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bbrandy2002 · 4 years

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Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

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On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear.

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there.

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself.

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games.

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...”

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work."

--------------

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church.

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family.

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee.

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road.

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat.

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it.

She was also deadly serious.

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

---------------------

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations.

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep.

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes.

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair.

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking.

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either."

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

-------------------

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs.

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides.

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill.

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?"

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?"

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk.

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?"

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone; the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!".

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that.

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away,"

He regretted it as soon as it came out.

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip.

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything?

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

---------------------------

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way.

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too.

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion.

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from.

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

---------------------------------

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#drake x alyssa #Liam x Riley #gun usage #hunting

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ourmondobongo · 3 years

Note

Do you think there's any particular meaning to Levi being born on Christmas day?

Hello!!

I absolutely do!! Like, Yams is not a guy to do things simply by "coincidence" imo...

In case of sheer coincidence, just read this as another one of my conspiracy theories LOL

Let's start by Levi's name before his birthday tho.

As mentioned in the AOT Guidebook, the name "Levi" has Hebrew roots...

...and Yams picked it after watching a documentary name Jesus Camp. I haven't watched it myself, but by the summary, it seems pretty strong what those kids lived in this religious camp (which makes me remember the general idea of Gabi and the other Marley kids being mind controlled by Marley government...).

The Levi's name meaning Yams mentioned here (contradiction) seems to be wrong, though, as far as pretty much 99.9% of articles says about the name origin. And quoting from here:

In an absolute sense, the name Levi means Joined or Coiler, but judging from the context that also produced his name, the meaning of Joined is preferred. For a meaning of the name Levi, NOBSE Study Bible Name List reads Joined. Jones' Dictionary of Old Testament Proper Names offers the eloquent Adhesion.

Idk from where Isym took that "Levi" was "contradiction". The most different meaning to Levi seems to be this:

There is some controversy about the etymology of the name Levi. BDB Theological Dictionary suggests that the name Levi was derived from the word Levite, instead of vice versa, and that the word Levite has to do with a Minaean word for priest. Another suggestion is that the name Levi (לוי) is derived from the name Leah (לאה) and means Weary, rather than something else.

But, again, Levi sticks to "join" mostly:

HAW Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament disagrees with this kind of 'strong disclaimers' and (as does NOBSE Study Bible Name List) derives the name Levi from the verb לוה (lawa) meaning join, be joined. This is the verb that Leah uses when she names Levi, "Now this time my husband will be joined to me, because I have borne to him three sons" (Genesis 29:34)

And while many AOT names have their origin in German, a few other characters seems to have Hebrew roots as well, as I explored a bit here.

Of course, some of them might be just sheer coincidence as I have no idea how much Yams is aware of the Bible/Hebrew/Jewish implications. But still, they are very interesting to make connection!!

Then... Do you think there's any particular meaning to Levi being born on Christmas day?

Well, I think it's almost universally know that Jesus was the Son of God sent to Earth to save humanity, willing to die for humanity for He loved us. He was born in the humblest place (barn/stable) and nearly automatically he persecuted by King Herod. He suffered so much, but always stood by the side of humanity, trying to teach us how to be better, how to love each other, and how to persevere through the worst times... So while Levi pretty much has his violence more connected to the one from who he got the name root (Dina's brother as I mentioned in the link above), we cannot NOT see the connections between Levi's deep dedication to save humanity, how most people saw him as their savior too, and how he was willing to give up his life in order to save as many people as possible/humanity, his caring and concern for people, his compassion and selflessness.

So, yeah, imo, Yams did not just simply by chance made Levi's birthday the same date of Jesus lol

As a sheer coincidence, though, chapter 62 - in which Hanji goes to a barn/stable that is the "meeting point" with Levi - was the last chapter of the tankobon SNK Vol 15, printed version released on December of 2014

ON THE OTHER HAND...

Jesus birthday is not accurately on December 25th- it's mostly said that this was a day Roman church (firstly) adopted and became a tradition to the Christian religions as well. The date set for the Christmas' celebrations is related to the Vikings and Nordic people, as celebration of the new solstice or the Birthday of the Sun. And we know HOW MUCH Yams love Nordic mythology! And as Santa Claus (who seems to have connection to Odin) is a very celebrated figure in December 25th, this brings me to a very CRAZY theory of mine haha

While Odin resembles Santa Claus, and Santa reminds me of sweet tooth and a tubby man, I can't help but wonder if Yams also wanted to do some gag moment with the "Moppel/Elgelhein" in the chapter 62.

Because while "Moppel" means something like a "short, fat person" (or "podge", "dumpling" or "tub of lard"), if you write "モッペル Germany" on Google the first references you gonna find is probably this:

(Moppel Santa Claus)

"Elgelhein" apparently has no meaning in German when looking it up on Internet. However, "Elgelhein" is written as エルゲルヒェン. So when I put it on Google Translator, DeepL, and Mazii Translators, all three of them provided me "Elgerchen" as one of the possible translations instead of Elgelhein.

And guess what? Elger has Old Norse + German + Anglo Saxon origins!!

Elger means "elf spear". And while "chen/hein/hyen" seems to works as a diminutive expression, Elgerchen could be translated as "little elf spear". I think that works really nice with Levi (*haha*). Also, elves worked for Odin... (okay, I'm stopping with Christmas things here lmao)

Another funny thing, tho, is that エルゲル (Elgel) in Japan is also read as Elugel, the best brand of dental gum disinfectant gel there it seems LOL So it would also make a funny gag if Levi was somewhat being compared to a very efficient dental disinfectant product since when putting "モッペル" on Google it also leads to food references (especially on images)!

(This merch is new, but I couldn't help but remember this haha It's NOT for the Elugel gum though!)

Lastly, the other joke is that "Ergelchen" also appears when putting the kanji on the translators. However, while it seems the word is considered a misspelling that should mean "little angel", the "Ergel" word has a Basque-German-Dutch root, and means "foolish", "imbecilic, idiotic" LOL

Could it be a gag over the silly exchange of "Santa/Elf" or "Tubby/Clean Freak" or "Tubby/Idiotic"?

Of course, I can't say this is how it should be read though as I'm no language specialist!! It all might possible be just silly coincidences or meaningless! A stretch even ngl LOL

But anyway, crazy theory aside, what I meant is that, imo, Levi's birthday as December 25th wasn't coincidence at all!!

Either it being a reference to Jesus (most probably) or a reference to the Nordic Gods and Myths that Yams loves, Levi's birth certainly is to represent a gift and a bless - and a savior - of humanity!

#answering devoted hearts #i'm REALLY INTO THEORIES haha #sorry not sorry if my mind seems wild LOL #Yams and his Schrödinger writing lol

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fanfictionloveletters · 4 years

Text

Eleusian Mysteries by Amuly (The Old Guard Nicky and Joe)

Title: Eleusian Mysteries

Author: Amuly / @everybodyilovedies

Fandom: The Old Guard

Word Count: 25735

Ship: Nicky and Joe

Summary: When Nicolo becomes immortal, he knows there must be a reason behind it. So he begins a search through time and space to find his answers. Yusuf tags along with him, because like it or not, their fates are clearly intwined. (and then, eventually, they fall in love, so that’s a good reason too).

Love Letter:

I've never read anything by Amuly , and I almost didn't read anything by them at all. I had just finished reading a really awful piece where dubious consent doesn't even cover it when I stumbled on to their writing. Ladies, gentlemen, people who identify as other....this author wrote the coming together of two people in the most subtle manner using mostly mathematics. I am not a math person, but when a truly romantic person only has mathematics to express themselves, the words that happen are so staggeringly creative.

Throughout the text, we are constantly told that Nicolo is horrible at picking up new languages while Yusuf kind of inhales Greek and exhales Hebrew, wash, rinse, repeat with any new language. This is vital because Nicolo is on a quest to find the answer to a very simple question: God, what is it exactly that you would like me to do with all this immortality you have given me? So while Nicolo is amazing at math and uses his skills in math repeatedly (almost like in Night Vale's Condos )to find their way in the world, he would not be able to take any steps forward in his personal quest without Yusuf. It's also clear that for Yusuf, the answer to the question is simple. What to do with all that immortality? Love this man, and do the good work of helping people who cannot help themselves as we go forth--for the greater glory of God.

It's beautiful--and infuriating--reading Nicolo not get that simple idea for decades. While walking through sandstorms rescuing children, drowning in sand, in water, carrying children through jungles, helping the defenseless and the poverty stricken--doesn't matter Yusuf can't draw it in crayon plainly enough for Nicolo. His obsession grows and almost becomes a sorrow--but Yusuf will not allow it to consume him. Additionally, Nicolo is, of course, to within everything they are doing to see the bigger picture. Clearly a repeat of the film's idea, but this feels like the genesis of Nicolo's ethos that informs the movie.

And while the romantic moments are soft and not the main focus, when Amuly decides to do it, THEY DO IT

“Nicolo di Genoa: I would follow you through the seven gates of Jahannam and back, beyond the greatest seas and beneath the deepest caverns. I would build a tower to the moon and trek over its quintessent mountains, build a ship with sails made for navigating the celestial ether and pluck the stars from their firmament, all if you commanded it.”

“Yusuf,” Nicolo sighed. He cupped his hand to Yusuf’s cheek, heart breaking with the love he saw written across every line of his face. Yusuf covered Nicolo’s hand with his own. “I would never command you.”

“My love for you commands me,” Yusuf proclaimed.

Or in another part of the work

“Do not say such things about yourself, my love, my soul, my heart. How could you ever think you burden me? That I am not here because I will it? Your body is my body, your soul is my soul. If your mind is burdened then my mind is burdened, and my feet walk with your feet until both our minds are put to ease.”

“But you have your answers,” Nicolo insisted, trying just one more time. “You said, decades ago: Allahu Akbar.”

“Allahu Akbar,” Yusuf agreed. He pressed a lingering kissing to Nicolo’s forehead before pulling back to meet his eyes again. “Nicolo: every day, you do the work of God’s greatness on Earth, because every day you do good. How could I ever want to be somewhere other than basking in the reflected glow of divine goodness made manifest?”

And there is more you guys. There is so much more to love in this set. So far, after looking at Amuly's Ao3 page, I can see that they usually only do a handful of stories for any fanbase. I burned through all of them for Nicky and Joe in a day, and couldn't be happier. Trust me, take the weekend, use your day off and read these. You will love them.

If you’ve enjoyed this fanfiction love letter, please feel free to reblog so that others might enjoy the talents of our fan communities. If you have read this fic and would like to share why you love it, please go to to their story to ensure they see your praise and appreciation. And of course, if this fanfiction love letter inspired you to read this fic, I’d love to know. Feel free to recommend any fic that you feel I might like or that needs a love letter.

#tog #the old guard #nicky #joe #nicky and joe #amuly #everybodyilovedies #medium work

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ashbelero · 4 years

Text

Obey Me!

~Theology Corner 2

✨Seven Princes✨

You guys seemed to really enjoy my last theology exploration into Obey Me! So I thought maybe I’d do a little more. Part 1 - https://otomeman.tumblr.com/post/618068151319543808/obey-me-theology-corner-so-we-already-know

First, why am I into theology/what qualifies me to talk about it? Not a lot. My dad’s a pastor but I don’t practice, and a lot of this comes from Catholic canon, which I’m also not associated with. But I find the whole thing fascinating and I’ve read a lot about it because quite frankly, this shit is an aesthetic. Anyway, let’s move on to deep dive #2.

We’re all very familiar with the seven brothers of the Devildom and the story that says they were angels who fell from heaven (except Satan who is made of rage and angst). Now, that IS true about Lucifer, the eldest... But I found myself wondering why the others were chosen for that role. Had Beelzebub ever been an angel in church canon? Why were these demons chosen for the seven seats out of hundreds of others? Was it just because they had cool names? And were they really associated with their respective capital sins?

Let’s start with the idea of the seven brothers first. Yes, there are seven demons considered to be the seven Princes of Hell. Specifically, the model that Obey Me! uses is from classifications of demons written in the 16th century.

Around this time period, theologists were very into the idea of creating a hierarchy of demons in hell, with most agreeing that Lucifer is definitely their leader. Originally, I thought they had gone slightly off of the text The Lanterne of Light, written in the early 15th century, which is among the first that names the princes of hell and their associated sins. The Lanterne’s princes are:

Lucifer (Pride)

Beelzebub (Envy)

Satan (Wrath)

Abaddon (Sloth)

Mammon (Greed)

Belphegor (Gluttony)

Asmodeus (Lust)

Seeing this, my first thought was that they’d taken this model and worked off of that. We can see some of them (Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, and Asmodeus) are in line with the game, but Beelzebub and Belphegor have different sins associated with them, and Abaddon is nowhere to be seen.

But after further digging, we find that there’s a later, although apparently less-used, text written in 1589 by Peter Binsfeld, a German bishop and witch hunter (badass, but he was actually kind of nuts). Binsfeld’s classification, known as The Princes of Hell, not only names the seven that we know but also the same sins they’re written with, in this order:

Lucifer (Pride)

Mammon (Greed)

Asmodeus (Lust)

Leviathan (Envy)

Beelzebub (Gluttony)

Satan (Wrath)

Belphegor (Sloth)

Okay, so this is clearly the source material they used - the only slight difference is the brothers’ birth order/seat order. Interestingly enough, this also seems to be the material used in Supernatural season 3 and on (which I haven’t seen). Could the developers have picked it up from there? It’s entirely possible.

Now what does Binsfeld’s classification say about the demons, and were any of them ever considered angels at some point?

First of all, the demons were not just representative of their respective sins, but also the primary source of temptation to those sins. Their entire job is to tempt humans and get their souls into hell. That doesn’t necessarily seem to be a concern to the Obey Me! crew, but then again... we are the ones coming back to play this game every day. Maybe they’re on to something after all.

Now we’ll go one by one through how the Princes of Hell are represented. This is a bit more difficult because not only are translations of Binsfeld’s work rare, but it’s hard to track down the original texts at all. Some of this is speculation, some is based on similar writings of the time.

- Lucifer -

Lucifer is the easiest to find info on, and the one who most canons seem to agree on. Some biblical texts use Lucifer as another word for Satan or the Devil, but considering Satan is a separate entity in Binsfeld’s text, we can assume that’s not the case here. I’m not gonna go into history or origins at the moment; that a story for another day. But the parallels between the game and mythos are pretty basic: Lucifer was the first angel to fall from heaven after attempting to restructure power, and is now the ruler of all demons in hell. This is close to our lore, with the only difference being that Lucifer actually serves Diavolo - but there can’t be any doubt who’s in charge among the brothers.

- Mammon -

Mammon is an interesting demon in that he wasn’t personified as an actual demon until much later in theological history; the word “mammon” simply means money or wealth. I’d love to go further into mentions of Mammon as a concept and sin in the bible, both old and new testament, but let’s stick to this for now. However, we can find stories that describe Mammon as a fallen angel - the reason for his fall being his obsession with the gold paving Heaven’s streets over his love of God. As a demon, he tempted humans to sin through promises of wealth. Our Mammon doesn’t seem to be very good at that.

- Asmodeus -

Asmodeus, or Asmodai in some translations, was almost always a demon of lust in Judeo-Christian theology, and featured prominently in the stories of Tobit and Solomon - Ooh, sound familiar? We’re not going into Solomon’s connection to the game today, but later. It’s not altogether clear how Asmodeus tempted humans to sin (aside from a lot of interrupting weddings by killing the groom), but later depictions show him as a beautiful young man with a limp... this limp being caused by the fact that one of his legs is a rooster’s. (Yeah. Can you imagine? I assume our Asmo got this fixed up somehow.) He’s only ever mentioned as being an angel once, however - by Pope Gregory in the 6th century. There’s no other implication that he was ever fallen. So that’s an interesting note.

- Leviathan -

The most interesting thing to me in Leviathan’s appearances is that the gigantic sea-dwelling demon is often considered not only the water parallel to the land-dwelling Behemoth, but also... female. But while this is in a number of depictions, there’s also hundreds of others. Leviathan was a figure in many religions, although these all seem to simply point towards the sea serpent rather than the demon or Prince of Hell. In catholic theology, he was said to pose a threat to all of God’s creation by devouring it, or swallowing it up in the waters of chaos. It wasn’t until the 13th century that Leviathan was given the role as a demon of envy by St. Thomas Aquinas; this was the version used by Binsfeld, placing Leviathan in charge of punishing the envious.

- Beelzebub -

Beelzebub is another one whose lore is pretty expansive, known by many names and titles. He was commonly associated with disease, though some biblical references to him as a Philistine god say that his title as Lord of the Flies was because he kept the flies away from the sacrifices laid out for him. He’s incredibly prominent in theology and tends to take on the roles of many other demons depending on the text, even being synonymous with Lucifer, Satan, and Mammon at times. Binsfeld’s classification is the first and one of few that assigns him to gluttony, where in others he represented envy or pride more commonly. The idea of him being a fallen angel seems to originate from the Testament of Solomon, but this also associates him with the morning star and appears to be another that interchanges him with Lucifer.

- Satan -

Fittingly, there is a massive amount of overlap between Satan and Lucifer in theological records. Both are described as a fallen angel that rebelled against God and subsequently was cast into hell to rule there in numerous different records. But there’s a lot more references to Satan in the bible than there are to Lucifer - possibly because satan was simply a Hebrew word meaning “accuser” or “adversary”, where ha-satan was more of a definite article to refer to the demon prince himself. In Christian translations, these were usually merged into one. Surprisingly, it’s hard to find any specific descriptions of Satan as a prince of hell; at the time of Binsfeld’s writings, he was mostly viewed as an object of witchcraft, a generalized devil, and often a subject of mockery in a good deal of entertainment media. Not hard to understand why he’d be associated with wrath in this case, as he was by many other classifications.

- Belphegor -

Belphegor’s lore is all over the place. He’s originally described as a demon who seduces people to him by suggesting ideas for inventions to get rich off of, though Binsfeld writes of him as one who tempts with laziness. His etymology is similar to Beelzebub’s, sometimes written as Beelphegor, roughly translated to “Lord of the Gap/Opening”, though it’s not abundantly clear exactly what this title means. It’s possibly because of this naming connection that he and Beel were written as twins. He’s also another one of the princes who was commonly depicted as a beautiful young woman when he appeared in the human world. Looking into beliefs around Belphegor outside of Christian theology turns up some... interesting details, but we’ll gloss over those for now. In a rare depiction of him as a prominent figure of hell, he was sent out to the human world by Lucifer to confirm whether or not it was possible for humans to live in married happiness; ultimately, Belphegor decided this was a groundless rumor. This could be something referenced in his hatred of humans in the game.

So that’s what we know about the brothers based off of one of the more obvious source materials for Obey Me! In future Theology Corners, we’ll explore the demons as depicted in the Testament of Solomon and what the King of Israel has to do with our highly suspicious bishie sorcerer.

#theology #obey me #obey me!#theology corner #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me otome #otome #demonology #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #fan theory

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ahh-fxck · 4 years

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Warrior’s Blues Chapter 9: Mockingbird

Hello, my lovelies! Here is the next chapter of Warrior’s Blues! In it we feature nervous Jaskier making comfort food while Yennefer finally lets him in on the big secret with her marriage to Geralt. Yennefer lives her best life making the poor bastard nervous again, and Geralt getting his feet a little more under him. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

A huge thank you to @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog who is the co-creator and beta of this fic. Your patience and hard work are SO appreciated you don’t even know <3 <3 <3

Ao3 link here

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list!! This fic updates roughly every two weeks.

@astouract @smolpoe @yes-im-the-violin-girl @ladyknight-keladry

“Are you telling me that you’re not here to kill me? I admit I was a little worried when you showed up without Geralt.” He flashes her a lopsided little grin, trying to ease the tension of the situation.

“Afraid not. I would happily murder you, but Geralt would get upset…” she sighs, then smirks. “Step out of line and you die, but keep me happy and play your cards right? Then as far as I’m concerned, you’re free to pursue him. If you want him.” She takes another sip of her coffee.

Jaskier blinks, caught so off guard that he finds himself actually panicking a little. Wife not killing him? This is not in the usual script. Possibly still being able to see the unbelievably hot husband? Mind broken. He pulls his coffee in close against his chest for the warmth, trying to restart his brain. In the background of his mind is a steady stream of whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck repeating in circles.

Yennefer laughs, watching his face journey through a number of stages of confusion. Eventually, she takes pity on him. “Breathe,” she quips. He sucks in a breath and looks at her, blue eyes wide and startled, and she gives him an amused grin. “So. Are you going to let me grill you, or should I just leave now?” she asks with a teasing twist of her lips.

Jaskier puffs, then sputters, “Grilling? Grilling’s fine.” Still looking like he’s been hit between the eyes, he turns away and sets his coffee cup down on the counter near the stove, then opens the fridge and begins nervously pulling fruit out and setting it on the counter. When strawberries and blueberries have been pulled out, he walks across the kitchen to hanging baskets and pulls down an apple and a banana. If he was going to be interrogated, he was damn well going to have some comfort food while it was happening.

Yennefer watches with amusement, sipping her coffee. “You crossed some lines by jumping into bed with Geralt so quickly, why don’t you start there?” she says sweetly, enjoying the way he winces.

Chapter 9: Mockingbird

The road outside the bar was quiet. She pulled her black blazer up around her shoulders, neatening her outfit in a storefront window. Then she eyed her reflection critically. When she was satisfied, she approached the door of the bar. From the outside, the place looked like a dive, but when she pushed inside she saw that it was actually a neat, well-appointed little space. The floor was wooden, and brass fixtures winked in the dimness. There was a subtle, pervasive odor of cumin lingering in the air, a memory of good cooking mixing with the more typical bar smells of spilled beer and cigarettes. Sitting in the far corner was a pale, broad-shouldered young man with ice blond hair shorn in a military cut. He was dressed in a plain tan shirt and khaki pants.

He raised his head when he heard the door. The place was almost deserted. Despite this, there was a cozy, well-lived feeling to the neat seating and lovingly polished tables. When he saw her, his face lit up. Yennefer had been running a little late, and his anxiety had been starting to get the best of him.

“Yennefer,” he rose to his feet to greet her as she crossed the room. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I’m the one who asked you for a drink, Geralt, why wouldn’t I come?” She gave him an irritated look. She slung her purse off of her shoulder and hung it on the chair, putting herself bodily between the young man and his attempt to pull the chair out for her. Her violet eyes flashed as she fixed him with a look that very clearly said, ‘don’t touch.’

His eyes widened, and he gingerly took one step back, then another, waiting until her expression softened before he stilled again. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, then gestured vaguely towards the bar. “What can I get you?” Despite her sharp temper and sharper tongue, or perhaps because of it, Geralt had become fascinated with her as they worked together. She was whip-smart, merciless, and graceful in equal measures, and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame even though she didn’t seem to like him very much. It had made his week when she’d grudgingly asked him out for a drink to get to know him better, but he hadn’t been certain she liked him enough to actually follow through.

She eyed him impatiently as she considered. She found herself wishing he would stop looking at her like a nervous puppy, and she stared at him in vaguely concealed irritation. If anything though, the stare made it worse. She came to a decision and pulled the chair out neatly, seating herself at the table. “Arak, please. On the rocks.”

“Chalav shel Ariot,” he said with a quick little smile. “Sure, I’ll be back.”

She cocked her head at him, eyeing him curiously as he turned to leave. Milk of Lions, another name for the liquor arak. It was a common enough term among the locals, but she didn’t think she’d heard anyone else on base use it.

As he returned a moment later, she sat back skeptically and took her glass from him. He sat down across from her with a beer and a shot glass full of clear undiluted arak. Her own was white, the sugars transformed by contact with the water from the ice. She drew her fingers along the cool sides of her glass, noticing that he didn’t seem to be making eye contact. Instead he watched her fingers trace beads of moisture.

“Is this what you do all day? When you’re not being a pain in my ass?” She asked, observing the softness of his face up close. He usually had a stern expression. It was easy to miss how handsome he actually was, with wide topaz eyes and a cupid’s bow lip. To her surprise, he smiled crookedly and looked up at the ceiling fixtures, taking in the brass on the lights and dark iron brackets.

“Yeah. This is where I spend a lot of my time. Coën likes it here too.”

“He mentioned,” she replied dryly. “More than once.” She took a slow sip of the arak, the sharp burn of the aniseed flavored liquor pleasant across her tongue.

“What brings you to this part of the world?” He asked quietly, now studying the table. His big hands were wrapped around his beer mug, but they gave the impression of nervousness stilled, like he would normally be in motion but was concealing it. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Yennefer had a keen eye for body language. Though she wouldn’t have readily admitted it, she’d been observing him closely for some time now. They had spent a lot of time together, both in and out of the field, and it had given her time to catalogue his tells. She crossed her legs and considered his question, examining her glass.

“I was assigned back here after college because I speak a couple of the local languages,” she said. “I grew up Ashdod, down the coast from here.”

He licked his lips, nodded, then assayed a reply in Hebrew. <<Where did you go to college?>>

She frowned, putting her glass down and leaning towards him. <<What did you just say?>>

<<You said you came back after college. Where did you attend school?>> he tried again, shooting her a hopeful look over the edge of his mug.

Surprised, she sat back. <<University of London. Why?>> She’d known from their field work that he knew at least a little of the local languages, enough to get by, but she had apparently underestimated how fluent he actually was.

<> He took a long swallow of his beer. <>

<> she said wryly. <>

He shook his head and flashed another crooked grin, chuckling. <<Sorry about that. I don’t think he likes me very much.>>

<<Yes, well, I don’t like you very much either,” She replied, without any real heat.

He tilted his glass at her ironically, then took a drink. <<Why the invitation, then?>> he inquired, lifting his gaze and catching her eyes with his own for the first time this whole conversation. A small shock ran through both of them, and she held his gaze for only a moment before looking off to the side, feeling oddly off balance.

<<Coën kept insisting that I should get to know you, since we’re stuck working together so often.>>

He smiled at the table top. <<Coën’s a good guy. I like him.>>

<<He is.>> She admitted, taking another swallow of arak. The burn was pleasant, smoother now that the ice had begun to melt into the alcohol. Rolling liquor on her tongue, she considered him with renewed intensity. <<How did you learn Hebrew?>>

Golden eyes came up and played briefly across her face, then dropped off to the side to study a nail in the floor. <<When I heard I was being assigned out here I picked up some books. And…>> he shrugged, taking a long swallow of his beer. <> With a jerk of his head, he indicated the bartender quietly puttering around behind the bar across the room from them.

She frowned, leaning towards him again. <<How much time did you have? That doesn’t seem right.>>

<<Uhm… A year? Less? Not long.>> He replied, shrugging. <> His lips quirk as he feels her gaze on him, feeling put on the spot.

Despite herself, she found the corners of her lips tugging with a smile. <<That’s insane,>> she said. <>

He shrugged, tossing back the last of his beer. <<Believe what you want.>> He chased it with the shot of arak, then shook his head to clear his burning sinuses.

She leaned back, taking her glass with her and cradling it close to her chest. <<Do you just speak, or do you read, too?>>

Licking his lips, he nodded. When he spoke again, she stared in astonishment.

<<Not the peace of a cease-fire,

not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb,

but rather

as in the heart when the excitement is over

and you can talk only about a great weariness.

I know that I know how to kill,

that makes me an adult.

And my son plays with a toy gun that knows

how to open and close its eyes and say Mama.

A peace

without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares,

without words, without

the thud of the heavy rubber stamp: let it be

light, floating, like lazy white foam.

A little rest for the wounds—

who speaks of healing?

(And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation

to the next, as in a relay race:

the baton never falls.)

Let it come

like wildflowers,

suddenly, because the field

must have it: wildpeace.>>

<<Where on earth did you learn that?>> She asked after a long, shocked silence.

He shrugged awkwardly.. <>

<<It’s my favorite from that whole book,>> she replied, taken aback. Not even her cameraman Coën, her closest friend, knew that. She tossed back the rest of her glass, taking the time to gather her suddenly scattered thoughts.

<<Why are you a soldier? With a mind like that, you’re wasted in the army.>>

The smile he gave the table, brief though it was, was like sunlight flashing across still water.

<<Thanks, I think?>> He toyed idly with his empty glass. <<I’m uh, in the army because my old man’s a Colonel and he raised me to follow his footsteps. Ran the base out in Powidz, Poland until they forced him to retire. I guess I always was headed here.>> Shrugging, he stood. <<Want another round?>>

<<Please,>> she said, offering her empty glass. He nodded and took it, returning a moment later with new glasses of beer and arak. Placing the milky glass of liquor in front of her, he sat back down.

<<Why are you a journalist? Especially writing about what you do… interviewing who you do? It’s fucking dangerous.>> He leaned back in his chair, holding his beer against his chest and eyeing her curiously. The tension in his body was starting to fade, and he looked both kinder and younger as a result.

She felt a curious warmth, looking at him. It was similar to the burn of the alcohol, but it tingled in her hands, in her chest. Taking a long swallow of liquor, she considered his question. They eyed each other curiously. <> She waved her hand as she took another sip, explaining, <<Which, granted, makes what I do for a living ironic.>> He nodded and chuckled, taking a swallow from his mug while he listened.

<<Um… I think I do it because I get to write everything down. Even if what I publish is… what it is, what I do to get paid, I know that somewhere there is a true and real account of what happened. What was said. Who was saying it and why. I know it’s written down somewhere, impossible to erase. And every now and then I get to really destroy someone awful, which makes some of the bullshit worth it.>>

<<Good answer,>> he said, eyebrows going up. <<Not sure what I was expecting, but I like that. You’re ferocious. I love watching you scare the shit out of people around here.>>

She laughed, genuinely and openly. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh like that, and he liked it. He never wanted her to stop.

The road is wide and quiet, shaded by drooping, dusty trees. They are big, old, their gnarled branches weaving together to create a dim canopy that covers the early morning road and sidewalks in flickering shadows. The houses lining the street are old Victorian and Craftsman style homes with white gables.

Yennefer drives slowly along it, violet eyes intent as she studies the neighborhood. The hum of the rental car’s engine is quiet as she rolls past house after house, scanning for the proper number. The first thing she spots even before that is Geralt’s battered old truck. It sits in the driveway of a simple blue house with a white wooden staircase spiraling up the outside. Next to it is a small white car with black songbirds printed on the trunk, done in pen-and-ink style art. They carry flowers, small splashes of color against the plain background. Yellow buttercups, blue cornflowers, red poppies, even blue forget-me-nots are carried in their beaks.

Flicking on the turn signal, she waits for a green van to slowly pass going the other way before she pulls up in the driveway behind Geralt’s truck. Pulling the parking brake, she leans back in her seat to rest and gather herself. It had been a long, emotional night and she was still jet lagging terribly. Still, she thought that getting out while Geralt was still asleep was probably for the best, so she had risen early to take care of things.

When she gets out of the car a wall of sticky, humid air hits her immediately. With a brief expression of displeasure she eyes the sky, then turns around and retrieves her purse from the car. She pauses to flick open her compact, checking over her appearance. Despite her exhaustion, she is impeccably appointed as always, black pinstripe suit pressed, white blouse spotless, makeup crisp even in the soggy heat. She tucks a hair back into place, snaps the compact closed, and locks up the car.

Striding up the driveway, she follows the concrete path around the side of the house to the front door. As she goes, she curiously studies the place that Geralt has been living. The walkway is plain, lined on either side with a leafy, ill-kept rock garden that has seen better days. Many of the rocks are painted, little friendly blobs of swirled color intermixing with odd little symbols and tiny hand-painted fairies from children’s movies randomly amongst the plain stones. The door itself is wooden, with a rectangular stained glass panel in the middle containing a simple diamond and square motif typical of the town during the era that the house was constructed. She rings the bell.

“Just a moment!” She hears a voice call from the depths of the house. The door opens a beat later, revealing Jaskier. He gives her an uncertain look, hesitates, then opens the door wide so that he can face her directly.

He is wearing long blue shorts that look like they belonged to a suit before someone shortened them and took to them with a bedazzler. There is a swirling pattern of rhinestones up each leg, with little hearts winking on each of his hips amidst the swirls. His big loose button down shirt is white, with splashes of blue watercolor style flowers all over it. Near the breast of the shirt on the left is a silk screened mockingbird in black and white, with a little curl of rhinestones coming from its beak like it is exhaling them in song. He looks tired, with shadows smudged under his eyes, and his hair is damp from the shower.

“Can I help you?” He queries, wary. It had been a long, shitty night full of self-recrimination for him that had left him feeling like the middle of him had been scooped out, leaving him empty and sore. He’d been expecting to see Yennefer today, but he didn’t think anything could prepare him for dealing with her again. He was a grown adult, though, and if he had to face the music, he would do it with as much dignity as he could muster.

She looks him up and down, considering him. Of all the types of men she’d expected Geralt to go in for, someone as colorful as this wasn’t even on the list. It’s oddly sweet that her quiet, withdrawn husband would be attracted to someone so different than himself. Too bad he picked an idiot. “I’m here to talk,” she announces, her eyes flashing. It is hard to resist intimidating him just a little more, especially since she isn’t entirely sure she likes him yet.

He presses his lips together, a flash of pain and worry going through his eyes before vanishing behind a carefully constructed neutral expression. “Of course,” he says, and steps back to gesture her inside with a broad motion of his arm towards the kitchen. “Please come in. I just made a pot of coffee, would you like some?”

“Please,” she replies, stepping past him into the house. The inside is gleaming, practically spotless, and smells like orange oil. Spotting the rack of neatly stacked shoes next to the door, she toes off her black pumps next to it. Then she strolls across the house to the kitchen island and seats herself confidently on one of the tall stools.

Jaskier follows her with rounded shoulders, giving her a respectfully wide berth and watching her every move. He serves them both a cup of coffee, then brings out the little buttercup dishes full of sugar and cream and sets them on the counter near her. She smiles but otherwise ignores them, taking a sip of the black coffee. It’s good coffee, complex and almost sweet at its finish. As she rolls the beverage on her tongue, she looks Jaskier up and down again.

He has come to rest with his back up against the fridge, one foot up on it, knee bent, sleepily sipping his coffee. His expression is still wary as he waits for her to begin talking, cautious of her temper after yesterday’s encounter. When the silence stretches out a little too long, he stirs. “Look, if this is about his stuff, I can take you upstairs to get it…”

She shakes her head, waving this statement away. “Not necessary. Not right now, anyway.” She smiles around her cup as he frowns, as if he’s not sure he heard her correctly.

“What?”

“I said that won’t be necessary yet. Hence,” she says, cocking her head and locking eyes with him, “why we need to talk.”

Jaskier gives her a long look of puzzlement. Pushing off of the fridge, he pours some sugar and a generous splash of cream into his coffee. “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost,” he admits, a worried note entering his voice. She didn’t want the boxes, so what did she want? Was he in trouble or not?

Yennefer smiles again, leaning back with her cup of coffee held close. “Did Geralt talk about me at all while he was here?” Jaskier cautiously shakes his head no, taking a sip of his coffee. He goes to say something but she gently cuts him off. “Fine. Geralt should tell you most of this, but nothing is going to make sense unless I throw you a bone first,” she smirks.

Jaskier nods, mystified but listening. Normally, this was the part where the spouse started demanding blood, not throwing proverbial bones. Drawing his mug in close against his chest, he leans against the counter.

“I’m asexual.” Yennefer explains bluntly. “He and I don’t have a sexual relationship. We married for our daughter’s sake, but we’ve never been,” she gropes for the right phrase, “physically in love. We’re as close as two people can be…” She pauses and takes a sip of coffee, giving Jaskier a direct look over the edge of her mug. “But our relationship is unusual.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up, but he has the good sense for once to remain quiet, allowing her to continue. Daughter? With a wife Geralt didn’t have sex with? This conversation had taken a hard left turn, and he felt like he was mentally scrambling to catch up. He had so many questions. Instead of letting his nervous tongue get away from him though, he takes a long swallow of his drink.

Yennefer lowers her mug, enjoying Jaskier’s obvious puzzlement. The pleasure she feels is bittersweet, though. Sex or no, Geralt had been hers for a long time. Her heart ached a little to think that she might have to share him with the tall, elfin man in front of her. Deep down though, she had always hoped he might find someone. She draws her fingers along the side of the mug, hesitating, but finally she says, “I always hoped he was going to find someone special… eventually.” Eyeing Jaskier, she flashes him a sly look. “Maybe someone like you.”

The way Yennefer looks at Jaskier makes his stomach flip. What the hell is she saying? He thought she was here to terrorize him again and collect Geralt’s stuff. Now it is starting to sound like she is implying he still has a chance with Geralt. He feels caught somewhere between a sudden weird hope and the gnawing guilt of knowing he’s crossed lines he can’t uncross with this woman, mysterious marriage arrangement or no. He pushes off of the counter and leans forward to spoon more sugar into his coffee, trying to stir his nerves away. “I don’t think I understand,” he grimaces, shaking off the spoon and setting it aside on a little saucer.

“No, I would be surprised if you did,” she chuckles and takes a sip of her coffee. “The reason I’m here is because it seems like he’s become very attached to you.”

Jaskier gives a bashful, confused smile. “I… I like him too,” he admits softly. “Quite a bit.”

Yennefer gives him a measuring look, but a smile is slowly creeping up her lovely features. “I should hope so.” Leaning forward onto her elbows, she fixes him with a serious gaze. “When Geralt and I got married, I knew he was going to meet someone someday, and I didn’t want him to feel guilty about it. So we discussed it, and we decided a few things.” She holds up fingers, ticking them off as she goes. “One, that he is free to choose his own lovers. Two, that said lover doesn’t get to meet his family unless he’s serious about them. And three, I get to have a long talk with anyone he does want to bring home.”

She pauses again, giving Jaskier another measuring look. “While our current apartment being in England makes bringing you home rather difficult, we can still have that long talk. I want to know more about you. If anyone is going to be seeing my husband, I have a right to know who they are.” She pauses, obviously unimpressed as she looks him from head to toe “Especially if they’re foolish enough to jump in bed with someone without asking questions first.”

Jaskier gapes, at a loss for words. He fiddles the coffee cup nervously, mind reeling. The jab stings, but he knows he deserves it, so he leaves it. Taking a swallow of his sweet creamy coffee grounds him, the sweetness biting through some of his confusion. “Are you telling me that you’re not here to kill me? I admit I was a little worried when you showed up without Geralt.” He flashes her a lopsided little grin, trying to ease the tension of the situation.

Jaskier putters nervously with the fruit, setting up a cutting board and knife, then he bends over and pulls a stand mixer out of a cabinet, setting it up on the counter. The movement gives him time to catch up to the conversation. As he fiddles the paddle off of the mixer and goes to hunt for the attachment he is looking for, he says, “I’ve been thinking about that a great deal myself. And you’re absolutely correct,” he tosses his hair out of his eyes and glances across the room, apologetic. “I handled things with Geralt inappropriately. I’m sorry.” His lips thin out as he presses them together, looking tired and angry with himself. “I let my feelings get ahead of me sometimes. It’s not my best trait.”

“Clearly not,” she replies wryly, slightly mollified by his apology but still unimpressed. “So why did you do it?”

"I…" he returns to the stand mixer, fitting a whisk attachment onto the end of it. Then he takes the bowl out and wipes it down with a damp cloth in the sink, nervously scrubbing away miniscule specks of dust. “That’s complicated. If I answer you honestly right out the gate, I’m worried I’m going to sound crazy to you, which is the last thing I want right now.” His lips quirk in a brief, bitter smile. “I’ve already done quite enough damage, thank you. So...” he pauses and heaves a sigh, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m going to tell you a little about myself first. Maybe help you understand?” Bright blue eyes meet hers for a moment, giving her an uncertain look. She meets gaze unflinchingly until he drops it to study the bowl in his hands. He shakes his head and returns it to the mixer stand, then goes over to the fridge.

“Fine,” she replies, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “What do you want me to know?”

“Well…” he bends over and sticks his head into the refrigerator, chewing his lip. “I’ve been a part of the queer community since I was a teenager. And,” he grimaces, hunting for something, “I was twenty years old when HIV was first identified. There was an outbreak at Fire Island, are you familiar?” Finding the carton of heavy cream hidden at the back of the fridge, he snags it with a satisfied noise and straightens.

“Geralt told me you were there. About your friends.” Yennefer replies quietly. “I’m sorry.” And she genuinely is, no matter how else she might feel about Jaskier. Being at the center of something like that leaves marks on people. She’d been all over the world in her job and seen many types of trauma, and the HIV epidemic had scared her to the bone wherever she encountered it.

“Right. Well then, I don’t need to tell you the rest. Good.” Returning to the stand mixer, he dumps in cream and flicks the mixer on at a relatively slow speed. “What’s important about it, that I want you to understand, is that, in my experience queers are already not terribly good at staying in one another’s lives after the…” he waves his hand searchingly. “The romantic spark has passed. And the few people that I thought could be constants, slipped through my fingers without recourse.” Turning, he riffles through one of the nearby cabinets and retrieves vanilla, confectioner’s sugar, and bourbon. “So when I say that I don’t expect people to stay around long, I want you to understand what I mean.”

She frowns, understanding dawning. “You didn’t expect him to stay.”

“No, darling. I’m afraid not. When I met Geralt… Ah. I didn’t expect much to come of it. While I’m not running a fuck-and-release program,” he cuts her a sharp look over his shoulder, “I must say I wasn’t expecting him to be around long. Which is why I didn’t ask nearly as many questions as I should have. I wanted to leave him what little peace he had… I… I felt like prying would have made things worse.” He trails off into a brief silence, measuring vanilla and bourbon and dumping them into the mixer.

When he looks at her again, his expression is deeply worried. “He looked like he was in a lot of pain.”

She grimaces at the pointed comment, hiding it with a sip from her coffee mug. Irritated that she’d let him get to her, she schools her face into a carefully neutral expression until he finishes speaking. She remembers Geralt’s distress the night before, and a flash of worry and sadness crosses her face. Pain was the understatement of the century. She’s still not sure she would even be here, but for that. Geralt was in danger, and she would do just about anything to make it better.

Taking a deep breath, he measures sugar and then starts carefully sifting it into the moving mixer with a small sieve. “I thought… why make it worse for him when he’ll have moved on shortly anyway? I thought... “ he shrugs uncomfortably, setting aside the sieve and turning up the speed on the stand mixer by increments. “I thought, he’ll stay for a few weeks, get his first few paychecks, find his own place, and be gone. And not long after that, he’ll probably find a new job, and that will be that. Good deed done.”

“That’s… questionable, but fine. I’ll leave that alone for now. It still doesn’t explain why you started fucking him within twenty four hours of meeting him,” she points out, unimpressed.

“No, you’re right.” He replies, shaking his head and pulling a face. “And this… is where I sound a little crazy, and I hope you’ll forgive me.” Once the mixer is at the proper speed, he turns to another cabinet and pulls out a big bowl, which he sets near the cutting board. “Um.”

His stomach does a double flip as he tries to summon the words, feeling her violet gaze boring into his back. He begins to speak, stutters into silence, and then tries again. “I have… spent a long time ah, vigorously jousting in the lists of love, so to speak,” he observes wryly, starting to top and halve the strawberries, tossing each one into the bowl as he finishes. “Mm. And I’ve known many different kinds of love, as a result. Some, admittedly, deeper than others,” he gives a rueful chuckle. Behind him, Yennefer smirks.

“But with Geralt…” Jaskier pauses, feeling his throat close up a little bit with sheer nerves. Taking the cutting board to the trash, he sweeps the strawberry heads into the bin and then returns to the counter to start processing the banana, peeling it and chopping it.

“My life has always felt like a hurricane. Like there is a hurricane blowing around me and I’m just trying not to get swept away with all of the rest of the debris. But- I’m sorry, I know this is insane, oh, I sound like a crazy person. But when I’m around him, it feels like…” he heaves a shaky sigh. “It feels like the center of the hurricane found me. When he’s nearby I feel like the whole world goes silent and still. All the other madness is still whirling around the outside edges, but where he is, there’s this intense quiet… Silence so loud it makes my whole body just ring with it, no matter what he’s doing. It’s the most beautiful feeling. And I’ve never felt that around another human being before. Not a single solitary one. And… it was terribly impulsive of me, and selfish, and I shouldn’t have done it… but I wanted to wrap myself up in that feeling for as long as I could before he vanished, too.”

He trails off, dumping the chopped banana into the bowl. Then he glances at the stand mixer. The cream is starting to stiffen, but hasn’t reached a proper consistency yet. He turns back to the cutting board, starting to process the apple now. “I know that’s… insanely inappropriate to tell someone about their husband. Ah. And I know I’ve only known him two weeks. I don’t… I’m not saying I’m in love with him. That’s the kind of thing you only find out with trust, and time, and we haven’t had that. That’s not what I’m trying to say. I’m just trying to say that he’s different. And I like him. And I would be very fortunate to have the chance to know him more.”

He dumps the apple into the bowl, then turns and looks at her. “I hope that answers your question.” His face is tired, and he looks like he doesn’t particularly expect her to be receptive to any of this. He knows he shouldn’t have kissed Geralt when he did, no matter how attracted he was to him. Normally, he would have even had the restraint to wait until things were more above board. But something about the situation had triggered him deeply, and between that and the incredible depth of feeling he experienced around his handsome lover, he had lost his head.

Yennefer takes all of this in thoughtfully, her face softening. She’d been expecting Jaskier to tell her he’d done it because he was a horny idiot, and while that is partially what he’d said, the rest gave her pause. She didn’t hear people speak like that about anyone very often, much less her taciturn and often unfriendly Geralt.

“Thank you for your honesty,” she settles on, then takes a swallow from her cooling coffee. “I’m really not impressed by your boundaries, but…” she sighs, relenting slightly. “It’s nice to see that you like him so much.”

Jaskier blushes awkwardly at the backhanded compliment, busying himself by stopping the mixer to check the flavor and consistency of the whipped cream. He finds himself feeling thrown for the umpteenth time since he’d met her the day before. “I’m really very sorry I wasn’t more… uh, circumspect,” Jaskier stutters awkwardly. “I’m kind of impulsive sometimes, it’s a problem. I’m sorry.” He sprinkles a little more sugar and another dash of vanilla into the cream, then starts it going again at an even higher speed.

“Good. You should be.” Yennefer says sharply. He winces and nods. She leans forward, putting her elbows on the counter and twirling her cup in her hand. Her face softens into a look of curiosity. “Let’s talk about your family. Where were you raised? Who raised you?”

Jaskier tosses some blueberries into the bowl, then returns them and the remaining strawberries to the refrigerator, pulling out lemon juice in their stead. Then he fishes out a bottle of honey from a cabinet and sprinkles it and some lemon juice into the bowl of mixed fruit. He gently tosses it to coat them. Pursing his lips, he ponders where to start. He’s not sure that he wants to share this much with the intimidating stranger sitting at his kitchen island, but on the other hand, he was already in over his head. Chewing his lip, he decides to plunge forth.

“I was born here, in Rhode Island, at the local hospital. I was almost born on a ferry, point of fact.” He smiles, shaking his head and flicking off the stand mixer. “The Pankratz family home is on Martha’s Vineyard, out off the coast. My father thought he could finish one last thing before getting in the car to leave, and my mother has never let him forget it.” Chuckling ruefully, he lowers the mixer’s bowl and retrieves the whisk attachment, shaking it as clean as he can.

Yennefer snorts softly, thinking that if Geralt had done that to her, he’d probably have suffered permanent injuries. Her pregnancy had been bad, but Geralt had been painfully attentive to her needs. Getting to the hospital hadn’t been the problem; keeping him from jumping onto the ceiling at every minor mishap had been the real issue. “Sounds like a poor choice on his part,” she smiles.

Jaskier casts a brief smile at her. “It was. Even when I was in my teens, it was still favorite material during fights.” He grins lopsidedly as Yennefer laughs.

“I can only imagine. I would have murdered Geralt if he’d done that to me,” Yennefer admits.

“He doesn’t seem like the type,” Jaskier observes as he rinses the whisk in the sink.

“He wouldn’t have survived my pregnancy if he was,” Yennefer smirks. “He’s a good father.”

“Now that, I believe.” Jaskier replies with a soft smile. “How old is your daughter?”

“She just turned twelve at the end of spring,” Yennefer reveals, clearly proud. She takes another sip of her coffee, then sets her mug down. “That’s neither here nor there, though. Were you raised on Martha’s Vineyard, or…?”

Jaskier nods, placing the dripping whisk on a towel. “Yeah. I was raised on the Vineyard for the most part. Summers in New York, sometimes winter holidays with our grandparents in Warsaw. Well, at least before they passed away. Attended a private school on the island all the way through high school.” He takes the mixing bowl off of its base, setting it near the fruit absently.

“My parents are… highly motivated people. They own and operate Pankratz Enterprises. It’s the family company, and it’s been passed down for… ugh, generations. I don’t know. My father’s parents passed on before I was born, so he and my mother have been more or less in charge as long as I’ve lived. It very much consumes their time.” He tastes the whipped cream one last time, nods, then tries a piece of fruit. Shaking his head, he drizzles a touch more honey into the bowl and gives it another few stirs.

“I am… the baby of the family. No surprise there,” he gives a breathy little chuckle, shaking his head. “Um. Older brother, fifteen years older than me. He’s the actual heir of the whole… family business monstrosity. Good riddance, he can have it. And a sister, ten years older. She’s uh… I think she’s in London now, working for Sotheby’s last time I checked.”

Yennefer’s eyebrows go up. “That takes quite a few connections to achieve, last I heard.”

“Well…” Jaskier shrugs. “That’s my family.” He tastes the fruit again and this time he nods, setting down the bowl. “Anyhow, I came along rather late to the party. I’m ah… Rather the embarrassment of the family. My mother and father hadn’t been in each other’s beds in years by the time I was conceived.” He pauses in the middle of getting two little ceramic bowls down, smirking at Yennefer over his shoulder. “At a swinger’s party. There’s still rather some debate as to whether my father is actually my father.” He gestures at his face. “No one in his family has blue eyes, you see.” A mischievous grin makes his eyes twinkle, and Yennefer finds herself chuckling, shaking her head. He’s charming enough, she’ll give him that.

“So, what. He just raised you anyway?” she asks wryly, draining the last of her coffee. For the embarrassment of the family, he seemed oddly pleased by his story.

Jaskier smirks and shrugs. His family had never failed to remind him that he didn’t quite belong, so he felt few qualms about airing their dirty laundry. It was petty, but the story usually made people smile, and knowing that somewhere his parents’ ears would be burning gave him a feeling of satisfaction. “Well, admitting I wasn’t his would have been a far worse scandal, so they never actually bothered to find out who my father was. It didn’t change much… even if I were his, I don’t think either of them would have raised me with any more care than they already did.”

“That doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement,” Yennefer observes, watching as Jaskier sets the bowls on the counter. Using the big spoon, he measures honeyed fruit into each bowl.

“It wasn’t meant to be, darling. I was mostly raised by a nanny and our cook, if I’m going to be perfectly honest. Anything that took my mother away from work and organizing social events seemed to make her terribly nervous, and my father was worse. I don’t think he knew what the word ‘vacation’ meant.” He puts the big spoon down and grabs the freshly made whipped cream. “Even when he’d actually bother to accompany us someplace, there was always a briefcase with him.” With a shrug, he measures a dollop of whipped cream onto each bowl.

“Do you want nutmeg?” He asks, giving her a curious, hopeful look. Yennefer eyes the bowls on the counter with interest. They look tempting. Pursing her lips, she nods. “Sure.” Geralt hadn’t mentioned he was quite the little cook, but if this little display was anything to go by, he’d been fed quite well while he was in Jaskier’s home. Good. At least there was something the idiot had been doing right.

He smiles and turns back to his spice cabinet, pulling down a grinder with part of a whole nutmeg still in it. He grinds it briefly over both bowls, then sticks a spoon in each of them. Turning, he offers it to her with a flourish.

She gives him a skeptical look but takes it, setting it on the island in front of her. The flourishes are lost on her, but the food looks good. Privately, she marvels again that this is the kind of man that had her husband so frazzled. There’s no accounting for taste, she supposes.

“Can I offer you more coffee?” He asks, holding up the carafe. She nods, holding out her cup, and he fills it. Then he picks up his own bowl and spoons the fruit around, covering it in whipped cream. “Where was I?” Taking a nervous bite, he looks at her again.

“You mentioned you were raised by the staff,” she replies with a twist of her lips, as if she finds the word ‘staff’ a bit distasteful.

“Ah. Yes, I rather was.” He nods, giving her an apologetic look. He wasn’t overly fond of having staff in his childhood home either. It had never felt right. “My father preferred to pay to make problems go away, and cooking and childcare were problems for him.” Jabbing a banana with his spoon, he gives it a little moue.

“When I said nanny, I really mean there were a series of people who got me to school, got me home… hmm, made sure my homework was done. I wasn’t particularly close with any of them. The cook was special, though. Klaudia. She was Polish, we met her through my grandparents… I spent quite a lot of time underfoot in the kitchen, but she never seemed to mind. She’s the one who gave me my name,” he says with a fleeting smile. “Jaskier. I used to bring her flowers from the garden, and sometimes she would put them in salads. Buttercups are poisonous, of course, but I was about five when she told me about the little game of sticking a buttercup under your chin after you speak the name of someone you have a crush on… That your chin will shine yellow if you’ve spoken the name of your true love. Terribly silly, but I adored it when I was small. I became so attached to them that she started calling me Jaskier, and I loved that, too. So I kept it.” Shrugging, he takes another bite of cream covered fruit.

Yennefer smiles, taking a bite of her own fruit. The bourbon in the whipped cream is barely there, but it’s enough to make the strawberry she just bit into sing. Delicious. Apparently Klaudia had been a good teacher. Whatever else he had going on, she could admit that she was impressed by the food.

“After I graduated high school I went to New York for college. I… that was a chaotic time in my life. I’d just left private high school and had an enormous amount of freedom all at once, and I spun out for a little while. Spent a lot of time clubbing and fucking, not nearly as much time studying as I should have.” Jaskier blushes and sets his bowl aside, grabbing his coffee cup and taking a quick swallow to conceal his embarrassment. He’s usually quite unabashed about his love life, but something about this whole conversation is making him feel awkward.

“Studying?” Yennefer inquires. The idea that this man might have fucked his way through New York doesn’t entirely surprise her, but she’s curious what someone like him might have studied. “College?”

“Yes! I was lucky enough to matriculate into Juilliard as a young man. I,” he proclaims, his eyes twinkling, “have a degree as a Master of Music in historical performance. Despite a rather rocky start, I did quite well for myself by the end of my courses. I’m an adjunct professor now at the college up the street! I teach medieval music theory.” Lifting his head, he gestures to the opposite wall in the living room, indicating the different types of lute hung on the wall. “My favorite instrument is the lute.”

“Do you compose?” She asks, allowing herself to be slightly impressed. It took a fairly talented musician to even get into a college like that, much less walk away with a degree. Perhaps he was more intelligent than she had been giving him credit for. She turns to look at the beautiful instruments gleaming softly where they hang.

“Well… Yes and no,” he says, suddenly uncomfortable. “Mostly right now I recreate ancient pieces. Put them back together and record them, style of thing. Maybe add a little of my own flair, when I’m just playing at home.” He hesitates, temporarily at a loss for words. Yennefer turns back and looks him up and down, curious about why he suddenly seems uncomfortable.

Fingering his shirt, he gestures to the mockingbird. “The woman who made me this shirt also did the birds on my car,” he reveals quietly. “We dated for a while, after I got out of college. She ah… this is one she gave me right before we broke up. She said, it was fitting for a man who hides behind the music of other people.” Shrugging uncomfortably, he says, “I do compose, but I don’t feel I’ve ever quite gotten my legs under me with it. Maybe someday.”

Yennefer frowns, then slowly nods. “You must be very angry with yourself to be wearing something like that today,” she observes.

Jaskier looks up at her over his coffee mug and nods, a little surprised at how perceptive she is. “I am. I slept with your husband without thinking it through, and I feel… Embarrassed. Guilty.” He looks down at his coffee mug, swirling the remains at the bottom of the cup. “He has his own song. I don’t necessarily get to be part of it, and I understand that.” He shrugs, downing the last mouthful of his own coffee.

Yennefer nods, finding herself reassured as he makes that admission. Good. He didn’t have a right to be any part of Geralt’s life, and she was glad he was aware. Any future access Jaskier might be granted to Geralt would be a privilege, and one he damn well better cherish. It was best he was aware of that now, and thankfully he seemed to be. She purses her lips, studying the shirt again. The little rhinestones wink in the light. It’s far too gaudy for her tastes, but it’s clean, well made, and on Jaskier it has a certain charm. Her eyes run over the delicate ink like feathering of the screen printed mockingbird. As she watches it glitter, another question occurs to her.

“You date women?” She asks, gesturing to the bird.

Jaskier chuckles ruefully, picking his bowl of fruit back up. “Yes, darling. I’m pansexual. When I said I’d had my share of lovers, I really did mean I’ve run the gamut.”

Yennefer shakes her head and spoons up half of a strawberry, bemused. “I would not have guessed that. You’re very…”

“Campy? Flamboyant? Yes.” He tosses his hair out of his eyes and gives her a winning smile. “Always have been.”

Yennefer eyes him curiously. His comfort with himself was unusual, a confidence she rarely saw in queer men. Privately she wonders how he managed to stay so at ease, but files away the question for later. If all went well, there would be time for questions like that another time.

“So. You pulled your shit together, got through school… then what?”

“Well, then I spent a year or so running myself ragged around New York and the surrounding areas trying to care for my loved ones as the AIDS epidemic worsened. I’d already been doing it during school, but once I got out, it ate up all my free time. And the ah… hospital up the road from here ended up being friendly. So over time, I ended up spending more and more time in this city, ferrying my loved ones to appointments. And eventually I started getting sick and tired myself-” He flips up his hand gently, waving away the unintentional implication. “From stress, I mean. And so I bought this house. It was good… A little spot of bright in all the shit, you know? Something stable.” He spoons up another portion of fruit, shaking his head. “So, that was my life for a while. Um. It’s also sort of what led to the bar.”

“How so?” Yennefer asks, interest piqued. She takes another bite of fruit as she listens. This was definitely a story she wanted to hear.

“Well…” He licks his lips and ponders. “A lot of my HIV+ friends ended up experiencing a lot of stigma. People were scared… No one understood yet what was happening. And I started getting more and more people showing up at my house every night.” Laughing, he gestures around. “It’s quiet now, but it used to have a lot more furniture. Wall to wall queers some nights, darling. We’d host art parties and try to keep up the spirits of the sick men I had living with me… It was fun.”

Yennefer half-smiles, looking around the room behind her, trying to imagine the quiet, elegant space full of rowdy queer people doing art. “Sounds like an adventure,” she muses with a quiet chuckle. “So what then?”

“Then, one of my friends who I was hosting wanted to go to a bar. One last time, sort of thing… And we discovered that the few bars around here didn’t have much in the way of wheelchair access or safety accommodations for someone who was immunocompromised. We worked for months trying to get someplace to do the right thing, and he kept getting worse…” A dark look comes over Jaskier’s face. “At a certain point it became urgent. So,” he shrugs uneasily, “I paid for it myself.” He sets aside his empty bowl and turns around, turning on the kettle.

“I prefer very much to make my own money and leave my family alone, but some things are worth it. In this case my friend who we were doing all of this for- James- uncovered a secret need in the local scene. There were a lot of queers who wanted a clean space with wheelchair access.” Digging in the cabinet, he pulls out a sachet of loose chamomile flowers, a strainer, and a small teapot.

“I imagine there were,” Yennefer replies softly, her heart constricting. She looks around the room again, seeing it in a different light now.

“So… Once I’d gotten everything fitted and set up, I had everyone come in and put up a bunch of the art we’d done while we were at the house. Most of it’s still up in the bar,” he says with a fond smile. “And now, I don’t have nearly as much traffic through here. There’s a safe place for my queers to be, I can still check up on my regulars, and I get some peace and quiet at home.”

Yennefer nods, then looks down at her bowl to cut apart a strawberry. Then she looks up and fixes Jaskier with an inquisitive look. “You said queers… Is your bar not just for men?”

“Heavens no,” Jaskier flaps his hand dismissively. “That’s primarily who shows up, but I have different theme nights for different parts of the community every month. Dyke nights, Trans nights, Ace nights… Leather night,” he chuckles, “is usually a blast.”

Yennefer’s eyebrows go up, not sure how to even start with this. A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth, as she imagines Geralt in the middle of a leather night at a gay bar. He’d probably be mortified at first, but she has a feeling he would enjoy it more than he’d outwardly let on. She breaks out slowly into a smile, which she hides in her coffee cup.

“When you said that you check up on your regulars… what did you mean by that?” she queries, studying him carefully. How he answers this question will tell her quite a bit about who he is as a person. Her listening look, already focused, becomes even more intent.

Jaskier turns to face her, finished fiddling with his tea until the water has boiled. “I mostly have a feel for who is friends with who around here…” he explains. “At least among the people who come to my bar. The city isn’t that large. When someone doesn’t show up, or doesn’t seem to be doing well, I know who to send to check on them.” Blue eyes meet hers seriously, his gaze steady for what feels like the first time since she’s met him. “I don’t like watching people drop on my watch anymore. I’d rather die than let another queer rot or fall into homelessness because there wasn’t a family there to catch them.”

Yennefer tips her head to the side. While she’s still angry about the potential heartbreak he might have caused Geralt by having shitty boundaries, she’s beginning to understand what drives him to do things like take strangers home. The kind of pain he had experienced did odd things to people, and they each coped in different ways. In his case, it seemed to have come out as a ferocious kindness.

“Do you find them if they don’t have friends?” She queries, eyeing him speculatively.

“That… “ he pauses, picking his words carefully, aware of the intensity of her scrutiny. “Depends. I don’t hunt down every stranger who passes through, but if it’s someone who’s been coming long enough to form a personal relationship with me? Maybe, sometimes. We had an older patron, Deirdre. Wonderful old queen from the days before being trans was really a thing. She came every Tuesday night for… oh, six years? Seven? She’d sit by the front door near me out on the sidewalk and smoke cigarette after cigarette, and we’d talk for hours. When she stopped coming, I went to check on her. Found her passed away in her armchair, poor dear, and the neighbors hadn’t bothered to call anyone. Mail was spilling out of her mailbox.” His lip curls with frustration and sorrow.

“But, that kind of situation is thankfully rare. I can think of only a handful of times when I’ve felt the need to go to someone’s home. I mostly work through the grapevine,” he explains with a wistful smile. “I may be impulsive, but I do have boundaries, believe it or not. I am… very sorry I gave you such a bad impression.” Holding his hand up to forestall her speaking, he says, “Admittedly a well-deserved one. I’m not twenty anymore, I’m old enough to know better. My therapist is going to have a field day.”

Yennefer smirks, and this time a twinkle reaches her eyes. He may be an idiot, but she is gratified to see that he has at least a glimmer of self-awareness. There’s a therapist, too. Good. He has someone to hold him accountable. It makes her feel better about the prospect of giving the hotel phone number to him. “And how old are you, that you ought to know better?”

“Thirty-four. Had a birthday about a month and a half ago, May 22nd.” He smiles and gives a little flourish. “I’m a Gemini.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes. Of course he would be into astrology. She was going to have to have a talk with Geralt about his taste in men, again. She finishes her fruit and pushes her bowl aside, feeling satisfied. “Well. I can see that you’re not as thoughtless as I was worried you were, at least.”

Jaskier puffs and shakes his head, not sure how to respond to that. He settles on a cautious, “Thank you?”

Yennefer snorts softly. “That being said, there’s some things I want you to understand about Geralt before we move forward. The most important is that he’s never let himself date or fall in love. He’s spent his whole adult life in the military, and he’s never given himself the chance. Were you aware?”

Jaskier looks at her, a sad look crossing his face. “He told me he’d spent his life in the service but I hadn’t quite put it together-” He breaks off and starts again. “I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“You’re right, you should have,” she reproofs sharply, but then her voice softens. “But in this case, I don’t think he would have told you even if you had asked. So I’ll give you a pass,” she quirks a little smile at him. “This time.”

Jaskier smiles awkwardly, relieved, then turns around and turns off the kettle as it whistles. “Can I get you anything?”

“No thank you,” Yennefer says. Then she shifts and catches Jaskier’s eye. “When I say he’s never had a boyfriend, Jaskier, I mean it. If you don’t step carefully with him, I will personally end you. He’s likely to get very attached to you if you let him.” She leans forward, her face very serious. “If you cheat on him, it will crush him. I want you to think very carefully about whether or not you can handle a commitment like that. You and I both know he is in a world of pain right now. Aside from my daughter there is no one more precious in the world to me, and I want him to be safe. Please don’t make things worse by being irresponsible with his very fragile heart.”

Jaskier takes this in quietly, regarding Yennefer with a serious expression of his own. He chews his lip, then nods. Turning slowly aside, he fills the little teapot with hot water, pouring it through the strainer full of flowers. The weight of her words presses on him, making him feel small and inadequate in the face of them.

“Do you want me to date him?” He asks finally, after a long moment of staring at the dried flowers floating to the top and unfolding in the strainer, not entirely sure he wants the answer. The last day had been a wild ride, and he was starting to get heartsore trying to deal with all of it.

Yennefer pauses, frowning a little and leaning her chin on her hand. “Do I personally want you to date him? Doesn’t matter, since you seem to be an idiot, not a predator. What matters is this: He really seems to like you, and I want him to be happy. He gets to choose you if he wants to. Do you still like him after all the shit he pulled?”

Jaskier flushes, turning away to look back at the teapot. He shifts awkwardly from foot to foot before he answers. “I’m… angry that he wasn’t more forthcoming, but it’s not like I asked, either. I definitely brought it on myself.” Licking his lips, he fiddles with the strainer. “But despite that… can I be honest with you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want an honest answer,” she gives him an amused look. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Forgive me, darling. I’m feeling a little out of my depth right now. I usually don’t have a long conversation with the wife, you know? I’m still trying to wrap my head around… uh, what’s happening here.”

Yennefer chuckles, her eyes twinkling. “This is only the tip of it. But you haven’t answered my question yet.”

His throat bobs visibly as he swallows, his flush deepening. “Right. Well.” He pulls the strainer out too early, leaving himself with weak tea. Stopping as he realizes this, he sinks it back into the pot with a shake of his head and turns around, forcing himself to leave it be. This puts him facing Yennefer, which isn’t much better, but at least it gives him fewer things to make messes with as he loses his composure. “I ah, very much do like him still. Yes.”

Yennefer smirks, pleased that she can fluster him. As long as he knew who was boss, then as far as she was concerned, he’d probably do fine.

“Good. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know that.” She folds her fingers under her chin, contemplating the uneasy looking man before her. “The other thing I want you to know is that I won’t be going anywhere if you decide to date him. You will always have me to deal with; I married him, he is my husband, he is the father of my child. I expect you to respect that. Are we clear?”

Jaskier feels as if someone has poured ice water down the back of his shirt. He’s been in polyamorous arrangements before, but never with someone so fucking intimidating. “As crystal,” he replies weakly. “I wouldn’t imagine getting between you and him, not for a minute.” After all, he didn’t have a death wish.

“Well then,” she says, pulling a hotel business card out of her purse and writing a number in a neat hand on the back. “As long as that’s understood, here’s the hotel phone number. Take a few days to think about it. If you really want to see him… That’s up to you. But if you do? Take him out on a date. Treat him the way he should be treated. He deserves that. If you don’t, please remember that I am more than happy to bury your dead body.” She smiles sweetly and extends the card to him. He takes it delicately from her, looks the number over, and then tucks the card into the breast pocket over his heart.

“He does deserve a real date,” Jaskier agrees nervously, feeling caught between the hope and guilt and confusion all swarming around inside of him. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.” He feels like his face is burning, and he knows from her smile that she can see how uncomfortable he is.

“Now. The last thing I need for now is his backpack. It has things he needs in it, and I’d like to make sure they’re there for him when he wakes up.” She says with an air of finality, standing. “Can you please get it for me?”

“Of course,” he says, pushing off of the counter, glad to have something to do to break the tension of the moment. “Just a minute.” He retreats to the bedroom and there is the sound of dragging and rummaging. A moment later he emerges with a set of keys.

“Come with me?” he offers, gesturing with his head towards the door. She rises and nods, following him out the front door and up the staircase to the loft. He unlocks the door for her and steps aside, allowing her past him into the quiet room. It’s starting to get hot as the mid-morning sunshine radiates through the round window in the eaves, but unlike the outside, the inside hasn’t yet turned unpleasant.

Yennefer steps carefully into the loft, looking around. It’s a peaceful, neat little space, mostly unruffled except for Geralt’s boxes piled neatly against the back walls. His backpack still sits at the foot of the bed. She retrieves it, brushes her fingers fondly over the box labeled ‘Correspondence’ on her way back, and meets Jaskier at the door.

“Thank you,” she states, sounding firm but sincere. She, at least, feels more settled now about getting out of Geralt’s way. Some things about the situation still don’t feel right to her, but she’s no longer on red alert. It was enough to be moving on with, at least.

Jaskier nods. “Of course. I’ll see you soon, Yennefer.” He fidgets awkwardly, then says, “Thank you, too. For leveling with me.”

She smirks. “Get used to it.” She says dryly, then turns and heads down the stairs to her car without further comment. He stands at the top and watches her go, fiddling with the keys between his fingers, at a loss for words.

The quiet little library near the MWR was almost deserted at this time of day. It never saw heavy traffic at any time, but right after evening mess most men had more interesting things to do than hit the books. Coën pushed his way into the library curiously, looking around from side to side. At first, aside from the librarian, there was no one to be seen. Then, as he rounded one of the stacks, the tan metal shelving opened out into a little seating area with some battered gold and cream yellow velvet plush chairs and a little work table in the middle of the space. Seated in one of the chairs was Geralt, holding a book in one hand, his expression serious as he read it.

Coën smiled with pleasure. He’d been noticing the big man vanish after evening mess for weeks now, but this was the first time he’d had a good opportunity to follow him and find out what he got up to after hours. Most of the men on base scattered for the MWR or the smoke pit, but he’d never seen him in either of those spots. The only place he’d ever seen Geralt spend much free time was the track; he had a tendency to run when he wasn’t otherwise occupied. He didn’t run after dinner though; cracking where he went was something Coën had been meaning to do. Pleased, he walked out from behind the shelf.

Geralt oriented to the movement immediately, half-closing his book and switching the intensity of his gaze onto Coën. The force of it hit Coën like a blow to the chest and he stopped, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Aside from being their liaison on base and in the field, Geralt also commanded his own men. Coën had heard he had a fearsome reputation. While he hadn’t yet been able to see why, the look the man was giving him right now gave an inkling of what they might have been talking about. Around Yennefer, the young lieutenant was often awkward and caught on his left foot (although to be fair, most people were; she preferred it that way,) but here alone, he had a quiet, powerful presence that gave Coën pause.

“Hey, man,” he said with a friendly smile, pitching his voice low in the silent library. “Finally found you. How’s it going?”

Geralt gave him a wooden look, then closed his eyes as if summoning strength to deal with this intrusion into his personal space. Coën, usually confident and easygoing, shifted awkwardly. When Geralt opened his eyes again, he marked the book carefully and set it aside.

“What do you want.” He asked flatly. The full bore of his attention on Coën was vaguely uncomfortable, but Coën wasn’t about to be deterred. He was used to Yennefer, after all.

“I wanted to talk, man. Get to know you a little. We work together all the time, why not?” He fixed Geralt with a charming, lopsided grin, leaning his shoulder lightly on the shelf next to him.

Geralt took this in, unimpressed. “Where’s Yennefer?” Of all the things that he wanted to deal with right now, being harassed by both of them on his off hours was not it. He eyed Coën skeptically.

“Off base doing errands, last I checked.” Coën replied easily. “Want to come out for a run with me?”

“No.”

“A drink then? C’mon. On me.”

Geralt hesitated, then grumbled reluctantly. He didn’t want to socialize, but free booze was hard to turn down. “Fine.”

He picked the book up and stood, unfolding to his full height with an easy grace. From where he was standing he could see the librarian, whose eye he caught. Geralt gave the librarian a short nod before starting out the door. Coën could have sworn he caught a slight smile between the two of them, so quick he wasn’t entirely sure he saw it, but then Geralt was pushing past him and he was turning to follow. The little moment popped like a soap bubble and faded from Coën’s notice, forgotten, as he followed the big man out the door.

When they arrived at the bar Geralt walked in without comment, leaving Coën to follow him. At this time of day the space was warm and full of the smell of good food, dotted with patrons chatting over drinks and baskets of falafels. Geralt leaned his elbows on the bar and greeted the owner in Hebrew as Coën came into hearing range. The man shook his head, corrected him, and Geralt tried again, this time holding up two fingers. The dark-haired man smiled and nodded this time, then looked up and waved to Coën as he approached.

Geralt turned as Coën neared and slapped Coën’s shoulder, just a little too hard to be entirely companionable. “He’s paying.”

Coën grinned, unperturbed, and slid into the bar seat next to where Geralt was standing. “Give me a basket of those falafels, too. They smell fantastic,” he said.

“You got it,” the bartender replied, placing a beer and a shot of arak in front of each of them. Coën nodded his thanks and grabbed the arak first, downing it, welcoming the burn. Geralt did the same, tossing it back in one go. The liquor was strong, having the tendency to punch the drinker in the sinuses with a sharp hit of vaporized alcohol and aniseed. They both shook their heads to clear the burn, then took large swallows of beer to wash it back. Blinking their watering eyes, they turned to look at one another, considering one another in the quiet near the front of the bar.

“Why are you bothering me?” Geralt asked him bluntly. “Don’t you have something better to do on your off hours?”

“I’m buying you food and booze, I’d hardly call that bothering you,” Coën replied dryly. Geralt quirked the tiniest of smiles and turned away, shrugging. His eyes tracked as the bartender brought the falafels back to them. Coën grabbed them and jerked his head. “Let’s grab a table.”

“Fine.” Geralt said, eyeing his back with a little frown as he followed him across the bar. Coën was a little shorter than Geralt, although he was by no means a small man, with a leanly muscled frame and a confident posture. He wore a brown shirt and fatigues, though his press pass was now stuffed safely away, no longer needed off base. When he turned and sat, Geralt sank into the seat across from him. His face was plain but friendly, with terrible pockmark scarring from some sort of accident or illness. He grew a short beard over it, neatly trimmed, which slightly eased the effect of the scarring. His eyes were a little unsettling, a pale yellow green like a cat’s eyes, the whites riddled with red streaks from some sort of old injury.

“What happened to your face?” Geralt asked, setting his beer on the table.

“Boy, you just jump right to it, don’t you, big guy?” Coën replied affably. “That’s none of your goddamn business. But since you’re asking, it happened while I was over in ‘Nam. Got me a medical discharge out of it, and fuck all else.” He shrugged and waved his hand, indicating Geralt’s body and face. “What’s with the whole… pale, spooky thing?” A grin played over his face as he saw Geralt sit back. The young soldier’s expression changed quickly from offense to understanding as he caught on that he was being mildly rebuffed for his rudeness.

“It’s genetic,” he explained with a little grimace. “And if you’re about to call me Casper, save your breath. I’ve heard all of it before.”

Coën’s grin widened. He took a big swallow of his beer and then leaned towards Geralt. “I was about to ask if your mother fucked a snowman, but I guess we’ve got that all covered,” he teased. Geralt pulled a face at him, wavering between offense and laughter. Coën popped a falafel into his mouth, still smiling, then pushed the basket towards the middle of the table towards Geralt.

“So tell me about yourself. What’s with the library thing?”

“What’s with the disturbing my reading thing?” Geralt grumbled back at him, but he took a falafel and bit into it. Coën waited, still unperturbed, and after a moment Geralt said, “I like it because it’s quiet. I get a chance to catch up on my reading after dinner when no one’s there.”

“What were you reading about?” Coën asked, then drained his beer. “Want another round?” Geralt nodded cautiously, draining his own beer and setting the empty glass aside. Coën nabbed it and brought it back to the bar, returning a moment later with full glasses and another round of arak.

They pounded the shots back as Coën sat, then Geralt replied. “Hebrew. I’m trying to get fluent.” He gave Coën an uneasy look. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Coën shrugged comfortably. “I prefer fantasy. Love me some Lord of the Rings.”

“Oh,” Geralt said, sounding a little surprised. He wasn’t used to people actually engaging in conversation with him about books. “Why?”

“I don’t know man,” Coën said, waving his hand. “Swords? Dwarves? Elves? It’s a fun escape, I guess.”

Geralt smiled slightly, nodded, nabbed another falafel. “What do you usually do on your off time?”

“What, when I’m not with Yennefer?” Geralt nodded, and Coën stretched in his chair, pondering. “Physical training. Fuck. Read,” he tipped his beer at Geralt in a friendly gesture, “Play cards, if there’s a game on. Harass people who don’t want to be bothered,” he said with another grin.

This time Geralt snorted into his beer, nodding. “Ok. Fine. Where are you from?”

Coën leaned comfortably in his chair and swiped another falafel. “Michigan. You?”

“Poland,” he replied, tossing his beer back. “My parents were stationed out there when I was born.”

“Poland, huh? How’d you end up back in the States?”

“Military school. It’s a long story.” Geralt shrugged, his face closing off, and he changed the subject. “How’d you meet Yennefer?”

“Mm.” Coën eyed Geralt curiously, but let the subject drop. “I met her when I was over in ‘Nam. Saw her burn through a bunch of my COs like they were cheap paper and I thought, I have to know this woman.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “She wasn’t easy to get to know, but,” he shrugged. “I’m charming.”

Geralt shook his head, smiling slightly as he bit into a falafel.

“Then… after a series of long stories I’m not gonna get into, she ended up out in the field with my unit, which was fucking insane given what was going on out there. Long story short, she saved my ass. I’m pretty much ride or die now.”

Geralt nodded thoughtfully, then stood. “I’ll buy this round.”

“Sounds good, man.”

When he returned, he passed Coën his drinks and sat down. This time, with the drinks, Geralt offered him a smile.

Hours later, when they staggered out of the bar together, their arms were wrapped around one another’s shoulders.

In the parking lot of the mall, Yennefer pulls into the parking space and pulls the emergency break. Now that she is done talking with Jaskier, she wants to check in with Coën, finally update him, make sure that everything is okay with him and Ciri. She pulls out a big, blocky cell phone and dials a number. It only rings twice before someone on the other end picks up. She turns the blowers down as a man’s voice answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s Yenna, Coën. I found Geralt, he’s safe. How are you and Ciri doing?” Her voice is quiet but carries clearly across the phone line.

“Yenna,” the man, Coën, replies with relief. “It’s good to hear from you. I actually just got her down for a rest.” Yennefer can hear a small shuffling sound as he shifts the phone to his other ear, then settling sounds. “She had a helluva meltdown a little while ago.”

“Is she sleeping?”

“As far as I know, yes. Last time I looked in on her she was out.” He sounds tired, but his voice is steady, calm. “It was a bad one. She’s not hurt, but I just finished sweeping up the last of her lunch plate off the floor.”

Yennefer sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose lightly. “Do you know what caused it?”

“I don’t think there was any one thing this time. She misses you, she’s scared about her dad being gone, her routine’s thrown off. This time the thing that kindled it off was the water from her steamed broccoli touching her ketchup, but…” He sighs, and she can hear fabric shifting, probably a shrug. “As you know, that usually doesn’t set her off like this.” She can hear another shuffle as he shifts.

“She’d been asking about you a lot since you didn't call yesterday morning, even though we both told her you’d be missing a day… which got me thinking it’s more about missing you than the fucking ketchup. She’ll be ok, but I’m glad you called. You said you’ve finally found Geralt?” A note of worry enters his easygoing voice, and she can almost see the look of concern on his pockmarked face.

“I found him, Coën.” She confirms. “He’s safe in my hotel room right now. I found him with a man.” A frustrated sigh bursts out from her. “I can’t believe him. This is how he got tossed out of the Army, and the second he hits civilian soil he’s in someone else’s pants. This isn’t like him.”

“He what?” On the other end of the line, Coën bursts into laughter. “Oh man, good for him! He deserves a little happy. What the fuck happened to him, anyway? Last I heard you hadn’t been able to get any details about the damn discharge, I’ve been worried sick.”

“We all have. I still am. He’s in a bad way.” And with that, she relates the events of the past day to her friend, filling him in on the details of Geralt’s discharge, how dangerous his depression has become, and the circumstances under which she found him. Coën listens patiently, stopping her only rarely to ask a clarifying question. She winds up by detailing everything she’s learned about Jaskier, ending on an amused note. “So, that situation is totally barmy. Trust Geralt to find the most impulsive man in Rhode Island… I really hope he’s going to be ok. I know I don’t get much say in this, but it worries me.”

On the other end of the line, she can hear another soft rustle as Coën shifts and re-settles himself while he mulls this over. “I don’t know, Yenna… it sounds like it’s not the worst situation I’ve ever heard of.”

“Coën-”

“Stop. Listen. I get why you’re upset. The guy sounds like he’s a little fuckin’ foolish, but when has Geralt gone in for anything else?”

“Coën!” she exclaims, insulted. “Excuse me?”

“Except for you, sweetie. You know I never mean you. But Eskel? He’s never had all his screws tightened down and you know it. At least this guy seems genuinely interested in him.”

Yennefer sighs and nods. “You’re right. Whatever else is happening, his idiot really does seem to like him,” she admits.

“That’s good,” Coën chuckles. Then he asks, “Hey, what the fuck is he wearing? All of his stuff is here! Oh… Yenna, don’t tell me he’s in his old clothes from storage…”

Yennefer slowly grins. “He is. Spares from his twenties, too.”

On the other end of the line, Coën bursts out in quiet laughter. “Do they even fit?”

“Depends on how you define ‘fit’,” she replies dryly. “They’re a bit tight across the shoulders now.”

“Oh man, and he’s just walking around wearing that? You’ve got to be kidding me. I ain’t gonna be able to mail his clothes overseas fast enough to rescue that disaster, you have got to get him new clothes.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re not wrong… I’m already on it. I’m actually about to go pick him up a few things, I just thought I'd call you first.” she says, then trails off. The smile falls from her face.

“Coën, this feels crazy. I know I already agreed that we’d stay and work it out but… Between you and me, I just want him home safe. I don’t know if I’m making the right choice staying here.”

She can hear another rustle, and when he speaks, Coën’s voice is serious and quiet, muffled to avoid waking Ciri. “I get that. I really do. But… What do you honestly think is going to happen if we put him on a plane and force him back to London? He’ll hate you, for a start. We can’t strongarm another bar owner into giving him a job with his special interest, either, and I don’t think he’ll make it if he doesn’t have something to do. Not the way you’re talking about him right now. That scares the shit out of me.” He sighs, and then speaks again, barely audible now. “Besides, Ciri needs her dad to be happy. You know what will happen if we put them together right now before he’s stable.”

Yennefer feels her stomach plunge as Coën points that out, pressing her lips together. Reluctantly, she nods. “You’re not wrong about that. I bloody fucking wish you were, but…”

Coën hums softly in agreement on the other end of the line. “Listen.” He says, after a long moment of worried silence. “I know you’re nervous, but take the crappy impulse sex out of the picture for a minute and look again. He’s met a man who likes him a lot. He’s so into him that he finally admitted to you that he’s gay. That’s like, moving fucking mountains material. And you know how much he loves mixing drinks, it’s like an illness. I fucking hate when he starts talking about it because he won’t fucking shut up. Don’t get me wrong, it’s sweet, but-”

“It’s fucking exhausting,” she agrees with a laugh. “You’re right, this job offer is right up his alley. If he’d come to it a little more honestly, I’d probably be thrilled for him…” She hesitates, then adds, “About all of it. He really likes Julian. He blushes when he talks about him.”

“Oh ho ho ho!” Coën crows quietly. “You’re kidding me! Mr. My Face is Carved Out of Granite Rivii, blushing? That I have to see for myself.” Yennefer laughs again, feeling deeply held tension in her chest and stomach begin to ease.

“It’s quite the sight,” she admits with a smile. “It’s nice to see.”

“I bet. So it sounds like you’re not going to be home anytime soon.”

“Probably not.”

“What do you want me to tell Ciri?”

Yennefer sits back in her seat heavily and sighs, then flips down the sun visor so that she can open the mirror on the back of it and inspect her makeup as she thinks. The process grounds her, bringing her back to her center. She carefully sweeps a finger under one eye, corralling a minute smudge of eyeliner before she responds.

“Tell her that I love her very much, and that I will call her before bed tonight. I will keep up with her morning calls until I figure out what to do… Beyond that, it’s hard to say what next steps should be until I see how this rumpus between Geralt and his idiot takes shape.” She pauses, chewing the inside of her lip.

“What are you thinking about?” Coën asks quietly, voice gentle.

“I’m thinking about what to do with Ciri. If everything goes well here, I don’t want to just leave Geralt alone and go back to London.” “So move her. We’ve been all over the world, Yenna. Rhode Island isn’t dangerous, what’s the problem?”

She looks up at the ceiling of the car, huffing and studying the velvety fabric above her. “It feels crazy, is the problem.”

“This whole thing is crazy. Our life is crazy. It’s ok, we know how to land on our feet. Maybe start looking into a month-to-month for you two, you don’t know how long Geralt’s going to need you over there. Maybe start scouting for bigger places in case you decide to move us, too? I’ll get a few things wound up over here, just in case, and… we’ll feel it out, ok? No need to make any big decisions yet. Let’s just make sure Geralt is safe first. Ciri’s safe with me, you can handle yourself, everything else is gonna be fine. Ok?”

Her hand comes up to her chest and presses it as she listens to Coën, trying to ease some of the sudden ache in her heart. As she gets wrapped up in the calm safety of his voice, it finally occurs to her just how emotionally exhausted she is. She takes a moment to sit with it, breathing slowly until the worst of the ache has passed and she is thinking clearly again. Coën waits patiently on the other end of the line, his own breath quiet and steady in her ear.

“I still don’t like it.”

Coën laughs, muffling his chuckle so as not to wake Ciri. “I know, sweetie. You wouldn’t be you if you did. You were never gonna like any boyfriend of Geralt’s, it’s not in your nature... That’s ok. Give it time. Go get ‘im, sweetie, that little twink isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

She breaks out in a sudden laugh at that, pleased. “He already doesn’t. I’ve got that boy properly terrified.”

“Good. Keep the little fucker in line until I can meet him,” Coën says warmly. “I’ll beat him up for both of you if he doesn’t do right by our boy.”

“Thank you,” she replies with a smile. “I’ll let you know what’s happening as soon as I know. Give Ciri a hug for me?”

“You got it. Anything else before I go?”

She hesitates, then grins mischievously. “The bar has leather nights.”

“Oh, Geralt is going to die,” Coën giggles quietly, still trying to muffle himself. “Oh lord, thank you for telling me that. That’ll do.”

“You’re welcome. Talk to you soon.”

“Yup. Give Geralt a hug for me when you get back to him.”

“I will,” she promises. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

She ends the call and drops the phone back into her purse, sighing heavily. She feels more grounded now, but the weight of the situation sits heavily on her heart. Like no matter where she turns, something unpredictable looms, out of her control. Closing her eyes and leaning back in her seat, she gives herself a long, slow moment to gather her thoughts. The conversation with Coën was calming, and she feels much clearer now. Once she is gathered, she gets out of the car and shuts the door firmly. Now that was all settled, it was time to get Geralt some clothes.

~*~

When she arrives back at the hotel room some time later, Geralt is just starting to stir. He is lying there blinking in the dimness of the hotel room, feeling like he is being crushed under a ton of bricks, when he hears the click of the magnetic key card sliding in the lock. Sitting up on his elbow, he watches as Yennefer pushes through the door with a bag on her elbow and his backpack slung over her shoulder. Oh, crap. That’s right, she’d gone shopping for him. Despite the fact that he’s grateful he didn’t have to go to the store himself, he still feels apprehension about the prospect of a whole new set of clothing. Groaning, he flops back against his pillow and scrubs his hand over his stubbly face.

Yennefer smiles as she watches him do this, setting the bag down on the little round table. “I have more in the car, kochany.” She gestures to the little counter with the mini fridge and coffee maker, where a bag of ground coffee sits waiting for him. “I bought some decent coffee in case I found you. Why don’t you get that started?” Geralt grumps out a muffled noise from behind his hand, not moving.

Then she walks over and deposits the backpack next to his side of the bed. “Got your razor.” Leaning over, she plucks his hand off of his face and kisses his forehead, then his lips, light and sweet, and is rewarded with a little flicker of a smile.

“Thank you, neshama shelì.” Geralt rumbles softly, his voice still thick with sleep. “How did everything go?”

“Well… I still don’t entirely get what you see in him,” she teases gently, sitting next to him on the bed, forcing him to scoot slightly to the side to make room for her. “But. We had a long talk, and I have a better feel for who he is as a person.” She trails her fingers lightly along his arm, affectionate.

“And?” Geralt asks, tilting his head and eyeing her with guarded curiosity in the dimness.

“And,” she sighs and smiles, patting his chest. “I suppose I can see something of what you see in him. He’s a pillock, and he’s too impulsive for my liking, but he’s also… kind. Soft. Generous. More thoughtful than I gave him credit for. So,” she says, turning to smile down at him, “I left him with the hotel room’s number. The ball’s in his court now, kochany. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Geralt looks back up at her, his face unreadable in the dim half-light of the hotel room. He nods, his eyes sliding closed, still groggy and emotionally hungover after the day previous. Yennefer pats his chest gently one last time and then says, “I also talked to Coën. He and Ciri are doing well, and he’s glad that you are okay. He told me to hug you for him.” And with that she leans over, giving him a gentle squeeze. He huffs out a noise of mild protest, but deep down he enjoys the hug. She smirks as she rises. “I’ll be back with the rest of the bags in just a minute. I’ll fill you in about the rest over breakfast.”

He grunts a sleepy noise of acknowledgement, waiting until she leaves to slowly rise. Every movement causes his body to burn with exhausted pain. All of the raw sadness and grief that he’d been staving off for weeks has collapsed in on him, and he can barely breathe under it. Grumbling softly, he sets up the coffee maker, pulls his shaving things and his dog tags out of his bag, and limps into the bathroom for a shower.

By the time he is out, he can hear Yennefer moving around in the room outside the door. He uses a towel to swipe the mirror clear. This time he doesn’t even try to meet his own eyes. Instead, he sets about the routine that he’s done nearly every day of his adult life, the same way every time. It is unspeakably grounding to feel the cold pattern of strokes across his skin as the razor cuts away the night’s stubble.

When his skin is finally smooth for the first time in weeks, it feels like a weight has fallen off of him. He sighs deeply in contentment as he washes the remaining soap off of his face and rubs his hand gently over his cheeks. Then, he turns to his dog tags. There on the chain is his wedding band, a plain gold ring.

Yennefer had put it on him a long time ago, and it is one of his most treasured possessions. It had never felt right to hide it, but he’d been so certain that he didn’t deserve them anymore. That they would reject him. Now that he knew differently, it was a relief to see it again. It had always been an honor to wear.

Gently, he removes it and puts it back on his ring finger. When he emerges from the bathroom, Yennefer can see the difference in him. Her eyes flicker to the ring and back, and she gives him a little smile. That was a good sign, she knew. It meant he felt connected enough to his family to wear it.

“Better?” She asks, watching him walk out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Better,” he agrees, fingering his chin.

“Good.” She smiles. “There’s fresh clothes on the bed for you.” With a tip of her head, she indicates the jeans, dark blue button down, undershirt, underwear, belt, and socks that she’s laid out on Geralt’s side of the bed.

“Thanks,” he squints, eyeing them distrustfully.

“Just try them, Geralt, they won’t bite,” Yennefer suggests wryly, taking another pair of jeans out of a bag and clipping the tags off of them. “You’ll have to get used to wearing them someday, might as well start now.”

“Hmm.” He grunts, casting her a look of very mild irritation. She smiles back at him, he rolls his eyes, then capitulates and heads over to inspect the new clothing for himself. It’s simple, sturdy, well-made. When he picks up the shirt, it’s surprisingly soft. He shoots a glance at Yennefer, who gives him a ‘See? Told you to trust me,’ look in return.

Grumbling softly, caught somewhere between feeling annoyed and loved, he puts the shirt on. He discovers that the underwear is comfortable, too. To his surprise, even the socks are pleasant, dress socks with fine seams that don’t bother his feet when he puts them on. The jeans are a little stiff, but they’re new and that can’t be helped. The clean clothing feels nice, as does the fact that it fits a great deal better than his old clothing did. He walks over to the mirrors paneling the little closet door in the corner of the room and eyes himself uncomfortably.

“What do you think?” Yennefer asks from across the room, an amused note lilting her voice.

“I hate it,” Geralt gripes, only half serious. He tugs at the shirt and grimaces at his reflection. The outfit feels surprisingly nice on his skin, and deep down, he knows he’ll get accustomed to it quickly.

“Liar,” Yen chuckles warmly, setting aside a wine-red shirt in a small pile of other clothing.

“Hmm.” Geralt hums, walking over to the little counter to get himself a cup of coffee. Then he turns around and leans against it, eyeing Yen and her bags skeptically.

“I know I need clothes, Yen, but really?” He complains, as he watches her pull out a deep purple shirt and clip its tags, adding to the pile.

“Really,” she says firmly. “You’ll feel better if you look presentable, Geralt. Especially at that new job of yours, if you decide to take it.” She glances up at him, a twinkle in her eye. Then she gestures at a shirt on top of the pile of work clothing she’s set aside for him.

He gives her a wide-eyed look, then walks over and tentatively picks up the shirt that she’d indicated. It is just a black button down shirt, nothing fancy. But it is more than that, too. It is a silent statement of support from her, and as such, it means the world to him.

She smiles to herself, setting aside the empty bag in her lap. “Want to go get breakfast somewhere, moj drogì?” She asks. “I saw a few places nearby that looked good.” He glances up from his coffee warily. To be perfectly honest, all he wanted to do was sleep, but he was all slept out, so after a moment of hesitation he nods.

“Good. Once I’m done here we’ll leave.”

He nods again, downing his coffee and pouring himself another cup. Then he walks over quietly behind her back and leans down, kissing the top of her head.

“Thank you for the clothes, Yen.”

“You’re welcome.” She replies warmly, leaning back into his stomach. Her violet eyes peer up from underneath her lashes, a slow smile lighting her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He takes a sip of coffee, holding her head and gently savoring her curls with his fingertips. They both close their eyes, soaking up the warmth of being together. It might not be a usual sort of love, but it was theirs, and neither would have traded it for the world.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #jaskier #yennefer #witcher coen #ciri #modern au #modern gay bar au #geraskier pride week 2020 #geraskier fic #witcher #witcher fic #witcher fanfiction

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years

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01/31/2021 DAB Transcript

Exodus 12:14-13:16, Matthew 20:29-21:22, Psalms 25:16-22, Proverbs 6:12-15

Today is the 31st day of January welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is great to be here with you as we end and begin, right? So, we’re ending the first month of the year. Can you believe that exactly one month ago was December 31st and we were at the end of the year and just getting ready to launch on to this journey? Now we are a month in. It's gone quick, and there’s a lot…a lot that we have learned and I just…I mean the new year…I need…I needed the new year to come. And I think a lot of people did too, and I'm just really encouraged by what the Scriptures are speaking into our lives as we continue. So, we’re just marking this moment where we reached the end of our first month. Today's reading will end that first month and tomorrow we’ll be in the second month of the year. And it just goes and goes quickly, but it also goes at the pace that it needs to go out. So, I just want to tell you, well done. I mean we've been at…this is 31 days we can do this. If we’ve made it this far, we can…we can make this journey work. And, so, let's dive in. This is a brand-new shiny sparkly week that we are walking into and we will read from the Voice Translation this week, picking up the story of…well...Moses and Pharaoh and the enslaved Hebrew people. And God's full intention that is people are not going to be slaves anymore. And, so, we begin. Exodus chapter 12 verse 14 through 13 verse 16.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You, we thank You for Your word and we thank You for bringing us through this first full month in Your word for this voyage, the voyage of 2021. And we are…we have set sail and we are well on our way and we are grateful for the shifting that is beginning to take place. Like it's…it’s starting to become a rhythm and we’re starting to feel like we can do this and we’re a part of something. We are grateful for that. We invite Your Holy Spirit to lead us into all truth. This is one of the promises of the Scriptures, that You would lead us into all truth. That is what we are asking for, that is what we seek, that You would lead us on the pathways of truth, that You would lead us on what Jesus called the narrow path that leads to life, that we would embrace wisdom as…as a best friend and that we would walk the pathways of wisdom. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the name of Jesus we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it’s the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here. So, check out what's going on around here and stay connected.

Check out the Community section. This is where the Prayer Wall is.

Check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop. There are a whole plethora of resources that are available there, some things that are just…just pure fun but some things that are pure fun but also productive and things to take this journey deeper, things to listen to, things to read. So, check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop. If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, if…if the mission that we hold in common to bring the spoken word of God read fresh every day and offered freely to anyone who will listen to it anywhere on this planet any time of day or night, and to build community around that rhythm, because it is a rhythm and it's not a solitary one, it's…it's a communal one, if that has made a difference to you than thank you for your partnership. There is a link that lives on the homepage. If you're using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement you can dial 877-942-4253 or you can just simply hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the little red button up at the top and share from there no matter where you are in the world.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi, my name is Desiree I'm a 13-year-old girl. I've been studying and recently found out my mom was a drug addict and now that I've seen so many things pass during my life when I was taken away from her at the age of 6 years old and went to my aunt and uncle's house which are now my new parents because I got adopted from them and I've been going through some rough times because of all the things that my mother has done like when I recently found out that she was a drug addict I just broke down and started crying and I…I couldn't believe what she did an…and the fact is that she wants to bring me or some other people and that…that's not really our fault and the fact is that she doesn't care. And I just wish that everything was the same, but I just asked for prayer that she just helps us. I mean God help us and please pray help and thank you.

Hey guys it's your brother from Indiana I'm just calling to just…just out of greatness just out of all the awesome __ right now. I just heard that Sean has recently came to Christ, you know, just this past year. He said he got baptized last Sunday. He's been reading the Bible. I just pray encouraging… just that…that…that the Holy Spirit would encourage you. Man that…that's amazing. I'm so glad and I'm so glad you're, you know, I'm just really glad and I pray a special blessings upon you and your future. You say you may want to go on mission trips. God's will be done. May you have eyes and ears to hear that. Also, By God's Grace I didn't hear the last part of that but Covid and breast cancer. That is a really traumatic experience, but you have the faith to know that God is our great physician. I pray that your family have increased faith, you would recognize the blessings around you being your family three beautiful daughters and I pray __ for your whole family, your husband, and man or girl, I…I'm sorry. Just blessings and for anyone that has depression especially teenagers, I'm just praying for you today that your eyes be lifted to God the maker of the heavens and the earth in Jesus’ name I'm praying. Thank you, guys. And girls. I love you.

Hi DAB family I have never actually called before but I did hear a prayer from By Your Grace Sherry and I just wanted to let you know that sometimes when we pray for God to increase our faith, He puts us in situations that essentially force us to have faith in Him that He will put us through. There is so much power in faith that we…that God wants us to be able to tap into. There is so much love and passion and Satan definitely wants to keep us from all of that. So, I just wanted to say keep on going. Sometimes what we ask for is certainty in faith rather than actual faith, but I will pray for you and I do hope that God will God will show you some amazing things during this time that you are, that you have to lean on him in order to get through this. So, I'll be praying for you.

Hello everybody my name is Josh and I've been listening for several years. I've never called because honestly, I rarely listen to the prayer request and the only reason I was listening today was because it was one of those rare occasions where I was actually running and I just couldn't reach my phone but as I was listening I heard Zealand Isabel from Georgia and they were so moved by her story I literally stopped in my tracks. She was explaining that she has a brain problem and that it has affected her right side and she has trouble with seizures and that she is looking for prayer from the Daily Audio Bible community. Zealand Isabel if you're listening, I want to tell you something about my family. I have two daughters on this earth. The oldest is 4 years old and was a twin. She and her sister were born really early, so early that one didn't make it out of the hospital, and she is with Jesus. Now the other one or the one who's for now, had a brain bleed that, like you, affected her right side. Today she would tell you that her right side just moves a little different, but I see how hard she works every day on things that I would otherwise take for granted. And I am sure that you work hard every day as well. I pray for my daughter each morning, that she would be healed but also that she would be strong and would know Jesus more she grows up. I pray for her to be like you. I want you to know for sure that you are strong, and I will be praying for you along with my daughter every day. I speak healing over you from the one who made you and pray blessings on you.

Hi, Macy here from Texas and…and I'm a new listener. I just turned 6 and I wanted to say I listen to you… to your bibles… to your Bible…to the Bible stories that you read to us so I…so I would…so I would like…so today I'm also listening to one too. So, and I love them too and I just wanted to say that. So, bye.

Hello this is Donna from California and recently a couple of people have called in that I just really, really some calls really touch you very deeply, they all do but these in particular did for me. There was a lady who called, and she has since had a lot of response. A lady who called in and said she had Covid and her husband had left her after 47 years of marriage. This broke my heart. And then another lady, Amy, from Canada called recently just expressing the loneliness and the…I too, didn't sign up to be single. I…I actually had been married. My marriage fell apart about 10 years ago. And I…I didn't sign up to be single. It's very difficult and then I understand people who are well meaning will quote things like “my grace is sufficient for you” and “delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart”, which are very well meaning and very true, but often it just rings hollow because sometimes that comes from people who are blessed with a good marriage. Not to sound bitter. But I just want to offer a quick prayer because I only have like less than 30 seconds. Dear Lord help…help those of us in this situation to believe you. Help us to really search deeply. What are the desires of my heart? My…my desires are for you. And why would I place them anywhere else? I don't know if that helps but I pray for you and I love you. Thank you for calling.

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glass-crayon · 4 years

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Finally, a sequel: Me, an Orthodox Jew with 12+ years of Day School Education and a healthy sense of humor, explains the Haggadah

Kadesh: depending on whether it’s the first night or the second night, you’re either super hyped or thinking “Please god let this one not last till 1 am”. You drink your first cup of wine (or grape juice if you’re a lil wimp- actually who am I to talk I get drunk on Bartenurah) and get a healthy level of tipsy.

Urchatz: The first sign that tonight is not, indeed, like all other nights. You feel like a king/queen when you get your mom to wash your hands for you, because yasss, peasants. Clean my hands. I should not have to pick up this shmucky cup by myself, that is below me.

Karpas: Now, at this time of night I am, let me tell you, STARVING. I think this step was invented sorely to torment us, because I can survive without eating anything for hours with no problem, but as soon as you open those floodgates by letting in a tiny piece of slightly salty potato, lemme tell you, it is torture. But it is a mitzvah I guess so whatever. ooh also the background behind this one is fun- why do we do it? So the children will ask! What a Jewish answer. I love it.

Maggid: This step’s length solely depends on whether you live alone and can speed read Hebrew on your own, or you live in a house with lots of children who all a) have a dvar torah on every phrase and b) need to be constantly entertained. If you’re lucky like me, you get both!!! This step features-

extremely loud, hyper children who suddenly get stage fright and hold up the seder for 10 minutes while you try to coerce them into mumbling the mah nishtana

One of my favorite passages, about Rabbi Eliezer ben azaryah from the talmud who woke up one morning to find out that BAM he looked like a 70 year old man (with beard to match!) because he was extremely well educated. There is something utterly hilarous about a Rabbi going ful Fred and George in the goblet of fire with no warning whatsoever.

The whole sons thing, which is where I personally think JK Rowling got the Harry Potter houses. Don’t believe me? Watch:

Chacham: Ravenclaw

Rasha: Slytherin

Tam: Has to be Gryffindor. Theyre so goddarn stupid

SheEino Yodea Lishol: Hufflepuff- i have an immense hatred for Hufflepuff so here it is. You’re all babies who don’t even merit to understand why you went out of Egypt. bam roasted.

Vayehi SheAmda: I cannot get through this without invariably thinking of that one Mark Twain passage. GO JEWS!!

Then, we enter a section of maggid I like to call: We just said this passuk but now let’s be rashi and go into detail on every word. Need I say more?

Now, let’s talk about how funny the concept of spilling out a little bit of wine is for every plague. First of all, where the heck does it come from. Why? It makes no sense. Who looked around the table and thought the way to pay tribute to the miraculous plagues was to dip your grimy finger that’s been flipping through pages of a 20 year old hagaddah and drop it onto a plate? I just wanna talk.

And what about that whole section afterwards that’s basically just RABBI SHOWDOWN. Oh you think you know how many plagues there were? did you count the ones at the sea? What about accounting for the finger instead of the hand? Idiots.

K now onto Dayenu. This whole thing is also ridiculous because some of the stanzas don’t even make sense. It would have been enough to leave you by the sea but not split it? Um no then you would be attacked by the Egyptians. And splitting it but not leading you through it on dry land? helloooooo this is ancient times in the desert. They don’t know how to swim. Extra props to Nachshon now that I’m thinking about it because as far as he knew, he just drowned himself.

andddd finally maggid concludes with the second cup! Just so you can get a lil bit full before giving yourself major matzah constipation.

Rachtzah: Normal hand washing with a bracha but with that nice princely element of not having to pick up the cup yourself again.

Motzi/Matzah: Time to take that empty stomach and stuff it with burnt, crumbly and messy cardboard! This one sucks because it’s like, oh, only an egg’s worth? No problem! (This step is exacerbated by the fact that you gotta stuff it in your mouth in 2 minutes like it’s the end of the world- that’s why super religious guys full on chipmunk their pieces.) AND THEN YOU FIND OUT THAT’S IN WEIGHT AND YOU HAVE TO EAT A FULL SHEET OF PAPERS WORTH. and all of the sudden it’s a freaking olympics race to consume that against the ticking clocks.

Maror: Oh, you’re full? Too bad! Have some bitter lettuce (or, if you have a truly psycho family, horseradish. I pray for yall). You don’t even taste the charoses. It’s disgraceful

Korech: What’s that? You really can’t eat anymore? Time for the worst sandwich you’ll have all year! Consisting of this is definitely not bread and more bitter lettuce! (Seriously tho, this would have slapped in the times of the temple when there was lamb in the middle.)

The backstory behind this step is also hilarious. Everyone agreed you had to eat Pesach, matzah, and maror seperate except for renowned sage hillel, who thought you had to eat it in a sandwich. He was clearly wrong, but everyone just went “whatever, we’ll do both I guess, for your honor”. Freaking awesome- just imagine being so famous that people do stuff even though youre wrong.

Shulchan Orech: THE MEAL AT LONG LAST.

Tzafun: Oh now you really can’t take another bite? Have another half-sheet of papers worth of matzah that youve gotta compete against the clock for again. But no! Not so fast! First you have to find it. :) We love the rabbis! This step is another excuse for spoiled children who are somehow still awake at 12 am to demand presents.

Barech: Ya bentch. Not much to it.

BUT, at the end you do the absolutely wonderful paragraph of shfoch chamatcha with your third cup of wine. What is that, you ask? Well, it translates to an extremely hostile call to god to annihilate the other nations, which you have to say with your front door open. Now, my family takes this a step further, because we’re psychopaths. We full out yell it on our porch for all of our non Jewish neighbors to hear, and be undoubtedly terrified. This year cuz of quarantine absolutely nobody was outside, so when my brother yelled it, you could hear it echoing from hundreds of feet away across the street. It was SPLENDID and we fully thought wed be arrested.

Third cup- all alcohol is disgusting and I hate life.

Hallel: Pretty standard, until you get up to what is usually the last bracha and find out nope they put in an extra 600 word paragraph as a treat! Did I mention I love the rabbis? What sadistic monsters thought this up?

And don’t forget the fourth cup so you can become sufficiently tired of grape juice that’s been sitting out for 4 hours!

Nirtzah: I can see the finish line. Now, my family has more fun traditions including saying the first long stanza (may it be “It came to pass at midnight” or “this is the feast of passover”) in spooky voices to spice stuff up because we all TIRED.

Then, we enter a stage called I speed read everything for my family until we get up to who knows one, another favorite pesach tradition. Here, you have to say your stanza in one breath. It’s always good, especially when my brother gets 13 2 nights in a row and we all get to watch him insist he can get it for 5 minutes straight of failed takes.

How bizzare is chad gadya also? We decide to end the seder with a horrific parable of everyone dying except for god who reigns supreme? Who made that one up?

And thus concludes the seder, where youre dead tired before you remember that you still have to clean up the table and surrounding areas, which by now are coated in a thiccccc layer of matzah crumbs because that stuff is THE DEVIL.

#pesach #passover #jumblr #jewish #jewish holidays #jew #seder

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fanpersoningfox · 5 years

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The tiny detail which I absolutely adored in R&L is the fact that Goethe for whatever reason has learnt Sindarin and Quenya (I can smell something like stormy past in the lotr roleplay from here... ;) so may I swamp you with some questions popped as an afterthought? Like, what languages do Goethe and Schiller speak in this au? And, more importantly, which 20th century/modern authors you think they enjoy? It might be irrelevant, but i'm really curious about your opinion! Bless you and your work ♡

YES. You may ALWAYS swamp me with questions about R&L.

So, first of all, small JoWo had an intense fantasy/LotR phase, that heavily influenced him as a person and an author.

Second of all, languages. I haven't actually put any thought into this before but I'm very glad you ask!

They both speak German as their native language, obviously. Friedrich schwäbelt a little, too, because he grew up there and only moved to Weimar when he was around ten years old. Technically he speaks some kind of ungodly dialect child of Schwäbisch and Thüringisch now but he used to get made fun of a lot in middle school times so he's gotten really good at speaking dialect free German when interacting with people who aren't his family. (This is the in-universe explanation for me not being able to/not wanting to write his dialect since I speak rather dialect free German myself.)

Friedrich learned English in school like everyone else, as well as Latin. He fucking sucked at Latin tho, so he took French as a third foreign language to make up for it, which didn't really work out bc his French is even worse than his Latin. His English is great tho bc he's a millennial and always on the internet (but he has a rather awkward accent bc for some reason that's where his Schwäbisch intonation comes through).

JoWo on the other hand is a language genius and a fucking nerd. His parents sent him to a school with a focus on languages, which means that he didn't just learn English and Latin or French like the rest of us. No, he learned both Latin and French, and Ancient Greek. Then he learned Italian because he was interested in it. And later at uni he also got into Yiddish and Ancient Hebrew, as well as some Arabic. He wants to take another Arabic class though because by now he has quite a bunch of students whose native language it is; just makes it easier being able to talk to the parents properly. And maybe some Turkish. He also understands Spanish and Portuguese because of their Latin roots, and picked up some modern Greek while on vacation.

Now, modern authors. I'm'a be honest, I know like three authors and I'm not sure if Goethe would like either of them. But lemme try.

Goethe is a pretentious bitch and a huge nerd, so he's probably read all of the "classics", from Shakespeare to Fontane to Harari. Wilde of course (bc our boi is pan as fuck). He reads Virginia Woolf for fun and has actually read the brick. Tbh, let's just say he's read every book you've ever thought about "I should read that" and has an opinion on it.

I'm not sure if I want to picture him as a full on fantasy geek or if it's just Tolkien for him, so I'm gonna go with he loves epic fantasy but he's a huge snob and therefore hates a lot of stuff in that genre. He's definitely read the Simarillion and every story that guy's ever written.

Also, he read Andorra and liked it.

And because he speaks a bunch of weird ass languages he's read the brick and the odyssey in the original French and Greek respectively.

Fritz on the other hand has suffered through annoying assigned reading in school like the rest of us and only read Wilde because he's bisexual (he did like it tho). And he's a classics nerd as well but without Goethe's time management skills so he just has a super long to read list.

Huge Harry Potter fan tho (or at least was until jkr started being a racist terf). Generally more into pop culture than JoWo, which includes books. Has not read A Brief History of Mankind and refuses to because it's depressing.

Has read a bunch of feminist/queer theory stuff tho bc he took a seminar at uni (he's too unorganized and busy with writing to read much in his freetime without pressure).

I might just be projecting bc I'm not reading half as much as I would like these days but y'know.

Also, Fritz reads fanfic, preferably of Goethe's works, and has also written some.

#Referendare und Liebe #fox answers #fox writes #schoethe #ask

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vrenaewrites · 4 years

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HUSH HUSH by Becca Fitzpatrick thoughts: Ch 12 - end

Full video here.

CHAPTER 12

Nora’s mom is on her way home

Nora goes to visit V

“I love drugs” LMAO

She goes into a diatribe about her doctor only eating easter candy i’m crying

It was a guy!!! He had dark eyes and he was wearing a ski mask!!!!!

After thought: was jules just manipping them SO HARD they couldn’t keep a grip on what the ski masked person looked like? If so...why keep wearing a ski mask as your calling card??

V had told elliott they were going shopping

Nora tells V about hitting the guy in the ski mask

Ooh nora told patch about shopping too!!!!

Too short and too skinny to be elliott though

V is like “the more i think about it, i really think it was patch”

Nora doesn’t get a chance to tell V about elliott before the drugs kick in hard

“I brought your homework, where do you want it?” she pointed to the trash can LMAO V IS THE BEST

She goes home and hugs her mom

CHAPTER 13

She and V go to borderline where patch works to get info from his coworkers

Nora is sweaty lmao

Nora literally wrote interrogations on one side of a piece of paper and flirting prompts on the other side this girl is ridiculous

V brought slutty heels to make Nora more seductive I’m dead

V invited Jules and Elliott...she’s been seeing Jules

Nora goes to tell V about Elliott but he shows up before she can

Jules doesn’t show up

Nora is like so Elliot if the prep school is so great why did you transfer basically challenging this potential murderer

Elliott is like “heard the girls were hotter at your school”

I am beyond confused as to why V invited these guys who know who Nora is, but also expects Nora to put on a whole ass disguise in the bathroom and go talk to the bartender… Why would you invite these guys along? This just makes it way more difficult…

Nora goes to the bartender and tries to make conversation; is terrible at it, basically asks him is it possible to get hired here with a felony, can I see patch’s job application, does patch have a girlfriend?

Patch is covering a shift so he is NOT off as originally expected

Patch confronts her in the girl’s bathroom and he’s like “are you following me?” POT KETTLE BITCH

She goes to take the high heels off and drops the list of interrogation questions and patch picks it up and I am nervous

Patch had a girlfriend but she’s dead

Gonna call it: she’s the girl who was hanged at kinghorn that Elliott was questioned about

Chapter 14

Her mom “Blinked owlishly” excuse me??

Nora’s mom wants to sell their house because it’s too much $

So Nora decides not to tell mom about the ski mask guy

She asks her mom about knowing if she loved dad and if she was ever afraid of dad

When the pats lost her dad would chop down trees with a chainsaw lmaoooooo what

Nora‘s mom says “ooh a boy is he on chess team? Student council? Tennis team?”

And Nora says… He likes pool… and her mom says “ooh a swimmer” LMAO

Someone ripped her room APART

It’s the ski mask guy!!!!! He jumped out the window

One of the cops looks like patch…

Nothing is messed up when the cops look at the room…

Is Nora going insane or is it angel shit

Unfortunately I think this book would be so much more interesting if I didn’t already know that patch was a fallen angel and I don’t know if that’s my bad for trying to fine just like a quick summary of what the book was about on the Internet, or if like the back of the book let you know that this is about an angel… I mean the cover let you know it’s about an angel but I would’ve thought these dudes are like…serial killers or something and that Nora had some kind of mental issue or they had messed with her iron supplements to make her go nuts…Which might’ve been more interesting than whatever is going on here

Chapter 15

Nora finally tells V about the article and v doesn’t believe her

Nora thinks that she has a great point because Elliot transferred schools after he was questioned… I’m sure it was really hard to keep going to school with people who knew you were a murder suspect...so…

Nora wants to go to kinghorn and question the students about elliott

The fact that this all somehow ties back to fallen angels is really pissing me off because we are halfway through it, and we have not even really from Nora’s point of you introduced the idea of Angels

Nora is suddenly like why the fuck is Jules always sick

Also how is he always around if kinghorn is such a difficult school

Nora realizes the article that she printed about Elliot was missing from her room after the ski mask guy broke in so now she is convinced Skimask guy is Elliot

I will say that I have absolutely no idea where this is going so it is keeping my attention because again I don’t understand how this is going to tie back to angels and why the girl died and etc.

Coach makes V and Patch switch places

“I didn’t do homework” “who did you do?” Bro come on

“The subjects pulse increased on contact”

She goes to her appointment with Miss Green and somehow Miss Green knows that patch took her home from the pier and that patch went into her house what the fuck is going on

I really really really hope that all of this weird shit comes together in the last like five chapters and I end up like screaming OH DUH putting all this together… But because this was recommended as part of my cringe series, I have a very strong feeling that is not going to happen and all of this means nothing

“something about Miss Green bothered me, it was almost like she had an agenda“ yeah bitch she knew a guy took you to your house and came inside, she is stalking you

Chapter 16

Nora runs into Marcy at the library and basically Marcy says V got attacked because someone mistake her for a bear or a moose because she’s fat, and then they have a name calling back-and-forth of skank, slut, anorexic pig like real vile shit

Nora goes to the underground tunnel to get to the parking lot even though...she didn’t drive…

Patch is in the tunnel

“His smile looked like he didn’t play by the rules”

She immediately is like “if he’s gonna rape me he cornered me in the perfect place” JESUS

I mean all women think like that in a dark space but she likes this guy and they go to school together and...damn that was a jump!

Nora gets a car between them and they have like a run around while she’s asking him questions

“Was it a coincidence that the last normal day in my life had been right before that fateful day?” Editor fight me

She lets him take her home again

I am starting to feel like we are back to after, where the same things keep happening over and over for no reason… She was so determined to get answers and then she let it go because he turned the conversation on her...she should’ve just held her ground and then like I am not leaving until you tell me what the fuck is going on, but she didn’t, so does she care or not

He asks her out…

Chapter 17

She is so infuriating, she’s getting ready for this date but thinking about kissing him rather than thinking about getting answers on if this dude is stalking her / reading her mind...it’s so frustrating

The detectives show up

Asking about Marcy…?

Marcy got beat up!!!! By patch??

She lies that patch isn’t on his way

They go to the arcade

He’s behind her showing her how to play pool fuck yeah

He’s like “if I hit this, take off your jacket”

A guy named Rickson shows up, him and patch start roughhousing and we see patch’s giant back scars

They call him patch because he used to get his ass beat in bar fights and had to get patched up a lot lmao

Chapter 18

He leaves her in the Jeep while he gets dinner and she goes sleuthing

So in chapter 18 she is saying she would settle for finding his cell phone number but...she called him at Boze arcade in like the third chapter so what number was that, did you not write it down once you washed it off your hand, or was that the arcades phone... why do you not have his phone number anymore

He has a metal flashlight with blood on it in his glove compartment, making Nora think he had beat up Marcy after all

I swear to God, if he gets back in the car and she starts getting horny for him after finding this flashlight I am not gonna finish this book I am going to quit

He pulled out a gun?!?!?!?!!?!?!???!?!?

Paintball gun. He says it’s paint on the flashlight?? Sure Jan

He gives her a snow globe of the pier, cute!

Mom catches them lmaooo

Chapter 19

So Nora is on the phone with V and she’s like how did the date go with patch and Nora said something about him giving her pool pointers and he says I bet he could give you pointers in other areas… And then the next sentence is V trying to convince Nora once again that patch is the one who broke her arm… So… Why the fuck do you want your best friend to fuck the guy who broke your arm????????

Nora realizes that the angels that were painted on the roller coaster have the same scar that patch has

“My voice was strewn with cobwebs” huh?????

She goes on their home computer to google “angel wings scars” LMAO why did every girl in a YA novel in the early 2000s google what their monster boyfriend was

Info dump re angels: they talk to humans in their minds, can possess them during the unholy Hebrew month

“I filed everything away that I had just read in my mind, and stamped ‘scary’ on the outside“ lmao

“V, do you believe in superheroes? Do you think the Bible is real?”

Chapter 20

Elliott is at her house...drunk

He punches the side of her house

He invites her to go camping with him Jules and V...after he acknowledges she doesn’t like him

He rips her out of the house and throws her against it when she says she doesn’t wanna go

Thank god her mom wakes up

V tries to talk Nora into going, and Nora tells her what happened at the house, and V is like “well he was drunk”

Insert pic of unamused Kristen Stewart face

PLEASE tell me she’s being controlled by the angel powers because wtf

“Maybe you’re trying so hard to pin the ski mask on Elliott because you know it’s patch deep down” she’s not wrong tho patch is also a terrible dude who is stalking(?) her

Nora goes to Portland to investigate Elliott, and kierstens death

She throws away her questions this time, smart

She interrogates the waitress at kierstens old job, who is NOT amused but agrees to tell her some tea if she gets food and tips her big

Kiersten and Elliott were hooking up

Elliott bought kierstens apartment so he def coulda planted the note

Elliott and Jules were in the restaurant talking about a test that Jules has failed...I get the feeling it wasn’t academic

Chapter 21

Someone’s watching herrrr

V is in Portland with Elliott…? But she’s alone...she wants Nora to come get her

Red flag

She gets hustled by a homeless woman for her coat

She left her phone in the coat

She witnesses a shooting...of the bag lady...who was wearing her coat and hat!!!!!!!!!!

She calls patch and he comes to get her

V went home with the boys

“The water was smooth black poison” wut

The Jeep dies on the highway and a storm rolls in

Chapter 22

They get a room to wait out the storm because the lights and phones are down

She still is like wary of him but she doesn’t really have a choice at this point, fair.

Also, favorite trope: there’s only one bed

Her clothes are wet so she makes him blow out the candles so he can’t see her in her underwear….

She touches his scar and gets sucked into blackness?!?!

Chapter 23

There are 8 chapters left and I have a BAD feeling that we’re in sequel bait territory

She’s in like a flashback from 8 months ago

Miss green meets patch at bo’s, he calls her Daubria

“Your kind and my kind don’t mix” she’s an angel and he’s a fallen one, I just know it “it’s not easy getting down here”

“If you save a human life, you can get your wings back”

“Now tell me why you’re really here”

Something about the book of Enoch and him wanting to recreate it

He wants a name from her list since she’s a death angel

Daubria says Nora’s name and patch asks who wants to kill her and Daubria says, “you”

So…..if he stops himself….he can get his wings?

She comes back and patch pins her to the bed, pissed

So she has just found out that he wants to kill her, he has her pinned to the bed, and she asks “is Daubria your girlfriend???” Why do you literally care and why do you not have any self-preservation skills

He kisses her?!?!

She bites the shit out of his lip

He did try to kill her on the archangel but couldn’t do it, he was gonna stab her in her house, couldn’t do it

She’s passing out because she needs her iron pills

He calms her down

He lets her touch his scars again so she’ll trust him

Chapter 24

She wakes up next to a skeleton in a graveyard

The Irish guy is talking to patch there

Patch wants to become human, as he heard in the book of Enoch

She comes back

Patch feels through a “sheet of glass” unless he possess a body

Patch is the angel from the prologue I think

“If you can’t feel, why did you kiss me?” “Because I can feel it in my heart”

He fell because he lusted after a human girl

He didn’t know Daubria was still on earth…

She now thinks Daubria is the ski mask person

Chapter 25

Patch goes to get the car and leaves Nora there

They get her home and patch checks the house for her

V doesn’t answer her phone

Daubria is there!!

She says she isn’t the one who has been spying

She planted the idea in V’s mind that patch attacked her

Her birthmark means she’s Chauncey’s descendant, and the book says if patch killed his vassal’s descendant he can be human (according to Daubria)

She goes to kill Nora so she’ll be out of the way

Daubria is v hurt by him falling and “falling” for the human girl

Daubria goes full angel, using tk, glowing, trying to stop Nora

Daubria sets the house on fire

Patch comes back and tells her to drive his Jeep to Delphic

She starts to search for V in the meantime

Chapter 26

She goes to the movies and gets a ticket for the sacrifice, remarking on the irony of the title

V isn’t at the movies

But patch is?!?!

“Shut up or I’ll get security” “yeah, get security, this guy wants to kill me” “I want to kill you”

“I’ll tell you what I’ve done: I’m not good, but I was worse”

He’s now saying she’s worth falling for basically

“I don’t kill people who are important to me, and you top the list”

Patch ripped daubria’s wings off

“Let’s be honest, you got it bad for me, and I’ve got it bad for you.”

“You don’t need me to help you fight her.” “What do I need you for?” “We have unfinished business”

They making OUT in this theater bathroom

Her phone rings, V and the guys broke into school, and Elliott says “Nora come play or there’s a tree in the courtyard with V’s name on it”

Listen. To. Me. If these two plots have nothing to do with each other, I am going to rip my hair out. These could have been 2 different books.

Chapter 27

She tells patch about the article

Patch says he doesn’t remember Jules being at the arcade…

Jules is an angel I bet

The jeeps tires are slashed so they pay an employee to take his car

He tells Nora to stay in the car

Chapter 28

Elliott calls Nora and says he’s watching her

Nora GETS OUT OF THE CAAAAAAR

AND GOES INTO THE SCHOOL NORA HE TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING GET OUT

Nora tripped over Jules’ dead body…

Elliott is in the library, basically dead…

The lights keep going on and off…

The ski mask person is here!!!!!!!

IT IS JULES?!?!

He’s an angel!!!! Called it, He’s been fucking with her mind

He throws her in the bio room, and she sees a scalpel on the ground and grabs it

Jules was Elliott’s benefactor and made him choose between love and money…

Jules really wanted patch, but patch can’t be hurt...so he’s using Nora to get to him

Jules is patch’s vassal!!!!! So he’s fucking PISSED

HE IS CHAUNCEY!!!!!!

The guardian presence she felt wasn’t her dad, it was Jules

She stabs him, but bumps a table as she tries to escape…

He passes out

Chapter 29

She finds V in the e-zine lab

All the doors are chained…

She ends up trapped in the gym

Jules has a gun!!!!

He beat up Marcy because he didn’t want anyone messing with “his girl”

Patch finds them, Jules holds her at gun point, patch possesses Nora to beat the SHIT out of Jules

He couldn’t stay long enough to kill Jules, and the effort made him pass out

She climbs up the air shaft despite being afraid of heights and Jules is fucking with her, making her think she’s falling

Patch helps her anchor to reality

They’re both on the rafters

She realizes if she sacrifices herself, patch can be human

She throws herself off the rafter

Chapter 30

She hears a clock and wings, but then she slides backwards instead

She wakes up in her bedroom, with patch

Patch turned down her sacrifice so she could live

“What good is a body if I can’t have you?”

He’s a guardian angel because he saved her

V and Elliott are fine

The police think Jules killed himself

V says “shoe-shopping therapy” instead of retail therapy why

The book ends with patch coming back to give her a kiss...boring

There’s an exchange that’s the last sentence of the book where he pulls away and she’s like “more” “more?” “more”

#reading #book review #cringe books #booktube #hush hush #becca fitzpatrick #patch cipriano #nora grey #negative review

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jaqfms · 4 years

Text

there's jacques ‘jaq’ daingerfield ! though on their socials they go by @thedangerousq . i heard he is originally from paris , france , but made the big move to los angeles to join TWENTIES . you haven't heard about it ? well , apparently their dream is to design his own video game , but they have no chance unless they quit being so cocky & lazy . that said , those behind the scenes have said they can be witty & charismatic too. guess we'll have to watch and find out ! �� & laughing until you cry , a cartoon theme song paired with a hip hop beat , a juul behind your ear , vines quoted in a thick french accent . ( timothee chalamet , cis male , he/him ) ( pepper , she/her + they/them , est , twenty four )

ABOUT THE MUN. are ya in a relationship? you think i can convince someone to do that?

hello, it’s me again. i tired myself out with haisley’s so jaq’s if going to be considerably shorter. let’s go.

BIO. aaaahhhhhhhhhh shhiiittttt *begins understanding things*

jacques daingerfield was born in france to two very average parents. like his mother was a teacher and his father was a financial analyst. nothing wild or crazy going on there, and to top it off he was the middle child, and well, you can tell.

he has four siblings. he was the third kid, and well, he spent most of his childhood fighting for any kind of attention, usually by making inappropriate little jokes or you know, fart noises. yes his parents were generally exasperated with him, but that behavior made sure they paid attention to him. and honestly that was all jacques wanted.

again, jacques had a pretty average upbringing. he went to school, he was actually pretty popular among his peers despite being so annoying (definitely very unpopular amongst his teachers for generally that class clown that sat in the back and always interrupted), and he excelled academically without really trying too much. well, in every subject but english funnily enough. jaq always struggled in english, which is why it was incredibly ironic that when his parents separated they decided to move to uk with his father. jacques was ten at the time, and he still doesn’t understand the decision.

so yes, jacques was the kid in class with the weird name and weirder accent who could barely communicate with his classmates. it didn’t take long for them to stop really trying to pronounce ‘jacques’ properly. jacques became jack without much input on his part, and by the time jacques had got enough of a handle on the english language to correct them the americanized name had already stuck. even at nine jacques was smart enough to know that insisting on the correct french pronunciation of his name just kind of made him sound like a pretentious french asshole, so instead he spun it. he embraced it. started signing all of his papers and assignments with ‘jaq’ with a q like it was his brand or something. even as a child jaq will give himself credit for being clever af.

it actually worked pretty well honestly. the older jaq got the more he grew into himself, and the more comfortable he got with the english language. honestly a lot of how jaq learned english was through video games and youtube videos and cartoons, like those were some of his go to resources. spent a lot of time playing games with strangers and tested his english out with colourful trash talk. actually started his first ever youtube channel was basically that as just a way to practice his english a bit. all he did on there was play video games, and honesty he didn’t even show his face. the channel wasn’t that popular, but he had fun making it.

jaq on the other hand had gained popularity by the time he was in middle school. granted, that popularity was mostly due to the fact that he had a popular older brother and sister, was french and therefore ‘cute’ (jaq didn’t pretend to understand how girls brains worked then, and he still doesn’t now) and his family always had the newest gaming system at their household, and even then it wasn’t wild popularity. but it was enough that barely anyone teased him for his thick french accent anymore, and yk what jaq would take it. he weirdly got even more popular with the guys in his grade when they found out about his youtube channel. they found it funny, and they would generally watch his videos and come tell him about their favourite parts later, ask him about how he got past a certain level or learned a certain cheat. jaq soaked up their admiration like a sponge, right into his ego. they were the beginning of jaq getting the big head he proudly sports today.

that said for most second form jaq’s youtube channel was just a hobby. something he did for fun. like i said earlier, jaq actually did really well in school and his parents always expected him to follow in his father’s footsteps and go into something in business. after all, it would be an easy transition with both french and english under his belt. they knew he would excel.

but then he met madi. and somehow the two started doing videos together for fun, and it quickly expanded into something a lot bigger. something that jaq wouldn’t have even dreamed of doing before. suddenly the picture perfect future he had planned for himself just seemed boring in comparison to what he and madi had going on, and so jaq easily picked that instead. his parents weren’t all that happy about it, of course, after all jaq had full scholarships to some schools just waiting for him to accept and he ignored all of them in favour of making videos of him playing games online. they still don’t understand, but jaq doesn’t really need them too. he’s happy with what he’s doing and he figures he can always go into business when he’s old and boring.

he moved out of his parents house straight into an apartment with madi when things between them started getting really tough. they can’t really speak without the whole ‘we’re so disappointed in you’ conversation coming up so jaq doesn’t really speak to them unless he has to. both of his older siblings went into business like their parents wanted, and his younger siblings are on the same path. his little sister wants to be just like him though, and that warms his heart tbh.

has come to TWENTIES to have a good time! wants to break into the acting industry like dylan o’brien and maybe show his parents that a ‘real’ career can come from something like this. his parents begged him not to come on this show and embarrass them so that is definitely what he’s about to do.

HEADCANNONS. there are a lot of people who need to shut up. not me though

thinks he’s funny! sometimes he is

will answer to jacques, jaq, jaqi, or q! you can call him daingerfield if you want but not many people do

fun fact, made his instagram handle as a joke, much like awkwafina. was just supposed to a little dig about how many times he has to say ‘jack with a q’ whenever someone spells his name. but now the dangerous q is his brand, and just finds it really dumb and funny.

a bit of a kleptomaniac. will swipe something he thinks is cool mostly just to do it. has very little impulse control. loves to pull pranks and generally make trouble, but not in a way that will ever actually hurt anybody because he’s not a whole idiot. not the biggest fan of cops.

is an artist. will spray paint your walls and probably has spray painted the walls of his apartment. will doodle weird things all over napkins or receipts or whatever he can get his hands on. has drawn out little video game characters he wants to be in his future games, and actually is considering going to school for a video game programming degree just for that. the funny thing is with his grades he could probably do it. is teaching himself coding in the mean time.

the type of person to start drumming on the counter or desk with his hands or like pencils or pens when he’s bored. will make up fun little raps on the spot.

incredibly intelligent but doesn’t like to talk about it. would much rather act dumb than act like he has any braincells. he doesn’t want to give anyone expectations.

all the youtube success has definitely gone to his head in the way that?? he just thinks they’re untouchable like he cannot compute the concept of their channel failing or their future endeavors failing. definitely thinks that TWENTIES will lead to much bigger things for them. will walk into his future acting auditions like he’s the shit.

an introvert with extrovert tendencies. needs to be by himself to chill out and recharge but can like work a room honestly. can make friends pretty much everywhere he goes. a bit of a charmer when he wants to be.

a smoker unfortunately. also a bit of a stoner. definitely has a juul on him at all times, like i said he tends to keep it behind his ear and then be like ???? where’s my juul.

needs glasses but refuses to wear them. is very stubborn about it tbh. does not want to get contacts because he hates the idea of putting something into his eye. so you can catch him squinting sometimes like a fool.

one of the first things he treated himself to with his first big youtube check like outside of rent was a tattoo! it’s on his ribs and it’s just a drawing he did himself but he loves it and it was the start of an addiction. he has about five. also has a few helix and orbital piercings on his left ear.

another muse of mine with a tiktok, but jaq just uses his to make music for the most part. will turn the mickey mouse club house theme song into bars! (if you’ve seen that tiktok,,,, ily)

a big nerd. reads comic books. watches anime. will get very reasonably upset about the avatar the last airbender movie whenever it’s brought up.

can cook really well, but whenever he does it it’s pure chaos. like julian/brad leone in the kitchen for sure. but the food comes out tasting really good, so???

is jewish af. knows a bit of hebrew and a bit of yiddish because of his grandparents mostly. is kind of ??? a lot more lenient with things now that he’s not around his parents as often i’m ngl.

brings his ds everywhere and you can literally catch him on the bus vaping and playing animal crossing because he hasn’t bothered to get a american license yet

is always willing to take a picture with a subscribers and they’re always the weirdest thing. there are pictures of subscribers like pretending to stab him in the eye. prom pose pictures with subscribers. the weirder the better tbh

has gone to vidcon a few years in a row, always has the wildest time. there is video footage of him waking up in some strangers bathtub with a feather boa around his neck. it’s probably on instagram.

is also bi af.

WANTED CONNECTIONS. very proud to announce that i am officially a lost cause!

BEST FRIENDS.

A BROMANCE.

FWB/EWB.

EXES.

FANS OF HIS YOUTUBE VIDEOS.

and here’s his wanted tag, i forgot to do the same for haisley so here is her wanted tag.

and many more, y’all this took so long and i’m so tired but like this and i will slide into your dms for plots!

#twenties:intro #i have completely exhausted myself omg #rip #( intro. )#any typos in this can stay idec anymore

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archtroop · 5 years

Note

So for you. What other fandoms are you in? When, how and why wincest?😁😍😎

Oh my, gird your loins, this is gonna be a long confession.

LIFE:

I little background (This is all very relevant, because it had direct affect on whatever choices I would make, stuff I might like and my own personal evolution as a human, leading me to where I am today - including my on-the-side fandom life, which are a huge part of me).

Female, only child - I was born in 1990 in Soviet Russia/Russia (it’s a murky year for definitions) in the farthest eastern piece of land on the globe that still constitutes as Asia, a place where they learn Japanese as a second language instead of English. I’m Jewish on my mother’s side, my father is not. Our small family migrated to Israel in 1996. I was enrolled in a religious school, for the first two years of my education. Religious orthodox little girls are bitches. I suffered. I was 6, and a 100% language barrier. Then I was enrolled in a state-religious school for 4 years. Made my first 2-3 friends. One of them is my forever best like-a-sister-to-me friend since then. Still, it screwed with my head just enough - having a secular background and family and religious preaching at school fucks you up real good. By this time I had an actual artificially ensued phobia of males. Boy, man, horse. If it had a dick I was opting out in the opposite direction. It was also a very violent time, hits and punches, teeth and nails. Got suspended once, this other girl in my class broke a guy’s teeth, ended in a juvenile institute for girls.

The next 6 years (12-18 years old) I spent in a secular boarding school, which, in Israel, are inherently patriotic in nature. These years were my most definitive and had the greatest influence on my preferences. Had my real-life heterosexual-life partner thing going for me, and the plan wast to graduate and move together. Never panned out. 18-20 - served my two mandatory 2 years (as a phlebotomist, of all things). This was when I eventually snapped and began actually maturing. By that time I still had zero interest i the opposite sex (or the same sex for the matter). At 19.6 y/o met my future husband and the future father of our now 2.6 y/o girl, began my B.Arch (took me almost a decade to finish because of pregnancy and financials). As of now, I am an Architect in practice, I work in a small but a very affluent in work firm/office. Waiting for my diploma to be issued.

So, I am trilingual (Russian. Hebrew, English), married+1, architect, artist on a hiatus, I have zero fear of needles and blood, love to read, love to interpret, love to translate. I also failed the Kinsey Scale Test twice. Until very recently in my life I couldn’t pick up on sexual innuendo at all, couldn’t identify if I was hit on, too. Today I like sex just fine, but it’s not a prime need of mine, which lead to me and my (very sexual in nature) significant other to agree on an open relationship. 100/100 would recommend.

FANDOM:

TV was a friend. I was 7-8 y/o when Pokemon hit the little screen in Israel. For technical reasons, I couldn’t watch the first episode. So I refused to watch the next ones too, until I’ll catch the first one on the saturday reruns. This marks my first exhibit of obsessiveness towards a franchise/media. But Pokemon was for cool kids, and for boys, so I can’t enjoy it (unfortunately this is going to be a recurring theme). I absorbed Hebrew quickly, and found myself spending time in the library. TV, library, pencils and paper were all I cared for. I was about 10 when girls at school, who had access (early 2000′) were giggling about something called Sailor Moon. But they were the very cool kids. Can’t have that at all. I read Interview With a Vampire when I was 11-12. I then flipped the book and realized there was apparently a movie, too. It will be years until I’ll have the chance to watch it. I switched from teen books to adults fantasy and horror at that time. I remembering giggling through R.L. Stein’s stuff. It was like candy to me. I would read whatever I could find. I didn’t listen to music. Music is for the cool kids, and I am not allowed. There was no music at home, too.

About that time, I found Flowers In The Attic and drank it up. The things that lurk in school libraries. I was engrossed in the darkness, the horror. The pain and angst and the, well, horror. It was beautiful. Then came Dragon Lance, and I fell for the Caramon & Raistlin story. Fantasy, dragons, and two brothers against ll odds, the warrior and the mage, who are forever bound, and when they die, they join each other in the river of souls. I loved it to bits. I couldn’t survive through Tolkien. loved The Hobbit, but 30 pages into the third book and he was still describing a forest - so I ditched it. Harry Potter was huge to me, I drank it up. But Harry Potter was for cool kids, so I couldn’t really talk about it. And then when I was 13-14 y/o a friend introduced me to manga. It was 2003-04, the Internet was becoming prominent feature of life. My first manga was Gravitation. Of all things. But manga and anime is for really cool girls, I can’t have that. But now I had Internet access.

That’s when I encountered Angel Sanctuary, and Kaori Yuki’s work. Gothic Lolita, Visual Kei. I’v found my niche. No one of the cool kids had any idea about those pretty things, I could hold them and have them for myself. It became one of my greatest inspirations. I read tons of manga online, combing the web for scanlation groups. Anime, too. I became very good at finding stuff. Like, real good. I even have two Angel Sanctuary fanart pieces.

Did you notice a theme already? I haven’t until very recently.

In 2005-6 (I can’t recall for sure) Israeli AXN release a promo of Supernatural. I recognized that “very good actor whose character(s) I really liked from Dark Angel”. It as all true but also I was THAT aloof about physical human beauty and attraction. But I was interrupted watching the Pilot and begrudgingly decided to follow upon it on a saturday rerun, Guess what, I got interrupted again. And it was ON, TV be damned. I hit the Google, and piracy was it. I watched Supernatural with reverence. It was entirely MINE. I opened an account on fan-wikia Supernatural site, which I lost and forgot about that was my first ever fandom-related interaction. By that time I also had a DeviantART page, which I kinda left as a storage unit as life took its course. Basically, in August 2020 I will hit 30, which would mean Supernatural officially was by my side half of my life.

I had no idea what shipping was, though. Until Teen Wolf, funny enough. Teen Wolf was my first ship experience. I didn’t read fanfic until then. Sterek somehow managed to pull me in that world. It’s that palpable on screen. So I joined tumblr. It took me time to get accustomed to all this, because even fandom is for cool kids but OH I AM ANONYMOUS.

And I gradually became more aware. Of pretty much everything. With Supernatural keeping me alive through my degree studies, prompting my sexuality to emerge (it is still a fucked up sexuality. But it’s a start.). Worked through issues with Supernatural on my back-burner all the time.

Then Supernatural hit 10 seasons. And I had to celebrate, and it was my first and only (so far) Supernatural fanart. I began reading fanfic. But so much of it wasn’t what I was looking for. So after some contemplation, I decided to try and write my own (EasyRush). And that was it for me, I essentially drowned in it, the wincest. Now that is had a name. As of today, it has become this thing that I can dig into to find me some solace after a hard day.

I can’t even say that there was a specific scene. Or a why. It’s just IS. Like the John-finds-out fics: A gradual dawning realization. Looking back, it’s all the elements of whatever I consumed merged and acted out by very talented and compelling actors.

It has the setting of Flowers In The Attic, the mythology of Angel Sanctuary and the charm of Dragon Lance, turned up to eleven. It’s Gothic Urban Fantasy, gritty and beautiful (I miss classic Supernatural aesthetic BADLY) and is a survivor.

On retrospect I begin to pinpoint moments that have subconsciously lead me to it. There was never any other option.

Wincest is never for the cool kids. It’s for people like me.

P.S.: I think there might be a part two. I need to go. This was a great walk down memory lane, it’s not even half of it.

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dayna-scully · 5 years

Text

ncis/tiva liveblog...the dregs

11x01

the real whiskey tango foxtrot is the writing on this show

at the moment, you

😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖

want some company?

yes :-)

murder me???????

“this is good”

that fake typing though

you’ll always be an agent in her heart

is mcgee Abby’s Shannon

after what happened to secnav, how can I stay?

oh gut punch

clonk

I mean, someone’s gonna get a souvenir from Tony’s trip to Israel

a living, breathing, tiny human souvenir…

maybe it’s not the brightest idea, but we’re not coworkers anymore, so

Anthony!!!!!!

he was so happy

I’ll travel for good hummus

I didn’t know that “hummus” was, uh, some kind of new…slang

but all of their stuff is still there?

mid century mob hit

where’s ziva?

thank you dick

he reminds me of the terrible sweets clone bones got after sweets died

which was a terrible decision, btw

who would she trust

TONY

SHE WOULD TRUST TONY

oh tony

11x02

don’t worry tony, we will be okay

can you put the hammer down please

perhaps the him is you

baby ziva hadn’t yet been weaponized by the men in her life

gibbs absolutely knows who Captain Kirk is

why should she have the man that she loves

wow that’s really dark

and cruel

he looks good with some hair on his face

Tim does not

I can’t believe they’ve kept that goatee on him for multiple seasons

tony should have stayed in Israel

baby!!!!

“I meant to do that this morning”

HE DIDNT FORGET HE WAS JUST TOO BUSY GETTING BUSY

confession: I don’t think I’ve ever actually watched this episode

I didn’t watch s11 because at that point we (obvs) knew cote wasn’t staying

yeah dinozzo can sure feel somethin

maybe you could try saying what you’re saying

he already found her, dad

you know how hard that was

you did not have to do any of this

except???? He did????

her “old life” man fuck these writers

finally I found you here, of course

FUCK THESE WRITERS

the center of all this pain is me

I’ll kill whoever wrote that

I hate these people!!!!

this is what Eli made of her

bad adr

tony should have stayed

it’s a start

you don’t have to do this alone

ziva was a fantastic investigator, regardless of what she did for Mossad

she loved being an investigator

this doesn’t make sense

just come home

I remember after truth and consequences came out I sat down with a notebook and my iPod and whittled down a tiva playlist

it was a very intense project

I just want you to come home with me

oh tony

I can change with you

he should have just…stayed

that’s a very bad fake black eye

did he clip Tobias’ ass

you shot me in the ass!

I’m the one got shot in the ass for it

they done did it

I want to make him proud

😖😖😖😖😖 her daddy

alone

that’s horseshit

horseshit!

tony you are so…loved

I wanna be done with this

this hurts more than I remember

I am more angry about all this than I remember

then came tali

pick up the phone!!!

hey ziver

13x24

who made these terrible styling choices

why does tony look like an old man

I bet it’s the same person who thinks that goatee McGee has now was a good idea

I can’t stay here

surely she would have told gibbs

right??

he wouldn’t have told tony

maybe she wouldn’t have told him tony was the father

oh tony

ah, dinozzo

oh are you just fucking figuring that out now gibbs??????

ten years later??????

really???

I hate these writers

I need to know what happened

I’ll breathe when Trent kort is dead

are these writers fucking serious

his ziver???????

fuck

stop with the monologue

something about you running off with her father

friends don’t let friends get hit by mortar fire

you’re Mossad you know everything

like, this whole ass house was leveled to nothing but tali’s room just…survived intact

how convenient!!!!! Almost like ziva had planned this!!!!

tali girl

tali is ziva’s daughter

and your daughter, tony

what a clusterfuck

no doubts

that was not her decision to make

it wasn’t

it was, for once, in character

but it was a shitty decision nonetheless

she knew you wouldn’t be pleased/then she never knew me at all

we cannot lose sight of Anthony

daddy tony

tali’s aba

your mom always packed a go bag

because she was always one step ahead

and she would have been ahead of this

you’re a single dad now, tony

were you and ziva an item the whole time

because lbr of all of them, McGee would absolutely be the last one to figure it out

and he wouldn’t even figure it out, Abby would tell him

I loved her, Tim

ima and aba

ziva must have told her

tony must have always had that with him

I think I’ve decided against watching 16x13

I know the gist of what happens, I’ve seen the screenshots

I don’t read Hebrew, so the fantranslations are all I really need anyways

I don’t really want to watch them write gibbs badly again

how did he get his eyeball back

selective morality

she was my family

I’ve never been anybody’s everything before

abby knew

abby 100% knew

aaand I’m done

I don’t even really know how to summarize all of this. I don’t understand the thought that will-they-won’t-they is somehow more exciting and fulfilling than consummation of slowburn. Shows keep doing it over and over again, and sometimes they get it right at the last minute (see: josh and Donna, tww) but most of the time they get it wrong. Like at least with something like Olivia and Elliot (svu) there was a reason that they couldn’t be together - he was married (though I think they could have and should have handled Chris leaving better than him just vanishing).

Bones kind of fumbled through it all - I don’t think that they would have put b/b together if Em hadn’t gotten pregnant. Maybe eventually, but I think they had and would have made the same mistakes the ncis writers did.

Clearly that could have been handled better, but like b/b being together was so good?? They were happy, there was still drama, but god it wasn’t a poorly written tease (well, actually, let’s not get into the quality of the writing on Bones)

Cote is such a fantastic actor, and as horrible as MW is, he is (was??) a really good match for her (was if only because bull kind of sucks and I’m not sure if it’s shitty writing or him sucking or him not wanting to be there??). There was so much emotion and intensity in all of their scenes, romantic or not, it’s absolutely astounding. I really appreciate them for all the effort that they put into tiva, because they were really the heart of it.

How often do you have couples that are written but not acted? Couples with absolutely no on-screen chemistry, and actors who can’t or won’t put the effort in to make it work. And they had that! They could have done so much with it. But the writers failed. Over and over again, they failed to deliver consistent characterization and complex plots beyond the same old.

Tony was so much more than a frat boy.

Ziva was so much more than a weapon and a perpetual victim.

I was trying to find good fanfic while I was watching (I…didn’t find much), but there was one where the author decided that Ziva, who was alive, had only put the message out that tali was Tony’s because she knew it would get his attention, and that tali was just some random guy’s. And that really pisses me off. Ziva (the writers) made some really poor choices in regards to Ziva’s impulse control, but that’s too far - Ziva wouldn’t intentionally hurt tony, and that would be the worst thing she could do.

Ugh. I’m tired.

basically how I feel about the series:

#ncis #tiva #liveblog #show: ncis #ship: tiva

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hvndcvffed · 5 years

Text

s u r v e y : g r i z z v i s s e r .

he slides it into the submission box late, because he kept lending people his only pen. whoops.

basic information

FULL NAME: gareth paul visser PRONUNCIATION: GAH-reth VISS-er MEANING: gentle. REASONING: his parents named their son after the most important trait they wanted to nurture in him: kindness. his middle name is paul after his paternal grandfather. NICKNAME(S): gareth paul ( only his mother, when she’s angry ), grizz, grizzy, grizzly bear / grizzy bear ( parents ), kiddo ( his dad ) visser, bear ( blue ), jizz ( unwarranted, miles ), babe ( tess, retired ) PREFERRED NAME(S): grizz. don’t call him gareth, please. he’ll just... smile uncomfortably and act like it doesn’t bother him, but it really does. BIRTH DATE: july 26, 2000. 3:23am. during a rainstorm. AGE: 18. ZODIAC: leo. GENDER: cismale. PRONOUNS: he/him. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: demiromantic ( sexual attraction stems from emotional connection. ) SEXUAL ORIENTATION: homosexual ( closeted ) NATIONALITY: american. ETHNICITY: american very far back. dutch and polish ancestry.

background

BIRTH PLACE: west ham, connecticut. HOMETOWN: west ham, connecticut. SOCIAL CLASS: upper. FATHER: keith visser. one of the lead police detectives on west ham’s police force. 48. jewish. avid outdoorsman, and can often be found hiking, kayaking, or rock climbing on the weekends. has a habit of cleaning off lisa & grizz’s plates, if they leave behind some peas or mashed potatoes. snacks on leftovers for breakfast, but can make a mean frittata. the secret’s all in making sure you’ve got a super hot pan. cautious, mindful. grizz gets a lot of his serene disposition from his father. unaware of his son’s sexuality; still thinks he’ll wind up marrying tess, or maybe hannah, or even cassandra. gets a kick out of becca when she comes around the house, because she’s so little. calls her shortstack, but only when pancakes are around to make the pun stick. MOTHER: lisa “lees” visser. 46. editor-in-chief for the west ham chronicle. freelance landscaper / gardener on the weekends, for fulfillment more than the money. religious, catholic born-and-raised, but she now attends the unitarian church in town. the switch happened once she married keith and they reasoned they wanted their child to have a composite world-view, one they could interpret and internalize free from categorical restraint. very in touch with her emotions; likes facilitating family discussions. made the executive decision to pull grizz out of dance classes after one year of lessons, because her 4-year-old son donned a sparkly feather boa and she didn’t like what she saw. primarily motivated by maternal and protective instinct. wants what’s best for her son: safety. supported grizz’s relationship with tess through and through. mentions her from time to time, because she’s still unclear as to why they called it off. she wants grizz to be happy. tess made him happy. SIBLING(S): none. his parents never told him, but they lost a child in infancy about 2 years before they had him, and suffered a miscarriage when they tried for another child when he was 5. his parents don’t talk about it, and they see their lives as very full with just grizz. they considered adopting when he was around 8, but ultimately decided against it. one child fills their hearts plenty. they’ve practically adopted all his friends ( especially blue, becca, hannah, and tess ) as part of the family anyway. BIRTH ORDER: only child. PET(S): grew up with a tabby cat, doobie, who lived to be 14. as a kid, he always dreamed about having a pet kimodo dragon. gets a real kick out of chinchillas, but the visser family’s rarely home: they’re always out and about, going on hikes, exploring connecticut and the northeast. they travel often. so it wouldn’t be fair, having to leave any pet at home alone. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: his uncle james lives on the edge of town and works under peyton pellegrino’s dad in the fire department, so the families are close. they get together each year for christmas eve. his younger cousins live down by the sea in mystic, kipp ( age 4 ) & rebekah ( age 7 ). they facetime often, and the family makes annual trips to mystic seaport. they pile onto grizz’s back and have a blast running around the docks. PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: tess de luca ( freshman year - end of junior year ). ARRESTS?: none. but he does make frequent trips to the station to drop food off for his dad and his buds. PRISON TIME?: not unless you count the one time his dad played an april fools’ joke on him and placed him in a jail cell for 10 minutes for, “ bringing the wrong flavor cookies. the biggest crime of ‘em all, kiddo. ”

occupation & income

SOURCE OF INCOME: he works as a summer camp counselor at an adventure camp during school intersession, leading hikes & nature trips. during the school year, he’s too tied up with football to hold a job. he’s grateful that his parents are willing to help him out for major expenses, but he’s definitely the saving type, so most things he can cover on his own. he helps his neighbors out with taking care of pets & gardens as needed, so that’s a way to earn some fast cash. even though he always insists he can’t take their money. CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: yes! granted, working with phone-addicted kids in the wilderness can be difficult, but he’s thankful to get the breather from west ham. PAST JOB(S): he used to deliver papers on his bike, when he was younger, since his mom had the connection. SPENDING HABITS: frugal. more likely to spend on experience than material. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: his dad’s collection of original-release vinyls by the beatles.

skills & abilities

TALENTS: writing, but he won’t admit it. football. wood-whittling. gardening. whistling. navigation. knot-tying. making sumptuous drip coffee. SHORTCOMINGS: sells himself short, a lot. his sexuality. can be impatient at times, when other people are slower to pick things up. will often take over getting something done ( i.e. a group project ) if he feels people aren’t doing it the most effective way. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, french. a tad of latin. he wants to learn more hebrew, especially since he’s from a blended household, but that shit’s difficult and he never had time to enroll in hebrew school full-time as a kid. DRIVE?: yes. he has his own car, for ease of getting to/from games, etc. but prefers to ride his bike around town. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yes. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes. his dad taught him how when they had to call aaa on their way home from hiking the adirondacks, a trip they gave him for his twelfth birthday. RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes. he goes everywhere on that thing. need a ride? hop on. SWIM?: yes. the visser household has a very nice in-ground pool, heated. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: not really. grizz appreciates music and loves listening to it, but never really learned how to make it himself. unless you count a year or two of required band in elementary school, during which he ( very badly ) played the clarinet. PLAY CHESS?: yeah. he played a lot with his maternal grandfather growing up. big glasses of chocolate milk, classic rock, and chess. BRAID HAIR?: yes. it’s all very simple, once you learn how to tie all the scouting knots. TIE A TIE?: so many. thank you, boy scouts of america. PICK A LOCK?: he’s read up on it, but never actually done it. the closest he’s gotten is cutting his own padlock off his camping locker during his 7th grade boy scouting trip to maryland, when he conveniently forgot the combination.

physical appearance & characteristics

FACE CLAIM: jack mulhern. EYE COLOR: hazel, a murky blend of gold and forest green. depending on the lighting, they look different: in bright sunlight, they look like a faded jade green. sometimes, when the room’s darker, they look more gold. reference. HAIR COLOR: deep, russet brown. HAIR TYPE/STYLE: jaw-length, straight with some wave to it. typically worn down, tucked behind one ear, or up in a tiny little man-bun. reference one. reference two. reference three. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: he’s blessed with 20/20 vision! but he’ll still try on your glasses, if it’ll make you laugh. there’s a photo of him on the visser fridge wearing his mom’s readers and holding a tray of fresh-baked cookies. he looks like a friendly neighborhood grandma. DOMINANT HAND: left-handed. but he’s worked for years to become ambidextrous for most tasks. he can’t brush his teeth with his right hand, though. it feels funny. HEIGHT: 6′2. WEIGHT: 158 lbs. BUILD: broad-shouldered. lean waist. chiseled core, strong legs. he’s got an athlete’s build for sure – he’s perhaps not as heavy as other guys on that football field, but it takes some serious force to knock him down. tall. but he kind of hunches, just slightly, to not take up so much space. EXERCISE HABITS: varsity football team. lots of morning and night runs. crunches, push-ups, pull-ups: he’s got one of those bars in his doorway. weight-lifting with the team. yoga, sometimes. SKIN TONE: light, but he spends a lot of time outdoors. no freckles. TATTOOS: none. but would love to get a walden quote, or a simple pine tree. someday. PEIRCINGS: none. but maybe once he gets to college he’ll get his ear pierced. MARKS/SCARS: some miscellaneous scars on his hands from whittling incidents growing up. a faint line across his arm from stitches, when he broke it in the peewee football league in fifth grade. he has a barely-there scar just to the right of his left ear, along his hairline, from a camping incident. NOTABLE FEATURES: his hair. his eyes. people have drunkenly said he’s got kissable lips. USUAL EXPRESSION: inquisitive, collected. he’s always thinking. CLOTHING STYLE: letterman jacket. jeans. tall socks, boots. pants tucked into socks, because why the hell not? flannels, hoodies, utility jackets layered over plain white tees. pendant necklaces, leather bracelets. occasionally he’ll wear a statement button-downs that looks like your grandmother’s upholstery, but somehow it’ll work really well. varsity t-shirts. hats of all varieties. if he could, he’d showcase some edgier styles. but he’s paranoid. he’s got a stanford hoodie buried in his closet. and a yale one, too. JEWELRY: leather bracelets. a silver ring strung on a chain, engraved with “ for sylvie, with love ”. he found it on a hike, and… figured he’d be sylvie for a day, or something like that. ALLERGIES: sulfur-based antibiotics. bullshit. idiocy. BODY TEMPERATURE: runs hotter than most. probably the first to offer you his jacket or sweater, if you look cold. DIET: grizz’s mom loves to cook, so they’re always trying some new paleo trend. some of it’s awful. but he’ll try to eat it and if he can’t, he’ll sneak a granola bar later. he’s bad at pretending disgusting shit tastes good. his nose will wriggle up involuntarily and he’ll sniffle. if the school’s serving smiley face fries, he’ll have those. he really likes green apples and those little clementines. cajun fries are some of the best things ever invented. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: nope. he’s quite able-bodied and he’ll use it as a way to take the burden off of his parents. grizz knows how to do most things around the house: fix a faucet, replace bulbs, work on pipes, etc. because his parents are getting older and he doesn’t want them to hurt themselves doing something he’d barely even break a sweat at. he’s always volunteering to help out his neighbors with heavy packages, retrieving their mail, tending their gardens, etc. it’s no hassle. so why not?

psychology

MORAL ALIGNMENT: neutral good. he’s all for what’s morally right. sometimes laws and rules leave that out. TEMPERAMENT: melancholic. ( analytical, wise, peaceful. ) ELEMENT: water. MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: mild insomnia, sometimes. but he’ll usually just throw on some music and yield to it. guzzle a few redbulls the next day to keep alert for practice. SOCIABILITY: grizz is never the type to turn anyone away, but he does have a fear of compromising his one secret: so... if someone shows signs of seeing through him? he might distance himself a bit. but he’s often compared to glue that binds. he has a real capacity for leadership ( though he’ll never see himself that way ), and tends to be the driving force in maintaining healthy friendships and friend groups. he looks out for his friends. EMOTIONAL STABILITY: very stable. which is why when things go awry and he can’t rationalize his feelings, he gets... scared. vulnerable. PHOBIA(S): irrelevancy. being outed. loss. ADDICTION(S): good literature. DRUG USE: marijuana, but that’s it. ALCOHOL USE: what you’d expect from a popular jock. though he hesitates to think of himself as just a jock, because there’s so much more to his life than just football. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: no. grizz doesn’t believe in using violence to manipulate or express emotion. but he will punch someone if there’s no other way.

mannerisms

QUIRKS: rarely settles his gaze on anything for more than a few seconds, except for other peoples’ eyes. eye contact is probably one of grizz’s biggest conversational strengths. probably why he makes such a good liar, when he needs to. he’ll finish a pint of ice cream and just sit there for over an hour sucking on the spoon, lost in thought. licks his lips when he’s nervous. plays with his hair a lot. you know he’s anxious when he keeps tucking his hair behind his right ear. chuckles to himself, even when things are the pure opposite of funny. laughs quietly so the skies have to lean in to hear it. dog-ears pages of books; stencils in his thoughts. his bookshelf is a catalogue of interiority: so if he lets you borrow any of his well-loved copies ( becca, cassandra, tess ), you know you’ve got his trust. burns marshmallows, but it always seems like he’s waiting for the perfect brown before he lets the thing catch fire. sneaks peanut m&m’s into the house because his mom’s on another big health kick; he munches on them in the basement theater with his dad, mischief aplenty. stole HOBBIES: jotting notes in book margins. he dabbles in poetry but feels like his shit is too beat-generation to be that cool. wandering through the woods and attempting to generate his own maps, then checking them for accuracy. lighting matches in the cold, mid-evening air just to watch them burn. watching minimalist apartment tour videos. whispering poetry out loud to himself with his eyes closed, to feel the words shape his lips. HABITS: standing in front of the mirror and trying to let the word gay escape his lips without panic setting in. asking others how they are instead of answering when it’s asked of him. when he goes to bed later than his parents, he’ll peek in their doorway to make sure they’ve gotten into bed safe. setting up the french press before he leaves for his morning runs, so coffee’s ready for his parents when they wake up. bringing donuts to the station, just to make his dad’s coworkers laugh. getting drunk and tossing finger guns around like free candies. NERVOUS TICKS: pursing his lips. biting the inside of his cheek. rocking back and forth on his heels. avoiding eye contact. growing quieter than usual. choppy focus. leaving text messages unanswered for days on end. DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: make it to graduation and get out of west ham. live this lie a little longer. protect his friends. nurture his family. make sure his dad eats: he tends to forget, when he’s on duty. look after his teammates. keep everyone else grounded. FEARS: time. losing his family: too many people in this town have experienced that kind of loss for him to indulge in the illusion that he doesn’t run that risk. cassandra’s health might decline. when he comes out in college, people from home might hear. people might hate him. blue’s not really okay, and there’s nothing he can do about it. becca’s having a hard time, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. does he really think sam eliot could ever like him back? what if he made a mistake, breaking it off with tess? what if he doesn’t know himself as well as he used to? he’ll experience firsthand death someday. he’ll lose people, too. he’s so used to picking up everyone else’s pieces. how’s he supposed to do that if he’s the one bleeding? what if he can’t help people as much as they need him to? will his parents hate him for lying about yale? will they hate him for giving up on football to pursue literature & philosophy? fear. that one’s ironic. POSITIVE TRAITS: charismatic, introspective, pacific, quick-witted. NEGATIVE TRAITS: self-contained, reckless ( with himself ), careless ( with himself ). SENSE OF HUMOR: dry, witty. facetious, but never ill-intended. lots of eye rolls and light laughs. DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: ask his parents, they’ll say no. but hell yeah. CATCHPHRASE(S): uno. dos. tres. & a bonus: “ what the fuck ? ” & “ i’m surrounded by idiots. ”

favorites

ACTIVITY: reading. writing. gardening. football. ANIMAL: fish. they’re so graceful and they don’t bother anybody. BEVERAGE: half-oreo half-chocolate milkshake. extra whipped cream. two cherries. please. BOOK: le petit prince by antoine de saint-exupéry. it was the last book his grandmother ever read to him, on his fifth christmas eve. he can recite the first and last lines by heart, in english and french. CELEBRITY: young johnny depp. emma watson. COLOR: a nice, deep forest green. he also likes burnt reds and browns. DESIGNER: i mean... he knows his way around adobe creative cloud? FOOD: cajun curly fries. ugh. FLOWER: there’s something really beautiful about forget-me-nots. his grandmother used to pick a few of them with him in her backyard. she was big on those kinds of things. and all those silly sayings like: tickle tickle on the knee. if you laugh, you don’t love me! grizz always faught so hard not to laugh. his toddler self would puff out his cheeks and hold his breath until the twenty-second window was up. GEM: any kind of geode. HOLIDAY: halloween. boo. MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: biking! MOVIE: mr. nobody. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. the first time little grizz saw alice in wonderland, he wouldn’t shut up about it for two weeks MUSICAL ARTIST: the divine comedy, radiohead, pink floyd, the beatles, the rolling stones, the kooks. the avett brothers. belle & sebastian. he envies bowie, prince, and mercury for like... living their truths. QUOTE/SAYING: “ if you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need. ” SCENERY: mountain ranges. the view from the top of difficult climbs. snow-dusted treetops. SCENT: the connecticut homesick candle. it smells like cinnamon and nutmeg and vanilla and fireside bliss. and pine trees. yum. SPORT: football. SPORTS TEAM: “ centurions on me! centurions on three! ” TELEVISION SHOW: he grew up watching wallace and gromit. he’s still got a soft spot for it. he also really likes travel channel specials. WEATHER: gentle rain. VACATION DESTINATION: he doesn’t know this, but his parents were planning a month-long backpacking trip through new zealand as his grad gift.

attitudes

GREATEST DREAM: live his truth, fearlessly. get to yale and just... be himself. whatever that means. GREATEST FEAR: people in west ham will find him out. he’s not ready. MOST AT EASE WHEN: he’s with tess. the visser family has relaxed nights in, or firepits in their backyard. when he’s neck-deep in a good book. reading dickinson. listening to the beatles. on the field, where none of his demons can touch him. LEAST AT EASE WHEN: people ask difficult questions, questions he doesn’t have the answer to. you’re gay, aren’t you? BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: his boy scout eagle scout award. he constructed and taught faculty how to maintain a sustainable farm-to-table garden at each of west ham’s three elementary schools. BIGGEST REGRET: not getting to know his grandmother more before she passed. not... telling blue the truth. telling himself the truth. breaking up with tess. he had to free her. but it still stings. MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: he cried at endgame in theaters. jason hasn’t lived it down for weeks. BIGGEST SECRET: he’s gay. he thinks he’s gay. he’s... he’s not as self-assured as people think. not as strong. he committed to yale without telling a single soul, except cassandra. his parents still think he’ll be going to uconn or southern for hockey. TOP PRIORITIES: looking after his loved ones. making sure everyone’s okay. securing the centurions’ top season record. helping blue, somehow. how can he ease tess’s pain? get to graduation. get to graduation. leave west ham behind.

#ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ɪ ᴀᴍ ! ɪꜱᴍꜱ.#newhamhq: task

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