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cienie-isengardu · 3 years ago

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The Lin Kuei? As far as social dynamics and structure. You probably have a lot of these questions answered already, so you might just have to consolidate them... but what do think the Lin Kuei social structure is like?

I know there's the Grandmaster whose above everyone, and the Master Assassins (game characters we know about) and Sifu above everyone else, and rank is probably determined by skill less than birth. Sektor doesn't seem to get any special protection or treatment despite his family tree.

But what exactly is the hierarchy among the members? Who out ranks who? Both in teams, and as a group? What are the inter Lin Kuei relationships like, who feels what about who? What exactly is the qualifications? (Cyrax who I admittedly don't pay much attention to, for example confuses me, since he doesn't seem very impressive as a fighter?) How is rank maintained? I know they probably fight for it, but fighting constantly or to the point of death / serious injury seems counterproductive, even in mk? How is peace maintained? How is punishment dolled out, what constitutes punishment in a aggressively combative society like that, and in such a brutal environment, what is punishment?

If there's other things you think of to answer that I didn't ask, answer those too please. I love how much thought you put into these. Your the best. 🥰

"RELEASE THE RAMBLES!!!"

First off, sorry it took me so long to answer. Secondly, thank you very much for such a wonderful ask! Hope you will not regret once the rambles are set free, because there is a lot to talk about :D

The safest way to analyze Lin Kuei social structures would be to start with some basic question: what is a Lin Kuei? And the answer will be of course a clan, more precisely, a clan using assassins and thieves as its main source of income. But there is also another thing about Lin Kuei that will play an important role in creating and sustaining social structures - the strong independence streak and the pragmatism born from it.

Because the vital part of Lin Kuei is their loyalty to themselves. They work for those who can afford their service, but they aren’t bound to any earthrealm government or outworld ruler. I mean, Shang Tsung/Shao Kahn probably had a long-lived deal with Lin Kuei that benefited clan and in MK9 Lin Kuei offered the emperor their loyalty and service, but we also known that cyber Sektor refused to serve Quan Chi/Shinnok [MKX] once he decided the sorcerer had failed to fulfill his part of contract. Which means at the end of the day, the Lin Kuei benefit was the major goal to achieve. Even Kuai Liang’s reformed Lin Kuei shows this tendency - Sub-Zero will work with other Earthrealm Defenders but he isn’t blindly following anyone and is willing to go against fellow combatants (seen especially in banters with Raiden [MK11] where Sub-Zero questions god’s competence to protect the realm).

Interestingly, Shirai Ryu in the past did offer their service to various Japanese leaders / shoguns and who knows, even in modern days the clan still could have served the government as some special forces in time of need (and in return, have some protection and/or supplies from government?). In contrast, there is little to none information of Lin Kuei being loyal to one country - I mean, the sources usually call Lin Kuei warriors the “chinese ninjas” but we have never seen them showing any sign of national pride, haven’t we? Their only pride comes from belonging to Lin Kuei and their own skills. Another point against connection to any government is the fact that Lin Kuei are operating world-wide and collect people with special powers from over all world (Cyrax comes from Botswana [Southern Africa], Smoke/Tomas Vrbada from Prague [Czech Republic] and even Ice Bros were born in USA in old timeline). So, the fact that Lin Kuei warriors are diverse in terms of their powers and appearance/ethnicity will also affect the social structures.

So, the social structures on one hand must create a society that blindly follows Grandmaster’s will, on another be enough A) elastic to adapt a vast number of different people and B) solid to maintain the clan independence from others, Earthrealm and Outworld alike.

The problem with independence is that Lin Kuei works for the best price which also means constant danger. For warriors sent on missions to the safety of the whole clan. Without a clearly defined loyalty to anyone but themselves, Lin Kuei would be left on its own in case of enemy attack or any other potentially dangerous crisis. So the members of the clan must stick to each other because no one else would do that.

Regardless of type or date of source, the clan headquarters - one or many existing at the same time? - is usually presented as located in a naturally hard-to-reach, isolated place and with a clear defensive character, as can be seen below :

Lin Kuei for ages used naturally hard to invade / attack places like mountain peaks separated from the rest of the world by abyss with a bridge that can be easily destroyed and solid, thick walls to protect the clan. But here is a thing to think about - as much as there were a lot of strong, cunning and skilled warriors, Lin Kuei operated world-wide, taking jobs in various parts of Earthrealm and Outworld and some missions could take months if not years to finish and there was no guarantee that everyone would return. Which means the warriors couldn’t always be available in case of an enemy's attack or other serious crisis.

So, to maintain the defensive advantages, especially in a naturally harsh environment, there should be someone to control and if necessary take care of the state of walls, the bridge(s), residential buildings and so on. Which means Lin Kuei would need access to natural resources (wood, stone, metal) for expansion or repair but also for experienced craftsmen. There is also a matter of access to drinkable water and food supply, the most basic requirement for a clan to survive and thrive.

On one hand, warriors could fulfill such roles too, especially if we take into account a paragraph from Mortal Kombat novel by Jeff Rovin (1995):

They [Lin Kuei] would kidnap children when they were five or six and raise them in secret caves or woods to become superb athletes, great scholars, and unparalleled fighters, able to use all weapons and to improvise arms from common objects such as paper rolled to a knife-point or sand packed into a sock. They would train the children, boys and girls both, to be masters of many trades: carpenters, fishermen, priests, and even beggars, so they could blend in and make themselves useful in different towns as they traveled on missions for their lords.

Many young people died during training: some could not hold their breath for five minutes and drowned, others weren’t fast enough to avoid the weapons of the masters, some starved or froze or dehydrated when they were stranded, naked, in deserts or on mountaintops and told to make their way home. But those who survived were the Lin Kuei.

On the other hand, to become masters of the traders mentioned above, those children needed proper teachers. And yes, the already trained warriors could pass the knowledge to the younger generation but warriors first and foremost were responsible for earning money for the clan which is why personally teaching kids anything other than martial arts seems like wasting a time they could utilize in a better (more profitable) way.

This is why I suspect the social structures of Lin Kuei included various groups responsible for different needs of the clan.

The leader

So, we have a Grandmaster, the ruler. In modern times, pretenders for this title needed only to defeat and kill the current leader to take over the clan. Like Cyber Sektor and Kuai Liang did. But such practice may be just an exception to the long tradition, because Cyber Initiative was an extreme project that divided and ultimately destroyed the old version of clan. Killing the previous owner of the title may have some value (as in, eliminating any potential conflict of interest) but at the same time choosing and teaching a successor sounds much more practical. Because leading such a big clan is no easy feat thus any preparation would be useful and beneficial for the clan’s future. Not to mention the possibility of some secret knowledge that should be passed alongside.

Sadly, we don’t have much information about the inner politics of Lin Kuei. From the crumbs here and there, we know about Sub-Zero and past-Grandmasters that:

→ they could have offspring (example: Sektor).

However the sources don’t define if that was required from them in the form of a marriage or just as a way to secure the continuing inheritance of power (a tradition that Kuai Liang could simply ignore) or from their own choice or if the procreation of a child was unplanned and just happened. Whatever the truth was, in the case of Sektor, “it was never in question that he would join the Lin Kuei.”

The line from MK9 Sektor bio suggests that being a child of a warrior does not give immediate status as a member of the Lin Kuei. This in turn could suggest that not every child begotten by Lin Kuei warriors would be forced to join the clan. Sektor, as the son of the Grandmaster simply didn’t have a choice in the matter and who knows, maybe there is some premature qualification should the child be taken or not.

Another interesting part of Sektor’s BIO is this line: “Though this mission will put his clan in good standing with Shao Kahn, Sektor's ultimate goal is to supplant his father as Grand Master of the Lin Kuei." which may suggests that Sektor wasn’t the designated heir after all so plotted to overthrow his father?. I mean, he was sent to the Mortal Kombat Tournament as a participant and then cyborgized while the Grandmaster himself stayed human with a handful of other members of the clan. Then again, Sektor’s ending suggests that Grandmaster wasn’t surprised much by Sektor’s attempt to take over Lin Kuei, so maybe the killing of the previous leader was in fact a necessary part of rite of passage between old and new ruler?

→ it was against tradition for them to personally train new recruits

Stated in Deadly Alliance, in Frost’s Bio:

The winner was a mysterious female named Frost who seemed to have freezing abilities similar to those of Sub-Zero. Breaking with Lin Kuei tradition, the new Grand Master, Sub-Zero, took it upon himself to train this new recruit.

Interestingly, the Grandmaster was supposed to be the absolute ruler yet there were some traditions that actually regulated his or her participation in daily life of the clan. Kuai Liang simply ignored those and chose Frost as his apprentice, who at least in theory, became his appointed heir. By that logic, Sektor shouldn’t be trained by father, at least not before he gained the official status of Lin Kuei and proved himself worthy of Grandfather’s attention.

→ but it was their duty (choice?) to teach advanced arts to a few selected warriors.

This is mainly seen in Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series. The third episode (“Cold Reality”) gave us Shang Tsung’s explanation about clan and its warriors:

“The Lin Kuei, an ancient sect. Their training is the deepest secret as is their code. They are silent, swift and always lethal [...]. For some, a select few… the Lin Kuei Grand Masters will continue their education into darker areas. Then death comes in more interesting ways.”

Then, through this and another episode, the TV series shows that Grandmaster in fact personally oversees the training of Sub-Zero. So, the training of the new recruits may be against the tradition, but passing the advanced knowledge and the final trials seem to be not. Or at least the trials of the warrior with special (ancient) abilities.

This suggests the social status of a warrior - or any clan member - is affected by Grandmaster’s favor or lack thereof. Those chosen will advance, become more powerful and thus sent on more dangerous yet profitable missions. With a successful streak of missions, their notoriety will grow between prestige clients and the Lin Kuei community for good strengthening their social position. And who knows, one day they could take the place of (grand)masters in the inner circle serving closely the leader? On the other hand, those whose loyalty or skills get doubted by the Grandmaster are punished in several ways.

Inner Circle / Ancient (?) Masters

The same as with Grandmasters, there is little confirmed information about Lin Kuei masters. Bi-Han/elder Sub-Zero seemed to be favored by Grandmaster who called him the “our most cunning assassin and thief” (Mythologies: Sub-Zero) but it doesn’t sound like he was one of the inner circle.

In Mortal Kombat: Defenders of the Realm (episode 5, “Old Friends Never Die”), Kuai Liang mentioned “Ancient Masters” who decided to change warriors into cyborgs, while in the Mortal Kombat Conquest TV show we could see that Grandmaster keeps talking to some men about Sub-Zero’s training and powers. Interestingly, those men had uniforms looking more like his own than of any warrior.

(If Lin Kuei co-operated with Shang Tsung for ages, their life-span could be extended by sorcerer’s magic. Or, their own special abilities allow for such a long life. Thus the name of ancient masters?)

I think it is right to assume those masters formed an inner circle that advised the leader and helped in training the chosen warriors and most likely oversaw specific operations / aspects of the clan's life. Most likely with Grandmaster, they made the higher command and were the law.

Warriors

In the simplest way, this is the working class that earns money and builds the reputation of the clan. The warriors were the main source of incoming profit for the clan, but it wasn’t just material goods from assassinations and stealing but most likely also important intelligence data that Lin Kuei could use for its benefit or sell on. Thanks to them, Lin Kuei was also feared and respected in Earthrealm and Outworld alike.

So, on one hand, being a warrior in itself was a prestige rank that gave a chance to gain fame. The skilled and smart could advance into higher positions (the master assassins and thieves) and maybe even get Grandmaster’s attention. On another the life of a warrior was the most dangerous and hazardous occupation in the clan with little prospects for a long life. The victory was paid in warrior’s blood and pain while punishment for failure was severe and harsh.

The easiest way to classified them would be those two categories:

→ the common ones,

in games and comics looking alike, without distinctive features. It is hard to tell, if they possess any special abilities, if they were blood related to each other, what kind of missions they took.

→ the master assassins and thieves,

whose uniforms and weapons are modified to their personal taste and style of fighting and who have greater independence than warriors from the first category. I think it is right to assume that named warriors should be classified as such. So we have Sub-Zero/Bi-Han, Tundra/Kuai Liang, Smoke, Cyrax, Sektor, Frost, comics!Hydro.

Yet, this division may be in fact disastrous due to lack of enough sources. I mean, the lack of individuality does not necessarily imply a lack of appropriate abilities and for all we know, the “nameless” members just wear proper uniforms for their duties. Something that maybe even the named characters would wear if any source actually showed their downtime between missions. Frankly, the classic “ninja look” also makes everyone look alike, with only proper colors to distinguish between characters. Like the old comics version of Sub-Zero and Hydro - the main detail to tell them apart was the color of their eyes because both wore the typical Lin Kuei blue and dark uniform.

There is a lot to say about Lin Kuei warriors, so I will focus only on the aspects most vital to the subject and the role and effect it has on the Lin Kuei social structures.

→ armors, uniforms and their colors

Lin Kuei seems to have various uniforms, from those with plain (“classic”) look to very ornamented ones. Like I mentioned earlier, there may be an established type of clothes the warrior should wear on duty between missions while during the job the uniform was personalized due to the owner's skills and preferences. Some more advanced designs could be also a sign of personal achievements and were given / passed down (as family heirloom?) to said warriors.

The most noticeable thing however is the color. Since most clan members shared some kind of blood-ties (thus specific set of genes), the color may represent their connections to a specific branch of the clan. For example, blue was used by cryomancers and those warriors who had water-related powers. At the same time, blue seems like the most common color used by Lin Kuei. It makes sense for Kuai Liang’s warriors to use such tone, as to honor their leader and maybe even cut off from the dark past of the clan but frankly, Sub-Zero’s freezing power was called “ancient one” in Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series that alone was set ages before the last tenth Tournament happened, so maybe the ice/water always played a big role through the history and Lin Kuei simply adapted it for its common use? As to combine the reputation of the clan with the terrifying powers of cryomancers?

There is also grey color used by Smoke that fit well to his special power and yellow worn by Cyrax. Albeit if that has any connection to his unique genes or is just a color for a specific branch of clan or just esthetic, hard to tell.

Then we have a red color that most commonly is related to fire, something that Sektor frequently used at least in the new timeline. At the same time, various Grandmasters used red / reddish or burgundy colors (examples: [1] Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series, [2] Mythologies: Sub-Zero, [3] Sektor’s Ending in Mortal Kombat 9). So the red accents on Sektor’s uniform may in fact be a sign of his blood-ties to the leader (or leading family?).

Whatever true reasons lie behind the meaning of colors, Lin Kuei warriors seem to be segregated in certain smaller groups. Interestingly, even if Sektor’s red color in fact symbolised his connection to Grandmaster, this played little to none role in the MK9 game. Of course, the source did not show much inner dynamic between Bi-Han, Sektor and Cyrax but even with so limited space, Sub-Zero was the central figure in the group screen time which makes an impression he was in fact the leader. Then, the argument about the Cyber Initiative project happened only between Sektor and Cyrax, which could also imply Sub-Zero outranked them so they did not want to bring attention of their superior to their personal conflict. Especially since disobedience to Grandmaster was a serious crime.

→ codenames

Mortal Kombat X and 11 provided information that Shirai-Ruy does have some system of official ranks including the term Chujin that in general was a middle rank between ninjas (Takeda Takahashi is a known example). Lin Kuei has complex social structures but as far as we know, they do not use analogous to Japanese ninja system of ranks and yes, I know I categorized the named characters as the master assassins and thieves but frankly, I don’t remember other warriors to refer to them as such. The warriors just called each other by codename and various sources say the codename wasn’t something that permanently belonged to one individual. The name of “Sub-Zero” is the best example since it was used by many warriors through the course of a long period of time.

In both timelines, Bi-Han and Kuai Liang come from lineage of cryomancers serving Lin Kuei

and currently have ongoing conflict to whom the codename truly belongs. Because apparently, the name is passed to new generations once the younger cryomancer will prove their worth, most likely, by defeating the present champion. This does not mean that one must die because frankly, “retired” cryomancer still could teach adepts or serve the clan in a meaningful way. Also, which is very prominent with cryomancers, their mastery over ice grew stronger with passing years, so Bi-Han and Kuai Liang’s Grandfather in fact could be a pretty powerful warrior even as an old man.

The important thing however is that, the codenames may determine the position in clan hierarchy. We don’t have a way to analyze the subjection between codenames and social status of Sektor, Cyrax or Smoke but names used by cryomancers may define their level of mastery over ice. The title of Sub-Zero has existed for ages and I think it is right to assume this is a codename intended only for the best of the best. Sadly, we don’t know how high in the hierarchy was “Tundra” but we can’t cross the possibility that Bi-Han at some point in his career used that name too, before he managed to earn the mantle of Grandfather’s name.

So, Lin Kuei may not use typical ranks and instead stick to codenames passed from one generation to another. Thus no one is addressing Bi-Han as the master assassin and thief but everyone knows that the person using the codename “Sub-Zero” is one of top warriors in the service of the clan.

→ combat experiences, teachers and retirement

Combat experience is something that affects a warrior’s position in a clan because no amount of training (even as hellish as training of Lin Kuei adepts) will be the same as real life and death struggle. The more experienced a warrior is, the more valuable become to the clan. At the same time, old age will slow down even the best of the best fighters at some point. Surprisingly, the first game mentioned (hinted) the idea of retirement in Lin Kuei in Sub-Zero’s (Non-Canonical) Ending:

"After receiving the title of Grand Champion, Sub-Zero disappears back into the shadows from which he came. His only goal in the tournament was...the assassination of Shang Tsung. He was paid a large sum of money by one of Tsung's wealthy enemies. With his mission accomplished, Sub-Zero will collect his fortune and retire from his dangerous profession."

The original Sub-Zero was usually described as 32 years old. Which doesn’t sound old, but if we take into account the previously mentioned passage from the book, the teachings started at the age of 5 or 6 which could mean Bi-Han already survived two decades of harsh servitude to the clan (that abducted him and his younger brother). No one leaves Lin Kuei but there is a possibility that at some age the warrior may step down from the dangerous profession. Then, such a “retired” fighter could train adepts and young, less experienced members of the clan and maybe even start a family that will produce offspring - preferable with special powers - to supply the clan with new recruiters.

Because of that I assume that warriors in their prime were used mainly to do the dirty job and get as much money and valuable items as possible. Once they survived to a certain age, they shared the gained wisdom with less experienced fighters. We don’t know how students and teachers (“sifu”?) were assigned to each other; it may be related to their family ties or similars powers (cryomancers teaching cryomancers, like Kuai Liang and Frost) or the veterans picked youngsters for certain skills or traits that made them worth the time and effort. Anyway, veterans, as those who survived years of service, should be placed high in the hierarchy. Because their experiences and wisdom help to shape a new generation of warriors earning money and fame for the clan.

→ they work alone, in pairs or in bigger groups.

We rarely see the “nameless warriors” working alone - in case of danger or mission, they form a small army and do as they are commanded by Grandmaster (MKX) or one of master assassins, like Bi-Han (Mortal Kombat 2021). In contrast various sources show that named characters usually worked in pairs (Smoke & Tundra, Cyrax & Sektor, Sub-Zero/Bi-Han & Hydro) or alone (Bi-Han, Frost) and in some special cases, commanded larger groups of warriors.

This is an interesting detail, because all the named warriors seem to be to some degree familiar with each other even though it looks like they were permanently paired. Of course, training together will have this effect, but Lin Kuei operated world-wide and in different realms so it is not guaranteed that warriors had time to hang out between missions or to be at the same time in headquarters. If they possessed diverse, opposing elements, after passing the trials and earning the title of warrior, they could be trained separately. Thus again, a smaller chance to form (forbidden) friendship. Which is why I think there must be some exercises that force fighters to cooperate or test their skills in some sort of tournaments. Partially to see how well they fare in fight (thus judge their usefulness to clan), partially to establish hierarchy between them.

Who and how decides about pairing certain fighters is completely a mystery. On one hand, Hydro (water) and Sub-Zero (ice) were compatible and probably naturally increased their own powers. But we also have Kuai Liang (ice) and Tomas (smoke) whose elements seem like not the best combination since Smoke’s power should work better with fire (at least his battle cry, “Where there is Smoke, there is fire!” suggests that) and there is Cyrax and Sektor who powerwise may work well, but their mindsets are extremely different.

Are warriors forced into such partnerships by their superiors or were they allowed to find the right partner, sadly we do not know. On one hand, the dynamic between named characters makes an impression they are in fact an equal partners - Smoke joined Kuai Liang in his quest for revenge on his own (MK9), Sektor didn’t manage to force Cyrax into submission before the man left the clan. Comics!Sub-Zero and Hydro were so close that “Bi-Han” wasn’t afraid to admit his fears of undead Scorpion relentlessly haunting him and Hydro was supportive all the time (“Blood and Thunder”). On the other hand, partnership could provide additional safety and increase the chances of survival during missions and maybe even uphold an already earned social position, so the warriors may seek each other for solely pragmatic reasons, even more since friendship was seen as a weakness and forbidden. I also suspect that though partnership between two warriors was based on mutual benefits, there could be fierce competition between pairs.

Surprisingly, all known to us partnerships are between male characters. There is no gender-mixed duo as far as sources are concerned (unless comics!Hydro was female, trans- or agender person and frankly, for 4 comics issues only one narrator box used the pronunciation of “he” for Hydro, while Scorpion was constantly called by Lin Kuei, other characters or narratives as “he”, which always makes me wonder about Hydro’s gender. Or did comics!Lin Kuei warriors talk about themselves in third person to not betray their and their comrades true identity / gender?). Regardless of the nature of said partnership, those working together share a strong bond. Kuai Liang and Tomas outright considered themselves very close friends (family) despite clan rules that forbidden friendship. Bi-Han was willing to show his weakness / fear to Hydro who in return was very protective of him and even Sektor shows a pathological need to keep Cyrax at his side despite all the oblivious signs how unwise this decision is. Frost, sadly, didn’t have any named partner (what may be related to her role of chief between female Lin Kuei warriors) and if she was included in an important mission, she partnered Grandmaster (MK: Deadly Alliance). And their collaboration was based on a master-apprentice relationship, so it had none of the equality that characterizes the previously mentioned duos.

Of course, ultimately, the warrior who works alone does not need to share the fame (and earning?) with anyone. Bi-Han is the best example of that (Mythologies: Sub-Zero, Mortal Kombat novel (1995) or his bio from the original game). And yes, every warrior should be capable of completing the job, but though weak Lin Kuei fighters may look superhuman in Earthrealm they will not last long in Outworld.

And that brings us to another important matter:

→ the place of activity.

Because those who work frequently in Outworld by default should be considered better in the combat area. But at the same time, Lin Kuei must have a wide and well organized spy network, to keep track of all potential recruits (Smoke and Cyrax), access to science research and laboratories and so on. So, especially in modern times, combat skills may not be the most appreciated feature anymore and some Lin Kuei warriors, no matter how weak they are compared to others, will still have their special value to Grandmaster’s plans. Due to the nature of spying, they could also work alone or in small groups far from their homeland. Thus, operate outside the social hierarchy established between other warriors.

→ Punishments

A warrior could die on mission at any moment, but also could be killed for various offenses, such as:

Leaving the clan - punished by death and this seems to be a consistent punishment in all sources. Of course a determined warrior could manage to successfully run away (like Takeda, the founder of Shirai Ryu or Kuai Liang did) but Lin Kuei does not forget such crime and will hunt down the fugitive for years. The best example comes from the Mortal Kombat book, in which Sub-Zero spent two decades hunting down his own ex-partner in crime to kill him in a brutal way in front of the man's family.

So even if someone managed to run away and start a new life, there was no escape from the clan's wrath. In the modern time, Cyrax was captured and cyborgized - for him, it was fate worse than death. This actually brings the question, if there were warriors responsible for hunting down fugitives or was it the duty of those whose partners broke the sacred rule of “no one leaves Lin Kuei”?

Failure of mission - another known major crime punishable by death yet most likely not applies to Kuai LIang’s reformed clan.

In the Conquest TV series, by Grandmaster’s order two warriors that failed the mission were killed by then current Sub-Zero. This was as much public execution to show others what happens once you fail as presenting the ice powers of freshly promoted cryomancer:

“Before you stand two who have failed. For this there can be but one consequence and it must come from within, within us. Earth, wind, fire, water. To control one element of the four that make up life is power. A twist of nature, an aberration, one who brings forth true killing force. Before you stand one whose ancestors have passed on such power to us. Remember this well. Behold... Sub Zero. [Grandmaster’s speech, episode 3, “Cold Reality”]”

This is just one example from the distant past but it may also be a suggestion that warriors with special powers played the role of executors.

Another example, from Mythologies: Sub-Zero, thus relative modern times:

Scorpion: Yessss... I am Scorpion. You killed me in cold blood.

Sub-Zero: I had no choice. If I had not stolen that map I would be the dead one.

Frankly this attitude is both inhuman treatment of subordinates (failure in itself is just another source of experiences and sometimes failed mission wasn't the result of someone’s mistake or incompetence but of independent circumstances) and unpragmatic (losing manpower). We may only wonder if warriors were punished for failing all kinds of missions or just selected ones. At the same time, a fighter that survived to old age should be really respected - with such harsh laws, not many members live to old age and those who did through the decades failed little to no missions.

Lin Kuei punished also impostors:

which brings us back to the point about codenames and their relationship with social position (and hey, Noob’s complaints aren’t baseless). We don’t know though what kind of punishment was used for such an offense.

Disobeying Grandmaster was also a big deal. I suspect this could be punished by death too although rather not in Kuai Liang’s clan:

“When Sub-Zero made historic peace with his clan’s enemy, Scorpion, defiant Frost challenged her Grandmaster as unfit to lead. Sub-Zero defeated and banished Frost. [MK11]”

In general, Lin Kuei laws were harsh and cruel and it was really easy to lose such hard-earned privileges and positions.

Recruits

In ancient times, children were abducted at the age of 5 or 6 and forced into harh training. Some didn’t survive but those who did became fully pledged to Lin Kuei warriors. In modern times, it seems like most adepts have some blood-ties to other members of the clan and usually are “given” for training freely. There are exceptions to the rule, like Bi-Han and Kuai Liang, who were stolen from home at a young age. Finally, there are people who seem to join Lin Kuei on their own (or at least they think it was their choice), like Smoke, Cyrax and Frost.

(Tomas and Frost are confirmed users of special powers. Cyrax most likely possesses some unique genes too or at least is capable of well controlling his own energy (chi) during fight. Frankly, it looks like Sektor is the only one named Lin Kuei who does not utilize any special power. Ironically, considering how Grandmaster (Oniro) from Defenders of the Earthrealm was shapeshifter. Who knows, maybe Sektor didn’t inherited father’s unique skills?)

So even recruits are a diverse group to begin with and include people ethnically totally different from the majority(?) who needed to learn a new language(s) and culture from scratch. This alone gives a ground for potential conflicts though there is little to none examples of racism between Lin Kuei adult members? I mean, Lin Kuei used to look down on everyone who wasn’t one of them all the same, with special hatred for Shirai-Ryu - not for being Japanese (different ethinc group) but just for being Shirai-Ryu.

The adepts were trained by older warriors and looking at Sub-Zero’s origin (MK9), some adepts trained with family members (Kuai Liang and Bi-Han and maybe even under their Grandfather’s eye?) and teacher (Sifu?) could train more than one student at the same time.

In a way, those coming from the lineage of warriors could be from the start at better social standing than those who were “no ones” or came from far away lands and needed to earn respect of others. Those blood-related to clan members either developed specific powers during training or at least possesed special DNA that could be passed down to the next generation. So, even if those children weren’t the best of best fighters, they still have something valuable to the clan.

At the same time, again, Sektor doesn’t seem to have any special privileges, not once in game(s) called his father as anything other than Grandmaster and in general, he did not have much presence (respect?) between other warriors. I mean, he freely spoke only with Cyrax who in the end did not listen to him at all and almost always fell silent if there were more people around. So yeah, how big an impact on social dynamic between fighters had their blood-ties is not sure.

I’m not gonna talk much about the life of adepts (and there is a lot to say about potential pathologies and harm done to the kids), but they for sure were the lowest rank in (warrior) hierarchy, at least until they proved their worth.

So, the Lin Kuei warriors could be separated in three categories, from lower social rank to the highest:

adepts (in-training, maybe assisting in missions under the watchful eye of their superiors),

warriors (the one earning income),

veterans (teachers)

and the circle was completed.

(For some reason, the circle of Lin Kuei warrior life resembles the “Three-field system” but I have weird associations, I guess).

Household?

When we talk about the Lin Kuei clan, the first association that comes to mind is its warrior nature. But with such a large organisation, warriors are just one social class rather than the majority. Because someone needs to feed them, cloth, arm, heal, which seems logical to assume that there were other specializations that keep the clan running.

I mean, Lin Kuei is an independent faction that as far as we know, has no ties to any earthrealm government. This alone suggests to keep that independence the clan have to possess their own source of food, water, medical supplies and access to other necessary resources, so no enemy could besiege their strongholds and starve them and so on.

⇒ The medics will be for sure an appreciated branch of the clan. And yes, warriors to some degree must have medical knowledge (if not to save people then at least to know how to successfully kill them) but at the same, with so many specific genes and used in fight elements, some Lin Kuei members may have different medical needs than normal people.

⇒ Armorers (and smiths?) provide clan additional defensive equipment and weapons. And we know that even in modern times Lin Kuei barely used firearms and relied more on shurikens, knives and swords.

⇒ Scientists, computer experts and researchers, especially in modern times when C.I. Project became a thing, most likely playing a big role in the clan, fulfilling Grandmaster’s wish to change warriors into cyborgs. May not be liked by the traditionalist members of Lin Kuei, but favored by the leader (so be untouchable).

⇒ Farmers and craftsmen, providing the clan with the basic needs. I doubt they had much impact on social dynamics and may not even live on the grounds of the Lin Kuei Temple / Fortress. I imagine them living in the surrounding villages (or at the foot of the mountains?), giving the Lin Kuei food and handicrafts (and maybe even their own children?) as a tribute, and in return get protection.

My conclusion is that, Lin Kuei have pretty complex social structures in which Grandmaster and his closes circle administrate the whole system, warriors, depending on their age and expertises, are responsible for earning money and prepare the new generation to replace them, while household is there to keep previously mentioned groups alive and in the best condition. Everyone plays a role that helps to maintain Lin Kuei independence and reputation.

So, finally I get to the main part of the question about the dynamic between characters.

Who outrank who is a good question. The Grandmaster of course is above everyone else and so are the “ancient masters” / inner circle. Bi-Han seems to be one of the favored warriors by Grandmaster, the only(?) one confirmed to be the most cunning assassin and thief and the use of a codename associated with “ancient power” only adds to that impression. So, in regard to the named five characters (him, Kuai Liang, Smoke, Cyrax and Sektor) I would say Bi-Han outranked everyone. At the same time, he does not act arrogant against his fellow clansmen. Okay, to be honest, he seems to not interact much with anyone but that is rather the abrasive, asocial nature of cryomancer than anything else, really. And we have examples from various sources that Bi-Han wasn’t always rude to people around him. (Noob is another deal, but even then he has a more passive-aggressive attitude toward his brother than outright hate / arrogance).

Anyway, Bi-Han outranked the others. And yet, he does not seem to perform any special social functions - except maybe at Grandmaster’s command executing those who failed. In contrast, in MKX intro vs. Sonya, Frost was described by Kuai Liang as “chief among [female Lin Kuei]” which implies her high rank and responsible position in social structures.

One may wonder why Bi-Han most likely wasn’t given similar honor but to be an effective chief, the person must be available and close at hand. Going with Mythologies, the elder Sub-Zero barely came back from one mission (stealing map of elements) to be sent right away for another difficult task (stealing Shinnok amulet and side trip to Netherrealm) and then next one (Mortal Kombat Tournament). Of course, the game due to its limited time and space, won’t focus on realism such as making a proper preparation for the job but even if Bi-Han was allowed little rest between one and another mission, it really looks like he didn’t spend much time at Lin Kuei Temple. Thus there was no point in giving him any big group to oversee, if he wasn’t available to control what was going on between his subordinates. Also, he seems pretty familiar with Smoke and Kuai Liang’s close relationship but there are not many hints that he tried to do something about their breaking clan rules forbidding friendship.

Then again, there is a possibility that Kuai Liang, Smoke, Cyrax and Sektor did in fact belong to Bi-Han’s own “cohort” what could explain

A) why all the five characters are always so closely tied up to each other while the rest of clan members are just a background and

B) why with Sub-Zero’s death everything went to hell between them.

(And again, the amount of duties to female Lin Kuei could keep Frost from leaving headquarters too often, thus no need for partnership with anyone. Because of that, she grew angry at Kuai Liang for “holding her back” and at the same time not respecting enough to grant her the title of Sub-Zero).

Pragmatic resolution to solving inner conflict would be some kind of neutral judge (chief) and the fight for rank and position most likely happened under watch of superior(s). As in, official challenge, especially for top ranks like Sub-Zero. The official fight did not need to end with someone’s death but this could be one of rare situations when a warrior could kill the other fighter - or even the hated teacher / master? - without much consequence. Of course, Lin Kuei proved pragmatism is not always a priority but I strongly believe the clan structures were based on discipline and so arbitrary fights were also severely punished. What is the point of having warriors if they can’t be sent to earn money due to unnecessary injuries? Also, corporal punishment in itself shouldn’t be that big deal for society growing up in brutal ways since early childhood - which is why I suspect that the punishments were administered in public. As a form of humiliation, to force the guilty people to earn respect of fellow warriors again from scratch.

I suspect that warriors could be separated into smaller groups - basing on their special powers or family connection? - that competed with each other. Age could also regulate how one person should act around the others; for example, like youngling around veteran or fully trained fighter. Not sure how this rule could relate to those representing “household”. Were there laws protecting them or could they be bullied/killed on whim? Could warriors even be involved romantically with “servants” / lower class? The good thing from such affair could be the birth of children given to the clan once they were old enough and well, sex with “outsider” in itself can be a good way to relieve the warriors growing tension / stress resulting from living in a brutal environment without complicating things between companions. To be fair, some warriors could have romantic / intimate relationships with each other as well but most likely kept them secret to avoid punishment.

There is also a matter of who and how chose warriors to represent Lin Kuei at Mortal Kombat Tournament. I mean, Bi-Han was always the first choice, supported by the first game and Mythologies but did he choose Sektor and Cyrax as his companions or they naturally were chosen as part of his group or did Grandmaster assign them to Sub-Zero on his own? Dunno but keeping the five named Lin Kuei warriors together through the course of years really makes me think they came from the same, for a lack of better word, a cohort.

Cryomancers most likely stuck together (Bi-Han and Kuai Liang) and Smoke tagged along. Cyrax looks like an easy going type of person who isn't afraid to speak his mind so I wouldn’t be surprised if he were either on good terms with most clan members or pissing the rest while human Sektor, in contrast, is much more introverted, or even withdrawn from social interaction. This is of course only my subjective feeling, but he lacks a dominant presence to make a big impression. Not like the older Sub-Zero or Cyrax. Then we have Tundra!Kuai Liang whose loyalty belongs first and foremost to an older brother than the clan itself and to honor Bi-Han he will get into all sorts of dangerous problems and conflicts not caring for consequences at all. A behaviour that may not sit well with Sektor (even more, if he never had such a strong bond with own father/other people?). Sektor and Kuai Liang have a long history of ideological conflict and I suspect they truly could agree only about not giving up Cyrax’s remains to anyone and whatever was going on, protect the body at all cost.

Interestingly, as much as Kuai Liang and Tomas or Kuai Liang and Cyrax were close and on good terms (especially after the fiasco of C.I. project), Bi-Han and Sektor seem to be much closer to each other. If not in the stricte emotional sense, they at least share the pride in Lin Kuei and strive for perfection (manifesting itself in accepting their drastic changes for example). Even with limited sources, the storyline never(?) put Sektor and Bi-Han against each other, either as humans or cyborg and wraith and I strongly suspect there may be something much deeper about their relationship that lack of interaction on screen could suggest in the first place (x)(x).

Then we have tradition vs technology.

This most likely is a modern issue that could be the basis for serious inner conflicts between warriors. Those taking jobs in Outworld for sure must be powerful fighters, especially since technology is not something working well there. Bi-Han in most if not all sources was a traditionalist who didn’t use much or outright refused to use technology and I wouldn’t be surprised if he worked in Outworld frequently (especially Bi-Han in the newest movie was presented as a close associate of Shang Tsung). For the weaker warriors, advanced technology could be a life-saver. Then there is the whole Cyber Initiative that divided (and ultimately destroyed) Lin Kuei. For such a project, the clan either worked with independent / private researchers and cybernetic experts or actually had its own specialists (another possible social group?).

From MK9 we know Cyrax spoke in public against Grandmaster’s plan. In Defenders of the Realm, Smoke and Kuai Liang run from the clan at the first occasion to avoid such fate. Logically thinking, Sektor (supporter of the advanced technology) should not get along well with Bi-Han (stubborn traditionalist), the same as he fell out with Cyrax, Smoke and Kuai Liang. And yet there is not much evidence suggesting any big conflict between them. Of course, Sektor could simply not speak against his superior(?) the same as he argued with Cyrax but in all fairness, I doubt Bi-Han’s lack of use of technology was a secret not openly critiqued by others. I mean, even comics!Kuai Liang said about his brother that Bi-Han was “stubborn in many ways, refused to utilize modern technology on his missions. A shame, really. He was among the Lin Kuei’s finest --although fast becoming obsolete”. If Sektor and Bi-Han (and the rest of the group) worked together on joint missions, the issue of technology would come sooner than later. Though I suspect that no matter what Sektor would say, Bi-Han outstubborn him anyway. On other hand, it looks like only Sektor needed/chose to use advanced technology (flame thrower) while the rest relied on their special powers. In that case, being Sektor between gifted people for sure was a hard deal.

So, if I have to rank them I would say Bi-Han → Sektor & Cyrax who most likely were at least a bit higher than Kuai Liang (younger cryomancer) and Smoke. In case of conflict, I think as long as it was possible, they solved their problems among themselves. Bringing authority (Grandmaster, one of chiefs(?) or Bi-Han)��s attention was never a good idea because it could lead to public punishment / humiliation. Bi-Han may or may not knock some sense into others if the inner conflict gets out of hand or at least told them into face how idiotic they are (and he is pretty famous for insulting/mocking even those he shouldn’t. Like Quan Chi, a powerful client. Which is why I doubt he would tone down his natural abrasiveness. Especially not for an idiot that actually deserves it ).

And yet, whatever conflict was between those five characters, they still stayed loyal to each other. At least until someone outright broke one of the most punishable laws, like leaving the clan.

For example, Cyrax and Sektor argued about C.I. project - and most likely it was already an ongoing argument between them. Cyrax even was “among those speaking out against the Grand Master’s plan”. Not a good thing for their partnership yet Sektor still vouched for Cyrax when Shang Tsung had his doubts about the man. Or how Bi-Han changed sides during Tournament (MK9) - otherwise his fight against Scorpion would have zero sense - and maybe he did discuss the course of his action with his fellow clan members. But whatever he told or not what was going on, Cyrax was absolutely ready to kill Scorpion to avenge fallen cryomancer (“Scorpion will pay for this!”). Then we have Smoke not abandoning Kuai Liang even though he was already turned into Cyber Sub-Zero and attacked his friend and of course furious Tundra interrupting the Outworld Tournament and literally demanding from the Emperor to bring him Bi-Han’s murderer to kill. Hell, even Noob and Cyber Sektor stick to each other despite everything that happened.

Those five were a really loyal group, weren’t they?

So, in general:

the social structures of Lin Kuei were diverse and complex,

the punishment was harsh and deadly - in some cases, executed by a fellow warrior in public.

Bi-Han most likely had a high position in clan hierarchy but he wasn’t outright called a master

and there is possibility Sektor, Cyrax, Smoke and Kuai Liang worked under his command.

Most of the Lin Kuei members share blood ties to some degree but experiences and skills seem to outrank any family bond. In contrast to friendship, keeping touch with family (within the clan) is rather not forbidden. There may be a conflict between friendship (a choice) and family matters (a fate / tradition of serving Lin Kuei to uphold).

Kuai Liang and Smoke broke clan rules forbidding friendship (and Bi-Han did nothing about that?).

Cyrax most likely were familiar with Tundra and Smoke enough to like / respect each other. In the case of Tomas, the additional factor for keeping together could be the fact that both were born as outsiders (different ethnicity, lack of blood ties to clan).

Cyrax and Kuai Liang had ideological conflict with Sektor, who in turn seems to be on good terms with Bi-Han.

Bi-Han on the other hand seemed to not have any conflict with the four named warriors? Kuai Liang was his brother (and there is no example he was abused in any way by the older sibling, I think?), MK9!Smoke may not be on a first name basis with Bi-Han (didn’t call him in game as anything else than Sub-Zero or Kuai Liang’s brother) but he was accepted as Kuai Liang’s close friend. At the beggining of Tournament, Cyrax was seen on Sub-Zero’s right side and there is the scene-parallel (with Sektor cut off from the frame, the impression is that we were shown the honorable/”good” Lin Kuei) and he showed protectiveness toward Sub-Zero.Then there is Sektor who somehow get along with Bi-Han (and Noob) without any complaints or problems. Of course, Smoke, Cyrax and Sektor could be smart enough to not get in any open conflict with abrasive Bi-Han. Kuai Liang is a whole different matter, I guess.

The named characters in fact didn’t need to like each other but they were taught discipline and loyalty to the group from the start. Though it would be really hilarious if the most abrasive cryomancer with little to no social skills was in fact the one that keep them all together and was a bridge between strong-willed/hotheaded Kuai Liang & Smoke, independent Cyrax and blindly loyal, withdrawn Sektor.

I’m not sure if such a mix of strong personalities was the norm between warrior groups or was it just Bi-Han’s luck to get involved with duos of Tundra-Smoke and Sektor-Cyrax at some point. Anyway, this is my take on social structures and dynamics between Lin Kuei.

Hope it satisfies your curiosity!

#mortal kombat #lin kuei #sub zero #bi han #kuai liang #cyrax #sektor #tomas vrbada #smoke #hydro #lin kuei grandmaster #my meta #my replies #lin kuei social structures #lin kuei social dynamic #what a great thing to talk about!#sorry it took so long #RELEASE THE RAMBLES ha!#only if anyone is ready for like 20 pages in google doc XD #thank you for the ask!#i don't have an idea how asocial bi han became (in my mind) the bridge between strong headed tundra smoke and cyrax #and withdrawn sektor but here i am #but no #seriously it makes sense that mk lore is all about sektor cyrax smoke and ice bros #if they were part of the same group #to begin with right?#i just don't have an idea who could look at abrasive asocial bi han and thought yep let give him some troublemakers and one withdrawn #and see how it will work!#i bet it was some sort of revenge for bi han's lack of care for manners and social norms

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

Text

I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme

No one is allowed to get mad that I didn’t finish the reading and finished this instead shhhhh (I read like half of it and then the adhd kicked in) but here we are with another part.

HUGE shoutout to my girl @tkachuk197 for reading through the part I was struggling with. She said it was good, so I’m taking her word for it!

Hope you like it!

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

_________________________

“I can’t even look at you right now.”

“You don’t mean that.”

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

You wake up, disoriented and confused as to where you were. You weren’t in your own room, you knew that; the decorations were different, and it definitely wasn’t your bed you were lying in. You feel a strong arm wrapped around you, a hard body pressed against your bare skin as your legs were tangled up in each others. You turn over ever so carefully to see Matthew still asleep, a soft snore escaping from his slightly parted lips as the memories of the night before came flooding back to you. You slept with Matthew.

You.

And Matthew.

Slept together.

Multiple times. You didn’t even remember how many times you did.

You try to untangle your legs from his without waking him up. His eyes flutter open, meaning you failed, but seeing the smile on his face once he saw you made any doubt you had about the last night melt away. Maybe Evelina was right.

“God, you are beautiful,” his raspy voice taking your breath away as he sits up next to you. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing his lips to yours for a soft, sweet kiss. He pulls away, a soft smile on his face. He takes in a deep, slow breath before letting out, “I can’t believe last night finally happened.”

“Finally?” you ask him.

He lets out a laugh, his hand moving it’s way to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. He puts his forehead to yours, his lips ghosting yours, “You had to know I’ve been wanting this for ages.”

Evelina was right. “I really didn’t,” you admit.

“And yet,” he whispers, “you’re still the smartest person I know.”

You’re the one to kiss him this time. You wouldn’t change anything about the night before, but would you be willing to let it happen again? “Can I use your bathroom and shower?” you ask him.

“Yeah, of course, do you need anything?”

“A shirt for when I get out?” you ask him, starting to get out of bed. Do you try to keep yourself covered for as long as possible? Actually, what was the point? He had already seen your entire body last night. You get up, leaving the sheets behind. Your back was to him, but judging by the sharp inhale immediately followed by him muttering “fuck” under his breath, he couldn’t take his eyes off you as you walked to his bathroom.

You turn on his shower, letting it heat up as he finds you a shirt. Standing in the door, you watch him shuffle through his drawers. He pulls one out, walking over to hand it to you. You take it from him, both of you standing there for a moment, eyes lingering on the others body. “You could get in with me,” you say, a smirk on your face.

His eyes go wide, a smile on his face. “You want that?”

You don’t answer him. Instead, you bite your lip, dropping the t-shirt on the floor and taking him by the hand. Walking backwards to the running shower, your plant your lips on his. You try not to stumble around until he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. You feel the hot water hitting your back immediately, yelling by the sudden shock of the heat.

“Too hot?” he asks, through laughter, putting you down and reaching around you to fix the temperature. You kiss his neck, feeling him swallow hard as your lips connected to his skin. He lets out a moan as you work your way back up to his lips, “You know just how to make me feel great, don’t you,” he says, his hands on the small of your back pressing your body against his.

“I think,” you say between kisses, “we actually need to shower. We’re kind of gross.”

He laughs, reaching behind you again to grab his shampoo. The two of you go about your business, your mind racing as you watched the water fall down his body. He turns you around, his soap now in his hands as he starts washing your back. “Tell me something,” he whispers into your ear, pressing a kiss against your neck.

You try to wrack your brian, fighting from going numb by his hands washing your body. “You know the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland?” you ask him as he turns you around to face him, handing you the soap so you can do the same to him. He smiles and nods, kissing you before letting you continue. You put the soap in your hands, rubbing his shoulders, “Well, the idea comes from the term ‘mad as a hatter.’ When people used to make hats, before knowing the dancers of the element, they would use a lot of elemental liquid mercury. What they didn’t know is that mercury can bind to your blood cells.”

You let the soap rinse off his back, placing a kiss between his shoulder blades as you hear a moan escape his lips. He turns around not letting you finish, kissing your neck. “It binds to hemoglobin the same way that oxygen does,” you explain, feeling him sucking on your neck as your mind flashes back to the day with him at the liquor store. “The difference is that the bond between oxygen and the blood cell is weak enough that it can break, allowing for the cell to travel through the body and continuously delivering oxygen. Mercury is so heavy and forms such a strong bond that it doesn’t break off, stopping the transport of oxygen.”

“And what?” he says, his forehead pressed against yours.

“They go crazy because of lack of oxygen. Hence being mad as a hatter.”

His kisses you again, reaching behind you to turn off the water. “Sounds like you’re my mercury, then.”

You roll your eyes, kissing him again and stepping out of the shower. He follows suit, both of you just getting ready at your own pace. Throwing the t-shirt on, you were surprised by how big it felt on you. Matthew was bigger than you for sure, but not so much bigger that his shirt should be fitting like a dress on you. You hear him mutter something under his breath, turning around to see him staring at you in his clothes.

You smile and shake your head, brushing your hair out. “If I knew how good your clothes looked on me, I would have started giving you stuff ages ago,” he says, his hands snaking their way around your waist, the two of you just standing there.

“You’re being awfully lovely lately,” you tease him, wiggling free from him. “Any chance we can make or order food?”

He takes your hand to lead you out of his room. Walking to his living room, you can hear voices coming from somewhere. You don’t remember turning on the TV at any point in the night, so what was it.

“Took you long enough to come out of there,” you hear Evelina say, Matthew immediately dropping your hand at the sight of her and Elias sitting on his couch, already surrounded by food.

“What are you doing here?” you ask Ev, sitting down next to her, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were only wearing Matthew’s shirt in front of her and Elias.

“I forgot Elias has the spare key,” Matthew says to you before turning to his friend, “But you’re supposed to use it for emergencies, dude.”

Elias shrugs, handing Matthew a container, “Ev texted me last night when Y/N wouldn’t answer her. Your location on ‘find my friends’ said you were here.”

“Yeah, he said he saw you two leave together last night, so it would make sense that you came here with him,” Evelina explains. “And it’s not like you use our key for emergencies, you just barge in,” she adds, earning a scowl from Matthew.

“So you came here to find out?” you ask her, a little annoyed by the intrusion.

“How was I supposed to know you weren’t dead? If you die, I can’t afford rent,” Evelina argues. You can’t help but laugh, even though you knew it was true. You start to play with the collar of the shirt when you see Evelina’s eye’s go wide. “Oh, my god!” she shrieks, grabbing the bag next to her, taking you by the hand and dragging you back to Matthew’s bedroom.

“Jesus, you’re going to rip my arm out, what the hell?”

“You slept with each other!” she practically screams.

“Can you not scream about that? How could you tell?” you hiss at her, covering her mouth.

Pushing your hand out of the way, she starts again, “You always play with your shirt collar after you’ve slept with someone, it’s your tell. I know Elias and I have been trying to get you two together but this went from zero to a hundred way too fast for two people ‘not in love,’” her voice turning to a mocking tone at the end.

“Elias was in on it?” you ask her, making the connection back to last night, “That’s what the look was for when we left.”

“What? Nevermind. I thought you didn’t love him.”

“You don’t have to be in love with a boy to fuck him,” you counter, trying to figure out whether or not you were lying. “At most I tolerate him. I like him. As a friend. It’s friends with benefits,” you ramble.

She rolls her eyes at you, clearly unamused by your blatant denial, “It’s amazing how dumb you are. Babe, all you’re wearing is his shirt, and nothing else. We hear the shower turn on and turn off only once, only long enough for one shower and both of you have wet hair, which means you had to be in there together, and clearly,” she says, pointing at the mess that was his bed, “More than just sleeping happened in there. You don’t do that with just anyone. You didn’t sleep with your first boyfriend until you had been together for nearly a year. I’m pretty sure you’ve never given a hickey or gotten one for that matter until you came home from the liquor store. Why are you denying this so much?”

You close your eyes and take in a deep breath. She was right about almost everything. “Can we just leave it at liking him. I’m not in love with him.”

She throws her hands up in surrender, shaking her head and reaching for the bag, “Whatever,” she shoves the bag in your chest, “I brought you a change of clothes. At least be wearing fucking underwear when you get home. I’m leaving.”

She doesn’t look in your direction as she leaves the bedroom. “Ev, wait,” you call after her. You knew she was mad at you. She was obviously annoyed with you for the constant denial. She slams the door just as you reach it, feeling Matthew and Elias’s eyes on you. You lean your back against the door, trying to fight back tears over your best friend storming out on you, your head against the door looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Matthew comes up to you, rubbing your arms, “What just happened?”

“She’s just mad at me for, um,” you start, not making eye contact with Matthew as you try to figure out what to tell him. “Not telling her where I was last night.”

“Shouldn’t you go after her?” he asks, concerned that you were clearly upset about this and not doing the best at showing it.

You run your tongue along your top teeth, shaking your head, “Nah. We’ll work it out when we’re both home. Hey, um,” you say, swallowing back tears, “She brought me a change of clothes and some of my stuff, so I’m going to go change, ok?” He nods, letting you slip past him, wiping a tear away from your cheek as you shut yourself in his room.

“I have never seen you this soft for a girl before,” Elias says.

“What are you talking about?” Matthew says, practically throwing himself on the couch with the food they had brought.

“Like, Evelina’s been trying to tell me that you’re in love with Y/N, so we’ve been trying to get you two together, but I didn’t really believe her until I saw you be soft for her.”

Matthew knew Evelina had a plan, but how was Elias even involved, “And what have you done to get us together?”

He gives Matthew the same annoyed look Evelina gives him when he’s asked a dumb question. “I was flirting with her right in front of you and you short circuited.”

Matthew things about last night, watching Elias trying to get you to dance with him. “Fuck you, man.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, a smirk on his face, “Hey, it worked, didn’t it. You should be thanking me.” Matthew rolls his eyes at him. He really didn’t need his teammates flirting with you to get him to want to be with you.

“It would have happened eventually.”

“You’ve been flirting with her since the day you met. It took me flirting with her to get you two together.”

Matthew stops for a minute. Are you two ‘together?’ He had no idea what last night meant to you. He knew what it meant to him, but to you, it could have meant anything. “I don’t know if we are.” He takes a bite of the food, starting down at the remains in the container and pushing it around with his fork. He wanted to be with you, but he couldn’t do that if you weren’t up for it, too.

Elias shrugs, knowing that whatever he said Matthew would either detest and ignore or go run into the bedroom and do right now. “You could always ask her out on a real date. Not some event with all the guys that leads to you fucking all night.” Matthew nearly chokes on the last bite of food when he hears Elias say that. “I know how you act after you get laid. You’re a little quiet, a little lovey,” he says, adding a little shoulder shimmy at the word ‘lovey.’ He gets up, grabbing his keys from underneath all the napkins and utensils that littered the half eaten breakfast they had brought, “Whatever you do, don’t hurt her. Evelina will have me kill you and I really don’t want to have to hide your body. Have fun, be safe.”

Elias leaves him there sitting on the couch. He knew that Evelina told you to have ten things that you hated about him that you would have to ask him out, but what if he asked you out before you completed the list? Would you have to say no? Or worse: would you want to say no?

He hears you come out of his room, now changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. “Hey, I think I’m gonna get going,” you tell him, scooping up the dress that was still on the floor from last night.

“Let me get my keys, I’ll give you a ride,” he says, shuffling the containers around to try to find them buried under there. He could deal with that stuff later. “Let’s go,” he says, waving his key ring in the air.

He extends his hand out for you to lead you down to his car. You’re hesitant to take it, but you do anyway, your fingers intertwining with his. It was weird how well your hands fit together, how well all of you fit together. You never would have thought that you would.

The two of you ride to your place in silence, neither of you sure what to say. He pulls in front of your building, but you don’t want to get out. You don’t want to leave him even though you know you need to talk to Evelina. You let out a sigh, “I don’t want to have to fight with her.”

“If it’s just about being away last night then I’ll just text her and say it’s my fault,” he says, reaching over and taking your hand.

“That’s sweet,” you tell him as he kisses your hand, “but it’s fine. It’s between us, we’ll work it out, we always do.”

He just nods, feeling himself getting nervous. “What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks you, figuring it was now or never.

You form a thin line with your lips, shaking your head, “I don’t know. Right now nothing, why?”

He swallows hard, getting worried that his nerves would get the best of him. Why was he so nervous about this? You just spent the night with each other, you’ve been together before plenty of times. “I was,” he starts, his voice obviously shaking. You look at him, concerned. This wasn’t like him. He normally had more confidence in his pinky than some people had in their entire body. “I was wondering if you would let me take you out? On a date? A real date?”

Would this go against the deal you have with Evelina? Actually, it only would if you couldn’t come up with ten things and then didn’t ask him out at the end of the month. What was the harm of one date. “Yeah, Matty, I would love to.”

He smiles, taking your face in his hands and planting one more kiss on you before you know you have to get out of his car. “I l-” he starts to say, stopping himself, “I’ll see you tomorrow. For our date.”

“For our date,” you repeat, trying to properly process the words. You get out of his car and head up to your place. You were going on a date with Matthew Tkachuk. You were giddy, and you couldn’t wait to tell Evelina about it.

Except you and Evelina had to hash other things out first, your joy and excitement turning to fear and dread over having to fight with her. You two almost never had real fights, so you had no idea what this was going to entail. You get to your apartment, standing outside your door. Finally working up the nerve to go inside, you find Evelina sitting on the couch watching something on TV. “Hey,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“Hi,” she says, not taking her eyes off the screen.

“So?” you say, sitting down next to her. “Can we talk about what happened at Matthew’s?”

“Why?” she asks, turning off the TV, irritation dripping in her tone. “No matter what I tell you about you and Matthew you deny.”

“Ev, you keep forcing the idea of loving him down my throat,” you tell her, trying not to raise your voice, “I understand that you’re rooting for us to be together but it’s just putting pressure on me and I can’t handle it.”

She looks down at her hands in her lap, her lips pursed, “You just,” she says, taking a deep breath, “For as long as I have known you, you’ve been talking about how excited you were to find the guy who would love you more than anything, for everything you are. I think you already know him. It’s Matthew.”

“And I get that. I’m trying to work out my feelings for him on my own, Ev. I love that you’re trying to look out for me, but at a certain point, you constantly telling me that I’m in love with him when I’m confused isn’t helping. Do you know how nervous I’ve been to tell you about last night? I was thinking about you more than I was thinking about him,” you tell her, both of you laughing.

“Please tell me you didn’t yell my name instead of his at any point,” she jokes, both of you cringing.

“I have a feeling Matthew would have had a lot of questions about that if I did.” You look at your best friend, knowing she’s just looking out for her, “Can you please just go a little easier on the whole, ‘I love Matthew thing?’”

“You just have to let me know when you figure it out,” she says, pulling you in for a hug.

“You’ll probably know before he does.”

She pulls away, you surprisingly shocked that this turned out easier than you thought it would be. “So, how was it?” she asks, a devilish grin on her face.

You laugh again, not shocked that she would ask something about it. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you think about the night before. “It was great. He’s taking me out tomorrow night.”

Her jaw drops, “On a date?” she squeals, jumping up and down on the couch. You spend the rest of the afternoon recounting as much as you wanted about the previous night to her. Your phone buzzes with texts from Matthew, asking you how your conversation with Evelina went.

You spend the rest of the day on the couch with your roommate, turning on the game to watch Matthew and the guys play. At one point between periods, he sends you a rare ‘during game’ text.

‘Fuck me’ he sends, referencing a bad penatly he took that luckily didn’t result in anything for the other team.

‘Tell me when, tell me where, any time, and I’m there,’ you send back, showing Evelina before you hit send. He responds back immediately, with just the red emoji that has it’s tongue sticking out, with the water droplet by it’s eye.

“You’re rhyming? This boy has you rhyming?” she asks. You could tell she wanted to say more about it, but you were thankful she didn’t. The game ends, the boys winning in overtime, thank god. “Oh, what about the list?”

You look at her, not even sure if the list was still in the fridge when you threw it in there the other day. You meant to take it out, but you know for sure that you never did. “What about it?”

“You’re going on a date with him. I think that means you’re dating him, even if he isn’t your boyfriend. Do you still want to finish it?”

You sit there and think for a moment, staring blankly at Gio giving an interview after the game. If it weren’t for the list, would you even be in this position right now? Would you be thinking about Matthew in any way other than as your friend? “Yeah, I think I do,” you tell her, making a mental note to pull it out of the fridge or just start a new one.

“Really?” she asks, shocked, “The point of it is that you’re writing out the things you hate about him. Why would you want to keep that going if you’re going out with him?”

“You said it was to prove that I didn’t love him. I still need to figure out if that’s true.”

Her face drops, obviously upset that it seems like you were taking three steps back from the step forward you had taken the night before. The list just let you deny your feelings for him, she thought. But what could she do to stop you from finishing it? “Do you want to add anything to it?”

“If we can find it, yeah,” you say, confusion washing over her face. “It might be in the fridge because he almost saw it when he was over the other day,” you explain.

“What do you want to add?”

Even though you know it’s supposed to be on your ‘hate list,’ you can’t help but smile when you tell her, “The way he makes me rhyme.”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #flames #flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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qqueenofhades · 3 years ago

Note

i noticed that you like to write a lot of heartrender husbands from fedyor’s side of things (which makes sense cause fedyor is fun!) but i have to ask in the modern au, what was ivan thinking the whole first two months 😂??

like was he carrying the joke the whole time? did his brain short circuit around fedyor?? was he worried about what fedyor was thinking or did he just think he was shy? Did he think the first date went well ☠️?

This was supposed to be lighthearted, but then there came Feels. So here is Ivan's backstory in Phantomverse. Content warning for mentions of an abusive relationship, familial homophobia, implied sexual manipulation, and dark themes. Nothing graphic, but duly noted.

Also on AO3.

Brighton Beach, 2015

It’s safe to say that Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov Kaminsky did not ever, not in a thousand years, not in a million, imagine himself ending up here. At one point, even Moscow would have been a stretch, and that was obviously still Russia. The fact that he would be walking down a sidewalk in Brooklyn, under the elevated tracks of the Q train that rattles and bangs overhead, on a cool spring morning to do his shopping at the Brighton Bazaar – in, should this somehow not be clear, America – and then returning to his apartment and his husband is, quite frankly, something out of an alternate-Ivan timeline. One from the Twilight Zone, or whatever they are calling that kind of thing these days. Sometimes when he thinks about it too much, he gets afraid that it is in fact a dream. That no matter how long it has gone on and how good it has been, it will suddenly and inevitably end. After all, he is Russian. Sunny optimism has never been accused of forming a notable facet of the national character, and Ivan himself would never be described as the hopeful type. But God, for this, he does.

He reaches the bazaar – a bustling blue-awninged international supermarket with three-quarters of its signs written in Cyrillic – and steps inside, grabbing a basket and pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket to double-check his list. He knows what he needs, but he likes the tidiness of writing it down, and he proceeds into the crammed aisles, passing customers speaking English, Russian, Ukrainian, Uzbek, Yiddish, and several other languages he can’t identify by ear. Brighton Bazaar stocks all the Russian products necessary to satisfy even a homesick expat like Ivan, and he enjoys being able to navigate the store with ease and read all the labels at first glance. He can get by in English, if he’s pressed, but it’s easier to leave it to Fedyor, who is fluent, and in here, he can conjure the illusion that he will walk out on the street and be back where he truly belongs. He likes Brighton Beach a great deal more than he ever expected to, but it’s no replacement for the real thing.

Ivan collects his purchases, along with a few special extras, and takes them to the counter. He is greeted in Russian by the checkout clerk, who knows him well for always turning up at the same time every Saturday morning with military precision. As Semyon Pavlovich Kuznetsov (who is called Syoma by his friends, but he has not clearly stated that Ivan can use the diminutive and therefore Ivan does not) scans his items, Ivan consents to exchange a few gruff words of small talk on the weather (nice) how the Mets did last night (badly) and the old guy who apparently died of a heart attack two days ago in the Russian bathhouse on Neck Road (making Ivan glad he did not choose said day to attend). It’s this weird Russian-American hybrid of things, since Semyon is the teenage grandson of a Red Army veteran who fought at Stalingrad, but he was born and raised in Brooklyn, loves American video games, and is fully fluent in American pop culture. It startles Ivan to realize that while this kid speaks Russian perfectly, he has probably never done so in Russia outside of a few visits back to the old country when his family can afford it. That is a very personal question to ask one’s grocery clerk, however, and he does not.

And then there’s that other thing, which he would definitely never be asked in Russia, especially not these days. Semyon hits the button to tally up Ivan’s bill, informs him that he owes $56.77, and then says cheerily, “How is Fedyor?”

Ivan concentrates on digging the exact amount out of his wallet in cash, since he never had a credit card when he lived in Russia and is still somewhat leery of them. “Fedyor is fine,” he says curtly, in the tone that makes it clear that he understands this question is an expected part of an American social interaction, but that is all the information he is willing to venture. “Here is the money.”

Semyon accepts it, counts it into the till, and rings the transaction through, handing Ivan his bags and his receipt. “Have a nice day, Mr. Kaminsky!”

“Thank you, Semyon Pavlovich.” Ivan accepts his purchases and leaves the store, taking a deep breath of the salty, sunny air and the wind whipping off the seafront. It’s still a little too early in the year for there to be many bathers on the beach, though there are always people strolling on the boardwalk. It’s only a few minutes to the apartment, which is just off Brighton Beach Avenue and overlooks the Atlantic Ocean. Ivan buzzes into the old brownstone, takes the stairs to the third floor, and as he unlocks his front door and lets himself in, wonders, yet again, at the sheer impossibility that his life has led him here.

Ivan is the third of five boys, but he was the one who was named after his father. It was not, of course, because they had some special hope for him to be the great inheritor of paternal pride, but a simple matter of logistics. His oldest brother, Roman, was named after their paternal grandfather. His second-oldest brother, Oleg, was named after their maternal grandfather. When Ivan arrived, only then was it proper to name him after Ivan Romanovich, Ivan Sakharov senior, since rushing too fast to glorify yourself as an individual, rather than your community and your ancestors, could be seen as running contrary to the collectivist ideals of the great Soviet Union. By the time his two younger brothers arrived, his parents were hard pressed for ideas; Yuri (for Gagarin) and Vladimir (originally for Lenin, though that has obviously acquired a different connotation those days) were clearly obtained by putting the names of national heroes into a hat and picking.

Five children was quite a lot for a Soviet-generation family, and Ivan doesn’t know anyone else his age with that number of siblings. After all, more children meant more time standing in line at Municipal Grocery Store #5 for food that has to be shared among more mouths, more worries about how to clothe and educate and accommodate them, more chances for one of them to go terminally astray and betray the family honor. Ivan wonders sometimes if his parents only really wanted Roman and Oleg, but decided to keep going as a matter of gaming the system, so much as it was able to be gamed.

By the early 1980s, the aging, decrepit, dying USSR, run by aging, decrepit, dying men, was in the grip of a demographic crisis so extreme that it was a contest between worrying about which one would end them faster: crazy President Reagan with his finger on the nuclear button, or the whole country just keeling over of old age. The idea of what a family even meant had been under constant challenge since the heady days of the Bolsheviks, who denounced marriage as a construct of bourgeoisie oppression and preached for free love and sexual liberation. Then it went hard back in the other direction during Stalin and the Great Patriotic War, holding up the traditional nuclear family as the highest ideal and offering rewards to mothers who had multiple children. Then it lurched away again. Abortion and contraception had been legal and freely available since the days of the revolution and most Soviet women made good use of them. Plus, of course, the obvious difficulties of maintaining a sizeable family when it was increasingly impossible to obtain even basic supplies and foodstuffs. It just made no sense.

Desperately trying to counter this slide toward self-inflicted obsolescence, the late-stage USSR came up with a number of incentives to boost the birth rate by any means necessary. They allowed mothers to refuse to list fathers on the birth certificate, to avoid social shame if he was married, foreign, a drunkard, or otherwise unsuitable, and beefed up programs to support single women with children. They also went back to the old-school plan of granting extra stipends, housing privileges, and state recognition to families that had more than two children, and Ivan himself was the third of his. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that he was almost surely conceived for the tax benefits.

Not, that is, that it didn’t work. When Ivan was born in 1984, the family lived in a tiny apartment on the tenth floor of a building with no elevator (or rather it did have an elevator, but it was always broken), crowded in with three single young men who were at the very bottom of the list for being assigned housing. By the time his youngest brother, Vladimir, was born in 1987, they had been moved to a small house of their own on the outskirts of Krasnoyarsk, not far from the bus that his father took two hours a day out to the mine. The cynical old joke in the USSR was that the people pretended to work and the government pretended to pay them, though in Ivan Romanovich’s case, the work was backbreakingly real, even if the money wasn’t. He would come home exhausted and filthy after a sixteen-hour shift and yell at Galina Sakharova to feed him, bark at his sons, and then fall asleep in front of the television, only to get up the next morning and shuffle off again.

Ivan Ivanovich has spent a lot of time after he left home trying to understand what that kind of life would do to a man, mostly because he didn’t do it while he was there. Of course he didn’t. He was a child, and it was simply what he was used to, the only way the world could possibly be. On the night of December 26, 1991, as Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev signed the United Soviet Socialist Republics out of existence with a single stroke of the pen, Ivan remembers his father crying and swearing and throwing things at the wall, the heavy yellow-glass ashtray that always seemed unbreakable, perched on the kitchen table to collect the detritus of his constant cigarettes, smashed to bits just like their country, their sense of self, their security. It wasn’t as if life in the USSR was so wonderful. It was just the only thing they knew. Beyond that, there was nothing but the terror of the utterly unknown.

At any rate, the world didn’t end. The oligarchs moved in and began snapping up Russia’s newly privatized economy. Ivan Ivanovich, of course, had no goddamn clue about this either, aside from overhearing his father curse about it some more. He trudged through secondary school and left at eighteen, without even trying to proceed onto university. Those weren’t for someone like him, he knew that. Instead he got a job at the ever-troubled Krasnoyarsk Aluminum Plant, and went straight to work on the factory floor.

It was around this time that the one disruption in his otherwise humdrum life, the one thing that stopped him from just settling into the same miserable existence as his father and going on like that forever, became too impossible to ignore. And that was the fact that no matter how much Ivan tried to squash it down, push it aside, or otherwise pretend it didn’t exist, he could no longer deny the fact that he was attracted to men, and only to men. He bought some of the cheap porn magazines from the tabak, tried to flip through them and get something out of the girls in heavy eyeliner and bleached-blonde hair, spilling out of their scanty lingerie, and just… didn’t. He wasn’t even interested enough to try a conversation with a real flesh-and-blood woman (not that Ivan had ever gotten through a conversation with another human being, especially a woman, without disaster) and see if it was different in the flesh. Nothing about the experience, even imagining it, appealed to him at all. But men…

He knew it wasn’t right, just because – well, you knew that sort of thing, you didn’t have to ask about it, you didn’t let on. But nonetheless, something, somehow, must have given him away, because one evening after the end of his shift, one of his coworkers cornered him in the back. His name was Konstantin and he was a few years older, big and bluff and constantly smelling like machine oil. He stood there, folded his arms, and said, “I will give you five hundred rubles if you suck my dick, Ivan Ivanovich.”

Ivan didn’t know how to answer. He had never spoken to Konstantin about anything aside from the job. He didn’t like him, he wasn’t attracted to him, and he didn’t want his filthy fucking rubles. He wanted to go home and take a shower.

And yet. He wanted to know. So when he went home, it was with five hundred rubles in his pocket, and a strange, indefinable feeling of something both excitement and shame. He looked it up later and found that it was barely seven American dollars, barely enough to buy a sandwich in this place he now lives. Then after that it became – not a relationship, not exactly. But he had done it once and Konstantin knew that he was at least theoretically willing, and there was no getting away from it now. Soon enough it became something of a regular thing, and then Konstantin wanted to try other stuff and not always pay, and if Ivan ever protested, Konstantin would threaten to get him fired from the factory or tell his family what they were doing. Ivan knew that he couldn’t let this happen, and besides, this was a relationship, or so he would tell himself. It was rough and it wasn’t very enjoyable and he didn’t like the way it made him feel, but it was probably the best he was going to get, here in this place, so he had no choice but to put up with it.

Until one night when his older brother came to pick him up from work, which he didn’t usually do. Something about it set off Ivan’s alarm bells, but he got into Roman’s battered old Zhiguli anyway. They didn’t head back toward the house. Instead they headed for the country, the narrow, crumbling road that led into the vast forests of Krasnoyarsk Krai. The city was often voted one of the most beautiful in Siberia, surviving even its long periods of grim industrialization with something of its soul intact. It wasn’t as cold as Yakutsk or Oymyakon, the places where it stayed at sixty below zero all winter long and boiling water froze when you tossed it out the window. Winters only got down to a few degrees below, and in Russia, that was par for the course. Ivan loved his hometown, and he was used to the outdoors. He was a sportsman, a natural athlete. He played hockey, bandy, football, rugby, and basketball (surprisingly popular in Russia). He swam and boxed. He was tall and tough and muscled and most people never bothered him. But when the car coasted to a halt in the middle of nowhere and Roman turned off the headlights, he was still terrified.

His brother said, “I hear you’re doing things, Vanya.”

Ivan didn’t answer.

“I hear you’re doing things with men.” Roman reached over and grabbed him violently by the shoulders, pinning him against the seat. “Disgusting things. I will not have one of those in the family, do you hear me? Do you hear me? If I find out that you have done it ever again, even once, I will make sure that you pay the price. Are you listening? Say that you understand.”

“Yes,” Ivan said. “I understand.”

What he really understood was that he was going to leave, when he had barely been out of Krasnoyarsk Krai in his life. Going as far as Novosibirsk for a shopping trip was unusual, and once, in school, he went to Georgia, which was the first time he had left the country (though of course, it used to be the country). But he knew that he could not stay here anymore, and in a moment of welcome serendipity, that was also when his conscription notice arrived. At the time, every Russian man over the age of eighteen had to serve two obligatory years in the armed forces (though it has since been lowered to one, of which Ivan does not necessarily approve), and his number had come up. So he quit his job, did not say goodbye to Konstantin or tell him where he was going, packed his few boxes of things, and moved four thousand kilometers and four time zones west to Moscow.

Ivan arrived in the capital trying not to present himself as a wet-behind-the-ears country boy, to act like he knew what he was doing, to show he was much tougher and meaner than any of these spoiled, pampered little children whining about how hard it was when they trudged into headquarters and presented their army notices. In that, he had a genuine advantage; he had worked hard for his whole life, he had already been through whatever could possibly endured with a father and four brothers, and he found the strict routines, harsh discipline, and predictable tasks of the army comforting. Everyone was scared of him, he didn’t need to try (though he did), and that was also gratifying. He worked hard and pleased his commanders, who tried to entice him to stay on as a full-time professional serviceman. There were many opportunities for a man of his talents, and more money than Ivan had ever dreamed of. As for his personal life, as long as he was scrupulously discreet and kept turning in good results, they would not trouble to enquire too closely. That was already better than from what he had expected with Konstantin. Once again, he thought it would be the best he got.

That was where, therefore, he met Aleksander Ilyich Morozov.

Morozov was his opposite in many ways – rich, well-spoken, well-educated, the son of a legendary KGB commander and the inheritor of comfort and privilege even in the lean last days of the USSR. He was about Ivan’s own age, but he had a self-possession and a gravitas that made him seem older. He had started training for a career in the Russian security services practically from childhood, and he had pegged Ivan as a particularly promising recruit. “You should come with me,” he said. “We would find an excellent career for you.”

Ivan was never sure how to respond when Morozov started talking like this. He admired the man and was admittedly attracted to him – not just the dark, elegant handsomeness, but the manifest air of being a person who mattered, who made the rest of the world sit up and take notice and play by his rules – and while he knew that Morozov was ruthless, he wasn’t bothered by that and was willing to do the same when it was called for. Ivan didn’t see the world as some nice candy fairy place where good deeds were always rewarded and violence was always wrong, not least since he knew full well that it didn’t work like that. He didn’t have time for these idiots who thought they would get out there and hold hands and change the world with the power of sunshine and kisses or whatever it was. He didn’t.

Then there was one night when Morozov was at Ivan’s apartment, and they had been drinking and making big plans for ruling the world behind the scenes, and Ivan forgot himself entirely and leaned over the table and kissed him. He tried to pull back almost at once, but Morozov didn’t resist. In fact, he leaned in and put a hand behind Ivan’s head and kept him there, and in that moment, Ivan knew that while this might not be personally objectionable for Sasha (his sexuality was undiscussed but evidently fluid), that wasn’t the reason he was going along with it. It was because he knew instinctively that it was a perfect way to control Ivan, to harness his attraction and his weakness and his willingness to go along with whatever Sasha wanted, and in that, despite all the big plans they had put together and the way Ivan had dreamed of his life changing, it was just Konstantin all over again, and Ivan was straight back at the factory on his knees, small and cornered and powerless. It was visceral and it was wrong and it wasn’t the best he would ever do and he wasn’t, he wasn’t taking that.

They pulled back and Sasha made an enquiring noise, like he wanted to know if Ivan was interested in sealing the deal, and instead Ivan ordered him to leave right now, get out. That was the end of their friendship; they never spoke to each other again, and when his third year in the army ran out, which he had already taken voluntarily, he left. He got a job at some Moscow industrial plant and it was there, through the friend of a friend, he met Nadia Zhabina. And it turned out that she was queer (the first time he had ever heard the word spoken in a good way, something he wanted to be, something he didn’t mind accepting, rather than as an attack), and it turned out after that that she had a friend she wanted him to meet, only it clearly meant that she thought they should go out. Like. On a date.

Ivan flatly shut her down. He did not date, he did not want to date, he did not think he would be good at dating, he did not want to meet some pansy city boy from Nizhny Novgorod who he would immediately dislike, and he was not going to do it, the end. Only Nadia really seemed disappointed, and maybe it was not the worst thing to try a little. This would backfire terribly, he would get over it, and move on with his life.

In Ivan’s opinion, the first date with Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky was, at least on his own behalf, a modest success. He was unavoidably late, thanks to the bus running behind schedule, but he introduced himself, his hobbies, and made it clear what sort of person he was and what he was interested in. He even sent a polite follow-up text with an invitation to meet again. There. No questions, no confusion, everything very straightforward and clear. Nothing to complain about. That was how you did a date, yes?

It turned out, however, that Fedyor Mikhailovich was either very reticent, or perhaps confused, or maybe he did not even know that they had been on a date and Nadia had not clearly explained to him. Burned by his experiences at home, knowing how easily word could get out to the wrong people, Ivan did not want to bring up the subject explicitly, but he had to admit to a considerable confusion. Maybe Fedyor actually liked to just mince around Moscow city parks together, like something out of a Tolstoy novel, or to sit on his couch and watch bad American action movies together. (Later, Ivan learned that Die Hard is actually something of a cult classic, but it’s still slightly lost on him.) That wasn’t bad, because Ivan – to his great bafflement and wariness – liked spending time with him. Fedyor wasn’t like him at all, but they clicked nonetheless. He was the exact kind of idealistic activist that Ivan had long disdained, but it was different with him. When Fedya talked, he liked to listen, to dream about a world that really did work that way. It didn’t, but it felt closer.

Besides that, he was cute. He was well-put together. He was charming and vivacious and could talk to people that they met, while Ivan stood scowling with his hands in his pockets and wondered how long this was going to take. He really desperately wanted to kiss Fedya (and for that matter, do other things to him), and he found himself thinking about it a lot. But what if it was like with Sasha again, and it was either Ivan opportunistically taking it for himself, or Fedya selfishly trying to keep him there, to use him for his own purposes? Maybe Fedya was the idiot. He had to know they were together, right? Or were they together? Ivan suddenly wasn’t sure. Damn it! Why didn’t Fedyor subscribe to the school of just being clear about things? Ivan himself had nothing to do with the problem.

But then there came that night, and Fedya cooking dinner and stumbling through trying to ask him if they were maybe something, and in that moment, Ivan found it all so hilarious that the only thing he could do was sit there and let the whole thing play out. Then it turned out, of course, that they were together, and that Fedyor kissed him just as deliciously as Ivan had imagined, and maybe Nadia Zhabina was not so wrong after all.

Maybe she was not wrong in the least.

Ivan takes his supermarket bags to the sunny kitchen of the mostly-remodeled apartment and sets them down. Fedya has picked out all the colors and wallpapers and furniture and paint, and Ivan has done most of the work, since he is gainfully employed as a handyman and repair-person and he doesn’t want to pay some American to half-ass a job that he can do better. The apartment is really quite lovely now. The living room has been done in a pale, springy green, the white plaster moldings washed and repaired, all the junk of the previous owner finally cleared out except for one or two collectibles that they decided to keep. There’s a bookshelf and a desk filled with Fedya’s work things, a couch and a television and a coffee table and new curtains. The bedroom is big and airy, with a ceiling fan and new carpets. Framed pictures and art pieces hang on the wall. It looks like a place where real people live.

Ivan makes breakfast, cooking and stirring and brewing the coffee, and puts it all on a tray. It’s Saturday, so of course Fedya is still asleep, and Ivan pads through the apartment to the closed bedroom door, balancing the tray on his hip long enough to open it and cast a strip of light inside. It takes a moment, but Fedyor rolls over, groggy and tousled and very, very cute with his bed-headed dark hair and squinting eyes. “Vanya? What smells so good?”

“Happy birthday, my love.” Ivan sets the tray on the bedside table and leans down to kiss him, as Fedyor makes a happy humming sound and throws his arms around Ivan’s neck, cuddling against him like a barnacle. “I have made you breakfast.”

(His younger self was wrong, and he has never been so glad of it.)

(This was the best, this is the best, this was waiting for him, this kind of happiness could happen for him, and he is grateful beyond all words that he fought for it and believed it until it did.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #fivan #ivan kaminsky #a phantom in enchanting light #pel asks #anonymous #ask #fivan ff

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batterycityghoul · 4 years ago

Text

Stay (Shane Walsh/Reader)

Summary: You think you’re saving yourself by leaving the group, but when Shane tracks you down, you realize you needed him all along.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author’s Note: I meant for this to be a drabble, but it did not turn out that way. :/

Masterlist / Read on AO3

You didn't realize you were planning on leaving the group until you were already gone.

It seemed like the group was constantly falling apart. First Merle went missing, presumed dead, which wasn't such a huge loss in your opinion. But then the group just kept losing people. Amy and Jim were lost to walkers while Morales decided to take his family and try their luck somewhere else. Jacqui opted out and Sophia was lost in the woods. And then Carl got shot.

The only thing the group seemed to have gained was Rick Grimes and you weren't entirely convinced that it was an even trade.

You were tired of losing the people you were starting to consider family. Surviving with the group was one thing, but you had become entwined in their lives as well. You knew Carl's favorite color and that Daryl wasn't a big fan of small-talk, but he seemed to enjoy someone's silent presence while he dressed and skinned the results of a successful day's hunt. You knew Glenn was in love with Hershel’s eldest daughter and that T-Dog secretly hated green peas.

You were becoming invested in their lives, but you didn’t know how much longer those lives would last. Death seemed to literally be around every corner, just waiting to snatch away someone else with greedy fingers and hungry moans.

You couldn't stomach watching Carol fall apart every night since the fate of her daughter was unknown. Add to that watching Carl, the kid who usually had a smile for everyone in the group, pale and defenseless from a gunshot wound, and you just couldn't take it anymore. You didn't want to watch the group divide and splinter with each passing day. You had reached your limit.

So, while you didn't mean to leave, it ended up being what you needed.

You told the group you were going for a walk and by the time you noticed you were a couple of miles away from the Greene farm, you realized you had no intention of turning back.

It was oddly freeing to know the only person you had to count on now was yourself. If you died, then that was your fault. If you were killed, then there would be no one to mourn you. You were cutting ties and saving yourself and the group any potential emotional damage.

You knew it was selfish to just wander off and never come back. You knew they would assume you were dead or worse. But you couldn't keep forging bonds just to have them get abruptly cut off every time the group faced a problem.

It took you a while to adapt. You had been lucky enough to leave with a machete and a hunting knife for protection. You had learned enough from watching Daryl that you could catch something to eat if you had to, but you had to admit that your supplies were running alarmingly low.

The backpack you had taken with you only had half a salvaged bottle of water and a granola bar. You didn't want to have to scavenge, but you knew it was your only option. You couldn't risk letting hunger or dehydration weaken you when you were constantly fearing and fighting for your life.

You lucked out by finding an abandoned convenience store on an otherwise desolate stretch of highway. You were sure you would be able to spot any walkers around for miles and if you were really lucky, then you could get in and out without any problems.

You made sure to keep your knife at the ready as you did a quick perimeter check. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was just the slightest bit off and while you knew you should probably listen to your gut instinct to leave, you couldn't really afford another night with minimal water and food.

You were glad to see that the store wasn't picked clean. You found a few sports drinks and canned items to add to your collection of supplies. There was an itch just under your skin that warned you to hurry up, so you quickly swiped a few candy bars from the meager offerings. It was as you were closing up your backpack that you heard it.

The sound of shuffling footsteps.

And they were heading right for you.

You lowered your backpack to the floor and whirled around, ready to kill the walker creeping up on you.

You thought you would be greeted with the sight of decaying flesh and starving, grasping fingers. Instead, you were surprised to see...

"Shane? What the hell are you doing here?"

Shane offered you a rueful grin, his hands up to show he wasn't a threat. "Well, I'm not a tracker like Dixon, but I did alright, didn't I?"

You frowned at him, your hand slowly lowering so you weren't quite pointing your knife in his direction. "Why were you tracking me in the first place?"

Shane shrugged his shoulders before he feigned interest in the shelf next to him. He reached out to pick up a lone packet of ramen and studied it. "You were one of the only ones with any damn sense. I figured if you were making a run for it, then I might as well find out why."

You shook your head, not knowing what to think. You had never really been close to Shane, but you appreciated what he brought to the group. He was a bit too ruthless, but you knew he would do absolutely anything to protect the people he cared about. That protection always covered the group to an extent, but you noticed only a few people seem to be the main focus of it.

"What about Carl?" You couldn't help but wonder, taking note of his grimace. "And Lori? Rick?"

Shane let out a humorless chuckle, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Seems like I wasn't going to be missed all that much for at least a few days. So, I reckoned I'd come after you."

You quirked an eyebrow at him before finally reaching for your backpack on the floor. "How'd you know I wasn't dead?"

"You’re smarter than that, Y/N," Shane pointed out with a smirk. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt."

"Thanks," you muttered before you brushed past him. "You've seen I'm alive for yourself, so you can head back to the farm now."

"Thought I'd stick around for a bit," Shane offered as he moved to follow you. "Came here on foot and it was a long journey. I'm not too eager to make it again."

You glanced at him over your shoulder before you sighed. The reason you left the group was so that you wouldn't have to worry about anyone else. With Shane here, you could already feel that persistent need to make sure he was safe creeping back in.

When you got outside, you noticed Shane stop briefly to scoop up a duffel bag, before he followed after you. "So, you got a plan? Know where you're going?"

"Not at all," you answered honestly as you glanced around to make sure you weren't going to be surprised by any walkers.

You heard Shane huff out an amused breath, but he dutifully followed you when you took off in the direction of the woods on the other side of the highway.

You kept expecting Shane to leave. He had checked on you, made sure you were fine, so why was he still sticking around?

As days passed and you got used to having Shane around every hour of the day and night, you started to realize a few things about him.

He had a devious nature about him, but he was also kind and caring. He seemed to notice little things that you would have never thought important. He fully expected for you to take care of yourself, but he always had your back. He was playful and all-too-serious in turns, but he never made you feel like you couldn’t trust him.

You weren't sure when it happened, but you found yourself looking forward to nightfall. With walkers around, night could mean low visibility and lethal surprises, but it also meant you got to see a softer side of Shane.

Instead of spending your nights fearing the dead, you found a solace in Shane you had never experienced before. He seemed to unwind when it was just the two of you in the quiet of the night.

Whenever a chill swept in, you would risk a small fire for warmth. You would sit huddled together, seeking heat from the fire and each other, and Shane would talk.

He told you about his former days as a sheriff's deputy. He recounted tales from his days in high school when he would prank his principal or get into trouble with Rick. He confessed to his affair with Lori and how it tore him up to be away from Carl. He told you about his slow falling out with most of the group in the days after your departure.

Hearing his voice in the otherwise silent night was what started to carry you through the day.

You started craving his company during those quiet, intimate moments when it started to truly feel like you were the last two people alive.

You assumed Shane still planned on going back to the group. It didn't seem to matter to him that the both of you were traveling farther away from the Greene farm. He missed Carl and was still pining away for Lori. Of course he was going to go back to them. How could you possibly compare?

It didn't take you long to realize you would miss him when he finally decided to leave you.

There was a day, only a couple of weeks after Shane found you, when it seemed like there was a group of walkers everywhere you turned.

"Must be getting close to a city," Shane guessed as he reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow. He frowned at the grime and dried walker blood on his arms. "We should find somewhere to wash up."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, silently challenging him to find you a place to take a decent bath. With no home base, it wasn't like you had steady access to a water source. You got so desperate just a week ago that you bathed during a downpour and pretended it was a shower. It made you miss the few moments you got to enjoy the relative comfort and safety of the CDC before Jenner blew it up.

"Come on," he coaxed as he nodded a bit off the path. "Bet I can find us some place before it gets too late."

You frowned up at the slowly darkening sky before you conceded with a sigh.

To your delight, Shane managed to lead you towards a small creek.

"It's not much, but it'll do the job," Shane said before he started to strip out of his shirt. You noticed he kept his underwear on once he took off for the water. He had a bar of soap in one hand and your machete in the other as he carefully stepped around rocks and twigs. "Come on, Y/N. Not much daylight left to find us a shelter," he reminded you before he waded into the water.

You couldn't help but watch him for a moment before you sighed and made sure you couldn't spot any walkers. You were always worried they would catch you at your most vulnerable moment and stripped down to just your underwear with only Shane to back you up seemed like a bad idea. But, you realized as you stepped cautiously into the water, you trusted Shane with your life. If he thought it was a good idea, then you were going to take him at his word.

You heard Shane chuckle and when you glanced up, it was to notice he was considering you from just a few feet away.

"Come on, girl. It's not like I'm gonna bite. You've been getting pretty rank these past couple of days. You need to wash off more than I do."

You caught the smirk on his face and the way his eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Fuck you, Shane," you muttered before you glanced down to the water circling your thighs. You tipped your head back up to look at him, raising an eyebrow, before you slowly reached down to cup some water in your hands.

"Oh, no you don't, girl," Shane quipped as he took a few steps away from you. "Don't even think about it."

You couldn't help the pleased grin on your face as you flung the water in his direction. It didn't quite have the impact you wanted, but it seemed to set off a few carefree moments with Shane in which you both splashed each other relentlessly with water.

Shane finally conceded defeat when you managed to catch him off-guard and dunk him under the water.

"Uncle, uncle," Shane cried when he resurfaced. He spat out a mouthful of water and shook his head. "You've got a mean streak to you, do you know that?"

"I was the youngest kid," you told him as you finally moved to scrub off the dirt clinging stubbornly to your arms. "I had to learn how to fight for myself."

"Huh," Shane breathed as he followed your lead and started getting clean as well. "Didn't know that about you."

You shrugged your shoulders, offering him a helpless grin. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"I guess that's true," Shane remarked before he started slowly making his way back towards the shore. "We should probably head on," he added as he moved towards his discarded pile of clothes. "It's going to be dark soon."

You sighed, knowing he was right, before you joined in him getting redressed. You hated the way your clothes stuck to you, but you didn't have the luxury of waiting to dry off. You had to find some kind of shelter if you could before night fell.

Later, as you sat close to Shane and tried to soak in the warmth from the fire, you couldn't help but think back on the past couple of weeks with him.

You thought you were better off alone, but you realized you needed him.

Who was going to make you smile or laugh while you were fighting for your life every day? Who was going to watch your back or distract you with tales of his former glory days? Who was going to push you to walk just a bit farther when it seemed like you'd never want to walk again? Who was going to remind you that there was still life out there among the dead?

Shane. It was only Shane.

You couldn't handle the thought of him leaving you anymore. If he left, then you would spend the rest of your days thinking about him and missing him.

You found yourself reaching out for his hand and tangling your fingers together. You felt him startle as he glanced to you in surprise.

"Y/N?"

His voice was so soft and wondering that you couldn't help the hopeful smile you offered him.

"Stay?"

For one disheartening moment, you thought he was going to disagree. He was quiet for just a beat too long before a pleased grin slowly formed on his face.

"I didn't plan on going anywhere without you," he assured you before he squeezed your hand.

You couldn't help but watch him as he turned back towards the fire, feeling a little breathless and awestruck.

When Shane didn't let go of your hand, you found yourself thinking that maybe there was more to the apocalypse than simply surviving. Maybe forging and keeping a connection wasn't the worst thing you could possibly do. You had been so terrified of losing all you held dear, but with Shane at your side and his warmth pressed along your side chasing away the evening chill, you knew you instead gained everything you needed.

And you were going to hold onto that for as long as you possibly could.

#the walking dead #twd #shane walsh #shane walsh/reader #shane walsh x reader #reader #reader insert #shane walsh imagine #female reader

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

Text

Farmer Jaune #1

AN: here’s a little background for you people, places, or things, I love Stardew Valley... That’s all.

Summary: Jaune takes a bet with his father that if he can get the old family farm up in running he’ll have shown enough dedication to be a huntsman.

Forteen year old Jaune stood in front of ‘The Club’ at lunch time carrying large crate of assorted fruits on his left shoulder for this Junior guy to try, while in his right he played on his scroll while the two bouncers out front refused to let him in.

Sure, he could barge in, but that’d be rude and create a bad impression on a potential buyer. So the stuck up suits could glare at him all they wanted, he’d wait till Junior saw him or picked up his scroll, or they finally let him in.

Huh, who knew Spruce Willis liked to garden, another reason to look to the guy as a man among men.

The two suits kept a steady glare on the boy with bangs covering the his right eye, only leaving a single blue orb to stare at his scroll. He was all lean muscle, tanned skin, and sun-bleached hair package up in a dirt stained tee and blue jeans.

They’re were sure that they could take him, and there were no notices about a fruit shipments, so they were ready to put down a scam-artist if they had too. Though, if he was a scam-artist he really was easy going.

“So, ‘Mr. Arc’,” One of the suits said as sarcastically as possible.

“Just Jaune.” Jaune said boredom, hoping Junior wasn’t messing with him, if he was he’d have to sic dad on him.

The guards snicker. “Ok Just Jaune,” Jaune rolls his single visible eye. “What do you got in the crate?” “Are you mugging me? Because if you are that’s just lame, it’s a crate full of fruit, how poor are you if need to mug a man for fruit? Delicious, juicy fruit sure, but just fruit.” Jaune say rapid-fire without looking up from him scroll.

The suit who spoke up went flush with anger at the insinuation, he worked for the damn mob! He made very good illegal money! He didn’t even recorded it to the irs that’s how bad he was!

Suit two just snickered at his friend. “I think what my buddy meant was what do have in the box to sell to the boss, and why do you think he’d buy from you over importing from Mistral or bulk buying from the Agri-Dis?”

Jaune rolled his eye again. “For the fourth time he asked me to bring him a crate, which I would have delivered to him by now, and gotten some lunch to if you two lumper didn’t get in the way.”

“And for the fourth time your not on the list, so try sell us on your product and we might let you in!” The first suit said exsperated. “Also why not just eat some produce?”

Jaune shrugged. “Same reason, I’m going to refuse to sell any to you two right now, cause I have things called standards. I always include a little extra on the orders so that people know their appreciated! If I took that away, it’d ruin the magic!”

Jaune then said with a smile, “That said if you’re interested, I can give my website to place an order, and little peak of the goods too.” Jaune said wiggling an eyebrow.

The second suit let out a tired sigh, knowing that this would be long day already. “Ok, back to my second question first, why would anyone buy from you some dirty looking kid from outside the city walls, instead of the nice clean stalls at the Agri-Dis? Also, I make good money wouldn’t I just import good food from Mistral or Vacuo?”

“Ok, find you’ve worn me down fine. Ok first, the Agric-Dis’s food is abysmal grown for two thing!” Jaune said putting away his scroll, and then holding up two finger making them glow with the light of his soul, making both guards jump at the realization this boy was also a hunter in training. “Bulk production, and fast regrowth speed, they inject Earth dust into the soil to make it more fertile, and genetically mod the plants so they grow as fast as possible and big as possible with account for taste! Which to be fair isn’t a bad thing, the city is overpopulated as is, and the Agri-Dis needs to feed everyone, and neither dust usage or gene mods are intrinsically bad, just that bulk produce doesn’t always taste as good as growing something with love and care!”

The two suits inched back in shock at Jaunes passionate rant, and the first suit recovered faster and asked. “Alright, you’ve made a good point. But what about outsourcing production to Mistral or Oasis in Vacuo? They’re food is really good!”

Jaune held a finger as he regained his breath.

“Ok, that’s a fair point, Vacuo has a warmer climate than Vale so it’s easier to grow more crop in season there in certain areas, and Mistral has the same benefit, but, it’s not the food that bad but the prices, and time you have to wait in between shipments.”

The suits leaned in with interest.

“This also has a couple problems, compared to my products.” Jaune holding up his free hand, letting it glow freely to attract the suits attention. “First, is the price you’d paying is roughly three time as much as my own for virtually the same product.” Jaune said slowly and methodically, letting it sink into the mens minds, he’d never let a potential customer get away, even if they were goons.

“Second is bidding, when you order from out of kingdom your have to compete with everyone else who wants that food, which also is reason the price is higher they can afford to hike it because it’s in demand, so since it’s in demand that means people want it, which implies scarcity, so even if you place an order there no garuntee that they’ll have any left for you.“ “I never thought of that way when I saw the restock sign...” “Most people don’t, in fact most people don’t care about the quality of the food long as it’s good and edible. So like I said limited supply, right? Well, right now I have tons of food to sell, I won’t be running out either,” Jaune said with a smirk, “but for how long? Anyway, another problem if your foods coming from outside the kingdom means that it’s coming outside the kingdom, this is two probelm. One, you’re weakening the local market, while strengthening foreign market, and you don’t want freaking Vacuo to be stronger than Vale in anyway right?” Jaune asked slyly.

“No..”

“The other problems with outsourcing from out of kingdom, is the shorter shelf lift, shipping takes time, you know this, you’re smart guys right?”Jaune asked the men, who quickly nodded. “Well, you should know that caravans only come so often, there could be month in-between you ordering your product and actually getting it! So your food could be moldy and black!”

The suits looked at each other, remembering the bosses fits of rage about a ruined order of fruit, and their own bad experiences with outsourcing. Conveinently forgeting this only happened once or twice, out of the hundreds of times they’ve ordered.

Jaune continued, “The final problem is it’s outside the kingdom anything can happen! Bandits, grimm, White Fang, Then Bam!” Jaune punctuating by slamming his hand against the crate. “You just lost three hundred lien by ordering from freaking Vacuo, what the hell you’d expect from ordering from those them, it’s all gone now! And it’s all your fault from ordering from Vacuo!” Jaune said quickly, and almost out of breath.

The men scowled at the idea of letting Vacuo pull a fast one on proud Valemen like themselves.

“Now, on the other hand my produce is loved and cared for only a mere half hour away in hunter protected settlement of Stardew Valley. Barring in-climate weather, or Grimm, I will have your product, if it’s ready for shipping out, to you within a week or you get the shipping free! Bam!” Jaune slammed his hand on the box again. “You just cut your grocery bill by a two-thirds!”

Silence then filled the gap again.

“So, did I answer you gentlemen’s questions?” Jaune asked with a slightly sore throat.

“I think I’ll be taking a look at your scrollsite later today,” The second suit said, then smiles thinly. “I just hope you’re not exaggerating, but regardless you got me rethinking my spending habits!”

The men and boy let out a little chuckle.

“Alright how about I let you two see what it’s in the crate to see proof of product.” Jaune said easing the crate on two the ground, easily being twice as wide as his waist, and coming up to his torso.

The men gave a shrug.

Jaune undid the latch on the crate and opened it up, assulting the men with sweet, starchy, and delcious smells of produce, their mouths involuntarily starting to water at the sight of fresh cherries, ripe melons, golden-yellow corn, full and juicy blackberries, tart and sweet blueberries, the spicy red hot peppers, ripe to bursting tomatos, and the most robust coffee they’ve ever smelt.

Jaune then slammed the lid closed a minute later, and put the crate onto his shoulder.

“Arc! What are you doing here? I told you to meet me at noon, and I’d meet you at the Club, not for you to wait for me outside the Club for an hour.”

“Dad say “If you’re early you’re on time, if you’re on time you’re late, if you’re late, everybody’s dead and you’ve lost your huntsman license.”

“Whatever, just follow me in, and we’ll hash out the deal today.” Junior looked at his men. “I’m not mad, you did well.”

“I’m not mad either, just bored.” Jaune said slipping in.

.....

“So, you wanna go half in, on a order?” “Why not? All that talking got me hungry.”

#Jaune Arc #Farmer Jaune AU #I have no idea about economics #I just typed what ever to feel smart #I have no regrets.#Junior #Stardew Valley

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years ago

Text

The Other You - 10

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Being a physics teacher, Adrien was used to solving problems. Yet, finding a competent assistant for Marinette fast enough was proving to be more difficult than he’d ever thought possible.

Sure, there were hundreds of applications and resumes stored in Gabriel’s database but none of the qualified people contacted in the last two days had agreed to come for an interview. Most had already had a job. Others, though jobless, were not willing to give a seemingly doomed company a chance.

Adrien shouldn’t despair though… or at least, that what his HR manager had said as he left for the day. Surely, tomorrow they would find a person crazy enough to jump on board. They might need a little training and time to work on their skills but at least they would be there. Right?

Adrien sighed, leaning into his chair. No. Marinette needed a professional, not a student to teach right now. At any other time, that might have worked but not this close to the show that bore her professional future on its metaphorical shoulders.

Adrien glanced at the clock. Half an hour until nine. A smile found its way on his face, his mouth salivating from just the memory. Yesterday’s meal was the best he’d had in a long time. Marinette was an amazing cook. Adrien knew his cuisine. He could recognize quality when he tasted it.

“Time to go.” Adrien stretched, standing up. “Ready, guys?”

“What’s the rush?” Plagg yawned, lazily flying out of his basket. “You need five minutes to get there, tops.”

“We need to drop by a store and my apartment first.”

“What for?” the kwami grumbled. “Didn’t you run enough today?”

“I thought it’d be polite for us to bring a dessert,” Adrien replied. “And Duusu needs more grapes.”

“Yippie!” The peacock kwami flew out from one of the shelves, doing a flip in midair. “Can I get the sweet green kind with a little pinkish tint on them?”

“They are called Cotton Candy, Duusu,” Nooroo said, getting out of his pile of fabric. “And they're not in season now. You know that.”

“But what if they are?”

“They are not.”

“But what if they are?”

“Duusu—”

“If they’re in stock, I’ll make sure to buy you enough for a week,” Adrien interrupted, putting on his jacket. “Otherwise, I’ll stock on a variety for you to try. Sounds good?”

“Yes!” Duusu squealed. “Thank you! You’re the best Master ever!”

“Nooroo, you can take some of those cuts before we leave. I noticed you like them.”

Nooroo’s eyes lit up. “You’re so generous, Master! Thank you!” He dove into the pile to gather as many pieces of silk as he could.

Plagg huffed, rolling his eyes. “Nuisances. Did we really have to take them with us? They would’ve been perfectly fine staying home. Better yet dormant back in their miraculouses.”

“They’ve been isolated for long enough,” Adrien replied. “I think they deserve some freedom for once.”

“Not at the expense of my peace,” Plagg grumbled.

Adrien reached over and scratched his kwami under the chin, evoking an involuntary purr from him. “You’ll benefit from being around other kwamis, Plagg. Maybe then you’ll become less grumpy.”

“Being grumpy is not art just anyone can muster,” Plagg mumbled under his breath, flying into Adrien’s bag. Duusu and Nooroo, with his pile of silk cuts, joined him a moment later. Adrien turned the light off and walked out of the office. After a quick visit to a nearby grocery store, he transformed around the corner and headed home to drop off Nooroo and Duusu. Appeasing the kwamis with food and Netflix, Adrien changed into his loungewear so he’d be able to just plop into a bed right after Marinette’s, then headed off to collect his rent fee.

At exactly nine o’clock, Chat Noir knocked on her window.

“Good evening, Chat,” she greeted with a smile.

Chat grinned and inhaled, stepping into the room. Delicious. His mouth watered. “What’s for dinner?”

“Quiche Lorraine.”

“Sounds yummy. Smells heavenly.”

She giggled. “It is yummy. Go wash your paws while I set the table.”

Chat obeyed, though it was awkward at best to wash his gloved hands, but he supposed it was justified, seeing as he touched all kinds of surfaces on his way here. As he settled down in front of a steaming slice of quiche, Chat could hardly contain his excitement. This genius rent fee was his best idea ever. Period. “Itadakimasu.”

Marinette snickered, putting a slice of quiche on her plate. “Careful, Chat. Your weeb’s showing.”

He grinned. “But it’s you. You know all my flaws already. I don’t have to pretend.”

She cocked her head to the side. “I thought you would have overgrown that stage by now.”

Chat gasped dramatically. “You can never outgrow the wonder that is anime! It’s not a phase. It’s a part of me! How could you imply so, Princess?”

Marinette laughed. “Alright, alright. Eat before you choke on your drool.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Chat grinned before stuffing his mouth full of what he immediately judged to be the food of angels. “This is good. Very good. I could live off this my whole life.”

Marinette started on her own meal. “I learned my quiches from Papa. He’s the real deal when it comes to those. Mine aren’t up to his standard yet.”

“Says who? I remember your dad’s pies. They were delicious, but they weren’t better. In fact, in addition to being delicious, this quiche is also somehow different. There is something distinctly yours about it. So don’t you go selling yourself short.”

“You think so?”

He nodded. “You could make a fortune selling these. Marinette the Quiche Queen. I can see it now.”

Marinette laughed. “Dork. Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Then tell me how your day was while I indulge myself in this heavenly food.”

Marinette frowned, shifting her eyes to the side immediately.

“That bad?”

She nodded. “Since my assistant quit, I have to do twice the work now. And I was already struggling to keep up with my own portion. That’s why I’d stay overtime to finish whatever I couldn’t during the day, but now I can’t do even that so I’m falling behind already, and it’s only the first day.”

“Because of me and my rent fee?”

She shook her head. “Even if I didn’t have to cook for you, today my new boss enforced a curfew for us to leave the premises at the end of each working day. I have to be out of the building by eight or risk being sent on a mandatory day off the next day. And if that happens, I’ll fall even further behind which means Gabriel’s women’s line won’t make it to Paris' Fashion Week at the end of summer.”

“It’s good for your health and sanity, though, no? To get enough rest.”

“Not if I spend all of my ‘rest’ time worrying sick over not finishing my collection on time and losing my job, possibly my career, as a result,” Marinette grumbled. “Stupid curfew. Stupid Adrien. It’s like he doesn’t care in the slightest. Then, why should he care? Gabriel’s men’s line is on time and looks good. Adrien has nothing to worry about. It’s not like his whole future career hangs on that damned line.”

“I’m sure he realizes how important this is for you,” Chat said carefully. “Maybe he’s just trying to prevent you from killing yourself by introducing this curfew? Overworking and exhaustion can kill you, you know.”

“Then he could’ve just hired a new assistant for me instead,” Marinette murmured. “It would’ve been more effective.”

“And I’m sure he’s realizing that too and I won’t be surprised if he’s trying to find you one as fast as he can.”

Marinette fell silent as they continued to eat. When her plate was clean, she quietly added. “Sorry for being a downer. It’s just that… my whole career, my entire future is tied to that stupid line and this upcoming Paris Fashion Week. It will either make me or break me and after how much I’ve invested in this already… I’m not sure if I can handle the failure.”

Chat reached out, putting his hand over Marinette’s. “If I can help in any way, just tell me.”

She lifted her eyes full of tears to him, a sad smile on her lips. “You’re already helping, Chat. You gave me a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in. And honestly, this ridiculous rent fee of yours is kind of a godsend. I always enjoyed cooking. It helps me relax after a stressful day and knowing I have a friend to share my dinner with gives me the strength to hang on. So, thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” Chat shoved the last piece of his quiche in his mouth. “It’s not like I am not the one benefiting from this arrangement the most. Can I have one more slice, please?”

Marinette giggled, ruffling his hair. “Sure. And I’ll pack you some to take home.”

He closed his eyes in delight. “Thank you. Now I don’t have to admit I was already thinking of ways to beg you for thirds. This is undoubtedly the best meal I’ve had in the past few years.”

“Speaking of meals,” Marinette perked. “There is one good thing Adrien did with all the changes he’d implemented today.”

Chat quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it?”

“Well, I have no idea why since Gabriel is a huge company but his father never had a cafeteria on site. We had to either go out for lunch or bring our own, and with all the stress and rush, I did tend to forget my meals until I was starving. But then with all the work on my plate, I wouldn’t have time to go out, so I’d settle for a snack from a vending machine. But today, Adrien announced that starting tomorrow, we’ll have our own cafeteria with freshly cooked meals on-site. The best part—the company pays. All employees get food for free.”

“Wow,” Chat tried to look surprised. “Isn’t Gabriel in trouble? How can he afford that?”

“I have no idea,” Marinette replied. “But I’m not complaining. It’ll be nice to eat normal meals again.”

Chat Noir smirked. Money wasn’t an issue. Having a cafeteria on-site didn’t cost as much as everyone thought, and his father had left behind a far bigger fortune than anyone had realized. It was only fair that some of it would go into replenishing the health of employees who’d sacrificed their wellbeing catering to his father’s every whim.

But!

Marinette thought he had a good idea! Huh! What happened to that annoyed and grumpy Marinette that glared at him at this morning’s meeting when he gathered his lead employees and announced new implementations?

“Seems like this new boss of yours isn’t so awful after all. Those new rules don't sound too bad.”

“Free food—yes, not bad at all. Curfews—no. Burn them with fire.”

Chat cocked his head to the side. “I suspect there is a reason you’re huffy about the curfew. Don’t tell me you were planning to sneak back in to work after feeding me?”

Marinette stilled for a brief moment, then cleared her throat. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you think such a thing? Are you done with that?” She pointed to his plate, standing up.

“Marinette, no,” Chat sighed, now reassured he’d made the right decision with that curfew. It seemed ridiculous to enforce it in the first place since all but Marinette left work at a decent hour, but it was the only way Adrien could think of forcing Marinette to go home and rest. “Please, promise me you won’t do that. You have all day for work. At night, you need to rest. You already collapsed once. Let’s not repeat that.”

“Don’t worry, Chat. I wouldn’t sneak back in.” Marinette shrugged. “I can’t afford to get caught and be sent home for a day. Not this close to my goal, but—” she smirked, “—a curfew doesn’t mean I can’t take work home, right?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” Chat sighed, standing up. “I’d better get going then. We wouldn’t want you to spend all your evening entertaining me and then lose sleep working.”

“You know if not for work, I’d totally kick your ass in a video game now.”

“Well, then let’s hope your boss will find you an assistant soon, so you’ll have free time to do that.”

“Let’s do that.”

Marinette packed him half of the leftover quiche and half of the macarons he’d brought her, both of them agreeing that they were too full after the main meal to have dessert right away. Then, she promised him not to stay up too late, and with that Chat Noir departed. He did have a patrol to get to.

Chat stopped at a nearby roof, wondering if he should even bother with patrolling. Hawkmoth was gone. So was Mayura. Whatever small crime was going on, the police could handle it. Paris didn’t need Ladybug and Chat Noir anymore. They didn’t have to patrol. They could go back to a somewhat normal life. Take those masks off. Maybe, finally, start a relationship. They could be free.

He only wished he could tell that to Ladybug.

But…

That sort of revelation would entail a conversation Adrien wasn’t sure he was ready for yet. He would eventually… if only because Nooroo and Duusu needed to go back to the Guardian. But not now. Not yet. He needed time to wrap his mind around it all himself first before opening up to someone else. It pained him to keep a secret from his Lady. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look her in the eye next time they met, but what could he do? How would he explain? Would she understand the shame and anger and confusion that was consuming him?

His baton beeped.

Ladybug: I hope you’re enjoying the weather, Chaton, and I’m sorry to ask, but would it be okay for me to miss a few more days? Work’s gotten harder for me to manage.

Chat Noir: Of course, my Lady. Take all the time you need.

Ladybug: I really am sorry. Message me if something happens.

Chat Noir: Not a problem. Good luck with your work! Hope it goes well.

Ladybug: Thanks. I’ll see you in a few days. <3

Chat Noir: <3

That settled it. Patrol abandoned, Chat Noir headed straight home. Once back at his apartment, he detransformed and plopped on his bed.

“Are you alright, Master?” Nooroo asked, floating closer.

“He’s fine,” Plagg grumbled from nearby. “It’s his normal state of brooding.”

“Are you sure?” Duusu frowned from his place in front of Adrien’s laptop. “My wielders—”

“Your miraculous was broken at the time, Duusu, wasn’t it?” Plagg rolled his eyes. “I know my kitten, and I’m telling you he’s fine.”

“I am fine,” Adrien decided to end the argument before it started. “Just tired. Lots of work. Lots of things I have to think about.”

Once again trying to concede his own father was Hawkmoth, Adrien’s mind raced to the events of the past. Little details. Tiny hints. Bigger slip-ups. How could he never have suspected anything? Even Ladybug figured him out that one time until…

“Say, Nooroo?” Adrien turned over and propped himself up to lean on his elbows. “If my father was Hawkmoth, how could he be akumatized? The Collector?”

“It can be done,” Nooroo nodded. “The butterfly wielder’s power is to give supernatural abilities to anyone, including themselves.”

“As long as there are strong negative emotions, right? That’s what we gathered over the years.”

Nooroo shook his head. “Not necessarily. Your father searched for people who were upset and angry because they were easier to manipulate. But when he akumatized himself or Mme Nathalie, for example, neither of them had strong negative emotions, just a goal in mind.”

“Wait!” Adrien sat up. “Nathalie? Are you saying Nathalie knew and was helping him?”

Nooroo lowered his eyes, glancing at Duusu, who promptly bowed his head.

Gears clicking in his head, Adrien stared in shock at the peacock kwami. His eyes bulged. “Mayura… Nathalie was Mayura, wasn’t she?”

Neither kwami spoke. Neither looked at Adrien.

Silence enveloped the room, no one daring to move or say anything until a quiet why slipped Adrien’s lips.

“We don’t have a choice but to follow the orders of our masters,” Nooroo mumbled.

Adrien shook his head. “I know that. I don’t blame you. I just… I don’t understand. Why would Father want to terrorize the city in his spare time? Why would Nathalie… She was… Why would she help him? Why would she know and do nothing about it? I just can’t…”

“For your mother,” Duusu spoke, flying closer. “Your mother was her best friend and your father had a special place in her heart. Everything she did was for them.”

“My mom?” Adrien frowned. “What does Mom have to do with all of this? She disappeared when I was fourteen…” His eyes widened as he sucked in the air. “A few months before Hawkmoth first attacked.” Looking straight at the butterfly and peacock kwami, he pressed his lips together. “What am I missing? Tell me everything.”

Nooroo glanced at Duusu before murmuring, “I don’t think that’s—”

Adrien stood up, a tight, uncomfortable feeling gripping at his chest. “This is my family we’re talking about, my father and his assistant who terrorized this city and tried to kill me for years, supposedly for my mother. Don’t you think I have the right to know?”

“Spill it, guys,” Plagg said, flying to sit on Adrien’s shoulder. “I’m rather interested myself.”

Duusu lowered his head even further as Nooroo sighed and gave in, disclosing to Adrien the story of a young Gabriel and Emilie, two adventurers in love who found Duusu and him buried under the snow on a random Tibetan mountain on one of their expeditions. They brought them back to Paris, Gabriel choosing Nooroo as Emilie favoured Duusu. Only the peacock miraculous was broken and an unfortunate accident soon after left Emilie in a magical coma.

“She didn’t disappear?” Adrien whispered, his head feeling dizzier and dizzier with every word that left Nooroo’s mouth.

The kwami shook his head. “Your father put her on life support and hid her in the basement under your house.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “No. That can’t be.”

“He hoped that by obtaining Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses he’d be able to bring her back to life.”

“Why didn’t he take her to a hospital? They could’ve saved her.”

“A coma caused by magic cannot be resolved by human medicine,” Nooroo sighed.

“No.” Adrien backed away, shaking his head. “This can’t be right. You’re mistaken. My mom disappeared when I was fourteen. They pronounced her legally dead a few years ago. We even had a funeral! I attended that funeral! Don’t tell me she’s still in a coma in the basement of my father’s house!”

“She’s not,” Nooroo replied. “There was a really bad rainy season a few weeks before that funeral. The basement flooded. The system that kept her alive was damaged. The back-up sustained substantial water damage as well and couldn’t kick in when her life support failed. Every minute counted, and your father and Nathalie were both out of the house that day. When they got back, it was already too late.”

Nooroo paused for a moment, letting his words settle in before adding, “Your mother’s coffin at her funeral wasn’t closed because it was empty. It was because your father had no way of explaining how after years of claiming his wife was missing, he suddenly had her body, looking just as young as the day she’d disappeared. I’m sorry, Adrien.”

Stunned, Adrien continued to shake his head, his feet and hands going cold. A chill ran down his spine, skin tingling with discomfort as he struggled to breathe. “No. You’re lying.”

“Kwamis can’t lie,” Duusu whispered. “We can avoid saying things but we can’t lie.”

“No,” Adrien kept repeating. “This… this can’t be true.”

“That’s why Hawkmoth vanished around that same time,” Nooroo said. “Your father had no one to save anymore.”

“No!” Adrien swore under his breath, turning away. This was too much. His mom had still been alive all those years. In a coma but still alive. His father fought them all that time to save her? Was it even possible? Ladybug explained the whole “ultimate wish” to him once, and if Adrien remembered correctly it was more of an ‘equal exchange’ deal than a wish. Was his father aware? He must have been. He had that book on miraculouses. Was he then ready to sacrifice another life for Mom? Someone just as dear to him?

Nathalie?

Or him?

His head spun, stomach violently churning. He leaned against the wall. Neither of those choices made it right. Mom would’ve never wanted that. She’d hate him for doing so. Heck! She’d snatch those miraculouses off him and reverse the wish! Adrien could see it even now. Fierce, always ready to defend justice, and immeasurably kind. His mother was his role model. And as much as Adrien would love to see her again, he knew she’d never let someone else die for her sake. Father should’ve known it as well. How could he claim to have loved her if he was ready to violate something so fundamental to her beliefs? And at a price she’d never agreed to pay?

“Adrien?” Plagg appeared in front of his face, looking rather distressed himself.

Adrien raised his watering eyes to his kwami. “He was a monster,” he whispered. “He was insane. I need… I need to go. Plagg, claws out!

A bright flash of green and Chat Noir sprinted across Paris, not bothering to choose a direction. He just ran. Ran until he collapsed from exhaustion on a random roof, unable to contain his tears anymore.

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#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #marichat #the other you #miraculous #ml #angst with happy ending #Adrien needs hugs #myart #my art

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chaosride · 3 years ago

Text

A Divine Appointment (x7)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

“You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance.” — Franklin P. Jones

Their next weekly Wicked Grace night was interesting. Anders had tried to beg off with the reasoning of not wanting to leave the kids alone all night at the clinic, and Varric had easily told him to bring the kids with him. Anders had expected Norah to run them off, as the owner had made it clear that the Hanged Man was a place for drinking and gambling. However that night Norah had just waved them through towards the stairs to Varric’s quarters. At Anders’ questioning look, Norah shrugged.

“New management,” was all she told him.

It was really all the explanation needed; the Hanged Man changed hands so often between the shadier figures of Kirkwall’s underground that they were under new management every other week it seemed. It was something that made Varric rhapsodize about how the Hanged Man deserved a better owner, someone who knew what they were doing and deserved her. It was no secret that the someone the dwarf had in mind was himself. Anders hoped he wouldn’t be too irritable about it tonight- it made him ruthless in cards.

Varric, however, was cheerful as ever when they got to his room. Hawke, Fenris and Isabela were already there. Aveline was going to come later after her patrol and had asked to bring Donnic along. They chatted as Anders settled at the table with them, allowing the twins to sit in his lap when neither would tolerate being put down. He rolled his eyes as Isabela cooed at them but allowed Cahir to go to her regardless. Primarily because he knew who the boy was really wanting to go to. He chuckled when Isabela called Cahir a traitor when he immediately began squirming in her hold, trying to get to Fenris. The elf let out a very put upon sigh but he was smiling when he took Cahir from her.

“You are very determined, I’ll give you that,” Fenris told Cahir.

The boy had settled down once in Fenris’ lap. Anders determinedly did not stare at them together; Cahir was skittish and didn’t like to be held by many people. He sought out even fewer as actively as he went to Fenris anytime the warrior was around. The sight of them made Anders want things to be different, despite the fact that he had more than he ever expected to. So instead he determinedly pulled the tie free from Cat’s hair and rebraided her curly red hair so it was away from her little face. Anders had learned if he didn’t she would pull at it until it came out in clumps in her small fists.

The mage had worried that the kids would get bored, but he supposed he should have known better. The entire group had learned to sit still and entertain themselves in order to avoid unneeded attention. Even the twins, young as they were, seemed to have learned it, sitting quietly with them at the table and watching them play with curious eyes. Tanner, Rosalyn and Bree had settled on the open stretch of floor a little away from the table, talking quietly amongst themselves as they played some game they had created with pebbles Tanner had produced from his pocket. Raelnor had sat with them at the table at Hawke’s merry invitation for him to join the game.

Anders had thought the entire walk over that he should bring something for them to do but he didn’t have anything. At the clinic they normally chased each other around or played games together but unlike other children they didn’t get loud or unruly without his attention on them really. The older of the kids had become quite adept at entertaining their younger siblings when no adults were around to mind the toddlers, and with them occupied were happy to sit quietly together all evening.

In the end they hadn’t even made it through an entire round before it clearly bothered Varric too much to continue. He laid his cards down despite it being his turn and stood up.

“Y’know, I got a cousin who owns a toy shop, I’m sure I’ve got some of his stuff around here,” he had said.

To anyone who didn’t know him, it would have been a convincing lie but Anders knew there wasn’t a single member of Varric’s family with any such business. The lie was confirmed with how quickly the rogue located the box of toys he presented to the children to go through. Raelnor was watching him with the same puzzled face he used to direct at Anders; bafflement at someone doing them a kindness with no expectation of anything in return.

Bree, the sweetheart that she was, had brought over a small selection of toys for the twins to choose from, showing first Cat then Cahir the ones she had thought they would like. Cahir had latched onto a small rattle drum which he clumsily waved until Fenris gently corrected his grip and showed him how to roll it between his palms to make the small beads hit the drum more consistently. Cat’s choice had been a carved wooden horse with wings and little wheels attached to its hooves. As she rolled it back and forth on the table in front of him, Anders resigned himself to picking it up a thousand times throughout the night as she lost her grip on it. Once content that the twins had gotten something as well, Bree returned to Tanner and Rosalyn. The dwarven boy was showing Rosalyn how to make the top spin with a practiced hand, and gave a proud grin when the girls exclaimed at how long he got it to spin.

Pleased with himself, Varric retook his seat and took his turn. He shrugged his shoulders amicably at Anders’ knowing look without a hint of shame. The healer wasn’t going to complain; he knew the kids needed toys, they just weren’t expenses he could afford. Technically he couldn’t afford to feed himself and seven kids but he was making it work. Mostly.

“So, you had any luck?” Hawke asked Raelnor, who had been sullenly studying his cards.

Raelnor had been moody and temperamental since he had lost his job at the docks. Burgess had been upset that Fenris had interrupted the fights. He had even accused Raelnor of setting him up since someone had massively outbid him at the last moment before the fights and took the entire betting pool in result.

Raelnor had pointed out that he didn’t exactly have the money to place a big enough bet to more than double Burgess’ bet, which was what it would have taken for the mystery gambler to take all the winnings from the betting rather than just a portion. He had bit his tongue to avoid mentioning that without Burgess setting the rule of the whole pot going to the top bet if it was more than twice the second highest bet to benefit himself, he wouldn’t have lost everything. Of course, he had been correct but it hadn’t helped him keep his job.

Anders couldn’t blame his sour mood- Raelnor had spent years knowing he had to make money for any of them to survive, the only one besides Delilah remotely old enough to work a regular job. Every person that turned him away was a personal failure to Raelnor, no matter how Anders told him they would figure it out. The assurance that there were people around now who would make sure the kids didn’t starve only served to make the teenager complain of feeling useless, like deadweight.

Anders mourned the childhood the boy had clearly given up in favor of caring for the younger children. He wished he could tell Raelnor not to worry about money or finding another job even as he knew logically they needed the extra income for food and necessities for the kids.

“Nothing yet. The only place willing to hire Fereldans, much less one as young as me, is the Bone Pit-”

“I would rather pay to not have to go there,” Varric said.

“Bad news, that place,” Isabela agreed.

“Yeah, don’t take that,” Hawke told him.

“But my overbearing mum told me I would not be working there under any circumstances,” Raelnor finished. He scowled at his hand of cards and set it down face up to show he was folding.

“Yes I did,” Anders told him. “I would rather you not be turned into mincemeat by giant spiders or blighted dragons, Rae,” he began, which the boy waved away dismissively. It was an argument they had revisited a few times since the subject came up.

“Yeah, yeah, like I said mum here said I couldn’t take that one so I’m still looking.”

“Well, that’s good, then,” Varric told Raenor. “It would mean you can’t come to work for me. Think you can handle serving food during the day here?”

“What? You can’t seriously be offering to pay me to come run and tote for you all day.”

“Well, Norah works nights here and they’re going to start serving more meals during the day.”

“Ah, Varric, I know you basically run it but I don’t think you can just offer him a job here.”

The dwarf grinned, the kind he only wore when he was especially proud of whatever trickery he had managed. Usually when one upping petty criminals or raining fire on unsuspecting enemies with Bianca from the backlines.

“Oh, I didn’t mention? I recently came into possession of a little something that gives me a bit more say about what happens here than before.”

Oh, Anders thought, remembering the look Norah had given him earlier when he came in with the children.

“You’re the new management.”

“Aw Blondie, why did you have to steal my thunder? I wanted to deliver it all dramatically,” Varric pouted. When Anders just raised an eyebrow he chuckled and confirmed, “yeah, I’m the new management.”

“Good on you Varric!” Hawke praised.

“Now you can stop bringing it up to Aveline,” Fenris said.

“I know, she was no help.”

“You’re who out bet Burgess,” Raelnor realized.

“The bookie who he had working the fights is an old friend of mine, he was happy to tell me how much he bet and lied about who I betted for. Figured he wouldn’t give you a fair cut even if you did take the dive for him. Sorry if I caused any trouble for you, kid.”

For the first time since being fired, Raelnor’s laugh was raucous and sincere.

“He only scheduled me for that fight because he figured he would kill me. Fuck that blighted nug-”

“Rae, language,” Anders scolded, mainly because all of the younger kids would no doubt repeat what he said, all eager to emulate their older brother. He tried to ignore how Fenris stifled his chortle into his drink he had been raising to his lips.

“Sorry, mum,” Raelnor said, still beaming. Varric winked at him.

“Can you start tomorrow at noon?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good to hear, you’ve got the job, on one condition.”

Raelnor hesitated, his eyes flicking to Anders then Fenris and back to Varric.

“Which is?” he asked nervously.

“No more fighting for money.”

“Done,” Raelnor said immediately. He had already promised Anders (and a tearful Bree) the same thing the morning after his last fight.

“Alright, I’ll show you around tomorrow. Welcome aboard.”

“Anders, we found one of your kids on our patrol,” Aveline called as soon as she and Donnic arrived. Delilah waved at them meekly at the mage when she followed the guardswoman in, Donnic bringing up the rear.

“I thought you were staying at the Rose tonight?” Anders asked her.

Delilah had a bunk there along with some of the other girls where she usually stayed after her shift. She would usually come to the clinic around midmorning to spend time with the kids, taking them out into town or bringing them odds and ends she thought they needed. She had been steadfastly stubborn about not needing anything, to give to the kids instead.

“I changed my mind, was hoping you wouldn’t mind me bunking with the kids tonight. I was fine waiting at the clinic but, uh,” she floundered, and looked at the guard-captain.

“Aveline,” the redheaded woman provided kindly, smiling. “I insisted.”

“Thanks Aveline. Delilah, you can stay whenever you like,” Anders told her.

“You know how to play Wicked Grace?” Isabela asked her.

“Boy, do I.”

---

Delilah continued to stay her nights at the clinic once she was off work. Working at the Blooming Rose usually meant she crept in during the early morning hours. The first few days she looked surprised to find that Anders had waited up for her, but after a few times she seemed to grow used to it. They had established a tradition of sorts; Anders would stop working on his manifesto for the evening when she arrived and they would brew tea and discuss their days before both going to bed.

It was a nice routine, and Anders hadn’t had quite enough of those in his life. Delilah had been very polite and distant at the start, even offering to pay Anders for watching the children. He was just glad she seemed to be warming up to him.

She seemed extra tired tonight though. It was later than she normally got home and Delilah was walking favoring one leg. Anders had noticed that something seemed to be going on with her; something that had made her stop feeling safe enough to sleep at the Rose and jump at corners. He wasn’t sure it was his place to push her though. The other children had been all but officially adopted as his charges. Even Raelnor had come around.

“Sorry, healer, you didn’t have to wait up for me,” she told him softly.

“I didn’t even realize how late it was,” Anders lied. “Here, come sit down and I’ll make us some tea.”

Her smile was weak but sincere. Anders put the lid on his inkwell (improvised, a necessity with kids running around and bumping into the desk) and put his work and quill away. He gave his knee a brisk rub before he got up. From how it and his elbow ached, it was going to storm soon. Delilah watched him as he gathered the tea pot and filled it with water.

“Healer, I can do it,” she said, getting up.

Anders flapped a hand at her and continued with making tea. Rather than the normal tea he normally made, he dug out the last of the mix he had made to help with pain. It was a little bitter but it did the trick. He winced when he stepped wrong and felt the bolt of pain shoot all the way up through his hip.

“Healer,” Delilah protested but Anders was already leveraging himself to sit in his chair in front of the fire beside her, the water coming to boil hanging in the fireplace.

“How many times have I told you to just call me Anders?”

“It just feels weird,” Delilah admitted.

Anders rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. Delilah had tried to call him messere or serah at first but he had finally got her to stop doing that. Maybe one day she would refer to him by something other than a title but every step closer felt nice regardless.

“Guess you could be calling me mum instead,” Anders conceded.

Delilah giggled and glanced towards the back of the clinic where the rest of the kids were resting. Her expression was fond, if not a touch sad. She got up to get the teapot from its hook before Anders could once the water inside could be heard boiling. Delilah poured their cups with a practiced hand and set the tea in it to steep.

“Sorry if that bothers you,” she told him once she had sat back down. “Rae means it in a good way. His dad was terrible and wasn’t around much but he had his mum, even if she spent more time drinking and wailing on him than taking care of him. She’s basically his only concept of a parent, he probably never even considered calling you anything else. He just calls his dad William.”

“It doesn’t bother me. My father… wasn’t the best, usually so I understand that,” Anders admitted. He picked up his cup but didn’t drink from it, content to let its warmth leech into his hands.

“What… ah, you can tell me if it’s out of bound, but what was it like growing up?”

She asked so hesitantly that Anders found that he wanted to answer more than he wished to avoid thinking about his parents or the life he had had, all those years ago. Usually remembering it made him feel lonely and like he was twelve years old again, cut loose and thrown to the wolves.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-” Delilah began to backtrack, her dark brows furrowed.

“No, sorry, it’s fine. I’m an only child, my parents moved out of the Anderfels to a small Fereldan village when I was very young, and we had a farm there. My mother was a caring soul, and she wanted more children but couldn’t have them. My dad was from a large family that was mainly still scattered all over the Anderfels. He was… bitter a lot because he was homesick. I remember I tried to learn his native language, and called him Táta when I was younger. I thought maybe it would make it… easier. It would be something special we shared, like my ma teaching me about healing. Eventually he told me to stop calling him that and just call him father. I think I disappointed him. His only son, flamboyant and more interested in cats and my mother’s garden of herbs than anything he considered boyish. He was the one who turned me into the Templars. I guess I should have just been happy that I had evaded the Circle as long as I had.”

Anders took a sip of his tea even though it was still much too hot for his taste. It helped force down the knot in his throat even if he still felt a bit like crying. He always felt like this when discussing his father; wistful for what could have been, if Anders hadn’t been so… Anders, shamed that he had not been enough for his own father, mournful and angry in equal measures with the cold, distant man who had wanted to love him so badly. His father had been sad under it all, plagued by darkness Anders could not have understood. More than once as a child when he had gone to his father in search of affection or comfort and had been turned away. Anders had sworn he would be a better father. As he had grown, Anders realized that perhaps his own father was a sign he shouldn’t be one himself. He often drowned in his own feelings of helplessness and desolation, he didn’t want to risk a child suffering for it.

Delilah reached to him and carefully tugged one hand from his cup to fold in her own.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. For him to turn you in, Maker it’s awful,” she whispered. “I was lucky in some ways I think, since I never knew who my da was. I was just another brothel brat, and all the girls looked after all of us kids as their own.”

“Is that how you and the kids found each other?”

She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Our village avoided the worst of the blight, it was kind of out of the way, but a horde of Darkspawn were pushing in. The… Andraste, some of the villagers got the idea that if they locked the gate from the alienage to the rest of the city and set it on fire, everyone running out the other gate onto the road into the village would draw the Darkspawn that way and they could defend the village.”

“Did it work?”

“I didn’t stick around to find out. I just remember seeing some of the kids running and jumped the gate. Raelnor and I grew up together and he followed me over when he saw me go. We saved what kids we could and ran. Bree and Rosalyn ended up staying with us, we were going to get them to safety but that… didn’t end up happening. We met Tanner when we were passing through Denerim. He asked for help because he didn’t know where to get milk that was safe for babies to drink. The twins had been abandoned outside the local chantry with a note that just had their names. But the chantry didn’t have space for babies or the resources, especially after how hard the blight had hit them and Tanner… he refused to leave the twins even when everyone else in his travelling party moved on. They told him they didn’t have the money to take care of them so he stayed and did it, as best as he could. His parents were killed by Darkspawn, he ended up with other refugees from his village. In the end, we wound up on a boat here looking for some of the people he had been travelling with who said they were coming to Kirkwall but we never found them. Everything else is kinda history I guess,” she shrugged. “I know a lot of people think I’m stupid for staying here and taking care of them but I couldn’t just leave them. We’re a family now, after everything.”

Anders smiled and squeezed her hand. “Yes, you are a family. All those who think you’re stupid are the dumb ones. It’s admirable to do for others with no ulterior motive. You have a good heart, Delilah.”

She blushed and looked away from him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything other than how little they were. Bree was so small then. I mean, she’s still small but she was tiny. I picked her up and she weighed basically nothing. I just… couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. I wasn’t trying to be a good person, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to them.”

“Because you’re a good person, sweetheart,” Anders told her.

She smiled some to herself before carefully pulling her hand back and taking to her own tea. They finished their drinks together, the silence comfortable and contemplative. The warmth from the tea seemed to fill him at his core and slowly the pain ebbed away. He hadn’t even realized the heat of the fire on his skin and the familiar hissing crackle had lulled him into a light doze until he felt Delilah’s lips touch his forehead.

“Night, ta, thank you,” she murmured before creeping away.

He listened to her as she got things settled before slipping back into their sectioned off sleeping area, a smile he couldn’t fight off gracing his face. The healer had planned to get up and bank the fire before turning in for the night himself. Instead when he awoke it was the Cat squealing in joy the next morning. Someone had covered him with a blanket and couldn’t even be upset about being woken up when Tanner was so apologetic about it. His kids were worth more than any amount of missed sleep.

---

It was inevitable that Hawke would need him for an overnight trip. She had agreed to look into demons that were coming from one of the caves near where the Sabrae clan had set up. With how long of a trek it was, they had never managed to make it back before nightfall and always had to make camp along the path back. But Hawke wanted a healer along with them and Anders needed some of the rarer herbs that only flourished on Sundermount.

Of course, that didn’t make it any easier to leave the children. He had given Rosalyn the key to the clinic so they could lock up if they left and had told them where to leave it when they went to bed so Delilah could get in. He had asked Varric to check on them and even accepted Aveline’s offer for Donnic to swing by during his patrol to make sure they were alright as well. He had made sure Tanner and Rosalyn knew where they kept the extra coin stashed in case they needed it. None of it eased the anxiety of leaving them to fend for themselves without him.

“Go, ta, we got it,” Tanner had assured him when he mentioned telling Hawke he would send her with extra healing potions, that he just couldn’t go overnight. He considered asking about the new nickname the kids (except Raelnor) had adopted for him but let it slide. At least they had stopped just calling him healer.

Varric knocked on Fenris’ door in the late afternoon. When he first saw Varric waiting for him his heart had rabbitted in his chest, sure that something was wrong. He couldn’t think of another reason for the rogue to come calling for him when Hawke was out of town for the night.

“What’s happened?” he asked immediately.

Varric chortled at him and raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

“Calm down Broody, there’s no fire. I just figured since I’m going to check on your children you should come along,” the dwarf cajoled.

“They’re not my children, they’re the mage’s children,” Fenris answered, but stepped out of the mansion to follow him regardless. He hadn’t even considered the logistics of where the children would be while Anders was away. Just another reason they weren’t his children; he wasn’t suited to looking after others.

“Whatever you say, elf.”

Fenris had expected they would go to the clinic and find the children inside, or perhaps playing on the landing just in front of it as they often did. They met Donnic coming down from Lowtown, apparently given the same task as them by his wife. The man didn’t look too put out by it though, laughing and joking with them as they made their way through the slums.

Rather than the sound of Rosalyn’s distinct tinkling laughter or Bree shouting or even one of the twin’s excited baby talk, there was the sound of a child crying. Fenris heard it first and took off in a run, hearing Varric’s surprised shout at his sudden departure and the clattering of Donnic’s armor as he hurried to catch up.

When he rounded the corner, his heart calmed some to see all five of the younger children sitting against the wall just outside the clinic’s doors. Rosalyn’s face was buried in her knees as she wailed, Tanner rubbing her back with a contrite expression.

Cahir was the first to notice Fenris approaching and called out, “Da!” to him excitedly just as Donnic and Varric rounded the corner. Varric complained about how fast he was when they caught, practically panting. Fenris made a note to tease the dwarf about being out of shape later.

Once he knew what was wrong with his kids. The mage’s kids, he meant.

“What’s wrong?” Fenris asked Rosalyn when she looked up at him with wet eyes.

Her face scrunched up again before she could speak and she let out a small hiccuping sob. The warrior found himself wrong footed and unsure how to proceed; danger and fighting were more his forte, crying girls and children not so much. He wasn’t sure what to say to calm her but clearly she was upset and needed something. Fenris would have given her anything to wipe away her devastated expression.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “Tell me what has happened and I will do what I can to rectify it.”

“T-the healer gave me the k-key to hold onto but I lost,” she choked out before sniffling miserably. “It’s his only one, he’s going to be so mad. He told me he was giving it to me because he t-trusted me with it and-” she sobbed again.

“Well that’s not the end of the world, sweetheart,” Donnic told her.

Rosalyn looked up at the guardsman.

“B-but I lost it, and…”

“No one’s hurt or dying, the sky isn’t falling, the clinic isn’t on fire, and all of you are together,” Donnic told her in a calm voice. He knelt and ruffled her hair.

“If you know about where you lost it we can ask around and see if anyone found it, if not we can retrace your steps and look for it,” Fenris offered when she looked at him.

“Even if someone did pick it up they would have no way to know which door in the city it opened,” Varric agreed. “Not to mention I can just pick the lock to let you in and replace the lock.”

“Oh! We know right where it is we just can’t… uh… get to it,” Bree told them. “You’ll help us, right da?”

Fenris looked to Varric and Donnic, unsure who the girl was addressing only to find them both aiming what Fenris could only describe as shit-eating grins at him. Oh, she means me, he recognized. Looked like he would probably be best keeping his taunts about Varric’s stamina to himself for a bit.

"Yes, we'll help you," he told Bree, already resigned to his fate.

“How ?”

Fenris felt a little bad for his incredulous tone when Rosalyn hiccuped and sniffled behind him but really how she had managed to drop the key where she had eluded Fenris. Over a wall and down the side of the steep rock Kirkwall was built into and on top of, of all things. The kids hadn’t been wrong; they had taken them straight to the key. It taunted them from a jutting section of wall built out to take the brunt of the waves that crashed against Kirkwall’s walls. Occasionally the light winked off it whenever the clouds weren’t hiding the slowly setting sun.

“Cahir saw a bird,” she offered meekly.

All three of the adults stepped away from the low wall they had been leaning over to peer down at the key to turn and look at her more fully. Ironically they were within eyesight of the clinic’s door still.

“Cahir… saw a bird…” Fenris repeated slowly, feeling his eyebrow raise in question against his will.

“He’s been fussy all day and didn’t want to be carried, but if we let him down he ran off. There was a bird here, and he saw it and tried to grab it. Tanner was holding him but he was so wriggly that when he jumped Tanner couldn’t catch him. I did but I forgot… I forgot I was holding the key and it flew out of my hand. I just panicked! I… the spikes, and no one else was close- I had-”

“I see,” Fenris said, nodding. “Things happen, we will figure it out. Cahir is more important than the key,” and he didn’t even want to imagine the boy managing to land on the rusty spikes that lined the outer half walls of Darktown’s walkways.

“Told you,” Tanner told her, “Cahir would have gotten really hurt, I knew they would listen and not be mad, Ros.”

“No, you didn’t, you just said we might as well tell the truth because they would find out.”

“Shh,” the dwarven boy said but wouldn’t look at any of them. “You could have told them I dropped it, I told you.”

“No one’s in trouble,” Fenris assured. “We just have to find a way to get the key now, alright?”

They weren’t going to be able to get the key. It was too far down with no real path to get to it. The three men had stood for a long time discussing ways of getting it before they had given up on the idea. They had discussed trying to hook with something or even getting a boat and going at it from the water. In the end, none of their ideas got them any closer to the elusive key. They had nothing that they would use with any accuracy to snag it and pull it back up, and any boat they would have been smashed agaisnt the rocks around the outcropping of rocks. Their plan of picking the lock itself and simply replacing it was dashed too as one by one Varric broke every lockpick he had in it, growling and cursing the entire time.

“If we got some rope one of us could rappel down to it,” Varric suggested.

“Are you going to go down after it?”

“I know us dwarves are small but we’re dense. There’s no way I would get down without falling, not to mention back up. Donnic? Dashing rescues are supposed to be your thing, just pop on down and grab the key.”

“I’m in full plate armor, I’m pretty sure the rope would snap if I tried. Fenris could go, he’s the lightest of us.”

“I’m able to pass through solid objects, not scale vertical walls,” Fenris informed them drolly when both the rogue and the guardsman looked to him. They stood in silence for a moment and Fenris glanced back at the clinic door. “I can kick that door down though.”

Varric considered it for a moment, tapping his index finger on his chin contemplatively.

“I got a guy that can replace it today,” he agreed.

Donnic perked up. “We have spare locks at the Keep we can install. They’re replacements for the ones on the main entrance to the Keep, so they’re sturdy. And come with more than one key.”

“Okay, so new plan,” Varric said and clapped his hands before giving out orders.

The new door looked almost too nice as it set into its new frame, out of place in dingy Darktown, but there was no questioning it was sturdy. Much more secure than the one Anders had had previous, and could be locked from the inside instead of just the outside, unlike its predecessor. To lock up for the night, Anders had rigged some kind of bar and chain across the door from the inside.

“Sorry about all the trouble,” Rosalyn told them all over dinner. Donnic had left to finish his patrol after helping them install the new lock but had returned for supper and had even brought sweets back for the children to have for dessert. They had all been ecstatic when presented with them, something Fenris made a note to bring them more of.

“We’ve been harping Blondie to change that door for months,” Varric dismissed, “really I should be thanking you for giving me a reason to just take care of it.”

Rosalyn smiled some down at her food and allowed Bree to pull her into whatever the kids were discussing so seriously. Fenris half listened to them, mainly happy that they were all at ease again and there were no more tears.

“Oh, were you two there when Aveline said something to Isabela about the dinner party? She was pretty hurt about her not coming and said she told her about it but I’m not sure I believe her. You know Ave,” Donnic asked them once it was clear the children were absorbed in their own discussion.

Varric snorted. “Oh man were we. Your wife can be ruthless, told Bela that if you two ever had kids together who asked what a slattern was, she’d just point at her and tell them ‘that’s a slattern.’ In the middle of Hightown.”

Donnic’s laugh was startled and boomed out of him.

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” he agreed.

“What’s a slattern?” Bree asked innocently, her head cocked to the side.

“Uh, nothing you need to worry about,” Varric said at the same time Donnic said “you’ll find out when you’re older.”

Both answers just made Bree pout but she dropped it anyway. Fenris hoped she didn’t ask Anders about the word later, as the mage had been persistent about them not cussing around the children. Evidently hearing Tanner call something “absolute blighted nugshit” had been a bit of a wake up call to how much they listened and repeated what the adults said.

After dinner, Varric had said his goodbyes and mentioned he would send Raelnor home with his own key once he got back to the Hanged Man. The boy had been enjoying his new job, especially since he got tips on top of his hourly wages. Donnic mentioned that he had to get home to clean before Aveline got back the next day. Before long it was just Fenris and the children. The elf was tidying up the clinic and trying to convince himself to leave for the night as well when Bree tugged on his shirt.

“Will you stay tonight, da?” she asked him. He wanted to dissuade her from calling him that but couldn’t bear to say anything when she was looking at him with wide earnest eyes. “Please?”

“Yes, fine, but you need to start getting ready for bed. It’s getting late.”

“Okay but you have to tuck me in!”

Bree grinned and scurried away to do as he said without waiting for an answer. Fenris sighed and surveyed the cots available to sleep on for the night. He supposed he should have guessed that he wouldn’t have the heart to return the mansion and leave them alone for the evening. He was just starting to put bedding on one when Raelnor came in and regarding him with a confused face.

“Just sleep in mum’s bed, it’s not like he’ll mind,” he had told Fenris, “those cots are tiny, you’ll never sleep on ‘em comfortably.”

“Da! I’m ready for bed, come tuck me in?” Bree interrupted. She tugged at his hand and Fenris followed her back to the children’s makeshift room, Raelnor’s chuckle following him as the teenager sat at their little table with his own dinner.

Rosalyn was sitting on the edge of the twins’ cot with a book open in her hands. She looked at him in surprise when he came in.

“Da’s tucking us in tonight,” Bree informed them and clambered into her own cot.

“Oh, did you want to read to us then?” Rosalyn offered, and held out the book. It looked well worn with it’s yellowing pages and cracked spine.

“Sorry, I can’t,” he told her.

“O-oh, right, sorry. We’re not your kids, um, everyone say goodnight and thank you,” she said even as her little voice wobbled with tears at being turned away. Fenris laid a hand on her skinny shoulder even as he refused to look at any of them.

“I wouldn’t mind reading to you, I just… can’t. I can’t read,” he admitted, something he had taken pains for even his friends to not know coming out easy when he knew it would comfort the girl. “I will stay and listen though, and I believe I did promise to tuck everyone in.”

He settled down in the rickety chair that was undoubtedly there for Anders to sit in and read to them nightly. Fenris wondered what he sounded like, reading to the children every night. With his expressive face and array of voices, Fenris imagined Anders was a good storyteller for children’s stories.

Rosalyn read a chapter to them from the book, something about a princess escaping a curse from what Fenris caught. The twins were asleep by the end of the first page, and when Rosalyn softly closed the book Fenris looked around and realized that all of the younger kids were out like lights. He tugged Bree’s blanket up to her chin, tucked Tanner’s more firmly around his feet and made sure the twins were not at risk of rolling out of their bed in the middle of the night while Rosalyn extinguished their lantern.

“I can teach you,” Rosalyn whispered to him as she got into her own bed, the book safely put away with a small collection of other books and toys shoved into the corner. “How to read, I mean. I used to teach the kids in the alienage, and some of their parents too. If you want, it’s okay if not, you may want someone else to teach you or-”

“Ros,” Fenris said to get her attention. He knelt beside her cot and brushed her hair back from her worried face. “That sounds very nice, thank you. I would love for you to teach me.”

If I am teachable, Fenris bit back. Rosalyn smiled at him and laid down. He settled her blanket around her shoulders and smoothed her hair back before standing and sliding out from behind the curtain.

Raelnor had put away the bedding he had set out on the cot and jerked his thumb at the door to Anders’ cupboard of a room. He didn’t go back to his cot with his siblings until Fenris had slipped into it and abandoned the thought of sleeping out on the cot.

“What happened ?” Anders asked as soon as he saw the new door the next day.

“Cahir saw a bird,” Bree told him sagely. Around her the other children nodded with serious expressions on their little faces and Anders could only sigh. At least the clinic was cleaner than it was when he left, he supposed.

(leave kudos and comments here please ♥)

#fenders da #fenders da2 #fenders fic #fenris x anders #anders da2 #fenris da2

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