#and yes nicky is a horse girl
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The Old Guard Dæmon AU
Probably done before, but I wanted to write one myself, so I thought I'd make a guide to the Guard and their respective dæmons, to go with the fic I just posted for it.
Andy: Hwehnto (Przewalski's horse)
Yeah, a wolf or some other predator might fit, but let's face it, the supreme horse girl should have a horse for a dæmon. *h₂weh₁n̥to- is Proto-Indo-European for "wind", butchered into a modernly comprehensible Hwehnto/Hwento. He is a very serious and stoic dæmon, much like Andy, but his outbursts of emotion are striking. He is vicious in battle and will not hesitate to attack both human and dæmon, if necessary.
I did also consider a tarpan for Andy, but there is literally one photo in existence of one. I generally assume that actually it would be some European wild horse so old it doesn't exist anymore, and we've lost all modern knowledge of it. So Przewalski's horse will do.
Quynh: Minh Nhat (white-lipped pit viper)
Of course our viper would have a viper! Small, quick and venomous. He doesn't have a name yet because, frankly, I don't speak Vietnamese and I want him to have a cool name like most dæmons have. His name is Minh Nhat, which means "bright sunlight", in contrast with Quynh's name. More outgoing than most dæmons, will talk casually with other humans, and is prone to little acts of thievery (thimbles, small nuts, little trinkets), mostly out of delight with the object than any malice. Very tiny! Likes spending his time tucked up Quynh's sleeve. Will not hesitate to bite a human should the need arise, but tucks himself in Quynh's collar or scarf when in battle.
I was torn between this and a red-headed krait, but ultimately went to an actual viper (well, pit viper, close enough).
Joe: Tayyib (scimitar oryx)
(Oddly difficult to find a photo of one alone, with no radio collar, that hasn't been shot by some bastard trophy hunter).
Tayyib (named that way for obvious reasons and chosen by Joe's mother's dæmon) represents everything poetic and artistic about Joe, and is calm and wise. Dislikes fighting, but will if he must: watch out for those horns! Yes, he is a male dæmon, a rarity, another commonality Joe shares with Nicky. I wonder why? A very good listener who gives good advice.
I don't know why I decided on another ungulate for this hapless team (can they even go anywhere?), but I did. I figured a desert antelope of some kind would be good for Joe, and it was a toss-up between this and an addax. I admit I chose it just for the name.
Nicky: Bonamico (Luzon bleeding-heart dove)
Geographically, it doesn't make sense. Symbolically? I had to. Bonamico is quiet, contemplative and kind, barely speaks except to Nicky, Joe or Tayyib, but is always concerned for those about him. He is far more nervous than Nicky, but stores a lot of knowledge, a trait he does share with Nicky. His favourite place to perch, other than Nicky's shoulder, is between Tayyib's horns (although occasionally he likes to sit on Joe's head). He does the scouting for the group, as the only bird dæmon.
This bird is the entire reason I made this damn AU. It's just too perfect. Look at this Catholic-ass bird!
Booker: Amandine (black rat)
*wheezing* I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm not sorry.
Now, the problem with dæmons is that we have rat symbolism, which is of rats as dirty and sneaky, but we're also modern human beings that know perfectly well rats are cute, intelligent and affectionate creatures that make amazing pets. Amandine herself is mostly just shy and quiet, although she does like it when she gets the chance to roast Booker, but then again, who doesn't? She is their little reconnaissance expert, being sent in to buildings and small places to chew through wires and spy. She, unlike Booker, is always supremely well-groomed.
I did consider a ferret or stoat, something a little more noble, but I personally do love rats so much and so I wanted a positive rat dæmon, for once.
Nile: Dakarai (red wolf)
I wanted to give Nile something supremely American, but she was in the Marines, and soldiers of most kinds tend to have dog dæmons, so no stereotypical birds. But Nile is also smart and quick-thinking, and family-oriented, so the red wolf made sense to me. Dakarai is loyal and far more serious than his human, a bit more cynical. Having been trained in a modern Armed Force, post-Geneva Convention, he's never touched another human being and has exclusively fought other dæmons. He is, of course, a good tracker.
Someone had to have a canine in this group. Might as well be Nile!
Bonus (under the cut for cockroach reasons):
James Copley: Vindemiatrix (common raven)
The Odin symbolism of the knowledge-seeker raven, honestly. She perches in odd places, watches everything, and reports back. She is a secret-keeper and prone to keeping her own counsel, not interacting much with other dæmons. She, like Copley, misses his wife and her Pallas's cat dæmon something fierce.
Stephen Merrick: Unnamed (American cockroach)
Need I say more? He deserves it.
Dr Meta Kozak: Unnamed (hagfish)
A disgusting dæmon for a disgusting woman, who burrows into people's bodies and eats them from the inside out. She carries the horrid thing in a lightweight tank backpack, one of the many modern accomodations for people with water-dwelling dæmons.
Keane: Unnamed (Eastern black rhino)
A beautifully noble dæmon, unfortunately wasted on a bastard.
Lykon: Unnamed (melanistic leopard)
She was graceful, majestic and courteous, and absolutely breathtaking in battle. She would dispense affection to daemon and human alike, much like Lykon himself.
#the old guard#joenicky#andromache the scythian#yusuf al kaysani#nicolo di genova#nile freeman#sebastien le livre#quynh#daemon au#his dark materials#pixie writes#supplemental material
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FOR WANT OF A NAIL
@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @adowbaldwin @profoundme444 @beautifulsoulsublime @lady-lazarus-declermont
Part Three
Summary: Baldwin Montclair had a string of ex girlfriends, a single child, and a lifetime longer than most people could dream of to make all kinds of mistakes.His family knew one which kept coming out of the woodwork to irritate him every other century.
Also on Ao3
Philippe raged.
Julius Caesar’s blood lay splattered across the senate floor. The conspirators had gone underground, fearful of retribution. The careful political manoeuvring he had laid down for the safety of his family, for the safety of Rome, had been undone in an instant by impatience and short sightedness.
Lucius stood obediently in a corner and silently watched his father stalk. Neither of them had been opposed to Caesar’s murder- indeed, they had been encouraging it since Caesar first crossed the Rubicon in open defiance of Senate law- but Philippe had been trying to manipulate the Senate into assassinating him quietly, in private.
He was simply too popular with the common people for his death to be considered a good thing. Now that blood had been spilt so openly, there was going to be serious problems from all sides.
Finally, Philippe stilled. He beckoned Lucius over and gripped his son by the shoulder.
‘We go to Cicero’s house this morning, and from there we will decide what action to take regarding the welfare of our family. Have a servant ready the horses.’
Lucius nodded and left.
________________________________________________________________
Cicero welcomed them warmly enough but with a distinct tang of nervousness reeking from every pore. He was right to be nervous. Marcus Tullius Cicero now had the unenviable task of keeping the Senate from tearing itself apart from the inside. He was, along with Mark Antony, effectively the new figurehead of Rome. At least for now.
‘Wine!’ Cicero snapped his fingers and a slave scuttled off to fetch refreshments while he gestured for them to sit down. Lucius angled himself so that his back was towards a blank stone wall; he kept two of the three entrances into the room at the edges of his periphery, Philippe lounging testily to his left on a couch.
‘We did not come here to drink wine,’ Philippe glared across at the warmblood, who twitched slightly, uncomfortable. ‘We came to discuss your failure at keeping Rome from descending into anarchy.’
‘I tried my best-'
‘Clearly not’
Lucius stiffened slightly in surprise as a different slave came gliding into the room. The girl was no older than sixteen, ropey and muscular, with long brown ringlets pulled back by a strip of leather. She smelt strongly of olive oil and almonds, and as she moved forward and placed a tray of cups before them her eyes flicked up, glancing briefly at Philippe and Lucius before retreating back the way she had come.
‘Your servants are..unusually graceful’ Lucius tried to keep his voice even. Up close the smell had been unmistakable; the girl was a vampire, and only a few centuries older than Lucius himself.
Cicero smiled, craning his head round to smile indulgently towards the now empty corridor. ‘Ah, yes, yes. Blanda was a gift from Decimus Albinus, by way of that fellow he has working in the fighting pits for him. Ah…Sismund, I think he’s called, from Germania.’
‘A recent gift?’ Philippe asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
‘Quite recent’
Philippe and Lucius exchanged a brief glance. Decimus Junius Brutus Albinus had been closer to Julius Caesar than any man alive. Caesar considered him to be his son, and yet that did not stop Decimus from plunging his dagger into the man’s heart.
‘How many other gifts were sent to you from the house of Albinus?’ Philippe asked casually.
Cicero nodded at a boy hovering nearby, who dashed away and came back a few minutes later with three individuals. The girl, Blanda, had clearly been cleaning in the kitchen; she had soot on her hands and feet, but had hurriedly washed her face with a wet cloth.
A black woman stood beside her, long dark curls cascading down her shoulders. She was older than Lucius but not yet forty, wearing a caramel-coloured tunic and thick sandals. She stood with her head bowed, as was appropriate for a servant, but there was a quiet, matronly strength to her pose.
The third individual was clearly a Gaul. He was the same height as Lucius, and possibly the same age, both in warmblood and vampiric years. He was wearing a caramel-coloured tunic as well, but his reed-woven sandals were thinner and quite worn.
‘Come closer’ Cicero waved the group forward, then gestured to each of them in turn.
‘Blanda, Merula, and Tinus’
‘Why don’t you interview them while Cicero and I speak business?’ Lucius was on his feet before Philippe had finished speaking. He had moved deliberately quickly to gauge the others’ reactions; Blanda flinched and Merula moved so that she was subtly shielding the young girl. Tinus just stared.
Now that he was standing next to him, Lucius realised that the Gaul was actually two inches taller than him, with a tanned, muscular physique and hair so blonde it was almost white. His eyes were grey like wet river stones, but when he glanced back over his shoulder as Lucius marched the trio outside into a courtyard they had changed to a light sea green.
The Gaul smelt nice.
He wasn’t clean; Lucius could smell the horse dung clinging to his sandals from where he hadn’t quite managed to scrape it off. But underneath it Tinus smelt of rain, and a musk Lucius would suddenly identify centuries later as tobacco.
Apricot, too. A metallic tang that should have been acrid but wasn’t. Soothing, like lighting on the wind just before a storm. Rich, damp soil; fir trees and wool grease and mead.
Cucumber, and black pepper, and subtler, deeper layers of spice that made Lucius’ skin tingle pleasantly. He resisted the urge to sniff deeply and came to a halt beside an olive tree in the middle of the yard.
‘Why are you here?’ he said, curtly. Tinus stared at him but said nothing. Blanda wouldn’t meet his eye; instead she stared at the ground, her fingers reaching out and grasping Merula’s wrist.
‘We were sent here by our master to make Cicero’s life comfortable’ said Merula. She spoke softly but her voice carried. ‘We are but humble servants of Rome.’
‘Did your master make you his servants or-‘
‘He did’
Sismund of Germania. The name did ring a very small bell.
‘And how many more are you?’
‘Our sisters, Mantia and Elantia, and a brother, Carmo’
Ah, the twins. Now he remembered.
Mantia and Elantia were the latest rising stars of Rome’s fighting pits, twins who fought side by side with daggers and short swords against any opponents who would challenge them. They had racked up quite the body count so far, and didn’t appear too keen to stop any time soon. He would have to keep Philippe appraised of all this when he returned inside.
‘Why this household?’
‘We didn’t murder Caesar’ Tinus cut in flatly, before Merula could reply. A slight shiver trickled down Lucius’ spine. Tinus’ voice was clear and strong, his thick Celtic accent adding a melodious note to his Latin.
‘Tinus-‘ Merula put a hand on his elbow; he shrugged her off.
‘It wasn’t your hand on the knife, no, but did you plant the idea?’ Lucius scowled.
Tinus shrugged. ‘Easy enough to accomplish when they were already out for blood’
Lucius grit his teeth. ‘Assassination may have been inevitable, but it could have been done cleanly.’
Tinus glared at him again. He seemed almost bored. It took everything in him to stop himself wrapping his hands around the Gaul’s throat.
‘He didn’t deserve a clean death’ Tinus spat on the floor. Merula flung an arm across his chest, glancing nervously between the two men. Lucius felt a nerve start throbbing in his head; his right hand was balled into a fist so tight his knuckles had turned white.
‘Leave’ Lucius hissed. He thrust a finger towards the opposite courtyard wall. ‘Go back to your master and tell him to keep his machinations to himself or we will force him to get the fuck out of Rome.’
With solemn dignity, head held high, Merula took Blanda’s hand firmly in hers and marched boldly out of the courtyard gate. Tinus spat again, this time at Lucius’ feet, then turned and stalked after his sisters.
Author’s Notes
I don't know exactly where the members of the Senate holed up after they killed Caesar but I wrote this before I thought to worry too much about geography. Oops!
Both Cicero and Decimus Albinus were real people, and really were deeply involved in the assassination of Julius Caesar.
A portrait which closely resembles Tinus (although he has lighter hair and a touch more green to his eyes) is Vere Sidney Tudor Harmsworth (1916), by Philip Alexius de László
#baldwin montclair#baldwin de clermont#bibaldwin#baldwin/male oc#adow#a discovery of witches#a discovery of witches season 1#a discovery of witches season 2#a discovery of witches season 3#all souls series#all souls trilogy#all souls tv series
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foxes + onesies (5/9)
based off of that one post i saw and don’t remember, where people once caught Allison wandering around Fox Tower in a giraffe onesie, and i absolutely melted for her. here is the Foxes’ journey to getting a onesie each!
Nicky
almost immediately after Dan, Nicky gets his own onesie
like, two days after
and, as he finds out later from Dan, he ordered his first
it just got a little lost in the mail (that’s just Nicky’s luck)
the thing is, he’s completely jealous of the upperclassmen
not just a little; a lot
and not because he feels excluded (he does), nor because he wants to be belong (he does) or even because he misses those happy moments of childhood when everything was still easy (he achingly does)
no no
he’s jealous because he wants to steal their onesies and wear them all
he’s jealous because he just really, really wants a soft and silly onesie to wear
that’s it
it’s not a childhood memory (he never had one)
it’s not a self-care tip (he doesn’t think he needs self care lessons, thank you very much, he’s a very mature adult with 2 angry teenagers under his very adequate care, you know)
it’s not a grand gesture for love-
but perhaps…? oh yeah get this:
Nicky is always planning for the future
ever since Erik, ever since the twins, he makes plans upon plans upon plans
it’s not that he’s anxious about the future (a little bit, still, given everything that he went through)
making plans for the future is his way of looking forward to it, of not losing hope, of staying strong in the present
he’s got a lot of dreams
getting tattoos…
getting a tattoo with Erik…
or many tattoos with Erik, for that matter…
owning a blue or green vintage Westfalia…
doing a roadtrip across Europe… (with Erik, duh)
volunteering for humanitarian work in any country…
owning a ranch with lots of horses…
or at least having one horse of his own…
marrying Erik…
and don’t get him started on his plans for the very far future, when he’s sixty-seventy, in his shabby German cottage with Erik, his only neighbors being Andrew and Aaron…
Nicky is hopeful
Nicky is optimist
Nicky is excited for what he future might bring, despite the adversities that knocked him down times and times again
you have to give him that
which is why he starts planning for an event that is closer than he thinks:
Berlin Pride Ceremony, also known as Christopher Street Day
Nicky’s never been to Pride
not even in his time in Stuttgart, and certainly not here in the US
so when he graduates, and the twins are legally independent from his guardianship, you can bet your sweet ass that Nicky is flying back to Erik in time for Pride Month, and that he will be shaking his sweet ass in the streets of Berlin to celebrate his love
thus, he needs an outfit
he and Erik need an outfit
now, what screams “I’m gay”, “I’m proud” and “I love horses” ?
rainbow unicorn onesie
lemme say that again
rainbow. unicorn. motherf***ing. onesie.
that’s right baby
but once Nicky’s got a vision, a plan, he’s very picky about it
sure, once he’s in the moment, he lets loose and has fun and enjoys
but leading to it? very difficult
he searches every shopping center in the Palmetto area
he searches every shopping center in the Columbia area
none of the unicorn onesies satisfy him
so he resorts to online shopping
which he hates
online shopping, to him, lacks the true experience that is walking for hours, raiding stores and the food court…
a few Google searches, a couple of clicks, and his onesie is ordered
it’s… it’s very gay
as in, very bright and lively
the faux-fur is made of pastels of all the colors of the rainbow
the mane is hot pink and almost feather-like
there’s cute little ears, two cute little eyes, and a freaking yellow horn on the hood
it’s as if the Gay Pride flag had had a baby with Pegasus or Spirit the stallion of the Cimarron
it’s beautiful
Nicky’s already picturing himself with rainbow flag temporary tattoos on each of his cheeks, a rainbow bandana, his sweaty hand in Erik’s sweaty hand, singing Rain On Me and Born This Way and Single Ladies all day long amongst a safe and proud crowd
he can’t wait
he’s so excited
he’s also nervous to see Erik’s reaction when he receives his surprise gift
deep down, he knows he’ll love it, but he’s just a little scared still
and so Nicky waits
and waits
and waits
and waits
then he hears about Dan’s little stunt for Valentine’s Day
and he gets envious, because 1) she got to celebrate with Matt while Erik is an ocean away and 2) she got her onesie first, when he knows for a fact that he ordered before her from the same website
and then he hears about a special movie night the girls had where they all lounged in their onesies watching Hunger Games and the Avengers
Nicky’s getting very jealous
but finally, finally, when March rounds the corner, Nicky gets a package
he also gets an unscheduled Skype call from Erik at 4 AM (US time)
the screen just opens on Erik, in his onesie, jumping on his mini indoor trampoline
Erik doesn’t speak, he just keeps on bouncing
Nicky screams and wakes up the whole dorm
Andrew kicks down the door (literally, it breaks and falls down its hinges), Kevin can be heard yelling “WHAT THE FUCK” from his bed and Neil’s got one of Andrew’s knife
and the crash of the door wakes up Aaron and the upperclassmen in the other dorm rooms
the night ends (or the morning begins?) with all the Foxes cramped in Nicky’s room, watching Erik wordlessly bounce in his rainbow unicorn pajama and Nicky yelling “THAT’S MY MAN BITCHES”
needless to say, Nicky is quite happy with himself, and so is Erik
Nicky gets invited to the special movie night with the girls, on the promise to never wake them up at ass-o’clock ever again, even if he’s being murdered
oh, and somehow his pillow mysteriously gets stabbed and stuffed out…
#i'm reposting these so each Fox has their own post bc I've been losing visibility with the reblogs#part 5 of 9!#i gotta say that nicky wasn't my favorite character but i quite enjoyed writing this for him#and yes nicky is a horse girl#foxes + onesies#aftg#nicky hemmick#erik klose#nicky x erik#all for the game#tfc#trk#tkm#the foxhole court#the raven king#the king's men#aftg series#nora sakavic#dan wilds#matt boyd#danmatt#dan x matt#allison reynolds#renee walker#renison#neil josten#andrew minyard#kandreil#kevin day x aaron minyard#aaron minyard
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finishing drawings has been very difficult lately so here’s some old guard sketches in various states of uh sketchiness
#My art#my sketches#tog#the old guard#yes I’m asking myself if I should make andy and quynh beefier and @past-me the answer is always YES#feat. Andy the og horse girl#andyquynh#andromaquynh#andy the scythian#joenicky#joe al kaysani#nicky di genova
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Now that both Courtney books are out and I’ve read and processed them both, I do want to say that I think they’re the least well-written of any of the AG books, but not through any fault of their own- let me explain.
(Note that for this discussion I’m ignoring the Doylist criticisms- Courtney and 3/4 of her friend group being white again, the lack of gay discussion in-text in regards to the HIV crisis, etc. These are valid complaints and concerns, but not what we’re talking about right now.)
The Problem with the Current Book Length
I think the main problem with Courtney stems from the fact her books are so short. American Girl has literally been doing the stupidest things in regards to their books lately, almost as if they’re trying to sabotage them on purpose. First they remove illustrations in 2015- when their target audience is about nine years old. I don’t know about you, but when I was six and getting into American Girl, the illustrations were the highlight for me. Not because I had no attention span and loved pretty pictures, but because it showed me firstly what the girl’s life was like, whether it be 1760s wilderness or 2001 Chicago. It was like stepping into their world, really helping you get into their heads, which was basically what the dolls were supposed to do, to let you know that girls like you exist throughout time and space.
As well as that, the illustrations were free advertisement. I can’t tell you how excited me and my sisters were as children to go to the American Girl place and look at the doll displays, shouting that that’s the dress Felicity wears to the ball! or look, Josefina’s goat looks exactly like the book! AG cut that from 2015 to 2020, as if they were trying to appeal to an older audience- while at the same time changing all the doll outfits, accessories and marketing to appeal to a younger demographic.
Now, this isn’t about the illustrations, as Courtney got those- it’s about what they did to the historical characters after the Illustration Outrage™ happened. See, they’d condensed the historical six-book format into two books- not necessarily a bad idea, parents would be more likely to buy two books for their kid than consider buying six. However, they then claimed that if they put illustrations back, they would have to abridge the books- literally my nightmare.
First of all, American Girl, we know for a fact you can fit all six books plus illustrations into ONE VOLUME, let alone two. You’re just being cowards here and trying to nerf your own stories for... some reason.
So that meant a lot of important things got cut- Rebecca’s Chanukah story, Melody’s cousin’s house search, Maryellen’s Christmas adventure... all things important to the girls’ histories and character.
The Problem with Courtney’s Writing
Now, Courtney was the first doll to be released after the abridging began, meaning her books were released, in their entirety, just as short as the abridged stories. So it basically means she gets four books while the others get six- and unlike the others, Courtney doesn’t even have mysteries or short stories to pad out. (And honestly, looking at her book’s amount of content, I’d even argue that she basically got two while everyone else got six, but I digress.)
The problem with her books isn’t that they have an author writing them poorly (I really feel like her author was doing the best with what limited time she had), but in how cramped American Girl made them. Because, well, Courtney has to deal with a lot in such a short amount of words.
Let’s compare her to Julie, for instance- Julie pretty much has a new 70s thing every book. In order: feminism, rising divorce rates, San Francisco’s Chinese culture, environmentalism, the country’s bicentennial, anti-bullying and deaf acceptance. And adding to this, we also have her own personal journies through her parents’ divorce and move, her basketball team, her friendship with Ivy (and later Joy), overcoming her fear of horses, student council, detention... It’s a lot, and yet her books don’t feel rushed or forced at all. It’s just a year in the life of a girl going through a lot of new and sudden events, and how she grows and changes throughout them. She may not be as deep a character as Addy or Kirsten, but not every girl goes through the trials and tribulations they do, and it’s a good series overall.
Courtney, meanwhile, does feel rushed and forced, because of the short timespan. Instead of fitting everything into a six-book format- or even at two-book format that is the same length and content as the six-book- everything has to be fit into two short books. Everything Courtney has to cover includes the topics of divorce and stepfamilies, feminist and technological advancement, the Challenger explosion, the HIV crisis, Hands Across America, and the founding of Pleasant Company. And in Courtney’s own journey, she has to cover her learning to stand up for herself, her relationship with her stepsister and Tina’s own character development, her mother running for mayor and how that affects her, how much she misses her Dad after he moves, her friendship with Sarah (note on that later), her basically getting hate-crimed after standing up for her friend... that’s a LOT of stuff, and I didn’t even include the non-AG 80s product placement they shove into her collection.
But without the longer format, everything is pushed together to its detriment. Tina’s development and Maureen’s mayoral candidacy are two plotlines that are literally dropped and almost completely ignored in the second book. The Challenger and HIV issues were handled decently, but the Challenger only lasted a few short chapters, and the HIV topic was not as informative as it could be, leaving out several things like Reagan’s refusal to treat it for so long, and its effect on the gay community. Honestly, the HIV scare was more shifted to focus on the mob mentality of a new and scary disease- which, while needed right now, also ignores many of the bigotry-related reasons it became an epidemic. Pleasant Company’s inclusion feels forced in, and I think was the only resolution she had to her Dad plotline?
And don’t get me started on the Sarah plotline- every Girl of the Year since Kanani- sans Isabelle and Luci- has had the story of “oh no I’ve been ignoring my friend and now they’re mad at me :(” and it’s SO old. Seriously, I counted the contemporary dolls that have had that storyline, and it’s thirteen*. Thirteen times we’ve covered this issue- almost all of it in quick succession- and now we have to deal with it in a historical character book while much more important things are going on! Yes, it sucks when a friend ditches you while you’re being attacked and bullied for something you’re standing up for, but once again, with how much is happening in such a short book, it just feels like a forced-in plotline that we’ve seen a billion times, and with their falling-out happening mainly due to the attention Courtney was given Isaac, it serves to make Sarah seem closed-minded at best and bigoted at worst- it’s clarified that she’s not, she’s just scared and upset with Courtney, but when you put those events so close together, it leads the reader to lump them together and get the impression that, you know, Sarah is a worse person than she is.
*Full count: Nicki (book 2), Chrissa (book 2), Kanani (2), McKenna (1 iirc?), Saige (both books), Grace (2), Lea (3), Gabriela (1 and 3), Tenney (2), Z (1), Blaire (1), Joss (1) and Kira (1).
It’s a bit weird, too, that Courtney’s... what’s the word? Vibe? with her how her story is written and marketed Is closer to the Contemporaries than the Historicals. Am I the only one feeling this? My best explanation for it is that the author, Kellen Hertz, had only written contemporary books for American Girl before- the third Lea Clark book and all four Tenney Grant books, both of which contained the Friendship Issues™ plot. I’m not at all saying she’s a bad author- I honestly love the way the Tenney books are written- and I’m not saying she couldn’t write a historical book, but it’s clear American Girl didn’t ask her to change up her style or content from what she’d done for them before, as well as giving her way too much to cover in such short books.
Conclusion
Honestly, this conclusion should be obvious- American Girl needs to expand their books again. Whether they simply allow the books to be unabridged, or go back to the six-book format, Courtney's books are too cramped to tell an effective story, let alone the poor abridged girls.
The other girls were given six-book length, so if they went back to that length or format, Courtney would have to be rewritten, at least a little- and that’s okay! There’s a lot of things that could use expansion or connection, such as her Summer trip with her Dad that was given basically one sentence in the text. Her growth with her stepfamily could be acknowledged- and honestly? I think that if these books were expanded, her mother’s mayoral arc should either continue through the books, or Maureen should become mayor before the book 2 arc. I’ve mentioned this before, but having Maureen as mayor (or even still a candidate) would put a lot of pressure on Courtney to be perfect so that nobody can say “look at how awful this woman is for doing politics instead of raising her family right”- which means that when the Isaac stuff happens, it has even more stakes for Courtney and her family. Does her Mom still support her with her own reputation on the line, and what does that say about Maureen’s character, how does it affect Courtney and the D’Amicos... that’s all fascinating stuff that was completely missed out on.
And if she was turned into a six-book format- honestly, here’s how I’d do it, just off the top of my head. It would involve a bit of event shuffling, but honestly I think it would work!
Meet Courtney - pretty much the setup for everything happening, her starting to get her Crystal Starshooter plans and her mom’s campaign beginning.
Courtney Learns a Lesson - her relationship to Tina, culminating in the Challenger incident.
Courtney’s Surprise - we move the founding of Pleasant Company over here, since Molly’s basically her Christmas Present. We’ll probably need an additional plotline- maybe similar to Julie, she can have a story on spending the holidays in different places.
Happy Birthday Courtney - end of summer, aka meeting Isaac and her trip with her Dad.
Courtney Saves the Day - Beginning of the HIV arc, ending at her presentation to her class.
Changes for Courtney - Continuation of the HIV arc as things get worse for her and Isaac, ending where Friendship Superhero ends.
Is that a perfect sorting? Probably not, I came up with it in ten minutes. But would it give Courtney space to breathe and more time to explore everything happening to her? Probably!
The tl;dr of this is honestly that American Girl are absolute cowards right now, and need to expand their books back. Their abridging is only harming their stories- which, as Courtney herself points out, are the reason girls got into their company in the first place.
#courtney moore#american girl#american girl dolls#american girls#1986#negativity#mine#americangirlstar
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list of phrases and things i would teach/show the aot characters in a modern au
eren
PERIOD
“so true bestie.”
“i was born so i ruined lunch. purposely. and i had fun doing it.”
“BEYONCÉ?? BEYONCÉ?? BEYONCÉ?? Beyoncé, sweetie, I am so sorry than an ugly ass bitch would even say something like that—are you out of your mind?? BEYONCÉ??”
every song on fever by megan thee stallion but most importantly running up freestyle and pimpin
mikasa
“what? like it’s hard?”
“my apologies.... miss girl”
every nicki minaj song in existence but she clears a floor when super bass comes on
armin
sea shanties
“maybe if you had a fucking business that you were passionate about, you would know what it takes to run a fucking business but you DON’T”
the goofy goober sequence at the end of the spongebob movie + the super weenie hut junior scene
the wizards of waverly place theme song. and that show in general
jean
“yes chef”
“does it look like i give a fuck?” “no, not one.” “how many fucks do i give?” “ZERO” “exactly, therefore your comment is: IRRELEVANT.”
the cupid shuffle (lowkey a little smooth with it and you catch him doing it while he’s cooking or something)
cody ko and noel’s that’s cringe: girl defined edition
sasha
“BE QUIET TIFFANY!! We were rooting for you—we were ALL rooting for you, HOW DARE YOU!! I have never before yelled at a girl like this!! When my mother yells at me like this, it’s because she loves me!! LEARN something from this!!”
“it’s britney, bitch.”
the lyrics to shutup and drive by rihanna despite her not having her license at all
several kpop girl group dances
connie
“that’s what she said and—i—what was that...? i—james—”
“mr stark, i don’t feel so good”
[freeze frame, record scratch] “i bet you’re probably wondering how i got here”
how to do the dougie and he’s lowkey really good at it and it’s his go to move
the whole “where is gamora... i’ll do you one better WHO is gamora... i’ll do YOU one better WHY is gamora” scene from infinity war
levi
“i’ve had a very long day. and i am very small. and i have no money. so you can imagine the kind of stress that i am under.”
also the entirety of john mulaney’s “there’s a horse loose in the hospital” bit
“that sounds like a whole lot of none of my business if you ask me”
erwin
the entirety of american boy by estelle and kanye west but he sings both parts in complete different pitches
“can i get an owa owa” and he starts saying to hange and levi, and hange always responds and levi looks at him like he’s lost his fucking marbles
that video of beyoncé telling that ex-destiny’s child member that it’s better for her to go home than to not have her luggage
hange
“okay! imma fight these gender norms!!.... DAMN these gender norms got HANDS”
the last 90 seconds of streets by doja cat but they start singing at the most random times of the day and there’s nothing anybody can do to stop them
the whip/nae nae and i would regret it immediately after
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im rewatching jatp instead of studying for the 3 tests i have tomorrow and i thought i would share my thoughts and reactions with each episode so enjoy!!....
wake up
- hearing the “1, 2, 3″ at the start of the episode gives me more serotonin than my antidepressants ever will
- julie’s slippers...that’s it...that’s the thought
- that dry ass pasta the molina’s are eating for dinner??? someone needs to give my man ray some cooking tips or a cookbook... something
-the looks the boys give julie when she says it was an OLD cd she found. as if they could be old??
-the entire julie and luke kitchen scene i mean there are no words to describe how much i am in love with scene. the banter, the flirting, luke giving this girl he literally just met an actual PIECE OF HIS SOUL so she can get music back into her life. not a single time have i watched that scene and not felt my heart literally grow cause of how cute they are.
-the entire scene when julie is singing wake up. that scene is what made me literally CRAVE watching the other episodes. like of course i was going to watch them cause i wasn’t gonna just stop watching a show after one episode, and yes the show was good already but seeing the lighting and her voice, and just everything about the scene,,,,*chef’s kiss*
bright
-flynn drinking seven sodas....SEVEN??? i would be throwing up if i drank more than like 2 and she drank seven,,,no ma’am.
- flynn and her trumpet. talented queen
- “ i wouldn’t have given you the song if i didnt think you were gonna rock it.” lmaooo im crying:)
- i start tearing up every time julie goes to play the first notes of bright,,, and then i’m full on bawling when the guys come in and play with her cause...they weren’t playing to be seen they were playing to be there for her and play to comfort her. pls i love them<3
- nick vibing in the front row
- the tech guy deserves so much more praise
flying solo
- reggie’s little butt shake or whatever you wanna call it!!
- julie’s little laugh when she yells at the guys to stop it
- “and we’re on the runway again” GENUINELY one of my favorite lines of the whole show pls i love luke’s humor
-this is the first time i noticed this but reggie’s face after alex says “DONT TELL ME HOW TO GHOST!”
-WILLIE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU<3333333
-the slow mo helmet take off,,,,me too alex me too
-willie’s little giggles:))))
- “oh-oh!”
- “no clue” alex i love you baby<3
- next season better give us a scene of flynn throwing eggs at someone’s house because i think it’s safe to say we were robbed of that experience.
- the flying solo performance is just amazing
i got the music
- just the whole opening scene is so cute ....the dancing, singing, happiness RADIATING from julie
-nick in an all white suit and fedora
-WILLEX MUSEUM DATE YEAH BABYYYYY
- carefree skateboarder bf and anxiety ridden drummer bf
- yelling. in. museums.
-alex thinking he’s literally dying again because of the salt... zero braincells in this band.
- another scene we were robbed of that i need to see in season 2...reggie singing “home is where my horse is” while alex and julie sit patiently and attentively listen to him but luke looks like he’s about to commit murder
- i get SO MUCH second hand embarrassment for julie when she looks through luke’s songbook and says “ wow luke I didn’t know you were such a romantic” julie baby i love you but...eekkkkk
- “he looks like a substitute teacher”- where did he come up with that like so many other things he could be compared to but a substitute teacher??
- “luke introduced you to rock” heck yeah it did.. literal soulmates
- would like to see a picture of the raccoon in Flynn’s backyard
- wee woo wee woo police sirens://///
- julie’s outfit ughhhh i love it
- the poster that im pretty sure says “sexiest role” behind caleb... why was that necessary
the other side of hollywood
- THE ENTIRE PERFORMANCE OF THE OTHER SIDE OF HOLLYWOOD
- i lose my absolute shit over this song omg literal chills
- the cape grab i cannot physically do this rn
- willie being so excited the entire performance and looking over to see alex’s reaction
- reggie being in awe everytime one of the girls performing does something.. me too reggie
-”well i wouldn't really call it mAAgiCcCC bUT”
- nick and his fedora again
- alex has a crush, alex has a crush on.....WILLIE
-the boys eating food for the first time in 25 years is honestly so realistic
-alex shoving a whole slice of pizza in his mouth
- lukes ‘OH MY GODDDDD’
- reggie kissing his meatball sub that looks painfully dry but also delicious
- the continuation of the other side of hollywood performance and everyone dancing
-reggie imitating caleb’s evil laugh and owen trying so hard not to break
-me getting mad at the boys for not showing up for julie and being sad with her but at the same time i’m obviously not mad at the boys just...disappointed?? idk
finally free
- how did julie get to the school if she missed the first three classes?? wasn’t she still at flynn’s house from the night before cause she slept over so did she walk to school or was she just sitting in flynn’s house by herself and one of flynn’s parents was like you gonna go to school or???
-dance class with nicky poo<3
-reggie fixing his amp in the rain
-julie’s blue dress outfit in this episode is my ABSOLUTE favorite
- the birthday candle scene makes me sob like a little baby,,,and rightfully so
- julie smart, smart to be taking calculus as what a sophomore??
- all eyes on me yes queen iconic
- alex dancing is how i dance in my brain whenever the song comes on
- finally free as a song is NEVER given enough credit and why not?? it’s my favorite song they do as a band AND the madison’s vocals and the echoing part omg i loveeeee
- and the whole performance with luke’s heart eyes. i count this performance as the moment luke like fell in love with julie...like full on just blown away with how much awe and admiration he has for her in that moment and all the time.
- julie and luke singing “and you’re a part of me” while staring directly into each others soul,,,yeah that’s love kids
edge of great
- carlos being the ghost hunter he is and tía being done with him
- luke’s pouting face
- reggie and ray making breakfast together is so wholesome. reggie really loves and seeks comfort in ray and i love that
- luke just waiting next to julie’s locker and his little “hey”
- the first time i watch this scene i thought charlie was from new york cause of the way he says “ i can't do this without you” and then i watched the cast interviews and just realized he is somewhat joey tribbiani
- jealous luke hehehehehhehehe
- “well dont you look shARrP”- yes he does luke thank you very much
- “uh oh i think someone has a crush on julie” yeah you do you little shit,,, now admit it to her
- the proud look on luke’s face when he realizes julie is still paying attention to HIM even though she’s supposed to be having a full on conversation with nick
- the shoulder push ( as someone who has had their own shoulder pushed in the middle of a high school hallway as a weird way of flirting,,,,i can definitely somewhat attest to how luke is feeling in that moment and i too continued to flirt with the person who shoulder shoved me while we were still standing in the hallway)
- the flow from whatever the hell dance nick and julie are doing and the perfect harmony dance is so special to me and i love it
-ADOANCLOBNAOVBCOAB THE HAIR PLSSSSS
- EVERYTIME THE SCENE COMES ON AND I SEE HIM WALKING THROUGH THE MIRROR I HAVE TO PAUSE THE SHOW FOR LIKE 10 MINUTES WHILE I DIE LAUGHING BECAUSE THE HAIR IS SO BAD EVEN THOUGH I SHOULD BE USED TO HOW IT LOOKS AFTER WATCHING THIS SHOW LITERALLY 30 TIMES
- i think people see my username and assume i like his hair in this scene but...ummm fun little fact i do not like it
- the dance is so good though ugh my babies
- the hair
- madison is gorgeous
- another season 2 scene i need: julie teaching this dance to luke and they perform it in front of alex and reggie so they can see luke roll on the floor like that
-the hair
- the lift i loveeee
- the voices at the end of the song *chef’s kiss*
- the way julie spins out from luke and into nick omg so good
- “thAnKs pArTnER”
- luke denying his feelings for julie,,,babe pls
- the whole edge of great performance is so good and beautiful and the colors are SPECTACULAR
-julie avoiding luke’s gaze lolz
- can't believe my mans really tried to deny he didn’t have feelings for julie like 5 hours earlier even though he’s getting upset because she hasn’t looked at him in 2 minutes
- THE. GUITAR. RIFF. SOLO.
- when i finally learn how to play the electric guitar well enough to learn the guitar solo... it’s over for everyone
-nick just came to watch the girl he likes perform not watch her flirt with a hologram plssss can we give this man a break next season.
- “we have to say goodbye to julie”- that’s literally more important to luke than not playing music anymore because julie is music to him now
unsaid emily
-already crying and the episode hasn't even started
-willex in the orpheum
- alex literally being OVER reggie
- nope too emotionally unstable to watch this scene right now
- my therapist will be hearing about this tomorrow
- show us the baby picture of luke cowards
- this is such a beautiful song that makes me cry every fucking time gosh damn it
- everytime i watch the flashback scene of luke on his bike i think of “christmas song” by phoebe bridges and i cry even more
- i tried to learn how to play this song on my electric guitar (because i dont have an acoustic guitar) and i ended up crying half way through so i do not think i will be playing it anytime soon:/
- the harmonies *chef’s kiss*
- THE POLICE LIGHTS ....i cry
- FAT tears rolling down my face
- there's literally not a moment i don’t cry during this episode
- interesting little relationship :0
- when i played percussion in 7th grade i used to lay down on the couch in the practice room at school ( which god knows what people did on that couch...ew) and stick my drumsticks up my nose too,,,, just another similarity between alex and i
stand tall
- willie really drove a bus 200 miles into the desert for his crush
- WILLEX HUG
- i love willie no last name so much,,,i just wanna hold and protect him
- alex’s ballerina dance
-julie’s overall outfit i love<3
- “im swimming”
- the way carlos hangs up the iPad on tía makes me CRACK UP he’s just lmao bye girl
- another julie outfit i love
- “anything julie. you know that.” AHHHHHAASIDSJFPACISN love bitches
- the suits
- luke’s hair in this episode is so much better than the perfect harmony hair pls
- YOU GOT NOTHING TO LOSE
- the way luke looks so restricted and confined in his suit... but at the same time he looks like a 10 week old puppy
-luke’s AGGRESSIVE but small foot tapping leading up to being on the stage
- the solos:)))))
- crying again over julie’s monologue to her mom
- julie really was brave enough to be ready to perform by herself
-the way Trevor looks at carrie when she says “been here before”
-ALEXXXXXX
-REGGIEEEEE
-luuukkKKKEEEEEEE
- this performance makes me cry
- especially the first time when i saw luke flickering...sobs
- he finally looks free in his suit:))
- alex’s solo is so pretty i love him
- reggie’s solo too
- nick just straight up vibing the entire performance
- alex and luke holding hands...hehehe cute besties
- “thank you, guys” NO THANK YOU
- the way julie begs for them to do something about the jolts for HER cause she knows luke would never say no to her
- “no music is worth making, julie, if we’re not making it with you,” I JUST SCREAMED AND IM PRETTY SURE I WOKE UP MY ENTIRE HOUSEHOLD...whoops
- going back to that line i could say so much about it but....for someone who’s life was literally MUSIC for the 17 years he was alive, and after finding out he could play music again even though he was dead and saying it made him feel alive, he would give that up- he would give up playing his guitar, playing in a band with his friends, give up writing and singing music- if he wasn’t doing that with julie. that’s more than saying i love you,,,that’s literally like saying i’d give up my ENTIRE LIFE and what i love to do if i dont get to do it with you
- i just made myself cry with that description...wow
-the hug<3
-also imagine how luke felt in that moment,,, hearing this girl, once again that he would give his life up for, saying in his ear that she loves them. i would motherfucking glow too, luke
- *passionately but gently holds each others faces*
-HANDS OFF MY BABY NICK, CALEB
- caleb’s outfit is....something
- the head turn plssss
this was so long and i am so sorry but if you read this far.....leave some of your own reactions or thoughts:)))
k goodnight im gonna, ugh, finally go study ://
#julie and the phantoms#jatp#julie molina#alex mercer#luke patterson#reggie peters#willie#flynn jatp#nick jatp#carrie wilson#renew jatp#netflix PLEASE we are begging give us a season 2
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Kalimat/كلمات
Yusuf al-Khaysani/Niccolò di Genova, 3.3k, teen, AO3 LINK
Yusuf translates medical texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling.
---
It takes Niccolò lifetimes to learn Arabic.
(I've tried pretty hard to make this at least historically feasible but I'm very sure this is just. Jam packed with mistakes. As is the Arabic langauge stuff- I got booted from the class due to dyslexia. I also hope the representation of Islam and Islamic culture is accurate.)
Languages drop from Joe’s lips easily. Nicky struggles with survival phrases in lingua francas- What Hurts in Dari and Can you breath- nod yes in Swahili and How can we help in French, but Joe can easily lose himself in the sea of a new language’s words and come up swimming, not just stringing together sentences but swallowing poetry, drama, and music. In Ughyar, Bosnian, Zapotec, Spanish, Tamil, Sylheti, Albanian. The shelves of his books line their lives. That is important to Joe, that people be seen not just as they always seem to be in western news reports - as the bodies in the ruined city- but as poets. As storytellers. As humans who struck fire with language that will survive and burn anew.
Joe recites Khachatur Abovian to calm the fractured nerves of a former schoolteacher ripped from his home while he and Nicky rush to forge passports and visas for the teacher and his wife and his seven children to make new lives in America. In a post war displaced persons camp he speaks Yiddish, reads Sholem Aleichem and Avrom Sutzkever from paperbacks pulled from the fires and then decades later in the dust of Baghdad, Arabic and al-Sayyab. And he listens, listens even more than he speaks. He listens to stories upon stories of war and loss and human suffering with his ears and his eyes and heart and a clasped hand that says, I do not claim to know your pain but I have felt my own.
Nicky sets arms and delivers babies and administers vaccines and sorts endless boxes of quinine tables and bandages. He speaks with his hands, mainly, and his bedside manner is different from Joe’s. He learned long ago to keep lollipops in the right pocket of his jacket. The first language Nicky learned to speak was the sea and the second was the wind, and spoken words come to him slower, with less agility, blending into occasionally archaic jumbles. He means to ask an assistant for an antiseptic wipe at one point, has to dig through his mind through the piles of once vital vocabulary bleached useless by time, military jargon for battles lost nine hundred years ago and colloquial derja words for plants and crops gone extinct under the tides of modern monocropping, and comes up sputtering, asking if anyone, perchance, has a neckerchief?
The linguistic stumbling of an unlettered genovese sailor versus a middle class trader’s son who learned to love the written world on his mother’s lap.
It took Nicky a human life time to master spoken Arabic, in a few of her many varieties, with her tricky mazes of roots, more decades of listening and stumbling through conversations and gentle corrections than the average human mind could take before his own readujsted to the beauty of a world described through roots with all things connected to each other.
It took him another life time again to master fusHa, the complex turns of phrase and imagery and unwritten short vowells, and a brush and then pen always felt far more alien in his hands than a sword did. (Although the precision of a pen prepares him well for the precision of a scalpel, and that, perhaps, is the instrument with which Nicky writes history.)
A thousand years ago, in the same city who’s people Joe and Nicky will die again and again for to try and pull from the ruin, the man then Yusuf wrapped his hand around the hand of the man then Niccolò and guided him through this mysterious world of written letters. Alif-ba-ta-thaa and then nun-qaf-waw-lam-alif,
اسمي نقولا
For the first time, Niccolò wrote himself down.
The script contained other mysteries and hidden trap doors. The disappearing mem that could get swallowed by lam and alif and the mysterious shape-shifting ta marbouta and the categories of sun and moon letters that lent the marks on a page a tangible quality, the burning Mediterranean sole that Niccolò’s people marked their years by and la luna by which Yusuf’s people knew their own time by.
When they had reached their first truce in the battlefield and had to learn how to say things beyond various threats and claims of the name of God, they’d each had to remake the world in a new image, relabel everything they’d thought they’d known. Shams, the enemy man had said over and over again, pointing up, and Niccolò hadn’t known if he meant “sky” or “blue” or “above” or “God” or the color “blue.” Niccolò had drawn a line in the sand, the past running to the future and tried to map out the different tenses of his own language he didn’t fully understand himself, only knew how he’d use them in a sentence. He’d hatched an x in the middle for now, drawn two little stick figures and two blobby horses, us he’d said in zenaize, then future, right of the men, past, left.
“Ahhh,” the man who Niccolò now knew as Ana Ismee Yusuf, nodded. He stood up and pointed right. “Lelshar’.” To the left. “Lel’arb.” He smiled and Niccolò thought it might be worth dying, just to see again. “Si, si. Io capiscooo.” He stretched his syllables out in a deadpan imitation of a puffed-up Genovese noble, and Niccolò laughed himself.
Several lifetimes later and Niccolò tries to label his world anew again in writing. Yusuf writes out words in large, blocky script on pieces of scap paper, marks the harakat around the words carefully in red ink. He tacks باب to the door and سَرِير to their bed and even أنا to himself. He holds up a piece of paper to the sky outside, the sun blinding their eyes momentarily before they repair. الشَّمس, the first word. Yusuf even attempts to stick قِطّ onto Amira, the sharp eyed street cat who’s wormed her wait into their household. The scratches that earns him heal quickly.
It takes Niccolò far longer than he wants anyone to know before his mind properly started to see a word and see it as a word, something more than a collection of letters but a thing that existed, definitively, in God’s world. بَيْت, what he and Yusuf have now had in Basra, Palermu, Fustat. مُحيط, like the Mare Nostrum. فَتاة, a girl like like the sister he left behind.
And then the door was opened, and Niccolò could read, or at least, understand this process of reading for himself, and more than that, he could see this part of Yusuf, so crucial to the soul he nad come to love and this heart he now held in his own. Yusuf loved words, and books, and writing, he loved his Book as the word of God to his prophet and he loved his books as connection to the mother who had first taught him suras and his father who wrote in three languages, and, he had once gold Niccolò in the quiet safety of their bed, in the night, with the first boy he had ever loved, the other star pupil at their madrassa with whom he would lie composing lines of poetry under a lemon tree.
Niccolò thought of Yusuf reading in the small, cool courtyard of the house in Damascus that would for this lifetime be their home, his mouth moving silently in prayer as his fingers followed reverently over the verses. He thought of Yusuf moving elegantly through the world, his speech dry and witty or educated where his own felt blunt, trading jokes and barbs back and forth in the tea house and the market. But mostly, Niccolò thought of Yusuf writing, face still with all the steady focus and silent reverence of prayer, bent over a carved rosewood writing desk, the sunlight streaming in through the windows setting his curls on fire. And his hands, so strong, so reliable, moving unerringly across the page, line after line of the script that Niccolò once feared and mocked because he feared but which he now knew could contain all the beauty of the world.
He practiced by writing to the those he loved but no longer walked the world.
Oum, today sun bright. I see roses in market. I think of you, when I see roses in market.
Abba, in house of God happy I know you are, happy makes it me.
Maria, to read you will love, i know. Your son man now. Good i know. Peace to you.
Niccolò burned the letters in a fire and hoped God would make it so his 'aa'ila could read them. Yusuf and Niccolò were both young in the business of being immortal. They had not learned to shoulder the pain of it yet, so they faced the loneliness, together and alone. Niccolò thought that he saw the appeal of letter writing, then, imagined a world in which he could have written his family from the Holy Land, told them that no matter how many infidels he killed to cleanse this world for the Cross he felt no closer to holiness himself, told them that the one he killed and killed and killed again he had found holiness in, told his parents that their son died and died and did not die. That he missed home, the rocky shores and fishing villages of Liguria, but that he missed them more, because his family was his home, even if there were things about him that he hid in the darker parts of himself because he knew they would never understand.
His sister’s grandchildren- or maybe her great-grandchildren, he wasn’t quite sure- were still alive, probably, but there wasn’t a way they’d respond well to the idea of a relative who’d have been forty years past death even without war sending them letters written in the alphabet they’d been taught to hate, if they could read at all.
With the ashes of his letters, he lets his family go, and prays God looks kindly upon them, and shows them mercy, and grants them peace and understanding. Every century or so, he’ll check in, he vows, even from afar, because he owes Maria that much. He hopes her son or his son or his son has not wasted his life to die in a war on foreign soil like he did, or that her daughter or her daughter or her daughter has not been left a widow.
Yusuf’s family still lived in Tunis. His sister Maryam took over the trading business after his death and made the al-Khaysani family a great name and funded many hospitals and houses of learning. News of her death reached Palermu weeks after the burial, and it was one of the few times in their long, long lives that Yusuf had to walk for months alone, to process a grief as large as the world. He let the waves of the sea and the sand of the desert swallow him again and again, and when he did not die, he rose and lifted his head to the sky and swore he would make the world as good as she wanted it to be. In every city they go to with a cathedral or even a baked mud church Niccolò lights candles for Maria and for Maryam. Santa Maria, madre de dio, they’ll pick up one day, in a language centuries off from existing. You know she is named more times in our book than yours, Yusuf told him in one one of their many cycles of death and coming back, when Niccolò called out for her, bleeding out on the sand.
When Niccolò found Yusuf again they stood with their hands clasped at her grave outside the medina and then they prayed and set off again. New cities, new tongues, new people. To avoid suspicion, they alter the sounds of their names to match the sounds of the city. Yusuf and Naaqid. Giuseppe and Niccolò. Nikolai and Iosef. Every death is shorter.
Yusuf forges the documents and the names, barters and trades, even makes several seperate respectable fortunes as a merchant of cloth and then spices before even claims of pomegranates doing wonders for one’s health start to wear a bit thin and they have to fake their deaths again. He writes, and though home quickly becomes what they can carry, he keeps sheaths of poetry in tiny, perfect script in his saddlebag, recites long poems as they make camp in the desert. Some were written by and for men like them. Others Yusuf tweaks the gender of, chooses inta over inti. Every time they die they leave a generous waqf behind.
Niccolò takes care of the horses, and then he tries to take care of people. He learns as much of these strange healing arts of the east as he can from Yosef, and then from a doctor in Basra and a Jewish apothecary in the city of Fustat. It is not blasphemy to try to know the body, he is deciding, it is not sacrilige to try as hard as one might to save a life. At some point, the knowledge goes beyond what he can remember or what a diagram can tell him, and so it’s in Damascus that Niccolò decides, even with his previous failed attempts at the aliph-baa, to ask Yusuf to teach him how to read.
And he does. It takes time, years, before he can, before he feels more man than child with a pen in his hand and he does not smear ink across the page. And there are limits. He is never a poet. His language is always more practical than- and this is a word that will not exist for centuries but that colors his memories even still- than romantic. For him heart is a thing of muscles and chords that powers a life. He reads and takes notes on Al Razi far more than Abu Nuwwas or al Muttanabi. Ibn Sina’s Canon of Medicine astounds him just as Ferdowsi’s perfect schemes of monorhymes entrance Yusuf. His sentences do not flow into rivers like Yusuf’s do. They build squat, strong houses. They encode information that Niccolò can leave behind when he dies, only to return to a century later and find that have been added on to by scholars after him, the foundations for someone else’s palace. Sometimes, the things he thought were true are completely washed away in the flood of some new discovery, and he prays and begs the forgiveness of all those he caused unnecessary pain in his ignorance.
But even in his clumsiness, the power of words surges through. Yusuf’s words and his love of words surges through to Niccolò in the years of learning, until Niccolò loves words too, just as Niccolò’s love of the sea and her many tempestuous moods and promise of infinite freedoms filters through to Yusuf. Yusuf translates texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and just as with Mary and Maryam centuries ago on a battlefield, Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling.
And Yusuf’s love of words surges up into Niccolò’s love of Yusuf too. It took him about three weeks after their initial truce to realise the man was soft, which then took him a few decades to find more endearing than annoying. That he liked sweet things and flowers and goddamn useless hobbies like calligraphy and drawing complex borders of tulips and interlocking knots along the borders of his writing papers. And he knew he was a good poet, to his own ears, that he fit words together nicely. But being able to read Yusuf’s poems, even the unwritten snippets he leaves scattered around the house, often unfinished, is something else entirely. A glimpse into being seen, by the person who sees him best. But God above, he doesn’t think anyone alive has had their eyes compared to the beauty of the sea after the desert quite so many times, or wrung as many turns of phrase from the has the double meaning of عَيْن.
“The world,” he says one night as they sit and watch night descend softly upon the City of Jasmine. It’s a city to make even the woman who will come knocking at their door in a matter of decades feel young and insignificant, and even the colloquial name suits Yusuf’s pretensions annoyingly well. Steam from cups of tea curls into the evening air. The smells of horse shit and rosewater both on the air. The calm cradle of the evening after the maghrib prayer. “You see it …” He does not know how to end it.
“How, then, do I see the world, hayati?”
“You see the stars above a battlefield. You see the stars and then the fields that will grow again after the ashes are tilled into the soil. You see stars as gems, and the windstorms of the desert is the finest music, if you would believe your poems.
“And you are angry that I have seen the good in the world? I would not call the man who came to a foreign land to kill the infidel and came to spend a hundred years learning best to save their lives a man who does not see beauty in unexpected things either.”
“You are-”
He looks for a word, any word in his mind that has learned so many. Unchanging would not be right for the man who once killed him so many times and learned Greek and Latin to read him the words of the Apostles as they were written, who has accompanied him on pilgrimages to Antioch and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. He has changed as much as Niccolò has. No, it’s something-
“You are looking at me as you look at your patients.” Yusuf reaches out and brushes back Niccolò’s hair. He kisses his forehead. A kiss from Yusuf, no matter how chaste or how many, still sends lightning through his body.
“As if you were ill?”
“No. You look with such focus upon the world, with so much kindness about how to help it heal.” For a time whose number has since gone beyond count, their hands interlink. “We cannot save the world, but we can save some, and by saving some, we can save the world. We will work to repair what is broken.”
“I have found the cause of your affliction.”
“What do you consider me afflicted by, Doctor Al-Zenowaizi?”
The word romantic is still more than six centuries out, although they’ll soon wander through Europe during the heyday of the romance, and Yusuf will even write a few himself in Occitan and Provençal. For now, though, the word carries the implications of Roma and the waning Basileion Rhomaion to the north, to the al-Rum rite of the Damascene churches he now celebrates the Eucharist in, the river of his faith turned down a different course. For now, though, the word romantic remains firmly in the future. No, it’s something else he thinks of.
“Hope. You have a most serious case of hope.”
“And what do you suggest as remedy, Doctor Al-Zenowaizi?”
Niccolò pulls him in for a proper kiss, long and deep and hot and sweet and bitter from the tea. He loses himself in the warmth of his body, his hands in the curls of his hair, and he thinks how blessed he has been by God that this is the man he has been destined to spend forever with.
“Albi, I do not think there is one. I think you have been cursed with an incurable case of hope.”
#the old guard#joe x nicky#the old guard fic#yusuf x nicolo#yusuf al-kaysani#nicolo di genova#my writings
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Ouroboros (S2, E8)
The hiatus almost killed me. So glad we have new content <3
As usual, my time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.
SPOILERS AHEAD:
0:04 - That scarf is so extra.
0:26 - OH LOOK THE FIRST SUNSHINE SIGHTING OF SEASON TWO!!! It only took 8 episodes. *insert eyeroll*
0:40 - Ugh. This montage makes me hate Hoxley. He embodies the type of human I abhor: self-important, egotistic, obsessed with appearance.
1:19 - “No I didn’t.” LMAO. Mr. David is so done with Martin’s bullshit.
1:36 - That makeshift shiv in the dude’s arm.....that’s Daryl’s shiv from a few episodes ago right? Am I going crazy?
2:25 - Sooooo Birdie hasn’t left New York? She’s moved into the Milton’s “Murrayville Building”. Huh. Wait. Was Birdie in the house when Malcolm and Ainsley fought? Do you think she heard?!? Birdie might become a problem for the Whitly’s later this season....I hope?
2:43 - Jessica doesn’t know about the contents of the fight. Interesting. How long has it been since the end of 2x7?
2:58 - “I’ll be there at 8.” hahaha OMG. I swear Malcolm was a terror during his ‘rebellious teenager’ phase.
3:38 - Yep. This fog horn reinforces the fact that I believe Hoxley is a dick.
3:40 - Awww.... the way Malcolm jumps/flinches at the fog horn is both hilarious and adorable.
3:58 - “And who the hell are you?” YES GIL. YES. Don’t let him talk like that to Malcolm <3
4:04 - Duuuuude. Gil looks pissed and scared. He does not like Europol snooping around his crimes. ALSO I’m like 95% sure that Gil knows (or at least has a hunch) that Malcolm is somehow involved with Endicott’s murder. I’m pretty sure Gil is scared that this dude is going to try and arrest Malcolm.
4:07 - OMG. JT is adorable. “You’re that guy. The mind sleuth.” Personal headcanon: JT read Hoxley’s book to try and understand Malcolm better.
4:22 - DANI IS MY QUEEN. SHE IS MY ICON. I LOVE HER SO FREAKING MUCH. “No.” This girl is fierce. <3
4:23 - <3 <3 Malcolm’s heart eyes, head tilt, and visible pride is so so so precious. THIS is why he’s attracted to Dani. She’s not afraid to assert herself.
4:31 - “And then took in his son.” ....Okay, so this infuriated me. Nothing Hoxley is saying is untrue. BUT something about the way he’s saying it just gets under my skin.
4:45 - I think Hoxley is pissing me off so much because he’s psychoanalyzing Malcolm in front three of the people Malcolm trusts and loves most in the world (3 out of a very very short list of people). He’s trying to humiliate Malcolm and I hate it. I hate that Dani, JT, and Gil haven’t told Hoxley to shut up. I hate that Hoxley is trying to drive stakes of doubt into the three people whose opinion Malcolm treasures.
5:25 - “Aim a little lower, Whitly.” and and and.....then Hoxley looks to the team as though he wants them to laugh. I’m furious.
5:32 - THANK YOU GIL. STEER THE CONVERSATION AWAY FROM MALCOLM
6:04 - Malcolm is so obvious. There’s no way that the team doesn’t know that he was involved with Endicott’s murder. If they didn’t before this episode - they HAVE to know now. Right? They’re detectives. Malcolm is a terrible liar.
7:00 - Oh. So now Ainsley cares about the crime. Now it’s “how much trouble are we in”. And let’s be real. Ainsley doesn’t even seem very worried or scared. She’s concerned that the crime will get out - she’s not sorry she committed the crime. She’s not sorry that her big brother tried to take the fall for her.
7:15 - “We said no more secrets.” ...when. When did you two say that? Was there a ‘fight part 2 - the tentative truce’ that we didn’t get to see?
7:33 - A mention of Sophie Sanders. Finally. I still hope she comes out of the woodwork and takes the fall for this. I want more closure on her. Did the team ever find out that Malcolm found her? How did the Eddie murder finally get resolved (I’m not satisfied with the “not every case gets solved” line)?
7:42 - Yo. I don’t care about the time constraint of a 45 minute episode. I don’t care that it was required to move the plot along. The fact that Ainsley starts typing frantically into the computer at about 7:42, stops typing at 7:47ish and has found at least 4 different articles relating to murdered random people (who apparently helped hide Endicott’s body?) is SO UNREALISTIC. I just can’t. I can’t suspend my disbelief on this one. The article headlines say nothing about ‘couriers’. It’s stuff like ‘Local fisherman found dead’. HOW THE HELL WOULD AINSLEY KNOW THEY WERE HELPING MALCOLM IN LESS THAN 10 SECONDS OF GOOGLING?!? Nope. I can’t justify this one. Fedak - you dropped the ball.
8:40 - Poor Malcolm looks terrified. :(
9:04 - My first impression of Natalie was that she’s a beautiful young lady who seems really sweet and a little socially awkward. Kudos to the actress.
9:41 - Another mention of Sophie. God - I hope she becomes a twist in this season’s storyline. I’m not content with how her story arc ended.
10:21 - “I didn’t have anything to do with Endicott’s death and neither did Jessica.” Yep. Gil definitely knows (or at least suspects) that Ainsley and Malcolm are somehow involved with Endicott’s murder. It’s killing me that we’re not getting the big “team and/or Gil find out and/or confront Malcolm about it” moment.
10:31 - OMG. Alan Cumming’s eyebrow wag here. hahahahaha
10:35 - Look at how pissed off Gil is as soon as Hoxley suggests that he and Jessica have a romantic history. 1) Gil still has it bad for Jessica (and is hurt that she rejected him again 2) Gil’s a pretty private dude and probably doesn’t like his personal business being speculated upon by a total stranger with ill intent 3) Gil is also getting protective of the Whitly’s. Not just Jessica but Malcolm (and maybe Ainsley) too.
10:58 - Europol agents aren’t allowed to make arrests?!? THEN WTF IS THE POINT OF HOXLEY’S CHARACTER?!? TO DRIVE DOUBT INTO THE MINDS OF THE TEAM WITH REGARDS TO MALCOLM?!? FOR REAL. WHY?! TO FORCE GIL TO ARREST MALCOLM AND AINSLEY?!?!
11:08 - “To watch you put the cuffs on Mr.Endicott’s killer. Deal?” “Deal.” oooooooohhhhhh no. I do not like the foreshadowing here. If Gil has to arrest Ainsley and/or Malcolm.....idek. Part of me wants to watch it for the emotional whump (of all parties - including Jessica). Part of me wants to ugly cry at the thought of it though.
11:39 - “How do you know so much about yachts?” ....THANK YOU JT. DANI HAS A STRANGE AMOUNT OF NAVAL KNOWLEDGE IN THIS EPISODE AND WE ALL KNOW “I watch a lot of Below Deck” IS UTTER HORSE CRAP. Ugh. I want to know more about Dani and JT’s personal lives. So. Badly.
11:44 - <3 <3 <3 The look Malcolm and JT exchange when Dani claims that she watches a lot of Below Deck is absolutely precious. It’s like they’re best friends and/or brothers. They both knew Dani was lying. <3
11:54 - “At least he’s the real deal.” Ouch. I honestly can’t tell if JT is just teasing Malcolm here or if JT genuinely believes this. ....Is this JT’s way to letting Malcolm know that he has suspicions about his involvement with Endicott’s death?
12:06 - “Says the guy who bought his book.” HA. Dani is on fire this episode. The snark queen. Look at how pleased Malcolm is that Dani is defending him. <3 Warms my cold dead heart.
12:09 - annnnndd now JT is definitely teasing Malcolm. “What our boy Bright needs is a moniker.” hahaha watching Dani and JT come up with stupid profiler monikers was so cute. I love it when the team gangs up to (lovingly) tease Malcolm.
12:30 - “No. Nothing yet.” Again - Malcolm is a terrible liar. The team must know that he’s involved with this thing. They’re detectives.
12:59 - Martin’s physical reaction to Malcolm saying, “No. That woman does not deserve to die.” Is HILARIOUS. Martin is so freaking desperate for Malcolm to become a serial killer that he doesn’t even care the Ainsley has already murdered someone.
13:19 - “He has a perfect track record.”.....what? So does that mean he’s solved every case he’s ever worked on? Taken credit for solving every case he’s ever work on? Hand picked the cases he works on so he knows he can solve them? Probably a combination of the above. Sometime about Hoxley reminds me of Gilderoy Lockhart from Harry Potter. You feel me?
13:23 - The fact that Tom Payne (a Brit) is being told that Hoxley has “perfect teeth. For a Brit” by a Welsh man is hilarious.
13:34 - Does this fish packing joint have no security?!? Like Malcolm didn’t have to pick a lock or anything. He just walked right in (and he’s not being quiet).
13:51 - “I can think ruthless. I don’t know if I can be ruthless.” THIS. THIS is Malcolm in a nutshell. Think about Nicky Covington. Malcolm wanted to act ruthless but he couldn’t. He ended up saving Nicky because he couldn’t go through with his ruthless plan. That’s the difference between Malcolm and (quite frankly) the rest of his family. Jessica, Martin, and Ainsley can all be ruthless. All of them. Jessica on a lesser degree but Martin and Ainsley are confidently ruthless. Often.
13:57 - Ok. For real though. HOW HAS NO ONE OVERHEARD THESE PHONE CALLS BETWEEN MARTIN AND MALCOLM. THE PHONES HAVE TO BE TAPPED RIGHT?!? IN A SECURE MENTAL INSTITUTION FOR MURDERERS?!? and I stg that Mr. David knows things. That man is not a moron and he’s pieced stuff together (not from this scene obviously, but still).
14:13. - “Why don’t I break out.” The fact that Malcolm hasn’t mentioned that Martin wants to escape to anyone (since 2x4) is really stressing me out. I know Martin’s going to break out - the promos have made that very obvious but I’m still anxious about it. Mostly I’m worried for the health and safety of Malcolm (and Gil, Jessica, Dani, JT, Edrisa...).
14:17 - “We all go on the run together.” Martin is delusional. He thinks that the whole family will go on the run with him?!?!? He might be able to convince Ainsley. He might be able to blackmail or threaten Malcolm. BUT Jessica? She’s not going willingly. Hell - she might kill him herself if Martin escapes and tries to come near her (which.....I would actually kind of like to see).
14:48 - The fact that Malcolm apologizes to a corps is so precious. Really reinforces the fact that Malcolm is not a killer.
15:00 - Oh look. Another scene for Malcolm’s nightmares. “The time I cut off a dead guy’s thumb to protect my sister”
15:24 - annnndd Malcolm is really close to having a panic attack. Look at that face. :( Someone give this guy a hug. Please.
15:34 - Where the HELL is Edrisa!?!?!?
15:42 - Malcolm, you utter moron. What possessed your stupid ass to show up at a crime scene with a soaking wet arm and draw attention to your arm by shaking it?!?! WHEN THE BODY WAS JUST DRAGGED OUT OF A VAT OF WATER. AND YOU TAMPERED WITH THE BODY?!!? YOU DUMBASS.
15:52 - This is Gil - terrified. He’s scared because 1) he knows Malcolm is lying , 2) he’s concerned for Malcolm’s mental health and 3) he’s starting to think that either a) Malcolm killed this guy, b) Malcolm knows who killed this guy and is obstructing justice, or c) Hoxley is going to pin this on Malcolm and Gil won’t be able to save him.
16:14 - “I’m never buying frozen fish again.” hahaha Dani is killing it this episode. <3
16:23 - Check out how Gil is staring at Malcolm. Gil totally thinks Malcolm has the thumb.
16:50 - “Older model” Shit. Seriously? Are finger print scanners on phones old?!? My phone isn’t that old......I got it 6 years ago?
17:16 - MALCOLM IS A TERRIBLE LIAR. Honestly, the pure terror on his face throughout most of this episode screams “I KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT THE MURDER.” If the team hasn’t pieced this together yet they’re not worthy of being detectives.
17:29 - I’m not going to lie. I had to fast forward through the Martin/Capshaw scenes for the rewatch. I find them so upsetting to watch. I just can’t do it more than once. Their whole dynamic is gross, creepy, and just ugh.
20:00 - Jessica and Hoxley talking about Endicott’s death is so satisfying.
20:35 - “Jessica Whitly. Played for a fool. Yet. Again.” Ok Hoxley. You are not allowed to disrespect my girl Jessica like that.
21:10 - The biggest problem with Jessica and Gil’s “mock interrogations” by Hoxley is that neither of them mention Ainsley or Malcolm. It’s super suspicious. They mention other people by name. People who should be connected to Ainsley and/or Malcolm given the context of the sentence. Hoxley is a moron for not nailing Ainsley and Malcolm for the crime during this episode. It’s so so so obvious.
21:19 - hahahahahahahaha Jessica grabbing the martini out of Hoxley’s hands. hahahahaha I stan.
21:35 - annnnnd Jessica is a terrible liar as well. Seriously - why doesn’t she just say “ENDICOTT WAS KILLED OVER HERE!!”. Another parallel between her and Malcolm though. Malcolm + Jessica can’t lie well. Ainsley + Martin are expert liars.
22:54 - Again. Ainsley is intrigued at the fact that Malcolm has a thumb in his freezer. Much like Martin would be if he knew. Jessica on the other hand shares Malcolm’s fear and disgust about the situation.
23:00- “We”?!!?!? AINSLEY YOU HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING. MALCOLM HAS BEEN COVERING FOR YOUR ASS. YOU JUST HAVEN’T TURNED YOURSELF IN AFTER YOU REMEMBERED. THAT’S YOUR ONLY CONTRIBUTION TO THE “KEEPING ENDICOTT’S MURDER A SECRET” SITUATION.
23:07 - “Do you even see what you are doing to him.” This line both terrified and delighted me. On one hand - I’m grateful that Jessica can see how much emotional pain Malcolm is in because of this situation. One the other hand - Ainsley looks pissed that Jessica is blaming her for Malcolm’s general brokenness. If Ainsley goes full serial killer - Malcolm is going to be on her list. “The brother that overshadowed her.” “The favourite child” “The reason she had to be a perfect daughter” “The reason she was ignored”
23:32 - “Got it.” Damn. Ainsley is bitter. She wants to control this situation. She doesn’t like taking orders from Malcolm.
25:00 - MR.DAVID IS RIGHT THERE. IF HE DOESN’T BLOW THE WHISTLE ON THIS I’M GOING TO BE SO DISAPPOINTED.
25:12 -”The Brain Fart” hahahahaha OMG.
25:53 - “You’re being rude Hoxley.” ......Martin being the nice guy? I’m genuinely disgusted.
26:26 - “Your son Malcolm.” THIS. THIS is why Ainsley is so pissed off. Everyone has always thought Malcolm would turn out like Martin. Ever since they were kids. She’s pissed off that no one considers her to be a threat. They’re all concerned for and scared of Malcolm. Not her. She’s invisible. Why do you think she became a TV reporter? To force people to see her.
26:50 - I’ve never wanted to Martin to kill anyone more than I have in this moment. I do find Martin’s protective love for Malcolm interesting though.
27:37 - How long was that phone in water before Malcolm grabbed it?!? Anyone ever drop a phone in water? I don’t care how much rice you have. It’s toast 90% of the time.
27:44 - Malcolm explaining murder to Sunshine is so cute.
28:22 - And my heart rate has skyrocketed.
29:10 - “To protect your sister.” Huh. I find it interesting that Hoxley has considered that Malcolm may have killed Endicott to protect Ainsley. It suggests that he thinks Endicott was a threat to Ainsley alive. Makes me wonder about what happened to Ainsley before Malcolm got back to the house in 1x20.
29:16 - “You all had something to gain.” Did they though? Martin had something to gain - keeping his cushy Claremont cell. Ainsley had something to gain - “A news story.” Jessica had something to gain - “safety”. But Malcolm? He didn’t personally have anything to gain. He wanted his Mom and sister safe but he never thought about himself.
30:11 - “Perhaps the murder weapon is still among your mother’s silver.” I find it interesting Hoxley has pieced that together. I also find it highly unbelievable but that’s just me.
30:15 - Hoxely, rich people don’t carve their own Christmas roasts. The Whitly’s have staff for that.
30:24 - “You’re still just a scared little boy. Hungry for daddy’s love.” Ouch. It’s true but it still hurts. This is not helping Malcolm’s mental state. At all. Istg if we don’t get a Malcolm mental health crisis soon I’m going to have my own mental health crisis. Seriously. I want to see this boy lose it. I’m a monster. I know. I want ugly crying. I want panic attacks. I want him to go catatonic. I want someone to comfort him.
32:35 - Nat’s a good liar. Very convincing. Too bad Malcolm’s a good profiler.
33:53 - Check out Spider Monkey Malcolm. <3
34:14 - Earlier this episode when Malcolm said he can think ruthless but not be ruthless? This is the proof. He could’ve sat back and let Natalie kill Hoxley. In some ways - it would be good for Malcolm. But Malcolm’s not ruthless. He values human life. He’s an A+ dude. For better or for worse he tries to help people.
34:26 - Really Hoxley? Do you plan on stabbing Malcolm?!? (FYI - this scene is very reminiscent of Lockhart pulling his wand on Harry and Ron in the Chamber of Secrets #justsaying).
34:45 - “I’m going to be killed by a millennial. What a twist.” hahahhahahahahhaa
35:22 - “I’m British.” hahaha I love this scene so much.
37:14 - FINALLY THE PAPA!GIL CONTENT WE”VE BEEN WAITING FOR. (it’s weak but I’ll take it)
37:39 - AHHHH the fact that Gil and Malcolm are both non-verbally communicating that Natalie didn’t kill Endicott is killing me. Does Malcolm think that Gil hates him? Does Gil really think Malcolm killed Endicott? Or just that Malcolm covered it up? I NEED TO KNOW.
37:46 - Concerned!Gil and a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. <3 <3 <3 My icy heart has melted.
37:54 - annnnnd Hoxley ruins the moment.
39:39 - I’m not content with this ending. It’s all too convenient. Hoxley still thinks Ainsley and Malcolm did it. Mark my words. This isn’t over.
39:53 - Ainsley is so smug here. I want to slap her. She’s elated that she’s getting away with murder. She doesn’t care about how it’s hurting her family.
40:00 - Did they really do the interview inside Jessica’s house?!?! Gross.
40:17- I might be the only one but I love that polo on Malcolm. Something about it is adorable.
40:22 - ......is Ainsley really trying to take credit for “putting this Endicott mess behind us”?!?! Because - she didn’t. OMG. She absolutely didn’t. Even if she did - she’s the reason they’re in the mess to being with!!!!!!! I can’t. I just....can’t.
40:45 - The episode ends right here for me. I know Capshaw and Martin kiss. It makes me want to hurl and I refuse to watch it again. I also know that Capshaw takes the scissors away from Martin. I think their whole dynamic is upsetting and creepy. I’m like 95% sure that Capshaw is a serial killer on the DL. Or at least some sort of psychopath. Martin and Capshaw are both manipulating each other and it’s too stressful to watch.
I didn’t love this episode. It was a bit all over the place. If you stuck around this long - thank you. I’ll see you guys next week. <3
#jess-rewatches-prodigal#malcolm bright#prodigal son#gil arroyo#dani powell#JT Tarmel#ainsley whitly#martin whitly#edrisa tanaka#jessica whitly#I LOVE this show#whump#rewatch#spoliers#malcolm needs a hug#ps#so good#ouroboros#2x8#2x08#s2#e8#alan cummings#simon hoxley
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CQL! Or if someone has already said, then The Old Guard
(from this ask game)
Hi Jackie! I haven't thunk thoughts about The Old Guard for a long time actually, so you get answers for both fandoms!
MDZS/CQL:
Blorbo - do I need to even say it. Jiang Cheng is the third most used tag on my entire blog right after the MDZS and CQL general tags. He contains multitudes and is the Blorboist Blorbo I've had in years, if not ever. Love him <3
Scrunkly - my boy Wen Ning, second overall favorite after Jiang Cheng. He tries so hard! Tries to be kind! And honestly the Ghost General aesthetic is kind of a vibe sometimes
Scrimblo Bimblo - I really feel like the vibe of the title doesn't fit her but I wanna say Qin Su. I just really love her and I like exploring the sides of her we didn't see. Yes she was in like 3 scenes one of which was her death but I do not care!
Glup Shitto - Okay he's not exactly obscure but I also feel like I don't talk about him as much as I should and he's also not a huge player in the plot so: Lan Jingyi. Chicken Wing Lan Dumbass My Beloved. I forget how much I like him from time to time and then I remember it again and it's nothing but Jingyi thoughts for a straight week
Poor Little Meow Meow - I don't operate on the Yi City side of fandom as much but Xue Yang is the MOST Poor Little Meow Meow you can get here and I think he's neat
Horse Plinko: *stares at fic drafts in notes app* Tormenting Jiang Cheng has been my career for almost the last year and a half. He can have two spots on this list
Eeby Deeby - Wei Wuxian. He’s canonically gone to superhell and come back so no harm done there
The Old Guard:
Blorbo - Nicky!!!! Competent Mom Friend of the Guard, I’d also say he’s the most empathetic out of the immortals but he’ll also do exactly what he has to if you’re hurting people he decided to protect. I also like that he’s the sniper of the team, very cool of him
Scrunkly - Joe. Marwan Kenzari’s smile is a goddamn gift to this world, that’s all I have to say for myself
Scrimblo Bimblo - I know the past of the Old Guard is so cool to dig into and there’s so much history there, but Nile is literally the co-protagonist of this story and she’s doing her (excellent, amazing, showstopping best). Didn’t appreciate her as much as I should’ve on the first couple watches but now I say good for her!!
Glup Shitto - Celeste, aka the girl in the store in France who helps Andy with her wounds. She’s the one who brings up the point of Andy’s arc and the concept of paying forward deeds you yourself don’t think mean anything. Also I’m bi
Poor Little Meow Meow - Booker. Sad depressed Frenchman making highly questionable decisions and having to live on with the consequences heh
Horse Plinko - Merrick. Dying on impact from a skyscraper fall was effective but that man needed to regret his decisions first
Eeby Deeby - .... I’m sorry Quynh, but canon already went through the superhell thing for you so it means it’s already taken care of and I don’t have to give you additional hurt
Thanks for the ask!
#tog doesn't have a huge cast list rip#looking forward to the sequel#mdzs#cql#the old guard#ashton answers#ask game#nyx4
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the guard in the wild west bc it’s 1am and my math homework is hard
they probably just...... chilled. in a little town. they needed downtime
they’re regulars at the saloon (obviously)
booker and the bartender are best friends ever since booker got in a bar fight (the first one, certainly not the last) and managed to push him out of the way of a flying bottle
yes, booker has a crush on the bartender. yes, the others mock him ruthlessly for it.
nicky goes to church on sundays. he’s not as faithful as he used to be, but he likes seeing the kids, and it’s nostalgic in a way
every woman in town has a crush on andy because they have taste
since they decided to settle down for a little while, they needed income. nicky is the town doctor, and joe opens up a tailoring business.
booker and andy make most of their money gambling. most residents refuse to play poker with either of them, but anyone passing through who doesn’t know any better ends up losing a lot of money to them.
the sheriff was past his prime when they arrived, and by the time a few decades have passed, he needs a replacement. andy takes over
at one point, a gang of bandits attacked the town. only one made it out alive, and that was only so he could tell any other potential threats to stay away. they did.
the number of times andy has fought a man who underestimated her in the saloon.....
she was accused of cheating once when she found herself with a particularly impressive hand during a game of poker, and this asshole decided to break a bottle over her head in his drunken frustration
once she got her bearings, andy completely kicked his ass
the boys watched from the bar. she didn’t need their help and honestly it was funny to see everyone else’s reactions
joe and nicky have babysat for almost every family in town and they are so good at it. the kids LOVE them
booker, please get out of the saloon
on their last day before moving on, booker and joe had a showdown on main street at high noon for no reason other than dramatics and “cmon andy it’ll be funny”
they shot at almost the exact same time - joe managed to get booker in the gut, while booker hit joe’s leg
andy and nicky just dragged them onto their horses and left without addressing any of the many questions they were bombarded with on the way out
oh, and andy passed down her sheriff’s badge to her deputy, who was a young girl when the guard first arrived and who andy trained as she grew up
add more!
#the old guard#nicolo di genova#yusuf al kaysani#joe x nicky#andromache the scythian#sebastien le livre#joe tog#nicky tog#andy tog#booker tog
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Till Kingdom Come
Chapter Ten: The Black Belle of the West
AN: Welp, it’s 2021 and guess what? The world is still shitty, but hey, at least I feel slightly rejuvenated from my brief hiatus.
Word Count: 3.8k
Trigger Warnings: racism, dated language, period-era homophobia
Taglist: @nerds4life246 @leahnicole1219
Chapter Eleven: Green-eyed
Sabine's legs dangled from the wagon she sat on top of, her limbs swinging back and forth absentmindedly as she waited for everyone to finish their afternoon errands. Lowly, she read aloud the foreign words from the page of the book in front of her until a loud, metallic sound was slammed down next to her. Sabine flinched and almost lost her grip on the German language book that was comfortably resting in her hands. Her head whipped to the side to look at the offender who caused her such a fright, she was met with the sight of Bastien's face.
Well, the side of it at least.
"Christ Bastien!" she breathed. "You didn't have to slam that thing down so hard on the wagon," she informed, shaking her head.
There was no response. Matter of fact, Bastien hadn't spoken a word to her since last night after Hans had rode off from their home. It wasn't long after that Bastien would leave as well, riding furiously off into the night. Sabine implored him several times to tell her what was wrong and why was he so upset as he climbed onto his horse, but her pleas just fell on deaf ears. Hours would pass since Bastien's disappearance to who knows where, leaving Andy, Nicky, and Josef curious to know what transpired outside that made him leave in such a hurry.
And all eyes fell on her.
Words could not describe how awkward it was for Sabine to explain to her three friends the chain of events that led to the current set of circumstances. By the end of her narration, Andy's brow was raised, Nicky sipped from his cup to hide the small smile that threatened to break on his face, Josef grinned unashamed, and Sabine felt as though her ears were red hot. Time dragged on and on until they finally realized that Bastien would not be returning home anytime soon that night. They weren't really worried though, it's not like he could he die. He would find his way back home, eventually. But imagine their surprise as they rode into Graybrook this morning only to see the Frenchmen there as well.
Unsurprisingly, leaving the saloon.
"Good morning to you too," Sabine greeted dryly, watching him organize the goods he purchased. Once again, Bastien didn't his open mouth to speak, he was clearly determined to disregard her presence. "Is this what we're doing now?" she asked, but it was more of a rhetorical question.
Bastien eyes were down focused on his current task, his handsome features tainted with a dark mixture of misery and resentment. Sabine could see the fine beads of sweat gathered on his brow caught in the bright sunlight like crystals on his skin. The more he moved next to her, the more she was exposed to a strange scent that emanated from him. It smelled almost...sweet. Another whiff of the scent wafted in Sabine's direction causing a slight frown to form on her face. Leaning closer to him, Sabine sniffed his shirt, the fragrance clinging to the fabric.
The perfume was so strong that it made her slightly lightheaded.
"You smell like a brothel," Sabine commented, not meaning to sound as snippy as she did. "Had a late night at a house of ill repute?" she questioned, lifting her eyebrow.
Sabine in all her short years as an immortal, had avoided brothels, unless it was absolutely necessary. Make no mistake, she had nothing against the prostitutes that worked in them, because everyone has to make a living somehow, right? She just usually left those little escapades to Bastien and Andy while Nicky, Josef, and herself liked to unwind in saloons. In the past, Sabine was rather indifferent about Bastien's trips to such houses since...everyone needs to find a release somewhere. But never in a thousand years did she think she would find herself in this position.
Welling jealousy boiled inside of Sabine, she could hardly stand it.
"Why do you care?" Bastien snapped, finally looking over at her. "Don't you have your German suitor to worry about?" he asked mockingly.
Sabine snapped her book shut with one hand, "No, he left for Texas," she replied, her tone clipped.
"And so another lover of yours leaves," he mused, stacking another medium sized tin on top of the other. "I wouldn't worry too much if I were you," he continued. "You'll find another man to entertain you. You always do," he added, a sneer on his face.
"Excuse me?"
Bastien rubbed his hands together knocking the dust off them, "Maybe next time, you'll stumble across a Dutch man," he suggested, with a sardonic chuckle.
A frown formed onto Sabine's face, "I'm sorry, are you still a bit drunk?" she questioned, feeling her temper rise higher from Bastien contemptuous attitude towards her.
"It's like what Joe said right?" he reminded, hooking his thumbs in his suspenders. "You just have the ability to enamor European men," he went on. "Like how flies are attracted to honey," he ridiculed.
Sabine tossed her book down next to her, "So this is what's got you in a such a foul mood," she stated, letting out a breathy chuckle. "You're upset that Hans kissed me," she remarked, and Bastien's eyes narrowed. "No, 'upset' is not the right word. You're jealous Bastien," she corrected, pointing her finger at him.
"No more jealous than you were at the realization that I slept with a prostitute," he retorted.
Bastien's observation had caught Sabine off guard and stunned her into a momentary silence, unconsciously she leaned away from him. Had she been that obvious earlier? Regaining her composure, Sabine pushed herself off the wagon bed and hopped onto the ground, pulling herself to her full height.
"What would I have to be jealous of Bastien?" Sabine questioned, staring up at the man in front of her. "It's not like anything has happened between the two of us, right? she asked again, Bastien's Adam's apple bobbed and clenched his hand into a fist by his side.
"You know that's a lie," he gritted out.
"Is it?" Sabine countered, both of her brows raised. "The river? Your bedroom? It might as well not had happened since we never discussed it afterwards," she pointed out, folding her arms together.
He scoffed, "And your solution to that was to dally with Hans?" Bastien asked incredulously.
"I don't see why I shouldn't have," she responded, with a small shrug. "At least I knew what he wanted from me," she retorted. “He didn’t leave me in limbo,” she added spitefully, before walking off purposefully bumping into Bastien’s shoulder in the process.
Sabine didn’t know where she was going, she just knew that she needed to be far away from Bastien.
“Men,” she thought.
Stepping onto the platform of the saloon, she leaned against one of the beams supporting the roof of the porch, observing the passers-by that traveled through the town to take her mind off Bastien. A heavy set mustachioed Mexican entered in the general store, Chinese railroad workers passed through probably on their way to their job,
Sabine could see Sheriff Lane standing on the porch of his office, eying the new arrivals in town with suspicion, his hands resting on top of the guns in their holster. He was waiting for them to make the slightest wrong move so he would have a reason to toss them in a cell. Her attention shifted downwards when a little girl walked up to where she was and stood in front of her.
The girl stared up at her with big eyes, "Excuse me, Miss. But why are you dressed like a boy?" she asked innocently, with a strong southern drawl.
Sabine guessed that the girl couldn't be any older than seven.
"Well, I like to wear things that are comfortable," she explained simply, with a shrug. "Trust me, in a couple of years, you'll know why I'm not fond of corsets or whatever the latest fashion has in store for you," she responded.
The girl opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off as her mother stormed over, grabbing her by the arm.
"Amy! How dare you disappear like that?!" she snapped, at her frightened daughter.
"It's all right, Miss. She was just asking me a question," Sabine interjected, trying to diffuse the situation.
Apparently, the woman hadn't even noticed her before Sabine spoke. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her eye sockets, as she seized her up. The woman looked at her with a look of disgust, as if Sabine's very existence was offensive to the woman. Which, it probably was in her mind since Sabine was black.
"Let's go!" The mother of the child ordered, making it clear that there was no room for any argument.
Hurriedly, she dragged her daughter away from her, "Bitch," Sabine muttered underneath her breath.
Just as Sabine was about to turn her attention elsewhere, Josef's figure emerged from behind a passing traveler. He strolled over to her with a grin on his face, joining her on the porch.
"Okay, what happened between you two?" he asked, briefly glancing towards Bastien who was tending to his horse. "Because he won't tell me anything,"
"Nothing," Sabine replied, now inspecting her nails.
"Bullshit," Josef retorted. "What happened between you and Book?" he asked, repeating himself.
"Nothing happened, I can assure you that Josef," her tone did not waver, it sounded slightly forced, but nonetheless she still sounded calm.
"Ah, yes! I guess that would explain Booker's moodiness and your snappiness," he replied sarcastically, and Sabine just cut her eyes in his direction. "Hey!" he exclaimed slightly, lifting his arms up in surrender. "I'm just reporting what I'm seeing," he reasoned. "Whatever transpired today, I think the both of you should just come clean with each other," he suggested simply, crossing his arms.
"Come clean?"
"Yes," Josef answered, nodding his head. "It's rather obvious that Booker is jealous that your German beau kissed you," he commented, turning his body to face her. "Anyone with half a brain can see that,” he joked, laughing a little.
Sabine stole a glance at the Frenchman, “You just have it all figured out don’t you?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Yes, I do,” Josef answered proudly. “You yourself won't admit that you have feelings for Booker," he pointed out. Sabine opened her to speak, but found herself silenced by the mere arch of Josef's brow. "Do you deny my brilliant skills of observations?" he questioned, a knowing smirk on his lips.
A deep sigh parted Sabine’s lips and she turned her head to look at Josef.
"No,"
~~~x~~~
The air smelled sweet and savory, the winds were warm and pleasant and the singing of many filled the air as the Juneteenth festivities filled the evening sky. The sun had begun its descent behind the trees, making way for night to come. But the setting sun and eventual darkness didn't bother anyone for lanterns had already been lit for the night.
John wrote a letter and he laid it on the table
No one can read'em like old John
Read 'em let me go
In the center of Hickory a large circle had been formed by the residents, dancing and singing along to the old ring shout. Arm in arm, Sabine swung around with Bonnie, the two of them grinning happily as they recited the lyrics.
Now it's one by one
And a two by two
And a three by three
And a four by four
No one can read 'em like old John
Read 'em let me go
They unlinked their arms and joined in on the rhythmic clapping that had begun, still circling each other.
Now John wrote a letter and he laid it on the table
No one can read'em like old John
Read 'em let me go
Now read 'em John
(Read 'em)
Read 'em John
(Read 'em)
Read 'em John
(Read 'em)
Read 'em let me go
As the last note of the song rang out cheers followed afterwards as well as plenty of applause. Bonnie hooked Sabine's arm with hers and led her away from the dancing, an absolute giddy expression on her face.
"Oh isn't this grand!" she exclaimed, smiling at Sabine.
"It certainly is Bonnie," Sabine answered, letting herself be guided to where the barrels of cider were.
The two young women were handed two tankards of the beverage and decided to rest by them, watching the party-goers as they drank. Sabine briefly listened to the embers of the bonfire pop and crackle to ash, the light ambiance of the lush woods surrounding the community. The sound was quickly drowned out by the band starting up another lively song amidst laughter and the clanking of tankards.
"Where are you're friends?" Bonnie asked curiously, straining her neck to find them in the crowd.
"I'm sure they're around here somewhere," Sabine responded, before sipping from her tankard. "Anne might of hit the sack already, she's been tired all day," she reckoned.
"What about Samuel?" she asked again, wiggling her eyebrows.
Sabine leaned away from her slightly, "Why are you doing that with your eyebrows?" Sabine questioned, scrunching her nose up.
"Come on Corinna!" Bonnie said, playfully exasperated. "Even a blind man could see that Samuel fancies you," she joked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sabine rolled her eyes and shook her head before bringing her cup to her lips, first Josef and now Bonnie.
“Remember when you ordered a dress awhile back?” Bonnie recalled, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Samuel couldn’t keep his eyes off of you,” she remembered, giggling like a school.
“Oh, that was nothing,” she dismissed, waving her hand.
Sabine thought back to that day, when her package arrived she didn’t any intentions on trying it on immediately, but Bonnie had other plans and basically pushed her inside her own home to put the dress on. When Sabine stepped back outside, Bonnie was still there, but speaking with a newcomer. It was Bastien, reins in hand after just returning from a ride. And once he noticed Sabine’s presence, the sentence he was going to say to Bonnie died on his lips.
“Nothing?” Bonnie repeated in disbelief. “He was practically slack jawed,” she reminded, sticking her hand out.
For the rest of that day, it seemed as though every time Bastien spoke or even looked at her he a light dusting of pink would appear on his face or stumble over his words.
Sabine looked at the girl next to her, "Has your parents told you that no one likes a busybody?" she wondered, cocking her head slightly.
"Yes, but I just don't heed their word," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.
“Figures,”
“Hey, all I’m getting at is that it must be nice to have someone fancy you,” Bonnie remarked, lifting her arms up.
“Listen, we are done discussing my love life, alright?”
“Fine,” Bonnie huffed dramatically. "Back to the rest of your friends I guess,” she decided. “Those two other men, God, what are their names?" she asked, continuing her busybodying. "The lanky white man and the light skinned man," she described.
"Nathaniel and Joshua," Sabine said, supplying the names for her. "How much have you had to drink?" she joked, arching a curious brow.
"Not much!" Bonnie replied defensively. "Their names escaped me for a moment that's all," she explained. "Anyways, you never see one without the other, it's like they're joined to each other's side," she observed, her nose crinkling a little.
"Your point Bonnie,"
"I'm just saying that it's unnatural for two men to be that close," Bonnie clarified, shaking her shoulders in a faux shiver. "I wonder if they're inverts? Do you know?" she inquired, staring at Sabine. "Because that is abnormal, not to mention a sin," she stressed, making a disgusted noise.
Faintly, Sabine narrowed her eyes, "So is drinking alcohol and yet here you are," she retorted, plucking the tankard from the young girl's hand.
"Hey!"
"You have committed sinful behavior Bonnie," Sabine proclaimed. "I think you need to take a long, hard look in the mirror and think about what you've done," she lectured, shaking her head in disappointment.
"You're not serious?"
"Very," Sabine answered, smiling at her. "Go on Miss Holier Than Thou, it's time to think of all the sins you committed today," she demanded.
Rolling her eyes, Bonnie walked away from her with her arms folded, probably off to find kids within her age to engage in even more gossip. Just as Sabine placed down their tankards on top of a barrel, the slow beating of drum sounded followed by the slow draw of a fiddle.
"May I have this dance Miss?"
Sabine spun around to find the owner of the voice and stared up at a young man around her age.
"I would love to," she agreed, a small smile gracing her features.
The man gently grabbed Sabine's and led her back to the dance floor just castanets clacked in the air following the rhythm of the fiddle and drum. Her dance partner began to circle around her, trailing a hand along her shoulder before coming to stand in front of her. Taking the man's hand, the two of them began their dance. With each step they took his hand inched further and further down her back until it rested on the small of it.
Suddenly, Sabine felt herself being spun around and brought closer to his body, their bodies molding together with every step they took. She looked over the man's shoulder, spotting Bastien who looked positively livid. Sabine felt a chill run down her spine, slightly uncomfortable under the intensity of his stare.
Josef was next to him whispering god knows what, but whatever it was, Bastien's grip on his flask grew tighter as his other hand formed itself into a tight fist, to the point that his knuckles were white. A look of murderous rage was painted across his face directed at her dance partner. Not paying attention, the man brought her closer to him once more and Sabine accidentally stepped on his foot.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Sabine apologized, her cheeks growing warm.
The man just laughed, "It's alright, the world's not gonna end over a toe being stepped on," he reassured, as he wound his arm around her waist.
Sabine let out a soft laugh, "You're right," she concured, following his actions and resumed their dancing.
The drummer kept the rhythm of the song going as the fiddler drew their bow across the strings of the instrument, the melody evoking tantalizing emotions. As the two of them slowly circled each other, Sabine began to wonder how far she could take Bastien's jealousy. It was clear that Josef was egging him on. She glanced over in the direction of the two men finding that Bastien's eyes already boring into her.
The man brought her close to him once more, tightening his hold on her and lowered his mouth to her ear, murmuring into it. What the man said, Sabine didn't have the faintest idea. She was too busy maintaining her gaze with Bastien, but she let a sly smirk grow on her face, hoping that he would misconstrue the action.
Sabine's dance partner took her hand and spun her around, making her dissolve into a fit of giggles. Suddenly, Sabine felt herself being pulled away from her partner and dragged away.
"Sorry, I think my friend has had too much to drink," a gruff voice stated.
It was Bastien's.
His strides were long and didn't give Sabine anytime to apologize to her dance partner who was probably reasonably upset and slightly bewildered at what just happened. Tripping over her feet a few times, she managed to keep up with Bastien's pace and began yanking her arm from his grip.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" she snapped, still being led away from the crowd. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked again, finally freeing her arm as they came to a stop at their home. "You can't just drag me awa-"
Before Sabine could realize what he was doing, Bastien had pulled her into his arms. Her lips parting in surprise and his mouth covered hers. Sabine was sure that she would die of shock at that moment. Her eyes were wide open and her body was stiff like it was made out of stone, but she didn't think Bastien noticed. He kept kissing her and slowly, very slowly, Sabine found herself relaxing into it.
His kiss was intoxicating.
Sabine knew if she hadn't been holding onto his arms she would melted into a puddle. How long this sweet kiss lasted, she couldn't say. It could have lasted five seconds, for five minutes, or even maybe five hours. Sabine had lost all track of time. But when their lips did detach from each other, Bastien hair was disheveled and her top was slightly askew. In the back of her mind, Sabine began to wonder how her arms ended up looped around his neck. Bastien's cheeks were flushed red, both of them a little breathless as they stared each other intently.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice raspy with the same searing desire which had engulfed her.
A small smirk worked it's way on Sabine's lips, "That, and then some," she answered, still trying to catch her breath.
Letting out a half chuckle, Bastien gripped her waist and guided her backwards until she was pinned against the side of the house. He lowered his head once more, locking their lips in another heated kiss. The taste of bourbon lingering on his tongue. Sabine's fingers tangled themselves in his blond locks, while one of his hands traveled from her waist to grasping the flesh of her backside making her gasp. Moving from her lips, Bastien dropped his head down to her neck and pressed a kiss against it. His mouth trailing up and down her neck was going to be the undoing of her, not to mention his facial hair tickling her which added another level to her already heightened sensitivity.
Bastien rocked his hips against hers and Sabine released a breathy exhale, tugging on his hair.
"Wait, wait, wait," she breathed heavily, immediately he lifted his head from her neck.
"Have I done something wrong?"
"No, well, yes," Sabine answered, staring into his darkened pupils. "As pleasurable as this position is, I think the both of us would enjoy this moment more, behind closed doors," she explained, running a finger down his lips. "I would hate for us to be caught in such a compromising position," she added, in a suggestive tone and before she knew it, Sabine felt herself being lifted from the ground as if she weighed nothing.
With ease Bastien carried her to the front door, "Well, we wouldn't want that would we?" he questioned, a roguish smile on his face as Sabine wrapped her legs around him.
"No we wouldn't,"
Chapter Twelve: A Macabre Rite of Passage
#the old guard#the old guard fanfiction#the old guard fanfic#the old guard fic#sebastien le livre x oc#booker x oc#black female oc#black!oc#black!female character#black fanfiction#black original character#sebastian le livre#booker#andromache the scythian#andy#yusuf al kaysani#joe#nicolo di genova#nicky#quynh#lykon#the old guard imagine#black!reader
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The Valentine’s Day Surprise
After the excitement of the holidays and the inauguration died down slightly, the household had been eagerly looking forward to Valentine’s Day. Any reason to get dressed up and eat chocolate has got to be a good one, after all. Everyone gathered round, ready for the party to start.
Kit: “Well, almost everyone!”
Rebecca: “Where’s Christine? She promised she’d be here!”
Nicki: “Maybe she overslept? Her sleep schedule is kind of weird... I swear I heard voices coming from her room last night.”
Emily: “I’m not so sure. I know she was looking forward to this just as much as the rest of us.”
They decided to show off their outfits and Valentine’s Day goodies while they waited.
Kit: “This isn’t exactly my go-to look, but I look darn cute and I know it so that makes up for any misgivings.”
Emily, charming as always, smiled politely while her eyes wandered slightly to the nearest box of chocolates.
Rebecca’s wearing Samantha’s Talent Show Dress here which admittedly looks slightly dated, but does pair surprisingly nicely with her rabbit pin.
Rebecca: “It also gives me an opportunity to work on my Samantha impression! See—‘oh Nellie, how could I ever manage on without you? I would be utterly lost! Adrift! Unmoored!’ ”
Well that was certainly—honestly I don’t really know what to say.
Rebecca: “Eh. It’s a work in progress, I get it.”
You took the words right out of my mouth.
Emily: “Hey, I thought we handed out everybody’s chocolate already. What’s that on the table?”
Nicki: “To Mei? I don’t think I know a Mei.”
Kit: “And a carnation to go with. The plot thickens.”
Emily: “I think I see Christine now! Is she really wearing sneakers? And—it can’t be! Someone new!”
(As a note, I’m a big fan of the sneakers, but Christine did catch a lot of flack for this particular style choice. Such is the burden of the trailblazer, always ahead of the curve.)
Christine: “Hey everyone! Meet Mei, our newest recruit!”
Mei: “Hi! Oh—and Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Nicki: “Christine! How naughty. You weren’t late, you were just trying to surprise us!”
Christine: “Yeah, and my plan went off without a hitch, too.”
Mei: “I can’t wait to meet everyone, but also, I heard there was supposed to be chocolate, and, well—priorities.”
Christine: “I think we’re going to get along swimmingly, Mei.”
Kit: “Uh-oh. I’m sensing a coalition of mysterious intentions brewing. Anyway, um, yes! We have some presents set aside just for you, as it turns out. Here you go. Also, I’m Kit, intrepid reporter. You’ll most certainly turn up in my newspaper!”
Mei: “Nice to meet you, Kit. And thanks! I think I can make much use of this. Maybe as part of a disguise. Smells alright, too. And did I hear presents, plural?”
Nicki: “Yup! Chocolate, of course! I’m Nicki, by the way. I’m from Denver, and I’ve never met a horse I didn’t like.”
Mei: “A horse girl, huh. I’ll have to keep a close eye on you.”
Nicki: “If that means we get to hang out, that’s okay with me!”
Everyone enjoyed the rest of the afternoon very much, getting to know Mei and munching on petit fours and the like. It was a Valentine’s Day to remember.
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Who did you love the most when you were mortal? (child years, teen years and adult years)
Lets start when I went to the Monastery, I loved the place and I loved the monks. I loved the clean room and food. I loved to learn. I loved to know. I loved to feel loved and to have answers to my questions. I loved when they corrected me even if it was not often. I loved my books and what I wrote. I loved the baker's daughter. Well what I thought was love but in reality was just you know that love one experience as a kid. I loved the wine. I loved my dogs. I loved my horse. I loved to go hunting. I loved to provide. I loved and hated to fix the vineyards, the fences, the barn...but someone had to do it. I loved to spend these few nights with the Italian troupe. I loved that girl.
Child Years
I loved my mother. I had maids to take care of me but I remember my mother singing songs, holding my hand, screaming to the priest at the witches place, screaming to my father and brothers for when they screamed to me or made me cry. I dont remember much from these years but flashes.
Teenage years
Lets start when I went to the Monastery, I loved the place and I loved the monks. I loved the clean room and food. I loved to learn. I loved to know. I loved to feel loved and to have answers to my questions. I loved when they corrected me even if it was not often. I loved my books and what I wrote. I loved the baker's daughter. Well what I thought was love but in reality was just you know that love one experience as a kid. I loved the wine. I loved my dogs. I loved my horse. I loved to go hunting. I loved to provide. I loved and hated to fix the vineyards, the fences, the barn...but someone had to do it. I loved to spend these few nights with the italian troupe. I loved that girl.
Adult Years
Nothing much changed here. I loved to go hunting, to ride my horse until I could not see the castle, spend hours in the forest, fish, lay own on the grass, dream, drink wine, hunt, and the same love and hate to fix things around the castle. I loved my dogs and horse. I loved to be the perfect billygoat in our village. -laughs- I loved and found funny to hear their fathers knocking at the castle doors screaming to me, cursing me..i just found that extremely fun. A escape from my routine which was boring. same everyday.
Then I met Nicki and a lot of things changed. As if you realize above, I did not mention I loved anyone in my family or anyone in particular, I did only said I loved my mother and it was during my child years. You very well know I had no one, I was a loner. Yes I loved my mother all this time but..nothing more. It became to that love but that hate she only read her books all this time and we never learned how to write and read. That there was no attention, love affection on a certain way needed during all this time. Yet, I knew, she loved me on her way. So I cant complain much.
When I met Nicki I spent most of the time with him when I was no hunting. We spent long hours, days and night and afternoons together. Our conversation. That changed my life. I was no loner. I had someone to share my misery and someone that understood what it was to be in that Village and that our fathers hates us so much. It was the beginning of the most happy and bright days of my life even in poor misery sometimes with no food or money, everything was just perfect...on my eyes and soul and I hoped it was perfect for him as well...even i know he had his own demons that I didn't know or saw or rejected to see in him, because I saw light in him, I saw happiness when I was with him, I felt it! but... -sighs- ....I feel sad things were different for him...But thats another story ...yes still hurts...
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sinnerman
Chapter 1
coney island queen
Why Sol didn’t just walk out of the cineplex after Murray asked her to choose what ‘movie’ to star in was beyond her. Not taking part of all this madness was the smart, rational thing to do-- and then she saw tawny eyes across a smoky room, and suddenly she forgot what it meant to be rational.
Nicky Valentino. It was obvious that he was a gangster. There was something in the way he looked across the room that spoke of a man protecting his spot at the top. Then there was his cousin, Ralph della Rosa, who was acting much too cautious to just be ordinary family. And finally, Floyd Capo; he stunk so much of tobacco that Sol’s late grandfather, who himself smoked cigars, would have blanched.
“You gotta get your arms around this lifestyle and embrace it.”
Sol snorted. Only a person with one and a half braincells wouldn’t figure out what lifestyle Floyd was talking about. If Sol was smart, she would run to the nearest church and beg to enter a convent.
But she was still stunned by the roses in her room and the gorgeous breakfast. It was embarrassing to realise just how easily she was won over by opulence. These were things that she didn’t let herself enjoy in the twenty-first century; her bed was way too soft to be comfortable, and the housekeeping staff was suspiciously polite. Sol remembered her old room fondly; a cheap mattress on the floor for a bed, a threadbare blanket to fight the heat of tropical nights, and instant coffee to go with a piece of pan de sal, her favorite bread.
“Miss Diaz? Mr. Valentino is on the line.”
Sol looked up from the cup of coffee she was drinking. The bellhop, standing as though he were a statue, gestured at the old-fashioned telephone. “He wishes to speak to you.”
Nodding, Sol took the telephone receiver from the bellhop.
“Good morning, love. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
Sol didn’t notice the smile on her face when she heard Nicky’s voice. “Don’t worry about it; I’ve been up since five.”
“Oh?” Nicky’s voice was smooth like scotch. “Had a hard time sleeping?”
Sol rolled her eyes. “Force of habit,” she replied. “I rise with the sun.”
“A man would reckon that a broad like you got a lot of beauty sleep.”
She couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah, and I bet you’ll find my eye bags real attractive.” Soledad took another sip of her coffee. “Anyways, thanks so much for the breakfast. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk today.”
“That good, huh?”
“I usually have a piece of bread in the morning, so this was really… a lot. Makes me wonder if someone has ulterior motives for the food and flowers.”
“Maybe someone was trottin’ around like a horse’s ass last night, and wanted to apologize.”
Sol laughed, a deep sound from her belly. “Don’t worry about it, Nicky. I understand.”
“Well. I just wanted you to know when I tell you ‘I’m sorry,’ I really mean it. I know I was out of line leaving you in the cold like that, but it couldn’t be avoided.”
The grin on her face couldn’t be helped, and Sol felt her face heat up.
“Thanks, Nick,” she said. “But really, I know that men like Floyd can be difficult. Besides, Ralph set me up in a really fancy place. Sorta makes me wonder if a certain someone would need to rob a bakery after he sees my bill.”
Nicky laughed at the other end of the line. “Don’t worry about it, kid.”
“Are you sure?” Sol smiled. “I’m pretty great at worrying.”
“And I’m pretty great at making money.” Sol could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “How about the flowers? I was dreaming about you all night, so I woke up at the crack of dawn to pick each one.”
“Nicky,” she said. “I don’t think I have a heart anymore. It just melted.”
He laughed again, and Soledad imagined him-- the brunette hair in a razor cut, tawny eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling in dim lights. The way he tilted his head back to let out a laugh. She wanted to make him laugh again.
“I’m afraid that I’ll have to let you go for now, toots,” Nicky said. The smile in his voice was still there. “Enjoy your breakfast and meet me outside in an hour. Capisce?”
Soledad suddenly realised that she had no clothes, and only a small makeup bag that she had in the purse she was carrying to the cineplex. She sighed.
“Capisce.”
She handed the telephone over to the bellhop, mind still running. The majority of the hotel staff were still in the room, trying to look like they weren’t eavesdropping. Oh, well-- it couldn’t be helped.
“Mr…”
“Jonathan Smith, at your service,” the bellhop said.
“Mr. Smith, I have a few requests,” Soledad said. “First, I was wondering if you could procure me a fresh set of clothing-- in yellow, if available. Please charge it to the room. And if I could have a fresh cup of coffee, that would be wonderful.”
Jonathan Smith, the bellhop, did a small bow. “Of course, Miss Diaz. And how would you like your coffee?”
“Black, Mr. Smith.”
“No sugar or cream, Miss Diaz?”
“Have you broken up with a lover before, Mr. Smith?”
“Yes, madam,” he said in a straight face. Sol nodded in approval at his professionalism.
“I want the coffee to be as black as your ex’s soul.”
Jonathan Smith’s stoic demeanor broke into a grin. “I see, Miss Diaz. Your clothes and coffee will be brought to you right away.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Smith. And do take a croissant. If I try to eat everything, perhaps the bed will become too small for me.”
Even when the bellhop left, Soledad chatted a bit with the remaining staff. By the end of it, two other busboys got their own shares of roses to give their wives, and the maids had a sample of some of the food. As Sol went to the bathroom to take a quick shower, she felt a little bit confident that maybe her telephone call with Nicky wouldn’t be the talk of the Waldorf Astoria’s help that afternoon. Or at the very least, they wouldn’t say that she was a bitch.
***
Ralph didn’t expect Soledad to be chatting his head off about the Rolls Royce’s specs, and he didn’t expect her to clean up so well. She was in a yellow dress with long sleeves and a sailor style collar, curly black hair brushed neatly, framing her long face. The kid wasn’t Ralph’s style in any stretch of the imagination-- she had a face that could have been a man’s-- but he could see how Nicky would fall for her. She was sun touched and radiant. When the kid walked, it was as if she had already conquered the world.
The plan had been to let the kid in, and to drive off to Nicky’s surprise, but the girl had been talking his head off about the car for a minute already.
“Listen, Sol,” Ralph said, cutting off another of her questions. “The Royce is a sweet ride, and the sooner you get in the back seat, the sooner you can see how she drives.”
Jesus, he thought to himself. And I thought I liked cars.
Sol slipped into the backseat, and the sudden luxury of the car’s interiors flooded her senses. The seats were in a plush camel colored leather, with intricate flower embroidery. She ran her hand on the seat, looking up to see a certain someone looking at her with warm eyes.
“There she is,” Nicky Valentino said. “The sweetest of the sweet.”
Soledad did her best not to blush. She failed. “Hello to you, too.”
She settled into her seat, trying not to notice how close she was to Nicky. It was a bit crazy; she had hung around good looking men in bespoke suits before, and never had she felt as woozy as she did now.
“You sure did take your time out there with Ralph, didn’t ya, toots? Made me sorta feel like you were a bit sore about last night and was tryna not see me.”
Soledad rolled her eyes. “Your car is beautiful, Nicky. And frankly, I’d kill to take her for a spin.”
“Oh, yeah? You’re only finding the car beautiful?”
There was a challenge in his eyes, and Soledad couldn’t help her raised brow. Nicky was smirking at her, a blush on his face, and it was obvious that he was fishing for compliments. She wouldn’t give him any.
“Well, Ralph looks better in the daylight.”
The two men broke into laughter, with Soledad joining them after a beat. The mischief in Nicky’s eyes only became more pronounced.
“Hey,” Nicky said. “Just so that things are clear-- I really do feel bad for leavin’ ya on your lonesome last night. So what’d ya say? Would you let this sorry sap do something nice for you?”
“If you’re talking about lettin’ me have a spin, then absolutely,” she laughed. “But it’s still a yes for me with anything else. I’m not mad, Nicky. I’m really not.”
“Thank God,” he replied. “I’d drink to that. Hey, how about that? Care for a drink, sugar? They call these things mimosas.”
Soledad shook her head. “I would, Nicky, but I’m running on four cups of coffee. Liquor is the last thing I need. Besides, isn’t that illegal?”
“It’s illegal to drink. Period.” Nicky winked at her. “But you wouldn’t be here if it was, would you?”
“If it was legal to drink? What are you talking about?”
Nicky’s smile stretched to a Cheshire cat grin, the entirety of his focus on Soledad. If she felt lightheaded before, now Sol felt like she could faint.
“You think that guys like me are a dice roll away from getting bumped off or going to the big house. And I think there’s a part of you that likes that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have decided to be in this movie or whatever you think this is.”
The smile from Soledad’s face faded, and she couldn’t help but reach for Nicky’s hand. His eyes met hers, surprised by her sudden seriousness.
“Nicky, remember what you told me last night, when I gave you my hand?”
“I do,” he said. “You feel like home.”
Soledad nodded, lost in thought and looking at their now entwined fingers. “I’m in this for you, Nicky. I’m not here for the money, the power, or the thrill of it. If I wanted that, I would have stayed back home in the Philippines. But for some reason, I went back here to the past and met an amazing man that I feel I’ve known all my life. If anything, you being a gangster worries me more than it excites me.”
Nicky brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “There ain’t no reason for you to worry ‘bout me, sweet thing. I got ya by my side, and you’re my lucky charm.”
The ride continued on, with Nicky teasing her with his ‘surprise’, and the pair of them almost getting a poor puppy off the street. Soledad almost wanted to get it, before thinking that it might actually belong to someone else. Nicky had been a bit distraught at the thought of leaving the little thing by itself, but they continued on with their banter, with Ralph sometimes chiming in.
“Hey, Nicky,” she said, eyes flickering to his. “I was hoping that you’ll help me get something.”
“Alright,” he replied, without missing a beat. “What is it?”
“A job.”
“A job?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Why would you want that?”
“Well,” Sol said. “I’m practically destitute--”
“No, you’re not.”
“Look, I’ve got no job, no home, and no money to buy my own food. I am destitute.”
Nicky frowned, clearly not liking the idea.
“Hey, Nick. It’s alright. I’ve got a wide skill set. I’ve got a degree in financial management and law-- I mean, it’s Filipino law, and the constitution I know is the 1987 version, but I’ve needed to do more readings anyway.”
“I don’t really think that you need to work, toots. Trust me, I’m more than capable of providing for you.”
Sol laughed, a sound that came deep from her belly. “A hotshot gangster like you. Of course you can.”
Nicky exchanged a look with Ralph, their mood sobering. Sol noticed the pair, snorting at their surprise.
“I ain’t no gangster, toots.”
Soledad shot him a dirty look, only a bit annoyed that he wasn’t coming clean. “I know a lie when I hear it, Nicky.”
He raised an eyebrow at her in response, but the mood got heavier anyway. “Look,” he said, voice dropping a few octaves lower. “I’m from a town with rules that cutthroats invented four hundred years ago in the old country. And I still got friends who think that’s the only way to live. But I ain’t one of them. I never broke the bank by breaking someone’s bones.”
“And Floyd Capo is one of those friends.”
“Yeah,” Nicky sighed. “Ya know, toots, before you showed up, I was a wheeler dealer who made his money in real estate and spent it faster than he could count it. I ain’t no gangster.”
“That was a weak close,” Soledad sighed. “You’re not exactly subtle. Anybody that knows what a mobster is could tell, Nicky.”
“Huh. You wasn’t so prickly last night.”
“I was boozed out, confused and touch starved.”
“And now?
She smiled. “Caffeinated, confused, and touch starved.”
“And why is a pretty lady like you so prickly?”
Sol snorted, looking out the window. “You don’t get to be single for twenty-nine years without a bit of paranoia.”
Nicky was going to say something until he caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyebrows were drawn tight, and her mouth was set in a thin flat line. There was something that was bothering her, and he wanted to know what it was. He squeezed her hand.
“Hey,” Nicky said as she looked up at him. “You got me, kid. Before you waltzed into that speakeasy, I was a mobster with the world at my feet. And now I’m something completely different, ‘cos of you.”
“And what are you now?”
Nicky smiled at her and it put all the stars in the world to shame. “Now, I’m a romantic.”
***
When they got to Coney Island, Soledad’s face lit up like the Hollywood sign. Nicky smiled down at her; the kid was so small she didn’t reach his shoulders. He could pick her up easy, like a child.
“Omigod, Nicky,” she squealed. “We have to ride everything.”
“I’m not quite sure I can handle the carousel, toots.”
Sol snorted. “‘Cos those horses are gonna take a bite off your ass.”
“Haha,” Nicky said, offering his arm. “You’re a riot, ya know that?”
She slipped her hand into his instead, and when he looked down at her in surprise, he caught her blushing. Nicky could feel his own ears heat up.
“I know,” Sol said. “I know.”
They spent the rest of the day going to the rides. Nicky liked the way Sol’s eyebrows raised when she noticed him bribing the ticketmasters. He had asked her about it, and with a shrug she replied that he grandfather would bribe his way out of speeding tickets all the time. Nicky had laughed, noticing the way Soledad would preen at the sound. By the looks of it, she enjoyed making him laugh. The thought made Nicky want to go to the nearest stranger and tell them that he was crazy for his little lady.
They went and rode the Ferris Wheel, with Sol still tucked under his arm. Her short black hair tickled, and he couldn’t help but smile at the feel of it.
Nicky thought that telling Sol about his sister would be a hard thing to do, but the doll was patient and understanding, giving him none of her pity and all of her empathy. She was quiet while he told her how they’d slip over to the rides, and how his sister spent a night in jail.
“My pops cleaned my clock fierce that night,” Nicky said. From their height in the Ferris Wheel, he could see the whole of Coney Island. “But that wasn’t what got me. It was that I abandoned my sister when she needed me the most.”
Nicky did his best to crack a smile. “But to save you from seeing a grown man get all misty eyes, I’m gonna save that story for another day.”
He threw his arms around Sol’s shoulder as the gondola swayed. She leaned into him.
“You know,” she said, “I don’t have any siblings. Sort of wish I do, but I had this little cousin, Micky, who was three years younger than I was, and at the time we lived close to each other. One day I saw him at an empty lot crying his eyes out, and he told me that his friends bullied him, telling him that he was a nobody and couldn’t do anything right. They told him that his family had no money, which was stupid because we’re were old money rich.”
Sol was looking at him, a fond smile on her face. “I took a stick and went to the kid’s house. Tampered with their water line. The next day, their house flooded. Man, my grandfather was so angry at me, I think I spent a good ten minutes under the belt. My tito was mad at me too. He never let me see Micky again.”
Nicky drew her closer to him. “I guess we’re really written in the stars, toots.”
She laughed, high in his embrace. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess so.”
The rest of the day was filled with banter. Nicky kept her under his arm, and she kept him laughing. They were strolling on the boardwalk, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her hair curled under her ears. She was blushing and fumbling over her explanation of how the bracelet was lost, but Nicky couldn’t care less. He used to think that the bracelet was important, but seeing her in the daylight and in his arms was worth fifty of those bracelets.
“Hey,” Nicky said. “I noticed that you ain’t wearing those rags you had on last night.”
Soledad blushed. “Oh, uh. Well, I figured that a hotel as swanky as the Waldorf had some clothes lying around.”
“And let me guess,” Nicky said in a deadpan. “I’m paying for it.”
She answered with a shrug. “What can I say? I don’t have a job, so you’ll have to be my keeper.”
“Then I guess you won’t be prickly when I tell you that ya don’t have to ask a hotel for new clothes no more.”
“Nicky,” she said, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me you bought me clothes.”
Nicky leaned against the railing in a knowingly devious pose, winking at her as the noon time sun made his tawny eyes look like molten gold.
“Let’s just say that your wardrobe is gonna be full of designer dresses, stilettos from France, diamonds, minks--”
Sol dropped her head on his solar plexus hard enough for it to almost hurt. On reflex, he put his arms around her. She hugged him back.
“Why are you spoiling me so much,” she mumbled into his shirt. “I just met you last night.”
“You don’t have to know someone to know that you want them.”
There was a true heat in his voice and gaze. Soledad swallowed hard as he pulled her close. They were just a few inches away from each other, and she could see the small mole under his left eyes and his beet red ears.
“‘Cause I know what I want.”
Soledad thought that they were going to kiss, until Ralph came up to them, coughing into his hand awkwardly.
“Sorry to break you two lovebirds apart,” he said. “But there’s some coppers by the docks.”
“There’s always going to be some flatfoots in this town,” was Nick’s answer. He sighed in frustration. Soledad took a few steps away from him to catch her own breath.
“They’re looking for you, Nick.”
In a few quick heartbeats, Nicky spilled out orders to Ralph, and the two of them were on the run. They were able to get past a few officers, but a big man in the blue uniform saw them and gave chase.
“Meet me at the alley, toots,” Nicky said, before sprinting away from the police officer. Soledad looked at the man grimly. She could outrun him, or she could buy Nicky some time.
“Hello, officer,” she said, as the burly man took a pair of handcuffs out.
“You’re under arrest.” His voice was gruff, and his moustache was severe. Soledad almost wanted to laugh; he looked like a caricature of a policeman.
“I want my rights read to me,” Sol replied. “Mainly because I have no idea what you’re arresting me for.”
“Nobody is reading anyone’s rights,” he said, handcuffing her. “Besides, I saw you with Valentino on the dock.”
“Then it’s your word against mine, Detective.”
The man huffed. “I ain’t no detective. Just an honest officer doin’ his job, and you’re a no one, kid.”
“Then,” Sol said, “I’m really sorry that I have to do this.”
There were three things that she did in quick succession. First, she spun around and kicked him square in the jaw. He fumbled back, surprised. Then she kicked him again in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Finally, she kicked the back of his knees, sending him to the ground in a loud thud. The policeman groaned in pain, and when he tried to get up, she kicked him in the stomach again.
“I’m a twenty-nine year old captain of the Philippine Commonwealth’s army, not some kid,” Sol said, foot on his chest. “And between you and me, there’s no such thing as an honest officer these days.”
She could see a familiar black beauty roll into the street-- it was Nicky’s Rolls Royce. Sol took her foot off the officer’s chest.
“Just for the record,” she said. “I’m retired. And we both know what retired army captains are asked to do by their governments.”
The officer’s eyes widened, and Sol resisted the urge to smirk. She was a professional, after all.
“I’m not on the wrong side of the law.” She stepped away from the police officer. “Anyway, if you want to get promoted, remember this: have as many good friends in high places. Stray dogs turn into hungry wolves very quickly.”
The officer groaned, trying to sit up. “Is that a threat, or a warning?”
“It’s advice,” she replied. Sol bit her lip as she looked at the officer’s broken nose. “I’m really sorry that I had to hit you,” she said, voice soft, “but circumstances called for it, Officer…”
“Marquez,” he replied. Soledad nodded.
“If I ever see you again, I hope you won’t try to handcuff me,” she said.
The older man grunted. “Try not to hang around shady characters, Captain, and then we’ll see.”
She gave a quick nod before jogging to the Rolls Royce. Ralphie opened the door for her, and Nicky gave her a look that turned her knees to jell-o. But this was a look that was heated for all the wrong reasons.
“So,” he said conversationally. “What does the government ask retired army captains to do?”
#fictif#tatw#nicky valentino#fanfiction#nicky valentino x oc#nicky valentino/oc#two against the world#pls go easy on me this is my first fic uwu
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papillionlisse 2/? [gigi x nicky / jan x jackie] - pinkgrapefruit
[ chapter two ]
Gigi wakes up from a fitful sleep (mostly caused by the cat laying across her chest) to the sight of Nicky in warrior two - her eyes blissfully closed as her taut stomach twists, muscular thighs tense as she pushes herself into downward-facing dog. She spots Gigi’s staring as she looks up and pokes her tongue out in jest - the brunette giggling slightly too loud for the early hour as Crystal throws a stuffed honey badger across the room before burying her face back into her pillow.
[harry potter hogwarts/beauxbaton au]
A/N - hey! we’re back in the easiest to write multi-chap I’ve ever done! i don’t even care if you guys like it anymore because I’m so in love with these gals. (i still need the validation that you all like it though <3) thanks to frey for being a magnificent beta and let’s get down to it!
*
They learn remarkably quickly that Nicky is unbearably peppy on a morning - the blonde girl rolling out of bed at 6 a.m. while Jan is still drooling on Jackie’s shoulder to practice some light morning yoga in only a pair of tight gym shorts and a sports bra. Her loosely curled hair is tied into a loose ponytail, and sweat forms in droplets in the dip of her spine.
Gigi wakes up from a fitful sleep (mostly caused by the cat laying across her chest) to the sight of Nicky in warrior two - her eyes blissfully closed as her taut stomach twists, muscular thighs tense as she pushes herself into downward-facing dog. She spots Gigi’s staring as she looks up and pokes her tongue out in jest - the brunette giggling slightly too loud for the early hour as Crystal throws a stuffed honey badger across the room before burying her face back into her pillow.
Nicky winks and Gigi smiles back, sitting up as she gives up on the idea of going back to sleep. She pulls Quaffle onto her lap with a sigh, pushing her fingers into his fur until he unfurls happily, stretching out between her legs.
“Morning,” she whispers, but it’s hoarse with sleep and it makes Nicky chuckle as she rolls into a handstand.
“Bonjour, mon chou,” she responds with a smile - her voice tense as she lowers back down. She stands up finally, grabbing her wand off the end of her bed to roll up the yoga mat and fire it back under the bed - her morning laxity getting the better of her as she lazily sends Gigi’s glasses onto her face with a snap of the wrist. Checking the time, Gigi realises it’s quarter to seven and motions for Nicky to flick the curtains off the thin windows that stand in between each bed.
She watches, as she does every morning, as Jan recoils from the sunlight, hiding her head in the crook of Jackie’s neck with a moaning noise causing the sleepy dorm to erupt into quiet laughter. Crystal makes a nondescript noise as she pats her hand vaguely on her bedside table, looking for her glasses, which she finally finds once she lifts her head and realises Nicky is holding them for her. She flops onto her back with a snort.
“Monday, right?” Asks Crystal, as she fumbles her way into the bathroom - coming out with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth a few seconds later. She takes one for the team and hits Jan’s foot with a cushion, forcing the girl to actually look up as Jackie busies herself with the last few pages of her book on full moon astronomy to avoid her wrath. Nicky braids a silk scarf into Gigi’s hair as the two watch Jan walk like a zombie into the bathroom, only coming out twenty minutes later having showered and put on some makeup.
“Is she always like this?” Nicky asks, gesturing very generally towards the girl who’s resumed her position tucked against the now clothed Jackie until they all decide to go to breakfast.
“In the morning? Yes.” Gigi responds bluntly. “She’s an absolute zombie before nine unless there are waffles for breakfast, but it’s not a Thursday, so, unfortunately, we’re stuck with this until Jackie can force a cup of tea down her, and then she’ll perk up.”
Crystal joins the two of them and sits on Gigi’s bed. “Almost eight,” she notes, which sparks the group into motion. Nicky watches in amusement as they come together like a well-oiled machine - all ready to go and standing by the door in seconds, each in their robes and choice of shoe - bags slung over their shoulders and wands holstered. She’s pulled out of her staring when Gigi snaps her fingers at her.
“C’mon, Nicks,” she says quickly and Nicky slips her feet into her patent black brogues - sliding the unfamiliar black robes over her white oxford shirt. The robes hold the symbol of Papillionlisse - a purple butterfly alighting a leaf - and they feel homely even though they’re brand new. She slings her powder blue Beauxbaton tote over her shoulder and runs to the door so they can all exit together, making sure to remember the code of knocking that Gigi shows her on the barrel outside the common room door.
She finds she rather likes the look of Hogwarts in the morning - the sun shining through old stained glass in a way that lights up the whole main hall with twinkling lights. The enchanted ceiling is sunny today, and even Jan smiles at the sight of it. Gigi calls her a cliché as she picks two or three flavoured croissants from the platter in front of them and she tries to defend herself with crumbs spraying out of her mouth, giving in as Crystal attempts to shoot her a disapproving look ending in them all falling into warm laughter.
She looks around, trying to spot the other Beauxbaton students, camouflaged from view in their billowy black robes. She identifies a couple by their blue bags and pristine blonde hair and finds she hasn’t really missed them yet - she wonders idly if she will, as she watches Jan enthusiastically explain something about Kneazles to Jackie who softens under her girlfriend’s eyes.
*
They’re all making their way down to the dungeons when a burly looking guy bodychecks Crystal - her shoulder jerking back in a way that forces her off kilter and she ends up on the floor. The large brunette seethes ‘Mudblood’ through his teeth and Nicky watches in horror as Crystal’s eyes well up.
“Le con,” she lets out - the words scathing as they fall from her lips. He looks at her - eyes narrowing before he leans forward. She reacts on impulse, a firm fist to the lower jaw and he staggers back in shock, barely calling her a bitch before running on up the stairs.
Crystal is back upright now - looking shocked and slightly sick, but held upright by Jackie and Gigi, who look like they’re trying to lower their own anger levels by breathing very poorly and whispering kind thoughts to Crystal.
“Damn, Nicky,” Jan exclaims with a bemused smirk.
Nicky takes a deep breath, pushing the air out through her nose as she shrugs. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” she quips - “Now, Crys, how about we prove his, uh, préjudice wrong.” She links arms with the brunette, leaving the rest of them to wander behind.
“You okay?” She asks quietly, chin resting on the girls shoulder for a second.
“Dicks will be dicks,” Crystal replies, voice more solid than it had been. “I’ll be fine. They’re a rarity nowadays.”
“Good,” Nicky says forcefully. “Dicks will be dicks.”
*
It’s a few weeks later - the late spring tumbling into early summer and the sky is a glorious blue, not a cloud in sight - they spend the afternoon lounging on the grass on the edge of the Black Lake.
“I saw the Giant Squid once,” Crystal tells them all as she shields her face from the Sun by waving one hand in its vague direction.
“You did not.” Gigi scoffs from her position, laying on her front, body propped up on her elbows. Nicky giggles, in the same position as Gigi, but with her head resting on her folded arms - face illuminated by the sun that filters through the branches of the nearby elm tree.
“We only have horses that drink whisky,” she whines - making the group laugh together.
“I’ve heard of those,” Jackie pipes up from where her head is on Jan’s lap - the blonde braiding wildflowers into her hair.
“Of course you have,” Nicky jokes and the brunette holds up her middle finger much to the French girl’s amusement. “Have they always been like this?” She asks Gigi quietly, as the group goes back to their own separate conversations for a moment.
Gigi hums in contemplation, brushing a strand of hair off Nicky’s face before she answers - the blonde’s striking blue eyes catching her off guard in a way that shouldn’t shock her anymore.
“Not always this disgustingly cute, no, but they’ve been a thing since third year. We’ve shared a dorm since first year, but they sorted their shit out in the summer of third, thank god. You know what we went through?” Gigi asks sardonically, and Nicky shakes her head in a motion for the girl to continue, letting out a giggle at the matter of fact way Gigi tells this clearly nostalgic story. “God, they were painful for a while. Jackie was our go-to homework help and then she got all sad about Jan, and wouldn’t help any of us, so guess who wasn’t doing great in divination that year.”
“It’s literally making shit up,” calls Jan from where she’s sat - choosing to ignore everything else being said. “And I’m the one who likes it.” She pats her divination textbook affectionately as Gigi goes back to explaining.
“But they got together in Hogsmeade and it was all cute, and now they’re this.” Nicky coos like you would at a small dog, before returning her attention to the brunette.
“Will you take me to Hogsmeade?” She asks, eyelashes fluttering and Gigi has to stop herself from swooning.
“Of course, mon Cherie,” she responds in an awful French accent that makes Nicky laugh so hard she rolls onto her back, letting the sun hit her face in a way sure to pepper her nose with even more freckles. “You didn’t have to go all veela on me,” Gigi whispers, and Nicky just winks.
“HONEYDUKES!” Crystal butts in from where she’s studying for charms - lazily trying to perfect the wand movement for one of her nonverbal spells. A spark shoots up from the lake causing Jackie to raise an eyebrow from where she’s laying, absorbing the sun, and Crystal just cackles in response, dropping her wand in defeat.
“Yes, Crys, we can go to Honeydukes,” Gigi appeases. “Any other questions that don’t involve me being a lonely lesbian?” She asks Nicky, and the blonde blushes at the phrasing. She twirls an already perfect blonde ringlet around her finger before looking up to Jackie.
“What exactly do you want to do, Jaqueline?” She asks - the nickname a joke she’s chosen to stick with out of pure enjoyment of the look on Jackie’s face.
Jackie props herself up on her elbows - Jan pouting as a few flowers flutter out of her hair and onto the grass.
“I want to get a mastery in astronomy and arithmancy, and then probably become an arithmancer or a potions astronomer - maybe a code breaker. Something like that,” she muses as she relaxes back down onto Jan’s lap. Nicky watches on, impressed.
“Damn, that’s cool.”
“Well, I’m pureblood, so I either do something insane or I live off my family’s fortune, and the only way I can do something insane is if I work hard as hell for it.” They all hear Jan mutter something about ‘fucking aristocracy’, but they choose to leave her be as she, perhaps slightly more angrily, threads daisies together to make a crown.
“Jan?” Nicky asks, falling back so she can fully sunbathe, her hair forming a halo on the greenery.
“Oh, easy,” Jan claims with excitement - any anger at her girlfriend’s family having passed as quickly as it arrived. “Magical creature healer.” She says it brightly and with enough whimsy that it almost masks the danger they all know the job poses.
“I can imagine you doing that,” Crystal claims, airily. “You’re making my hopes of a normal healer sound boring though.”
Jan giggles. “You can heal me!” She effuses with more excitement than the topic warrants.
Nicky looks to Gigi with a question in her eyes, and Gigi flops down next to her before she answers - watching the sliver of a white cloud pass through the cerulean of the sky.
“McGonagall’s mentioned taking me on as an apprentice,” she admits quietly. “I mean I’d love to. I’d love it.”
“Gigi, that’s amazing,” Nicky says, and Gigi feels how much she means it like an aura washing over her. She feels the love as it trails through every vein in her body, and she assumes it’s a veela thing, because it feels like this unbreakable connection even if it only lasts a second.
“Thank you, Nicky.”
*
They end up in the library, late at night a few days later. It’s a Saturday, and she and Nicky are pouring over textbooks - barely talking except to pass notes full of badly drawn wand diagrams and the occasional quip.
Gigi has spent the last five minutes watching as Nicky (totally innocently) sucks on a sugar quill and she thinks she might explode, so she practices what she’s trying to write and wordlessly charms her notes page into a paper butterfly, knocking the quill out of Nicky’s mouth, so she can sit comfortably for a minute or two.
“Dieu, you’re so distracting,” Nicky moans as she looks up to Gigi’s smirking face.
“Only for you, mon Cherie,” she schmoozes, eyes half-lidded as she lets her teeth trail her bottom lip.
“Mon chѐri,” Nicky corrects, although her smile is softer, less playful now. “D’amour.” Her tongue darts out to whet her lips. She stands up from where she’s been sitting cosy in a large wooden chair and slides onto the table, so she’s sat right in front of Gigi. The brunette almost short circuits at the way Nicky towers over her like this, but she rolls her shoulders and tries to pretend to be a Veela - just for the confidence.
She pulls her onto her lap, thanking the smoothness of the table and the lack of friction posed by Nicky’s leggings as the blonde lands happily on her thighs.
“Embrasse Moi,” she asks, breathless from the suspense, eyes barely open. “S'il te plait.”
If she looked, she’d see the way Nicky’s ears turn pink when she’s flustered, her pupils the size of saucers, lips full.
“Yes.”
Gigi’s pretty sure she’d be happy to let Nicky do anything to her. Especially in a library.
#rpdr fanfiction#pinkgrapefruit#papillionlisse#gigi x nicky#jankie#gigi goode#nicky doll#jan sport#jackie cox#crystal methyd#s12#harry potter au#fluff#almost smut#cute lesbians being cute#no snarky tags bc honestly I just love writing this fic
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