#which has very much Been Done but like there’s Pale fuckery going on I feel like it’s kind of asking for it
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pale latitude compressor gives kim amnesia au is 4000 words and counting! finished writing chapter 1 but I am not posting to ao3 until the entire work is done. doing the posting thing makes my brain think the task is done and then I never finish actually writing the fic (plus I would like to be able to update it consistently and that Will Not Happen if I post as I go).
#compression fracture#writing process#I’m not posting it yet for the reasons above but I also have an insatiable need fo bother everyone around me about this sucker#and what is tumblr for if not posting updates for creative projects no one cares about#wild to think it’s 4k already- I’ve written entire stories that were shorter than that#but writing in game style takes up a lot of words I guess#this is also the one I’m doing actual dice rolls for#except for two in the next chapter where the story I’m trying to tell would change fundamentally for the worse if Kim failed them#which yeah he also has skills in this one#which has very much Been Done but like there’s Pale fuckery going on I feel like it’s kind of asking for it#and writing in game style is fun#more so when you only have 16 voices to make talk and not 24 because Jesus Christ Harry
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Chapter 11 of Warrior’s Blues: What Would I Do Without You?
Folks, I am so excited. I finally get to present to you the next chapter of Warrior’s Blues! This chapter (and the following two) have been a labor of love. @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog, editor and co-creator of this fic, thank you for all your hard work and insight!! Ok folks, here it is:
Chapter 11: What Would I Do Without You?
Yennefer's visit throws Jaskier for a hard loop. His best friend helps him sort it out. Best Friend Rating of the Geralt Incident? 10/10 top notch Jaskier fuckery. She loves her disaster queer.
CW for drinking, smoking, implied death of an original character, grieving
Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged!) for future updates of this story!
@astouract @smolpoe @yes-im-the-violin-girl @ladyknight-keladry
On the day of Yennefer’s visit, Jaskier arrives at work on a bicycle. He’s late and on a bicycle for the same reason, which is to say, he is drunk and cannot drive his car. He is drunk because he’d been so full of mixed emotions after Yennefer left that he’d sat down to eat the rest of the fruit and whipped cream. Somewhere in there, it had seemed like a brilliant idea to pour half a bottle of bourbon after it.
It was not. Luckily for him, the person working the bar tonight is Julia.
She is a stocky woman in her mid-forties. She has tawny skin and skeptical hazel eyes, and there’s a kind twist to her lips that she often hides. She has a tuft of cropped blue hair and wears a denim vest with a white t-shirt. Even though she is exasperated when he staggers through the door, she feeds him a sandwich and coffee while she fills him in on the meeting he missed. From there, she lets the crew in for the night.
Jaskier feels like the whole world is an itchy sweater, even after the sandwich and coffee. It’s like his brain is on fire, and he can’t quite settle into the usual friendly chatter that his job requires. He passes an irritable and lonely night out by the door. By the time it’s time to clock out most of the staff is eager to clear out from underfoot; Jaskier is a great boss, but when his nearly infinite good humor runs out he can be a real asshole.
The only one who doesn’t give a fuck is Julia. She knew from the second she saw him wheeling in the door that it was going to be a late night, so she lets the rest of the staff out before pouring herself a big glass of gin. Then she settles her elbows against the bar, watching Jaskier mop the dancefloor. He is flailing wildly with the mop, clearing the floor with brutal inefficiency. Internally she begins to count down the time until he knocks the bucket over. Sure enough, a moment later he does just that. She nods in satisfaction, pleased that her timing is still on point.
Jaskier throws his head back and lets out a shout of pure frustration as his poorly-contained feelings boil over at last. Julia smirks and grabs a bunch of towels, then ambles over to him and starts tossing them on the floor to soak up the mess.
As she does so she says nothing, but the look she gives him makes him feel transparent. Jaskier avoids her eyes as he tosses some towels down onto the puddle.
Julia gives a little harrumph, unimpressed, bending to help him clear the towels away. They right the bucket and clean the floor in silence. When they’re done, she turns to him and gives him a long look.
“So… What’s eating you?”
Jaskier grumbles and straightens. “Nothing.” He hauls the bucket away, fills it with water, and returns. Without making eye contact he begins to mop again.
Julia hums, crossing her arms. “Yeah, and nothing made you stink like bourbon, too. Cough it up.” She leans against a nearby wall, giving him a skeptical look. He looks at her from under the fringe of hair that has fallen over his face. Something about the wide-eyed, guilty glances that he keeps shooting her makes him look sixteen again. She smirks. “I think you wanna tell me but you’re embarrassed, so how about I start making guesses?”
Going pale, Jaskier groans. “Why are you so hell-bent on pushing my buttons?” The last thing he wants is Julia making guesses about what is bothering him. She has a terrible habit of being accurate and she has a memory like an elephant.
“Because you’re not a dumbass kid anymore and you haven’t shown up drunk in years. You missed an important meeting! What the fuck, Jaskier? Don’t make me call you Julian, I swear to fucking god I’ll break out your birth name.”
“Julia…!” Jaskier protested. “I d-”
“Julian Alfred P-”
“Fine! Stop! Oh my god, you are merciless!” Jaskier cries, but secretly he’s glad that she cares enough to needle him. He stops and holds the mop for a moment, blowing his hair out of his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. Then he starts pushing it across the floor again. “I’m sure you heard about the man who rescued Pride this year.”
“Heh, I feel like I’ve met him. Yarpen won’t shut up. Heard from him recently?” She narrows her eyes at him, sure that she’s about to hear some sort of horny idiot story.
Jaskier blushes hotly, confirming Julia’s suspicions. “Well, funny thing about that.”
“What did you do now?” Julia asks, smirking. She retreats to the bar and picks up her tumbler of gin, then lights a cigarette.
“We-e-elll…” Jaskier prevaricates.
Julia gives him a long look, and he folds.
“Um, so I might have brought him back to my house after Pride.”
Julia barks a short laugh. “Color me not surprised. What’s the problem? Is he why you were wearing that birdy when you came in?”.
Jaskier’s flush deepens. “I meant to take that off before his wife showed up. After that my day got all sort of… muddled.”
“You mean you got chewed out and then got drunk, right?”
“No! You know what, Julia? She yelled at me when I met her in the hospital, but when she came to my house she was…” He pauses, seeing the bewildered look on Julia’s face. “All right, let me back up and explain. He broke his hand, and I had to take him to the hospital. Two weeks later we go for his followup appointment and his wife is there waiting for him. Tracked him down all the way from fucking England! Got the third degree from her there, but the wildest part is, she showed up at my house the next day to talk. About me dating him.”
Julia laughs again, harder and longer. “What the fuck, Jaskier?”
Despite himself, Jaskier breaks into a rueful grin.“Right? Seriously though Julia. If I talk to you about this it stays strictly between you and me, got it? All of it. He’s in the closet and no one else here needs to know any of this.”
“You got it. No gossip. Your secrets are my secrets.” Julia smiles crookedly, sipping at the last of her gin. She’s been keeping Jaskier’s shit to herself since he was a teen. At first, it was out of a desire to not get involved, but by now she genuinely likes the dingbat. He’s dumb but sweet, and he’s been good to her. “So what’s the deal, kiddo?”
“So what it all boiled down to is that she’s not mad at me for sleeping with him… she’s mad I slept with him so fast. Turns out she’s okay with me seeing him again.”
Julia puts her glass down on the bartop, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Okay, that is a new one on me, I gotta admit. What’s the story there? She into watching or something?”
A surprised laugh escapes Jaskier. “No, thank fucking god, I don’t think I’d survive. This woman… oh Julia, you should have seen her. She’s like, five foot four inches of lightning in a bottle. A total force of nature. I think she could snap me like a twig.” A wry twinkle comes into his eye as Julia’s eyebrow goes up.
Smirking, Julia taps some ash off of her cigarette. “Sounds like a hell of a woman.”
Jaskier snorts, cutting her an amused look. “She is, but I don’t think you’d get very far with her. She’s asexual.”
“Oh? The plot thickens.” Julia grins wolfishly, leaning her chin on her hand. Jaskier had a way of getting up to his neck in crazy situations, and it had become something of a spectator sport for her over the years.
Flushing with embarrassment, a crooked grin flickers across Jaskier’s face. “Yeah, well.” He turns his glass in a full circle. “So it turns out, they uh… have a kid together. And I want you to understand how terrifying this woman was because there was no way in hell I was going to ask for more details. But. What she told me was this. They got married because of their daughter, but Geralt… her husband, the man I was sleeping with… He’s gay.”
“Oh man, you really have a way of finding them, don't you?" This is top-notch Jaskier fuckery, it really is. She’s glad she’d stayed to get the story out of him, even though she knew it meant that she’d be dragged into his shit sooner rather than later.
“I really do,” Jaskier agrees with a little groan.
“What’s her name?”
“Yennefer.”
“Hm. Nice names. Yennefer and Geralt. So she got mad at you for sleeping with Geralt so fast, and then what?”
“And then, Julia! She told me that she’d always hoped that he’d find someone special. She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘maybe someone like you’ and I just lost my mind. Just- Pow!” He makes an exploding gesture out from his head with his hands, then shakes his head and returns to mopping.
“Wow. That was not the reaction I was expecting.”
“Yeah. Yeah! No kidding! Apparently, he’s always been free to choose his lovers. He’s never wanted to bring one home before, though.”
Julia lets out a low whistle, her eyebrows going up. “So he likes you, likes you. And his wife is… okay with this?”
“I don’t think she likes me very much, Julia, but she gave me the phone number to their hotel room. Says I should have a real talk with him before I think about dating him.” He stalks past her into the kitchen to dump out the dirty mop water.
“Just like that?” Julia laughs, leaning in the doorway.
“Threatened to bury my dead body if I didn’t treat him right, in those exact words,” Jaskier says over his shoulder.
Julia leans against the doorframe, shaking with mirth. “Oh my fucking god, Jaskier.”
“I know!” Jaskier cries, flinging his hands up. “This is absurd, Julia! And you know what’s even more ridiculous? I really think I could fall for him, I really do. He’s just so…” He sighs, tossing the mop and bucket in their corner and washing his hands.
“Yeah, Yarpen wouldn’t shut up about him. Six feet plus, white hair, amber eyes, stacked? Sounds very striking.” Julia drawls, eyebrows arching.
“No, Julia- Well, I mean, yes, but…” He walks back out to the bar, flopping onto one of the tall stools.
“But what?” She smirks, returning to the bar and tapping out her ash.
“Well, I was gonna say beautiful, but I didn’t mean it like that.” Jaskier puffs, drumming his hands on the bar top, trying to find a way to put it. “Like… ohh, I sound like a fool, but he feels like a warm hearth. I just wanna curl up next to him with a book and a cup of tea and fall asleep because I feel so good around him. Safe. And don’t you go telling me he’s a stranger-” Jaskier breaks off as Julia rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to speak. “I know that! I know, and that’s what makes it so weird, Julia. But like, good weird.”
Julia hums thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side. Jaskier has been getting more self-aware as he ages, and for once, she’s inclined to believe that he remembers this guy’s a stranger. “Have you called your therapist yet?”
“For once in my life, yes. I called her before I came in. Hopefully, she’ll have gotten back to me by the time I get home.”
“Good for you. So this is why you came in here drunk off your ass this morning? This whole mess?” She pours him a shot glass of rum and passes it to him.
He takes it with a nod of thanks. “Yeah… I guess I got a little freaked out after his wife grilled me this morning, didn’t cope with it well.” Taking a sip, he frowns. “Julia, I’m in over my head. I don’t really know what to do here. He’s never had a boyfriend before.”
Letting out a low whistle between her teeth, Julia stubs out her cigarette. “Ain’t he about my age?”
“Yeah… He’s… I guess he spent his whole adult life in the military and never let himself have one. That’s what his wife said.” Jaskier worries at his lip, blue eyes wide as he shoots a glance at Julia. His glass scrapes on the bar top.
Annoyed by the sound, Julia tosses him a coaster. Then she hums thoughtfully, swirling the dregs of gin in her glass. “That’s a long time to be lonely.”
Puffing out a long, slow breath, Jaskier nods. He draws the coaster over and sticks it under his drink with a guilty look. “Yeah.” Slumping to the bar top, he puts his chin on his hands. “She said… if I cheated on him it would crush him. She said… ‘Please don’t make things worse by being irresponsible with his very fragile heart.’” Putting his face into his arms, Jaskier gives a little groan.
Julia sucks in a breath, watching Jaskier crumple in front of her. He’d at least grasped the concept of fidelity by now, but until recently his romances had never been particularly stable. Her heart goes out to him. She finds herself walking around to the other side of the bar to stand awkwardly by his side, her stocky frame only coming up to his shoulder where he sits on the stool. She awkwardly pats said shoulder, then gives it a squeeze. “That’s gotta feel pretty big to you. How are you doin’ with it?”
“I’m feeling massively intimidated, Julia. He’s gorgeous and I really want to date him, but I’m really afraid I’m going to be bad for him. I don’t exactly have the most amazing track record.”
Julia hums, sucking her teeth thoughtfully. She rubs a gentle circle between Jaskier’s shoulderblades, an unusually affectionate gesture for her. “Kiddo, you know I wouldn’t say this normally, but you’ve put a damn ton of work into your personal relationships. I trust the man you’ve grown into, and I think you should try trusting yourself for once. See how it works out for you. It’s been a long time since you let anyone in.”
Jaskier sighs, leaning into the touch. “I know. I worked so hard, and Rue didn’t even get to see much of my life after the dust settled. I hope she’s proud of me.”
A smile lights Julia’s face, but as she speaks a note of grief creeps into her voice. Her partner Rue had passed two years ago, but the pain was still fresh and hot. Rue had been more than a friend to Jaskier, she’d been his absolute favorite person. He missed her almost as dearly as Julia herself did.
“She’d be proud of you all ‘round, kiddo. You’ve really shaped up. Hell, you stepped up when I needed you.” She gives Jaskier a little shake. “You might be a dumbass, but it matters that you try to get things right. It matters more that you do your best now to fix it when you don’t. That’s all anyone can do.” Julia’s hand moves back to his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re a good man, and I think she’d tell you that, too.”
Jaskier nods, swallowing hard. As Julia’s hand closes on him he realizes all of a sudden how much he misses Rue. His heart contracts with terrible grief. “Oh!” He gasps, surprised by the abruptness of the pain. Reaching back to squeeze Julia’s hand, he can feel his throat tightening. “I feel really lost right now. She’d know what to do.”
A crack appears in Julia’s heart. She nods and steps closer to Jaskier, reaching around his hip and pulling him close. Jaskier leans into her and she grips him tightly with her strong arm. Her cheek presses against him and she squeezes her eyes shut, nodding. “Me too. I miss her like hell.” As she grips Jaskier, silent tears dampen his cheeks. Before long, Julia’s eyes begin to well over too.
Rue had been the center of both of their lives. Julia had been in love with her since they met one hot summer on Coney Island as teenagers. They had kissed in the rain under one of the piers, and that had been it for her. By the time they’d moved in together as adults, Julia would have gone down on one knee and married her in a heartbeat.
Every summer they took a long vacation on Fire Island, where Julia would pick up part time work as a bartender. They’d met Jaskier one summer there when he was just sixteen years old. He’d been a disaster of a baby queer, but gregarious little Rue had seen something of herself in him. She had taken him under her wing, and he had thrived.
When Rue was diagnosed with ovarian cancer four years ago, it had been at a quiet time in Julia’s life. Jaskier had gotten a therapist a year before and was finally out of her hair. The bar was thriving. Rue and Julia had settled into their home just the way they’d liked it, tea settees and all. Julia remembers looking at this yellow, gold, and cream-colored doily on their tea table after they got home from Rue’s diagnosis. The little sunburst pattern had seared into her mind as she sat in shock.
The following two years had been hell on a plate. The bar came closer to folding than it ever had as both Julia and Jaskier bent themselves completely out of shape trying to get Rue the care she needed. In the end, that had meant hospice and a funeral. Jaskier had ended up having to plan it for her, and he’d stepped up to the role with a seriousness that she hadn’t thought him physically capable of. It changed something about his personality. Julia watched him go almost overnight from a happy-go-lucky kid to a closed-off and responsible adult. The only exception had happened shortly after Rue’s death.
When the fuss from the funeral had died down, Jaskier had disappeared for the better part of two weeks. Scheduled everyone in, made sure payroll was cued to go properly, and just… vanished. He’d come back with a bloody lip and fear in his eyes, and Julia had been too heartsick to ask questions. That night they’d grieved Rue together, sitting next to one another and crying their eyes out. Jaskier had fallen asleep on their dinky little couch, and she’d tucked one of Rue’s crocheted blankets over him before she went to bed.
Since then Jaskier had been eerily quiet. At least, until Pride. After that his mood had been so pleasant that it was making Julia downright nervous. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, at last, it had.
Jaskier takes a few napkins out from under the bar top, passing them to Julia. They wipe their faces in sticky silence, and afterward, Julia pulls out a smoke and hands him one too. The click of her lighter is loud in the silent bar, echoing off the far walls.
“Can you imagine what she’d say about this mess?” he asks, a soft huff of laughter escaping him as he shakes his head. His wide blue eyes turn up to take in the fairy lights over the bar, the smoke twisting among them.
“Oh! I can just imagine.” Julia chuckles damply, shaking her head. “She always said you found love in the strangest places.”
Jaskier smiles crookedly. “She’s not wrong.” Smoke drifts from the cigarette between his long fingers, swirling eddies forming as it rises.
Julia nods, then blows a slow, lazy smoke ring. “She’d say… don’t listen to your heart anymore. Don’t listen to your head. You’ve heard enough from them for now. Go find someplace quiet, where the silence can slip in through the cracks of you and fill you up. Sometimes the answer slips in alongside the silence."
The damp groan of chagrin that escapes Jaskier makes Julia smile. "That's right,” he replies, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I would say, I hate silence, it makes me nervous."
Julia nods, amused. "And she would say-" Jaskier's voice joined Julia's and they finished together, "There's your problem right there."
With a damp chuckle, Jaskier shakes his hair out of his eyes and blinks away the last of his tears. “Oh lord, Julia. I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Suffer.” Julia jokes, knocking back her gin. “Suffer and die, probably.”
“Crash and burn, at the very least.” Jaskier snorts. He knocks back his glass of rum, then rises at last from the bar. He stubs out his cigarette as he rises. Then, with a soft clinking, he gathers all the glasses and takes them back to the sink to wash. A hush falls over the room, broken only by the splash of water against the metal sink.
Julia turns to watch him, leaning her elbows against the counter. Her head tips to the side as she watches Jaskier dry the dishes, then start scrubbing at the already-clean sink. He takes sanitizer and sprays it on a towel, then starts trying to evict the microscopic grit left around the base of the faucet. After a while, she stirs. “You think this guy might be it?” she asks, her eyes soft as she tips her head to look at her friend.
Jaskier looks down at the wet towel dripping in his hands. “I don’t know. I just… he’s different. I feel really different around him. I think I want to try, but I’m trying to just...” He grimaces, tossing the towel into the bin with a little too much force. “Take a minute to look before I leap.”
Julia breaks into a wry smile, hazel eyes sparkling with gentle humor. “Good for you. Does that mean I’m gonna be staying late a few more nights?”
“Could you? I could use the company.” Jaskier looks at her out of the corner of his eye, moving on to wipe the counter.
Julia scoffs, but there’s a playful note in her voice. “Fine, but you gotta cough up those kreteks you've been teasing me with. You owe me.”
“Oh! I actually have those back at my house, thank you for reminding me!" Jaskier exclaims, smacking his forehead. "I can't believe I forgot. I’ll bring them in tomorrow, I got you a whole case. They came in from Indonesia last week and I just spaced out about them what with everything else going on.”
Eyes lighting up, Julia socks Jaskier affectionately on the shoulder. “Hey! My man! That’s what I’m talking about.”
Jaskier laughs, rubbing his shoulder. “Anytime. It's the least I can do.”
Julia takes one last drag off of her cigarette, then turns to stub it out. “Listen. You want a ride home? It’s late.”
Jaskier wavers, then turns to look at the storeroom where his bike is. It’s a long ride home in the cold and dark, and he’s heartsick as all hell. It’s hard to turn her down. “Got room in your trunk for my bike?”
“Yep. No sweat. I’ll pull the car around front while you shut down.” Julia pats her pockets, making sure that her wallet, keys, and cigarettes are all in place.
By the time she’s parked in front, Jaskier is locking the door of the bar. They wordlessly wrestle the bike into the back of the car together, working with the ease of practice. In the car, Julia flips on the stereo and pops in a Patti Smith cassette. Patti’s smoky, dry voice floats through the car, twining through the bouncing and jangling guitar riffs of the opening song of the album. Oh, she looks so fine… I’m gonna uh-uh, make her mine…
They drive home in comfortable silence. Julia pulls up behind Jaskier’s car and parks. She eyes the white truck in the driveway silently, finishing her smoke as she considers it. Jaskier sits beside her, making no move to get out of the car. Finally, she stubs out her smoke and says, “Is that his?”
Jaskier nods. “Engine keeps overheating. He knows what’s wrong with it but I don’t have the tools for him to fix it, so it’s gonna stay there until I can get them for him. Honestly I don’t have the faintest idea what he wants, it all goes in my ear and then out the other. If he’d just let me take him to the store it would be fine but no-”
Putting her hand on the door, Julia eyes Jaskier kindly. “Kiddo, I don’t need every single detail. It’s his truck, I get it. Let’s go in.”
Jaskier puffs as he’s thrown off track. Then he smiles crookedly, face catching in a bar of orange light from the streetlamp outside. “Sorry. You go on in, I’ve got to bring the bike around back.”
Flourishing her keys, Julia nods. She ambles around the front of Jaskier’s house and unlocks his door, letting herself into the dark entryway. Flicking on the lights, she looks around. The place is uncannily clean and stinks of floor wax and furniture oil. Jaskier’s home usually looks a bit rumpled, like a bed that’s been slept in and then had the covers thrown back into place without being smoothed or tucked. Not dirty, precisely, but not clean. Lived in. This, though… she gives a low whistle under her teeth. Her friend had been understating the distress he’d been experiencing. His home didn’t get this tidy unless something really got under his skin.
She kicks her boots off and heads to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee going, then snags a pudding out of the fridge. As she’s digging around for a spoon, she hears the jingle of keys announcing Jaskier’s arrival through the back door.
He notes the pudding cup in her hand and the very corner of his mouth turns up, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he slips past her to drop his bag in his bedroom. When he returns to the kitchen he smiles at her, leaning against the fridge.
“Better?” she asks, tearing open the plastic lid.
“Better,” Jaskier agrees, eyes dancing with a teasing light. “Still like the taste of stolen pudding?”
“Tastes better if you swipe it,” Julia grins unrepentantly. She settles on the stool with her pudding. “Gonna cough up those kreteks?”
Jaskier grins. “You’ve got it. Just a minute, darling. I have to figure out where I put them.” He turns on his foot and bounds off to the other end of his house, rummaging around until he remembers where he stuck the package. It turns out it’s still next to the front door in plain view, hidden on a shelf by the other oddities it’s been stuck on top of. Jaskier’s house is unusually clean, but it isn’t that clean. Making a triumphant noise, he grabs it and heads back towards Julia.
Pleased, Julia opens the case up in a few quick movements and takes out a carton. She flicks it open, smelling it with great satisfaction. The rich smell of clove and tobacco wafts up to her, and she sighs in contentment. “Ah, that’s the good shit. Thanks, man.”
“You’ve got it. I’ll order more tomorrow, you deserve them. Takes them a while to import but we should be seeing them in the next month or so.”
Julia laughs. “Man, I’m earning them signing up to listen to your shit like this. Go check your message machine, I ain’t subbing in for your therapist.”
Jaskier huffs a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Fine, fine, I’ve got it.” He pours himself a cup of coffee, then ambles over to the message machine and picks up the receiver. He punches in a code and waits, then jots something down on a pad of paper next to it with a brief smile flashing across his face. He turns back to Julia, wiggling the notepad at her. “Got an appointment tomorrow before I go to work. She shoehorned me into her lunch hour.”
“Huh,” Julia grunts, amused. “Better bring that poor woman lunch, she’s a saint for taking you back like that on short notice.”
Jaskier looks chagrined. He settles himself back on a stool with his back to the refrigerator. “Yeah, you're not wrong. Best kind of saint. I thought I’d bring her Thai from that place up on Market street. You know the one with the little golden treasure bag dumpling things?”
“Man, she gets treasure bags? Do I get some?” Julia teases.
“If you come hold my hand tomorrow, you get anything you want.”
“Mm, no dice. I’m doing enough hand-holding as it is. Speaking of which, you could still bring it to me at the bar...” she grins over her mug, eyes sparkling playfully.
Jaskier rolls his eyes and sighs. “Extortionist.”
“You love me,” she snorts.
“I do,” he breaks out into a smile, leaning against the island top with his elbows. “Thanks for running me home.”
Julia shifts in her seat and sighs, leaning forward onto her elbows and giving Jaskier a frank look. “I got you, it’s no problem. It’s not every day you get blown out of the water by something like this. You gonna be ok?”
Jaskier considers his mug with a thoughtful moue, then nods. “I think I am, Julia. I’m sorry about this morning, it won’t happen again.”
Smirking, Julia shrugs. “Just do better.”
Fluffing the hair on the back of his neck, Jaskier nods. “You got it.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee, then asks, “How are you doing?” His voice is gentle as he asks the question, sensitive to the ongoing nature of her pain.
Julia shifts uneasily, squinting at her mug. “I dunno. I’m making it. Don’t wanna look for a new place yet, but I know it’s gonna be time soon.” She casts a short, hard-to-read look at Jaskier. She appreciates him asking, but she’s also not sure how much she wants to talk.
“When’s the lease up?” Jaskier asks, his eyes soft.
“Uhm…” Julia cleared her throat. “June.”
“Julia!" Jaskier gasps, exasperated. "That was over a month ago! You didn’t just sign a new one, did you? Why didn’t you talk to me first?”
“I didn’t wanna talk about it,” Julia growls, scowling.
Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t get all growly with me. You’re miserable there! Rue is all over that place, darling! I can barely turn around twice in there without bumping into something that breaks my heart, I don't know how you go and live there every day."
Julia presses her lips together, tapping her carton of kreteks between her fingers. She shrugs. "I can't imagine being anywhere else. All I have left is there."
Heart breaking a little, Jaskier sighs. He regards Julia kindly. "You can't hold on like that forever."
Scowling, Julia shrugs. That might be true, but she didn’t have to like it.
Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Jaskier looks her over for a moment. He hesitates, then says, "Why don't you just start looking? There's no harm in at least checking the paper…" he nudges her gently. "Worst that can happen is you don't fall in love with the first place you see. No harm, right?"
Julia shuffles uncomfortably, taking a big gulp of her coffee. She frowns at her cup, then looks out of the corner of her eye at Jaskier. “I can’t afford to break the lease.”
“Nonsense, you’ve got plenty of savings to cover shit like that,” Jaskier replies, still exasperated.
“Besides, even if you didn’t, I’d cover you. You know that!”
“I know…” Julia grumbles, “But-”
“So what you mean is, you’re still stuck and you’re not ready to go yet.”
Julia scowls. She wants desperately to argue with him, to lash out and protect herself, but the impulse passes before the words can even form. She shrugs. “Maybe so.”
Jaskier sighs. “Julia darling, I’m convinced there’s a place in the world for you. Somewhere that will feel good and be just for you. Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet someone soon? Stranger things have happened.”
“Stranger things can eat my ass,” Julia snaps.
Unimpressed, Jaskier shrugs. “Okay.” He pops open his pudding cup and spoons up a mouthful, sucking it off of his spoon thoughtfully. “Mm. Should you ever decide to come out of that suck-ass hedge-maze of grumpiness you’ve built for yourself I’ll be here. I love you, despite all your best efforts to turn into an unmanageable troll.”
“Oh what, and you’re Prince Charming?” Julia scoffs. “Puh-lease, you little drama queen.” They both eye each other for a moment, wavering, then break out in quiet laughter. Jaskier reaches over and pats her hand, and Julia smiles crookedly. She drains the last of her mug, then sets it down with a final-sounding ‘thunk.’ “All right, mijo. I won’t keep you talking all night. Thanks for the kreteks, I hope you work everything out. Call me if you need me.”
“I will. Same goes for you, darling. My phone is always on for you, and my door is always open. I don’t care what time it is, if you need me you come. Ok?”
Julia eyes him uncertainly, then nods. She had taken him up on the offer before, showing up at odd hours eaten alive by grief and unable to be alone with it anymore. “Ok. See you tomorrow.” She punches his shoulder affectionately, then heads for the door.
“Good night, Julia. Safe drive, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
~*~
Jaskier puts himself back together during the intervening days. He attends therapy, brings Julia her takeout, and things return to normal at the bar. Sunday morning he rides his bike, but this time he’s sober, more himself. At the end of the night, he pulls Julia to the side as she sighs in exasperation.
Jaskier gives her a sheepish smile, leaning back against one of the counters. “Sorry, I’m not going to keep you long tonight.”
“Yeah? Good, my fish are starting to worry I’m seeing someone new,” Julia cracks. “What’s up?” Her eyes travel to the closet where the bike is and back to him. “Car ok?”
“What?” He looks over his shoulder in the direction she’s indicating. “Oh! No, it’s fine. I just wanted to take a long ride tonight after work, maybe catch the sunrise out south of my house.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s Geralt. I finally decided to call him. I think I’ve got my head on straight and I still wanna do it.”
Julia sucks her teeth thoughtfully. It’s sweet to see him excited, but she worries about his heart, too. He doesn’t always guard it as carefully as he should. “You sure? From what you’re telling me, it doesn’t sound like you’re lookin’ at a walk in the park. He’s married, he’s got a family halfway across the world, he’s in the closet…”
Jaskier sighs. “I know, Julia. I was there, I remember.”
Julia arches her eyebrow at him but doesn’t comment.
Jaskier chews his lip. “I know it’s probably stupid, and I know we could break each other’s hearts, but…” he ruffles his hand through his hair. “I don’t meet men like that every day. Besides. I will definitely regret it if I don’t at least see him one more time.”
Julia rolls her eyes, but a fond smile creeps across her tawny face. “I’ll give you wanting to see him again one more time, you two really should talk. Just try not to be a dumbass, ok? Go slow. You’ve gotta take care of yourself, you’re not twenty anymore.”
The look on Jaskier’s face softens thoughtfully, and he nods. “I know. I’ll try to be good.”
“Good. Where are you planning on taking him? This doesn’t sound like public conversation material.”
“Well… that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking maybe the best place would be the bar.”
“What, don’t want to use your house?” Julia asks dryly.
“Nnnoo, uh…” Jaskier rubs the back of his neck, turning red.
“I get it.” Julia cuts him off with a quick gesture, smirking. “You wanna keep it on the up and up. Don’t you have somewhere else you could meet him though?”
“Mmm… I mean, there are some parks I could take him to, but that feels weird for a private conversation, you know?” Julia nods. Jaskier continues, “He’s staying with his wife at the hotel, and I feel like it would be rude to ask him to kick her out so we can talk. Most of my friends have these teeny apartments so I can’t exactly borrow space from them. The bar seemed like the best place.”
Julia hums, then nods. “I get it. Not like I have a porch I could offer you or anything.”
“Yeah. So…?”
Shrugging, Julia stuffs her keys into her pocket. “Go for it. Just don’t fuck all over the furniture or I’m gonna fire you,” she cracks.
Jaskier laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She might not be able to actually fire him, all joking aside, but Julia has a way of finding truly horrifying tasks to saddle him with. He isn’t about to try her and they both know it. He pushes off of the counter, then digs a faxed receipt out of his back pocket and unfolds it. “Kreteks are on the way, by the bye. Here’s the tracking number.”
Julia lights up, making grabby hands as Jaskier hands the receipt over. She scans it, then gives a satisfied smile and folds it up to stick in her wallet. “Great. All right, I’m gonna head outta here. Let me know how it goes, ok?”
“As if I’d leave you out of the loop,” Jaskier hums fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Am I gonna lose a hand if I try to hug you?”
“Yep,” Julia says with a chuckle. She reaches over and slaps Jaskier’s shoulder companionably on her way out the door. “Good night, mijo.”
“Good night, Julia. Drive safe.” Jaskier says to her retreating back, smiling. He turns away as the kitchen door swings shut and makes one last circuit of the bar. When he gets outside he closes up; there is a satisfying click as the tumblers lock into place. It has been a good night, and tomorrow is full of possibilities.
#geraskier#geraskier fanfic#geraskier fanfiction#geralt x jaskier#the witcher fanfiction#yenralt#geraskier pride week 2020#warriors blues
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Fic “Behind the Scenes” - Alex Rider
Trying to dip my toes back into writing, so I thought I’d ramble about some fics I’ve already written! This started off as ranting about my title choice and how they’re usually Final Fantasy XIV songs I butcher in order to forcibly fit the fic, but it expanded into musings about things that didn’t make the cut into the final fic, and potential sequels/things that happen down the line.
Just doing Alex Rider fics for now since that’s my current active fandom, but drop me an ask if there are any fics you’re especially interested in from any fandom!
Starting off with: Time (2368 words, gen, Alex & Yassen focused)
aka my untagged Inception-flavoured AU where the plot twist was that it was a dream all along
That said, this title was probably one of the easiest to come up with and was obviously from the main theme of Inception, Time! Which is fantastic like the whole movie aaaa i love Inception AUs and this fic is probably the one I’m most likely to expand into longfic if I dredge up the motivation from somewhere. It would be a mission style fic, possibly a heist, where Alex and Yassen are seemingly working together in order to steal some valuable intel from another group. Of course, it’s all a dream! Through copious dream symbolism and mind fuckery the real mission was set up by MI6 for Alex to extract intel from Yassen, who by this point is steadily losing his grip on dreams and reality after months, possibly years, spent under sedation.
Yassen has a few tricks up his sleeve, though. He’s aware that he’s (probably) dreaming and he can see the fractures in Alex’s resolve after such a long time of being used and manipulated by MI6. It would only take a little nudge to get Alex to defect -- or, at the very least, to escape.
So while Alex is busy trying to extract information from Yassen, Yassen is trying to do the opposite: inception.
The rest below cut for length and also because they’re nsfw since most of my writing was for the kink meme! Warning for general fucked-upness and unhealthy relationships
at the end, on a dusty road (8154 words, Yassen/Alex)
aka the reputation sabotage fic, aka where’s part 3b?!
Title from Origa’s Polyushka Polye:
The wind scatters your brave songs
Across the green field.
Songs of the past,
Leaving them alone with your glory,
And right at the end, on a dusty road…
i just wanted something wistful and Russian about past soldiers and fading glory ok....... I came pretty close to titling the fic leaving them alone with your past glory but decided it didn’t make much sense out of context.
ANYWAY my first Yalex fic! Very much inspired by a hodgepodge of comments on Discord about how MI6 would react if they ever saw Yassen paying Alex visits in the middle of the night - “Could they be exchanging information?” “The whole night? Maybe the answer is something more obvious...”
ANYWAY the ending at the moment is pretty open - there’s two main ways I see it going:
1) Yassen comes back shortly afterwards, realises he had fucked up colossally, stays and helps Alex rebuild even though Alex (very justifiably) no longer trusts him. Very slow reconciliation and healing but ultimately happy ending.
2) aka the one where I broke Nanibun’s shipper heart over Discord: Alex and Yassen eventually reunite, but it isn’t until years later, when Alex is nearing middle age and Yassen has faded into obscurity. Alex managed to pick up the pieces of his life and even moved on properly from MI6, and now lives a fulfilling life. Married, 2.5 kids, white picket fence, the whole lot. So what if his marriage is more for partnership than for love? He’s content with the direction his life had taken and has strong ties to his community. He even managed to forgive Yassen, even though it took him a long time.
He and Yassen meet for the last time in a sunlit cafe in spring. Alex looks at Yassen and sees only a stranger with lines crinkling under his eyes.Yassen is getting old, he realizes. He thinks he should be happy that Yassen even had the chance to get old, but all he feels is relief that their paths had diverged. Alex is done with that life and he can never trust Yassen again. All that old passion had burned away to nothing, not even a flickering flame. Even though the initial parting had been painful, Alex had managed to find peace long ago, and he hopes Yassen will be able to do the same. But it's a distant, unemotional hope, the sort of hope you'd have for a distant acquaintance you haven't seen in years. The type of well wishes that are etiquette more than actual sentiment.
He's glad when their drinks are finished and Yassen melts away into the chattering springtime crowd, one final dangling chapter of his life closed at last.
.
...............or, 3) Alex throws himself into increasingly dangerous situations in an attempt to feel something and dies young.
(part 3b is coming someday i swear! it’s the alternate path where Yassen has second thoughts, tells Alex the truth, and doesn’t send the sex tape to MI6)
---
Lemniscate (3562 words, Julia Rothman/Yassen)
Not a whole lot to say about this one, except after I finished I realised it was really similar to another fic I previously wrote which also involved a young man desperate to reinvent himself completely being taken advantage of by his superior............ i have a Type
Title - I was jamming out to Locus while writing this which is a song all about an inability to escape from cycles - When fighting back right out of this system/Means falling back right into this space ; When falling back is better than simply/Falling back into pieces again - but it was long and unwieldy so I thought about shortening it to Moebius but that was a bit overdone... In the end I settled with Lemniscate which is also an infinity symbol, Moebius-like shape. Mostly it’s a reference to how Yassen never quite breaks free of his “cycle” even though he’s with Scorpia now - he was Sharkovsky’s slave and bedwarmer and...now he plays basically the same role for Julia Rothman. (Just with a bit more murder and moral erosion!)
---
This probably needs a special content warning - major character death (gun suicide from the second Russian roulette scene), gore, necrophilia
closing the circle (3650 words, John Rider & Yassen)
aka is it still a gen fic if there’s offscreen necrophilia?
This was originally written for a kink meme prompt for corpse mutilation + necrophilia but then the John and Yassen plot thread kind of took over and I never actually ended up writing the gory stuff oops since it was too out of place compared to the rest. So everything below can be considered not “canon” since the fic diverged so heavily from its original plan (which is why the section numbers skip around - I cut out Yassen’s bits). But if you’re curious, here’s the details for what I originally planned to happen to Yassen (well, his corpse) and the Sharkovsky family, copy-pasted straight from my notes and full of as much karma as I could stuff in:
Yassen’s death, Sharkovsky shoves his fingers in the bullet hole and spits on the body in disgust. Yassen regains consciousness halfway through this; he can feel what Sharkovsky is doing
Ivan comes running in, attracted by the sound of the gunshot. Sharkovsky tells him to do what he likes with the body as long as it’s disposed of in the end. Necrophilia scene? Afterwards Ivan disposes of the body by locking it in the cellar alone with the Dalmatian for a few days
Yassen starts getting his revenge. Ivan is the first to go when he comes to let the Dalmatian out – the Dalmatian savages him and tears out his throat before it’s finally shot. Yassen’s bones get buried along with the Dalmatian. Ivan’s body is kept in the cold storage room in the basement where they kept the old food taster’s body while they decide what to do with him.
Maya, Sharkovsky’s wife, is next. She passes away in the middle of the night. Sharkovsky wakes up next to a cooling corpse.
There are whispers that there is some sort of curse. One of the maids talk about finding blood on the carpet of Sharkovsky’s study. She’s the next to disappear. Some other workers stop turning up.
Finally it’s Sharkovsky’s turn. He dies of poison. The dacha burns down that same night.
A Scorpia agent was sent to tie up loose ends (Scorpia didn’t know Sharkovsky is already dead); Yassen kills him too. He has no loyalty to Scorpia and just wants to be left alone.
Hunter is sent to investigate. He and Yassen talk, in the end, Hunter invites Yassen to come with him, Yassen agrees. But when they leave the dacha and Hunter looks back, he finds that Yassen is gone.
And an excerpt:
Yassen is dead. He does not remember dying. There are some things the human mind tries to shield itself from, and the memory of a bullet traveling through bone and brain to erupt on the other side in a shower of gore is one of those things.
Yassen is dead. He had hoped death would mean oblivion. At his most naïve and optimistic, he had hoped death would mean reunion. Happiness. A return to simpler days.
He discovers, instead, that death is not so different from life, except he is even more powerless now than before.
There is a body on the floor of Sharkovsky’s study. Its hair had once been pale white-blond, but now it is matted with coagulating blood. That same blood spreads in a dark pool against the carpet, clotting the fibres together into ugly clumps, stiff and flaking. The fire in the hearth is still burning sullenly. Its light glistens against the grotesque strands of viscera splattered against the ground, the furniture, the wall. A round hole had been punched into the side of the corpse’s head, piercing bone and brain. That was how the man who had once been Yassen Gregorovich had killed himself. The fingers of the corpse remain loosely curled around the old-fashioned revolver that had been the instrument of death.
The only living person in the room rises slowly from his wheelchair. Sharkovsky’s skeletal face is twisted into an ugly grimace of anger. He totters over to the corpse, nudging it with the tip of one polished leather shoe. “Waste of time,” he says coldly. “Ruining a perfectly good carpet, and for what?”
In a sudden fit of temper, he lashes out with a kick. Once, it would have been strong enough to break several ribs (Yassen knows from intimate experience). Now, the corpse merely flops limply to one side. It incenses Sharkovsky further. He drops heavily to his knees, breathing harshly, and backhands the corpse across the face with one shaking hand.
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So. Let’s talk about Veronica Mars. *deeeeeeeep sigh*
Ok, friends. It’s been a goddamn whirlwind for me. I actually went to the Veronica Mars panel at Comic Con, which I thought was a highlight at the time. They screened the first episode before the panel, and I was all ready to report back to you all that it was real good and to get excited for the new season, but then Hulu had to go and drop the whole damn series during the CC panel, which was a STUPID thing to do (or, at the very least, an extremely stupid thing to announce to the panel at Comic Con - the exact people who would not be able to watch it until after Comic Con, putting them at risk for some really big fucking spoilers. It’s genuinely surprising to me how little the people who are in charge think about these things. If you want to do a surprise drop (which, why, but whatever), sure, go and do it, but definitely don’t announce it to a room full of people who can’t enjoy it and expect them to be excited??). But regardless. That was just a wtf moment. I was still filled with enthusiasm and excitement and happiness that this show was back and seemed to be in good form.
Oy.
Cut to Tuesday morning. I got back from Comic Con on Sunday night, and life goes on, so of course I hadn’t watched 8 hours of TV by Tuesday at 7AM. Which is precisely when my dear friend, whom I adore, but who is apparently an idiot, texted me about how terrible that VM ending was and how upset she was. Now, because I’m a good friend and I know what she likes and we’ve discussed VM at length, it took me all of four seconds to know the gist of what happens in the end. I didn’t know the how or why, but I certainly knew the what. Cue fun spikes of anxiety and random bursts of rage, because what the fuck. Truly, what the fuck. But I placed my certainty at 99% and hopelessly clung to the 1% chance that I was wrong, knowing full well that I wasn’t. This obviously completely stymied any excitement I had for the show, and I dragged my heels for a full month before finally finishing the goddamn show just to get it over with. And now we’re here.
I’ve had a month to ready myself for what I knew was coming. It was both a blessing and a curse, since while it pretty thoroughly ruined my good time, it also meant that I wasn’t totally blindsided by that ending. And man, I would have been blindsided, because there was Z E R O reason for that. None. And now I’ve read all the articles in which Rob Thomas tries to explain his reasons, and they’re all nonsense. Absolute idiocy. All I see is a guy who always, always resented the fans for loving a character he didn’t want us to, who tried and tried to redirect us to one of his preferred creations without success, and just when I thought he’d finally accepted defeat, he pulls the most nonsensical of fuckery just to finally win the battle. Fuck you, RT, forever and always. I can’t fucking believe that I allowed myself to think you’d finally seen the light. What a ridiculous fool I was for giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Since I knew what was coming, I could look for the signs all throughout the season. So I searched for foreshadowing, or at least a narrative through-line. And let me tell you: there isn’t one. The season finally, rightfully seems to address Veronica’s deep-set trauma and trust issues but treats them like a problem and not a secret superpower, and it seemed like the show might expect Veronica to grow up along with the viewers who’ve aged 15 years since the first season? I was excited to finally have Veronica be the problem in a relationship, frankly. It was hinted at with Piz, but glossed over because there was only so much time in the movie, but it was realistic for her to have some trouble adjusting to a long-term, committed relationship, and I was excited to see that journey! I thought it was such an interesting path to go down, watching Veronica grapple with what she wants (or maybe just thinks she wants) vs. what she’s always known, or thought she knows. Lots of stuff there! Good stuff! And you get all the way to the end, when she’s finally decided to try. It isn’t fixed, it isn’t perfectly, she’s definitely got a long way to go, but she’s taken a few tentative steps into an uncertain future. And all of a sudden, quite literally, boom. It’s all gone.
Listen. I was never going to be a fan of getting rid of Logan. However they chose to do it, it would always feel wrong. I have never trusted Rob Thomas to handle Logan well, because he’s always had this undercurrent of anger in every interview I’ve read, this frustration that people love and respond to Logan when he wanted them to love Duncan! Then Piz! Then anyone else! His creations took on a life of their own, and RT hated it. RT was one of the ultimate examples of writers/show runners who were simply watching a completely different show than the rest of us. I could never understand how he wrote such interesting stuff for Logan but didn’t want us to root for him. It never made any sense. But I didn’t think he would sabotage his own show this thoroughly.
Because here’s the thing: I was never going to like him getting rid of Logan, but I could have understood it. I could have gone along with it if it had been done right. Frankly, the way it was building, it wouldn’t have been a surprise, nor would it even have been a bad choice, to have Logan break up with Veronica at the end of the season. And if RT couldn’t handle Veronica not being the aggressor, fine, make Veronica do it. She decides she isn’t willing to put in the work to change that Logan needs from her, and she ends it. Fine. Could work, at least for a few seasons. Let her deal with the loss, knowing it was something she chose, and see how it affects her priorities as she continues on. Certainly could be interesting!
You know what isn’t interesting? This. This is the only - the ONLY - plotline that’s a watered down repeat of a previous story. Veronica Mars, traumatized and hardened by the shocking loss of someone close to her? Quite literally, been there, done that. I know RT has been trying to recapture the magic of season one for every season and iteration since, but just repeating the storyline? Really, really missing the mark. There isn’t anything new that can be added to this. We’ve done this. This will only ever be a pale imitation, a tacked-on sequel hitting the same beats with less force. Lilly was a fantastic inciting incident that yielded a tight, well-thought-out season arc. But why would we want to start over 15 years later? What’s to be gained from this? Literally ANY other ending would have yielded multiple storytelling options, branching out with so many possibilities on where the characters could go. This is the only one that simply slams doors shut.
The few supporters of this ending I’ve seen around the interwebs keep saying things like “this show wouldn’t work if Veronica was happy!” Hell, Rob Thomas is saying the same thing. And to that idiocy, I can only say 1. of course it would, if you write it well, dumbass, and 2. if you think Veronica getting married immediately = happiness, well, what the hell show were you watching? The marriage, much as it could represent a step forward, was still VERY CLEARLY a huge, impulsive jump that was more a reaction than a measured decision. And that was something I was looking forward to seeing. Fresh off of a near-death experience and a renewed assurance of her love for Logan, Veronica marries him thinking that’s the end of their troubles, only to realize that it’s just another complication. Now Veronica has to deal with the new experience of having no quick exit strategy. All the problems they had throughout the season still exist, thinly covered by the veil of newlywed bliss, and she has to reconcile her happiness with her frustration and uncertainty. Logan still disappears at the drop of a hat because of his job. She still puts herself in danger for the case and uses loved ones and acquaintances alike to her full advantage. They hide things from each other. They love fiercely, they trust the other with their own lives but can’t trust each other to take care of themselves. Doesn’t this sound like a complicated, tumultuous relationship full of narrative possibilities?
Well, forget it, because why break new ground when you could retread old storylines? Yeah, that’s what we all want. Great job, RT. So smart.
Something that keeps bothering me is that if RT didn’t want Logan around as the happy husband at home but didn’t want to write more relationship drama between them? He already had the perfect excuse to ship Logan off for entire seasons at a time. Look, Logan’s deployed, oh no, he can’t even skype, he’s undercover! Cool, problem solved. No more Logan, but in a way that still maintains possibilities for the future should we want them. Ideal. Again, options. All you want are places for your narrative to go. Multiple roads it could take so it doesn’t become predictable.
This is predictable. This is boring. This is trite. Our heroes, struck down in their highest moment of happiness. Holy fuck, it’s dull. It doesn’t feel edgy. It feels derivative, a tired rehash of a narrative structure that should have gone out of vogue ten years ago. The whole thing just exhausts me at this point.
And I’ve read Rob Thomas’s justification for why he did it. They’re all flimsy, but if he wants to go do a Sherlock-style, Ms. Marple mystery series, flitting in and out as he pleases, fine. It won’t be the worst show in the world. Veronica’s still a fun and interesting character, and I’ll always enjoy watching her. But removing her from Neptune, and more importantly, removing her from all of her meaningful relationships, takes away what made this show special. The new version RT is pitching could be fun enough. But it’ll still be just one in a long, long line of mystery shows that don’t have much claim to my emotional investment. I might watch, but I’ll forget about it the second it’s over. It certainly won’t be the kind of show with a fanbase that will still be interested in watching more 15 years from now. Rob Thomas won’t be getting one of those again.
So yeah, that’s that. I have much more to say, but really I just wanted to get this rant out so I can put it all behind me. I learned long ago that I can’t trust shows and showrunners, and it’s a lesson I learned partly, if significantly, from Rob Thomas. I suppose it’s on me for letting my guard down, but I guess my hope got grandfathered in from an age when I didn’t immediately mistrust the things that were supposed to make me happy. I’ll know better next time.
#veronica mars#veronica mars spoilers#just in case#so i'll just be here selectively ignoring canon because frankly i know better#the ending was so stupid and tacked on that it's honestly pretty easy to ignore#mostly i'm just fired up about a showrunner mistreating his fanbase so badly after they've stuck with him through so much#just a baffling misuse of the support he was so lucky to still have#so i'll be cherry-picking the parts of s4 i liked with one hand and flipping rob thomas off forever with the other
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happy new year! for the prompt game thing: mattfoggy, soulmates!au, fake dating, prompt 19? 😂
Fake Dating + Soulmates AU = Fake Soulmates AU, right?? Right?? Anyway this took too long because it spiraled out of control and now it’s 2k+ words and there’s like four or five more snippets of future scenes in this AU hiding in my notes app now, lmao
(Also, apologies to anyone reading this who’s named Stephanie, lol)
—
It all starts because Matt is a flirty bastard who gravitates towards women that are capital-T Trouble like a child in galoshes gravitates towards puddles. That is — eagerly, enthusiastically, and with precisely zero regard for the people in the splash zone.
Foggy, who has become a permanent resident of the splash zone, is best friends with him anyway, for some unfathomable reason.
Which is a mean thing to think. It’s not unfathomable. Matt is funny and whip-smart and a big nerd and he just gets Foggy, and his smile...
Anyway, life in the splash zone is worth it. Just, you know, it’s hard to remember that after your bestie’s date steals your wallet or gets you sexiled or stuck in the middle of a bar fight that is definitely not your fault. Or, apparently, tries to swap out the non-accessible petition form your (blind, by the way) best friend means to sign with a marriage certificate.
Yeah. Really. That’s the level of what-the-fuckery they’ve reached now.
“I think I need your help with this one,” Matt says with a grimace.
“You didn’t actually end up signing it, did you?” asks Foggy, because, well, with their luck who knows.
But Matt shakes his head.
“No, it’s just. Uh... I, um, don’t think she’s going to stop.”
Maybe Foggy should just smother himself with his pillow. Or smother Matt with his pillow. The second one seems like it would solve a lot more problems, since this mess is entirely Matt’s fault.
“And what, exactly, do you expect me to do about that, Matthew!” he demands. “You’re the one who decided to sleep with Stephanie Jenkins even after I warned you about her crazy eyes!”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, ok? You told me so, is that what you want to hear?” Matt all but whines, burying his face in his arms just enough to leave his eyes peeking out.
He’s on his bed, head towards the footboard and rolled onto his stomach for maximum cuteness. His eyes aren’t quite pointed the right direction, but that hardly matters. Matt’s pleading expressions are more effective even when they’re aimed a little right of their target than anybody else’s could be from straight on.
“Ugh.”
“Foggy, come on.”
“Ughhhhh.”
“Foggy.”
Matt’s big, wide sad-puppy-dog eyes get impossibly bigger and wider.
“Ok, ok! Fine, I’ll help! Stop pouting, jeez,” Foggy concedes in the face of Matt’s pleading expression and general air of hopelessness. “But don’t expect me to come up with a plan or anything, she’s yourcreepy hookup.”
Matt’s posture changes immediately now that he’s gotten what he wants. He goes up on his elbows, grinning the grin that always means chaos is coming.
“Gotta pull out the big guns for this one,” he claims. “Even she’d have to back off over a soulmate match.”
Foggy, who has maybe spent the past year and a half idly checking his skin for a mark that could potentially tie him to Matt, feels his stomach flip uncomfortably.
“You’re not suggesting...” His throat goes dry. “You and I fake being...”
“Well, I need someone in on it with me who won’t get the wrong idea,” explains Matt, cheerful as can be while he crushes Foggy’s stupid heart into tiny little pieces.
Foggy swallows hard.
“Yeah, um. Makes sense,” he croaks out.
“Good,” says Matt, all business, sitting up fully and holding out a box. “I already borrowed some temporary tattoo pens off Marci, and she promised to keep our secret if we buy her drinks next weekend.”
“Why does Marci have temporary tattoo pens?” asks Foggy as he gets up off his own bed and accepts them, since it seems like the most innocuous of all the questions rattling around in his head.
“To take notes on her arms, apparently,” Matt replies.
“Yeah, that tracks.”
Marci’s the kind of person who could get away with slightly-eccentric behavior like that, mostly because she was dead terrifying. And also hot. She was the kind of person people wanted to step on them. Not that Foggy did. Or anything.
“Anyway,” Foggy said, maybe a little too loud, clearing his throat. “Where is it you want your soulmark, then?”
“Umm.” Matt tilts his head. “My... Arm, I guess? Isn’t that the best place to make it visible for Stephanie? I mean. Where did you think I wanted it, my butt?”
As Matt asks the question, his ears go a little pink, which offsets his sarcasm and is also hilariously adorable. Matt’s a cool guy, but he also spent like ten years surrounded by nuns, and every so often that becomes very, very clear. It’s definitely one of Foggy’s favorite things about Matt. Well, along with literally everything else about Matt. He grins.
“No offense, buddy, but you definitely are the kind of person who’d have one on your butt.”
“I am not!” laughs Matt. “What does that, what does that even mean?”
“Listen, Murdock, some people are just butt-soulmark people, that’s all. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Shut up,” Matt says, his voice still bright with humor. “It’s going on my arm.”
He shoves up the sleeve of his slightly-baggy sweater and holds out his right arm, palm up. So, Foggy digs around in the box of temporary tattoo pens until he finds one with black ink, and then settles next to Matt on the bed. Once he’s got himself in a good position, he accepts Matt’s arm, grabs it gently by the wrist to draw it down onto his lap.
And it’s like it finally sinks in, what he’s about to do. He’s going to literally mark Matt Murdock as his — never mind that it’s a farce to get rid of some creepy chick, or what Matt said about not getting the wrong idea. In a very real and physical sense, he’s about to draw something that will bind them together, at least in everyone else’s eyes. This goes way beyond bar napkin doodles, beyond wistful musings about Nelson and Murdock. People are going to see this mark and know—
They’re going to know what Foggy’s been trying not to know for a long time now. That he’s hopelessly, irrevocably, pathetically in love with Matt.
“What should it be?” Foggy asks, heart thundering in his chest as he holds the pen in one hand and the soft, pale expanse of Matt’s upturned arm in the other.
The smile on Matt’s face looks sweet and coy. A knock-out punch disguised as a cool, sweet drink. And as much as he pretends he’s a beer and cheap whiskey man, Foggy’s always been a sucker for the kind of fruity cocktails that knock him on his ass.
“Something fitting.”
“Gee, why didn’t I think of that,” mutters Foggy. “Speak now or I’m giving you an avocado.”
Matt tries halfheartedly to tug his arm away, laughing.
“No way, not an avocado. Something serious! Like... Scales of justice.”
“I see your hard-on for Lady Justice hasn’t diminished at all,” Foggy jokes, but begins drawing the scales anyway.
It takes enough focus that he’s able to override any feelings of embarrassment. And then he’s scrawling the same design onto his own skin, his left arm and Matt’s right pressed side-by-side as they lie across Foggy’s knee. Finally, it’s done and he caps the pen.
“Perfect,” he says, pleased, as he compares the two marks. “They’re identical. Suck on that, Mr. Trenkamp, I can too draw straight lines.”
Is it the height of maturity to invoke your hated fourth grade art teacher like ten years after he first insulted your mediocre art skills? No. But being the height of maturity is lame anyway, Foggy decides.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” jokes Matt, and his expression is so soft that Foggy has to look away before he, like, spontaneously combusts or something.
“Well, trust me, pal, those are some primo fake soulmarks.”
“Thanks, Fog.”
Matt nudges Foggy’s shoulder with his own, then holds out a loose fist. Knocking their knuckles lightly together, Foggy can’t help the giddy smile on his face.
“Anytime, Matt.”
—
They don’t get a chance to show off their marks until two days later, when they’re strolling across campus towards the dining hall and Matt pauses apropos of nothing and rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, juggling his white cane a little in the process. He then proceeds to fumble for Foggy’s wrists and roll his sleeves up too.
“Matt, what—”
“Shh, act natural!” Matt mutters, knocking his cane lightly against Foggy’s shoe, and then pressing a warm hand to his back to get him walking again.
And, honest to god, not a minute later up walks Stephanie Jenkins. Foggy takes a good moment to consider that maybe Matt’s lady-radar is actually real. In the next, Matt is stretching his arms (and his cane, the goof) above his head, right wrist crossed in front of the left so his fake soulmark will be in sight. Stephanie jerks to a stop, eyes trained on it. After the stretch, for which Foggy very carefully avoids looking at Matt to see if his shirt rides up, Matt folds up his cane and holds out his hand, fingers curled slightly, the way he usually does when he’s asking for Foggy’s arm for guiding purposes.
“Fogs?”
Well, it’s a cue if Foggy’s ever seen one, so he presses his arm into Matt’s grip, making sure the underside of his forearm is turned up for Stephanie’s sake. Her eyes go huge. Foggy gets the feeling that, no matter what he’s trying to save Matt from, he’s going to feel like an asshole if she cries. Thankfully, her face turns puce and angry instead. She’s probably thinking something unflattering about Foggy’s suitability for a guy like Matt but, well. Fuck her anyway.
Just to nail in his point, apparently, Matt traces his free hand up Foggy’s shoulder and into his hair, brushing a long lock of it behind his ear before pressing a kiss to his cheek.
In all honesty, Foggy pretty much forgets all about Stephanie Jenkins after that. Just continues on towards the dining hall, narrating on autopilot in between long bouts of staring at Matt with a racing heart and pathetic cow eyes.
—
The two of them get a frankly embarrassing number of ‘I knew it’s from their classmates, go nearly broke keeping Marci Stahl in vodka, and kiss four more times (three on the cheek, and one chaste, close-mouthed peck on the lips that nearly stops Foggy’s heart).
Also, Foggy gets Stephanie Jenkins’ crazy-eyes glare for three straight weeks. He loves every second of it. Suck it, Stephanie Jenkins, he thinks every time. Which is, yeah, probably a little mean, but hey, this is the lady who tried to take advantage of Matt’s blindness to trick him into (admittedly, a definitely not legally enforceable) marriage. Foggy doesn’t have an ounce of sympathy for her.
Though he risks jinxing himself, Foggy does eventually ask how long Matt thinks the ruse should go on. When Matt decides they should keep up the act until at least the end of the semester, Foggy tries not to agree too eagerly. After all, he’s not supposed to get the wrong idea. Eventually Matt’s heartbreaker ways will win out and he’ll want to find a hot girl to kiss. He’s trusting Foggy with an awful lot, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to... To, you know, fall in love with him or anything. But they’ll still always be best friends. That’s what really matters.
—
After three months, Foggy is used to seeing the fake soulmark on the inside of his left arm when he showers. It doesn’t make his heart squeeze anymore. He no longer has to remind himself that it’s still fake even when soap doesn’t wash it away — all it would take is a little makeup remover, after all. He knows that. It’s fake even though it’s there in a form of semi-permanence. Just another fact of life.
But this particular morning he stops cold, because there’s something on the inside of his right arm too. A perfect, identical mirror image of the scales of justice on his left.
Maybe he was so tired he drew another one on the wrong arm when refreshing the fake soulmark. Maybe. But probably not. Foggy takes slow, deep breaths until the end of his shower. Then he dries off, dresses — pulling on his shirt with the sleeves rolled all the way down — and hurries back to the dorm room for the box of makeup remover wipes they keep next to their sink now.
It’s fine, he tells himself. It’ll wash off. It’s ok. His hands are trembling so hard that he has to squeeze the wipe to keep hold of it and some of the remover solution drips onto his left arm. The fake soulmark there begins to smudge.
The one on the right stays stark and perfect.
“That’s not funny,” Foggy tells it, voice shaking, but though he scrubs at it until the skin’s raw — with the wipe, with hand sanitizer, with isopropyl — it doesn’t come off.
Eventually he’s got to face the facts. His dumb heart has somehow conned his body into producing a genuine, grade-A soulmark for his fake soulmate.
He is so monumentally fucked.
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A Terrible Kinky Alien Abduction story..pt 1
This story I don’t know I was bored it was late. But I often wondered what Reaaally goes on when M.K is abducted well... I guess you kinda know. With a bit of a twisted twist. :P
This is a long post. read at your own discretion this touches some subjects that maybe hentai have done before lol I don’t know I don’t hold back my freak because I’m not tagging this because I busted my ass on it read it or scroll past it.
“ Unngh my head hurt so much... So fucking much.” I blinked my eyes this room was so fucking bright why was it so fucking bright? My eyes begun to water. I went to rub them but couldn't in fact I couldn't move at all.
“Where the fuck am I now?” I uttered under my breath. I heard voices outside the room I was in as I started to become familiar with my surroundings. And then it became obvious I was far from home. This made me start to panic. What if years had passed What if Meg was gone?’
The voices grew louder as they stood outside this holding room door.
“Impossible, only a handful of cases have been reported.” One voice said.
“Sir I assure you he is nothing like I’d seen, he is quite a sight I am certain that we are looking at a very unique hybrid here.” Another voice female spoke.
A face peeked through the glass of the door and him and I made eye contact for a moment I was not happy and I let them know I wasn't happy. This was a trap. And I fell for it. I was out hunting for my own dinner. And I took the bait sometimes I want a different kind of food. I want blood.
Worst of all I was naked. I prefer to hunt naked, I’m harder to see that way also I’m kinda bullet proof depending on the bullet I guess. If they push me things are going to get real ugly real fast.
So I really hope they don’t trigger me because I might not be the same specimen they had in the beginning. We all have our inner demons, but some actually have demons inside them.. like ..me.
I hung my head for a moment thinking the absolute worst I couldn't help but focus on that, if they think I’m unhappy now.. If I found out they traveled light speed they are Soooo fucked.”
A sickly greenish elderly figure entered the room in literal awe such a scrawny creature he was easily could be snapped like a twig. “Hello Malikor Welcome.” God he reminded me of Mr Burns. His stance everything. I knew we were not going to get along.
“Welcome my ass.” I spat as he stood before me.” I tried to struggle. As long spindly fingers traced along my chest, my tats have a tendency to glow to reflect what emotion I’m feeling but by default they are mostly red because well blood is red.
“Oh my... you are truly a genetic marvel aren't you?” a long finger traced up my neck forcing my head upward to look at this....disgusting thing. “How long have I been out and where am I?!”
“Relax the old coot reassured me. Only a few moments, and not to worry your dear wife is safe in fact she is here just to be on the safe side . I lunged forward so hard that the wall I was restrained to cracked A gasp cried out from behind the figure I obviously frightened her. “If you so much as even look at her funny there will be a massive clean up on aisle 7 scenario I fucking promise you that..” I let a low growl escape my throat by mistake. Like I said push me too far and bad things can happen. For the most part this rarely if not ever happens, but every once in a while You find yourself in scenarios like this.
I could see the nervousness in the eyes of the old green fart. Before he swallowed and continued
“I under stand your concern her being human, and your children will be fine we only travel in such a speed if there is a reason to such as a threat from an enemy ship.” For now we are just floating around cruising comfortably.
“I see you have quite the pride 6 offspring and a 7th on the way. We are not cruel. We are merely curious about mankind... But you have really peaked my interest. “
“Now, I promise you no harm will come to your dear wife, but I can’t make any promises if you refuse to comply with our orders and hurt any more of my fleet.”
“We both stared intensely at each other for a second my brow furrowed But what choice did I have?” my wife was 7 months pregnant. With our son... Arthur.
“ Fine whatever..” Do as you wish, but no harm comes to my wife or my unborn son.”
I grinned bearing my well, not to toot my own horn but I had over sized fangs.”
“This will be the last thing you see.”
“Very well the old alien replied.” “We have reached an understanding...” The alien nodded and two workers released me from my restraints to the wall restraining me again as I was lead to an area. A large room with monitors and another female alien in a lab coat seemed to be almost waiting for me.
I looked around and it finally dawned on me what they wanted from me... It had been a long ass time..”
Things were going to get really kinky real fast. It was similar to how a dentist office was set up an over hanging contraption complete with all sorts of gizmo's including something that obviously looked like something used for “collection” that almost looked...self adjustable?” I dunno aliens are pretty advanced in their technology
As I got closer there was more to this fuckery than met the eye.
“Oh my..... god...” The female alien gestured to me to sit to which I hesitated.
“Yeah that’s not gunna be a thing.” Has it even been sanitized? She just rolled her eyes clicked a button that moved the seat on a set of rails that ...uh thing that stuck up was gone ... Until I was thrown onto it and sat on it.. It came back and was up my ass. I soon realized what it was they had me sitting on . And what that thing above me was A Venus. Uh milking machine..
And I was sitting on Sybian horse.. chair bench stool thing. I heard about these Meg has been begging for one. I was restrained ... again.. as well as my balls.. “ Is that... really necessary?” I winced my voice nearly cracking she wasn't exactly gentle. Next thing I knew now my pride and joy became one with this other device that was connected to a box and dial. That obviously provided some kind of electrical current of sorts.
“Oh boy...” I sighed... Secretly praying that I wasn't going to scream like a little bitch during this whole ordeal.
My attention was directed upward as things begun to fall into place and a screen flipped toward me.
I rolled my eyes “Let me guess porn?” The elder alien chuckled. “Oh no something much better.” With a click a live feed started broadcasting.. And to my horror it was Meg. Also restrained but in a much gentler manner she was given this long feather light dress to wear. That fell almost elegantly over that cute protruding belly I made last August. She was suppose to have the baby sooner but think this ones more human than like me. You never really know. Sometimes are kids are born with pale skin.And then turn blue over time scaring the hell out of our nannies.
Anyway it was almost sheer in some way. As if they wanted it to be easily removable. I couldn't help but feel angry. But it was short lived after the events next to come.
“ I thought you’d feel more comfortable keeping an eye on her yourself.” The elder patted me on the shoulder and left the room. Nodding to the Senior Pollination technician.
“ I yelped in surprise almost blushing how pathetic and girlish I sounded for a second”
“Relax...Malikor we cannot get the samples we need if you are tense.” “ I’ll make sure to make this “hard” for you I half grumbled have grunted as my body begun to respond to the stimuli.
“What... are you going to do to her?” I asked my voice almost cracking again.
This was going to be anything but fun... and it was going to get worse. Much worse. But at the same time strangely erotic. And I’d be lying if I said it didn't turn me on.
A male entered her area upon zooming in I soon realized what was going to take place with her. he was disguised as... me.
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Dirk: => Theorize
TT: You know a lot about Sburb, don't you?
TT: In the short time that I was a sprite, I cataloged as much information as I could, thinking it may come in handy. You could say that the knowledge granted to me could be categorized as "a lot".
TT: That being said, I only know what a sprite would know. I’m not fucking omniscient.
TT: Why?
TT: I’ve been thinking about my future self.
TT: Ah. It’s not good to dwell on events out of your control or out of the realms of possibility
TT: But it is still possible, is it not?
TT: Under specific circumstances, I can foresee you becoming the you we were able to catch a glance of. Extremely specific circumstances.
TT: And what about not becoming him, but becoming someone who ends up playing?
TT: There is a greater possibility there.
TT: That’s enough for me to want to do a little digging.
TT: Fine. What is it you were looking to know?
TT: Derse and Prospit are the two planets on which your dream self can appear, I know that already. Are there any conditions which must be met to appear there, and can they exist outside a session?
TT: The game decides which planet you inhabit based, for the most part, on core parts of your personality, and just a bit of fuckery.
TT: Alternates of myself have never appeared, separate from you or not, nor have any civilians, so I would deduce you must be an active player with their own form to appear.
TT: I've known instances in which the moons and planets can be removed from their session along with its players, as well as instances in which a moon may be transferred to a new session, but there are no records of either Derse or Prospit existing independently from a session.
TT: And my dreams?
TT: They match very closely with accumulated descriptions of Derse. A purple planet, populated by black chitinous folks, violent in nature, and sensationalizing nobility not yet awakened.
TT: A prince, a knight, a rogue, and a seer, tucked away in towers high above the general population, while a war stirs in the tabloids between the Dersites and Prospitians.
TT: It is likely that your dream self has awoken early on Derse, but keep in mind that the possibility that these dreams are a reflection of your fears of the future taking form in rumors you’ve heard of a death game is also present.
TT: Sure.
TT: So. We may yet play the game.
TT: We knew that the moment we realized who your future self was.
TT: But the differences were large enough to disregard that future. What about now?
TT: Now, it’s the same story. Nothing has changed, save for your newly acquired knowledge.
TT: What about his cause of death?
TT: That’s a different matter entirely.
TT: Is it? Burnt to a crisp by a psionic. Have I pissed off any psionics that you know of recently?
TT: The alternian empress has psionic capabilities.
TT: Why the fuck would we be fighting the empress?
TT: I’m not sure.
TT: Who do you think it’s more likely would have killed me? An angry psionic from a separate timeline, unaffected by whatever may happen in this timeline but certainly affected by where I stick my nose and how far I take it, already known to be on bad terms, or a far off empress who barely acknowledges the Earth anymore, targeting some random fuck off already slated for death by a game created by who knows what.
TT: We don’t know if it was just or heroic.
TT: We can make a pretty good guess.
TT: It could go either way.
TT: One possibility is more likely than the other.
TT: Perhaps. Don’t rule out other factors. You’ve met other psionics, we may meet more yet.
TT: He was years in the future. We don’t know who killed him or for what reason.
TT: We only know the cause. If that.
TT: Didn’t he say you and Sollux were on relatively good terms?
TT: He said that they were okay, but he fucked something up. I’d say this is as good of a fuckup as we’re going to get.
TT: Fuck. I don’t want to see a worse fuckup than this.
TT: Neither do I. It was pretty bad, dude.
TT: Fuck off.
TT: Oh, are we done? I can fuck off quite easily if you’re done wasting both of our times.
TT: And by that I mean fuck off right back here, I’m not done.
TT: Picking up on some of Vantas’ vocabulary, are we?
TT: Pick up the pace. I may have all day but that doesn’t mean I want to spend it talking to you.
TT: It’s still likely to turn out similar to the future we’ve seen.
TT: It’s a possibility. One that’s more likely than, say, you turning into a murderous psychopath and killing everyone you know and love.
TT: That’s comforting.
TT: What else do we know?
TT: He and Bo were matesprits up until his death. He and his session had yet to win. At some point he and Wig vacillated pale and pitch.
TT: I can’t help but feel that last part is unimportant.
TT: That’s all we know. What else do you want me to say?
TT: Something more substantial than my imminent relationship drama would be nice.
TT: I’ll be sure to let you know when you decide to talk about anything other than that.
TT: Seriously, you do not shut up.
TT: I’m lonely, I’m sad, I’m feeling angry and betrayed, can’t you find someone to vent to that isn’t me? Like Joanne! Or Roxy! Or Cass, I’m sure she’d love to know about how in the few hours after you came home and celebrated, you managed to fuck everything up!
TT: Can we get back on topic?
TT: Uncomfortable because you don’t want to confront your mistakes, aren’t we Dirk?
TT: The future version of myself that we saw isn’t a self in which I’m able to become, at this point.
TT: Correct.
TT: But something similar is possible.
TT: Likely, even, depending on how much of your dreams are real.
TT: So.
TT: So?
TT: What do we do?
TT: Don’t ask me, dude. you're the one this affects. I'm just the guy that runs the numbers and tries to keep you from getting too far into your own head.
TT: By the way, I’m pretty sure that’s a thing you’re doing right now.
TT: Is there a way to prevent the game if it’s already slotted to begin, or to stop it once it’s started?
TT: Those two questions are, really, asking the same thing.
TT: If it’s meant to begin, it’s already started.
TT: In a sense, it’s always been running.
TT: It’s already here, and all that.
TT: The only solution I can see for now is to abandon this universe to be destroyed by the coming meteors, and escape to a new one.
TT: Still, that is entirely hypothetical. Perhaps you’re doomed to play and it would simply follow you to your new world, dooming every subsequent place you choose to hide out in until the weight of the worlds you’ve killed drives you to face your fate.
TT: Perhaps it doesn’t matter what you do.
TT: ...
TT: Too much?
TT: I’ve been reading a lot lately.
TT: You have a flair for the dramatic.
TT: It has to have a beginning point, doesn’t it?
TT: If it’s some sort of loop, there has to be a starting and ending point, even if they create themselves.
TT: I have some theories regarding loops and Bro that you may want to hear out some time, by the way.
TT: As if this conversation couldn’t get any more lighthearted.
TT: The starting point would be the creation of the game itself, kickstarting events that would lead to the empowerment of the final boss, as well as the creation and destruction of the universe.
TT: You’re getting a little off track.
TT: Right.
TT: The closest thing you could get to a starting point is the development and revitalization of old codes by the companies Skaianet and Crockercorp, depending on the universe.
TT: Of course, those were only found, not created.
TT: Those both sound pretty fucking familiar, dude.
TT: They sure fucking do, man.
TT: So Jane and Jade or Jake are responsible for the apocalypse game?
TT: They had nothing to do with it in timelines I’ve studied. Plans for their development and release were far in development before either of them would have even be aware of their inheritance.
TT: So they could be in development now.
TT: If they are, they won’t be released for a while yet. It’s kind of a big fucking deal in any timeline when they’re announced.
TT: Great.
TT: So the bottom line is, either I’m fucking delusional and seeing things where they’re not,
TT: Entirely likely if you ask me.
TT: I didn’t.
TT: Or, we’re completely fucked, my dream self is awake, one of those companies are going to release a death game that we either ignore and go down with the rest of the world, or play and have an extremely high if not guaranteed chance of dying in some other horrific manner.
TT: That sounds about right.
TT: And even if we survive, that only heightens the chance that I’m going to fuck up yet again and piss Sock off enough that he burns me to a crisp.
TT: The future is bright.
TT: Fuck!
TT: Lmao. The chances of any of these things happen individually are low enough, but the longer you go on the worse the chances get.
TT: BUT.
TT: If you’re so worked up about this then we can plant a copy of myself in Mom’s lab.
TT: Skaianet has a subdivision studying and predicting meteor paths, that’s what she does.
TT: Kind of suspicious that a company responsible for the end of the world VIA meteors has a branch dedicated to looking at them.
TT: Or, it’s a major company that deals with all kinds of fields, the largest of all being the development of new technology, which happens to line up with the massive influx of advancements regarding space travel that communication with trollkind has brought upon us as a society.
TT: I like my theory better.
TT: You would.
TT: This is something that you’ve had on your mind for a while, yeah?
TT: I’ll tell you right now, it’s not going to happen, and if it does, we’ll be able to figure it out in time to make a real plan about it.
TT: So stop fucking worrying about it.
TT: If there were a problem, I’d tell you.
TT: You’ve made sure of that.
#in which dirk and hal realize they May be thoroughly Fucked#ic#pesterlog#HAL#2cumlord m#wwickedspirits m#briefly#these tags are super misleading theyre talking about sburb#death m#vwig m#ask to tag#ablism/#kinda
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New Fic: Rough Riding (Sons of Anarchy)
Chapter 1
Wattpad | FF.net
Chapter 1: Welcome to Charming
California highways were always the best for long drives, especially to motorcyclists. The long stretch of road seemed endless, the wind playing across the rider’s face and tangling poorly prepared hair. The power of the bike vibrating through the very fiber of their being, there is no losing the sense of danger that teases at them flirtatiously as they ride faster, harder, and on more twists and turns than they ever dared before. Unless it was a drive to clear one’s mind, you’ll find a smile hidden behind the eyes of any rider, unless they have shades on to hide their joy from you. Hidden behind the badass biker scowl there is always a joy for the ride.
At least that was the feeling for the woman, her brother and her friend. Two of whom were trapped in a van that held their bikes along with supplies belonging to the third boldly speeding ahead of them on his own Dyna. Both girls glared at him, wanting to have the cool night air skim across their skin and not deal with the stuffy rental that smelled of gas station sushi and the aftermath of such bad decisions. They had been in the car for so long that they’d gotten used to it, but every pit stop they were slapped with the putrid odor while Tank rode freely, his wavy, shoulder length hair billowing behind them as he stupidly rode sans a helmet. A further insult to the girls and how they were trapped.
“We better get there soon.” The passenger grumbled, her youthful, pixie-like face hardening with her frown and her pool water blue eyes hardening at the tanned figure in front of them. “Or I’m stealing his Dyna at the next stop.”
A brief and rough snort escaped the driver’s throat as she tried to imagine it. “I’d pay money to see that, not gonna lie. You know Tank won’t go easy on you because you’re a girl.”
“I can take him.” Came the defense with a seemingly indifferent bob of the shoulders.
“Ren, he’s got a foot and I’m pretty sure a little more than a hundred-fifty pounds on you.” A fuller bottom lip pushed past it’s top lip in a concern pout. “He also has, ya know… a rep when it comes to fist fights.”
“You say that like we don’t either.” Thin lips pulled upwards mischievously, Siren’s voice still unaffected. “Besides, I was our Sergeant at Arms, wasn’t I? Thanks for The lack of faith, Vix.”
Vixen Tirado let out a tired sigh, running her hand through a mess of chestnut brown hair. She new perfectly well how capable the raven haired girl was. Her rail-rod thin frame mixed with her youthful face and short stature made it easy for people to underestimate her. No, Vix knew better, but she also knew her brother; he wasn’t named ‘Tank’ for no reason. After a moment of careful thought, not wanting to insult the only female she’d opened up to, she let out a small sigh with an airier laugh this time.
“I mean he does lack the agility and reflexes that you do.” She offered a sidelong glance at the girl smirking next to her. “But if anybody is gonna knock my bro on his ass, it’s gonna be me.”
Both women laughed at that, Siren fully aware of the sibling rivalry that was known to get physical. Vix was never a tomboy, nor was she a girly girl, but she refused to live up to the Old Lady Example of her mother or any of the sweetbutts that she was subsequently raised by. No, she was going to ride on her own, and made sure she found women that felt the same way. Her brother, though sometimes concerned about what other men would say, always supported her in this, and taught her everything their dad taught him. Thus begat the never ending competition.
“Okay, that’s fair.” Siren nodded, turning to look out at the span of desert around them. “When he invited us to join him on his run Charming I thought I was gonna get a decent ride in. Not this delivery bullshit.”
“Yeah, or that he’d have a brother or two,” Vix grumbled, amber eyes checking her mirrors for what felt like the millionth time this trip. “But no, he tricked us into this fuckery. They must be using up all the prospects for something else.”
“And here I thought it was that SAMRO finally decided to go Co-ed. Or that a certain Tacoma resident was missing you.” A pale hand went to cover a doll-like face that held no real innocence in the mock expression. “Oh shit, did I say both of those out loud?”
Vix let out a snort, shaking her head at her friend’s eccentric ways, doing her best to. “You know you did, ‘mana.”
“Oh, I must have struck a nerve! The spanglish begins.” Though Siren new that her friend was simply calling her a sister, she needed to live up to the name. “I mean, it’s great that you are bilingual, it helps me to understand your tolerance level.”
Her response was a nod coupled with a small hum of affirmation, leaving the other girl to turn on the radio and sing along with the music. Siren was known to babble at times, leaving Vixen to quietly listen and add to the conversations as she saw fit. She knew that her friend didn’t have a lot of people to talk to, and though Vix didn’t say much, what she did have to say usually helped to sort all the noise in Siren’s head.
About eight songs later, they both straightened up at the redwood sign coming up to the right of Tank. They both turned to each other with smiles on their faces in spite of their previous complaints. The small town of Charming opened up to them, small shops lining the streets, and giving way to houses and more business related real estate. Free of commercial real estate, the whole town was full of small businesses and family stores that have been around forever. Their town slogan wasn’t wrong, the name did adequately say it all. Vix was sure there was more to the town that met the eye, based on her business here, but the look of the town was quaint and homey. Siren seemed more than a little excited about it while Vix prefered being back in Tacoma with the long runs to go shopping and the open air around everything.
They soon pulled up to Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair, turning into the open gate with ease. Vix jumped out of the cab as soon as she took the keys out the ignition, stalking her way over to Tank so quickly, her hair came up in down in a ripple of waves around her shoulders. She waited for him to back his bike into the line of other bikes, with her hand held out expectantly.
“Have a nice drive?” He smirked, his hardened face opening up with the expression.
“I had a drive.” She responded, looking pointedly at her empty palm. “I’ll have a better one when my Harley is free from being stuck with whatever we brought here.”
Tank gave out a deep, but jovial laugh, keeping the keys she was looking for tucked away in his kutte. When she ground her teeth at him in annoyance, otherwise not moving, he let out a sigh, a tired hand running through wind-tangled strands. Stepping around the bike, he wrapped a burly arm around her lean frame, squeezing her close for a second before releasing her.
“Gotta talk to the Prez and the SAMTAC contact first, Cyn.” The timbre of his voice meant to be more calming than his normal gruff tone, but it set her on edge even more. “Can’t have you two opening the truck without them. Already took a chance bringing you here.”
“Right, and I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that Koz was away and you had no one to babysit us.” Vix punched him in the shoulder. “ Which is really not needed given that we are only a couple years younger. Also, cut it out with the real name shit, I have an alias for a reason.”
“You and I both know that Melly would have ended up needing you to bail her out, or you’d get into a fight after drinking too much, and without any Sons to have your back…” He sighed. “Look, I get that you miss your charter, I do, but they’ve been patched over by a group you didn’t like, so you left. You need to start following our rules again.”
“I didn’t even get to wear the full rocker, Tank.” She crossed her arms, not liking to be reminded of that. “Stupid Steel Sirens stole away my chance.”
“They also would have taken Melly’s name away from her if she stayed, so don’t act like you’re the only one who gets to be angry.” A large hand gripped her shoulder briefly. “But come on, she’s staying by the truck, talking to their prospect it looks like, let’s get this done and we can figure out accommodations.”
“Great, another thing I could have done had I gotten a chance to ride.”
The woman’s grumbling was akin to a teenager, not someone twice as old, but Tank took it in stride, letting out another chuckle as he lead his sister toward the clubhouse. The lounge opened up to a gameroom with a bar to the side, and a set of large double doors closing anyone who didn’t belong to the club out of church. In it sat the redwood table that the Sons of this charter sat at for votes and important meetings. His sister would never see the inside of that room, no matter how much she wished she could. It was a big part of their old man’s life, having been one of the first Nine before moving to Tacoma to start off the Washington charter.
He felt his sister stop next to him, her body rigid and full of tension. He held back the need to hold her, knowing that it would only make things worse. They haven’t been to Charming before, or if they have, they were too young for her to remember anybody, so it confused Tank as he watched her reaction. When he followed her gaze he instantly new why, and cursed himself for not asking who it was.
Standing at the bar, a shot in his hand, stood his brother in club as well as charter. Baggy jeans rested on his hips, his knife holstered where it should be, and a gun on the other side. He wore a grey reaper crew t-shirt under his kutte, with his patches sewn in place with care in spite of their dirty state. Around his bald head coiled an inked Snake, one that she’d done herself, giving him two pairs of dark eyes to look at her.
They both stood unmoving, the mostly empty room becoming tense. To anyone observing they looked relaxed enough, but Tank knew them both far too well to let it stay how it stood. Moving his hand to clear his throat, he was saved by Siren bursting through the door with Clay in tow. How the small girl knew who to find, he’d never know, though his guess was that she fluttered her eyelashes at the prospect who was close behind them. Pointing to Tank, she smiled and whispered something to Clay before breaking into a skip and stealing the SAMTAC member’s shot.
“Heya TK,” She greeted, downing the shot with a grin. “How’s Cali treatin’ ya?”
And just like that, whatever hold they had on each other broke. Vixen’s body relaxed a fraction of an inch, and moved to introduce herself to the Prospect (Half-Sack he heard him introduce himself as) and Clay. Tank let out a sigh, moving to his brother, and wrapping an arm around his surrogate sister thankfully. As he reached them, they were in relaxed conversation.
“That was the last of the good stuff, Kid.” There was a frown stretched across his features before he turned to Tank. “‘Sup Killa?”
Tank clasped arms with Happy Lowman, giving his brother a friendly pat against the back. “Wishin’ I’d asked Koz who they sent down here before agreeing to this. Would have brought different company.” It wasn’t quite an apology, he didn’t need to give one, but he hated to see his two families collide like this. “Or given out proper warnings.”
“Can’t avoid each other forever.” Hap shrugged. “Haven’t really talked since the patch over.”
“That’s because you’ve been more Nomad than SAMTAC.” Siren said. A fresh bottle of tequila in her hand. “Found more of what you call the good stuff for ya, Hap.”
“Whose side you on, Reddy? Cuz honestly I just got mixed signals.” Tank joked, accepting a shot glass from the petite woman.
“She’s on the side of whoever helps her at the time.” Hap smirked, taking the bottle from her and pouring drinks. “Or she’s jus’ good at the whole neutral thing.”
“To quote something Vix taught me…” the girl said, looking to her friend for a second her eyes the only indicator of her worry. “¿Porque no los dos?” (Why not Both?)
“Yeah, yeah” The boys laughed her smug comment away, before Hap ruffled her hair and they followed Clay into Chapel. The doors closed behind them, and Siren moved towards her friend.
“You good? I know I made a joke about it, but I honestly didn’t know he was here.” She bit her lip, and looked into the amber and olive tones that swirled dangerously in Vix’s eyes. “Judging by the conversation I just heard, I know that Tank wasn’t trying to pull one over on you either.”
Vix nodded slowly, blinking as she turned away from the closed doors and started to move outside. “Well, it’s like you both said, He’s been more nomad than anything, but we can’t avoid each other forever, can we?”
Siren paused for a second, simultaneously shocked and guilty that she had heard it. After recovering, she trotted after her, wishing that just this once her friend would open up and talk to her. “It doesn’t mean you have to be okay with it, or that this Club business has to force you into it.”
Vix laughed at that, opening the truck door and pulling her old kutte around her shoulders. She always took pride in the life, and dressed the part, something that earned her respect among the boys, and jealousy from all the sweetbutts. She’d pulled most of the club official things from it, the Daring Divas of Tacoma- hell as far as they knew even the Daughters of Chaos- no longer existing. She kept her charter patch on though, as well as her Daughters of Discord one that proudly marked her as a woman who’s killed for her club before. The back no longer bore the rockers, but instead was a collage of biking and other patches, the two on her left breast the only thing that showed her old loyalties. One the right there was an embroidered fox that’s tale wound around her biking name.
All the other girls would see it as her asserting dominance, or pretending to be someone who was more than just a hang around, but Siren new better; This was Cynthia Tirado’s armor just as much as it was a second skin. The other girl pulled her hair out from under the collar and walked up to her friend, pulling a pack of smokes out and a lighter.
“Care for a Cig?” She offered, nodding her head towards the picnic table that sat outside the clubhouse doors. “I know I could use one after that drive.”
“Somehow, I doubt your sudden craving of the Nicc is just from that ride.” The paler girl mused, following in her footsteps anyway.”
“It would just be the ride if you and Tank would stop poking the bear.”
Vixen spoke plainly, wrapping her lips around her cigarette, taking a long and heavy drag from it the second it was lit. She sighed out the smoke, stepping onto the bench and sitting at the table. She offered Siren the box and lighter, knowing that she’d take one. The brunette wasn’t much of a tobacco smoker, but she always kept a box around for social situations or ones like this where she didn’t have a joint on her. The two sat in silence, Siren clearly wanting an elaboration on the comment, and Vix tried to figure out what that was. Relying on the calming qualities of the cancerous stick, she blew the most recent drag’s smoke to the side, turning to face her friend.
“Hap and I are fine; have been for years now.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ren droned, puffing out a smoke with a look stating she didn’t believe her. “Sure is easy to say that when you’ve both spend the past five years apart. Him going Nomad right after it all and you throwing yourselves into prospecting into the daughters. And the two of you doing your tattooing shit, and random hookups with people you both pretend are the other.”
The final thing was said with a knowing smirk, making Vixen groan out. She wasn’t one to openly talk about things, let alone her complicated past with the Tacoma Killer, but Siren was too goddamn observant for her own good. She took a few puffs before stamping out the quickly killed cigarette in the ashtray next to her hip. Vix talked about very few things, but the Happy case was a thick file tucked in a small cabinet along with her daddy issues and emotional detachment. They were red tapped as confidential until a yet to be determined date.
“We all have have our coping methods.” She said, feeling her skin prickle around her shoulders uncomfortably.
“Doesn’t always make them good or effective.” Siren stamped her own cig out, a small frown pulling at her delicate features. “Listen, Cyn all joking and banter aside you know you can always-”
“Talk to you about my deep seeded issues and relationship related trauma,” Vix finished for her, having heard the speech too many times. “I know, Ren. I just can’t.”
“You say that, do you really-”
“Enough Ren.”
This time the comment was snapped, ending the train of conversation. She ficked her lighter on, dancing her fingers back and forth across the flame. She waited out the various faces her friend made, and the stammered attempts to restart the conversation, her face devoid of motion as she took in her surroundings. The lot at this point was mostly empty; two or three non club bikers and the prospect working in the garage and more than the people they’d seen worth of bikes lined up in a row. Vix wanted hers out of the back of the truck along with whatever the hell her brother was delivering to the mother charter.
Her eyebrows perked up as a Caddy rolled in and an older looking woman jump out before the vehicle had fully stopped. The men came out, including the owners of the rest of the bikes, meeting her halfway. The conversation was hushed and quick, but there was an urgency in all of their forms. Tank turned to the girls at the table, muttering something to a blonde with a clasp of the shoulder. As the group disbanded, the older Tirado made his way toward them, his face taking on the more dangerous look of something serious happening around him. Vix stood up to meet him halfway, tucking her things into her kutte and her hands into her back pocket.
“That looked more important than an emergency car repair.” She stated watching the woman and the blonde take off. “Those the rest of Morrow’s family?”
“Jax never took Clay’s name, and Gemma tacked it on to the Teller, but yes on both accounts.” He jerked his thumb to the warehouse. “You and Melly hang out here for a bit. I gotta take the cargo straight to the customers, and then meet up with Jax at St. Thomas if he needs anything. Gonna be a longer stay than I thought.”
“Oh good thing I packed my saddle bags then.” She nodded. “You better take care of my goddamn bike. I’ll behave up here as that mandate is followed.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Sis.” He smirked, dropping a kiss to her temple before hugging Siren. He muttered the next into her hair, but Vix still heard it. “Make sure she doesn’t cause trouble, yeah? Fuckin’ trip is gonna be long enough without her making things worse.”
“Course.” She chirped, earning a glare from the other woman. “I’ll even make sure she doesn’t hussle the people here too hard.”
“Great, first I’m places under club arrest by my brother, and now getting all possible fun ripped away by my sister.” She spun on her heel with a frown, marching off towards the club house door. “Guess I’ll just drink myself into a coma or something equally as boring.”
“Love you Vix!” Tank called out, laughter clearly in his voice.
“Fuck you too, Tank.”
#fic: rough riding#juice ortiz imagine#juice ortiz x oc#juice x oc#Vixen Tirado#siren reddy#tank tirado#fd: sons of Anarchy#fd: soa#ocapp#oc appreciation#ocappreciation#oc app
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Infinity’s Descendants
“Trahison”
Pain, so much pain is all I feel. My neck feels as though I was hit by a musket round. Finally my eyes open but the things I see I am not familiar with.
I do not know this room. Through the pain I manage to look to my left and I see two young ladies. I try to speak and fail. My mouth is so dry I can barely swallow. « Où suis-je? » I say barely loud enough to hear myself. To my surprise the two young ladies hear me.
« Elle est réveillée! Dépêchez-vous, allez chercher Cassius » one girl said to the other. The one speaking approached me. Now with her this close to me I can see just how pale her skin is and her teeth, her teeth were sharp like fangs. My eyes widen and I try to speak again but she stops me. “Shh, I mean you no harm. My name is Mariana. I’ve known Cassius for many many years and he asked me to stay here to look after you. He will be with us shortly” she said calmly. « Où suis-je? » I repeat. « Vous êtes sur la place Louis-le-Grand à Paris » Cassius said as he approached me with a rather large goblet of what appeared to be wine. He sat beside me and ran a hand over my hair.
“Do you have enough strength to sit up my love?” he asks. I try once more to move but there is no use. My body feels heavy like stone. « Mariana pouvez-vous l'aider s'il vous plaît? » asked Cassius. “Of course” she replied. She stepped towards me and I jump causing pain to shoot through my body. Once I was still again she placed her arms around me gingerly and lifted me so that I was sitting upright then took several steps back from the bed to ease my worry I presume. “Céleste mon etoile, I need you to drink this. It will numb the pain and restore your strength” he said to me. “Who are these people” “how did I end up in Paris?” “Why am I in so much pain?” Are all questions running through my mind but “What is this?” Is the only one I decide to ask Cassius. « La vie » he replied simply. I trust this man with every fiber of my being so I begin to drink from the goblet.
This is not wine I am drinking. It spread across my tongue like soothing silk and went down velvety smooth but was swiftly chased by a sensation akin to ingesting liquid fire. A horrific pain unlike anything I have ever known consumed me causing me to drop the goblet. This pain would cause the earlier pain in my neck to cower and hide. It was truly unbearable. I start to feel myself slipping out of consciousness. I try and try to keep my eyes open and hold on to the present but I simply cannot. The darkness overcomes me and the pain ceases.
“Cassius, tell me the whispers I have heard are not true” “They are not true” replied Cassius. The man looked away disappointed then back at Cassius “Then why are four of my men dead and how do you explain this?” The man grabs Cassius’ arm. There is no wound but his shirt has a linear cut that is stained with blood. “Please tell me you didn’t” said the man. “I had no choice Jareth” the man Cassius called Jareth ran his fingers through his dark locks “Do you know what you have done?” Cassius took a deep breath before answering “Yes I do and as I said I had no choice. I will accept whatever consequences there may be” “There shall be no consequences. Marius will not find out about this” Cassius’ shoulders dropped with relief and he placed his hand in Jareth’s shoulder like a ‘thank you’ of sorts. “Maintenant, dis-moi qui Elle est?” said Jareth. “Her name is Céleste LeBlanc and she...”
What’s happening? How is this possible? I am seeing but I’m looking through someone else’s eyes.
The carriage door is open and the carriage is empty.
I see the three soldiers who had me surrounded and the lead cuts me. I look absolutely terrified. I watch the hands break neck of the soldier that was behind me. I see an arm break then blood coming from the leaders head. The movements i am seeing are so fast i can hardly process what is happening when everything becomes very clear and in perfect focus. The voices i hear though sound like they are underwater and it is hard to make out what they are saying “You —— her —— tell Marius—“ Marius? Who is Marrius? I tried hard to focus on the voices “What shall it be Cassius” I hear clearly. Suddenly I see...
No, this cannot be...the attack is....
...on me? My body drops to the ground and I watch the life leave my eyes but the eyes I am seeing with now do not close they turn to the other two “Now no one can have her. Enough of this fuckery. Go about your business”
I wake with a gasp. It caught everyone in the room off guard. Cassius was standing beside a very handsome dark haired man with dimples and he began to approach my bed. The dark haired man whom he was with took one step and halted. A very wise decision on his behalf because as soon as Cassius was close enough to me I lunged at him. “What have you done to me!?” My hand was around his throat. “I trusted you to protect me!! I gave myself to you! You let me humiliate myself on that...” My eyes start to water but I refuse to cry right now “I trusted you and you betrayed my trust” I shout trying to strengthen my resolve. “It is not what it seems Céleste” Cassius struggles to say to me. I tightened my grip around his throat causing him to fall to his knees. Some of the others in the room began towards me but the man that was standing with Cassius waved them off. He moved from the window to beside me faster than I had ever seen any human move. “How do you know these things? Who told you?” He asks me. “No one told me I saw them” I reply.
« Peut-être qu’elle est comme moi Jareth. » Mariana the vampire who helped me when I first woke said to the man speaking to me. “I have never known another to have this power” he replied to her. He walks up to me and places his hand on my forearm. “Release him. I assure you there will countless more opportunities for this” a small smile played on his lips. I desperately want to know what the hell is happening so I let go of Cassius’ throat. “My name is Jareth. I regret that circumstances such as these are the reason our paths have cross but nevertheless it is a pleasure to meet you” He says to me. As customary he bows and extends his hand to me and as customary I give him mine. His hand was cold as ice. As were his lips when he kissed the top of my hand. I had no words in reply to him. Jareth stood but he did not release my hand, instead he took a step closer to me. He was regarding me like I was something he had never seen before. With his other hand he assessed the cuts on my face that I could feel but could not see then he traced his finger across the cut on my breast. He looked me directly in my eyes and his searched mine as if there were something hidden behind them. The room was completely quiet.
Mariana walked up to Jareth and discretely took his hand from mine. “My love, perhaps she should feed again” Jareth was now looking at Mariana and I took this moment to truly get a good look at the room and the others in it. “That is the only way to be certain she truly does have this power” Mariana said drawing my attention back to her and Jareth. “I agree” he replied. Of all the people in this room, well vampires I suppose I should say, it seemed they all hung on every word Jareth and Mariana said. “Cassius” Mariana gestured towards me after calling his name. “No, it cannot be Cassius” said Jareth.
“The amount of blood she will need to consume should not be taken from one of us. We shall find a mortal for her. I believe the best thing for Céleste at the time” added Cassius . Who is he to speak on what is best for me? Had this been a couple hours ago I would have trusted him with my life. Right now he can kick rocks.
“Go with him. Let him help you” Jareth says to me. “In light of your fragile emotional state I feel it must be said that if you cause any harm to him in any way you will not be granted the answers you so desperately desire” The authority in his voice both puzzles me and intrigues me. I know nothing of him and he is well aware of this yet he still fully expects me to heed his council. Seeing that very one in this room needs his council I deem it would be wise to do the same.
Cassius has led me to the heart of the city. We are walking down la rue de la Paix, a street not far from la place Louis-le-Grand. Now looking at Cassius in this light I can see just how different he looks. It is a peculiar thing, how he stands out so easily yet is so easily overlooked. His skin is pale, which is not out of the ordinary, but skin like his was a rarity. Looking at him now one could almost say his skin looked like porcelain. His hair was beautifully healthy and the way the moonlight reflected off it was indescribable and his eyes! His eyes looked like rare jewels that were yet to be discovered. As I take in Cassius’ features with a new perspective one thought begins to consume me. Do I now appear to others as Cassius does?
Loud laughter breaks my train of thought. We are walking up on a what seems to be a very popular establishment. A young woman who I presume is slightly inebriated judging by her unsteady gait exits the establishment and heads down an alley. “Be swift” he says to me. He does not say it but in hearing him say this I know the time has come for me to keep up with him for he is about to strike. Strike he did, however he moved with so much haste I struggled to keep up with him. My will was sufficient but my strength was not. By the time I reach Cassius and the young woman he has his hand over her mouth. He looks at me and says “Show no mercy” I have little time to focus on the fact that his eyes are now red before Cassius jerks the young woman’s neck to the side and bites her. The ferocity in which he fed from her I have only seen once. A rather eventful occasion where I witnessed a wolf put an end to a rabbit.
The girl’s legs and arms became limp and she was only being held up by Cassius, she was no longer standing on her on accord. Cassius drew from her one final time and let her body drop to the ground. “Stop feasting before your victims heart ceases to beat. In years to come you’ll be strong enough to feel that moment but for now you are still too new to sense it so I shall assist you” he says to me after wiping a small bit of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Maintenant c’est ton tour” he says leading me back out of the alley. “Whom shall I chose? How do I know who to” Before I can finish my sentence Cassius says “You chose as you please. There are no rules. Death knows no bounds. Young, old, short, tall, rich, poor, weak or strong. No one can stop you“ I scan our surroundings looking for the optimal choice. I see an elderly gentleman walk out of a café, he has walking stick and appears very week. Out of all the people I see he seems to be the most logical choice for two reasons; 1) he’s weak and 2) he’s old which means he’s been able to live a full life and the end of it is nearing anyways.
I did just as Cassius instructed and I must say the taste was truly delectable. Perhaps this would not be as bad as I thought. As I drank from this man my senses sharpened. I was in no hurry to consume his blood. I wanted to enjoy every ounce of it. I could feel the man nearing the end of his life, his heartbeat was faint and his breaths were shallow. I removed my teeth from his neck and he was trying to speak to me. “Anything he would have said would have played to the mortal emotions you still have” he says to me after he snapped the mans neck while I am still holding him. He looked at me apprehensively like he was waiting for something. Suddenly a flash of images come to me with such speed that it makes me stumble and fall to the ground. “Make it stop please make It stop” I cry out as I grasp at my eyes.
Again I find myself sitting in an unfamiliar room. It is, however, at the place Cassius and I had left earlier which is somewhat a relief. “I know the only other you have turned had tremendous troubles grasping the barbaric nature of how we must continue ones way of life. Are there any concerns in that regard?” I recognize the voice that asked the question. It was Jareth, he was trying to whisper and was doing an awful job of it as they were standing in the farthest corner of the room and I could hear him clearly. “No she was completely unphased” Cassius replies.
As I sit my mind wanders and I am unsure if I should find it odd that the barbarities of all this are of no bother for me. Is it abnormal that I do not share this issue? Is this something that most vampires war with? The only thing I am burdened with is the inability to control these flashes I see.
“The Cassius, will you go find Mariana. I need a moment alone with Céleste” says Jareth. I turn and look at the two men. “Of course” replies Cassius. He gives me a respectful nod before leaving the room and I avert my attention back to Jareth. He smiles and gestures to the spot beside me so I move over to give him more space to sit.
“Tell me how you are feeling” he says. “Scared, Hurt, angry, confused, angry” I reply honestly. Jareth laughs softly. “All of that is understandable. Were you able to feed?” he asks. “Yes” I reply. “And how did you find it?” he crosses on leg over the other a places a his hand under his chin as though he was eagerly awaiting my response. “Both delightful and horrifying” I reply with a small laugh. Jareth shakes his head “The memories I presume?” He asks softly. I shake my head in reply and look down at my hands, unsure what else to do. Next, He does something that I do not expect. He places his hand on my back and gently rubs it. “How could a stranger be so consoling?” I ask myself.
After a brief moment of nothing but silence and a consoling hand rubbing my back Jareth speaks. “I will have the ladies draw you a bath. Cassius will escort you. If you need anything else please let Cassius or myself know. We will provide you with anything that you need” He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Thank you for your hospitality Jareth. It is much appreciated”
While Céleste bathed Cassius went to Jareth’s chambers. The two of them were sitting at the bottom of Jareth’s bed conversing. “I have no malice towards her. I actually think she is a very fine young lady but you know the rules Cassius. She is not part of this coven so she has no place here. It would be up to Marrius to decide if she would be accepted and quite frankly given the circumstances of her change I would not suggest bringing her before him” said Jareth. “I feared you may say that. There must be a way Jareth, I cannot leave her” Cassius stood began pacing back and forth before Jareth. “You have no knowledge of what it is like to leave those that you love for a life of loneliness” he said. “Be that as it may you still cannot go back to Marseille. Our dealings there are done and we have vacated Château D’If. However, I did over hear father in talks with the other elders in the camorra. They spoke of new plans to relocate some of the hierarchy. I will see to it that you are who they entrust with security. You may do as you wish with Mademoiselle LeBlanc whilst you are there” A bit out of character Cassius embraced Jareth in a hug the started to leave the room.
« Cassius, encore une chose. Marrius expects you to be at the party...As do I. Mariana has requested a masquerade. So, I believe It would do you well to ensure that all the guests are dressed appropriately. Tu comprends? » Cassius nodded with a grateful smile.
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Young!Remus Lupin x Female Reader: Night Intruder, Part 1
A/N : Never thought I’d gather enough courage to post something of my own. Yet here it is - that’s just how fucked up Andrew Garfield aka Remus Lupin got me these past days. This was originally conceived as a three-part imagine, so if you are interested in reading what follows, don’t hesitate to hit me up. Hope you enjoy it, lads xo
WARNINGS: Angst! Swear words, Blood… My hideous English.
Through the heavy curtain of slumber, you thought you heard someone knocking violently on your dorm room’s door. With your eyes still shut, you silently begged for that stubborn someone to give up, when suddenly, you heard your name in a loud whisper.
“Y/N, please!”
You groaned, burying your head under the pillow, pressing its edges tightly to your ears. The banging on the door, however, never ceased.
“Oh for Godric’s sake, Y/N, just answer the bloody door!” Lily hissed, from the looks of it only one more bang away from hexing the night intruder. Muttering a mile-long curse under your breath, you swung your legs over the edge of your bed, searching for your home slippers in the dark with your feet.
“I’m coming!” you wheezed sleepily, trying to keep the irritation at bay, but failing miserably. “I swear to Merlin you better have a good excuse for waking me up at this hour!”
“Y/N, shut up!” you finally forced yourself to stand up, leaving slippers behind, and headed towards the door, when Marlene gave way to her annoyance. “And tell that bloody lunatic outside that if he doesn’t stop I’ll…”
You never heard what Marlene would do to the boy standing outside – quickly pushing the door, you stepped out in the darkness and shut it loud enough for girls inside to shower you with swear words. You were now standing at the top of the stairs, pitch blackness surrounding both you and the kamikaze who thought waking you up at two a.m. was a good idea.
“Who’s there?” you muttered under your breath, hugging your shoulders – someone must have opened the windows in the common room, and the wind was now waltzing frantically within the tower’s walls.
Instead of answering the question, the boy grabbed your hand, pulling you down the stairs with him. You gasped as you stumbled, missing two steps, mentally making estimations about how painful the landing would be, when another large yet elegant hand appeared from nowhere, scooping you in a tight embrace, keeping you from kissing the stairs.
As you felt your cheek brush against his shoulder, your savior suddenly moaned, and you felt something hot and stinky smear your face.
Blood. It smelled like blood.
Carefully releasing you, the boy stumbled back and leaned tiredly against the wall, the ever burning fireplace being close enough now to light up his features.
As you saw his face, you gasped again, this time in horror.
“Remus!” you exclaimed, “What the fuck has happened to you?”
The slumber, fogging your brain, was long gone as you stepped closer to your best friend, placing both hands on his chest. Biting your lip in concentration, you tore the blood stained shirt he wore apart, buttons falling at your feet. It took you a minute to examine his wounded shoulder, and you had seen enough of his injuries in the past to know that this time he had it bad. Refusing to raise your glance to meet his eyes, you stretched out your bloody hand.
“Your wand, Lupin”.
Swallowing hard, Remus squirmed, his face reflecting the suffering even the slightest movement caused him to endure.
“I don’t have it,” his voice came out hoarse and pain stricken. “I lost it when I fell…”
“Shut it then, I’m trying to concentrate!” you scoffed at him, closing your eyes and trying to feel your best friend’s pain. When your breathing steadied, you began whispering healing charms, one stronger than the other, as relief soon became apparent on Lupin’s face. Once you’ve finished healing his nasty gash, you attended to all the bruises, decorating his face. Your fingertips danced around his scratches, making them fade out slowly. Remus kept his eyes closed, his face peaceful, as he surrendered to the mercy of your charms. After healing what seemed like a broken hand – no wonder he groaned when he prevented you from falling - you collapsed onto the cold steps by his side, completely out of breath. You felt a little dizzy after all that insane amount of magic you had just produced, and without a second thought, you buried your face in your hands, smearing Rem’s blood all over your cheekbones, trying to stop the world from spinning.
“Y/N, I’m… so sorry…” You heard from somewhere above your head, and the anger seemed to evaporate off you that very instant, leaving you feeling empty. You threw your head back to look at him, still leaning against the wall, his beautiful face covered with faded out marks. Disappointment stabbed you, like a thief in the night.
“You always are”, you said, tired to pretend like any of this was okay. You’ve had enough of patching your best friend up everytime he broke something after a particularly nasty full moon. You gave him three years of midnight and early morning healing sessions, three years of worrying whether he was alive and well everytime he and the other stupid-ass marauders disappeared, wondering whether all four of them were going to come back. Three years of unrequited love and care, which seemed to go completely unnoticed and frankly, today you felt like you simply had enough.
Before he could even open his mouth to try and justify the fact that he was all bloodstains and bruises even though a full moon was nowhere in sight, you rose back to your feet, eyeing him warningly.
“I don’t even want to know what happened, Rem”, you could swear you saw Remus flinch at the coldness of your voice, but in this dim light, you might have been mistaken. “Please, spare me whatever fuckery you pulled with your dumbass friends this time. I’m done, Lupin. So when you’re gonna come looking for someone to heal your broken bones next time, I don’t want to be found.”
You nearly choked on your own words, but you knew you had to lay it out there in the open. You couldn’t go on like this. You knew you’d probably hate yourself in the morning for every fucking word that escaped your mouth, but right now you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Just this once, you were going to put you first, and no matter what your heart was screaming at you, you knew you deserved to be selfish just this once.
Raising your eyes to meet Lupin’s stare, you suddenly realized how cold you were – wearing a silk sleeping gown, you shifted on your bare feet, the iciness of the stone steps biting at your heels. Remus was a pity sight to watch. The boy looked as if he were slapped right across his face, but he was taking the blow like a man – his fists clutched, his face pale and blank.
You stood there, hugging yourself, staring at him, waiting for him to say something. You kept internally screaming at him, begging him to whisper something – anything – to make you change your mind. To show you that he cared if you stayed or went. The silence became deafening. It felt like all the air was sucked out of the staircase you two were currently occupying.
When you thought your heart just wouldn’t take as much as a minute more and simply stop dead, Remus cleared his throat.
“I’m very sorry to have bothered you for this last time, Y/N”, he finally managed, looking straight into your eyes.
You just continued to stare at him, wide-eyed. After all you’d done for him, after everything you two had been through, this was the only thing he came up with when you told him you were leaving and you weren’t ever coming back.
Biting back bitter tears, burning at the back of your stare, you nodded slowly.
“Have a great life, Remus”, you barely exhaled, before turning on your heels and running back to your dorm room, making as much noise as a baby elephant probably would, but at this point giving zero fucks.
You kept telling yourself you wouldn’t cry, and you did not, lying awake in your bed till the morning sun painted the sky blush pink.
#marauder imagine#remus lupin#remus x reader#harry potter#harry potter reader insert#marauders x reader#moony x reader#moony wormtail padfoot and prongs#hogwarts#young remus lupin#x reader
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Warrior’s Blues Ch 11: What Would I Do Without You?
WOW! It is finally here, the much-awaited chapter 11 of Warrior’s Blues! As @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog (most excellent editor and co-creator of this fic) can tell you, getting this chapter into shape was uphill both ways in the snow. I am super pleased with how it shaped up though, and I think you guys will like it, too!
Jaskier shows up to work after Yennefer’s visit drunk, and his best friend is there to help him sort himself out. CW for smoking, drinking, implied death of an OC, grieving
Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged) for future updates!!
@astouract @ladyknight-keladry @yes-im-the-violin-girl @smolpoe
Rating: M
On the day of Yennefer’s visit, Jaskier arrives at work on a bicycle. He’s late and on a bicycle for the same reason, which is to say, he is drunk and cannot drive his car. He is drunk because he’d been so full of mixed emotions after Yennefer left that he’d sat down to eat the rest of the fruit and whipped cream. Somewhere in there, it had seemed like a brilliant idea to pour half a bottle of bourbon after it.
It was not. Luckily for him, the person working the bar tonight is Julia.
She is a stocky woman in her mid-forties. She has tawny skin and skeptical hazel eyes, and there’s a kind twist to her lips that she often hides. She has a tuft of cropped blue hair and wears a denim vest with a white t-shirt. Even though she is exasperated when he staggers through the door, she feeds him a sandwich and coffee while she fills him in on the meeting he missed. From there, she lets the crew in for the night.
Jaskier feels like the whole world is an itchy sweater, even after the sandwich and coffee. It’s like his brain is on fire, and he can’t quite settle into the usual friendly chatter that his job requires. He passes an irritable and lonely night out by the door. By the time it’s time to clock out most of the staff is eager to clear out from underfoot; Jaskier is a great boss, but when his nearly infinite good humor runs out he can be a real asshole.
The only one who doesn’t give a fuck is Julia. She knew from the second she saw him wheeling in the door that it was going to be a late night, so she lets the rest of the staff out before pouring herself a big glass of gin. Then she settles her elbows against the bar, watching Jaskier mop the dancefloor. He is flailing wildly with the mop, clearing the floor with brutal inefficiency. Internally she begins to count down the time until he knocks the bucket over. Sure enough, a moment later he does just that. She nods in satisfaction, pleased that her timing is still on point.
Jaskier throws his head back and lets out a shout of pure frustration as his poorly-contained feelings boil over at last. Julia smirks and grabs a bunch of towels, then ambles over to him and starts tossing them on the floor to soak up the mess.
As she does so she says nothing, but the look she gives him makes him feel transparent. Jaskier avoids her eyes as he tosses some towels down onto the puddle.
Julia gives a little harrumph, unimpressed, bending to help him clear the towels away. They right the bucket and clean the floor in silence. When they’re done, she turns to him and gives him a long look.
“So… What’s eating you?”
Jaskier grumbles and straightens. “Nothing.” He hauls the bucket away, fills it with water, and returns. Without making eye contact he begins to mop again.
Julia hums, crossing her arms. “Yeah, and nothing made you stink like bourbon, too. Cough it up.” She leans against a nearby wall, giving him a skeptical look. He looks at her from under the fringe of hair that has fallen over his face. Something about the wide-eyed, guilty glances that he keeps shooting her makes him look sixteen again. She smirks. “I think you wanna tell me but you’re embarrassed, so how about I start making guesses?”
Going pale, Jaskier groans. “Why are you so hell-bent on pushing my buttons?” The last thing he wants is Julia making guesses about what is bothering him. She has a terrible habit of being accurate and she has a memory like an elephant.
“Because you’re not a dumbass kid anymore and you haven’t shown up drunk in years. You missed an important meeting! What the fuck, Jaskier? Don’t make me call you Julian, I swear to fucking god I’ll break out your birth name.”
“Julia…!” Jaskier protested. “I d-”
“Julian Alfred P-”
“Fine! Stop! Oh my god, you are merciless!” Jaskier cries, but secretly he’s glad that she cares enough to needle him. He stops and holds the mop for a moment, blowing his hair out of his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. Then he starts pushing it across the floor again. “I’m sure you heard about the man who rescued Pride this year.”
“Heh, I feel like I’ve met him. Yarpen won’t shut up. Heard from him recently?” She narrows her eyes at him, sure that she’s about to hear some sort of horny idiot story.
Jaskier blushes hotly, confirming Julia’s suspicions. “Well, funny thing about that.”
“What did you do now?” Julia asks, smirking. She retreats to the bar and picks up her tumbler of gin, then lights a cigarette.
“We-e-elll…” Jaskier prevaricates.
Julia gives him a long look, and he folds.
“Um, so I might have brought him back to my house after Pride.”
Julia barks a short laugh. “Color me not surprised. What’s the problem? Is he why you were wearing that birdy when you came in?”.
Jaskier’s flush deepens. “I meant to take that off before his wife showed up. After that my day got all sort of… muddled.”
“You mean you got chewed out and then got drunk, right?”
“No! You know what, Julia? She yelled at me when I met her in the hospital, but when she came to my house she was…” He pauses, seeing the bewildered look on Julia’s face. “All right, let me back up and explain. He broke his hand, and I had to take him to the hospital. Two weeks later we go for his followup appointment and his wife is there waiting for him. Tracked him down all the way from fucking England! Got the third degree from her there, but the wildest part is, she showed up at my house the next day to talk. About me dating him.”
Julia laughs again, harder and longer. “What the fuck, Jaskier?”
Despite himself, Jaskier breaks into a rueful grin.“Right? Seriously though Julia. If I talk to you about this it stays strictly between you and me, got it? All of it. He’s in the closet and no one else here needs to know any of this.”
“You got it. No gossip. Your secrets are my secrets.” Julia smiles crookedly, sipping at the last of her gin. She’s been keeping Jaskier’s shit to herself since he was a teen. At first, it was out of a desire to not get involved, but by now she genuinely likes the dingbat. He’s dumb but sweet, and he’s been good to her. “So what’s the deal, kiddo?”
“So what it all boiled down to is that she’s not mad at me for sleeping with him… she’s mad I slept with him so fast. Turns out she’s okay with me seeing him again.”
Julia puts her glass down on the bartop, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Okay, that is a new one on me, I gotta admit. What’s the story there? She into watching or something?”
A surprised laugh escapes Jaskier. “No, thank fucking god, I don’t think I’d survive. This woman… oh Julia, you should have seen her. She’s like, five foot four inches of lightning in a bottle. A total force of nature. I think she could snap me like a twig.” A wry twinkle comes into his eye as Julia’s eyebrow goes up.
Smirking, Julia taps some ash off of her cigarette. “Sounds like a hell of a woman.”
Jaskier snorts, cutting her an amused look. “She is, but I don’t think you’d get very far with her. She’s asexual.”
“Oh? The plot thickens.” Julia grins wolfishly, leaning her chin on her hand. Jaskier had a way of getting up to his neck in crazy situations, and it had become something of a spectator sport for her over the years.
Flushing with embarrassment, a crooked grin flickers across Jaskier’s face. “Yeah, well.” He turns his glass in a full circle. “So it turns out, they uh… have a kid together. And I want you to understand how terrifying this woman was because there was no way in hell I was going to ask for more details. But. What she told me was this. They got married because of their daughter, but Geralt… her husband, the man I was sleeping with… He’s gay.”
“Oh man, you really have a way of finding them, don't you?" This is top-notch Jaskier fuckery, it really is. She’s glad she’d stayed to get the story out of him, even though she knew it meant that she’d be dragged into his shit sooner rather than later.
“I really do,” Jaskier agrees with a little groan.
“What’s her name?”
“Yennefer.”
“Hm. Nice names. Yennefer and Geralt. So she got mad at you for sleeping with Geralt so fast, and then what?”
“And then, Julia! She told me that she’d always hoped that he’d find someone special. She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘maybe someone like you’ and I just lost my mind. Just- Pow!” He makes an exploding gesture out from his head with his hands, then shakes his head and returns to mopping.
“Wow. That was not the reaction I was expecting.”
“Yeah. Yeah! No kidding! Apparently, he’s always been free to choose his lovers. He’s never wanted to bring one home before, though.”
Julia lets out a low whistle, her eyebrows going up. “So he likes you, likes you. And his wife is… okay with this?”
“I don’t think she likes me very much, Julia, but she gave me the phone number to their hotel room. Says I should have a real talk with him before I think about dating him.” He stalks past her into the kitchen to dump out the dirty mop water.
“Just like that?” Julia laughs, leaning in the doorway.
“Threatened to bury my dead body if I didn’t treat him right, in those exact words,” Jaskier says over his shoulder.
Julia leans against the doorframe, shaking with mirth. “Oh my fucking god, Jaskier.”
“I know!” Jaskier cries, flinging his hands up. “This is absurd, Julia! And you know what’s even more ridiculous? I really think I could fall for him, I really do. He’s just so…” He sighs, tossing the mop and bucket in their corner and washing his hands.
“Yeah, Yarpen wouldn’t shut up about him. Six feet plus, white hair, amber eyes, stacked? Sounds very striking.” Julia drawls, eyebrows arching.
“No, Julia- Well, I mean, yes, but…” He walks back out to the bar, flopping onto one of the tall stools.
“But what?” She smirks, returning to the bar and tapping out her ash.
“Well, I was gonna say beautiful, but I didn’t mean it like that.” Jaskier puffs, drumming his hands on the bar top, trying to find a way to put it. “Like… ohh, I sound like a fool, but he feels like a warm hearth. I just wanna curl up next to him with a book and a cup of tea and fall asleep because I feel so good around him. Safe. And don’t you go telling me he’s a stranger-” Jaskier breaks off as Julia rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to speak. “I know that! I know, and that’s what makes it so weird, Julia. But like, good weird.”
Julia hums thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side. Jaskier has been getting more self-aware as he ages, and for once, she’s inclined to believe that he remembers this guy’s a stranger. “Have you called your therapist yet?”
“For once in my life, yes. I called her before I came in. Hopefully, she’ll have gotten back to me by the time I get home.”
“Good for you. So this is why you came in here drunk off your ass this morning? This whole mess?” She pours him a shot glass of rum and passes it to him.
He takes it with a nod of thanks. “Yeah… I guess I got a little freaked out after his wife grilled me this morning, didn’t cope with it well.” Taking a sip, he frowns. “Julia, I’m in over my head. I don’t really know what to do here. He’s never had a boyfriend before.”
Letting out a low whistle between her teeth, Julia stubs out her cigarette. “Ain’t he about my age?”
“Yeah… He’s… I guess he spent his whole adult life in the military and never let himself have one. That’s what his wife said.” Jaskier worries at his lip, blue eyes wide as he shoots a glance at Julia. His glass scrapes on the bar top.
Annoyed by the sound, Julia tosses him a coaster. Then she hums thoughtfully, swirling the dregs of gin in her glass. “That’s a long time to be lonely.”
Puffing out a long, slow breath, Jaskier nods. He draws the coaster over and sticks it under his drink with a guilty look. “Yeah.” Slumping to the bar top, he puts his chin on his hands. “She said… if I cheated on him it would crush him. She said… ‘Please don’t make things worse by being irresponsible with his very fragile heart.’” Putting his face into his arms, Jaskier gives a little groan.
Julia sucks in a breath, watching Jaskier crumple in front of her. He’d at least grasped the concept of fidelity by now, but until recently his romances had never been particularly stable. Her heart goes out to him. She finds herself walking around to the other side of the bar to stand awkwardly by his side, her stocky frame only coming up to his shoulder where he sits on the stool. She awkwardly pats said shoulder, then gives it a squeeze. “That’s gotta feel pretty big to you. How are you doin’ with it?”
“I’m feeling massively intimidated, Julia. He’s gorgeous and I really want to date him, but I’m really afraid I’m going to be bad for him. I don’t exactly have the most amazing track record.”
Julia hums, sucking her teeth thoughtfully. She rubs a gentle circle between Jaskier’s shoulderblades, an unusually affectionate gesture for her. “Kiddo, you know I wouldn’t say this normally, but you’ve put a damn ton of work into your personal relationships. I trust the man you’ve grown into, and I think you should try trusting yourself for once. See how it works out for you. It’s been a long time since you let anyone in.”
Jaskier sighs, leaning into the touch. “I know. I worked so hard, and Rue didn’t even get to see much of my life after the dust settled. I hope she’s proud of me.”
A smile lights Julia’s face, but as she speaks a note of grief creeps into her voice. Her partner Rue had passed two years ago, but the pain was still fresh and hot. Rue had been more than a friend to Jaskier, she’d been his absolute favorite person. He missed her almost as dearly as Julia herself did.
“She’d be proud of you all ‘round, kiddo. You’ve really shaped up. Hell, you stepped up when I needed you.” She gives Jaskier a little shake. “You might be a dumbass, but it matters that you try to get things right. It matters more that you do your best now to fix it when you don’t. That’s all anyone can do.” Julia’s hand moves back to his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re a good man, and I think she’d tell you that, too.”
Jaskier nods, swallowing hard. As Julia’s hand closes on him he realizes all of a sudden how much he misses Rue. His heart contracts with terrible grief. “Oh!” He gasps, surprised by the abruptness of the pain. Reaching back to squeeze Julia’s hand, he can feel his throat tightening. “I feel really lost right now. She’d know what to do.”
A crack appears in Julia’s heart. She nods and steps closer to Jaskier, reaching around his hip and pulling him close. Jaskier leans into her and she grips him tightly with her strong arm. Her cheek presses against him and she squeezes her eyes shut, nodding. “Me too. I miss her like hell.” As she grips Jaskier, silent tears dampen his cheeks. Before long, Julia’s eyes begin to well over too.
Rue had been the center of both of their lives. Julia had been in love with her since they met one hot summer on Coney Island as teenagers. They had kissed in the rain under one of the piers, and that had been it for her. By the time they’d moved in together as adults, Julia would have gone down on one knee and married her in a heartbeat.
Every summer they took a long vacation on Fire Island, where Julia would pick up part time work as a bartender. They’d met Jaskier one summer there when he was just sixteen years old. He’d been a disaster of a baby queer, but gregarious little Rue had seen something of herself in him. She had taken him under her wing, and he had thrived.
When Rue was diagnosed with ovarian cancer four years ago, it had been at a quiet time in Julia’s life. Jaskier had gotten a therapist a year before and was finally out of her hair. The bar was thriving. Rue and Julia had settled into their home just the way they’d liked it, tea settees and all. Julia remembers looking at this yellow, gold, and cream-colored doily on their tea table after they got home from Rue’s diagnosis. The little sunburst pattern had seared into her mind as she sat in shock.
The following two years had been hell on a plate. The bar came closer to folding than it ever had as both Julia and Jaskier bent themselves completely out of shape trying to get Rue the care she needed. In the end, that had meant hospice and a funeral. Jaskier had ended up having to plan it for her, and he’d stepped up to the role with a seriousness that she hadn’t thought him physically capable of. It changed something about his personality. Julia watched him go almost overnight from a happy-go-lucky kid to a closed-off and responsible adult. The only exception had happened shortly after Rue’s death.
When the fuss from the funeral had died down, Jaskier had disappeared for the better part of two weeks. Scheduled everyone in, made sure payroll was cued to go properly, and just… vanished. He’d come back with a bloody lip and fear in his eyes, and Julia had been too heartsick to ask questions. That night they’d grieved Rue together, sitting next to one another and crying their eyes out. Jaskier had fallen asleep on their dinky little couch, and she’d tucked one of Rue’s crocheted blankets over him before she went to bed.
Since then Jaskier had been eerily quiet. At least, until Pride. After that his mood had been so pleasant that it was making Julia downright nervous. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, at last, it had.
Jaskier takes a few napkins out from under the bar top, passing them to Julia. They wipe their faces in sticky silence, and afterward, Julia pulls out a smoke and hands him one too. The click of her lighter is loud in the silent bar, echoing off the far walls.
“Can you imagine what she’d say about this mess?” he asks, a soft huff of laughter escaping him as he shakes his head. His wide blue eyes turn up to take in the fairy lights over the bar, the smoke twisting among them.
“Oh! I can just imagine.” Julia chuckles damply, shaking her head. “She always said you found love in the strangest places.”
Jaskier smiles crookedly. “She’s not wrong.” Smoke drifts from the cigarette between his long fingers, swirling eddies forming as it rises.
Julia nods, then blows a slow, lazy smoke ring. “She’d say… don’t listen to your heart anymore. Don’t listen to your head. You’ve heard enough from them for now. Go find someplace quiet, where the silence can slip in through the cracks of you and fill you up. Sometimes the answer slips in alongside the silence."
The damp groan of chagrin that escapes Jaskier makes Julia smile. "That's right,” he replies, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I would say, I hate silence, it makes me nervous."
Julia nods, amused. "And she would say-" Jaskier's voice joined Julia's and they finished together, "There's your problem right there."
With a damp chuckle, Jaskier shakes his hair out of his eyes and blinks away the last of his tears. “Oh lord, Julia. I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Suffer.” Julia jokes, knocking back her gin. “Suffer and die, probably.”
“Crash and burn, at the very least.” Jaskier snorts. He knocks back his glass of rum, then rises at last from the bar. He stubs out his cigarette as he rises. Then, with a soft clinking, he gathers all the glasses and takes them back to the sink to wash. A hush falls over the room, broken only by the splash of water against the metal sink.
Julia turns to watch him, leaning her elbows against the counter. Her head tips to the side as she watches Jaskier dry the dishes, then start scrubbing at the already-clean sink. He takes sanitizer and sprays it on a towel, then starts trying to evict the microscopic grit left around the base of the faucet. After a while, she stirs. “You think this guy might be it?” she asks, her eyes soft as she tips her head to look at her friend.
Jaskier looks down at the wet towel dripping in his hands. “I don’t know. I just… he’s different. I feel really different around him. I think I want to try, but I’m trying to just...” He grimaces, tossing the towel into the bin with a little too much force. “Take a minute to look before I leap.”
Julia breaks into a wry smile, hazel eyes sparkling with gentle humor. “Good for you. Does that mean I’m gonna be staying late a few more nights?”
“Could you? I could use the company.” Jaskier looks at her out of the corner of his eye, moving on to wipe the counter.
Julia scoffs, but there’s a playful note in her voice. “Fine, but you gotta cough up those kreteks you've been teasing me with. You owe me.”
“Oh! I actually have those back at my house, thank you for reminding me!" Jaskier exclaims, smacking his forehead. "I can't believe I forgot. I’ll bring them in tomorrow, I got you a whole case. They came in from Indonesia last week and I just spaced out about them what with everything else going on.”
Eyes lighting up, Julia socks Jaskier affectionately on the shoulder. “Hey! My man! That’s what I’m talking about.”
Jaskier laughs, rubbing his shoulder. “Anytime. It's the least I can do.”
Julia takes one last drag off of her cigarette, then turns to stub it out. “Listen. You want a ride home? It’s late.”
Jaskier wavers, then turns to look at the storeroom where his bike is. It’s a long ride home in the cold and dark, and he’s heartsick as all hell. It’s hard to turn her down. “Got room in your trunk for my bike?”
“Yep. No sweat. I’ll pull the car around front while you shut down.” Julia pats her pockets, making sure that her wallet, keys, and cigarettes are all in place.
By the time she’s parked in front, Jaskier is locking the door of the bar. They wordlessly wrestle the bike into the back of the car together, working with the ease of practice. In the car, Julia flips on the stereo and pops in a Patti Smith cassette. Patti’s smoky, dry voice floats through the car, twining through the bouncing and jangling guitar riffs of the opening song of the album. Oh, she looks so fine… I’m gonna uh-uh, make her mine…
They drive home in comfortable silence. Julia pulls up behind Jaskier’s car and parks. She eyes the white truck in the driveway silently, finishing her smoke as she considers it. Jaskier sits beside her, making no move to get out of the car. Finally, she stubs out her smoke and says, “Is that his?”
Jaskier nods. “Engine keeps overheating. He knows what’s wrong with it but I don’t have the tools for him to fix it, so it’s gonna stay there until I can get them for him. Honestly I don’t have the faintest idea what he wants, it all goes in my ear and then out the other. If he’d just let me take him to the store it would be fine but no-”
Putting her hand on the door, Julia eyes Jaskier kindly. “Kiddo, I don’t need every single detail. It’s his truck, I get it. Let’s go in.”
Jaskier puffs as he’s thrown off track. Then he smiles crookedly, face catching in a bar of orange light from the streetlamp outside. “Sorry. You go on in, I’ve got to bring the bike around back.”
Flourishing her keys, Julia nods. She ambles around the front of Jaskier’s house and unlocks his door, letting herself into the dark entryway. Flicking on the lights, she looks around. The place is uncannily clean and stinks of floor wax and furniture oil. Jaskier’s home usually looks a bit rumpled, like a bed that’s been slept in and then had the covers thrown back into place without being smoothed or tucked. Not dirty, precisely, but not clean. Lived in. This, though… she gives a low whistle under her teeth. Her friend had been understating the distress he’d been experiencing. His home didn’t get this tidy unless something really got under his skin.
She kicks her boots off and heads to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee going, then snags a pudding out of the fridge. As she’s digging around for a spoon, she hears the jingle of keys announcing Jaskier’s arrival through the back door.
He notes the pudding cup in her hand and the very corner of his mouth turns up, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he slips past her to drop his bag in his bedroom. When he returns to the kitchen he smiles at her, leaning against the fridge.
“Better?” she asks, tearing open the plastic lid.
“Better,” Jaskier agrees, eyes dancing with a teasing light. “Still like the taste of stolen pudding?”
“Tastes better if you swipe it,” Julia grins unrepentantly. She settles on the stool with her pudding. “Gonna cough up those kreteks?”
Jaskier grins. “You’ve got it. Just a minute, darling. I have to figure out where I put them.” He turns on his foot and bounds off to the other end of his house, rummaging around until he remembers where he stuck the package. It turns out it’s still next to the front door in plain view, hidden on a shelf by the other oddities it’s been stuck on top of. Jaskier’s house is unusually clean, but it isn’t that clean. Making a triumphant noise, he grabs it and heads back towards Julia.
Pleased, Julia opens the case up in a few quick movements and takes out a carton. She flicks it open, smelling it with great satisfaction. The rich smell of clove and tobacco wafts up to her, and she sighs in contentment. “Ah, that’s the good shit. Thanks, man.”
“You’ve got it. I’ll order more tomorrow, you deserve them. Takes them a while to import but we should be seeing them in the next month or so.”
Julia laughs. “Man, I’m earning them signing up to listen to your shit like this. Go check your message machine, I ain’t subbing in for your therapist.”
Jaskier huffs a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Fine, fine, I’ve got it.” He pours himself a cup of coffee, then ambles over to the message machine and picks up the receiver. He punches in a code and waits, then jots something down on a pad of paper next to it with a brief smile flashing across his face. He turns back to Julia, wiggling the notepad at her. “Got an appointment tomorrow before I go to work. She shoehorned me into her lunch hour.”
“Huh,” Julia grunts, amused. “Better bring that poor woman lunch, she’s a saint for taking you back like that on short notice.”
Jaskier looks chagrined. He settles himself back on a stool with his back to the refrigerator. “Yeah, you're not wrong. Best kind of saint. I thought I’d bring her Thai from that place up on Market street. You know the one with the little golden treasure bag dumpling things?”
“Man, she gets treasure bags? Do I get some?” Julia teases.
“If you come hold my hand tomorrow, you get anything you want.”
“Mm, no dice. I’m doing enough hand-holding as it is. Speaking of which, you could still bring it to me at the bar...” she grins over her mug, eyes sparkling playfully.
Jaskier rolls his eyes and sighs. “Extortionist.”
“You love me,” she snorts.
“I do,” he breaks out into a smile, leaning against the island top with his elbows. “Thanks for running me home.”
Julia shifts in her seat and sighs, leaning forward onto her elbows and giving Jaskier a frank look. “I got you, it’s no problem. It’s not every day you get blown out of the water by something like this. You gonna be ok?”
Jaskier considers his mug with a thoughtful moue, then nods. “I think I am, Julia. I’m sorry about this morning, it won’t happen again.”
Smirking, Julia shrugs. “Just do better.”
Fluffing the hair on the back of his neck, Jaskier nods. “You got it.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee, then asks, “How are you doing?” His voice is gentle as he asks the question, sensitive to the ongoing nature of her pain.
Julia shifts uneasily, squinting at her mug. “I dunno. I’m making it. Don’t wanna look for a new place yet, but I know it’s gonna be time soon.” She casts a short, hard-to-read look at Jaskier. She appreciates him asking, but she’s also not sure how much she wants to talk.
“When’s the lease up?” Jaskier asks, his eyes soft.
“Uhm…” Julia cleared her throat. “June.”
“Julia!" Jaskier gasps, exasperated. "That was over a month ago! You didn’t just sign a new one, did you? Why didn’t you talk to me first?”
“I didn’t wanna talk about it,” Julia growls, scowling.
Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t get all growly with me. You’re miserable there! Rue is all over that place, darling! I can barely turn around twice in there without bumping into something that breaks my heart, I don't know how you go and live there every day."
Julia presses her lips together, tapping her carton of kreteks between her fingers. She shrugs. "I can't imagine being anywhere else. All I have left is there."
Heart breaking a little, Jaskier sighs. He regards Julia kindly. "You can't hold on like that forever."
Scowling, Julia shrugs. That might be true, but she didn’t have to like it.
Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Jaskier looks her over for a moment. He hesitates, then says, "Why don't you just start looking? There's no harm in at least checking the paper…" he nudges her gently. "Worst that can happen is you don't fall in love with the first place you see. No harm, right?"
Julia shuffles uncomfortably, taking a big gulp of her coffee. She frowns at her cup, then looks out of the corner of her eye at Jaskier. “I can’t afford to break the lease.”
“Nonsense, you’ve got plenty of savings to cover shit like that,” Jaskier replies, still exasperated.
“Besides, even if you didn’t, I’d cover you. You know that!”
“I know…” Julia grumbles, “But-”
“So what you mean is, you’re still stuck and you’re not ready to go yet.”
Julia scowls. She wants desperately to argue with him, to lash out and protect herself, but the impulse passes before the words can even form. She shrugs. “Maybe so.”
Jaskier sighs. “Julia darling, I’m convinced there’s a place in the world for you. Somewhere that will feel good and be just for you. Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet someone soon? Stranger things have happened.”
“Stranger things can eat my ass,” Julia snaps.
Unimpressed, Jaskier shrugs. “Okay.” He pops open his pudding cup and spoons up a mouthful, sucking it off of his spoon thoughtfully. “Mm. Should you ever decide to come out of that suck-ass hedge-maze of grumpiness you’ve built for yourself I’ll be here. I love you, despite all your best efforts to turn into an unmanageable troll.”
“Oh what, and you’re Prince Charming?” Julia scoffs. “Puh-lease, you little drama queen.” They both eye each other for a moment, wavering, then break out in quiet laughter. Jaskier reaches over and pats her hand, and Julia smiles crookedly. She drains the last of her mug, then sets it down with a final-sounding ‘thunk.’ “All right, mijo. I won’t keep you talking all night. Thanks for the kreteks, I hope you work everything out. Call me if you need me.”
“I will. Same goes for you, darling. My phone is always on for you, and my door is always open. I don’t care what time it is, if you need me you come. Ok?”
Julia eyes him uncertainly, then nods. She had taken him up on the offer before, showing up at odd hours eaten alive by grief and unable to be alone with it anymore. “Ok. See you tomorrow.” She punches his shoulder affectionately, then heads for the door.
“Good night, Julia. Safe drive, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
~*~
Jaskier puts himself back together during the intervening days. He attends therapy, brings Julia her takeout, and things return to normal at the bar. Sunday morning he rides his bike, but this time he’s sober, more himself. At the end of the night, he pulls Julia to the side as she sighs in exasperation.
Jaskier gives her a sheepish smile, leaning back against one of the counters. “Sorry, I’m not going to keep you long tonight.”
“Yeah? Good, my fish are starting to worry I’m seeing someone new,” Julia cracks. “What’s up?” Her eyes travel to the closet where the bike is and back to him. “Car ok?”
“What?” He looks over his shoulder in the direction she’s indicating. “Oh! No, it’s fine. I just wanted to take a long ride tonight after work, maybe catch the sunrise out south of my house.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s Geralt. I finally decided to call him. I think I’ve got my head on straight and I still wanna do it.”
Julia sucks her teeth thoughtfully. It’s sweet to see him excited, but she worries about his heart, too. He doesn’t always guard it as carefully as he should. “You sure? From what you’re telling me, it doesn’t sound like you’re lookin’ at a walk in the park. He’s married, he’s got a family halfway across the world, he’s in the closet…”
Jaskier sighs. “I know, Julia. I was there, I remember.”
Julia arches her eyebrow at him but doesn’t comment.
Jaskier chews his lip. “I know it’s probably stupid, and I know we could break each other’s hearts, but…” he ruffles his hand through his hair. “I don’t meet men like that every day. Besides. I will definitely regret it if I don’t at least see him one more time.”
Julia rolls her eyes, but a fond smile creeps across her tawny face. “I’ll give you wanting to see him again one more time, you two really should talk. Just try not to be a dumbass, ok? Go slow. You’ve gotta take care of yourself, you’re not twenty anymore.”
The look on Jaskier’s face softens thoughtfully, and he nods. “I know. I’ll try to be good.”
“Good. Where are you planning on taking him? This doesn’t sound like public conversation material.”
“Well… that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking maybe the best place would be the bar.”
“What, don’t want to use your house?” Julia asks dryly.
“Nnnoo, uh…” Jaskier rubs the back of his neck, turning red.
“I get it.” Julia cuts him off with a quick gesture, smirking. “You wanna keep it on the up and up. Don’t you have somewhere else you could meet him though?”
“Mmm… I mean, there are some parks I could take him to, but that feels weird for a private conversation, you know?” Julia nods. Jaskier continues, “He’s staying with his wife at the hotel, and I feel like it would be rude to ask him to kick her out so we can talk. Most of my friends have these teeny apartments so I can’t exactly borrow space from them. The bar seemed like the best place.”
Julia hums, then nods. “I get it. Not like I have a porch I could offer you or anything.”
“Yeah. So…?”
Shrugging, Julia stuffs her keys into her pocket. “Go for it. Just don’t fuck all over the furniture or I’m gonna fire you,” she cracks.
Jaskier laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She might not be able to actually fire him, all joking aside, but Julia has a way of finding truly horrifying tasks to saddle him with. He isn’t about to try her and they both know it. He pushes off of the counter, then digs a faxed receipt out of his back pocket and unfolds it. “Kreteks are on the way, by the bye. Here’s the tracking number.”
Julia lights up, making grabby hands as Jaskier hands the receipt over. She scans it, then gives a satisfied smile and folds it up to stick in her wallet. “Great. All right, I’m gonna head outta here. Let me know how it goes, ok?”
“As if I’d leave you out of the loop,” Jaskier hums fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Am I gonna lose a hand if I try to hug you?”
“Yep,” Julia says with a chuckle. She reaches over and slaps Jaskier’s shoulder companionably on her way out the door. “Good night, mijo.”
“Good night, Julia. Drive safe.” Jaskier says to her retreating back, smiling. He turns away as the kitchen door swings shut and makes one last circuit of the bar. When he gets outside he closes up; there is a satisfying click as the tumblers lock into place. It has been a good night, and tomorrow is full of possibilities.
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The Raven King, Chapter 11 – WHAT THE FUCK
In which Thanksgiving happens.
Sounds good? No, it doesn’t. But it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.
I was not Ready.
I was a sweet, sweet summer child.
WHAT THE SHIT JUST HAPPENED.
I WAS NOT THE FUCK READY.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IT’S BEEN FOUR HOURS SINCE READING AND I STILL CAN’T FUCKING D E A L WITH THIS.
Alright. Hold up, hold up.
I will get to the absolute FUCKERY that is this TRAINWRECK OF A CHAPTER in a minute.
But first – shopping.
Kevin stopped sniping about the road trip when he realized he could get something out of it.
They go to Exites, which is kind of dream candy land for people with Exy boners, to get Neil a few new racquets, just because they can.
To be honest, I skimmed through most of this bit in order to get to the fuckery that was promised to me at Nicky’s house.
TLDR; Kevin is buying Neil heavier racquets in order to fulfil his quest of becoming Surpreme Exy Master. What else is new.
Also, how do you pronounce “Exites”? Exits? Exit-ee-s? Exités? Wtf is this word.
There’s one bit that got my attention, though: A prime fucking Andreil Moment for the books, right there in between the racks of Exy racquets – how fitting, considering the Hot Bod Meets Racquet Incident from when they met.
“Here’s a real question: how have you survived this long when you’re so violently self-destructive?”
Hooo boy, it’s Real Talk Time.
He wondered why no one else had caught on, or if people noticed and just didn’t care enough to say it. (…) The focus was on what a danger he was. People talked about his trial and how it saved them from Andrew. No one said what they were doing to save Andrew from himself.
But Neil :’)))))))) noticed :’)))))))) and cares :’)))))))))) ma BOYS
“When they finally take your medicine away, who are you going to hurt, really?”
Andrew laughed. “I’m remembering why I don’t like you.”
“I’m surprised you forgot.”
“I didn’t,” Andrew said. “I just got distracted for a moment there.”
Mhmm, distracted by what exactly, mon ami.
Andrew put a hand over Neil’s mouth to shut him up and said, “Liar. But that’s what makes you interesting. It’s also what makes you dangerous. I should know better by now. Maybe I’m not as smart as I thought I was. Should I be disappointed or amused?”
Seriously, all later drama aside, let’s not forget what a fucking Andreil chapter this is. Like. AM I READING THIS SHIT WITH MY OWN TWO EYES.
The answer was there, right out of reach, close enough Neil could feel it, but too far for him to make sense of. Maybe Andrew felt it too, because even in his drugged haze he knew to shut up. The smile he flashed Neil mocked them both at that near-miss.
For real AM I HALLUCINATING THIS TO GIVE ME SOMETHING NICE TO MAKE UP FOR MY INEVITABLE BREAKDOWN LATER OR???
And then Kevin and Important Exy Business comes in to ruin the moment. Shame.
They get Neil’s racquets, they pay about the price of a nice sports car for them (“If Coach has a problem with the number he can take it up with me, but he should know how expensive I am by now.”, jfc Kevin chill it with the Extra will you), and then they are finally going to the Hemmick’s place.
From the outside, the house looked perfect. The lawn and vibrant green and neatly trimmed, the cars in the driveway were new and clean, and the house was a pale blue with dark shutters.
Meaning: There are at least three bodies hidden in our basement.
Andrew gave [the racquet] an experimental twirl, judging the weight of it, then propped it against his shoulder and started for the other cars. (…)
“He’s got a really shiny car for a minister,” Andrew said. “I’m going to humble it.”
Bahahaha. I actually had to laugh at that. Please do.
Nicky does not agree with me, however, and takes the racquet from him, leaving it in the entrance hall of his parents’ house.
Speaking of: PARENTS.
Nicky’s mum can’t even tell her own nephews apart, which is just honestly a great fucking start.
“Hello, Maria. How very, very nice to see you again, I’m sure. Very interesting, you letting us back in your house and all. I thought you were going to file a restraining order against me. What happened, did you lose your nerve?”
For some reason, I dislike Andrew’s sass as much as I like Neil’s. His drugged sass, that is – nothing against a good Minyard one-liner. But I still find his mock-cheery, vicious friendliness more uncomfortable and at times even annoying than anything else.
And Nicky’s dad?
About as cool a dude as an uptight bigoted Christian minister can get.
Which is to say - not fucking cool.
Even across the room Neil could see the tense set to his shoulders (…) Neil hoped that Luther was uncomfortable because he intended to relax old prejudices.
I will bet you literally any amount that he fucking does not.
“Are you religious?”
“No,” Neil said. (…)
“Why not?”
“I’d rather not get into it,” Neil said. “I don’t want to start a fight.”
“That’s a first,” Andrew said with a laugh.
I was about so say the same damn thing. Like – Neil “Attitude Problem” Josten, Neil “Attitude Problem” Josten, Neil “Attitude Problem” Josten – doesn’t want to start a fight?
It follows the most awkward meal I’ve encountered in a long time – polite conversation, forced as shit, with pauses in between and exactly no one enjoying themselves.
Then –
“You’re going back to Germany?” Maria shot her husband a startled look.
Nicky’s jaw tightened, but he looked his mother in the eye when he said, “Yes. Erik’s career is there. I wouldn’t ask him to leave just for me, and I wouldn’t want him to, anyway. I loved living in Germany. It’s an amazing place. You should visit us sometime.”
Nicky my boy I am so proud of you. I am seriously so proud right in this very moment.
Looking your mom, who has basically kicked you out for being who you are, right in the eye and refusing to be anything other than who you are takes serious, serious guts. <3
“We cannot condone sin,” Maria said.
“You don’t have to love the sin,” Nicky said, “but you’re supposed to forgive and love the sinner. Isn’t that what faith is about?”
“Faith is about following our Lord’s creed,” Luther said.
My eyes are rolling so far back in my skull they actually hurt.
WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE LIKE THIS.
“We have committed to repairing this family.” (…)
“Enlighten us,” Andrew said. (…) “If the first step isn’t tolerance, where does a pair of bigots begin in fixing a mess like this?”
Luther met Andrew’s stare with a calm one of his own. “With reparations for past mistakes. That is why you are here.”
With these cryptic words, Luther and Andrew disappear into the kitchen after dinner for some Fun Talk Times, of which we hear exactly nothing. Then, Luther comes back – Andrew doesn’t.
And when Neil inquires after what’s taking Andrew so long – that is when I start understanding why everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE, has warned me about this chapter.
“In fact, I think it’s promising he has been gone this long. He’ll come back when he’s finished speaking with Drake.”
Neil’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”
SAME, NEIL.
FUCKING WHAT.
“This dinner was not originally our idea,” Luther said. “One of Andrew’s former foster brothers came to us for help. They parted on unfriendly terms years ago, and it’s been so long since they last spoke he’s afraid their relationship is irreparably damaged. It made us think of our own familial problems and we were inspired to reach out again.”
This was the moment I started gripping my book so tight I almost ripped it, and did not let go until the chapter was over.
Neil gets his massive racquet, gets Aaron, and gets the fuck up the stairs to find Andrew.
And Andrew he finds.
I’m not quoting anything graphic here because we all fucking know what happens and I don’t wanna make anyone read that again but WHAT THE FUCK.
WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCVK
At first I’d just thought they’d had a fight, shared a few punches, and then it HIT ME and I was SCREAMING, I HAVE NOT STOPPED SCREAMING FOR FOUR HOURS NOW WHAT THE F U C K.
And if all that wasn’t enough –
Neil saw too much blood and too much skin. He knew what he was seeing, knew what this meant, but couldn’t believe it yet. That didn’t stop him from leaping at Drake.
Aaron was faster.
AARON. FUCKING AARON.
WHAT ARE YOU THE FUCK DOING WHAT HAVE YOU DONE OH MY G O D.
THIS BOOK JUST WENT FROM ‘EDGY AND ANGSTY WITH A DASH OF IMPLIED VIOLENCE’ TO ‘ACTUALLY ILLEGALY VIOLENT AS IN FUCKING M U R D E R’ IN THE SPAN OF THREE PAGES.
WHAT
THE
FUCK
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Andrew wore only his shirt as he lay facedown on the mattress. He was covered in blood and a hundred shadows that would darken to terrible bruises. He held onto the headboard like he was glued to it, and he was laughing.
Cue the moment my heart fucking broke.
“Got quiet all of a sudden,” Andrew said, sounding surprised. (…) “Oh, oh, that’s unpleasant. I am not a fan of this at all.” (…) Andrew’s grin was wide and savage as he mocked his own pain.
Andrew. Andrew. ANDREW.
I cannot even put my feelings into words, just – ANDREW.
The strangled noise Aaron made was his best attempt at Andrew’s name. Andrew, who’d barely acknowledged Aaron’s existence in the entire time Neil had known them, looked immediately to his brother. (…)
“Andrew,” Aaron said, desperate and frightened. He held onto Andrew like he thought Andrew would disappear if he let go.
AARON. Andrew. Aaron. AARON AND ANDREW.
This is the first time I see them as brothers, not just as two people who happen to look the same. They didn’t even look the same in my head before.
Now they do, and I can picture them clear as day, sitting on a blood-splattered bed, two identical small blonde figures clinging onto each other as if their lives depend on it.
Don’t ask me if I am fucking okay. Don’t.
Andrew touched Aaron’s temple where he himself was injured as if he expected to find an identical injury there. “Did he touch you?”
HOW IS THAT YOUR MAIN PRIORITY RIGHT NOW.
I have a very, very clear idea of how that is his main priority right now. And I am NOT FCUKING LIKING IT WHAT THE SHITS.
Oh, look – the rest of the family is here.
You know what’s also here?
The fucking pinpoint moment I start going from ‘I guess I like Andrew he has cool moments and he’s an interesting character’ to ‘I LOVE THIS MURDER MANIAC KITTEN MORE THAN MYSELF AND I WANT TO PROTECT HIM ALWAYS’
“Don’t ask what. You know better. (…) Or do you still think this is a big misunderstanding? Go on, tell me again how I’m too unbalanced to understand normal brotherly love and affection. Tell me this is natural.”
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.
IS THAT WHAT HAPPENED, PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME, WHAT THE FUCK.
“Speaking of misunderstandings, am I remembering this wrong, or didn’t you promise me you would talk to Cass? You told me she wasn’t going to foster any more children after me, but apparently she’s had six more since I left juvie. (…) How many do you think were in her house when Drake was home between deployments?”
NO
NO FUCK NO, IS THIS FOR REAL WHAT!!!!!!!!! THE SHIT!!!!!!!!!!
“Now you let him into your house,” Andrew said. “You put him under the same roof as your son, as my brother. After everything I did to keep them away from each other?”
This is decidedly NOT GOING INTO A DIRECTION I’M LIKING.
They didn’t know. They didn’t know about all this shit, nobody knew, this has happened so many times before, and nobody knew, and the only person who did know, the only person Andrew opened up to, told him he had misunderstood being raped.
I am going to be fucking sick.
Andrew peeled his armbands off one at a time and dropped them into Neil’s lap.
He said something, but Neil didn’t hear him. The pale shade of scarred skin was too familiar and too startling for him not to react.
Sorry to disappoint – I’d love to be all shocked about this, except I’ve seen a billion pieces of fanart with his scars, and I also kinda had the idea myself already.
Not shocked does not mean not emotional, however. ANDREW.
A N D R E W.
The chapter is over. They’re waiting for the police and the ambulance, and the chapter is done, and I had to stuff my arm into my mouth so many times to keep me from screaming.
I have never loved Andrew more than in this very minute. Never. I am now sold on this character.
He could probably bench-press me with his attitude alone and definitely does not need my protection, but I will still protect the absolute everloving fuck out of him.
I need a moment. Or fifty.
Nicki out.
#nicki reads tfc#tfc#trk#aftg#the foxhole court#the raven cycle#all for the game#tw rape#tw violence#tw death#you guys should know these but I'm putting them on here anyways because that shit is hardcore#I'm not even adding my kofi info this time i am so SHOOK#if ya wanna you know where to find a link#Imma need a break
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March 2: Thoughts on 4x05 The Tinder Box
Finally watched 4x05. I have to say… I was anticipating that it would be bad (by which I mean uninteresting to me) based on the trailer but it was actually SO BAD that not only do I think it might be worse than even the shittiest S3 episodes, but I also think it might have tanked the whole season. And I was really optimistic and giving generally positive reviews of the season so far! But this was ATROCIOUS. I am so disillusioned and upset tbh.
Putting the rest under a cut so as not to harsh the buzz of anyone who might have liked the ep and/or not be so fatalistic about the season as I am.
Okay, a few things I liked-ish first.
I think the Raven stuff, with her brain going on overload, was interesting and I didn’t have a problem with it so much as it appeared in this episode, although it does make me wary. I’ll put the wariness below with the other ‘bad’ stuff but I will say I liked the floating sequence and I liked seeing a happy, excited, super-smart Raven even if the context was not so great.
Generally speaking, I had the least problems with the Becca’s lab story. I liked seeing more of Jackson and I thought Abby had some good moments too. Plus, while I don’t think tech-heavy sci fi of the bright white sheen variety fits this show very well, Becca’s lab was cool I will give it that.
It was a good Monty episode.
Yet again Bob Morley tragically under-used but his subtle expressions when he first suspected and later found out Octavia was alive = A+.
I’ve never had very strong feelings about Niylah since we’ve seen like 5 minutes of her before but I thought she was great in this episode and if we see more of her and more of her like this I’ll be happy. I loved how she and Clarke greeted each other this is my ideal ex-gf/ex-hookup scenario personally.
I liked seeing Clarke in doctor mode.
…That’s it lol. The rest sucked major rhino balls.
The stuff I didn’t like:
Oh where to start? I think I’ll go plot by plot.
Becca’s lab: I realize they’re somewhat constrained based on what they set up in that shitshow that was S3 but the narrative quality of the Becca story line was so poor last season—like I don’t care if the science is fake, even obviously fake, but it needs to be internally consistent and the Becca stuff was 100000% nonsense all the way down to the core, and pretty shallow and childish nonsense at that—so anything they come up with this season, whether “consistent” or retcon, is going to be side-eyed by me. The bar is VERY high for me to give a fuck and this episode didn’t meet the bar. Basically any time I hear about Becca’s lab or Becca’s experiments or Becca in space I just have this Pavlovian eye roll response because I know it’s going to be dumb; like I’ve just given up on any sense being made in this “story.”
I see you, Star Trek reference. (Okay, to be fair the concept of putting criminals on a boat and sending them away isn’t something Star Trek created and it is sort of an important detail of “Space Seed” that the criminals were super humans AND the tragic ham handed way that sci fi is dealt with here makes me think the PTB aren’t really familiar with sci fi let alone such classics as TOS BUT I’m sorry why did they have to be criminals? What sort of random detail is that? How does that make any sense? That just screams gratuitous “Space Seed” reference to me. And I put it in the negative column because I like The 100 but it’s often a mess and it’s not allowed to put its grubby paws on TOS.)
It was weird that last episode we had this big crew of people at Becca’s lab and now like half of them have disappeared. I mean, I know most of them are guest stars but, first of all Harper’s been in like every episode so far so fuck that and second of all it’s just jarring, like where the fuck did EVERYONE GO?
I’m getting pretty tired of the torture Raven Reyes show. Like it’s just literally never fucking ending.
I can’t believe they unveiled a fucking space ship and now they’re going to go into space? I’m sorry I’ve suspended a metric fuck ton of disbelief for this show but this is just beyond the pale I have rolled my eyes so far back into my head that all I can see anymore is the back of my skull.
The tinderbox: I anticipated finding this to be stupid because I am BOOOOOOOOOOORED of war stories I have literally seen 50 of them in this show alone I’m done. And there was nothing new here. Like...was this not literally the situation in 2A when Lxa’s army was ranged outside Camp Jaha? And Clarke has to negotiate to make it work? I’m not saying plots can’t be re-worked and called back to but there’s a difference between ‘we’ve shown you a similar moral problem in the past, here’s a new twist, do you still feel the same way?” and “this is literally the exact same scenario, without nuance then and without nuance now, that you’ve already watched. Let’s spend a good 50% or more of the episode on it!”
From a story telling perspective this plot suffered from two major and related flaws: First, the tension was created using Riley, a character who anyone with two brain cells to rub together should know should absolutely not be given a gun and brought to a tete-a-tete with the Ice Nation. I mean that’s just good sense. At the very least, perhaps they might have learned from previous Jasper experiences that mentally scarred people shouldn’t be armed and then set in front of their former tormentors. (Not that I blame Jasper for the Unity Day thing just saying that he has multiple times proven himself a liability for reasons very similar to the ones creating today’s Riley situation so not only is it obvious it’s a lesson they have literally learned before.) And people even note this! Repeatedly! Like 2, 3 different characters are like ‘hmmm maybe we shouldn’t given Riley a gun….?” YOU THINK SO HUH? Anyway I’m having a lot of fun mocking this but it’s just hilarious to me that not only do they write in this gigantic plot hole they have multiple characters point it out louder for the people in the back.
Second, and on a related note, there were too many main characters at stake for me to ever believe the tinder box would be lighted. Kane AND Bellamy AND Monty, plus potentially Harper and Riley (already credited in another three eps btw) and Papa Miller? Um yeah that bloodbath isn’t happening, I don’t care how long you stretch out that Bellamy/Riley/Echo scene. The result of these two issues was that there was no dramatic tension and the whole thing fell flat.
On a more personal level, while I loved Bob’s acting in the aforementioned show down with Riley and Echo it was VERY obvious to me that the point of that scene was not Riley, or Echo, or Ice Nation, or developing a theme, or developing the plot, or literally anything at all other than yet again shaming Bellamy for the massacre. I mean my fucking God Monty and Harper are given dialogue that implies Monty wasn’t part of the Pike Kill Squad (I know he joined up post-massacre but he was a Pikist let’s not forget that) and yet here Literal Male Lead Bellamy is STILL FUCKING ATONING I mean I’m bored of this. If the audience hasn’t forgiven Bellamy now they never will. Stop beating the dead horse.
And on an even more personal level… I’m sorry, I don’t like Harper, she’s yet to show a personality and this episode managed to simultaneously include a metric fuck ton of shots of her and not develop that non-personality in the slightest. I don’t think it would be clear that she and Monty were “dating” from this episode alone but I’m sure it was supposed to deepen their relationship for the viewer, yet for me it just yet again made it quite obvious that there is nothing here. This is the Emperor’s New Pairing. Why do they like each other? Why do they care about each other? I saw a million shots of Harper looking worried about Monty but that could have been any delinquent at all (except…wait…THEY’RE ALL DEAD WHOOOPS). So I just felt like it was a lot of shallow fuckery that did nothing but remind me of my hatred of this pairing without doing anything alleviate that hatred. (I’m being really incoherent here but my point is I hate Monty/Harper and I’m never going to pass up a chance to say this.)
“Ain’t we a pair?” Hilarious, but if this were fan fiction, I’d say “that’s so OOC Roan would never say that.” AND LOOK IT’S CANON AND I’M GONNA SAY THE SAME THING. ...That’s so OOC Roan would never say that.
Also I never saw anything particularly amazing about L or her leadership and it’s a little ridic that Roan is praising her now but tbh the thing that bugged me the most about that dialogue was the way he was shaming Clarke for caring about her people? I mean it’s all well and good to say you’re “tired of taking sides” (coughBellamycough) but at the end of the day literally everyone would choose their loved ones over randos, let alone their former/current enemies I mean DUH. If you can only save a few people you’ll save yourself and your family. A slightly larger handful, yourself and your community. This is just the human response to a dire situation, not Clarke’s Grand Moral Failing. Also if you think for one second L wouldn’t have chosen her people first and foremost you didn’t watch 2x16 you’re crazy. Also also what is Roan doing right at that moment but planning to kick Clarke’s people out of their own home to save his people like way to be a huge hypocrite you asshat.
The Arkadia plot: By which I mean the Arakadia explosion. Only the destruction of Mt. Weather has saddened me more. I LOVED the Ark. That was (is, in the form of the still living people) my favorite society on this show. And I don’t just like the people I like the whole aesthetic of it and now it’s gone, all gone, and I’m just like…. Was that really necessary? The need to make Nightblood the only true viable solution already exists: only fifty Arkadians saved? Several major characters not on the save list? Please, they didn’t need to do an extended reign of destruction scene to make the other solution more important.
Besides destroying a set I motherfucking loved which I’m not going to lie is my main complaint here, it also just…like we’re almost halfway through the season? This was the midseason finale? And I just feel now like every episode so far has been a giant waste of time? Like literally what have they accomplished: the peace with Azgeda is (was?) broken; a whole episode was wasted on a trip to get a piece of machinery that was destroyed and would have been useless anyway; another episode was wasted on the main characters going on a mission to find a bunker that was useless; the result was that that plot was really the catalyst for the making of the list; which was allegedly destroyed in the next episode anyway and is AGAIN useless now post-explosion; this whole episode with the extended Roan/Clarke negotiation was important for literally .2 seconds, then it becomes...wait for it...useless too--almost everything that’s been done so far is UTTERLY WITHOUT POINT because of the Alpha Station explosion… I mean I know that filler is necessary sometimes. I would say, at a conservative estimate, that 1/3 of 2A was filler. But this just… I have real complaints about the narrative structure of this show; I think it is incredibly sloppy and so many things—little things that build up—make me REALLY question the ability of JRoth/the writers to construct a narrative in even the most basic sense. It’s very, very disorientating and dissatisfying to me.
I never liked Illian and now I’m like…lol bye get outta my face. I should have seen this coming when JRoth (?) said that the killing-his-family scene was included so as not to repeat the Bellamy massacre story line mistake, by making it more clear what the motivations for the character’s bad actions are. But here’s the thing. First, Bellamy is a lead and from the protagonist society so it’s a lot more important that his motivation be clear and viewer sympathies remain with him, than in the Illian situation. It’s not that every character has to be sympathetic. It’s that main characters who the audience is supposed to consistently identify with and root for over time have to behave in understandable ways and maintain sympathy even when they behave badly. (Again—do they not get basic concepts of narration?? A legitimate question because it kinda seems like no.) Second, I will NEVER EVER IN A MILLION YEARS put my sympathy with anyone being antagonistic to the protagonist society. Yet again, a basic middle-school-level English class concept here. If some fucker steps up and destroys the people I care about I’m not going to give a fuck about his sob story. (This is different from morally ambiguous villainous characters like Dante or love-to-hate-them villains.) Third, because I actually know how technology works and I also know the back story of how ALIE got out into society, I know that Illian is just fundamentally, objectively wrong when he says “Skaikru made me kill my family.” Lol nope you’re wrong they didn’t. I understand why you think that but you’re wrong. And on a related note, because the ALIE stuff was so inconsistent and poorly constructed, I’m not super sympathetic to any “this is the consequences of ALIE” story generally because I just want to forget that bullshit entirely. So yeah basically Illian is a villain I don’t need to see him redeemed, I don’t need to see him and O hook up. I don’t give a fuck about him.
Misc. complaints: NO MILLER. NO JAHA. NO JASPER. SAD.
#the year 2017#2017: fandom thoughts#2017: the 100 s4#s4 reactions#s4 negativity#i hated this episode basically is what i'm saying in this long post#the 100 spoilers
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