#i love nile and she can do way better. it’s just not in the cards

[groovebunker]

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Hope you're starting to feel better 😊

I think (atm) it's either the bonus chapter of wwyd where cc takes fran shopping OR the holiday party chapter of the agony aunt au where cc brings a date who looks a little familiar, niles loses his mind and fran loses her temper (in a hot way). i'm also planning to write the birthday party referenced in the chanukah fic bc i can't stop thinking about it 😭

an (unedited) snippet from the bonus chapter under the read more!

Fran knew CC was wealthy. It’s not even just about her things, the expensive clothes and the frankly ridiculous Upper West Side apartment, it’s in the way she holds herself and talks, the way she commands a room the second she walks in. CC is rich beyond her wildest dreams. Which is why she shouldn't be surprised when CC guides her to the personal shopping counter at Bergdorf’s and addresses the woman there by her first name.

“Anna, I called earlier to book an appointment for Fran Fine.”

“Yes Miss Babcock, I have your dress here and I’ve already pulled some gowns in the colours you suggested. I’ll take you through.”

She leads them through to the largest dressing room Fran’s ever seen, a rail of dresses in shades of pink and red standing in one corner. She feels like she can barely afford to stand there, let alone buy anything. CC comes to stand next to her, her hand resting on Fran’s lower back.

“Is this ok, darling?”

She realises she's not really sure. It’s just the opposite of what she'd been expecting when CC had suggested taking her shopping. She’s used to a shopping trip meaning several hours browsing Loehmann’s with Val or her mother, debating how much she can afford to put on her credit card this month. She loves it, loves finding the perfect thing tucked away at the back of the store and giggling with Val as they show Sylvia a succession of hideous outfits. Once a year, around the holidays, she comes down to 5th Avenue and lets herself dream about affording this kind of thing one day. When she's not a nanny on six bucks an hour. And it's not like she was expecting CC to shop off label. But she’s treating this like it's any other Monday, as if there's not a rack of dresses in the corner which each cost more than Fran makes in a year, as if half the staff hadn't looked down their noses at Fran the second they pushed through the doors, as if Fran could ever fit in in a place like this. This is CC’s normal and Fran’s so far out of her depth that she feels a little lightheaded.

“Honey, is this really necessary? I was just gonna go to Loehmann's.”

CC leans in a little closer, gesturing for Anna to leave them alone.

“It’s not really necessary, no. But I like seeing you dressed up in beautiful things. So…indulge me?” It’s not fair, Fran thinks, the way her voice drops or the way her mouth forms the word ‘indulge’. How is she supposed to say no to that? “If there's nothing you like, we’ll go anywhere you want.”

“It’s just…so expensive.”

“Maxwell was kind enough to give me his credit card. He was just so grateful that I was taking you shopping,” she grins, “He thinks I'm going to have a terrible time.”

Fran smirks. Mr Sheffield's paid for enough of her fancy outfits. What's one more?

“Oh, does he now?”

CC unbuttons Fran’s shirt and pushes it off her shoulders, letting it fall crumpled to the floor.

“Mmm, he was so apologetic,” she undoes Fran's jeans and pushes them down over her hips, helping her step out of them and her shoes, “So sorry that I had to take time out of my day to do this. Kept saying I was doing him a huge favour.”

He clearly has no idea. Or he's a much better actor than they’ve given him credit for. Fran’s not bothered either way, because CC’s pulling her over to the rail of dresses and looking at her as if she’s sizing her up. She pulls a maroon gown down and holds it up, scrutinizing it against Fran’s skin.

“This one first, I think.”

Fran thought she loved shopping because of the search, because of the choice and the possibilities. When they got here, she couldn't understand why CC would want someone else to pick out what she should try on, what she should wear. Not that it’s not working for her, clearly, but she thinks it must suck all the fun out of getting dressed in the morning. Fran’s clothes are so much a part of who she is, she can’t fathom having anyone else choose them for her. But now CC’s helping her into another dress, this one a deep cherry red with the neckline cut across her shoulders, and it fits like a glove and CC can't stop looking at her. This is probably the 7th dress she’s put on, and she’s been watching CC get more and more flushed, less and less able to string a sentence together as she helps Fran change and then bosses her around a bit, tells her how to stand and to turn slowly so she can see her from every angle. And Fran’s starting to get it. She doesn't want a stranger picking out her clothes, although Anna has done a very good job, but CC choosing them? CC looking at her in her underwear with that slightly hard gaze, flicking through clothes and deciding what she wants to see Fran in? And then lounging back against the mirror as Fran models them for her? It’s liable to ruin both her and the ridiculously expensive dresses.

“What do you think, darling?”

[paperstorm]

10 random lines

I am LATE but I was tagged by @cinnaluminum @reyesstrand and @rmd-writes

Rules: pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or three), and share it! Then tag 10 people.

He tastes like mint. Must’ve chewed some gum or a Tic-Tac before coming over to ask TK to dance, and TK resolutely sets that information down and doesn’t pick it up again because if he has to think about there being intention in the way this man approached him, he might have to stop kissing him. Back to the habit after kicking it (911 Lone Star)

“Dude, I was born in Manhattan,” TK defends. “Lived there my whole life until three months ago. Nobody I grew up with knows how to drive, having a car on the island makes no sense unless you’re super rich or have some kind of kink for sitting in traffic for an hour to go 10 blocks.” Life's a game of inches (911 Lone Star)

Merlin seeks Arthur’s lips for a messy kiss, tilting his hips to change the angle and pushing Arthur inside just a bit deeper, rubbing, sending resplendent waves of pleasure through him. He wants so badly – aches, really – to be everything Arthur could ever need so Arthur never has to look anywhere else. Golden Hour (Merlin)

“I couldn’t remember every kiss, not 800 years of them, but I remember that one,” Joe continues, in a dreamy voice. He is more emotional than Nicky. Quicker to anger, and indignance, and ferociously protective of those he loves. His fire burns quick and hot, and when it melts into languid moments such as this, where he’s introspective and soft-hearted, it’s Nicky who aches to protect him. Nothing But a Song (The Old Guard)

Nile surprises them with her poker skills, in the evening when Joe breaks out a pack of cards and they sit around the table with an old radio on in the background. The nights were long and boring, sometimes, when she was stationed overseas, and she took a considerable amount of money off all her commanding officers in the months she was there. It’s that baby face, one of them had complained, you never think it’s lying to you until it is. Hands Battered but Hearts Survive (The Old Guard)

They struggle to pay the bills and sometimes they run out of hot water before both of them have had a chance to shower and they have to hide their love away to keep it safe from people who would want to hurt them if they knew, but despite all that, they’re happy. It aches and it aches and it aches in Bucky’s chest to think of how much he took it for granted, how many times he should have told Steve he loved him but didn’t, how likely it is that they’ll never have that again. Bucky’s not as simple as he’s been pretending. He doesn’t believe the advertisements, the campaigns that promise they’ll be gone six months and home as heroes by Christmas. That’s what they said last time, and millions never came home. Parallel Sinking Ships (MCU)

Steve sways a little on his feet as Bucky works, and Bucky sees the crash coming. Steve must have been running on sheer adrenaline since the end of their latest mission, perhaps spurred on by grief over the people he hadn’t been able to save this time and anger at himself for his perceived failings. He’d managed to get himself to Wakanda and to Bucky on nothing but leftover fumes, and they’re very quickly running out. Through the Monsoon (MCU)

“Do you want to know the moment I hated myself the most, in all this?” Nick asks. Pieces of himself, he figures. He knows better than anyone how tough it is to be so see-through. To know that despite all his best efforts, he’s utterly transparent. Maybe he can be transparent on purpose; maybe that will make Charlie feel safer in the notion of confessing. All Of These Moving Parts (Heartstopper)

Sitting here, holding TK’s arm in his hand, he feels like he can sense TK slipping away right here in front of him, filtering through his fingers like sand. No matter how he tries, Carlos can’t seem to grasp him tight enough to keep him. And maybe that’s always been the problem. Maybe he’s never known how to do that. Collateral damage (911 Lone Star)

“If we’re playing around, if we’re having fun and you want me to be a little rough that’s fine. I love that, too. Not when you’re this upset. I can’t …” He runs out of ways to explain the way that makes him feel, to imagine being rough with TK while he’s crying and using the mix of pleasure and pain to distract himself from his grief. Of him associating Carlos with hurt in a moment like this, of him believing he doesn’t deserve to be treated gently, maybe because someone died while TK was there and in the dark recesses of his mind he thinks he should be punished for that. Silent (911 Lone Star)

I'm not sure who's done this already but I will tag @musette22 @riricitaa @bubblesandroses8 @chaotictarlos @theghostofashton and @tailoredshirt

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 40 Pt 1: Kaiba Has Arrived and He’s Pissed

Woof I was gone a HOT MINUTE. Overall it was a lot of long covid fatigue problems, a lot of “wow I wrote this thing and it makes no sense because words don’t work right in my brain fog brain.” So I looked at my bro who also has long covid thinking “well maybe he’s well enough to write something” and he was like “I just put dry ramen in cold water and then set it on the stove I think I’m losing my mind.” so ehhhh not much I could really do about it other than wait it out.

So thanks for your patience, I always appreciate how low key and casual this blog is compared to literally anywhere else I post on the internet.

Last we left off, Seto had some time reflecting over a haunted eyeball, and came to the decision that he wants to kick Bakura’s ass properly and in person. So, Kaiba took a red eye flight in his Wifejet straight towards Egypt.

So he lands this thing directly in front of a museum. Not just any museum, too, THE museum from like S3 where Ishizu spooked Marik in a vault and he went “ughhh! Sis you’re so rude!!!” and then Marik leapt through one of those massive windows and into an itty bitty motorcycle side car. Seems like just yesterday that Ishizu was seething at him from that broken stained glass window while Odion slowly vroom vroomed that ridiculous Indiana Jones motorcycle into the sunset.

Bro brings up “hey, do you think they fixed that window” and I agreed that she probably just duct taped some plastic bags on it like a busted Sedan. Because if this family has like zero experience in anything, it’s any invention that lets in sunlight.

(read more under the cut)

Seriously, I thought they were dead because Bakura could so easily sneak into the vault to end the world. Figured “Wow I can’t believe the last remaining members of the Pharaoh cult freakin died offscreen while protecting their King. What a poetic way for Marik to go.” and nah, man, all three of them immediately ditched their Pharaoh the moment Yami turned around, lmaooo.

I freaking love how bad these assholes are at their one job.

And yes in the actual line of the show Seto was like “who are you?” and he very quickly played it off like a joke but we know better. The BRAIN DAMAGE on this child. Who, as you can guess is here because he want’s more Brain Damage, yes please.

So he gets right to the point, holding the Worst Orb waaaaay too close to his face.

Again, my postcovid senses are just screaming at this nasty ass germ ridden eyeball. Also I had Odion as the same font as Roland, which was an error I made before Roland became one of the most important characters on Yugioh (to me). So no, Roland is not here, although I wish he was. I just don’t have a font for Odion and I’m too tired to make one at this point.

God bless the storyboarder, that 👀 on Marik is sending me.

And so...I don’t exactly know what Ishizu’s plan is to somehow get Seto to join his friends in the Egypt hallucination. Or how Ishizu knows that things went South in the crypt when they thought he’d be fine. But, I look forward to Seto’s reaction to being in his distant past and treating that incredible display of magic with a single wet fart.

Hard to tell because Mana blends into the rock, but at some point she and the genie decided to play a game where she treats him like a trampoline and the rest of them have decided to just watch from afar. I mean I guess what else would you do at that point? Like nothing right? Like the only game they have at this point is Mancala or shoving your soul into a stone tablet and playing cards with it.

But if anything, the weird tableau gives Yami and the crew time to catch up.

(has too much long covid to check if I made basketball joke before, does not care, because it still is crazy to me that if Yugi had just played basketball none of this would have happened.)

Using her powers, Ishizu manages to spot Pharaoh talking to himself by the Nile, and so Shimon and the rest of the palace can breathe a sigh of relief.

So, Shada gathers an army of like 12 people (which I’m sure the animators mandated because of the crazy amount of crowd scenes in this season) so they can retrieve the pharaoh, brush the remnants of the Nile off of his hat, and then drive him over to Kul Elna to take back the puzzle from the rude town wizard.

Wouldn’t be Pharaoh unless he kicked his friends out of dangers way, even at the threat of losing the entire universe. off they go, on horseback even.

Part 2 you’d probably expect that we find out what Yugi and Co even decided to after they were stranded in the desert by their best friend. But we don’t. Instead, We’re gonna go to Kul Elna, and Yugi will just uh...take a nap I guess.

Anyway, I’m just gonna post this now, bro read through it, both of were like “yeah that’s a post.” At one point he had something to add, and I completely forgot what it was. I think it’s good enough! Hope you enjoyed the first post I made in like what feels like is 2 months.

As always, here’s the link to read these in chrono order

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And I’ll see you soon for part 2!

[unmeiokaemasu]

CYL 7 results reaction time!!

✨Congrats to darling Soren✨, he’s high up on my personal list of fictional characters that have moved me the most and this’s a dumb little thing that’s making me very happy :’)

1 - I have no strong feelings about Robin (and Corrin), good for them, I know they’re beloved by many

2 - Genuinely...not sure who was voting for Gullveig? Like she hasn’t...done anything yet. But ok.

4 - I do genuinely send condolences for people who wanted Felix to get a spot, he’s even in top 4, and actually he’s another character I like an awful lot. I’ve just spent so much time actually playing Three Houses I care less about 3H characters getting spotlit in FEH. But I’ll bet out of everyone he’ll hold his own next year against the new Engage characters.

9 - Azura’s the next highest up character I’d actually want to have win, but she’s already got a bunch of good alts, her winning cyl doesn’t feel urgent

12&13 - will the Askr sibs ever get their due

16 - ...yeah I do actually care about Yuri too

25&26 - I felt like Shez had a real shot at taking a top spot. Their success might bode well for the FEW twins tho? Maybe? I can dream

27 - I’d be pretty chuffed in Lyon won next year, but he’s been consistently in a spot like this

34 - Nino hangin in there, nice, nice

41 - (Bingo pick) SHOCKED this is the highest of my bingo picks on the list, but I do think Sonia’s a very well-written and compelling character, so, yay? I put her on my bingo card cuz I want a resplendent to replace the art I don’t care for, but...an alt would be cool too I guess. Morph rights?

49 - Mercy made it to top 50!

54 - Lin not doing too bad. Honestly if he were a bit higher I might vote for him...

57 - Ok I do actually have strong feelings about Ninian, I wish she were higher

79 - Pouring one out for the Scarlet stans. We just got a Fates banner that was all characters we already had, but I think this is the year Scarlet gets in.

80 - Was Desaix a meme? Did I miss something? Does this have to do with us running out of Echoes characters? Where’s Jesse??

94 - If we get Tormod we have to get Muarim, right?

95 - A not-bad Seth would be good ngl

100 - Let’s see who’s at 100...oh Sakura, cool.

104 - (Bingo pick) I think I put Stefan on my 2023 bingo card, but in retrospect I would’ve swapped him for Roland

107 - I’m still pretty fond of Henry and he doesn’t have a unit that I love to use yet

123 - (Bingo pick) Vanessa! Glad she’s even this high

128 - Again would love a Niles unit that’s actually fun to use

168 - Florina does already have a nice alt but I wouldn’t say no to another

172 - (Bingo pick) Not bad Lucius!! I might vote for him next year, just to boost his numbers, since I’m not trying to have anyone else win :’)

186 - Would REALLY like a viable unit for Kaze, wish he’d been on that new Devotion banner

194 - As much as I despise Nergal, it’s in the fun is-a-good-villain way, so I’d be pretty excited if he got in

196 - Abysskeeper meme dropping, you love to see it

199 - I like Dagr a lot, I hope she hangs in there

204 - I defo want Janaff in feh, the more bird units the better

211 - *waves at Canas*

224 - you know me I wouldn’t say no to another Naesala alt

227 - (Bingo pick) Ismaire! I want all the unrepresented moms to get in

227 - gee an alt for Cormag would be nice...

229 - Is this the year that Xane gets a base? almost certainly not

238 - (Bingo pick) if Cormag got an alt at the same time his brother gets in, that’d be pretty cool...

239 - (Bingo pick) Izana...my bingo picks are pretty low down huh

257 - (Bingo pick) Not bad for an NPC, Uther

258 - So Jesse, your thoughts on the Desaix situation?

262 - (Bingo pick) I guess this isn’t so far down for Elffin...

272 - (Bingo pick) And here’s Edain

273 - Wait Valter is lower than Cormag AND Glen??? Why did he beat Cormag in the voting gauntlet then????

274 - (Bingo pick) :( I wish Artur was higher

275 - Man Dwyer fell after getting in. That’s how it goes though.

276 - I guess that staff!Libra dream remains far off...

284 - (Bingo pick) Elena!! out of all the dead moms I want her to get in the most

285 - (Bingo pick) And not too far from Artur we have my other beloved red-haired softboi healer

285 - ...tied with my darling Limstella. I’ll probably spare them at least a vote next year since I won’t be fighting tooth and nail to have a fav take a top spot. 

294 - This is the year of a Reyson alt. I’ll just keep telling myself that.

301 - (Bingo pick) aaaand Midir not quite getting into the top 300. Oh well, could be worse...

301 - Two words: Summer Knoll. Let’s make it happen.

311 - (Bingo pick) Oh here’s Ephidel. I’ll consider it a win that Limstella’s already in feh and Eph isn’t and Limstella’s still beating him.

316 -  (Bingo pick) hi Harken

321 - Wait...why is Linus so much further down than Lloyd?? Because he’s a hothead? I thought people liked that

327 - (Bingo pick)  :( I need any Muarim that isn’t a sad fallen...

333 -  (Bingo pick) Let’s see if any of my picks are lower than Ulki...

339 & 340 - kinda weird the two unrelated Arthurs ended up so near each other

357 - Ah here’s Roland, not technically on my bingo card but only because I forgot to put him on.

362 - I’d really like a wyvern-rider Petrine, the fact that she’s on a horse in feh is kinda ridiculous

365 - Please get Saleh out of bunnysuit hell

373 - Huh, I thought Harken was so low because FE7 Karel would be beating him, but I guess not...

376 - As much as I would love to see adorable FE7 baby Guinivere, I don’t trust feh to handle that tactfully

376 - Would love Eliwood’s dad to get in

404 - I think Rafiel was higher than Reyson last year, so...good for Reyson I guess?

And then the bottom of the list is exactly what you’d expect, a bunch of detestable villains - for once no character who was just kinda tragically sidelined.

So...cool! Based on all that...Next year I’ll probably vote for Lucius and Reyson to raise their stock, since they might actually get alts, while I don’t have super high hopes for Limstella. Although, with Sonia doing this good, who knows? Maybe we could get a full morph banner? Listen I can dream.

All of that is UNLESS: 1) Ninian starts doing unexpectedly well next year or 2) Alcryst and/or Mauvier, and/or whoever I end up liking more long term from Engage, have a shot at a top spot

But it’s nice to think next year I won’t have as much stake in things. Again, wishing everyone the best, even if your fav didn’t win I hope all your favs get cool alts with strong skills and beautiful art!

[caifanes]

the tension between fans who ship booker with any/all of the immortal ladies and fans who see booker as just the emo little brother with growing pains

[astrabear]

Trick or Treat!

Happy Halloween! I drop a treat in your bag!

***********************************

They took stock of the situation. Ten dead bodies, none of whom would be missed by anyone whose feelings mattered. One old building, already well on its way to burning down. Two vehicles – one theirs, one the corpses’ – both of them too damaged by the firefight to be drivable. And the four of them, battered, bloodstained, and filthy.

Nicky took some time to reassure himself that most of the blood on Andy wasn’t hers. She wouldn’t even need any stitches. They were getting better and better at shielding her, even during clusterfucks like tonight had been. Joe wandered around, unsuccessfully trying to get a signal on his phone. Nile focused on not throwing up.

“How far are we from the safehouse?” she asked. “About ten miles?”

“We don’t need to make it all the way to the safehouse,” Andy replied. “We passed a shitty motel on the way here. We can get a couple of rooms, clean up, and leave in the morning. Call Copley, see if he can get some clothes delivered to us or something.”

“How exactly is he supposed to do that?”

Andy shrugged. If she knew how this crap worked, she’d be doing it herself. She told Copley what she needed and he managed it. It had worked so far. “The motel is what, three, maybe four miles away? We should get started.”

Joe objected. “Boss, wait. I remember that motel. That’s right on the edge of town, there are people there. We can’t go walking around looking like this.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Nile informed him. “I had friends who grew up in places like this. Just follow my lead, and act drunk.”

When they were within sight of the light commercial area around the motel, they started staggering and hanging off of each other. A pickup full of teens went past heading out of town, presumably to whatever secret location had been selected that year for drinking and partying. The kids in the truck bed had clearly already gotten started and called out cheerfully to anyone they saw. Nile whooped in response. “Wooooooooo! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!”

A middle-aged man was filling up at the gas station, and his eyes went big when he saw them. “Damn! I’ve never seen makeup that good before!”

“Thanks man!” Joe was starting to get into the spirit of things. “We looked it up on YouTube, they have everything on YouTube –“ Nicky pulled him away before he could get too deeply into character.

The desk clerk looked a little apprehensive. “Can I… help you?”

Nile stayed casual. “Yeah, we just need two rooms please. Gotta sleep off the party before we head home, you know?”

The clerk relaxed a little. “Yeah, I get it. Just fill this out please. Wow, that must have been a hell of a party.”

Joe smiled his most charming smile. “Oh, we looked like this before we got there. That’s the look we were going for. Got all the fake blood they had in stock!”

“Cool, ok.” The clerk processed their credit card and handed over the keys. He nodded toward the bowl at the end of the desk. “Hey, you want any candy? I don’t think we’ll get many more people tonight, take as much as you want.”

“Fuck yes,” Andy muttered to herself as she grabbed two large handfuls. “I fucking love Halloween.”

[seattlesea]

Lorien Legacies Characters as Things My Family and I Have Said (Part Three)

John: Am I cute

Six: Whatever makes you happy

--

Marina: Where’s my perfume?

Eight: I drank it

--

Nine: *squeezes bread* I just really felt like doing that

Five: I feel like doing that to you

--

Eight: Use your bread you fucking heathen

--

Five, tucking Maggie and Ella into bed: Night night c*nts

Maggie and Ella, in unison: REEEE

--

John: *attempts to do something but fails*

Nine: Bitch thought

John: Shut up

Six: Bitch thought

Five: Bitch thought

One: Bitch thought

Eight: Bitch thought

Adam: Bitch thought

John: I hate you guys so fucking much

--

Eight: Is eating this much cheese even healthy???

--

John: Raise your hand if you love dogs

Adam: I would but I’m eating goldfish

--

Five, on an Omegle video chat with a knocked-out Sam and Ella: They're dead

Nine, on the other end of the call: Tell them to get up

--

Six: Men are dumb. Fuck men. You know, what? To all the ladies in the chat, here's some advice.

Six: Become a lesbian

Six: Adopt a cat

Six: Plant a garden

Six: Live in a forest

Six: Destroy the patriarchy

Six: Travel the world

Six: Fuck shit up

Six: And do it with a smile and a piña colada *bites chip*

--

Marina: I was gonna wear a cute pink flower crown with my outfit but then I thought fuck that, I'm going low-key cottagecore, not Ohioan frolicker or Idahoan horse girl

--

Adam: Dude, are you high?

Sam: What? No

Sam, suddenly remembering he rode passenger while Nile smoked weed on their way home and has gotten high off second-hand smoking weed before: OH SHI-

--

Five: Why am I even up at four in the morning with chips and Mountain Dew???

Marina: I mean, it could be from insomnia rooting from your depressio-

Five: Depression? BITCH PLEASE that shit is so 2019

--

Adam's teacher: I know it's Monday, but if it's any comfort, today is the first day of the last week of April!

Adam: What the FUCK did you just say to me-

--

Eight, mimicking an old man: gEt OfF mY lAwN

Sam: *puts face in bowl and laughs*

--

Nine, knocking on the door: Let me innnnn

John, sitting against the door so Nine doesn't come in: No, I'm still mad at you

Nine: Ok ok I'm sorry, I'll pay you fifty dollars

--

Five, trying to be compassionate with Nine: Remember when we used to match hairstyles, you fuck?

--

Literally anyone: *laughs*

Eight: Giggles

--

Hannu: No sad, just ball

--

Six: fight me fight me fight me fight me fight me fight me square up square up square up sqUARE UP SQUARE U-

--

One: Can I use your headphones?

Adam: Sorry, I'm using the-

One: Shut up you dumb fuck

--

Eight, talking to himself in the mirror: Oh my god look at you in your big, baggy flannel you look sO CUTE you're adorable don't let anyone tell you differently, including you you dumb fucking insecure little bitch

--

Daniela: What would happen if a woman took penis enlargement pills?

Adam: Hey no offense but what the fuck is wrong with you?

--

John: What even goes on in your mind?

Nine: Tarot cards, money, Cotton Eye Joe on loop, applesauce, lighting a house on fire, jumping out a second-story house to see if my ankle is durable or not...

John:...

Nine: But mostly Cotton Eye Joe on loop

--

Five: Some people identify as she/her. Some people identify as he/him. Some people identify as they/them. I identifty as a fucking disappointment.

--

Marina: Hey, can I ask you a question?

Eight, naked in a bubble-filled bathtub with lit candles, a wine glass full of apple juice, and IceJJFish playing: Do I look like someone with the fucking time?

--

John: Hey, are you gay?

Adam, sitting on the ground blasting Ariana Grande with an iced almond milk latte and wearing a baggy flannel shirt: BITCH-

--

Six: *opens her online-shopping package*

Marina: Uh, those are going to make you look a little emo, aren't they?

Six, putting on her thick chain choker and leather gloves: that's the poINT-

--

Sam: *dances like a crab to the Crab Rave* Crabby Rave make pain go away

--

One: 'oH i DoNt HaVe PrOnOuNs'- what the fuck are you then, a toaster?

--

Random celebrity: Wow, fangirls are so sweet and dedicated, they really should get paid for all the promotions and hard work they do!

Six: Ok pay me then

--

Maggie, crying: All I wanted was some fucking chicky nuggies

--

Sam, walking up to Nine in public: Hey bestie-

Nine: I don't know you

Sam: Bitch-

--

Ella: I'm gonna send a celebrity a meme everyday until they reply to me

Marina: Why?

Ella: Why the fuck not?

--

Five: Yeah, I'm depressed *laughs*

John: Why'd you laugh?

Five: It's a coping mechanism

--

Maggie: I don't want a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a partner I wants the three D's

Sarah, horrified: The WHAT

Maggie: Dogs, donuts, and diamonds

--

Hannu: So there's this philosophy theory-

One: I will fucking drown you

--

Six: If you are male and you have a flat ass, don't speak to me. I need guy friends who match my level of THICKNESS

--

One: Oh my god she's so cute

Adam: She has a girlfriend

One: Sharing is caring

--

Five: If ONE MORE BITCHASS WHORE comments on my clothes and shits about how feminine I dress I swear I will be gOING TO JAIL

Five: JUST SAY YOU ARE JEALOUS YOU CAN'T WORK BOTH AND LEAVE BITCH

--

Nine: So I have this problem where I hate myself but I still think I'm better than everyone else

John:...

Nine: Like I'm trash but I'm QUALITY trash, I'm trash from the garbage bags of Louis Vuitton, I'm recyclable, reusable trash, I'm the trash no one wants to throw away

John: Um...

Nine: If Gucci made a limited-edition, 24-karat gold garbage bag, I'd be that garbage bag

--

Maggie, holding a nerf gun to Adam's head: Gimme all your fucking money

--

Sam: I don't know, I've just been feeling a little down lately

Six: No

Sam: What?

Six: That's not allowed

Sam: Wha-

Six: *smacks Sam in the face with a pillow*

--

Maggie: BESTIE. YOU ARE A BAD BITCH. DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU DIFFERENTLY. WORK IT QUEEN

The pigeon on the sidewalk:

[cantteachanoldguardnewquotes]

Does It Taste As Good As You Remember?

Read on AO3

The food Nicky was cooking smelled so good Nile could hardly stand waiting. He had asked her not to come into the kitchen because he was preparing a special dinner just for her and he wanted it to be a surprise. It smelled familiar but she couldn't put her finger on what exactly he might be making. She knew it would be delicious either way, but she did wonder what the occasion was. It wasn't her birthday or anything, she guessed Nicky just wanted to try a new American recipe for her. 

"Foods done!" Andy called. 

Nile ran down the stairs and joined everyone. 

"Oh, Nicky! I love biscuits and gravy!" Nile beamed at him. 

"I hope I've done it justice." Nicky said giving her a lopsided grin, he placed a biscuit on her plate and moved to add the gravy. 

"Wait." She said gently touching his arm. "At home we would always tear the biscuits up and then add the gravy so it mixes better." 

He passed her plate over and she ripped up the biscuit into tiny pieces, she couldn't help but smile when everyone else followed her lead. "These biscuits are perfectly flaky Nicky, they're going to taste amazing!" 

"Thank you, I hope they are." 

She took her first bite, and it was like she was home again. Like her mom had just sat she and her brother down for dinner after a long day. She could hear her mom telling her not to eat it yet, it had just come off the stove for goodness sakes, but she never listened and burned her tongue every single time. 

She tried to fight the feelings bubbling up inside her but she couldn't, the nostalgia and homesickness was too much, it had been so long since she'd heard her mother's voice or seen her brother, tears welled up in her eyes, and she tried to hide them by looking down, but she felt Nicky's hand on her shoulder and when she turned to look at him he pulled her into a hug. 

"I'm sorry, Nile, are you alright?" His voice was soft with concern.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I promise." She took a deep settling breathe. "It's really good, Nicky. Tastes just like my mom's. I've never found a recipe that could imitate it so well" 

Nicky sat back down, when she pulled away from the hug. "I'm glad I was able to get it right." 

Nile looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen you make this recipe a few times and I could tell you we're never quite satisfied with the results, and you've mentioned how this was one of your favorite meals your mom cooked, so I put two and two together." 

"But how did you get it to taste just like my mom's?" 

"I asked her for the recipe." 

"But..." 

"Nicky can get people to tell him anything if he tries hard enough." Joe explained.

"You saw spoke to her?" 

"We visited her a little while ago." Nicky answered nodding. 

Nile took another breathe before asking in a quiet voice. "How is she?" 

Nicky took her hand. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you we we're going, but she's doing well, all things considered. Your brother still lives at home with her and she's taking some painting lessons." 

Nile felt like she might tear up again. "My mom always said she wanted to take lessons one day. She loved painting with me once in a while or watching me paint and I'd ask her to pick out colors for me. I'm glad she's finally doing things like that." 

"Hopefully she can take as many art lessons as she desires since you had such a large life insurance policy." Joe grinned.

Nile frowned slightly not having any idea what he was talking about. " But I don't have a life insurance policy?" 

"You took one out just before you joined the army and made the receiver your mom. Or at least that's what we told her anyways." Andy explained.

"Wait you guys are giving my mom money? In my name?" 

"We take care of our own, Nile." Andy said gently. 

Nile couldn't hold back her tears at that. The guilt of not being able to go home or take care of her mom had been eating at her still and she had never expected this. "I'm sorry." She said wiping at her eyes. "I just.. never expected any of this, the food, the money... Thank you, seriously, thank you." 

"You are very welcome and apologies aren't necessary." Nicky said.

"You're one of us, Nile." Joe added.

"It's the least we can do." Andy shrugged. 

"Come, there will be time for tears later, let's eat before the food gets any cooler." Nicky gestured at the table.

Nile nodded and took another bite. It was the best biscuits and gravy she had ever had.

Nicky gave her a laminated recipe card later that night, written in her mother's handwriting. "It's a forgery of her handwriting but I thought you would want it all the same." He explained. 

She didn't think words could express how grateful she was, so she threw her arms around him and simply said. "Thank you Nicky, this means the world to me." 

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #67

Prompt number: 26 - “How about you trust me for once?”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: Crack

Summary: Nile takes them to Pride. 

AN: For @spookyvoidangelskeleton, thank you for always liking and reblogging my stuff. This is definitely more cracky than normal, so heads up.

“We’re going to go somewhere fun,” Nile promises, taking a left at the light. She read online that there was a good parking garage a couple of blocks away from the parade and that the walk was totally worth the price. Even though her eyes are on the road, she can feel them trading glances behind her back. “How about you guys trust me for once?”

“The last time we trusted you, we got banned,” Joe reminds her, and okay, that’s fair. But in her defense, she didn’t think Nicky would actually punch the guy!

“Wait-what?” Quynh asks, sticking her head in the middle. “Where did you guys get banned from?”

Nile pushes her head back. “Put your seatbelt on. We’re going to get pulled over, and I’m sure as hell not paying for that ticket,” Nile says, and oh god, she’s turning into her mother.

“You guys got banned from somewhere in the seven months I was exiled?” Booker asks.

“Technically, only Nicky is banned,” Joe says, turning around to grin at his husband. “He was my hero.”

“Yes, a true hero,” Andy sarcastically drawls, dodging Joe’s swat. He hits Booker instead and gets a very offended ‘hey!’ in response.

Quynh sticks her head back in the middle, and Nile sighs. If they crash, Quynh’s just going to have to suck it up and deal with the pain of healing. “I understand how you feel now. I don’t like it.”

“How I feel?”

“Yes, being out of the loop. Very annoying.”

Nile huffs, a wry smile stretching her lips. “Welcome to Initiation, it lasts a good fifty years.” Nile doesn’t have to turn around to know Quynh is scrunching her face up, the one that tells the world just how displeased she is.

“Is no one going to tell us where you guys are banned from?” Booker loudly asks, interrupting the intense bickering match between Andy and Joe.

“No!” Andy and Joe shout as one before resuming their little love spat.

Nile briefly makes eye contact with Nicky through the rearview mirror. He looks far too amused with everything going on. “Sorry, Quynh and Booker. You must be a level 8 to unlock the list of places we’re banned from,” Nile says, grinning ear to ear. “Ow! No pinching the driver, Quynh!”

“The driver was being a bitch and deserved it.”

Never let it be said that Quynh was a slow learner. That woman picked up curse words faster than a cheetah on speed.

It takes ten more minutes to pull into the garage. It’s the ten most painful minutes Nile has ever lived through. She almost turns the car around, but that would mean another fifty minutes, and she’s not strong enough for that.

“Oh! Is there some festival going on?” Joe asks as a gaggle of people walk past their car. They’re all in bright shirts that have a rainbow on them, and they’re carrying several signs as well. “I forget what it’s called, but it’s for gay people.”

Nile pulls into a spot. “Pride Parade,” Nile answers.

“Yeah! We should go after we get banned from wherever we’re going!” Suggest a haunted house once, get banned, and no one will let go of it. How was she supposed to know that Nicky’s reaction to Joe screaming would be to turn feral?

Nile turns the car off and looks at her passengers. “Surprise! We’re going to Pride!” She looks at Nicky. “Please don’t get us banned. I don’t know how that would even happen, but please don’t get us banned.”

Nicky smiles. “I can make no promises, but I will try hard not to.” That’s good enough for Nile!

“We’re not appropriately dressed,” Quynh says, watching as another group passed their car. “We need more colors.”

Nile scoffs. “I prepared, honey. Everything is in the trunk.”

By the time they get to the parade, it’s just starting. There are more than a hundred thousand people lined up on the streets, all buzzing with infectious energy, cheering on the people in the middle.

“Dykes on Bikes?” Quyhn asks, pointing to a group of women riding motorcycles. “Are there Dykes on Horses?”

Andy wraps an arm around Quynh’s waist. “People these days don’t value horses.”

“They’re wrong. But, okay.” Everyone but Nile nods in agreement.

Before this can turn into another horses-are-great rant, Nile gets their attention with a wave of her hand. “Let’s get drinks, and then we can enjoy the parade.”

“I’ll go with you. They can stay here,” Booker says, sidestepping around Joe. “They don’t get to see this very often.”

“Cool, any requests?”

“Something sweet,” Joe says.

Darn, she can’t bring a bottle of tequila back. What are they going to drink now?

“Colorful,” Nicky adds.

“Anything is fine,” Andy says, and Quynh nods.

“Alright, I can do sweet and colorful. You guys stay here; come on, Book.”

They find a frozen daiquiri bar towards the middle. It’s absolutely swamped. The ten frazzled employees are dashing around like headless chickens to fill cup after cup as fast as they can. Of course, Nile and Booker choose this one.

“Hi, what can I get you?” The cashier asks once they’re at the front.

“Six monster yards pride drinks,” Booker orders, handing over his card.

“That’ll be $134.86, thank you. Can I say, it’s very nice of you to support your daughter.”

Nile stares at the guy and then promptly bursts into laughter. Oh my god. This is definitely the best day she’s had in years. Booker is looking at the cashier like he lost his damned mind.

“I-I’m sorry, I just thought-I’ll get your drink,” the cashier says, cheeks a bright red.

“I don’t look that old,” Booker touches his face, lingering on the wrinkles on his forehead. “Do I?”

“You are old!” Nile reminds him, swatting his hand away from his face.

“Your drinks,” the cashier says, putting them all on the counter. “Thank you for stopping by, and I’m sorry again for the rude comment.”

Nile waves him off and picks up three drinks. “Thanks! Now, come on, Dad.”

The other’s eyes widen when they see them with their drinks. It’s understandable, the cups were only 48 oz, but instead of building the cups wider, they went taller.

“They didn’t have anything bigger?” Nicky asks, relieving Nile of two of the drinks. He hands one to Joe.

“They were all out of kegs,” Nile responds. “Hope it meets your colorful criteria.”

Nicky looks down at his bright, rainbow-themed drink and his lips quirk up at the corners. “I think this will do.”

“These are amazing!” Quynh exclaims, taking another sip of her drink. Almost half of it is gone already. “You gotta get more!”

“Wow,” Andy says once she swallows her first sip. “These are good.”

“Nicky and I will get the next round,” Joe pipes up, and holy crap. There are only a couple more sips left in his cup.

Have these people never drank a frozen daiquiri before? Or a spiked slushy?

“That’s fine by me,” Booker says, glaring at his drink.

“What happened to you?” Joe asks.

“He’s upset that the cashier thought he was my dad,” Nile answers.

Joe laughs with delight, letting Booker shove him. “Nicky and I are definitely going back then. Have to support local businesses, you know?”

They have a great time. Nile doesn’t think she’s ever seen them all so loose in a public setting before. Joe’s tucked neatly under Nicky’s arm, tangling his fingers with the hand he’s currently under. Andy is standing behind Quynh, both arms wrapped around her neck, chin hooked on her shoulder.

Booker and her end up going back to get the second round. The third too. Nile taps out after that, she has to drive, and she hasn’t exactly been testing her alcohol metabolism rate.

As they’re leaving, Quynh lets out a shriek and runs across the street. Several heads turn her way, and they all watch as Quynh skids to a halt in front of an animal shelter tent.

“A dog!” Joe excitedly says, jogging over to join Quynh.

“Dios,” Nicky mutters, stalking after his husband.

“We’re getting a dog,” Booker sighs and finishes the last of his drink. “There’s going to be shit everywhere.”

“You don’t think Nicky is enough?” Nile asks.

“No,” Andy answers, crossing her arms. “He’s going to fold.”

Nile turns to look at her. “Why aren’t you getting your wife?”

“She’s more than that.” Nile rolls her eyes. “But if I go over, we’re getting more than one dog.”

“You like dogs?”

“She likes pussy,” Booker says and laughs when Andy smacks his arm. “I hope they don’t get a puppy.”

“God, those things yap,” Andy takes another sip of her drink. “They better not get a small dog.”

Nile looks across the street. As Andy said, Nicky has definitely lost the argument. They’re all petting the puppies, and man, Nile really hopes she doesn’t get a million dollars. How awful that would be.

Five minutes later, Quynh and Joe come skipping back, a puppy in each of their arms. Nicky is carrying some papers as well as two leashes.

Quynh holds the puppy out to them. “This is Max, and that’s Ollie! They’re Australian Shepherds!”

Nile pets Max; she’s not a monster and looks up at Nicky. “You’re weak.”

Nicky sighs. “I know.”

[eventual-ghoste]

TOG rambling

Hello! This post has to do with Andy and some revelations at the end of Force Multiplied. Spoilers I give aren’t super specific but they’re there, and I can’t promise they won’t bite.

This is also in response to a TOG discord question I couldn’t stop thinking about, regarding Andy’s history as compared to Nicky’s, as posited by Em | salzundhonig:

But Nicky's past as a crusader and his growth from his past was well received, surely that'll be the same with Andy right?

I apologize if these ramblings sound like a rant but I swear my intentions are in the spirit of debate/discourse, and they are not an attack on any individuals.

The TL;DR is: Andy has work to do. Hopefully Hollywood and Rucka don’t fuck that up.

Feel free to check/correct/call me out if I’ve misspoke anywhere here (I realize I still have a lot to learn) but IMHO, I don’t think a semblance of Andy’s growth will be well received. Or, at least, I’m not so certain it should be because, in the comics, I genuinely don’t think Andy has grown. At the end of Force Multiplied, she still defends her actions with the “this is how I grew up” argument, and says it was “a long time ago,” and as much as I love love LOVE Andromache the Scythian for her badassery and how she’s a vision of female empowerment, I can’t help but think about how I hear those words all the time from people defending themselves against racist and/or sexist comments from so-called bygone eras.

Wanna know a sad difference between those people and our beloved Andy? They apologize for what they’ve done, or who they were. As hollow as the words will sound, however unforgivable their actions, however self-serving the apology will be— Those Asshats apologize. Comic!Andy never does, not even when confronted by Nile, an African American woman who likely descends from slaves, and has undoubtedly experienced racism and discrimination on a regular basis. It’s been thousands of years and Andy doesn’t even know how to say sorry (if she ever does, kudos to whoever finds a timestamp/panel, and let me know!). Instead, Andy buries the truth of her actions with a load of justifications to the point that she becomes self-deprecating, calling herself “vermin,” concluding she’s no better than the apathetic, selfish, evil POS they hunt. She may have spent the past millennia with TOG, trying to make things right but then—

But then she gives up. She’s tired. She resigns because she doesn’t have it in her anymore to fight the injustice she once willingly and self-servingly participated in. So, on top of being incapable of apology, Andy also doesn’t vow to do better. She doesn’t accede to change.

If there is one reason for why “The Old Guard” is a fucking absolutely shitty title, is that it refers to people who refuse to accept new ideas and progress. We are in a fandom that has four canonically queer characters, three people of color, and two female leads! Maybe the irony is intentional but damn, why is it that Andy, PROTAGONIST #1, hasn’t completely caught up with the program?

And that brings me to why I think Andy’s reckoning will not be on the same level as Nicky’s. Because as popular as Kaysanova is, neither Nicky or Joe are the main protagonists of TOG.

We don’t follow Nicky or Joe (or Booker) into scenes. The men are strictly back-at-the-ranch, supporting characters. We follow Andy or Nile (who also have the most screen time, I believe, but fact-check me). Filmically speaking, we ought to value them with a measure of precedence. Their words and actions matter the most, especially Andy’s by nature of how everyone looks to her for guidance.

So, with all that in mind: How does one reconcile a beloved protagonist with a despicable past in slavery, of all things? In the wake of an international racial reckoning, how is a celebrated, white South African actress going to fulfill that role? How is production going to balance fantasy with reality? How are Rucka and other involved writers (Theron, Prince-Bythewood?) going to alter the original IP, while retaining the nuance of this moral quandry?

Forgive me for the overkill but: How is it going to happen?

I’m well aware that my thoughts are going down a rabbit hole, and I am definitely overthinking this, but as somebody who’s genuinely curious about whether Victoria Mahoney and the rest of the TOG crew will have the guts to confront the issue head-on, or if they’ll take the easy way out. Excise the bits that no one wants to talk about, much less watch in a feel-good film that TOG has become for many fans.

Whatever production ends up doing, I hope that 2O2G doesn’t end on a cliffhanging “pity Andromache” note because, damn, I’m gonna feel real uncomfortable scrolling through fandom posts, reading people defending slavery and giving the same “the past is a foreign country; they do things differently there” spiel, in order to protect a fictional character played by a conventionally-attractive cis heterosexual white woman.

(Also: If the past is so different from the present, why are there still calls for social justice? Why do ALL industries still lack diverse and equitable representation?)

Now, this is where I’ll go back to the original question and say: While I think Nicky functions well as an example for change/growth/redemption, I don’t think his change serves as a good comparison to Andy’s. I say this, even while I’m aware of double standards in gender, and even between the reception of gay characters vs lesbian characters vs etc. (re: I’m open to critique).

My line of thought stems from the fact that, canonically, Nicky always had Joe. The two have seemingly been inseparable from the moment they first killed each other. It’s likely that Joe would check Nicky whenever he said or did something wrong and offensive, and perhaps this symbiosis was mutual.

(I also have a feeling that many people easily disregarded the Christian/Muslim conflict because A) lack of knowledge in BOTH religions and B) the onscreen couple appear very much in love, especially when one is giving a beautiful monologue on the nature of their relationship. When we meet Joe and Nicky, we meet them at their best. Shout-out to interfaith couples who know more about this than my single (and secular) ass does, and might have more to say about this.)

On the other hand: Andy never had someone who was like how Joe was for Nicky. No one ever calls out Andy because A) she’s the oldest, B) she’s the lead, and C) her business card says ANDROMACHE OF SCYTHIA, WAR GOD. Yeah, she had Quynh/Noriko but— at the risk of yelling at Rucka for vilifying a queer woman of color (or praising him for not leaning on the stereotype of Asian passivity? idk, anyone got thoughts on this?)— Noriko is clearly not encouraging good behavior. Neither will Quynh if Netflix lets 2O2G be as faithful to the comics as TOG1 was.

Which means the Law 282 conversation might be…unavoidable? Somewhere along the line, we still end up in the hotel room with Andy, on the floor, pleading for her crew to not abandon her, even though she is the one who abandoned their cause.

This sets up a circumstance in which Fade Away might be spent trying to redeem Andy/Charlize Theron, bring her back to the “good side,” teaching her to be better— thereby highlighting her experience and “salvation,” rather than making a point of her past, and the reality of her actions. In other words, a “pity the white woman” fest.

(Because I’m crossing my fingers that TOG production/Netflix know better) In an effort to prevent that from happening, I wonder if Rucka will combine Force Multiplied with Fade Away for the 2O2G script. Given the series’ track record, I think it is feasible that FA’s release coincides with 2O2G’s, and that it finally resolves Andy. Whether by revitalizing her energy as a do-some-gooder, or finalizing her vulnerability by putting her 6,000 years to rest, thus handing off the reigns to Nile and a new generation of leadership.

The last thing I want to leave off with is: I don’t hate Andy. It’s a credit to Rucka and fellow writers (from film and fandom) that I don’t.

I might not love her character as enthusiastically as I used to, but that doesn’t mean I’m not amazed by her creation. She’s a female lead whose sexuality is not exploited by the male gaze; whose emotional vulnerability is not considered a hindrance to, nor an explanation for, her battle prowess; and whose unabashed queerness is not reinforced by cookie cutter stereotypes. Andromache the Scythian is AMAZING.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to excuse or ignore her most glaring and contemptible flaw. More than anything, I’d love to sweep her past under the carpet so that 2O2G can be problem-free. Like many people, I just want to enjoy a movie without getting triggered.

I want to see Quynh and Andy kiss and make up. I want to see Joe rocking Those Shorts, and a cheeky shot of Nicky appreciating his ass. I want to see Nile welcoming Booker back to the family again. Some form of group therapy would be chef’s kiss.

But something about glossing over/removing slavery from Andy’s narrative reeks of dishonesty, and reminds me that the (Hollywood) movie industry is full of people who do not want to be tainted with negative perceptions. Understandably, appearances are their livelihood— but that particular truth is something they still have to reckon with.

[caffeinatedbraincell]

A TOG fic inspired by this post by @fangirlshrewt97

Read on AO3

Joe walked into the front room and collapsed unceremoniously onto a dining chair. He propped his head up on his hands, carding through his still-damp hair to undo any tangles. Andy looked up from where she was haphazardly reclined on the couch.

“Get all the blood out okay?”

“Mhm,” Joe replied quietly. “There really wasn’t much. The poker rod was still hot, so it cauterized the wound almost instantly. Clean kill.”

In the kitchen, Nicky slammed a saucepan onto the stovetop with much more force than necessary. Joe flinched.

“You’ve really done it this time,” Andy confirmed, nonchalantly flipping through an old magazine. “Couldn’t have waited two minutes until Nile showed, huh?”

“Not you, too,” Joe groaned. Andy raised an eyebrow. “Alright, fine. I admit it. I fucked up. But I wasn’t thinking clearly. There were children in there, Andy! What was I supposed to do?”

Joe didn’t think it was possible to empty out a packet of pasta angrily, but there was really no other way to describe the aggression with which the rotini clattered into the empty pot. Nicky whirled around to add in the water, muttering under his breath.

“...idiota egoista…”

“Nicky, my love!” Joe called.

“What are you doing??” Andy hissed. “Can’t you tell he’s-”

“Amore mio, can I please get a glass of water?”

If looks could kill, Joe would surely be recovering from his second death of the day. Nicky shut off the tap, dug a glass out the dishwasher, and stalked deeper into the kitchen, out of Joe’s line of sight. He and Andy exchanged puzzled glances.

Moments later, Nicky reemerged. In his hand, he carried a glass full of ice cubes. He calmly set it down in front of Joe.

“Wait.”

Andy tactfully kept a straight face until Nicky had returned to the kitchen, but when Joe turned, she was shaking with laughter, hand clamped tightly to her mouth. Joe glared at her before sighing.

“It was worth a shot.”

Andy took a deep breath to sober up. “He is not truly angry with you, Joe,” she began. “You know this. He is hurt. He is scared. Give him time.”

“I didn’t mean to die. I miscalculated. I was so sure I would make it out of there alive.”

“The important thing is that you’re here now. Nile had your back.”

“A poker rod, Andy. How was I supposed to see that coming? I’d gotten all the kids out and disarmed the captors-”

“Disarmed?” Nicky spat with a harsh laugh, carrying a set of plates to the dining table. “It would have been too much for your noble, large-hearted sensibilities to kill them like they deserved, right?”

Just then, Nile walked into the room, holding up an old woolen jacket with a brass zipper. It was one Joe had scored during a Christmas sale in Ireland several decades ago. Before Booker’s exile, it had been a tradition of sorts for everyone to fight over it when staying in safehouses without heating.

“Joe?” she asked. “Can I wear this? It’s cold here.”

“Of course, Nile.”

“You know,” Andy interjected. “I think Nile and I can take over dinner prep. Being near the stove will warm her up.” Nicky drew a breath to protest. “My alfredo sauce is better than your marinara, Nicky, so don’t even start.”

Nicky clamped his mouth shut. Andy’s alfredo did sound good.

“Fine. I am going to rest. Alone.”

Nicky strode past the dining table without so much as a second glance, weaving up the stairs to the bedroom that he and Joe usually shared. Joe lowered his eyes.

“Well?” Andy demanded.

“Well, what?” Joe snapped. She narrowed her eyes. “Andy, I can’t talk to him right now. He’s so angry. I’ll just make him more mad.”

“You have known each other, loved each other, for over 900 years. Do you really think he’s up there fuming at you? Is that what your heart feels?”

Joe didn’t answer.

“Who are you really hurting by staying down here, Joe?”

Nicky, Joe’s brain supplied helpfully. He stood up. “Okay. Fine. I’m going.”

The bedroom door was open just a crack when he reached it. Joe entered, shuffling his feet and latching the door noisily behind him so as to not startle Nicky with his presence.

The love of his life sat on the far edge of their bed, facing the balcony. An eerie stillness had settled over Nicky’s body. Joe couldn’t even be sure he was breathing. He walked over to him, carefully keeping his gaze averted to avoid the coldness in Nicky’s eyes.

Joe knelt on the floor between Nicky’s legs. He reached for his hands, exhaling in relief when the latter did not pull away. Joe reverently dropped his lips to Nicky’s knuckles. He kissed them gently, repeatedly, the harsh, residual taste of gunpowder from the sniper kit assaulting his senses.

Nicky didn’t speak, didn’t move, and Joe didn’t dare raise his eyes to his beloved’s face. Instead, he pressed his nose against Nicky’s warm hands.

“Perdonami, Nicolo. Perdonami, per favore. I should not have gone in without backup. Mi dispiace amore, please Nicky. Perdonami, my life. You are right to be angry, but I-” Joe stopped, feeling tears well up in the corners of his eyes. Nicky didn’t move. “Per favore, Nicolo,” he tried, voice cracking. “Why do you test my courage with your silence? Say something, amore mio. I long to hear your voice, be it in anger or forgiveness. I-”

A single drop of water landed on Joe’s nose, and he jerked his gaze up in shock. Nicky turned away immediately, extracting one of his hands from Joe’s grip to swipe roughly at his eyes.

“Nicolo.”

“Don’t.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” 

Nicky’s hand found the back of Joe’s head, tenderly massaging the base of his skull. Like a magnet, his fingers settled over the exact spot the poker rod had entered Joe’s head. There was no scar, Joe knew. No detectable sign to give away the location of the injury. But Nicky could feel it as surely as Joe could, as though it was his own body that had been struck. Joe shivered. The idea that Nicky experienced his death so somatically was deeply upsetting.

“Perdonami,” Joe begged.

“There is nothing to forgive, hayati. I am not angry at you.”

Joe glanced up in surprise. Nicky held his gaze, but he looked troubled.

“But I am angry, Yusuf. So, so angry. At myself, for not protecting you. I watched through the sniper scope as you were killed and I did nothing. I am angry at fate, at God, for this conditional immortality. I have seen you die 259 times and it has never once gotten even the tiniest bit easier.

“You follow your heart, Joe, and it does not mislead you. I know you did what was best for those kids. Of course, of course it’s not your fault that you were killed, my love. I am so sorry for ever implying that.”

“Nicky-”

“It hurts, Yusuf. This anger hurts. This fear hurts. It becomes too much, it spills over, and I take it out on you without meaning to.” Nicky leaned down and pressed his forehead against his beloved’s, his breath warm and familiar on Joe’s face. “Without you, I have nothing. I am nothing.”

Joe whimpered in protest, tilting his mouth up to reach Nicky’s. “You are everything.”

Nicky captured his lips in a searing kiss, and Joe tasted salt, causing his own eyes to sting anew. He wanted to plead with Nicky not to cry, because everything was fine, and nothing in the world was worth his tears. But his husband only tightened his hand in Joe’s curls, pressing more fully into his mouth, and Joe found himself much too far gone for words.

Eventually, Joe turned his face to the side, light-headed from the lack of oxygen. Nicky braced a hand against Joe's hip, pulling him off his knees and onto Nicky’s lap. Joe went willingly, burying his face in Nicky’s neck and breathing him in, relaxing under his soothing touch.

“I’m sorry I gave you ice instead of water.”

Joe chuckled wetly, holding on tighter to the love of his life. “I wasn’t actually thirsty. I just wanted you to talk to me.”

Nicky pressed a long kiss to his temple. “I am sorry for pushing you away.” He pulled back ever so slightly, carding a hand through Joe’s curls and watching his eyelids flutter closed. “But you still came to me. Did Andy send you up here?”

“Mhm. She said you weren’t really mad. That you needed me and I’d be hurting you if I stayed away.”

“That woman knows too much,” Nicolo smiled.

“Comes of being an eternal goddess. She could very well be omniscient.”

Joe let his head fall against Nicky’s chest, the rhythmic rise and fall lulling him to the edge of sleep. Nicky let him doze for a few minutes before speaking softly.

“My heart. How are you feeling? More sleepy or more hungry?”

“H’ngry,” Joe mumbled, half-asleep. He felt Nicky’s lips curve up in amusement as they brushed his forehead.

“Okay. Let’s go downstairs. Andy and Nile might be waiting for us.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Yusuf.”

[youneedasoultraveller]

Is Nicky the only one headcanoned by people as bad with languages or are Nile and Booker seen the same way too (Andy is of course excluded from that due to her age and Joe is universally depicted as skilled with languages) ? I would expect Nile to be seen as bad with languages due to the American education system but it doesn’t seem to be the case.

Hello! Post-response me would like to apologise once again for the length of this post :(

I have personally not found a single fic where either Booker or Nile were depicted bad with languages; at most I found fics where Nile cannot speak languages other than English yet and you have the rest of the Guard routinely teaching her this and that idiom.

So, no, in my experience the only one that I saw people actively headcanon as bad at languages is Nicolò. Even though exactly as you point our if we want to go by stereotypes the one that should have been hc’d as such should have been Nile precisely because the large majority of Anglos are monolingual and the way languages are taught in their educational systems is horrendous to say the least (I will never forget my experiences studying Arabic in a Canadian university).

As it stands, Nile is shown using a couple of words of Pashtu, and if I remember correctly it is mentioned that she speaks Spanish in her presentation card, but if it’s the average American knowledge of Spanish “mi casa es su casa” then I would not call that speaking it. But these are just suppositions :)

So canon doesn’t give us much, that we know. And this is where headcanons come in. Like I was saying, usually people would not write Nile as multilingual but as someone who is in the process of learning several languages.

No one is indicated that she is bad at it, although if you ask pratically anyone in the world they will tell you that Americans and Brits are the worst at both learning and speaking other languages, because in those cultures there is a deep imperialist bias engrained – whether they are aware or not – that everyone in the world speaks English, so they can spare the effort to try to pronounce properly another language, or, God forbid, learn it at all. Nothing indicates us that Nile butchers or not other languages, and no one ever takes it into account.

As for Booker, he is French so normally Anglos would have also made fun of his way of talking if it had not been for Matthias.

And now I reach my point. The main reason why Nicolò is consistently depicted as terrible at languages is because of Luca’s Italian accent, and the fact that you can see he is not as fluent in English as Marwan and Matthias are, who are like him not native speakers. This even though the man speaks five languages.

I am not going into the whole mess with interviews with native English speakers who treated him as if he were dumb just because he could not really understand their accent (I myself often have to slow down and ask for a repeat, because some accents are just not as immediately intelligible as Anglos think), given that it has been discussed at length.

The only thing I want to stress is how this headcanon is extremely imperialistic, condescending and plays once again into the harmful stereotype of the dumb, illiterate Southerner.

Linguistic discrimination is a thing, and it’s a thing everywhere. By linguistic discrimination I don’t just mean that against people who cannot speak a major language (or the “official” language of the country they are in), but it also affects accents.Accents have everything to do with geography and class: it is a marker of where you are from, and plays into prejudices linked to the social standing and the class usually associated to that accent. Now, languages are a natural process, in continuous evolution and adaptation, whereas standardised languages (including a standardised pronunciation) are artificial choices. Just think of British vs American English: they are both theoretically the same language, but they diverge in several instances in terms of both vocabulary and pronunciation.Whip this up to the max when it comes to speaking a language that is not your own. The sounds and grammar structures of your mother tongue have an impact on the way you process a different language. That’s why it’s difficult for Spanish-speakers to pronounce S + consonant at the beginning of a word, or why Slavic languages have a harder H sound (again at the beginning of a word). Even when you have the grammar and pronunciation down to a T and are virtually indistinguishable from a native speaker, it does not mean that people who lose their accents and speak like a BBC tv host are any better at languages than people whose accent is still noticeable, or whose speech flow may be slower.

Having an accent does not qualify the level of fluency in a set language. Not speaking like a dictionary does not qualify the level of your intelligence (and I cannot believe I have to even say that).

And yet having an accent is politicised for classist and racist purposes. If someone does not blend in 100% with the majority, it means that something is lacking in them: usually it means they do not have the same level of education, which means they probably come from a lower class, or that they also are foreigners. So they are less than, just because their speech is deemed as not up to par with that of the majority.

@lucyclairedelune meant this when she brought up the example of Gloria from Modern Family, saying “you don’t know how intelligent I am in Spanish”. I want to make an example that is closer to my heart. Elena Ferrante in her wondrous Neapolitan Quartet described the life of a girl who was trying to escape from the material and psychological misery of the slums of Naples in the 60s. To do so she migrates North to study at one of Italy’s most prestigious university: here, however, she is bullied for her accent that clearly marks her origins and (prejudicially, since people of the South were in general poorer) status, class, and, finally, categorises her as less intelligent. Just because of her accent when speaking standard Italian. As a Southern Italian woman, I have often felt like I had to mask my own accent, both in Italy and abroad, to be taken seriously. This regardless of my academic qualifications or how many languages I speak. 

When people describe Nicolò as bad at languages simply because Luca has an accent and speaks English slower and less fluently than his co-stars, this is the context that this treatment plays in. Subconsciously (or consciously) it adds to the image that a big chunk of the fandom is painting of him as dumb and ignorant. No one else. And the fact that (luckily) no one ever uses Nile’s monolingualism as a marker for being less intelligent is also because being American is still taken as the standard, as well as the fact that unfortunately Nile (like Yusuf) is going through positive discrimination by which she cannot have any complexity or flaws (starting from hardly ever acknowledging the fact that she herself was part of an invader/occupying foreign force which has bombed and killed civilians in Afghanistan, and was in the midst of a military operation exactly in this sense). 

According to that specific discourse, Nicolò is being given every single possible flaw, in order to be opposite to Yusuf. Again, because this fandom, with its Anglocentrism and Puritan incapacity of overcoming black-and-white oppositions, cannot seem to accept that we have a beautiful interracial, interreligious same-sex couple of complex individuals, who can both be smart at the same time. I myself think that Yusuf historically is better at languages than Nicolò, as he was a merchant (and an artist), and I love this difference about them, but conflating intelligence with proficiency in one single language (because it’s only proficiency English that we have been discussing, let’s be honest, if the show had been shot in German we would not be talking about Luca’s issues with the language probably) is an utterly imperialistic, condescending and ridiculous thing to do.

I probably lost the train of my thought (and I had two beers in the meantime, so I am too tired to reread), but what I mainly wanted to highlight is that this mocking attitude towards Nicolò is rooted in both a  wider downgrading trend of his character, and on a general approach towards non-English speakers that Anglos have virtually everywhere.

[caitlesshea]

if you close your eyes

Happy (1 day) early birthday @themoonwhenimlost! I promised a Coffee Shop AU with a happy ending, so the happy ending will be posted on your actual birthday. Sorry not sorry? I love you!

Chapter 1/2

“Will you stop?” 

Joe pauses his attempt at pacing a hole in the floor to glare at Booker.

“You’re just going to keep working yourself into a frenzy.” Booker tsks at him.

“I’m nervous.”

“You’ve done this before.” Booker points out unhelpfully.

And the thing is, is that Joe knows he has. He’s nine hundred and fifty four years old, and he died his first death nine hundred and twenty one years ago, leaving him forever thirty three. 

His first death. Stabbed by a long sword at the hands of one Nicolò di Genova, but not before Joe was able to stab him first. Only, Joe gasped awake and Nicolò stayed dead.

Or so he thought. Thirty years practically to the day he sees Nicolò looking every bit the same, minus the ridiculous chain mail, working in Cairo. 

At first he thought that Nicolò had survived that fateful day, like Joe had, but over time he came to realize that wasn’t the case. This Nicolò was not from Genova, even though his family hailed from there. He was born thirty years earlier. 

Over the years they traveled together, became lovers, and when Nicolò had started to age, Joe told him his secret. 

After his Nicolò passed, it became clear that history was repeating itself. 

Ever since that second meeting, Joe will meet Nicolò one way or another, spend however long they have together in that lifetime, and then thirty years after he inevitably loses Nicolò, he’ll find him again. 

Nicolò isn’t always the same. He’ll have different hair, different styles, even different names. But he always looks at Joe like he’s the sun. 

Joe gets to fall in love with every version of Nicolò he meets. 

Nicolò never remembers Joe or the lifetimes they’ve lived. Something Joe has spent his long life cursing the universe for. 

Now, he’s pacing his apartment floor, thirty years after he last lost Nicolò to old age. He never knows why he gets an inkling to do something or go somewhere a year or two before the thirty years is up, but he always follows his gut and does what his heart tells him. 

This time he knew he needed to be a university professor. Booker ever so kindly forging documents for him and now that he’s been at the university for two years he’s getting anxious. 

With technology how it is he knows he could’ve looked up Nicolò. He knows he’ll have some variation of the name he had all those years ago when Joe was still Yusuf and Nicolò was still Nicolò. 

But, he doesn’t want to. Well, that’s not true. But he feels like that’s cheating destiny. 

So far they’ve always met organically. Joe never seeks him out and once he gets comfortable enough to let his guard down and share their past with Nicolò it always goes over as smoothly as it can. 

“Too many times.” Joe answers Booker solemnly. 

“Joe.” 

“No. No, I’m being melancholic.” 

Booker snorts but then softens. “Hey.” Booker stands and grabs Joe’s shoulders. “This is always the worst part but once you meet it’s like he never left.”

“I know. I know.” The thing is Joe does know. Even though Joe always goes through thirty year periods without Nicolò he always gets him back. 

Reincarnation. 

Or, that’s what Copley, Booker’s husband, had called it when he first became immortal and joined their family. 

“Alright enough of this.” Booker walks over to the front door to put on his shoes. “I want coffee, we’re getting coffee.”

“I have coffee here.” Joe mutters weakly as he puts on his own shoes. 

“I want to try that new place on Charlie.”

“Cup of Joe?” Joe groans even as he says it. He hates coffee shops close to the university because he always seems to run into students. 

“Yes that one! I like the name.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Love you too, mon chéri.”

Joe laughs as Booker blows him a kiss as they make their way to the coffee shop. 

“I’m telling James you said that.”

“You wound me, Yusuf.”

“You’ll get over it.” Joe mumbles as he pushes open the door to the coffee shop with an entirely un-unique name. 

He’s about to let Booker walk in first when he turns and runs into someone. The moment they touch Joe knows it’s Nicolò.

Joe’s breath catches and they lock eyes, only Nicolò doesn’t have the usual look of wonder when they meet, no. This time he’s scowling. 

“Scusi.” Nicolò looks at him and scurries away but not before shooting a glare back at Joe. 

Booker shrugs and a woman wearing an apron behind the counter quickly apologizes for Nicolò’s behavior.

“Sorry. Nicky’s not normally so rude to customers.” The woman glares at Nicky and Joe smiles at the name. 

Nicky. 

He’s never gone by Nicky before but Joe immediately loves it. 

“It’s alright. Maybe he didn’t see me.”

Booker snorts and Joe elbows him in the side. 

“Maybe.” The woman looks at Nicky and turns back to them. “I’m Nile, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a large soy chai with extra whip cream.” Booker cuts in and Joe rolls his eyes at his drink choice. 

“I’ll take a coffee please, two sugars.” Joe says and Booker elbows him now and points to a sign.

First coffee is free for customers named Joe.

“Oh! Free coffee?”

“Is your name Joe?” Nile asks as she pulls out two punch cards for them.

“Yes.” Joe answers at the same time Nicky says, “That’s not his name.”

“Nicky.” Nile hisses and turns around. “Frankie! Come get your boy.” 

Another woman comes out from the back of the counter and takes one look at everyone and then grabs Nicky who starts muttering something that suspiciously sounds like his name is Yusuf in Italian.

Joe's staring stock still and Booker’s looking at him like he’s worried Joe’s going to start freaking out. 

“I am so sorry. Coffee’s on the house. I promise he is not like this.”

Nile’s worried voice breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“It’s okay. I’m a professor at the university so my real name is in my bio. It’s Joseph.”

“Presumably most people named Joe have a full name.” Nile mumbles and looks back to where Frankie is forcing Nicky to sit down. 

“Anything else?” Nile asks as Joe stares at the bakery case. 

“No thanks.” Joe answers and they take their coffees to go.

“That was weird.” Booker mutters when they get outside. 

“You think?” Joe scrubs a hand over his face. “He’s never been hostile towards me.”

“Except the first time.” Booker points out unhelpfully. 

Joe glares at him.

“C’mon, we’ll come back tomorrow after your class. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood.”

~~~

Turns out, Nicky is not in a better mood when they head back to Cup of Joe.

Nile shoves him into the back as they order and Joe’s heart sinks. 

Booker looks like he’s about to say something when Joe spots baklava in the bakery case. 

“Baklava?” 

“Oh yes. Nicky loves it, loves to travel, so he bakes different versions from around the world. If you put in some money and guess the ingredients we’ll give you one on the house.”

Joe looks up at a sign that says:

Place your bets!

Booker snorts and Joe is transported to the last time Booker and Nicolò bet five hundred dollars on Andy guessing the flavors of an Eastern Turkey baklava.

Joe can hear Nicolò’s voice in his head. 

“Five hundred, Booker?” 

Joe turns to look at Booker and can tell he’s reliving the same memory. 

“Alright, five dollars Joe can guess that one.” Booker points to one on the top shelf and places a five dollar bill in the bowl.

“Okay!” Nile scoops up the baklava and hands it to Joe on some parchment. Before he takes a bite, Nile's yelling for Nicky and Frankie.

“Nicky! Frankie! We’ve got a guesser!” 

A crash sounds and then giggling and Joe’s breath catches at the sound of Nicky’s laughter.

“Honestly, introduce my wife to my best friend once.” Nile mumbles and Joe chuckles. 

He understands that sentiment, the first time he introduced Nicolò to Andy, Quynh, and Booker, and every time thereafter, they’ve all become fast friends.

“Who’s guessing?” Nicky asks and then pauses when his eyes lock with Joe’s.

Nicky turns away too quickly for Joe to notice anything so he decides to take a bite of the baklava and moans at the flavor.

“Mmm. Hazelnut, not walnut.” Joe takes a bite as Booker starts counting the ingredients off on his fingers. Nile smiles at him.

“Black Sea.” Joe smiles and takes another bite. “Rose water, pomegranate.”

Joe can see Nicky tensing and Joe takes another bite.

“Mmm. Eastern Turkey.” 

Joe opens his eyes in time to see Nile clapping and Booker smirking. 

But Joe only has eyes for Nicky, who’s covering his face in his hands as he turns and heads back behind the counter. Frankie pats Nicky on the back and looks at Joe and Booker.

“You’re the first one to guess that flavor profile.” Then she turns on her heels to find Nicky.

“That was amazing!” Nile’s still smiling and Joe shrugs. 

The flavors are familiar because it’s the last piece of baklava they bought Andy together, on their last trip to Turkey, the one Nicky bet Booker on.

Booker shrugs at him and orders another coffee.

“Do you want your free pastry now or rain check?”

Joe thinks about it for a moment. “Rain check.” 

Nile nods and pulls off a coupon from a little booklet and hands Joe a coffee. He thanks her for both as he wanders over to the wall of books and smiles at the little stand to drop off used books. 

“This was Nicky’s idea.” Nile says as she comes up beside him.

“The books?” Nicolò always did love books. Joe smiles at the warm memories.

“Mm. My wife and I wanted to open a coffee shop, and Nicky agreed to partner with us if he could bake and bring his books.”

Joe feels warm all over at the very Nicolò like thing that was to do. Nicolò was always reading and feeding people.

“These are his?” Joe looks over at the books.

“Some of them, yes. He thinks they should be shared with the world, which is why if you leave a book.” Nile points to the stand. “You can take a book.” 

“I love that.” Joe says honestly.

“So did we.” The bell at the front door jingles to indicate a new customer and Nile smiles as she goes to help them.

“How very Nicolò.” Booker mutters as he walks up to the books.

“I know.” Joe stops suddenly when he sees them. 

His books. His poetry. Nine of them, the very first volume One Thousand Sixty Nine is the only one missing. 

“Joe.”

“He has my poetry books.” Joe whispers, looking at the volumes, all written under various cover names. Except the first one. Which hasn’t been in print for a long time, the remaining copies sitting in a trunk at his house. 

“He has good taste.” Booker tries to joke but Joe isn’t convinced. 

“He’s never.” Joe shakes his head. “He’s never had any of my things before.” 

Booker turns back to look at where Nile and Nicky are whispering with a look of great concentration on his face. 

“What?” Joe snaps and then immediately apologizes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. C’mon, you can come back tomorrow.”

“I don’t…”

“Joe.” Booker grabs his shoulders after they get outside. “I know this is different but when has any of this ever made sense?”

“No, you’re right.”

“I usually am.” Booker says smugly as Joe rolls his eyes.

“Don’t push it.” 

~~~

Joe changes up his tactics the next day, heading to Cup of Joe without Booker. 

He’s waited thirty years to see his Nicolò, hopefully he can manage a single conversation with Nicky that doesn’t involve glaring. 

No such luck. 

“Morning Nicky.” Joe says brightly and Nicky, ever the professional, sighs with his whole body and gets Joe’s coffee. 

That he doesn’t even have to ask Joe what he likes to drink makes Joe smile.

“Did you want your free pastry?” Nicky asks him and Joe smiles at the first real words Nicky has spoken to him.

“Surprise me?” Joe smirks and some of the tension Nicky’s carrying eases. 

Nicky picks a pastry that Joe finds vaguely familiar and when Joe takes a bite he actually can’t help the moan that escapes. 

“Oh my god, this is my favorite.” Joe says around a mouthful of a desert he hasn’t had in years. His mother used to make a variation of this and Nicolò always replicated it when he would learn that fact. 

“I know...I’m glad you like it.” Nicky curses in Italian and Joe can only look at him inquisitively. 

Before Joe can say anything else another customer walks in taking Nicky’s attention. 

Joe walks over to the bookcases and discretely pulls his own book out of his bag, the first volume that Nicky’s collection is missing. He places it on the Borrow a Book shelf and turns back to speak to Nicky.

“Ci vediamo domani.” Joe waves, pleased at the look of shock on Nicky’s face. 

Joe’s about to go to class when he sees a text from Booker. 

[Book: you gave him the book didn’t you?]

[Joe: how did you know that?]

[Joe: did you break into my place again?]

[Book: I have a key]

[Joe: I’m taking it back]

[Book: no you aren’t]

Joe sighs, Booker’s right. He isn’t taking his key back. They all have keys to each other’s place, privacy long since passed between all of them. It’s more enter at your own risk now. But still. 

Joe wanted a little more time with his decision to essentially out himself as himself with this prickly version of Nicolò before everyone else knew about it. 

And everyone else would know about it because Booker likes to gossip. 

He pockets his phone, resigned to spending hours with ungrateful students before he can see Nicky again. 

~~~

Joe thought when he walked into Cup of Joe the next morning he would be met with a shy smile and a ‘how did you find that edition?’ of his book that he dropped off. 

What he did not expect was for Nicky to grab him by the arm and bring him right back outside in such a flurry that Joe nearly falls down. 

Joe takes a moment to steady himself as he takes in the anger and fear on Nicky’s face. 

It’s something Joe hasn’t seen in centuries, although this Nicky is already so different than the Nicolò’s of the past, from his longer hair curling around his ears, the beard around his face, and two gold earrings, but also the fact that he seems to remember is enough for Joe to know this time is different.

“Where did you find this?” Nicky scowls and shakes the book Joe dropped off the day before in front of his face. 

“I…”

“Yusuf.” The sound of Joe’s real name jolts him back into awareness. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I had it in my collection. Thought I could complete yours.”

“Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn al-Kaysani.”

Joe sucks in a shaky breath.

“Tell me how I know that’s your name.” Nicky snarls. “Tell me.”

“How? I don’t - ” 

“He’s the moon when I’m lost in darkness and warmth when I shiver in cold.” 

“Nicky.”

“Tell me, Yusuf, how I didn’t have to read a single line in this damn book to know what it said.” Nicky shoves the book into Joe’s chest and he clutches it to him. 

“I - ”

“Better yet. Tell me how I remember you writing this. In Malta, in our cottage by the sea with the windows open while I laid in bed. ‘Nicolò, habibi, stay just like that.’ ‘Are you sketching again, amore mio?’ ‘No, writing about our love.’ Because it is a memory, isn’t it?” 

Joe feels like he’s been sucker punched. 

“You...you remember?” 

Nicky groans and grabs at his hair. Joe doesn’t know how this is possible. So many things in his life haven’t made since but Nicolò, even though they go years without each other, has always been his constant. 

“Tell me how this is possible?”

“I can’t, I…” Joe feels like he can’t breathe and the incoming panic isn’t helping. “I have to go.” 

Joe turns quickly and walks away from Nicky as fast as he can even though Nicky’s shouting after him. 

“Yusuf!”

Joe feels like running but he’s already struggling to breathe so he doesn’t, thankful that Booker and Copley live close to the coffee shop. 

He gets to their door and knocks, barely able to stand. He could use his key but that would require effort. He hears someone’s footsteps, Copley’s probably, and braces against the door as it opens.

“Joe? Why didn’t you use your key?” Copley asks him and then frowns at him.

“James.” Joe croaks out and Copley immediately knows that something is wrong because Joe has called him James exactly one time, and it was when Copley and Booker got married.

“Okay. C’mon. Can you walk?” 

Joe nods and he can tell Copley is checking him over to see if he’s injured.

“‘M fine.”

Joe sinks down onto their plush couch as Copley calls for Booker.

“James? Was someone at the door?” Booker takes one look at what Joe is sure is the most pathetic he’s ever looked before Booker’s running over to him.

“Joe? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Booker’s frantically checking him over and Joe just shakes his head. 

Joe looks up at the sound of more footsteps and cringes when he sees Andy and Quynh. 

“What? You didn’t think we remembered what year it is?” Andy asks as she sits on the coffee table. 

Joe gives her a weak smile as Booker grabs his hands to stop them from shaking.

Copley hands him a glass of water and Joe’s grateful for the cold, as he takes a couple of minutes to get his breathing under control. 

When he’s finally able to take a true breath he looks up at the people he’s called family for longer than anyone should ever live and cries.

“He remembers.” Joe says brokenly.

“Who?”

“What does he remember?” 

“What happened?”

“Nicky?”

Joe ignores the rapid fire questions from everyone and just looks at Booker. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Someone tell me what’s going on.” Andy uses her no nonsense voice and Joe cringes.

“He met Nicolò the other day.” Booker sighs after a moment when Joe stays silent. 

Andy and Quynh gasp, which Joe supposes is nice, that Booker didn’t let the cat out of the bag until Joe could tell them himself. 

“He goes by Nicky this time.” Joe smiles at the memory of finding out that Nicolò uses a nickname in this lifetime. 

“He owns a coffee shop with two of his friends, it’s called Cup of Joe.” 

Andy snorts and Quynh swats at her arm. 

“He, well there were signs the last couple of days that he knew things about me, about us, that he shouldn't have. But I just assumed it was me overreacting.”

“I take it the book didn’t help?” Booker holds up the book to show everyone and Joe nods.

“I dropped it off yesterday and today before I even made it inside Nicky was grabbing me and bringing me outside to tell me he remembered every line of poetry.”

“Well, that would make sense if he read it yesterday.” Copley sits down next to Booker, who immediately grabs his hand. 

“He didn’t just remember the poetry. He remembered what we were doing when I wrote it.”

“Gross.” Booker gags and Joe shoves him while everyone laughs.

“No. We were in Malta. He told me word for word the conversation we had.”

“And you remember it?” Andy asks and Joe glares at her.

“Of course I do.” Joe snaps and then reaches out to squeeze Andy’s hand in apology. 

“What do you want to do?” Andy asks him and Joe shakes his head.

“No, it’s not just about me or - ”

“Joe. If he’s remembering you need to tell him. You always do anyway.” Booker says quietly. 

“He was just so confused.” Joe puts his head in his hands, ashamed at himself for leaving Nicky there when he was clearly freaking out. 

“Hey.” Booker grabs his shoulder and Joe looks at him.

“I just left him. He’s all alone and I left him, probably wondering what’s going on.” 

“It’s too late now to do anything. You can go to the coffee shop tomorrow and see him.” Booker suggests as Copley stands to make dinner.

“Tomorrow.”

Joe wants to go now. Wants to comfort Nicky or at least be an outlet for his frustration. Joe’s never had to explain their history to Nicky with Nicky already having a head start. 

“Fine. Copley better be making croque monsieurs.”

“I am!” 

Booker laughs and claps him on the back and Joe nods, resolute to fix this, so he doesn’t lose Nicky this lifetime. 

~~~

Joe shows up at Cup of Joe right as it’s opening, a small bushel of lavender, Nicolò’s favorite, in his right hand, and his poetry book in his left. 

Nile takes one look at him when he gets to the counter and scowls.

Joe takes a step back and holds his hands up. Nile notices the lavender and softens immediately.

“Is that for Nicky?”

“Yeah.” Joe swallows. “How is he?” 

“He’s...been better.”

Joe nods and looks to the side, wondering just how much Nicky disclosed to his friends. They’ve had mortal friends throughout the years, if only because Nicky was mortal as well. A few they’d let in on their secrets but not in a long time. 

Nile sighs loudly and he turns his attention back to her. 

“Look. I don’t know what happened between you two, but he was pretty shaken up yesterday.”

“I didn’t…” At Nile’s scowl, Joe amends his statement. “It was a misunderstanding. I have no intention of hurting him again.”

Nile takes a moment, sizes him up, and must come to some conclusion that he’s telling the truth because she nods and hands him a brown paper bag and a to go cup.

“What’s this?”

“His favorites.”

Joe smells the bag and smiles. “Vanilla latte and blueberry scone.”

Nile smiles at him and Joe’s thankful she doesn’t ask how he knows that.

“He lives upstairs. That.” She nods to the bag. “Will let him know I sent you.”

“Thank you, Nile.”

“Don’t make me regret this!” Nile shouts after him as he goes to leave.

“I won’t!” 

Joe finds the stairs leading to the second floor and smiles at the hanging plants and welcome mat that says ciao at the front door. 

Nicky opens the door before Joe even knocks, almost like he was expecting Joe to stop by. 

Joe smiles and holds up his offerings. “Hi. I think we should talk?”

Nicky holds the door open further so Joe can walk inside and as he takes a look around he smiles warmly at the apartment that is so very Nicky.

“Nile gave me these.” Joe hands over the coffee and scone. “And I brought you these.”

Nicky takes the lavender and brings it to his nose to smell. He smiles a little, even though it’s sad.

“I guess I don’t have to tell you they’re my favorite, do I?” 

“I’d love to learn everything about you.” Joe blurts out instead of the answer Nicky really wants. 

Nicky takes that for what it is as he puts the lavender in a vase and then opens the brown paper bag and moans when he sees the scone. 

Joe chuckles. “You like your own baking that much?”

Nicky looks at him oddly and then shakes his head as he takes a bite. “I don’t make these, Frankie does.”

Joe pauses and then smiles as he remembers that he always made Nicolò scones, an old family recipe that puts…

“Brown sugar in the batter.” Nicky finishes and Joe realizes that he said the last part out loud. 

Joe smiles, sheepish, and holds up the book instead. 

“I wanted you to have this.”

“Why?”

“Well, frankly, it’s yours.”

Nicky nods and hands Joe a glass of water and Joe is grateful for something to do with his hands as he waits for Nicky to answer. 

Joe hands it to Nicky who runs his hands over the cover like it’s something special and precious.

“This was the only one I couldn’t find. The others, they’re not a true collection, different authors.” Nicky grins. “But I knew they were all by the same person.”

“Did you?”

“Know it was you before the other day?”

Joe nods, wondering if Nicky’s been remembering his past lives his entire life.

“No. And before you ask I didn’t start...uhh, the, uhh, un riccardo, how do you say in English?”

“Memory.”

“Right, the memories didn’t start until we met the other day.”

“When we touched?” Joe remembers the jolt he felt, unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. 

“Sì.” 

“I’ve had these feelings my whole life, inklings, I think. Like with the books, the scones, things like that, but never actual memories before.”

Joe looks around the apartment and notices the tapestries and rugs that match the ones they have in their home in Malta. The artwork on the walls, reproductions of both Booker’s and Joe’s art. The same nine books of Joe’s that he has in the coffee shop. Little pieces of their lives together and Nicky had no idea.

“It’s all familiar to you?” Nicky asks him quietly and Joe nods.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“Our life...lives.” 

Joe looks shocked for a moment. “I thought you?”

“I want to hear it from you, if you’re willing?”

“Yes. Yes of course.” Joe smiles, pleased that Nicky’s willing to hear him out. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning.”

“It’s quite a long story. I’ve been alive a long time.”

“I’d like to hear it. I need to...make sense of everything.” Nicky points to his head and Joe smiles.

“Alright. I’m pretty sure you killed me during the Crusades.”

Nicky laughs and Joe can’t help it, he laughs too. A thought occurs to Joe and he gasps.

“Is that why you were so cold to me when we first met?”

Nicky’s cheeks turn a bright pink as he ducks his head and Joe warms at the sight.

“I didn’t know what was happening. I was confused. Seeing things that couldn’t have been real, in languages I didn’t know I knew.” Nicky shrugs. 

“You know I don’t blame you, right? We’ve long since worked it out.”

Nicky gasps and Joe’s glad that he can read this version of Nicky. 

“The love of my life was of the people I’ve been taught to hate.” Nicky recites and then shakes his head and Joe steps closer, raises his hand to telegraph his movements. 

Nicky nods and Joe squeezes his hand, gasps as the buzzing returns but then settles. 

“I love you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“You’re right, I don’t know this version of you, but I know your heart. I know the pain you still feel about what happened, but I’m telling you, the Nicolò I love has grown to realize the mistakes he made when he marched on Jerusalem.”

Nicky squeezes his hand before he steps back and Joe lets him go, stepping back a little himself. 

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you about our lives together, and you tell me about you.”

“You want to know about me?”

“I want to know everything.” 

Nicky smiles and turns to put on a kettle. Joe warms at the thought that Nicky still loves tea even though he owns a coffee shop.

“Chamomile? I think we’ll be up a while.”

Joe nods and takes a sip of the tea when it’s done, smiling when he realizes it’s just the way he likes it. 

Joe walks over the couch and settles with a blanket as he gestures for Nicky to join him. Nicky chuckles softly and goes to sit down.

Joe immediately shares the blanket as they settle in. 

“I think I’d rather hear about you first, especially if you remember a lot of our lives.”

“I’m not that interesting.” 

“Nicolò.” Joe waits until Nicky looks at him. “You are the most interesting person to me, always.”

Nicky blushes again and Joe’s enamored. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, he can’t wait to learn everything about this Nicky. 

~~~

When he leaves Nicky’s apartment the next morning, he’s smiling from ear to ear, with a spring in his step, even though he didn’t sleep.

They spent the rest of the day and all night talking, trading story after story. He knows they didn’t learn everything but he feels closer to Nicky than he ever has before, not realizing he was missing a partner that just knew things about him.

He also managed to get Nicky’s number and plans for an actual date tomorrow night, since all they ended up eating was leftovers. 

He’s giddy with the thought of dating Nicky. Of learning about all of the little things that make this Nicky decidedly his own. 

Joe doesn’t know how he does it but he makes it through all of his lectures and office hours. He even makes it through dinner with the family, overjoyed to tell them about his night and plans for the next day. 

He wakes up happier than ever, eager for the day to end so he can take Nicky out on their date. 

“I’ve never seen you like this.” Booker comments as they make their way to Cup of Joe the next morning.

“It’s all so new, we’ve never dated like this before.”

“You’ve dated.”

“But not like this. Not where he knows.” Joe knows he’s practically bouncing as they walk down the street, smiling from ear to ear. 

Booker chuckles and he shoves his brother lightly when he sees Nicky, Nile, and Frankie setting up their patio outside the coffee shop.

Joe also knows he has a besotted look on his face because Booker gags and then groans.

“Oh god, it’s like that already?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Joe says innocently and Booker smiles.

“It’s good to see you like this, brother.” 

Joe smiles warmly at Booker before he looks back at the trio outside the coffee shop. They’re just crossing the street and he calls out for Nicky. 

“Nicolò!”

But just as Nicky turns to smile at him, a car comes barreling down the road, completely out of control, and Joe can only watch in horror as the car hits the curb right in front of the coffee shop, flipping and careening right into the patio in a sickening crunch. 

“Nicolò!” Joe screams as others nearby scream and he and Booker run towards the wreckage. 

“Nicolò!” Joe slides to where Nicky was standing and sees him lying lifeless on the patio. He briefly touches Nicky’s forehead and looks around and sees Nile and Frankie lying at unnatural angles.

Nicky’s body is shielding them like he tried to push them out of the way. 

“Nicolò.” Joe croaks as Booker tries to pull him away.

“No. No!” 

“Joe. We have to call for help.”

“I can’t leave him!”

“Joe. He’s gone.”

“No! No!” Joe sobs as he cradles Nicky’s head. “No.”

“Yusuf.”

“No.” Joe knows he’s not breathing right, the hiccuping sobs making it harder to think.

“Nicolò, destati.” Joe sobs as he brushes Nicky’s shoulder softly. 

“Destati.”

[hurlumerlu]

Nile Freeman Week, Day 1

Love.

“When I was six”, begins Nile, iddly stirring her boba tea, “there was a boy.”

Andy nods. She’s not entirely sure how she feels about boba tea yet, and has no idea where this conversation is going : nodding seems like a safest course of action.

“His name was Djibril, and at the time I thought it was the most beautiful name in the world. He had a soft voice and a shy smile and I, being an enterprising girl, had decided that this meant I would fall in love with him.”

A late-afternoon light has settled over the park, giving everything an amber-colored glow. The way it falls on Nile’s forehead seems holy, like she’s been anointed, and that’s the kind of thoughts Andy really shouldn’t be having right now because they’re far too grand and pompous for the situation, for a quiet pause on a bench with a friend. “In my experience”, she says. “That’s not really how love works.”

Nile snorts. “I was a very determined six-year-old”, she replies, shaking her head slightly like she’s sharing a joke with her childhood-self. She hasn’t looked at Andy for a while now. Apparently, this is the sort of conversation one needs to have staring either at something in the distance or at the palm of one’s hand – the one that isn’t holding boba tea. “And Djibril was easy to love.  He was a sweet boy. Mom adored him.”

The silence that unfurls is one they’ve all learned to respect. Whenever Nile mentions her family, she needs a moment to taste the absence and make it hers again. As far as coping mechanisms go, it’s better than not thinking about it, or getting into a fight, or literally drinking yourself to death. Respect is the least they can give.

“Anyway”, goes Nile, suddenly animated again, eyes so warm with memories she looks like the light bathing her comes from within. “Not even a year after we met, his parents moved. I was crushed. We both were. I mean, it’s debatable if two seven-year-old can truly be in love, or how much of this was just us imitating the adults but… we were great friends. I thought he was the best. So we wrote each other. Long, long, long letters. You know, I miss letters sometimes ? I used to spend hours customizing the envelope. And he would always place a postcard inside the letter. Fold the sheets in three, with the postcard in the middle. It was like unwrapping a gift.”

Andy takes a slow sip, trying not to make noises. She’s still not sure about boba tea, and still doesn’t know where this is going, and wishes Nile would look at her. But she feels like there’s a question she’s meant to ask. “What was on the cards ?”

Nile’s smile grows even brighter (and the light definitely, definitely comes from within). “Oh, many things. Pretty things, mostly. Sculptures, landscapes, paintings. I know we were just kids, but we both... I don’t know. Beauty was already important. And there’s one I still remember seeing for the first time.” She gets a crumpled flyer out of her pocket. On it, a young woman is watching her audience, chin resting on her right thumb. Her starry crown is adorned with flowers and her face with a slight, almost imperceptible smile.

“Mucha”, says Andy. Even if the name hadn’t been written on the flyer, the style is always recognizable.

It’s Nile’s turn to nod. “Princezna Hyacinta. I’m not sure why, but the second I saw her it was… I just knew. Like love at first sight, but for a drawing. I brought the postcard everywhere with me, absolutely everywhere, and I had taped a clear pocket to the wall next to my pillow, so that I could sleep next to her. I was a weird kid. Well, all kids are weird. Anyway,” she says again. “It’s in Prague.”

That’s not exactly surprising. Still, Nile seems to be expecting an answer, so Andy decides to state the obvious. “We’re in Prague too.”

“Yes. I’d like to go see it.”

Okay. This is weird. Since when does Nile need her permission to do anything ?

“You do know I’m not really your boss, right ? Whatever you want to do on your free time, you...”

She stops there, because Nile is finally looking at her. “Andy”, she cuts in like she often does, with a kind of exasperated fondness. “I’d like to go see it with you.”

And she has no right to sound so put-upon, really, because this is the most round-about way of asking someone out Andy has ever heard. But she’s aware that the story – sweet Djibril and his beautiful postcards – meant something, even if she’s not quite sure what, so she isn’t going to complain, oh no. She leans on the back of the bench.

“I’d love that”, she says, and lets Princess Hyacinth smile knowingly at them both.

[knoepfchen]

the lovely @avaniesque ​ and @fadagaski ​ tagged me in this and it was a lot of fun to do some memory laning :D

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors! 

So, in reverse chronological order:

1. if you do take a thief (TOG): There was no such thing as remoteness in the South of England, no matter how far into the countryside you drove.

2. The Voice of Experience (TOG): “So, Andy. When’s the big party?” (counting this because I actually wrote it^^)

3. romantic love, and other incurable ailments (TOG): Joe can tell that something –  something  – is up with Nicky the second he steps into their apartment.

4. not sleepy enough to give it up (TOG): When Nicky comes back from the kitchen with his glass of water, Joe is still fast asleep, sprawled out on their bed.

5. a slow landslide (TOG): Nile’s breath barely hitches when she startles awake.

6. what i wouldn’t gif (TOG): "Andy's gone home for the night."

7. when i saw you, i fell in love; (TOG): A flash of striking blue eyes. A mouth curled into a snarl under a dark beard.

8. we that are true lovers run into strange capers (TOG): Of course, Booker was late.

9. i am lost, in the robes of all this light (TOG): Andy kicks the side of their boat in frustration.

10. a thicket of shadows is a poor coat (TOG): “Somebody get me out of this.”

11. and you smiled, because you knew. (TOG): Nicolò can barely remember the first time it happened. 

12. they paved paradise, and put up a parking lot (The Witcher): Why exactly Yennefer had agreed to meet Geralt in the parking lot of a McDonald’s on the M4 to drop Ciri off with him would possibly forever be beyond her. 

13. From Rome, With Love (TRC): It was rare for students at Aglionby Academy to unequivocally agree on something (even Henry Cheng had only won president of student council with a very marginal majority), but if there was anything at all in this world, it was that their new Latin teacher was the best they had ever had.

14. Blue Christmas (TRC): Christmas at 300 Fox Way used to be Blue’s favorite time of the year.

15. Kiss It Better (HP): Not that anybody was playing the fault card, but the whole thing could have been avoided if Eira Fairhurst, a second year Ravenclaw, had not decided to try and smuggle her baby rabbit into Hogwarts.

16. “I assume you don’t mind sharing?” (TRC): “I should have known there was a catch,” was all that Blue said when she entered the bedroom.

17. Oh, the Irony (TRC): Blue, Gansey and Noah were already sitting at their usual table at Nino’s when Adam and Ronan finally showed up, heated discussion in full swing.

18. Seven Lies and a Funeral (HP): “Why are you doing this again?” 

19. Bonus Round (TRC): “Bonus round”, Kavinsky said. Then: “Open.”

20. But Darling, Quidditch Season is over (HP): Summer had come, and summer had gone, and with it all the rebuilding of the castle they would call their home for another year.

Analysis: We sure love a statement entry xD I think I read somewhere at some point that you should always start your story at the latest possible point before everything kicks off, and in my fic that tends to translate to mid-conversation, apparently :) (Also interesting that you can spot my four year gap in writing fic from the titles - 2020 was all about the aesthetic lower case^^)

Tagging @andrea-lyn @werebearbearbar @sixth-light @bakedapplesauce @bewires @emjee @demonicneonfishy @aphroditestummyrolls @nevermindirah @meet-the-girl-who-can @rhubarbdreams @peachpitandpomegranate @nickydestati @scimitar-and-longsword @lucyclairedelune @emotionallycompromisedrobots @raedear @kaydeefalls - only of you want to or have time/muse/spoons for it, ofc :)

[randomingoftherandomness]

Would love (!) some OT3 pining

Also for the Anons who sent me Kafka and Mary Oliver. Told you I would put it in a fic ✌🏼

I must apologise for not putting this under a read more. The WiFi in my home is out and I can only type things out on my phone. All typos are mine x

--

The postcard comes on a rainy Friday. It was a simple print out of a coastline with only the line, 'I am fond of lovers but I cannot love, I am too far away, am banished' written on the back.

Kafka.

Joe huffs. Of course, that dramatic bitch. He holds it in his hand half curled to crumple, only to pause. He feels his breath stick in his chest from the sudden rush of gentle wanting and swelling heartache that he has consciously tried not to give in to. Fuck this, he thinks with a short burst of irrational irritation.

Joe stuffs the postcard into the drawer in the hallway. Consigning it to be forgotten.

The next postcard comes a year after. This time, Mary Oliver's 'You want to cry aloud for your mistake. But to tell the truth the world doesn't need anymore of that sound' is scrawled in the familiar handwriting that also pock marks the margins of Joe's own journals.

Nicky had been the one at home to receive it and Joe had come home from the beach to see him sitting there pondering the postcard passively.

"It's not the first," Nicky says, lifting his gaze from the nondescript vista of cliffs and a sunset. "I have a box of six upstairs in my sock drawer."

"There's one in the hallway drawer," Joe offers with a wry smile. Nicky returns it with one that tells him that it had not gone unnoticed.

Taking the seat next to him, he slides their hands together, considering the way the postcard sits on the worn grain of their dining table. The words, written in black ink, are pressed into the fibres of the card. As if the writer wanted to impose some of their intent in each stroke and whorl. The longing for their wayward lover settles heavy in his gut and Joe sits with it.

"I know you miss him. You know I miss him too."

Joe lifts their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Nicky's. "We still love him."

Nicky lifts a finger to tap at the line of poetry, humming noncommittally. "But we can't let him back yet, can we? What he did still hangs over us. If we do, we will always hold it against him and he will always wonder if we really, truly forgive him."

"So, what do you suggest we do, my love? We can't leave him, you and I know that will never happen, but we cannot take him back. Not as we are."

Nicky tilts his head, lips pressed together in thought. "Perhaps we could write him a postcard of our own. Just to start."

Joe has to smile at that. Trust his Nicky to know just what to do. Leaning over to slide their mouths together in a kiss, he allows himself that soft longing for their constant shadow. Maybe there could be something to salvage in this after all.

.

.

.

.

.

Booker has not been back to this address for the better part of the decade and therefore had not expected a pastle edged postcard amongst the pamphlets and unopened letters.

It was one of those, upon first glance that looked like it was a loving sketch that should have belonged in the books of a Renaissance master, but Booker knows better. It's one of him from the '30s when the world was tipping over on a universal scale and he was neck deep in love and lingering guilt.

'Lean, love, and look into my soul;

There is no bar 'twixt thee and me,

Thine, mine, a vast Eternity;

Lean, love, and speak unto my soul.'

Nicky's handwriting, for someone who had been trained to transcribe religious texts, is atrocious. But the words from Destin makes Booker smile in the watery autumn morning light. He rereads it, closing his front door, and rereads again for the rest of the morning until he can memorise every horrible scratch of Nicky's hand on the card.

He's written more than a dozen postcards. Sent them to the houses he knows they are at. They've never replied to a single one and Booker does not expect them to. There still was a no contact rule in place even if Nile calls and texts every other week, and Andy chimes in whenever she is in the same room.

Whatever had given his former lovers - because he wouldn't dare presume that they would ever want him back - the push for this, he isn't going to question. Booker is just happy they would even write back.

It's a start.