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angelsanarchy · 2 months

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Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N One-Shot Series PRT 32

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr@thatsthewrongwallcraig@icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06@shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl @s-0lar @kristennero-wallacewellsver@ophelialaufey @mayathepsychic1999 @x-prettyboy-x @rorylover71 @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27

Jack moves about the house with his fresh tapes for the tape recording that sent him into a spiraling psychotic break over a year ago. Now he's using it to record his own tapes. He realizes it seems stupid but he wanted to replace the wounds from the past with potentially new and more positive things he can reflect on in the future.

"So this is the first recording...obviously it's me...Jack...God I feel stupid." Jack shook his head and lit a cigarette trying to calm his nerves.

"Okay...so the house is almost completely finished. I debated on painting the outside of it but decided it wasn't really necessary. Once the weather is nicer, I might consider doing more landscaping." Jack shook his head feeling like an idiot.

"I also finished writing my first book. I found a local editor to look over it and I'm kind of nervous about it. Y/n has been helping me work through those anxious moments which is nice. I like having her around. Y/n is different than anyone I've ever known. She makes me feel like I'm not a complete psychopath. She gives me hope that someday I can live a normal, happy life with all the issues I have. I know that sounds cliche and all but she makes life easier." He smiled to himself thinking about all the times she's helped him.

"I recently suffered a relapse...I honestly thought that was going to be it. I thought if I could just get Y/n out of the house, I could sink back into the darkest corners of my brain and fester there alone. But she wouldn't let me. She stayed. She wasn't scared of me and she didn't hold it against me. She stayed and got me through it." Jack looked at the little smiley face she had put on his thumb with a pen the other night while they were standing in line at the grocery store. He knew it was silly but he made sure to be careful when washing his hands just to preserve the little face.

"I don't know that I've ever felt like this for someone. Cleo...she was kind of my first love. She was special and I had planned a whole life with her but I was never able to visualize it. I could never close my eyes and see us in the future together." Jack looked across the street and could see a light turn on in Y/n's house. He knew it was her mother's room. He also knew this was about the time she got up to stretch her legs around the house. She was getting a lot stronger. He liked the visits they had started having. He liked having dinner with Y/n and her mom. It felt like a family.

"When I think about what a future with Y/n would look like, I see us living in this house that I've made my own. Getting another dog for Ace to play with. Maybe even a cat, I know how much Y/n has talked about having a cat and a dog and I think that would be fun. Waking up in the morning to see her out the door to work, having dinners with her mom in the evening and helping her take care of her garden." Jack felt warmth in his belly when he pictured it.

"I've only just finished this book about the worst parts of my life and I already want to write another about what my life is now, what it could be with her. I want her to come home to me, this beautiful house and our pets who we obnoxxiously treat like our children." Jack rambled.

"Are you talking to yourself?" Jack startled and dropped the recording on the porch. His eyes went wide seeing Cleo standing just 10 feet away from him.

"C-cleo? W-what are you..." Jack stood up and she held her hand up warning him not to approach.

"So you just sit out here by yourself and talk about how wonderful your life is now that you've destroyed everyone else's? God I knew you were a narcist but I never pictured you this far gone." Cleo looked him over and watched as he itched at his arms.

"What? Are you on drugs or something? Out here getting high and ranting to yourself? God Jack, you really are-"

"I'm not on drugs...i've got scabs...they're healing." He turned his arm slightly and she could see the remains of his self harm from his last relapse.

"You tried to kill yourself?" She asked almost annoyed.

"A few times actually. I'm...adjusting to my mental illnesses and all that comes with them. I recently had a relapse..." Jack cleared his throat and Cleo nodded.

"That explains the voicemail I got. You should really remove my cellphone from your medical charts." She crossed her arms.

"I will make a note of that. Sorry for them bothering you." He apologized.

"What are you doing here? I mean I thought you were done with me? Your voicemail said-"

"I know what the voicemail said. I found a box I forgot to drop off and after some thoughts of burning it, I decided to listen to someone's advice about getting closure." Cleo grabbed the chair that sat next to the one Jack was in and drug it away from him.

"Wh-what kind of closure?" Jack asked nervously. He was unsure of what she wanted from him at this point but he was willing to give her whatever she needed to have closure. She deserved that.

"I want to know the whole story. I want to know what happened here a year ago. I want to know what you found and why you were locked up. I want to know why you hung up on me and abandon me when I needed you the most. Why you turned your back on our life together with out son." Cleo tried not to cry but she was letting angry tears roll down her cheeks. Jack sat down slowly in the chair opposite her and took a deep breath.

Jack sat there and recounted everything to Cleo. He told her about how his parents died in the car crash together, how he started having a slip from reality thinking his mother was still alive. The hallucinations that came with it and how he thought he was plotting her murder. He told her about the sexual abuse he suffered as a child. He told her about the articles in the attic he found and how he had completely forgotten about all of it. He tried not to cry while he recounted it but she actually put her hand on his knee to comfort him. He told her about what his dad did to his twin brother when they were just babies. They both cried at that point.

"I'm not telling you all of this as some sort of excuse. What I did to you and the baby was inexcusable. I just want you to know that I've never been more sorry in my life for anything. You were such an important part of my life and-" She stopped him.

"I know Jack. I know you're sorry and I forgive you. I'm so sorry you suffered so much as a child. No one deserves that kind of pain and suffering." She looked at him much softer now, like she did truly forgive him.

"You seem to be doing well now...even after the relapse." She commented looking him over.

"I've had a lot of help." He ran his hand through his hair and she nodded.

"So I heard. You seem to talk about a Y/n quite a lot in that recording. Who is she?" She asked without a hint of jealousy.

"She's actually my neighbors daughter...she's helped me through a lot of this." Jack explained and Cleo pointed at his face.

"You're in love with her." She smiled.

"How do you know that?" He asked curiously.

"Because you smile just thinking about her. You used to do that with me." She said softly. She didn't seem upset, she just seemed relieved.

"I'm sorry-" She cut him off.

"Jack, you don't have to be sorry. I'm glad I came here and talked to you. I have been so angry and bitter about you, I needed this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring.

"I've met someone. He's brilliant and you would probably think he's a complete ass but-" It was his turn to cut her off.

"I'm sure he's great. You've always had good taste." He teased.

"I'm happy with him and I wanted to be able to let go of this...us...what we had so I could truly start a life with him." She explained.

"I'm happy you're happy. You deserve the world Clo." Jack nodded at her. She stood up from the chair and he followed her to her car. She handed him his box and stopped to look at him once more.

"Take care of yourself Jack." She touched his face and he sighed at the gesture. She got in her car and as he watched her drive away, he knew this would be the last time he would hear or see Cleo ever again.

He felt himself getting overwhelmed and noticed his heartbeat picking up. A panic attack was coming and he wasn't sure what to do. He hurried into the house with the box and tried to steady his breathing. His hands shook as he fought against the pull in his chest.

A storm was coming.

#Jack Thurlow #Jack Thurlow x Y/N #One Shot Series #Glass Houses #Glass Houses Series #Jack Goes Home #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult

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sincerely-sofie · 2 months

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I'm not sure if you've said this outright but, how old are each of the characters?

Barring the obvious exceptions, Ark and Celebi, I've been trying, and failing, to figure out how old they all were during the events of EOS, it's post-game and TPiaG.

My failure to set concrete ages for the characters as well as neglecting to plot a year-by-year timeline is finally catching up with me.

I never really paid much attention to the cast’s ages beyond being kids vs. adults. The accuracy of a timeline has never been as important to me as telling a story, as long as it mostly makes sense at first glance. I am mathematically challenged, after all. However, I’ve attempted to redeem my past laziness and finally sat down to make a series of checkpoints for the ages of the main cast (those who age, at least) throughout the events of the game and fanfic! I really hope I got the math and events right… As a quick way of calculating people’s ages, I used Twig as a waypoint for everyone else to be based around.

When Twig and Grovyle first encounter each other, they’re very young. I think I said Twig was six years old when she left her bunker in TPiaG itself, but based on how I wrote her as a human, I think I should bump that number up to eight.

Twig: 8

Grovyle (Technically “Treecko” at this point): 16

They join forces with Celebi two years later, and Dusknoir starts tracking them immediately after.

Twig: 10

Grovyle: 18

Dusknoir: 41

At the start of the in-game events of Explorers of Sky, the characters are as follows:

Twig: 13

Kip: 12

Grovyle: 21

Dusknoir: 44

Team Venture graduates from the Guild eight years later, which makes everyone…

Twig: 21

Kip: 20

Grovyle: 29

Dusknoir: 52

The reunion with the Future Trio at the start of TPiaG occurs two years after that.

Twig: 23

Kip: 22

Grovyle: 31

Dusknoir: 54

By the time Twig encounters an amnesiac Darkrai, Kip’s been on his expedition for an additional two years.

Twig: 25

Kip: 24

Grovyle: 33

Dusknoir: 56

Ark goes soul-searching after the end of TPiaG, the main events of which take place across about a year, for one full year. This means by the time he and Twig become housemates again, everyone is as follows—

Twig: 27

Kip: 26

Grovyle: 35

Dusknoir: 58

Twig and Ark enter a romantic relationship three years later.

Twig: 30

Kip: 29

Grovyle: 33

Dusknoir: 61

Opal comes along about two years after that.

Twig: 32

Kip: 31

Grovyle: 40

Dusknoir: 63

This is a very rough timeline, and probably won’t hold up to much scrutiny at all. But I hope this helps make things a little easier to imagine!

#there is something weirdly funny to be about Grovyle entering his 40s at the start of the Shadow Baby Arc #SURPRISE GRASS-BOY #YOU’RE BARELY A YEAR YOUNGER THAN DUSKNOIR WAS WHEN HE STARTED CHASING YOU GUYS #THE OLD MAN-ACCUSER HAS BECOME THE OLD MAN HIMSELF!!#the present is a gift au #shadow baby au #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokémon mystery dungeon #pmd explorers #pmd sky #pmd eos #pmd2 #pmd #sofie answers asks

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morganacorp · 2 months

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Lol

Grace getting her facial and her phone keeps dinging because Sadie's in the middle if her bi-awakening.

Text #1: where u at?

Text #2 & #3: Grace! ?

Text #4: i thought u were coming 2 spin class!

Text #5: i gave lola3 ur latte

Text #6: r u really not coming? i'll save you Aseat just in case

Text #7: nvmnd. this class is huge. tried to fight off an old lady to keep your bike open. Ur welcome

Text #8: omg grace this place smells like wet socks

Text #9: kimberkyn says ur getting a facial. rude

Text #10 & #11: lola says hi BTW. Hi

Text #12: *picture of Sadie and Lola and Kimberlyn* bout to get sweaty!

Text #13: the instructor said we can't have our phones. so peace out! ✌️😋

*missed call*

Text #14: ohmygod grace answer your phone!

Text #15: ok. it's nothing. it's probably nothing. don't worry about it. it's fine. i'll tell you later.

*missed call*

Text #16: ok. so this is probably gonna get long and there will be typosz bc i don't have a lotg of time bcz i had to sneak 2 the bthrm bc i need 2 tell u something but we can't have our phones on the bikes which is so dumb bc I can multitask its not like I'm gonna

Text #17: sorry. lola scared me. o thought it was the instructor. anyway listen there is this girl. no. not just a girl. she is a woman. like a sculpted by the gods woman in this class and she has like. The most insanely perfect ripples i have ever seen and like her eyes are nice too BTW but we were changing un the same room and she just

Text #18: sorry i think the memory made me black out. God. Like. Look. I know it's not okay to objectify someone just because we're in a environment that encourages tight fitting clothing and vigorous rhythmic activity but u don't understand grace. she is gorgeous and omg she laughed when I asked if she knew where the vending machines were and i think my heart kind jumped out of my body because she sounded so sweet. and I want to talk to her again but I also can't fucking breathe because spin class is hard and i already drank all of my water and lola's too and i hate that ur not here. There I said it. I can usually be more put together when ur arounfe but

Text #19: her eyes are green btw

Text #20: not even like gross green. they are like perfect and not even the same color which is somehow even better and they have like stars in them not even lying

Text #21: and she has her hair in a braid and she got kinda sweaty so there's little wisps sticking out around her face and i never like licking sweaty ppl but like if she asked

Text #22: oh shot. i didn't mean that. idk why my mind went to licking her face instead of kissing her like a normal person

Text #23: that would b normal right? i mean iv nver rlly thought abt it b4. not really. but i watched glee. i know it usually hits in high school and obvi it didn't 4 me so this is mayb just bc i only had two donuts this morning instead of 3

Text #24: omg she asked kimberlyn if I have ibs while I was gone. I hate everythibg

Text #25: fyi i took a quiz a minute ago and turns out glee lied

Text #26: i wanted to ask lola if she has like a booklet for ppl questioning their. Preferences but i think mayb it would b easier if u asked for me

Text #27: fuck this is all so weird

Text #28: but also not. it's scary nit weird. like I thought admiring Walker got a little too intense but this is. This is something else

Text #29: ive eaten some beef jerkey and i think it's too soon to think about kissing her. it feels too invasive. so I'm just gonna keep watching her ass in class

Text #30: thnx btw 4 all ur help grace. U r rlly good 2 talk 2

Text #31: ^sarcasm fyi

Text #32: omg her name is lena. isn't that nice? i think that is the most beautiful name in the whole wide world

Text #34: i think she waved at me

Text #35: damn. it was oneof her friends walking outside the door

Text #36: her whole name is lena kieran luthor. and her birthday is October 13.

Text #37: and no she didnt tell me that i looked through her purse while pretending to have ibs and hiding in the bathroom. she uses Christian Dior perfume. i think I have a problem

Text #38: grace can u please call me so I can just leave??

Text #39: i feel like everyone knows. they keep talking about me i can feel it

Text #40: omg she helped the little old lady in front of me asjust her settings on the bike. She's so nice. i bet she saves puppies and orphans in her spare time. angel in disguise right there

Text #41: how long is this fucking spin class?!

Text #42: lola was talking about a gay show called the bold type. will u watch it with me so I can see how a normal heterosexual would react?

Text #43: lena offered me a drink from her water bottle and i didn't even worry about germs. I just went for it

Text #44: how long is ur fucking facial?! Y haven't u texted me back?!

Text #45: only 5 more minutes. I can do this

Text #46: I think lens was flirting with lola and I wish I had laser vision so I could set everything on Fire this is awful

Text #47: my heart is broken

Text #48: nvmnd. she touched my arm and said she likes my shirt.

Text #49: I'm wearing one of kimberlyns work out shirts BTW but that's not the point. She likes it on me. So kimberkyn is never getting this back

Text #50: omg! Grace! Grace!

Text #51: she recommended we get kombucha after class. Idk what that is but I would eat anything for her

Text #52: Lola says kombucha tastes like ass and kimberkyn says we have to get back ;(

Text #53: SEE THIS IS WHY I NEED YOU HERE YOU COULD VOTE TO GO GET KOMBUCHA WITH ME

Text #54: NOOOO ILL NEVER SEE HER AGAIN. GOODBYE BEAUTIFUL GODDESS GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD

Reply: lol

Text #55: ur laughing. i bear my broken soul to u and ur laughing

Text #56: Not Cool Grace

ANON THIS IS HILARIOUS 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Thank you so much for this, it has made my night! There's so many gems hidden in here... I'm in tears! 😂😂😂

#lena luthor #the girls on the bus #sadie mccarthy

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xsweetcatastrophe · 3 months

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You Broke Me First

Part 6.

Zoe stood in front of her closet, looking at her options.

what do I wear to a first date with a person I have allegedly been dating for a month already? She thought.

The agreement was Zoe and Cillian go freshen up and meet up for lunch. Cillian was kind enough to walk Zoe to her old Jeep, and Zoe pretended to not see him judging the old truck.

Zoe decided on some high waisted light wash jeans and a white t-shirt tucked in, showing off her waist. She hardly ever goes out anymore, so she decided to put a little more effort into her appearance. She kept her hair in a low bun from when she went to work that morning, and added some mascara. She put on a pair of sneakers and grabbed her purse, keys and sunglasses and left.

She made her way to the little Cafe in a quiet part of town, parked and walked in. She half expected him to be late again, however he beat her there. He grabbed a table in the back corner. She made her way over.

"Half expected you to to not show" He said as she sat down. "Listen, I gotta say something" he continued.

Zoe stared at him, waiting him to continue.

Cillian sighed. "I gotta apologize. I came in with a bad mood to your interview, and I woke up hung over and STILL in a bad mood. You got the brunt end of it all. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you got dragged into this, I know, it's silly. I'm not really this arrogant; I'm usually very quiet. This whole divorce brought out the worst in me..." He said, breaking eye contact and looking down. He does that a lot, Zoe thought.

"I get it. you're human. you're allowed to feel emotions. I appreciate the apology. I have never done anything like this before so I apologize if I seem a little hot-headed. I just don't know how to navigate all this..." She said, starting to bounce her knee. She was getting anxious, she could feel it. She clenched her hand into a fist on the table, feeling her nails dig into her skin.

"well I don't know anything about this either so.. maybe we can try and navigate it together?" Cillian said, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze. Zoe forced out a smile and nodded.

"Parker," Zoe said softly.

Cillian looked at her, confused. "Hm?"

"My last name. It's Parker"

____________________________________________

Zoe and Cillian spent hours at the cafe; just like they did the night of the interview. Only difference is there was no alcohol, and they remembered everything they talked about. She learned about his upbringing in Cork, his band days and his vacationing in France with his parents and all his siblings.

She told him about her upbringing on the east coast, in a small beach town in New Jersey. How her older sister moved to Colorado and she has nightly facetimes with her neice, who Zoe adores more than life itself. Zoe wasn't ever sure if she wanted kids, but after her niece was born she was positive she wanted a child of her own.

Of course, in true mom fashion, Zoe got guilt trips from her mother regarding her age and still being single. "Looks like Casey will be my only granddaughter at this rate" Zoe would get told on the phone.

The truth? As she got older, Zoe's mother's nagging started to get to her. She was 32, single, with no prospects. She didn't actively date, and didn't put her self out there. She much rather stay in the comfort of her own home. Things were easier that way. She made her own happiness. Some might call it "closed off", Zoe saw it as protecting herself.

But could she stay like that forever?

"Wanna grab a drink? Just one. Seriously. Scout's honor" Cillian said, grabbing the bill before Zoe could put down any cash.

"uhh.. I'm not sure. it's getting late...." Zoe said, missing her couch and her sweatpants. She's had enough socializing for the day.

"Come on, just one. It's nice out, we can walk to the bar down the street" Cillian insisted.

"...Fine." Zoe said, forcing a smile.

The pair stood up and made it to the door, which Cillian held open for her. She stepped out and was met with about 10 photographers across the street, staring them down.

"Just smile and walk" Cillian immediately said, and grabbed her hand in hers.

Oh. OH. Zoe thought, half forgetting this was all for show.

They walked, hand in hand, down the street. Cillian every once in a while would squeeze her hand and smile at her, laying it on thick for the paparazzi.

This isn't real. This isn't real, Zoe kept telling herself. She was battling an internal war, half of her knew this was a forced relationship by her publicist; and the other half found herself really enjoying her time with Cillian. The conversation at lunch flowed and didn't feel forced. But it's all fake... Right?

Cillian released her hand and draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side as they continued their walk.

"You okay?" He whispered in her ear.

"Yea. Just weird. I wish they would go away" Zoe said.

"Aw, come on. You can't hate them nearly as much as I do" He said, still smiling like a moron in case they were still taking pictures.

"No, they're annoying. Get a real job" Zoe said condescendingly.

Cillian scoffed at the comment.

"How different are they from you?" Cillian said. Zoe almost stopped short.

"what are you talking about? I'm a journalist. I'm nothing like them"

"And who do you think they sell the pictures to? Publications like yours. Don't give them shit for their job when you're just like them. Maybe not same position, but same damn industry. Lest we not forget we met up because you wanted to ask me a million questions about my life. Pretty invading, don't you think?" Cillian said, stopping in front of the bar.

The entire tone of the night shifted. Cillian was perfectly fine at lunch, but now he seemed like he was disgusted with Zoe and her comment. Zoe didn't know what to say. She wanted to go home.

Cillian opened the door to the bar.

"After you... babe."

tags: @lau219

#cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian fic #cillian x fem!reader

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grumpygreenwitch · 2 months

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The Witches and Wizards Job 31-32-33

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42

THIRTY ONE

The first rule of dealing with something magically stronger than you is to keep a low profile. You know, the one thing I've never been able to do all that well.

To be fair, I'd known from the beginning that if I went to the auction, that if I agreed to follow Ford's plan, I'd be in Koschei's crosshairs sooner or later. The mastermind had not lied to me, not one single step of the way. I'd just been hoping that with all those plans and machinations, I'd be able to stay in the background, for once.

Harry Dresden, eternal optimist.

I'd stayed closed to the bar after I was done with my part in the festivities, the easier for Eliot to find me. It was a good central place, I had a nice line of sight to two other rooms, and I could catch a glimpse of a couple more. I waited for the flash of blue.

I didn't have a plan. Despite my reputation, I'm not the sort of man that goes looking for fights, particularly with something I know it's stronger than me. I will fight if there's no other option, and most of the time there just isn't.

Sophie walked back into the main area, looking around, and I had to force myself to walk up to her. I'd done my job too well; the Veil on the diamond dripped a sort of subtle menace that matched her perfume, and my feet didn't want to go. Paradoxically, it was the memory of the Soulgaze, paired with how she'd charmed the Dredgers, that got me moving. This was Sophie Deveraux. A creature made of mirrors, of masks, that still managed to know herself better than anyone I'd ever met. No Veil could ever be more powerful than the woman currently wearing it. So I scooted over and introduced myself.

We managed to trade a whole three pleasantries before she hauled up and slapped me so hard I went staggering back. The only reason I didn't go down was that my supposed bodyguard came back at that moment and caught me. Sophie was snarling rapid-fire Russian at me, glaring murder. The entire room turned their attention on us. She took one step forward and suddenly Fedorov was there, one arm around her waist, murmuring soothingly, his uncle and Nick just a step behind him. She hissed something back at him, in no mood to be appeased. Ying Ying had a tiny little grin on her perfect orchid mouth, and two of the people with her looked like they were about to start laughing. A few, very few, of those around me, looked mildly disconcerted - the look of people who'd come to a party expecting, you know. A party. Not a potential brawl.

"Dresden, what did you do?" Eliot hissed at me through gritted teeth. Someone laughed, high and brittle, off to one side; the fey twins had just arrived.

"I was complimenting her!" I protested my innocence. Surely I was a very convincing advocate for it.

"Complimenting!" Sophie exclaimed in angry disbelief, her Russian accent even more clipped.

"Kate, it's fine," Fedorov tried.

"It is not fine!" She whirled on him. "I will not be compared to a, a peddling, graverobbing mortal mongrel!"

"I didn't compare!"

"Dresden -"

"I just said it was kinda nice to meet a bigger crook than the Brit."

"Harry!" Eliot snapped.

She made to charge me. Fedorov caught her, just barely, speaking hasty Russian. Off to one side Hardison, having just come downstairs, pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well, that seems uncalled for," he muttered primly. Those around him tittered mildly.

"This is why you need a babysitter, man," the hitter growled at me.

"Please!" Here came the man of the hour, arms outstretched, friendly uncle mode fully engaged. "No violence, no violence, this is a party! We're celebrating. If someone has to be drawn and quartered, surely it can wait until after the auction -" Koschei caught sight of me and came to a dead stop, mouth open, eyes gone wide, the joke forgotten.

"And you!" Sophie all but shouted at him. "What game are you playing here? None of these are real, they are all fakes! The portrait is not here! Were you going to rob us all? Have you stolen all the originals and were you going to play us all for fools?"

For a second, a single dangerous moment, Koschei was too stunned by my presence at his shindig to defend himself or refute Sophie's accusations. Under normal circumstances that wouldn't be a problem. Most people's minds didn't jump to betrayal just because someone shouts about thirty pieces of silver in the crowd.

But most of those around us weren't people.

"There's really only a few confidence games," Nate had told me. "Every con, every heist, every job is based off of them. The Kennedy half-dollar is a variant of the Golden Fiddle, the con we did when we needed you in the MFA vaults. We're going to question the value of everything in that auction, forcing the man in black to prove its worth."

And on that razor's edge of perfect timing, Sophie pulled it off. I felt the mood in the room shift as vividly as if it were a visible tide. No one thought much of Harry Dresden, professional wizard. Ying Ying had only noticed me, probably, because of the current situation between the White Council and the Red Court. But the fact I'd approached a deadly, unknown predator, coupled with the interest they all had on Vanya Fedorov, meant Sophie's curator character and I both had a sudden wealth of banked credibility. We were believable. And when Koschei didn't immediately refute the accusations, given everyone there was a crook of one kind or another, doubt immediately sank in and took root.

"Of course they're real!" Koschei protested at last with a scoff. "The only item I'm selling is the painting -"

"Portrait!" she hissed at him.

"Whatever! I have no interest in the Dragon's Flute or the Bag of Winds, or any of the other…" He waggled his hand restlessly. "Oddities on offer here!"

"And yet it would not be the first time you have taken something from their sellers, is it," she shot back acidly.

Koschei recoiled. Minutely, but it was still the worst possible thing he could have done. Behind me I heard Ying Ying whisper something to one of her cohorts. Unlike her, I couldn't make out the words, and I doubted Eliot could either; then again, I didn't know if he even spoke Thai. That didn't matter. What mattered was watching the young woman march off smartly, already reaching for her phone. Past her, security began to slip into the room, likely sniffing the potential for trouble. I counted four and stopped paying attention, because after that numbers weren't gonna matter.

"Is this true?" a young man's voice asked. The fey twin, the memory-eater, stepped forward. He was wearing a tux in bloody shades, and somehow he made it look good. "Are all of the items copies, are none of the real items here?"

"No!" Koschei tried to laugh it off. "Yes, I did put the actual portrait elsewhere, for safekeeping reasons. But I haven't tampered with anything else, why would I?"

"Yeah, why would ya?" Classy growled, flanked by four of his people, all of them glaring murder at the wizard. "Why fuckin' would ya," he clipped out.

Koschei was glaring murder at me, even though I hadn't said a word since the whole mess had started. I grinned back at him. The whispers among the small crow were beginning to turn into a solid, angry murmur. "Please!" He threw his arms out. "I'll have the original painting, er, portrait, brought over at once. You can authenticate it to your heart's content. I cannot account for everything else -"

"Why the hell not?" Classy snarled back. "This whole copy bait-n'-switch mess was yer fuckin' idea!"

"I will tend," Koschei gritted out, "to those concerns in a moment, mister Act, I assure you."

Entirely unrelated to anything going on, my brain suddenly figured out Classy's actual name, and I snickered. It wasn't much. It burst out of me when even I wasn't expecting it. The room's attention lashed out and latched onto that sound, and then came back to rest on Koschei like a shroud of stone. He flicked his fingers at one of the security people, a man who looked vaguely like an unfinished slab of rock given human shape, and said something. I felt Eliot tense next to me.

The man nodded to his instructions and waved a couple of his people over. They moved on at a brisk step. I felt a press of heat at my back and knew we'd been given some company. "Two?" I asked Eliot as quietly as I could.

"Three," he replied evenly.

A large, flat wooden crate was brought in. Crowbars came out, and Sophie gasped. She was not the only one. Hardison made to say something but thought better of it, and everyone around him whispered uneasily.

"Carefully, please," Koschei entreated his people.

"Why not have Mister Act and his people do it?" Sophie suggested. "I trust their handling of priceless treasures far more than I trust your thugs."

The crowd murmured agreement. Classy looked surprised for a fleeting moment, then put on his best business face on and stepped forward, shrugging off his jacket and nodding to his people. One of the security people offered him a crowbar and he scoffed. "Clod," he declared disdainfully, rolling up his sleeves. His people, somehow having become five in number, swarmed over the box, tipped it over until their boss could run his hands over the seam between two boards. He felt his way along until he found the right spot, nodded to himself, and slid his claws in. The wood bulged, he twisted his arms a smidge, and the front board sprang free along one corner. The Dredger shifted his grip in some impossible way and peeled the board off one nail at a time, methodical and slow, until he and the woman with him could remove it altogether. Another one of his crew carefully removed the padding away and they all stepped back. A sigh went through the crowd. The portrait was, magic aside, truly a work of art. The colors, the details, the sheer amount of work that had obviously gone into it were enough to make even an uneducated goon like me understand why art was what it was, why it touched people the way it did.

Sophie stepped forward. So did Hardison, working his glasses. "So this is the original, then?" he asked Koschei. "The actual original?"

"On my word it is," the wizard smiled stiffly at him.

That one was gonna come back to hurt him, I thought. It made me smile.

Sophie and Hardison paced before the painting. It was him who stepped back first. "No, it isn't."

"Excuse me?" Koschei stared at him blankly.

Sophie swore at him in Russian. Behind Fedorov, I saw his uncle put a despairing hand to his face. "What game do you think to play with us?" Her voice was regal and lethal; the Veil was pretty much overkill at that point. "This is just another fake!"

"Sir," Hardison's British accent had gotten even more rigid. "I find this unacceptable -"

"This is the real portrait!" the wizard protested.

Sophie scoffed in patent disbelief. Koschei puffed up indignantly. The crowd was growing loud and very restless.

A sound like a drum silenced everyone. "If I may," a man's voice wheezed. "I have, for the auction, acquired the services, very costly, of one of city's, quite capable, experts on the artist." The crowd parted. The toad-like man shifted, settling back down, stubby fingers holding a brandy glass. No amount of custom-fitted tailoring or magic could fully hide his nature, though he was making the best attempt of everyone present to pass as human. He was surrounded by four willowy blondes that I was sure could murder most everyone there without care or effort. The toad dredged in another breath. "I must question, unfortunately, the lady's opinion, as one must." He gestured with one stubby hand at Sophie. "You may be, possibly, tricking the competition, being us, into leaving."

Sophie gasped, elegantly offended.

"A possibility," Hardison said before she could detonate, then turned to Koschei. "If there's another expert curator present, I would welcome their opinion. I'm good, of course, but Sokolov is not my particular field of expertise."

Koschei was looking outright murderous, but he managed to dig up a smile out of somewhere. "Of course. Mister Batra, please, your expert?"

The toad's bodyguards parted; he stepped aside.

Jessamine Lochlin, dressed in a lovely lilac and green gown, stepped forward.

Well, crap.

THIRTY TWO

The only person present who could say anything did. "Jessamine," Sophie breathed.

Parker's friend gave her a withering glare, even as her feet tried to shy her away. "I can't believe I liked you," she told Sophie angrily, and then refused to look at her altogether. I felt Eliot shift behind me and moved to cover him, remembering the situation at the MFA. No way of knowing if she'd remember him from it.

Hardison blew out a low breath and rubbed at the side of his face. I could only imagine what the conversation on his earbud was like. Ford wasn't speaking through the mirror shards - there were too many people around that might have heard him, with so many of us put together, but I was pretty certain Parker wouldn't take this one lying down.

"Are we to trust the word of a human in this matter?" the twin to the fey memory-eater asked. She was wearing a gown in every shade of gray and silver and looked both inhuman and beautiful. Somehow Sophie still managed to outmatch her in elegance.

"Doctor Jessamine Lochlin has made it her life's goal to be the world's foremost Sokolov expert," Sophie fired back before anyone else could. "If you believe you can produce someone better, please. Do."

The fey woman looked away, pissed. Her twin grinned, examining both Sophie and Jess with open interest.

For a moment, the only sounds were those of the breeze coming through the open windows, the distant surf across the gardens. No one said a word, and I wasn't entirely sure half the audience was even breathing. We all watched and waited as the young woman examined every inch of the portrait and its lavishly carved, antique wooden frame. I saw her expression fall but, stubbornly, she checked and double-checked before she took three steps back. "It's a fake," she declared, not quite able to hide her heartbreak.

Koschei lunged at her. I'm not sure what I was thinking, I'm not sure I was thinking at all, but before I knew what I was doing I'd taken two long steps and was between him and Jess. He bared his teeth at me and I knew I had about two seconds before he threw a spell on me point-blank. So I grinned at him. "We're still all your guests here, aren't we?"

He froze, hands curled into fists. "So you are," he ground out, and took a step back.

It struck me then. That was it. That was why I kept walking away, that was why I kept surviving. In all his centuries Koschei had gotten comfortable knowing no one could challenge him if he bent or twisted the rules to serve his own interests. But I was a wizard. I could call him out, and I had, every time. Ironically, my time under the Damocles Doom had taught me to slide right up to the very limit of what wizardly law had to tolerate without crossing a line. Koschei could pretend he was still within the law and force acceptance by sheer firepower. I didn't. I knew to the millimeter what I could get away with without ever lifting a finger for a spell.

And he hated it. He hated that I was outright calling him out on it every. single. time. But he couldn't do anything about it, because he was technically not a criminal, and that was important to him. That facade was vital to the man and he would do anything to preserve it.

Even back off from a staredown with the hobo-looking wizard from Chicago.

I could feel hands gripping the back of my duster in a white-knuckled grip, and turned a little. Jessamine Lochlin was ashen and terrified, but she was on her feet and not gibbering, and honestly I counted that a win even as my heart went out to her. I could see why Parker liked her, too; to have finagled an invite to the party just to try and get close to the portrait? She was made of titanium. "You alright, miss?"

She looked up at me and managed a little nod. That was all the communication we managed before two of the toad's bodyguards came to shepherd her away.

"Mister Stone," Koschei called out to one of the hulking behemots passing off as a security guard. "Close the house, please. Security at every door and window."

"Wizard, what do you think you're doing?" Ying Ying demanded.

"Recovering my stolen property," he ground out. "The real portrait was here. Now it is not. I have been robbed, and I intend to find out who, and how, and why -"

"Rot the portrait!" Another man said. "How dare you presume to imprison us -"

"I will not be accused of theft!" Sophie declared, utterly outraged.

Hardison moved closer to Koschei. "My good sir," he informed the wizard as primly as possible. "Unless you believe I'm hiding Piotr Sokolov's largest work in one of my pockets, I will be leaving now. I don't know what game you think you're playing here, but it's uncalled for. It's…" He groped for a word, and finally declared. "It's rude. You will be hearing from my office about this matter. Good day, sir."

He stalked off. One of the security people moved to stop him, but Koschei gestured impatiently to let him go. Hardison wasn't even out of sight and he already had his phone in his hand, and not a single one of the guests there spared a thought for that. Me, I didn't even try to figure out what sort of digital magic he was about to wreak on the gathering.

A very heavy hand dropped on my bad shoulder. I couldn't quite keep from wincing, but I did a passable job of not making a sound. "Mister Koschei would like a word with you in private, wizard," the man said, low and indifferent.

I'd barely looked back before Eliot had grabbed the wrist of the security man in an equally heavy grip. "You don't want to do that," he said very mildly.

Half a dozen heads, those with supernaturally keen hearing, turned immediately in our direction. The security man, who was my height and built like a Cold War bunker, took one look at Eliot and scoffed.

The hitter shifted his grip a little bit. The next thing I knew he'd peeled the man off of me and had his arm twisted at an impossible angle. The security goon crashed down to one knee with a startled, pained howl.

"I did ask nicely first," Eliot declared amicably.

"You did," I confirmed, but the other two security with us were already rousing angrily, and I could see three more coming at us through the crowd. "Let him up, though. Koschei might be selling duds, but I don't wanna get on the bad side of the Dredgers if we break something."

Eliot held his grip just a second longer, to make his point, before he let go. The man reeled back, and one of his buddies helped him up. I stepped forward to keep things somewhat under control. "I'll be happy to speak with wizard Koschei," I assured them sunnily. "Lead on." One of them gestured me on; another tried to block Eliot's path. "My bodyguard comes with me, of course."

The hitter looked up very levelly at the guard. "Are we doing this?" He was still perfectly calm, but there was murder in his eyes.

The guard stepped back, and we were both shepherded away.

THIRTY THREE

Alexander Worthington (the Third), stalked out of the mansion speaking irately into his phone, past the pack of door guards, who did nothing more than stare indolently after him. He made it to a nondescript black rental before he dropped the accent and the pretense. "Alright, Nate, I'm out," he informed the mastermind as he got in the car, popped an earbud in and drove sedately away - directly into the parking lot where Lucille 2.0 and the U-Haul van were parked.

Not a moment later a tousled, breathless man came charging down the hallway and up to the door, looking slightly rumpled. "The portrait's missing," he wheezed to the woman in charge. "No one leaves, by the wizard's orders."

They blinked at him, and he could all but see their heart sinking. "The Christie's man just left," the lead security woman informed him, sounding and looking aghast.

"What?!"

"He just -"

"Well, go! Go find him! Stop him!" Nate turned and trotted back into the manor as the woman started barking orders. "And don't let anyone else leave!" He shifted to a more leisurely walk just in time to meet the security guard he'd narrowly avoided when sneaking in, coming down to warn the door guards of the same thing. He nodded politely at the man and headed further in.

The guard put a hand out. "No one is to leave, sir."

"Oh, I'm not - I'm not leaving," Nate assured him. "I just got here, is the auction over already?" The thing was, Nate was coming from the right direction. He was dressed the part, he wasn't trying to leave, he didn't ring any warning bells. He'd snuck in with the slimmest of margins, directly behind the door guards but just ahead of the arriving guard, the only weak point in security at that moment, knowing he needed them both to see him at the right time, at the right place.

The guard grimaced and stepped away. "No, it hasn't started, go on, sir."

"Thank you," Nate watched the man hurry away. "Alright, who's free?"

"I'm with Nick in the dining room, by the bar," Sophie murmured. "Fedorov's putting pressure on his uncle. He's going to get the truth out of the man sooner or later."

"We're going a whole lot further into the house than the guests were allowed," Eliot commented casually. The mastermind heard the voice of one of the guards, the words impossible to make out; the mirror shards had a lot less peripheral range than the earbuds.

"I'm ready down here," Parker reported. She sounded cold and distant; Nate knew that finding out her friend was in the line of fire had shifted the thief's priorities radically.

To be fair, it had shifted his own priorities as well. Nate paused at the door to the main room, where tempers were fraying and moods were disimproving. The guards were just finishing closing off the windows. He moved out of the way of another woman who was closing the door with a quiet, polite apology, and headed to the bar.

He'd had to cut Dresden's part short; he could only hope it'd be enough. The last window latch fell, the last heavy, ancient door closed. "Go ahead, Parker."

Boston's older buildings, for the most part, had either radiators or floor-level heating systems. Both worked more or less the same way: a heated medium was run through a pipe surrounded by heat-dispersing fins. The system subscribed to the true-and-tried adage: if it ain't broke, don't fix it. But modern, wealthy homes were often moved to the more familiar HVAC system, which were more efficient, quieter, simply pumping heated or cooled air as needed through vents - the same vents Parker had been using to peer around the mansion.

Those vents quietly, efficiently went to work pumping cooled air into the room as soon as all the doors and windows shut.

"Well, now." Koschei turned to look at his very angry, very captive audience.

Ekaterina coughed delicately into one hand. Fedorov leaned attentively close with a question, but she shook her head and murmured an easy reply.

"I should like my portrait back, if you please," the wizard declared. "I would prefer it happen before one must resort to violence."

"Resort fuckin' away," Classy challenged from the back of the crowd.

One of the fey twins coughed, startling her sibling into giving her a puzzled look. She looked no less surprised herself; she'd nearly dropped the champagne flute she was carrying.

"Mister Act, as I have told you, I have not touched any of your belongings -"

"Yeah? What about the one you already t- " Classy suddenly choked, hawked and spat off to one side, squinting. "The hell."

Ekaterina coughed again. This time, she didn't manage to stop, and had to lean on Vanya's shoulder.

"Come on," Nate murmured.

"It will be returned at the end of the night, as promised. Now, if you don't mind -"

"It was s'posed t' -" Classy coughed roughly, but his anger carried him on. "Supposed to be ret-" A coughing fit caught him. The fey woman was all but clinging to her twin, and they were not the only ones. The toad wasn't coughing, but all of his bodyguards were. Nearly all of Ying Ying's party was beginning to choke. Nick cleared his throat pointedly.

"What is this?" the toad demanded; he'd gone slightly grey with alarm.

"Come on, come on," Nate urged.

Ekaterina opened her mouth, but Classy beat her to the punch, his voice a snarl as he and his group retreated against a wall. "He's usin'… he's usin' a fuckin' Witchwell t' p… t' poison the lot of us!"

"He did this back at the museum, to steal the portrait," Ekaterina wheezed. "Did you think we would not notice you trying to kill us? What were you going to do, Blackbird, loot the corpses?"

"I have done no such thing!" Koschei exclaimed. "I don't even have the damned thing! Everyone here would be affected, I would be affected!"

"Unless you knew what was coming," Vanya pointed out. "Unless you protected yourself and your friends. All those people you introduced me to, they are not affected."

The crowd glanced around. Without hesitation, sudden and absolute battle-lines were drawn up when Fedorov's words rang true: a small number of people who were, very much, not of the average human variety, found themselves suddenly surrounded and outnumbered two-to-one by their angry, coughing peers. The twins shoved at each other, hissing, hands turned to claws. The one member of Ying Ying's entourage that wasn't coughing was suddenly ringed by lambent-eyed vampires.

The fey in the blood-red tux caught his sister with one arm when she collapsed down on one knee, unable to fight him. He picked up an elegant antique chair with his free hand and flung it at a window. Glass shattered explosively; two of the security guards charged at him. He caught one by the throat like a stoat catches a vole and flung him at his counterpart, sending them both tumbling.

"Carevogh!" Koschei roared. "Don't you dare!"

"Bite me, Crow," the fey snapped back coolly, picked up his sister in a bridal carry, and leapt out the window.

"Stone!" Koschei bellowed. The security forces converged on him, which was good, because a lot of angry guests were beginning to advance on the wizard, too.

"Alright, Parker, that's good. Shut it off and get out." He got out of the way of a very large woman escorting what looked like a child, until one noticed the porcelain gloss of her skin and the clicking joints on every limb. The woman kicked open the door and Nate left her to it while he worked his way along the perimeter of the room, further into the mass of frustrated guests. This, he knew, was the most dangerous part for him. One stray look from Koschei and the wizard might well figure out the trap.

But Koschei was too busy trying to keep the guests from scattering. "Mazarena!" The wizard shouted.

"Keep me out of you schemes, wizard," the animated doll said in a clipped, mechanical voice, and trotted out. "I came here to bid, not to thin out your enemies for free."

"On it," Parker declared, just in time for the earbuds to screech angrily and collapse into static. Nate kept his hands firmly in his pockets, but it was a close thing. "Hardison?"

"She's offline," the hacker replied, his voice tight.

Nate finally got close enough to Classy and his people. He unlatched the window and threw it open, and lent both his hands to steadying two of the strangers until they were all but sitting on the windowsill. On the other side of the room Fedorov had yanked one of the decorative runners off a table and was using it to cover one of the vents. Nick and Ekaterina were by one of the windows. The vampires had tried to bully their way closer but one flat, level look from Nick, along with that unnerving smile, had led them to instead force open the doors to another room.

Nate paused. "Where's Sagorov?" He helped Classy up along with the one woman in his band, pulled him up close and whispered something very quickly against the Dredger's ear before hurrying away, leaving him staring after the mastermind in disbelief.

Fedorov brought Ekaterina a drink. They both whirled around at the sound of a yelp, just in time to watch Koschei slip away in the midst of a pack of security guards, dragging Jess along with him. The doors were slammed shut behind them. The main room was turning into a riot. "Bugger. Nate, Koschei just slipped away, and he took Jess."

"He's tracking the portrait." That was Dresden, barely speaking over a breath. "He just triggered my marker on it."

"Parker," Nate hissed, hoping against hope. There was, unsurprisingly, no answer. "Dresden, is there any way you can slow him down?"

"Um." He heard the wizard blow out a sharp breath. "Hardison, is there a sprinkler system?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, no, no. We're not using water until we know the watercolor is safe," Nate hurried to head that particular train off at the pass, even as his brain caught onto the fact he'd refused to see. Running water, the mastermind realized, and on the heels of that understanding he grimaced. He was doing it again, trying to explain things away, trying not to see them, not to hear them, not to know them. And he was costing himself and his team options in doing so. He closed his eyes and counted his blessings on Dresden. The wizard was working against Nate's own blinders, but what would happen if he tripped on a problem that didn't have a solution Dresden could improvise on the fly?

"Alright." Hitter and wizard had both retreated to one corner of the fancy drawing room where they'd been brought, but even so neither of them dared speak too loudly, not knowing if the guards would have keen enough hearing to catch them at it. Dresden tipped his fancy chair back until Eliot was sure he was going to topple backwards, and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Hardison, where's the closest big electrical junction?"

"Let me stop you right there," the hacker said. "Harry, I need power to manipulate the systems inside the house, I can't have you frying the electrical."

"I'm not gonna fry it," Dresden whispered mildly. "You're gonna make it look like I did."

"Oh, I like that. Finally we're meeting somewhere in the middle." Hardison sounded delighted. "East wall, about ten feet from the windows.

"How's that going to stop Koschei?"

"It won't. Nothing we can do is gonna stop him. But he's a man same as you and me and everyone, Ford. He needs eyes to see, he can't use a flashlight, and right now any magic he didn't have prepared beforehand is going to be a little hard for him. You didn't ask me to stop him, you know better. You asked me to slow him down." Harry rolled to his feet; the guards immediately turned in his direction, and he gestured at an elegant gingerbread cabinet. "I'm just going here. You know, looking for something to drink or something?"

The guards relaxed minutely. In the spirit of pretending Harry was still a guest, not a prisoner, they hadn't frisked him or Eliot, and were treating them both like live IEDs. They also didn't know enough about human habitats to realize a doily-covered gingerbread chest of drawers wasn't likely to be a fine repository for booze, and lost interest quickly in what the wizard was doing.

Until he leaned against the wall next to the cabinet, and every light in the mansion went out.

"Oh." Dresden said. "Can someone point me to my chair?"

"Dresden." Eliot sounded as if the last of his patience had run out several hours ago. "Get over here and siddown."

Nate, downstairs, met up with Sophie, Fedorov and Nick just before the lights went out. The Russian enforcer was scowling at his phone. "My uncle isn't answering," he told the mastermind. "I think once again you have brought me a truth I didn't want to hear."

"Oh, I'm so sorry we didn't let him raffle you off like a prize bull," Sophie declared tartly and he gestured appeasingly at her.

"Unless he can leave the grounds he's a problem that can wait." He turned to Nick. "We need to find Dresden, fast. Can you take us to him?"

"Sure." Nick shrugged and began to walk away. "I'm a little off from the flower stuff, but he's got a strong scent to him." At the far end of the dining room, two of the security guards were watching the door they needed. One put a hand up preemptively. Nick picked him up and threw him through the door. The other guard backed warily away and he smiled that wildly cheerful smile at her. She backed away another couple of steps.

They all walked on by the light of Fedorov's phone. Behind them, Vanya had finally gotten through to someone; he spoke in clipped, coldly angry Russian very briefly before hanging up. In the brief pause between his ending the call and reactivating the flashlight, Nate noticed something. "Sophie, you're um. You're glowing."

They paused. Fedorov turned off the flashlight. In the dark, the shades of blue of the spider-silk gown gleamed like the last gasps of sunlight through deep water.

"I'm not doing that," she breathed.

"You're doing strong magic," Nick said mildly as he sniffed at a crossing of hallways. "The silk's reacting to it, soaking it up."

"Strong -" The grifter's hand wrapped around the diamond she wore.

"Nate." Hardison's voice was low and worried. "The emergency GPS tracker on Parker's phone just went off."

The mastermind paused. He and Hardison were the only ones at the moment with both a working earbud and a pair of mirror shards. He gave Parker enough time to sound off. She didn't. "Eliot. We're coming to get Dresden. I need you to get to that tracker."

Eliot turned to look at the man sitting next to him. No one had bothered to make light of any kind; the guards either didn't need it or didn't care. In the dim glow coming through the windows, starlight and moonlight, the wizard's profile looked refined, ascetic, ancient as a knight errant keeping his midnight watch. But this was still Harry Dresden, professional wizard, and no matter what sort of power he could sling he was also the man that kept getting run through a meat grinder every time Eliot took his eyes off him.

Without looking at the hitter, Harry gave him a tiny nod.

Eliot rolled to his feet. The guards instantly tensed up. "Relax, relax, I just gotta, you know. Been drinking a little too much champagne. Where's, uh -" One of the guards nodded to another, who huffed minutely and moved to open the door for Eliot. The hitter glanced idly at him. "Alright. Didn't realize I needed a babysitter to use the bathroom."

"Walk, Spencer."

"Where, man, I can't see, and my phone," he gestured pointedly at the wizard, "bit it."

"Not my problem."

Eliot scoffed, thinking hard about the crash course Harry had given him on the many beings likely to be used as security, aside from leshy, by Koschei. The man was too big to be one of the hare-folk. The clothes were good, but they were definitely clothes - not a golem. The fingers were normal, no extra joints - not a ghoul or a gaunt. Normal teeth - not a were or a vampire. Gloved hands, but the shape of the claws was subtly visible.

"Hey, Eliot, catch." Dresden threw something small and shiny at the hitter. The guard intercepted it, opened his hand, and sniffed thoroughly at it before licking it. "Jeez, Godzilla, it's just a box of matches."

The guard growled and handed the matches over. Eliot grinned at Harry's help. It had been startling as hell to realize his reputation stretched into territory he'd only ever suspected existed, but at the moment that was a hindrance, not a bonus. Unlike most humans, who saw him as a challenge to be conquered, Koschei's security forces were instead brutally cautious of his every move. The hitter was getting nearly as much attention as Dresden, if not more. He flicked the lighter on and headed out into the darkness of the mansion's hallways. Somewhere in the mid-distance it sounded like a small riot was going on, but in their immediate vicinity all was quiet.

They made it to the bathroom on a single flickering light, and Eliot glanced at the, presumably, reptilian creature with him. "You gonna come in with me?" he mocked lazily.

His escort scowled at him, peered into the bathroom, saw a window and stepped in.

"Hey!" Eliot protested.

Unsurprisingly, he was ignored. It was likely to be the only half-second of diffidence his escort was going to give him, because the thug knew Eliot was going to complain, knew the hitter wouldn't like the situation. It was a protest he was expecting. What he was not expecting was the hitter to whip around, a blur of motion, slamming the flat of his hand against the guard's throat. Twice. Eliot stepped further into his opponent's reach when the guard staggered and gagged, one hand groping at his throat, the other grabbing for his attacker. He hooked a foot behind the one joint he knew for sure the guard had on his leg and shoulder-checked him. The man crashed down into the sink, spine leading. Eliot elbowed him through the porcelain sink.

And still the man was trying to get up, grabbing for him. Helpfully, the hitter picked him up and kicked him hard into the tub. Tangled up in the shower curtain, the guard was still feebly trying to come at him, so Eliot picked up the cover of the toilet tank and swung like a baseball pro. The cover shattered. So did the glamour, finally, revealing a heavily scaled, noseless face with awkward proportions, a mouth full of peg teeth, beady eyes and, surreally, a battered toupee. The guard sank into a groaning heap.

"Yeah, you do that," Eliot said, throwing the pieces of the toilet cover on top of the creature before he charged out of the bathroom, fishing his earbud out of one pocket and putting it in place. "Where, Hardison?"

"Basement," the hacker replied.

"Ok, Nate, I'm on my way."

Nate, Sophie and Fedorov were still following Nick as he single-mindedly moved through the house. They surprised a trio of people who were, apparently, using the distraction from the blackout to try and get away. Nick caught one; Fedorov stepped forward and punched another, hard. The stranger crashed down with a startled little squawk. The third tried to run, and went down in a tangle when Nick threw their buddy at them.

Sophie stared at Fedorov, who lifted a hand and tightened it into a fist around the gleaming knuckledusters in it. "I had a very enlightening conversation with your wizard," he said mildly. "And I know a few priests."

"Do you solve all your problems by throwing people?" Nate asked Nick with utmost courtesy.

Nick shrugged. "When I'm not allowed to bite 'em." He sniffed at the air and resumed walking.

They'd made it halfway up the stairs when Harry's voice came through the mirror shards, a lazy drawl laced heavily with sarcasm. "Is this how you treat your guests, Blackbird? Who's your friend?"

"Stop," Nate put a hand over the pin on his lapel and snapped out the one word. "Koschei's not looking for the painting, he's with Dresden."

"Nate." Eliot's voice was tight and furious. "I'm here, but I don't know what Parker tagged, it's just a basement."

Hardison's phone, back in Lucille 2.0, rang. He snatched it up when he saw the ID and hit the speaker feature. "Parker! Wher-"

"I am not Parker," the stern voice of an older woman with a thick accent whispered.

Everyone who could came to a halt. "Hardison, go on." There was a steady, subtle crackle of static to the earbuds, but they were hanging in there. The mirror shards could barely pick up the voice on Parker's phone, but it was enough for Sophie to have gone perfectly still, her face carved in ice. She and the wizard were the only ones without an earbud.

Hardison pressed his lips into a tight line before he spoke. "Grandmother, I presume?"

"Yes," the woman whispered.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

A small, wryly amused sound came through the line and the phone flickered, the connection faltering. "I was hurt long before I was brought to this place," the woman said. "But thank you. I do not know who you are, or why you care, you and your princess, but thank you."

"Hardison," Eliot ground out.

"Ma'am, we're actually here to get you out," the hacker informed her.

"Yes, she said that. But I do not see how."

"Where are you?"

"There is a small room beneath the house, behind the old iron heat bellows and pipes," she reported

"Eliot."

"On it." The hitter started moving again. "Hardison, tell her to get to some cover."

"Ma'am -"

"No, no, it is not me you should be helping, but the princess, the prince. They should not have come. He has always been greedy for such people, such power."

"What do you mean, what happened to Parker?" The hacker was trying to remain focused, but his worry was beginning to froth over.

"Is that her name?" she asked gently, and the tone soothed him back under control.

"Yes."

"You care for her."

"Yes, ma'am, I do."

The phone crackled angrily. "I do not think your little device likes me very much. I am not diminished enough for it to work much longer. She found me while she was hiding down here, among the pipes. But the leshy heard her, too."

"Can you get somewhere… out of the way, ma'am?" Hardison asked cautiously.

"I am in a bathroom. I am an old lady, splashing water on my face. All this iron, you know, it makes me ill." She sounded terribly amused.

"Stay there. It's gonna be safer for you."

"You must help your princess -" Hardison's phone suddenly went dark, the line lost.

#the dresden files #leverage #my writing #fanfiction #crossover #harry dresden #nathan ford #sophie deveraux #parker #eliot spencer #alec hardison #urban fantasy

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bitchinbarzal · 4 months

Text

LULU’S MONTH OF

LOVE 💌

it's the month of love!

this prompt list has the same rules as normal, if you're not familiar please recap below;

when requesting please send in the full prompt and not just the number. this makes it easier for me, the writer. if you don't do this and just send the number your request will be deleted no questions asked.

you can find my list of who I write for here or you can send in for AU’s 💌 👼🏼

1. "I used to hate this holiday a much before I met you"

2. cheesy valentines proposal

3. "I knew these were your favorite flowers, so I had to get them for you"

4. "I don't need anything material, I just want a whole day to have you by my side and celebrate our love"

5. "really can't think of anything more romantic than officially dating my favorite person on this day"

6. "She's my tiny valentines!"

7. "He's my tiny valentines!"

8. "I haven't gotten a valentine's card since elementary school, but wow, this was my first real one"

9. Valentine's Day baby

10. "I love you so much for this but I am not cleaning up all these scattered petals later"

11. "is proposing on this day a bit too cheesy? look at the ring I got them, though"

12. "it's my first time having someone to celebrate valentine's day with. that makes it extra special!"

13. "in my defense, they didn't have a smaller teddy bear in stock. hope you have some space in your bedroom"

14. " promise it's a nice thing. just close your eyes and don't cheat!"

15. "it's so nice being able to call you my valentine"

16. "valentine's cards aren't outdated, right? it's something everywould would like to receive, right?"

17. "good morning! do you know what day it is today? по? well, guess you're in for a surprise, then"

18. "yes. yes, I'll be your valentine!"

19. "have the people who make these cheesy movies seen how real people spend valentine's day?"

20. "if we're gonna pretend to be a couple, you need to let me get you a bouquet at least. it's february 14th!"

21. "It's Valentines day today?"

22. "I made dinner reservations." "So did I. Surprise?"

23. "Supri- oh shit you're not [name]?

24. "There are flowers on the doorstep." "Who from?" "| think that you have a secret admirer."

25. "So is that a yes?"

26. "Hey, the movies made this look so easy!"

27. "You told me you wanted cliche, so I got you a teddy bear."

28. 'Im sorry, but have you ever looked in a mirror?'

29. Post-it-notes

30. "I've been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you're going to look so good and I need to try and match up."

31. "Your lips are really warm."

32. "Why are you holding a blindfold?"

33. "This isn't how I pictured our first Valentine's day."

34. "You don't think you went maybe a bit overboard?"

35. "This reminded me of you."

36. "I never thought driving around could be romantic"

37. "do you love me or chocolate more?"

38. "Will you be my Valentine…forever"

39. "hi, my love."

40. "come on, we're going to be late!"

41. "you're so prettv..."

42. "well don't you look nice."

43. "how did you manage to do all of this?"

44. "whatever you want, it's yours."

45. "i must have done something amazing to deserve someone like you."

46. "you made this?"

47. " this our what? third year celebrating together?"

48. "you're beautiful."

49. " know you don't like chocolate so...i have enough conversation hearts to last us three months."

50. "you guys make me sick."

51. "we get it. you're in love. go make out over there or something..."

52. "be my valentine?"

53. "if you don't hurry up and ask them out, i will"

54. Taking your daughter on her first valentines date

55. "Wanna get a coffee with me?"

56. "Have dinner with me. Tonight."

57. "Do you want your present or not?"

58. "I guess we'll just have to share the bed."

60. "Don't tempt me."

61. "Admit it, there's something between us."

62. "I'm your secret admirer."

63. "Don't give me that look."

64. "Wait. Is this a date?"

65. "Wanna bet on it?"

66. "Come on... you know you want me."

67. "I need to tell you something."

68. "Can I kiss you?"

69. "Something tells me that you have a crush on me."

70. "You know you can't resist me."

71. "How can someone be so hot yet so clueless?"

72. "Any excuse to get me to undress, huh?"

73. "I'm in love you with you, you idiot!"

74. "In your dreams, darling."

75. "You know I'm a romantic at heart."

76. "This is the best day ever."

77. "You scrub up pretty well."

78. "Hey! You're on my side of the bed."

79. "I have a surprise for you."

80. "See? I can play nice sometimes."

81. "Please, don't leave."

82. "I don't believe you."

bitchinbarzal

83. "I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

84. "Will you please just talk to me?"

85. "I didn't mean to upset you."

86. "Don't think I haven't noticed how you look at me."

87. "You're obviously in love with me."

88. "I think you're my favourite person in the entire world."

89. "Damn, you look incredible."

90. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes."

91. "This is... unexpected."

92. "Have you told anyone about us?"

93. "Let's make it official."

94. "Are you wearing a suit?"

95. "Your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner doesn't need to know about this."

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techav · 1 year

Text

Extra Thinky Bits

Ever since I built my 68000 computer, I've used a BASIC Mandelbrot rendering program I got from RosettaCode as a test benchmark. On the 6MHz 68000 it took nearly 10 minutes to run. With the 68030 running at 56MHz using a 32-bit data bus with L1 cache enabled, the same BASIC program completed in around 14 seconds.

But we can do better. EhBASIC is written in assembly to use 32-bit single-precision floating point numbers internally, but all of its mathematical routines use the CPU's integer ALU. There are large sections of code that could theoretically be replaced by single instructions for the 68882 floating point math coprocessor (FPU).

Adding the FPU is where I stopped on my original wire-wrapped prototype. I simply never could get it working reliably. I've since learned that I had some logic errors that were probably causing more trouble than my chosen method of prototyping. But this meant it was probably best to start over, and if I'm starting over, a custom PCB with a CPLD to handle logic & timing would be much easier, much more flexible, and much more reliable.

Another tumblr user, Avics1967, had pointed out that logic error to me a while back. It turns out the 68882 FPU is picky about the setup time relationship between the FPU's Chip Select signal and the CPU's Address Strobe signal. Basically, the Chip Select signal can't be transitioning at the same time that the Address Strobe signal is falling, and there's a few nanoseconds on either side of that AS# transition where the CS# signal must be stable. My original design didn't take this into account.

This setup time target ended up being harder to hit than I anticipated. With my little system running at 40MHz, there is just 12.5ns between the CPU asserting the address bus and the CPU asserting its Address Strobe. I need to allow about 3ns for the FPU Chip Select signal to be stable before AS# falls.

I'm using a 10ns CPLD for logic.

My first draft for the logic also did not meet timing requirements, and with my bus speed and parts on hand it never would. Luckily, the 68882 also supports what Motorola called "Late Chip Select", where the CS# signal could be asserted after AS#. So that's what I ended up doing — I implement a delay synchronous to the CPU clock to assert CS# half a clock after AS#.

I ran into an interesting problem while testing though. I assembled a short program to add 2+3 and store the result in memory where I could check if the result of 5 was stored properly. What I got instead was an endless chain of bus errors. If I hit reset quickly enough I could see the very first error was actually an Address Error, and then came the endless chain of Bus Errors.

This made no sense. The FPU can generate some exceptions, like the Coprocessor Protocol Violation I had gotten with my last prototype. And if there was a problem with my logic, a Bus Error might be thrown if the FPU wasn't detected or didn't respond in time. But an Address Error?

Turns out the FPU wasn't the problem at all. There was a typo — a single missing # — in my monitor which caused the CPU to try to load an odd instruction as a pointer instead of the actual pointer to the exception handler routine. So something was indeed causing an exception, but I couldn't see what the exception actually was because it was immediately followed by an Address Error which also spawned a Bus Error.

Thankfully, my exception table is in RAM, so I was able to patch it live before running my test program. And the next time I tried testing the FPU? It worked!

I have no idea what was causing the initial exception, but the FPU has been working for me since.

Now it's time to write some more sophisticated programs to really test the FPU, and maybe modify BASIC to use the FPU instead of its built-in arithmetic functions.

#vintage computing #homebrew computer #mc68882 #mc68030 #motorola 68k

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meefy · 2 years

Text

Brief Obi Thoughts...

Manga spoilers up to and including Ch. 40 ahead!

I've been thinking a lot about the scene in Akagami no shirayukihime Chapter 26 where Obi tells Shirayuki her thoughts "don't matter".

In Ch. 26, we see Obi telling Shirayuki, point blank, that her feelings (i.e., that she isn't angry at him for failing to prevent her kidnapping) don't enter into his mind when he considers his failure as her bodyguard. Now, considering how loyal to Zen (and doting on Shirayuki) Obi clearly is, I can see it being easy to mistake this scene as Obi being coldly dismissive of Shirayuki’s feelings - but I don't think that's it at all, and I'm disappointed that the anime changed the line (where he instead reassures her that he would never say such a thing).

Not knowing Obi’s backstory when he first appeared, I hazarded a guess early on in the story that wherever he grew up, he was taught that his feelings don't matter. He probably got into working as a hitman very young (canonically as young as 18) and we see him in a flashback in Ch. 32 very seriously hurt yet only focusing on the fact he had completed his mission.

That was enough to satisfy him.

In Ch. 32's present, he is surprised when people (Zen and Shirayuki) are worried about him going missing. And, much earlier in Laxd, he doesn't understand why Shirayuki isn't mad at him for shooting an arrow at her - because after, all isn't that the logical reaction? The notion that, "Oh, these people consider me more than just a bodyguard or assassin and actually have emotions" does not truly seem to cross his mind till 30+ chapters into the story.

At which point, him telling Shirayuki "no" when she asks if her thoughts matter makes sense.

He's not only been taught that his feelings don't matter, but that the feelings of others don't matter, either. It's why he lies so easily (using aliases, or giving fake intentions to the sailors as he searches for Kazuki, for example) and can ask such blunt questions - he is so detached from his own emotions and those of others that their reactions don't matter. He never gets close to anyone - and when you aren't worried about seeing someone ever again, it's easier to lie and offend them than it is with someone you care deeply about.

He's been taught the only thing that matters is getting a mission done - hence his not caring about being injured in his past, hence his telling Shirayuki that he failed her and that her forgiveness is thus meaningless. But Zen - and Shirayuki - are also different. They are not his "employers", by his own admission, but his "masters". They give him a sense of "home" and stability he has never had. I would, in fact, confidently suppose that it is because Obi cares for Shirayuki that he beats himself up so severely; he failed his mission to protect her - and as such, his caring about her, and her forgiveness of him, don't enter into his mind - at least, not at first.

But the reality is, he didn't just fail a mission, he failed one of the first people he has ever allowed himself to grow any sort of attachment to.

Obi developing a reciprocal bond with Zen and Shirayuki over time shows his growth as a person beyond a robotic killer-for-hire. And his going from "No, I don't care about your thoughts" to letting himself be held by Zen and Shirayuki in Ch. 40 (after assuring Zen that he isn't sick, that he has recovered, because he knows Zen will worry and he cares about what Zen thinks) shows so much of his emotional growth over such a short period of time. I'm proud of him!

#akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #swwtrh #obi swwtrh #obi akagami no shirayukihime #meefymeta

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lord-pigeon · 5 months

Note

The thing you're not getting about why genshin is worse is because events are not meant to be the primary source of quartz in fgo. It comes from your weekly log in, live streams, 50 day ten pull, ascending servants to their second last ascension, story quests, free quests and the ten quartz you get from doing ten of them, rank up and interludes and the quartz you also get for doing ten of those, and special occasions like anniversary and new year. If you do ten rank ups you get a ten pull and you can do this in maybe an hour or two, now try grinding a ten pull in genshin. It'll be a lot more time investing and taxing considering you're just pressing buttons in fate. Also genshin's odds are just lower and it bleeds whales way harder by making constellations do more than just damage and they make modern 4 stars suck without them. Yes genshin has a better pity but that isn't the be all end all, you need to get 5 copies to max a 5 star in fate where as genshin its 6 AND 5 copies of their weapons. I could keep going on about ways that it's worse all day long, especially when genshin has way more micro transactions and predatory practices like battlepasses and resin but take that fate is worse is utterly baffling tbh

Oh boy let's get into the math here because this is where the fun begins.

Don't get me wrong, I'll never defend Genshin's dogshit practices, but I have a personal grudge against FGO fans sucking on it when it's literally the bastard of the mainstream bunch. This argument is me pitting garbage against garbage to say which one is stinkier.

This gonna be long so I'm putting this under a cut:

Alright FGO dailies list (I'll use NA for FGO, since Genshin is a global server schedule):

Day 2=1 SQ, Day 4=1 SQ, Day 6=2 SQ and Day 7=Ticket (3 SQ equivalent)

Total: 7 SQ

Needed for a tenfold: 30 SQ

Weeks needed for a tenfold via Log-In alone: 4 weeks and 4 days. 32 days total.

It should be noted that if you miss a single day, it resets from the very start. You must log in no matter what. It might take but a few moments, but note, you have to.

Genshin dailies list:

10 Primos per Comm/action, total of 40, and a 20 Primo bonus for turning into Katherine

Total: 60 Primos

Needed for tenfold 1600 Primo

Weeks needed for a Log-In alone: 26 days total.

Genshin's big detriment is that while you never lose your place, you need to spend time on Commissions. It can be anywhere from 5-10 minutes, which is a bit of a serious timesink. It's a bit better with the Fontaine update but it's still a pain in the ass for those on the go.

Alright, but Lord, that's just raw Log-In, what about monthlies?

Monthlies are the same, since both give you 5 tickets/fates to use. Genshin is at the disadvantage here since you need to spend the stardust you get from summoning on it, but Fate also requires you to spend Mana Prisms. Fundamentally similar, it's just that Fate wins out by the small margin Mana Prisms are slightly easier to obtain.

What about pity?

Eat my ass, Fate's pity system just happened cause they were getting this ass beat monetarily and they gave up and did a base-tier QOL update. Six FUCKING years we waited for pity and its over 900 SQ??? ((330 pulls btw))

I saved a whole year and a half back for Musashi's inital release and I just barely had that shit. And that was events, dailies, so on and so forth. (I got her in three tickets so nobody come at me with the fact I'm just a bitter old bird who didn't get my cute girl.)

While there's the 50/50 mechanic with Genshin, that levels the idea of 180, and that's going to hard-hard pity. No matter what, you can, and will, at least get the character you want.

Now what if we include Weapon Banner, since people assume Weapons+Characters *must* go together rather than it just being BIS and disregarding the completely different game mechanics of turn-based FGO and action rpg Genshin (<bitter).

Weapon Hard Pity is 240 pulls. You get a Fate Point for 80 pulls if you don't get your directed weapon, and you get another one if you get screwed again. Two Fate Points guarantees the next 80 is what you want.

Now, that might equal 420 pulls, but there's a catch few people acknowledge: Soft Pity.

Genshin has a system that, the closer you get to that hard pity, the higher the rate goes up. Therefore, it's not often someone actually goes to the hard 80 or 90. I'm just using the hard numbers as a point.

FGO is a hard pity, nothing about the rates changes from Summon 1 to Summon 330. Plus no guarantee you actually even get something from those 330 pulls--at least in Genshin you get a Basic Banner character who has some measure of utility you can use to make progress.

Also FGO pity doesn't carry per banner, but Genshin's does, so if you get fucked over and wanna wait a few months, you have another shot instead of wasting all of it cause you got close but no cigar.

But what about upgrades? Constellations?

NP-bonuses are rather minor and not as key as say, Xiao C1 or Hu Tao C1, so FGO has the edge there. However, that leads me to the side point of:

Weapons.

Reasonably, everyone talks about how the 3-star weapons suck, yadda yadda. You get so many weapons from the game as welfare that are good and can be used by multiple characters. You don't need a 5-star weapon, just because you aren't hitting 300k a hit doesn't mean shit.

Genshin has a lot more versatility in team building than FGO tbh, since a lot of FGO's boils down to "Do you have Merlin/Skadi/Chen Gong/Waver/Tamamo/Castoria/Support Caster.png" that you can then use with any other character.

Not saying Genshin doesn't have that too with Qinqiu and Bennett, but due to the nature of Spiral Abyss, people have gotten smart about using others instead of just them cause it's a split up team system.

Citation: I didn't get a single 5-star Weapon until Year 2.5 of Genshin. Fun fact, I also didn't have a single DPS 5-star either (all I had since launch was Diluc and Venti), until fucking Cyno came out. I managed to play the game just fine.

Now in FGO NA, I was also there since Launch, and I didn't get my first SSR until the Solomon raids, in which I finally got Florence Nightingale. I was playing the game carried by Kiyohime, Salter, and throwing SQ at revives. And guides, christ, so many guides it made Arknights look elementary.

What about general SQ/Primo flow (the Anniversaries and whatnot mentioned)?

FGO, the year of 2023, had, according to a Reddit post which I can link if people want the source, is: 2571 SQ, tickets included.

This Reddit post involved Servant NP Ascension Quests, Events, Chunked Log-In Bonus, Live Streams, Bond Stuff, ect ect (also, stuff you can't do if you didn't roll them, the post was being generous with people getting what they rolled or had)

That is about 85.7 tenfolds. So, if you don't spend a penny and not miss a day of logging in, the average joe might get about 2, 3 hard pities on who they want. Presuming I'm doing the math right on that.

Genshin, in the year of 2022, had, according to another Reddit Post, roughly 100k Primogems.

That equals about 62.5 tenfolds, or over 620 Fates. Now, tossing that into the system with someone with the worst luck imaginable that wants a character, that's about the same amount of 3 to 4 guaranteed pities.

One might note that the numbers are about the same, and yeah, that checks. However, there's a lot of variables, such as Spiral Abyss for Genshin, and actually having the characters to do Interludes on.

Half-baked conclusion

FGO is a money sink, Genshin is a time sink. They both sink your serotonin. Nobody wins.

Look, I play both, I have grief with both, I have fond memories of both. I wouldn't have a stupid expensive Okada figurine sitting next to a custom Cyno plushie if I hated these games.

But they're gacha, they're both out for your money, it's just that one is just a raging cunt about the whole affair.

Reddit Post Citations:

#if theres anything I'm fucking stupid about its gacha #espeically the two i have the most time in #i been in fgo since year 1 day 1 in jp #i had two np 5 merlins before nasu took me out back with a shotgun #i was day 1 (day 4 technically cause rerolling lmao) for genshin too #theyre both my problematic dickhead comfort games #who need to be slapped for gambling crimes

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seraphtrevs · 2 years

Note

hi tell me any ignacio thought you have in your mind after reading his name, im holding you at a gunpoint you must tell me

(lack of content drives me crazy and you are a smart person with opinions ™️, have a nice day)

I often wonder why he turned to a life of crime, given what we know about his dad and how much Nacho admired him. I think he was a lot like Kim in that he looked around at the life fate had handed him and decided he wanted more.

But there's an interesting contrast with Kim because Kim grew up in poverty with an alcoholic mother. She had no stability. We can't say for sure what Nacho's childhood was like, but given that his dad owns his own business and most likely his house, I think Nacho's family did pretty well for themselves. He probably had a childhood similar to Jimmy's - stable and loving parents who may have struggled with money at times, but no one ever went hungry and they didn't have to run from landlords the way Kim had to

My headcanon is that Nacho's mother died of cancer when he was 12 or so, and it wiped out their savings. Money was definitely a source of anxiety even if they weren't dirt poor like Kim's family. Through a lot of hard work, his dad was able to avoid bankrupcy, but it turned him into a workaholic, a tendency that only got worse after his wife's death, because he didn't know how to deal with his own grief, let alone the grief of his only child

So Nacho was alone a lot. Twelve is old enough to look after himself after school, but he's still a child, and he had to do a lot of growing up by himself, even though his dad loved him and their relationship was pretty good. He hated how hard his dad worked, and he hated that it was blue collar work that didn't get the same sort of respect a white collar job would get. His dad was always beating the drum about the American dream and how hard work pays off, but Nacho saw his dad working 16 hour days, 6 days a week, always exhausted and never having time for anything or anyone else, and he decided that he would not let that become his life. He wanted more.

He could have applied himself at school - he's definitely smart enough - but studying is the same sort of grind that he wanted to avoid. It's not that he's lazy - it's just that the reward for working hard at school is to get a job that you also work hard at, every day, until you're dead. No thanks.

So I'm sure that dealing looked like an attractive alternative, plus there was the allure of being a badass gangster - someone other people admired and feared. It was also really exciting, something that the life his dad wanted for him could never be.

Since he had little parental supervision, it was pretty easy for him to fall in with the wrong crowd as a teen, and then after graduation. I think it was probably a slow slide into the criminal life - a little dealing on the side here and there

He was still working at his dad's shop and was able to balance his double life, until he started getting noticed and promoted in the drug world. His bosses loved him because he was reliable. He wasn't a junkie or a blowhard or a maniac. Tuco in particular loved him because he was so calm; all of Tuco's other toadies cowered and kissed his ass, which was actually really bad for his mood swings, because what he needed was for someone to sit with him and help him be calm, not inflame things with their own panic

At some point, Papa found out. Nacho was ashamed of himself and promised his dad he would quit. But like Jimmy, Nacho has a little color in his soul - life on the straight and narrow is crushing to him. He holds that world in contempt for the way it ground his parents down.

So back he went. But then he slowly started to realize that the life he chose wasn't any easier than the life he rejected. In many ways, it was much worse. The threat of death or jail is always right around the corner. As a very young man, maybe he felt more invincible, but at 32, he's practically an elder statesman. So many of his colleagues are dead or in jail, and he knows that his time will run out eventually, probably sooner rather than later. And that's where we find him in season 1 of BCS

#and ty! <3 #nacho varga #better call saul #asks

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leighlew3 · 1 year

Note

When I lost my father, I was a wreck. And I do mean, a fucking wreck. Like. Cried for weeks. People kept trying to take my car keys because they were afraid to let me drive. I was clinging desperately to everything of his I had. His phone. Wedding ring. Books. T-shirts. Random pieces of paper with his handwriting on it. Everything. It was very unexpected. Massive heart attack. So he was there one minute and gone the next and it flipped my world upside down. One of my friends played "grandma got run over by a reindeer" a couple months after he died and I was in hysterics over something as simple as that. I was a mess for a long time. Every father's day. Every birthday. Every death anniversary - I still refuse to work on January 7th, even though I don't normally cry anymore. It's just my thing now. You find ways to honor people. A couple years ago, I went to a Waterpark and went down this ride that I was scared of when he took me at 8 years old. We waited in line for an hour and I punked out right at the top, but I've done it now and it helped me feel close to him. Someday, you'll tell a story without sobbing. You'll remember something funny that you guys shared and you'll be able to laugh about it. I did go to therapy after he died and it did help. It does get easier. I'm 10 years out from the death of my father. 4 from the death of my mother. I turned 32 today. And I do miss them, but it's not this all encompassing thing anymore. I'm not saying you'll never hear a song and cry, but it will happen less frequently as time goes on. And if you're anything like me, you'll adopt a mindset of, 'if I can live through that, then I can make it through this' whenever you face something particularly challenging. It's a tough ride. A lot has changed for you very quickly. But you're gonna make it. It may not feel like it now or even anytime in the next couple months, but there is another side. There is an 'after' to this insurmountable loss and you will see it. I promise. Hang in there. Sending love ❤️

Thank you so much for this. Sharing this helps… more than I can express. 💜

#grief #loss

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ewwwabug · 2 years

Text

BROTHERS TIME !!!

meet Werner (first pic) and Hans! (second pic)

facts about them and basic info below! A LOT OF TEXT!!! its not fanfiction or something just very boring text with facts and short story

some simple doodles, gonna draw something with their normal height difference later

Werner Hatfield, 32 years old, human. He is also norwegian and an amputee with removable limbs!

Occupation: hired killer (kind of)

he likes: his brothers, reading, dogs, tomato juice

he doesnt like: speaking, any animals other than dogs

Werner is quite silent and unfriendly and not very emotional, also he is revengeful. He doesn't like to talk at all and especially doesn't like to make new friends. Most of all he prefers to use sign language if he has someone to talk to him so much easier to speak than words. Even if he talks normal he's laconic and talking to him will be difficult. His voice very quiet and hoarse he speaks almost in a whisper. He can't scream and raise his voice. He makes sounds when he wants to show his emotions which he can't show on his face, for example most often when he is in pain he wheezes a lot.

Werner has a brother Hans whom he didn't treat very well from the very beginning when they started living together. He was rude and sometimes even cruel he almost didn't care about Hans.

They began to live together separately from their parents when Hans turned 18 (Werner was then 22 years old) Their parents didn't let Werner live alone. They thought that Werner was not independent enough compared to Hans. So they waited for Hans to come of age so that he would be with Werner.

It was difficult for Hans to find a common language with Werner... He always wanted to get to know him better since childhood but they never spoke. Hans tried to please him as much as possible and make a good impression...

Werner liked how obedient he was and Hans liked how difficult it was to get his attention and how he slowly but surely learns about him and gets closer to Werner. But Werner is hard enough to please. He always wants everything to be perfect...

He doesn't like it when his brother does something stupid... or gets in the way... and he also doesn't like it when Hans is too obtrusive and loud which is what Hans was from the beginning. So in order to calm him down he would threaten Hans or beat him. Werner was most infuriated when Hans was too loud and when his patience ran out he could just pounce on him and start choking him with all his might until he shut up. He might take some of Hans's words as an insult so Hans could be punished separately for this although in such cases Hans didn't really understand what he had done.

But Werners attitude towards Hans began to change when he lost his first limbs (an arm and one leg)

Werner lost his limbs in a failed murder attempt. He was ordered to kill a famous reporter and biker battle judge (gonna tell you about them later, I'm gonna call them "the judge" in the text)

As soon as Werner got to the territory he was immediately attacked by a whole pack of dogs and they began to rapidly tear his arm and leg as well as his face. They tore two of his limbs to shreds... Werner tried to yell for help but he couldn't... He was helpless. As a result his gnawed limbs were cut off by the judge themself. They cut them off to put Werner out of his misery... They didn't kill him.

Werner made an appointment to meet Hans next to the judge's house but Hans only came after all this happened... Because he got lost and couldn't find the house for a long time... (silly : ( ) He was terrified and tried to help Werner and eventually dragged him home... He was very afraid of losing him but he still managed to save his life.

At first Werner couldn't just start walking in prosthetics because he had to go through some kind of rehabilitation. He didn't get out of bed at this time almost at all and was very sad he felt very weak and helpless. Hans tried to help him but Werner didn't want to accept his help...

He wanted to show Hans that even without an arm and a leg he could take care of himself... But he couldn't do it... All he could do was crawl or jump on his remaining leg. In the end he had to accept Hans's help because without him Werner is only hurting himself.

Hans began to help Werner a little. He didn't help Werner by force but only did what he asked of him. Mostly he helped him get from one room to another and sat him down. Werner didn't ask for anything else although it was difficult for Werner to ask even that, he still didn't want Hans to help him. (I mean he is ashamed to ask for help because he thinks that this way Hans will feel more and more stronger than him even though he has never felt this way and never will... Werner wants to be better than him in everything...)

After something like rehabilitation it was the time to choose prostheses for Werner because Werner wanted to live a normal life and walk normally... Werner picked up the most best option in terms of price and convenience. Prosthetics weren't too heavy, but his prosthetic leg is clearly outweighed his normal leg quite a bit so he should have just gotten used to it (although in any case he will not have time to adjust before he will lose the other leg-) Also his prosthetics had a special feature! These prosthetics aren't just stupid pieces of iron that replace your limbs and that's it. With these prosthetics he can feel touch but (unfortunately not as vividly as normal limbs)

But he can't wear prosthetics alone, these prosthetics are very difficult for him to put on himself even if he has two hands instead of one. He needs help no matter how much he wants it or not so he asks hans for help. And poor Werner can't sleep in prosthetics, it is difficult for him to sleep in prosthetics usually and his limbs are numb. So if he needs to get out of bed he asks Hans to help too. Sometimes there are cases when the prosthesis falls off because it was not attached very firmly. But this happens very rarely so it’s okay.

Gradually Werner began to get used to the fact that Hans was constantly helping him and he was no longer ashamed to ask Hans for anything. Because he understood that Hans would do almost anything for him. But he always forbids Hans to help him if he doesn't ask for it, it annoys him and Werner wants Hans to do everything only by order. Over time Werner became less angry towards Hans and even became more talkative. They started to communicate more and spend time together but Werner still preferred to use more sign language than words, most often he just whispers something in Hans's ear if he uses words. Hans began to understand him and he was very glad about it.

Werner no longer hurt Hans for nothing and he didn't inflict new injuries on him when the past ones had not yet fully healed. Sometimes he can just tie him up and watch how scared he is without causing him any harm. Sometimes he even helped treat his wounds if he made them himself or if Hans accidentally cut himself or something. He would only hurt him or punish him in some way if he left the house or didn't listen to him. In general the relationship between the brothers improved until Werner became completely dependent on Hans.

Werner began to fear that Hans would simply get tired of caring for him and leave him to live alone or go to someone else. He always forcibly kept him at home (although Hans didn't leave the house much anyway and he just don't have to go to) He was so worried about this and he started setting traps (for example bear traps) at home near places where Hans can get out of the house. His cruelest trap is like a normal bear trap only it's not very noticeable. The trap is set under a wooden floor. If Hans steps on the floor boards under which this trap is installed then he will fall into the trap. The trap will close and he will not be able to get out without help, he will definitely have lacerations. Hans had only been trapped a couple of times and there were no serious consequences even though Werner didn't always help him out of the traps. Hans could have gotten out of the bear traps himself if he tries hard enough. These traps were a stupid idea because Hans isn't even going to leave the house for nothing and he doesn't want to leave Werner.

And because of Werners cruelest trap another terrible incident occurred that deprived him of his second leg. This trap is very dangerous for Werner because hes much shorter than Hans. When Werner fell into the trap it immediately broke his leg. Werner could have got out of it and not lost his leg but he was shocked that he had fallen into his own trap so he started furiously trying to escape from his own trap making things worse. The traps blades turned Werners leg into meat that couldn't be put together even in pieces so the leg had to be amputated. Hans helped Werner out of the trap and took him to the doctor. He was with him all the time and he was very worried about him. Hans was horrified that Werner had lost another limb. After that Werner has no more legs.

Werner had to be without a prosthetic leg at all while he was undergoing another rehabilitation and waiting for his new prosthetic to be made in the full image and likeness of his previous prosthesis. Hans was very sorry that Werner lost his other leg he thought it was because of him but theres nothing he can do now all he can do is help...

There were no more traps in the house and Werner was fully convinced that Hans wouldn't leave him and wouldnt go anywhere.

Werner would very much like to be a cyborg instead of a disabled person with prosthetic limbs and deprive Hans of his limbs in order to take care of him the same way that Hans takes care of him but he would never do that. This dream will remain in his imagination he is already happy with his life...

Werner loves Hans in his own way and he can't live without him because Werner always needs help to live.

about Werner's work:

Werner sometimes gets orders to kill, for example to get debts out of other people. He doesn't work every day and sometimes orders may not arrive for weeks but what he receives is enough for him to live. He sits at home without work reads books and gets bored. On a normal working day Werner leaves the house with Hans early in the morning. They don't even have time to eat. But sometimes he leaves Hans at home alone.

Hans is considered an accomplice but he does virtually nothing and he hasn't killed anyone in his life. He can only knock someone out or hit a person if Werner asks. Hans doesn't enjoy it at all and Werner knows it so he doesn't make him do it very often. Hans doesn't watch Werner kill or torture people, he is very afraid of such things... so Werner does it all alone. Werner enjoys his job very much even though he knows what a risky job it is.

aaand some facts about him (i guess...)

his height is 5'0;

he is so heavy in his prosthetics that he even weighs the same as his brother he weighs 85 kg;

Werner suffers from dry eyes;

Werners only friend besides Hans is Varai. (also he is his "adopted" brother) they met at the only place in the area where people can buy books. The reason for the acquaintance was the books that Varai took. Their interests in reading completely coincided so it was very interesting for Werner to communicate and contact with the same educated person as himself even though its hard for him to talk.

Brothers call Varai their hypothetical brother. They performed a ritual for him to become their brother (a ritual in which they have to drink each other's blood. Varai had been through more than that, so he didn't mind LOL) One of the reasons why they did this is that Hans doesn't talk to people who are not members of their family at all, but he really likes Varai, so... Varai loves them, but unfortunately only Hans reciprocates, while Werner considers Varai a little more than a friend. Werner is also interested in Varai as an object for experiments, Werner literally wants to cut him once and see what's inside. And Varai wants to touch Werner's stumps, they are both crazy, hehe ♡

Most of all he loves reference books about medicine and biology. Moreover he willingly reads foreign class books and collections of poems and books like "flowers of evil" by Charles Baudelaire or like "exquisite corpse" by Poppy Z. Brite

a bit stuff about Hansy! (in the text about Werner enough has already been written about Hans...)

Hans Hatfield, 28 years old, human. Also norwegian, lol!

Occupation: none

he likes: his brothers, red wine and fruits

he doesn't like: strangers, all people who aren't related to him

Hans is a very family man. He's very caring and devoted to his family and is willing to sacrifice himself for it (he is so devoted to his family that he even has a tattoo of his family's coat of arms)

Hans doesn't communicate with people who aren't his relatives because he took the words of his parents that in any case you can't communicate with strangers too literally.

He always does what ask his family and hes very naive silly and obedient so he has always been parents' favourite in contrast to the Werner. Hans always wanted to understand Werner and become his friend since childhood but all attempts to speak with him was not successful

Werner hated Hans and especially the fact that "that stupid errand boy" was loved more than him.

In the end Hans only managed to get closer to him when they started living together.... Hans always wants to be closer to his relatives so this is a good opportunity to be closer. Hans does almost all the housework and helps Werner. He does almost everything that Werner tells him to do and he tries his best. He loves him very much and he can't live without him just like Werner does without him.

#oc #art #pela talks unfortunately #oc stuff #brothers time #hans hatfield #werner hatfield #varai vard #amputee #вот это я нассал #777verse

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