#my usual stream hosts are all fighting for their lives right now

[homewithmycats]

hows there 96.000 people in that stadium and nobody is livestreaming, lol?

[hanzi83]

The “Everyone Puts On an NWO  Shirt” Edition

The last blog I wrote about the right wing shift within entertainment seeping into politics was published before I saw the shit storm after “Progressive” host Cenk from TYT had to double down on what his co-host Ana Kasparian’s reactionary position is and then play the victims. Like I am sure there have been and will be bad faith actors trying to make shit worst, but most of the peers of these people were not shitting on them completely and approaching why the rhetoric is dangerous and covered it on their shows because TYT is an influential platform, you don’t believe me, watch one of their live 2 hour streams where the commercials are literally sucking their own dick about how further they were compared to other progressive movements and how many times they are right, so when they argue in bad faith, and people are telling you to reflect and reconsider the angle you are taken, if you care about the marginalized communities that you claim to fight for then why are these people becoming Bill Maher. A lot of leftists are nice about this to a fault because they don’t want to burn the bridge with TYT, but they are certainly trying to burn bridges with other leftists. Ana flat out said she is done collaborating with other leftists because they get used and get boosted up to trash them. I can understand the Jimmy Dore’s of the world doing shit like that, but the people they are claiming now called them names etc, didn’t call them names at all. Just because people call you out on your bad takes that are conveniently getting boosted up by the usual right wing suspects online, then maybe rethink your position but these people want to be known for their informative stories but incorporate shitty entertainment to get sitcom dialogue off, because that is what we need, more political commentators doing their Trump impression. Let me sum up the situation before I go further, because maybe people don’t get what is going on. I know me expressing myself via blog will make people catch feelings but anything I write or say is just my opinion and my theory. Remember people weaponized the mentally ill shit on me to discredit me but then suddenly think I am credible if I dare question conspiracy theories. The reason I want to try and explain and go through the process, because I have seen my fair share of rebranding with public figures, you start to see the trend and this one with TYT it has been one of those rebrands that feel like one of the forced things on the planet. I never seen it be so fucking transparent, and maybe that is by design because you either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain. 

So let me point out better and more informed people who have written or talked about this have done a good job  and go look at their coverage and opinions about this. I know I am not well versed in how to articulate myself at times, and there are always vultures trying to take advantage, it probably doesn’t help that I run my digital mouth when I feel people are being recruited to joining the right wing side and people will lesser of the 2 evils this shit, which they had condemned if people voted for a democrat. They spent years generalizing Trump supporters, and now when they are ready to pivot to the right, suddenly they promote peaceful shit with people who are being radicalized to tink minority groups are lesser than, So Ana from TYT, did a video a few years back about inclusive language in medical procedures to referring to trans men as birthing people, and if you are someone who has not listened to in depth politics regarding the matter from people in that community and you are genuinely confused and you consume shit through entertainment, especially Joe Rogan who seems like he knows about what happens in sports, now I don’t know shit about it, so someone who is a sports person talking about this issue I tend to stop trying to think and assume these people are experts in this shit. There are people who get funded to go more regressive attitudes and persuade people that way, so now because these issues get pushed by celebrities, who don’t play by regular rules, maybe some of the same qualities but ultimately these people all have an agenda, sure they have talent, but there is always a portion of them that is designed to persuade people, it only becomes obvious when it is something progressive pushed, and if you need an art form to specifically blame, it will be hip hop a lot of the time. So when most people in general don’t care about this issue because it doesn’t affect their lives, they have now convinced people the internet is 100 percent real with what is put on there, and because MSM doesn’t cover it, people think they stumbled upon plutonium, they probably watched a bunch of illuminati youtube videos where ominous music is playing in the background while you show different celebrities covering one eye. They think they are the only ones stumbling across this shit, and because MSM is completely shit with issues, that seems to be the role they have played in a more obvious ways to uplift other alt media platforms that pride themselves on being better than MSM but still pretty much have an establishment show. That is what TYT seems to be about more so than ever, Ana Kasparian and Cenk sold their souls to do shitty sitcom banter and trying to be “fair” to powerful right wingers when the systemic trajectory is by default a right wing system, no matter who the fucking president is. They will say they are telling you the truth about telling you how the system is being more and more corrupt, they show trauma porn a lot of the fucking time, then condemn people for being a bit reactionary when powerful right wingers are normalizing Nazi level shit against them, someone like Ana, who so badly wants to be a showbiz celebrity type, which is why a lot of alt media people who cover news never disclose how some of these big time celebrities and larger than life personalities are just regular people, she just said on her show “If Trump was just a comedian I would support him all day but he is running for president” like being a celebrity, you can’t be a government agent who manufactures consent and a cult. They feel so powerful for dumbing down villains that are a serious threat, but you are not supposed to think that because the “liberal establishment” is making fun of him all day and presenting theatrical cases that are more for the sports entertainment so it prolongs but sets you up for the inevitable because his followers who have large following and social clout, are presenting themselves like this could happen to anyone, when it has been happening to people, but they make it seem like they are actually going to do shit with Trump, and so when his side fights back, they will feel they have been targeted and victimized by the establishment while falling for another establishment person who is probably working with the people who claim to hate him so they can usher in fascism. I am getting a bit off track, but no one checks for my blogs unless it is powerful people who will find a way to mentally torment me for writing down my theories that was agreed upon that would mean I would have to be irrelevant. So Ana and Cenk start a shit storm on twitter and even tried to bait people on their show, and when they didn’t receive a reply, Ana went on the attack to someone who basically said she didn’t want to coddle her feelings when she was the one who started to bitch about birthing people term like it is some random opinion, while so many bills are being passed, the right wing sensationalizing videos online, Tucker basically telling his viewers these people are a fucking danger, these people know what they are doing when putting out the opinion, people pushed back against it, some were not so nice, some were trying to reason with them, and now they present it like “YOU CAN’T STOP US FROM THINKING WHAT WE THINK” in which seems to be one of the worst pivots to the right wing when it has been building for a while through some of their opinions. They fear monger about crime, and even the people who counter them with facts get discredited, but I feel both sides are missing that these billionaires, who fund protests, and fund chaos in school boards, people don’t want to believe these people could fund sensationalist crime for viral moments, that add to narratives of crime getting out of control, but TYT will use how regular citizens are scared and what do you tell them, but considering a few months ago during one of their commercial breaks, Ana admitted when reading a user comment, she thinks they are sensationalizing the crime so people fear justice reform, and I figured she would incorporate that eventually but she kept going on fear mongering about the homeless and the crime, and it feels even people who have to counter her within the rules of kayfabe, they can’t be conspiratorial and act like this shit is done by design, our lives have become a funded reality show, and we are using examples to chastise the most vulnerable, like with that new NCAA right wing spokesperson athlete who is speaking at Turning Point USA sponsored shit to spew paid speech for this political sports entertainment, she was confronted by attackers, and TYT chastises the people in that community like “You are not gonna change these people’s minds who might not be familiar with trans stuff” listen there are legit regular people who have been dumbed down by the system who might legit might not know, but this athlete is in a position where she is probably being funded to speak this “truth” because we assume the politically incorrect opinion is some genuine truth when it has been as funded as overly politically correct shit. And they use these sensationalist celebrity examples to then go the angle of “Look I am not a right winger, but this is why they have a point” and quite frankly Cenk and Ana don’t have the charisma to pull it off, they know they are blowing the remaining goodwill they had to now play catch up with Jimmy Dore and others like him because they can’t admit they want to sell out and go that way, when you have prominent right wing accounts encouraging you to get red pilled, it is not a good sign and because I believe shit is gimmicked,  TYT has always, in my opinion reported on gimmicked storylines that are designed for culture war issues while sprinkling in some real commentary, so now Ana is doing a story where to show she is a credible journalist she retracted a story about Rebekah Jones, who claimed that her son was arrested for a meme but it turns out he was gonna threaten to shoot up a school. It was an obvious smear job for DeSantis, so now all the right wing accounts have been calling this woman out, since the world wants you to go into a more right wing mentality in subtle ways, you now have TYT being “fair” to DeSantis that this sports entertainment patsy tried to smear his name when she has a history of fucked up shit like stalking etc, but to me it feels like an obvious attempt to whitewash DeSantis more and more. I have an issue because these people pretended to be for the left and did some good things but ultimately they want to sell out but before they do, they want to act like they were pushed to it. Pro wrestling 101 for heels. They won’t care because they will get their paydays, but they better realize the aesthetic might be nice, you will be protected, you will use your power to fuck up people’s lives, but everyone in your life will hate you and I am sure a lot of sell outs think they need to do whatever to survive for their families and maybe you will have the aesthetic, but you will feel miserable more and more because all of this to have a lame comedy bit where you and whatever host you have on are trying to reboot your favorite comedies and think your banter is actually fucking funny. 

Now that I have seen my fair share of in fighting being promoted while the world gets worse and then we define these systemic issues by the personality and celebrity involved, I am going to question if the people who are opposing TYT are not gonna find their way to become more right wing down the fucking line. It is not a farfetched assumption. Because sometimes people who cover politics, then come off like marks for entertainment, because that fuels everything which is why everyone and everything has to be some sort of nonstop comedy and Murder She Wrote mystery. Even the stuff with these leaks from the Pentagon, feels gimmicked, like the system wants you to know this information, but because we have to pretend that internet is some underground message board where no one else but you and your friends are into, people then think “MSM not covering this” but then other highly platformed shows are covering it but they really sell it like it was an accident, like if you are not that influential and you are going to lie about narratives, why would I even trust you on this matter. To me it isn’t about country vs country, but people pointing out what each government has done, but each side has to blindly defend the government they are for. When the bad faith factors from all countries are going to algin in the future, like to me people will point out Bush and neocons and act like Trump didn’t have a bunch of them in his administration, and they sell you on the idea that these people hate him, so if you hate him then it means you are siding with the neocons, people think calling out Bush or ex presidents mean a thing when the same players who manufactured consent 20 years ago are doing it again with advanced steps, anyone can say they are anti war now and it doesn’t mean shit, especially when you are palling around with people who clearly advertise more war all the time. They give you shit for playing lesser of the 2 evils, to them also now doing it on a really fucked up level since they are the credible media outlets compared to the “MSM” which makes money but it is basically designed to be a punching bag for other less established sellouts who have their own propaganda they want to spew. I know my shit is kind of scattered, I have so many thoughts and theories, and again these are things I can’t prove so you don’t have to take my word for it, but once I realized the internet and alt media can now be used as a propaganda tool, like all this “anti establishment” shit would’ve sufficed 10-15 years ago, but when you are living in a reality show where the educators are dumbing down the villains and claiming they are funny, I can see the establishment aesthetics creeping in, because these people in the know are fully aware of what the world is going to develop into, more promoted villainous shit about republicans wanting to take away food stamps and medicaid, and yes that shit people should be aware of but they know it is just them promoting what it to come while they actually think the theatrical shit in congress is going to be won when the right wing always find a way to deflect, and a democrat will give into the republicans because ultimately we are going to implode and they just found filler ways to be the reason why it will keep happening. So please spare me the shit of “TYT tells it like it is and they are better than MSM” Same shit goes for Jimmy Dore, I have seen this in wrestling a lot of time, permitted anti establishment people, Steve Austin, in modern times, CM Punk, when a lot of these people are probably industry plants. Some could be used for the sake of good or evil, but I am done pretending these new characters being introduced are just some genuine characters that somehow got known, to me it is always planted from different delegations and factions. Now whoever leaked the Pentagon leaks, he will become a guinea pig of someone who will be fucked with but he will become a new character into the fold. I know I went into a million other thoughts but to be honest when I write, I tend to jot down notes so then I can talk about it in a freestyle way, so even though I am writing a blog I am trying to incorporate as much of those thoughts in here so I don’t have to jot notes about it later in private, even though people are always watching what I write regardless, but everything now is designed for culture wars, promoting Budweiser, Mario Bros, or LEGO by freaking out which celebrities from different delegations will represent for it and we start complaining about it while at the core of this shit, it is sports entertainment and product placement. “This revolution/fascism is brought to you by Mario Bros” but you think people are arguing about the Mushroom head character not having enough masculine traits. These scandals going on feel like the new resume for what is on your IMDB page, like Trump is starring in several television shows where he is being charged with crime, you can’t keep up. It is like I gave up on trying watch every show and movie because I would keep up with the internet chatter, but now that shit is even more gimmicked and everyone has their own storylines going, you got procedurals with Lil Boosie, or Meek Mill, you don’t have to follow past storylines, because most of the time their storylines are self contained episodes. People are constantly reporting on this gimmicked shit. To me the world is advanced and has always been for the longest time, but they have to gimmick how they are normalizing these robot cops to patrol the subways and the streets etc, they are making it official because the world is about to get completely fucked up and they setting the seeds for it, more rights being taken way, more normalization of anti wokeness, justifying brutalizing people in vulnerable communities, present all of it with television show and movie aesthetics and we are too busy acting like characters than actually being human. It is hard to root for anyone anymore, nothing on the surface is ever going to get solved because it is supposed to implode into bedlam, we will have shit being purposefully done like all these toxic derailments, and I will give kudos to people covering it and getting the information out there, but the rest of the time will be spent on people who are accountable and responsible denying being responsible for it while maybe Katie Porter or Bernie Sanders will give them a stern talking to, which will get some social media viral shit to cheer on for the bare minimum. Why would I want to be on this planet, so everyone can fucking thrown on an NWO shirt and do the cool entrance with Hulk Hogan, the funny thing is a lot of you want to join that side thinking it is better to be with the bad guys than being with the losers in WCW, but not all of you are gonna be Kevin Nash, or Hulk Hogan, some of you might be the Scott Halls, where you will have all the money but your psychological issues will always come into play, some of of you will become Scott Norton where you will not reach your full potential in the main stable, you might have to go to another promotion to still show how your true talent, some of you will be VK Wallstreet who will just end up being a background player until they kick you out. If you don’t understand the wrestling analogies, go seek a friend who does and he can probably break it down for you, if they aren’t already being sucked in by the worked shoot in with current stuff, they won’t want to bother explaining what the NWO comparisons could be because they are trying to get to the bottom of why Dave Meltzer and Bryan Alvarez’s motives behind putting out anti CM Punk sentiment. This blog is getting out of control, but the main purpose was because I know most people expected this from TYT, but what outrages me is that all the good work they did or people they helped out, they have been slowly throwing it away and wanted to milk as much out of the progressives before they get gigs where they are propped up and they go further right, and instead of admitting that, they are finding ways to have agreements with the shittiest people on the right and having more vitriol for activists and people who are pushing back at their motives. It is fucking sickening to see people who want to be influential, who have advanced knowledge in the system to play dumb about shit and pretend they are the ones acting in good faith, they started a shit storm for no fucking reason, and then complained about people pushing back and act like they want to focus on the important issues. I hope the money is worth it, because you guys will never be the same. Cenk is the type of dude who watched Sopranos and really thought Tony Soprano is the good guy because there might be relatable mental issues the character has that people can relate to. But the funny thing is a lot of you sellouts want to be Tony Soprano, but you end up being Christopher Moltisanti, someone being groomed to be the next big thing but you have too many issues to deal with because you have been lured into a lifestyle by other sociopaths and manipulated into doing their biddings, and the anger you will have for the people giving you marching orders you will take out on your family members and friends. Now the trolls who hate me, who have connection with people in the system, could show them this blog and they could use their power to fuck with me more and I guess that is the consequence since Cenk is positioning it like he is the one getting punched in the face, and how he doesn’t back down, I don’t take those words lightly because I recognize it in other institutional bosses in the political and entertainment world, it means they will be in a position to be protected so they can run amok on their “enemies” but it didn’t have to be this way, even in videos where it is not right wing propaganda, the comment section is full of people who you would see in Jimmy Dore’s comment section, they are clearly catering to more on the right, and since the online narrative is the right wing are the ones being victimized and censored etc, it is like fairness has been granted when most of the narratives that have existed have probably always had roots in the right wing, to the point of telling people progressive ideas are coming and people are scared because they want to go back to a world where this was not promoted so fucking heavy and it makes me question if some of the gimmicked progressive shit in the system was not always there for the purpose of people thinking the opposite being completely the edgiest of all edges and it is not supported by the system, even though people from the system are the ones promoting it all over social media and speaking engagements, while establishment liberals keep promoting them under them being dumbed down villains, which will lower the guard for how smart these people are. I have heard this old adage in showbiz that “You are no dummy making money being stupid” and look at what the world is, yeah me I am considered a wack packer in the Stern world which has always been used to discredit me, but how can I really feel discredited when everyone who is a public figure is a wack packer yourself, you might as well just have Beetle Juice and Hank the Dwarf argue on the congress floor, because that is what most of these politicians and public figures in general have become. It has never been more obvious and people continuing into wanting to buy into this shit is just wasting everyone’s time because there is serious shit on the horizon and we continuously have to present everything under comedy, like is there not enough comedy for you people out there, what does it really mean when everything is entrenched in comedy. It doesn’t even feel like the laughs for this shit is even genuine anymore, the entertainment has become more worthless and useless to me. And this is what seeps into politics when the world is near doom and bad faith actors are pretending to warn about it while they will be the perpetrators in this whole thing to gain the power they so desperately need to turn this world into complete fundamentalist bullshit. The far right can keep normalizing the shit they normalized but if people don’t protest the fascism properly then they get chastised more than the normalization because shitty platforms like TYT give you the impression that the fight can be happen with the ideas presented in congress etc when they probably know the world is going to implode and not everyone has people looking after them, so people need to be in self defense mode from this shit. More people are gonna continue to get harmed from this rhetoric and no one with these big platforms ever have any real motivational shit to get people mentally prepared for what it to come but people who are far right can have their people enacted and go on the offense while pretending to play the defense so they don’t seem like monsters for the shit they are advocating for. I don’t know what the solutions are, I never wanted to be alive for the longest time, and I really don’t want to see this shit play out the way the people in charge want it played out. What hope is there? I am beyond escaping through entertainment, when the entertainment itself is a reminder of where the world is going as well and all the bullshit attached to it. Again I have to put disclaimers that I am not dangerous, I don’t have any weapons, I am being monitored most likely so the ones doing it can confirm, because anything you say about the system and its players, they will try do some shit to smear you at the behest of other powerful people who are getting angry I put this out but the only saving grace is most of the masses won’t know this blog exists, but just the mere fact that I am presenting it with the idea that I can’t confirm every single thing and I am being a little conspiratorial, does anger people and you bet they have people keeping an eye out on whatever I do, they probably monitor everyone and keep a dossier on them, figuring out how they could use them to be a patsy for some shit to further their agendas. The real ones know my true nature and what kind of propaganda I had to beat that was taking me over at times, they know I am not this violent dangerous person. But they will try to paint me as that, since that is what my trolls have notoriously done that if you look up my name, you see those negative stories, and to me that was designed that if Stern ever gets exposed for the shit he did to me, people looking up my name will see this false photoshop of me beating up people and labeled under “Hanzi beat up a gay couple at wild wings” they haven’t done this in a while but just having that in the public sphere, and anyone who has resources can check my background and see if I have been arrested, powerful people have dossiers on everyone. But there is a reason why my blogs and podcasts and tweets are not boosted up at all and it probably still makes them mad that I am putting effort into putting out podcasts, blogs and trying to be creative, because I am supposed to feel less than since I am not supposed to be boosted up on any level. People having their echochamber of celebratory shit can only be the ones to be propped up but even they are not fully happy because they don’t know if people genuinely find them funny or is it for quid pro quo “I’ll socially put you over but you have to laugh the shit I say”. If I do die, this shit will be out there to live on for people to read after the fact. Maybe in a next life or some shit it will be better since this timeline won’t seem to get better for me because of how the world will play out.

[absentcaryatid]

ATEEZ Unlimited

An ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

With their agency presumed bankrupt, can the guys come up with a way to continue the career they love?

1.8K words, Content note: barely skates by for all Tumblr-using ages, sex work is referenced, no reader, no romance

~

The news hit them like a truck. It broke while being interviewed live and the host paused to listen to their earpiece. “Reports are coming in that the accounting firm used by your company is under suspicion of fraud, theft, and gross mismanagement. Sources willing to go on record say KQ Entertainment will be bankrupt if the assets are unrecoverable.”

The CEO had been looking more stressed than usual lately and now the group knew why, if the rumors were true. Hongjoong's thoughts immediately went to all the employees dependent on KQ for a living. He could worry about his own career and that of the members under his leadership later, but for now the knowledge that there would be no paycheck in two weeks motivated him to make this promise. “I will do whatever I can as an artist to make sure the KQ family is taken care of during this crisis.”

The sincere intention to support a whole company from janitors to stylists and trainees weighed heavily on Hongjoong. Once back home at the dorm he gathered the members to see if the others wanted to rescue the company or let it die and seek contracts with other agencies. It pleased him beyond measure to see that they voted unanimously to work to save the agency. The guys would rather fight as one than admit defeat. It was not a certain thing ATEEZ would be picked up by another company if their contracts were sold off to pay KQ debts and expenses. Chances for KQ Fellaz 2 to ever debut were even slimmer if they lost their supportive environment.

Hongjoong appreciated the loyalty of his crew and explained what he had been thinking. “Long term we could get payouts for more commercials now that we are regularly in the top twenty K-pop groups when it comes to brand ranking. To meet the next payroll though, we need to get money in fast. I was thinking an auction of some of my reformed wardrobe and maybe even some of our old stage outfits. Anybody else have ideas?”

Of course it was Wooyoung who brought up the surest route to cash. “I could strip for pay on my next V Live.”

San was quick to join in. “Me too, I'd feel completely comfortable doing that.”

Yeosang snarked, “About time you got paid for the show we get for free at home. You waltz around the dorm naked often enough.”

San took the good-natured teasing well and laughed with all the others.

Ever the cautious mother hen, Seonghwa informed them nudity would probably break the V Live terms of service. “Besides, there is no tip function to take full advantage of any interest generated.” Seonghwa was nothing if not practical.

“We'll just have to find the right platform then. I'd go full-service camboy to keep our company afloat.”

Seonghwa spluttered as the whole group turned in shock to see who had spoken. They knew from the voice of course, but still it was hard to believe.

Yunho was the first to recover enough to form an opinion of the idea. With a hand held over his mouth Yunho blurted out, “Jongho! You would never need to do that. Other agencies are always trying to poach you. You could be hired elsewhere in a heartbeat.”

“I am loyal to KQ and you guys in particular. Eight makes one team, right? We rise or fall together so count me in on this project.” Jongho ended his rousing speech with a firm nod of his head and a steely look around the group. “I'm not a teenager to be babied anymore. Fans certainly see me as the man I am now if the explicit fanfic is any indication.”

Some eyebrows raised around the group, both at his possible reading choices and his willingness to participate in vividly sexual content streamed as a money maker. Jongho was always full of surprises.

Upping the ante even further, it was Mingi who suggested openly prostituting themselves. “Only the people who want to, and with right of refusal at any point, of course. Think of the big spenders we have among our fans. Who would not be intrigued by the ultimate fanservice from the idol or pair of their choice?”

“He's right, you know,” Yunho said to no one in particular as he gazed at his hands, the ones he knew people would pay dearly to enjoy in very adult ways. “I have seen some of the fanfic too. Pretty sure Mingi and I could work together to put some pretty big smiles on faces of people with money to throw at us.” By the time he looked up at the friends around him there were reactions running from impressed to possibly interested in dipping into their own savings.

Aghast, Seonghwa tried to rein in the brainstorming again. “My first of many objections is that prostitution is illegal in our country.”

“So we don't advertise it that way, just pay for a day with a member and no promises of sex, though buyers would have to bring a recent STI screening with negative results. We could call it 'ATEEZ Unlimited.' If something just so happens between consenting adults on their day together it happens, but we are selling access, not a tumble in bed.” Hongjoong smiled feeling like he had rules-lawyered his way through a loophole.

“The law sees through flimsy denials like that, Hongjoong. Besides, people couldn't keep something like that quiet for long. Really though, nobody with a job at KQ would want us to risk prison when they could still seek work at another company.” Seonghwa was right of course and all the men knew it.

Wooyoung was not ready to let their best moneymaker get away however. “People already think I am promiscuous given my flirty nature. Pretty sure I could argue in court I could not keep my hands off such lovely fans. It is believable, right? After all, rock stars sleep with groupies all the time for free. We would just be going about it in a more enterprising way.”

Some of the group nodded but Yeosang was unconvinced. “ATEEZ means too much to me to see the name dragged through the mud. Saving the company is for nothing if we can't get booked on shows anymore. I think cam work under identity-hiding measures is our best bet alongside more above-board activities like outright selling autographs and high-touch fanmeet tickets.”

“I have been writing fanfic on the side,” Jongho announced. “Commissions are usually paid a pittance, far less than they are worth, but if I was known to be the author I could then charge an impressive rate.”

Far more interested than concerned, San asked, “You write smut about us? Bet you could get paid even more money if it was illustrated with photos or video clips. Wooyoung and I could put together a little something....”

Jongho held up his hands. “Stop. No. I only write me. My fans have often expressed the disappointment that there are never enough Jongho stories.”

He was interrupted by Seonghwa. “I see the same complaints about me in fic.”

“Me too,” Hongjoong agreed.

With frustration in his voice, Jongho pointed out they were the top two in ATEEZ for fanfic written about them. “My fans really are going hungry so I like to give them a little fun under a pseudonym.” With pride he added, “Some of what I have written is among the most popular Jongho content on AO3 and Tumblr. People like the way my Jonghos always feel realistic.”

“That's impressive,” Yeosang praised. “Still, writing would take a while even if the pay was great. And do you really want to be known as the fanfic writing idol?”

Unembarrassed, Jongho argued, “People like different things, but as someone who enjoys it both as a reader and writer, I certainly see no shame in fanfic.”

“Okay, I'll give you that. But to open up scenarios on request means being flooded with very specific fantasies involving yourself, or at least the idol persona in their minds.” Yeosang shuddered. “As much as I love and appreciate ATINY, I would not want that x-rated look inside their heads.”

“Actually, that is a very important point. Thank you, Yeosang. Open season on sending me hard hours about myself is something I do not want to subject myself to.”

Yunho had been listening thoughtfully. “To take a different tack, I'm pretty sure we could do a stripped down concert series locally.” Seeing their wide eyes he clarified, “Not naked I mean, but a simple set, no confetti cannons, smoke, or other effects. Just microphones and outfits we already have.”

Setting aside his notebook where he had been doing some estimates, Mingi chimed in. “Good idea, but renting a hall means an outlay of money upfront before we make anything. Let's stick to profit only opportunities like those personalized video or audio message services. We could knock out plenty of those per hour.” The suggestion made sense and was greeted with approval. Mingi had always been good with math and set to work figuring pricing for solo and whole team recordings.

The group quieted as they contemplated the work ahead of them. Hongjoong's phone rang interrupting their individual thoughts. He took it on speakerphone once he saw the caller. CEO Kim brought the welcome news that the stolen funds had been located. KQ and their paychecks were safe, and he would pay wages from his own pocket until the money was returned to the company.

Hongjoong thanked him then hung up. “We are going to be okay. That is such a weight off our shoulders.” He visibly relaxed further as Wooyoung began a shoulder massage. To see Hongjoong so accepting of touch was telling how tense he had become over the now resolved situation. Bringing himself back to the present, he congratulated the members. “I was impressed the way every one of you pulled together to save our careers.”

Seonghwa also had something to say to the group. “Your devotion to keeping us together is admirable. I do have some concerns how quickly so many of you jumped to selling your bodies though.”

Wooyoung's confusion was honest. “You truly have never wondered what it would be like to give in fully to what some of our fans want of us?”

The smile of a Cheshire cat appeared on Seonghwa's face. “I do indeed think about what my dedicated fans hope to see. Mine may be a little different from yours in that a few hours of streaming LEGO builds satisfies them.”  

The knowing looks that passed among the fanfic reading members were missed by Seonghwa. They would let his innocence be spared. For now it was enough to celebrate the return of KQ to solvency and the once again stable future permitting a continued rise of their success.

~

General Masterlist

Masterlist of stories with No Romance

[sour--disposition]

Little Limbs

This is inspired by an idea from the lovely @simp4sidemen, I hope I did your idea justice 🥰

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Simon Minter x Fem!Reader

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please check my masterlist to see if requests are open

The ring sat heavy on your finger. It had, after all, only been 2 months since Simon had presented you with the promise ring. 

After a beautiful date at a rooftop bar by the Thames, he’d pulled out a black velvet box, opened it and slid it across the table to you. “Is this what I think it is?”, you asked hesitantly.

“No”, Simon chuckled at the nervousness in your voice. “No, it’s not that. It’s a promise ring”, he told you, gently, nervously.

“Oh”, you were speechless, something that didn't usually happen around Simon, people usually couldn't get a word in edgeways around the two of you.

“It’s a promise that one day it will be what you thought it was. Its a promise that I’ll love you for as long as you’ll keep me. It’s a promise of me, to you, for you”, he said, fingers fidgeting over the box lid as his eyes held yours.

Tears sprung to your eyes and you quickly reached up to stop their flow. “Shit, I didn't mean to make you cry”, Simon panicked.

“No, no!”, you rushed out. “It’s not like that, that was just really beautiful and so is the ring and so was tonight. You just caught me really off guard”, you told him through your watery laugh. Simon instantly relaxed into his chair, relieved.

“Can I?”, he asked, nodding towards your hand. You nodded, and he reached over, picking up your right hand and slipping the ring onto your ring finger. “Perfect fit”, he smiled.

“Everything okay?”, Simon’s voice asked, pulling you out of your trance. You looked up to him, smiling softly.

“Of course”, you told him simply. “Can I wear this today?”, you asked, holding up one of his black Sidemen Clothing hoodies.

“Of course”, he repeated, a smirk dancing across his face. You huffed at him, throwing your night shirt, the shirt Simon had taken off when he got into bed the night before, at him as you got dressed. “You can’t throw my own clothes at me as an insult, Y/N. It just doesn't work like that”, Simon laughed.

“It just doesn’t work like that”, you mocked in a high pitched, whiny voice as you pulled your head through the neck of the hoodie, careful not to get any make up on it. Simon laughed at you, picking up one of the countless decorative cushions you'd plagued his room with, hurling it at your thigh. “Truce!”, you called, throwing your hands in the air to surrender, already knowing you wouldn’t win in a play-fight with Mr. Lanky-Long-Limbs in the corner.

You followed Simon out of the bedroom, down to the parking garage of the apartment building and into the car. “Are you sure we’re a team, yeah?”, you asked him.

Simon had roped you in to the Sidemen’s second parenting video. There was no host this time, just 4 teams trying not to kill a plastic, robotic doll in the streets of London. You’d agreed, of course, but only if you’d be paired with Simon. You’d throw the baby at JJ’s head in the first hour, guaranteed, and you weren’t here to lose.

“Yeah, and if not, I’ll just swap with whoever you’ve ended up paired up with”, Simon smiled simply, turning his eyes back to the road. The rest of the car journey was a comfortable silence, filled only by the sounds of your joint Spotify playlist running through the speakers. Simon’s hand rested on your thigh as he drove through the streets of London, occasionally mindlessly drumming along with the music as you waited in traffic.

Once you’d pulled up to Vik’s apartment, Simon parked the car. He squeezed your thigh softly before unbuckling his seatbelt. “Are you sure you’re okay?”, he asked you, voice tinged with worry.

“Yeah, I promise, Si. I just have a lot on my mind at the moment”, you told him honestly. His worry didn't subside, if anything it only got worse.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”, he took ahold of your hand, his fingers running over the band resting on your finger. “You know I’m always gonna be here for you?”.

“I know, Si. I promise I’m okay. We can talk about it later, yeah?”, you told him, twisting your fingers to wrap them around his and hold his hand properly. “I love you”, you reminded him, leaning over to kiss him. “Now, come on, let’s go get a baby”.

Two hours later, you and Simon were strolling through a baby shop, looking for an outfit for your new child. “Y/N! Look how cute this is!”, Simon yelped, holding onto a tiny grey onesie that had ‘I love my Daddy’ written across it. “I think Petunia needs this”, he told you seriously.

“No, Petunia needs an outfit fit for a little lady. She wouldn’t be caught dead in grey, Simon. Gosh, do you not know your own daughter!”, you laughed, leading him over to the aisle that held clothes better suited to the size of your doll.

“Is it something you ever think about?”, Simon asked you, sifting through the little pink dresses in front of him. “Us, I mean... Having one”.

“I do, yeah”, you smiled up at him, leaning into his side. “Do you?”, you asked him, chewing on your lip. Simon’s brow furrowed.

“I do. I know you’ll make a great mum. I mean, if you can look after me and JJ drunk, you can do anything. I just... I don’t think I’d be a good dad”, he sighed, hand stilling on the flowery dresses.

“Why?”, you asked him, tilting your head up to look at him. “The fact that you worry you wouldn’t be a good father already shows that you care. Nobody knows how to be a parent until they have to, Si”, you told him softly, slipping your arm around his waist to rest your hand on his hip. “I think you’d make a great dad”, you smiled.

“Really?”, he asked you, eyes lighting up as he looked down to your face.

“Yeah, I mean look how much effort you put into youtube and streaming and fan interaction. That alone shows you can commit to looking after something. Yeah, its different than like... a whole baby... but in the last 9 years, you’ve never given up on it”.

Simon didn’t say anything after that, just wrapped his arms around you and held you close to his chest, dropping a kiss to the top of your head, before you moved on to find Petunia some shoes.

“Y/N, she won’t stop crying”, Simon stressed. The two of you were finished in the baby shop, getting ready to make your way over to the tills to pay, when Petunia decided that it was time for all hell to break loose. “What do I do?”, he panicked.

“You go outside with her and feed her and I’ll get this”, you told him, handing the nappy bag containing all of Petunia’s belongings over to Simon.

-

You were quite sure that the footage of yours, Simon’s and Petunia’s day would be positively, mind-bogglingly boring. It turns out that the one pair that actually function as a couple 24/7 make a really good team, who’d have guessed it?

Back at Vik’s apartment, the student cards were sorted out so you could see how well you’d all performed in parenting. It was no surprise when Harry and JJ’s baby came last, given that it returned to Vik’s missing an arm, a few toes and an eye. Ethan and Vik came next, somehow managing to shut the baby off 20 minutes into their day so there was barely any information to even report back. Josh and Tobi’s baby had survived, albeit a bit hungry and tired. But Petunia... yours and Simon’s little lady had come out on top.

“Oh, I’m so proud of Petunia”, you and Simon had gushed, like real proud parents. You showed the boys the picture of Simon asleep on the sofa, Petunia’s hand grasped tightly in yours.

“You didn’t have to show them that”, he huffed, nudging your side.

As Vik retired the babies to a spare-room, the rest of the guys set to ordering take out. “Who wants a drink?”, Vik asked as he walked back into the living room and kitchen area. A chorus followed, all reeling off several alcoholic beverages.

“I’ll just have lemonade”, you told him with a smile. After managing to convince Vik that, yes, you were sure you only wanted lemonade, you went and sat back down with Simon.

“I got you something today”, you told him once all the guys had got their drinks and found a seat. “Here”, you told him, handing him over a small gift box.

“What’s this for?”, Simon asked, turning the box over gently in his hands.

“Just open it”, you told him.

Simon pulled the lid off of the box. His jaw dropped. “You’re...”, he trailed off.

Inside the box lay two positive pregnancy tests and the tiny onesie he’d shown you earlier on in the day.

“I found out last week, I didn’t want to tell you until I’d been to the doctors and checked properly”, you told him.

“Oi, what is it?”, JJ asked loudly. Simon’s only response was to hold up the little outfit to show the guys. “I’m gonna be an uncle?”, JJ asked, a lot softer this time. His face had split into a grin, as had the rest of the guys.

“Y/N’s pregnant”, Simon said softly, as if he was trying to convince himself. He looked over at you, and then down to the baggy fabric of his hoodie over your stomach. “Can I?”, he asked.

“Of course. It’s your baby, Si”, you chuckled happily. He reached out a hand, laying it gently over your side. “Are you okay?”, you asked him gently.

“Vik, can we borrow the balcony?”, Simon asked, turning his head to face his friend but not letting his hand leave your body. Vik nodded quickly, pointing in the rough direction of the door since he already knew that you and Simon knew the way.

“Should I not have told you in front of everyone?”, you asked quietly. Instead of saying anything, though, Simon dropped down to his knees in front of you, letting his large hands cradle your sides. He dropped a kiss to stomach, just below your bellybutton, and you instantly felt better.

“Hello, little one. Daddy loves you, too”.

[alienaiver]

Half the Battle, pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

find part two here!

warnings: slight angst about childhood/parents fighting/divorce, one (1) bottle of wine is opened, someone is betrayed in Mario Party, NOT beta-read! apologize for any mistakes! (lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!)

wordcount: 5.5k

content: soulmate AU, mild angst, fluff, post-timeskip but slight canon divergence (i haven’t read the manga yet so this is loosely based off of their canon timeskip lives), gender neutral reader, reader is a video editor, reader is bad at eye contact but the details as to why are vague/up for interpretation!

notes: this was made for @gg9183 ​ ‘s wonderful birthday event, a soulmate collab! (go read the other wonderful works!) happy birthday once again, gray!! this was meant to be a 2k one shot but.... plans and inspiration changes sometimes, right? 🥺 so this ended up as a 5k part ONE lmfao i hope thats alright w u!!! part2 will be up asap, i promise!! i hope you enjoy this!!!! 

—————————

Not meeting his soulmate was fine, Kuroo often found himself thinking. The odds of finding your soulmate’s way too low to be realistic anyways, he supported the thought. It’s illogical to spend so much time fretting about it, he finally added for good measure.

Soulmates were a natural part of life, always had been. But with the big wide world filled with over seven billion people, meeting yours wasn’t completely unheard of. But given the powers of soulmates even existing, it wasn’t unrealistic to also believe that some kind of fate would pull you towards each other throughout your lives so that you would meet each other. Kuroo however, prided himself in not caring about soulmates. His life was rich enough. People explaining their feelings about “something being missing until they finally meet them” was incomprehensible to him.

Kuroo had lived for 29 years without being able to see color. And you know what? His life was damn well fulfilling enough. He had a beautiful apartment, an economy that flourished, an adorable cat named Cucumber and good people around him. What would he really need a soulmate for? He could ignore his friends comments on how wonderful the world was in color, if only he would just start looking for his soulmate, how much meaning it gave life. Just because the people in his closest circle had all magically met theirs – not to mention how many of them had already met in Goddamn high school, Kuroo scoffed and was always able to move on.

Even though a lot of people actively made eye contact with everyone they met, even people on the street, to make sure they would meet their soulmate, Kuroo kept his eyes down. He wasn’t insecure, come on, he was perfectly happy! He just didn’t need to be late for a meeting because he got eye contact with some stranger, you know?

His life was in perfect balance as is.. Until yesterday, of course. It had turned out there was mold in his apartment complex so they had to evict it for a month while a crew would go through everything to remove it. He didn’t want to go to his mother’s place, that was too far from his work, but he wasn’t in the mood for a hotel, that was way too expensive, so he turned to his best friend of many years with the biggest set of puppy eyes he could muster and the prospect of making every dinner while he lived there.

“Fine… but don’t get in the way,” was all Kenma had to say.

And so Kuroo spent his last weekend in his own apartment packing things down to make it accessible to the cleaning crew. Cucumber hated other cats with a passion so he couldn’t bring him to Kenma’s, where three cats already happily lived, so his mother would pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

__

He sat on his couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly with Cucumber on his lap who had been stressed with all the packing down, sensing something was up. He was being extra cuddly towards Kuroo who, honestly? Didn’t mind at all. He loved when Cucumber was in mood for cuddles, though it wasn’t very often. He had been told his cat was orange and while he didn’t have a measure for what that color actually looked like, he was happy with his gray cat.

His mother was supposed to arrive any minute now, so he should have gotten up and put the cat in his carrier but it was easier to get him in it if you had two pair of hands. He scrolled through Instagram, reaching a photo put up by Tsukishima of his soulmate, the light-haired manager of their high school volleyball club, with a tooth-eating grin on her face and proudly showing off a ring on her finger, the caption said, This smile makes me wanna brag. Kuroo could physically hear the provocative tone of his voice, knowing he was one of the first in his circle of friends to actually plan a wedding. Kuroo clicked his tongue with a smile on his face and double-tapped to like the picture.

He didn’t know if it was the combination of that post and the fact that his mother was on her way but memories of his parent’s wedding flooded his mind. For a lot of people, weddings felt obsolete in the face of the whole “you already got your soulmate and you know this” thing, so a lot of couples were happy not getting married but just being together. But there was also the benefits of marriage in the practical sense, so some people did anyways, some hosting parties, some not. His parents weren’t married when he came to, but after he turned five they decided to do it so he would be protected by both of them, in case of any emergency.

It had been a small wedding, only the closest family and friends but Kuroo was vivid, so excited about being part of that whole romantic ordeal, even helping his mom find a dress and everything. He had been a huge and important part of the wedding – if he did say so himself. Everyone had been glowing at the day, the food was delicious, there was laughter, song and cheers and everyone had brought so many presents – even some for little Tetsurou, who had been very excited about his new train tracks.

But when Kuroo was seven years old, it wasn’t as romantic anymore. His parents were fighting a lot, he wasn’t entirely sure why or about what because they would never tell him about it, no matter how much he asked. When he tried to listen in, the words he heard didn’t explain anything to him because even though they were yelling at each other, the important words were always whispered, as if they knew Kuroo was listening in.

When he was eight his mom had come into his room, hugged him and with tears in her eyes and said that they were going to move away.

“Where are we going?” he asked simply, no emotion to be read on his little face. He was exhausted from his parents being this way – they were soulmates, right? Why did they fight like that?

“To Tokyo, just you and me, my love.”

That’s when he met Kenma. He had been very closed-off and shy back when they met, he reminisced. He had been a regular kid when he was younger but the way his parents split up – his soulmate parents – had closed him off pretty bad, so it was a miracle he met Kenma and started opening up again.

Kuroo smiled to himself bitterly before scratching Cucumber’s ear. He supposed this was also why he wasn’t interested in his soulmate. So many people had romanticized the whole soulmate ideal so a lot of people forgot that relationships still took work, took effort and just because they were made for each other, didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would stay together. His mom and dad didn’t officially talk anymore, but when he asked his mom as a child whether or not she still saw color, she said that she did. He also found long letters in her bedroom when he was nine, letters from his dad, so he supposed they still talked together, though Kuroo wasn’t let in on it – nor was he particularly interested. And he definitely we wasn’t interested in ending up in a relationship with someone who would end up not wanting to put in the effort for the relationship to flourish.

After Cucumber had been picked up by his mom it was time to leave for Kenma’s place. He carried the last boxes of valuables down to his basement and locked them in before trekking down to the subway with his suitcase and sports bag.

_____

You were late for work, so you scrambled to pack your things. It was Wednesday afternoon and you were supposed to meet in at 3PM, because that was around the time that Kodzuken had planned to finish his recording, he told you yesterday. You were a video editor and had met Kenma through your old part-time job in his favorite convenience store quite a few years back, back when he had first bought his house when he was 24. You remembered talking to him about video games in the store since you also played some, and after a good while of polite customer service and talk about new games, you had started hanging out outside of work as well. When you had then told him you were actually a freelance video editor but just didn’t get many jobs, he had almost instantly hired you to do his YouTube videos for him and general editing and set-ups of his streams. I know video games, not recording equipment, he had told you so many years ago.

Your original thought had been wary, because working for a friend might get messy but Kenma cared a lot about keeping it professional when you were on the clock, which you appreciated very much. In his house, down by his game room, there was a room next door with screens and all the best editing software just for you to play with. Your pay was higher than average for such a “simple” but regular gig but when prompted about it, he simply shrugged and told you it wasn’t up for negotiation and no one was being treated unfair – and who were you to go against such a good pay for a job that you loved doing and wanted to do full-time? With Kenma being a famous streamer and gamer, he often made lots of different videos for various sites so your job hours resembled a nine to five job, easy, even if the hours were off from the more conventional jobs and you usually came in later in the day and sometimes finished off late in the evening – some of his videos had a time limit for a release date of a game, so there was also days where you were extremely busy and scrambling to get the video done right for a release of a game.

As you closed your bag and ran out the door towards the subway, you checked your phone for any updates. If he’d finished early, he would’ve texted you about it, so you put your phone in your pocket and hurried towards his house.

When you arrived you immediately rang the doorbell before catching your breath, you were used to Kenma spending a few minutes before reaching the door and opening it, so when the door opened almost instantly you took a step back before looking up. The one opening the door was taller than Kenma and in a loose dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top - that’s all you saw before your eyes darted down to your feet.

“...Hi! I’m uh… Where’s Kenma?” was all you got out while fidgeting with your purse strap, it certainly wasn’t his boyfriend Hinata opening the door today.

“Oh, hey! You must be his video editor, right? He told me about you!” The man said, pointing to himself with his thumb,

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou! Kenma’s childhood friend! Sorry to intrude, I’ll be living here for the next month, I promise not to get in your way!” As he finished his introduction, he moved aside so that you could enter. As you took off your shoes you heard Kenma’s feet shuffling towards you, “oh hey, welcome, you’re early,” Kenma said with his usual deadpan expression but you could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.

“At least I’m here now, right?” You smiled back, instantly relaxing at the sight of your boss and friend. You turned to Kuroo again, bowed and introduced yourself before taking off your coat and putting it on a hanger, while Kenma and the guy named Kuroo seemed to bicker a bit about whether or not Kuroo should answer the door while he lived there.

“I’ll go set it up, have you transferred the video files to the hard disk?” you asked Kenma as you moved towards ‘your’ office, sending Kuroo a polite smile while keeping your eyes on his neck.

Eye contact was hard for you, it always made you extremely uncomfortable and you didn’t really have any before you felt comfortable with the person. Your mother had often scolded you, saying you’d never find your soulmate at this rate, which you always acknowledged with a hum or a simple yes without starting a discussion.

You honestly weren’t sure whether or not you cared for a soulmate. Your biggest argument to wanting to find one was so that you could see colors, because it’d help your career. Kenma already had his soulmate, so he was the one deciding the color scheme for his videos and helped with the color-related editing, which worked fine as of now, but you would probably appreciate to be able to do it yourself. You had also spent some years coming to terms with your struggles with eye contact and accept that this was just how you functioned. If you missed your soulmate in a random supermarket thanks to it one day, well, you’d be none the wiser, so you felt sure you’d survive without one, but you also couldn’t deny that the sound of a soulmate sounded really nice and comforting. That someone out there existed to fit you, that you were born to love someone who was also meant to love you. You were sure that finding your soulmate wasn’t a dance on roses, it was sure to still be hard, frustrating and maybe even painful sometimes, but you also couldn’t just have all the good, there was a balance that was sure to exist within soulmates as well.

After hours of going through the raw footage from his video game play and slowly editing while watching it, you popped your shoulders and stretched your arms for a moment, yawning as you did so. Your hours were always a bit intense, but that couldn’t be helped when you had six hours of raw footage to work with. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 5.30PM which meant that soon Kenma would wake up from his pseudo-sleep (which was more like a nap in your opinion) to look at your process and ask what you wanted for dinner.

Soon after a soft knock was heard followed by the door opening slowly, Kenma standing in sweats and a hoodie with bags under his eyes, “do you like hotpot?” he asked, and you smiled at him, “sure, are you cooking tonight?” he yawned while he shook his head, “Kuroo is. He insists on a ‘fulfilling meal’, whatever that means.”

You giggled before beckoning Kenma in to see some of what you’ve done so far and making minor adjustments along the way. “Now, something smells delicious and I’m thirsty,” you stated after the two of you had talked a bit about the rest of the video’s plans. As you went towards the kitchen you could hear the sound of of a nameless tune being hummed, pans sizzling from something being cooked and kitchen utensils being used.

Inside, the table was already set with plates and prepared ingredients lying ready for the pot that Kuroo was just about to put on the table. It seemed he had made an endless supply of different side dishes and really put in a lot of work for it, so you looked really forward to eating it and it smelled delicious. You grabbed a glass from the set table and went to the sink to get some water and just as your hand reached it, Kuroo had extended his hand as well to the sink and you accidentally touched.

You both recoiled as if you had been burned and you couldn’t stop the gasp that accidentally left your lips. A feeling was rushing through your body you hadn’t experienced before and you immediately apologized to Kuroo and went back to the table, foregoing the water. You didn’t notice how Kuroo was frozen in place from when he touched you before Kenma called out to him and he immediately started moving again.

You ended up eating shortly after, Kuroo serving the food and talking animatedly about him and Kenma’s childhood, making you laugh quite a bit at their (or more, Kuroo’s) antics and their volleyball days. Kuroo was the type of person to make you relax in his presence and have fun which you didn’t even notice until you got home later that evening and really thought about what a great time you had had. You found yourself surprised by how easily you clicked with Kuroo, a total stranger. It must be his charm, you thought to yourself before going through your night routine. You had to come back tomorrow and finish work, after all. You estimated the video would take you a few more days to finish but that would end up fitting well with the weekend coming, so as you went to bed you felt yourself more relaxed than you had in a while.

_____

“What are they like?”

It was Friday and it seemed you had finished Kenma’s video and therefor you weren’t here for dinner – for the first time in a few days, which did let down Kuroo just a tiny bit. He had talked a lot with you during dinner preparations when you came out from the office and during dinner as well and while you did answer all his questions (which, he admitted, there were quite a few of them) and follow up with your own for him, it still felt… off… talking to you – and Kuroo didn’t like not knowing why. “What do you mean?” Kenma asked, taking another bite into his mouth.

Kenma swallowed a piece of meat before looking up at Kuroo who was stabbing his plate with his fork in what seemed like a useless purpose. He knew he was being a little weird but meeting you was weird, even though he had no reason to explain why.

“I mean, is this how they usually act?” He didn’t even know what that question meant or why he was even asking it, nothing made sense! But he had a desperate feeling that he needed to get to know you – he was afraid of what that implied and what suspicions he needed to hold onto, but he was sure it was his gut telling him you were dangerous for Kenma to be around – that had to be it! Kenma was his best friend, his childhood friend, it had to be a gut feeling meant to protect him!

“Who knows, they’re being more polite than usual, I think. But that makes sense,” Kenma replied calmly before adding, “I mean you are a stranger who’s really intent on being social with them over our dinners, they were a bit shy as well when I met them,”

Kuroo nodded and finally took a bite of his own food. He didn’t notice Kenma’s raised eyebrows or the questioning look that was sent his way, so Kenma decided to let the subject rest.

Not seeing you today felt weird to him too and he couldn’t help the irritation building up inside him – you had just met a few days ago and only in the evenings when he was done with work and ready to make dinner – and yet, the thought of you kept invading his mind. He had gotten through work today thinking you were going to be there for dinner so when he came home and found out you wouldn’t be there, the first seed of irritation had been planted – why was he suddenly looking so much forward to seeing you? Had it been like this yesterday too? Why was it suddenly important that you weren’t there? He ended up sitting in front of the laptop in the guest room for the rest of the evening, the document left open and completely untouched.

Kuroo, however, didn’t let the subject rest in his head for the rest of that evening. Hinata was in town, having time off after a big game yesterday so Kuroo was left to his own devices – which really wasn’t a problem considering he had to make the paperwork for a promotional deal for a meeting Monday morning that he had procrastinated making – which wasn’t like him at all, he usually never pushed assignments to last minute and he then realized the reason he wasn’t done yet was because he had spent so much time over the dinner table with Kenma and you, talking even after dinner had been done for a while. You always offered to help him with the clean-up so you also spent some time talking there, drifting off to various subjects far passing the cleaning duties and sitting down again with a glass of water.

He enjoyed your company, it felt... easy, somehow, the sensation that something was off was there but it didn’t really settle in his stomach until every time after you left, as if it was left to grow a bit from a small sensation to a problem, which worried him – Kuroo prided himself as an impeccable people-reader, he was captain for both the volleyball team in high school and college, he knew how to act around business relations so well because he could read them so flawlessly – so the feelings he got from you was unsettling and unreadable and it took some control away from him – and Kuroo always felt uneasy when he wasn’t in control.

____

Kuroo heard your name and almost got whiplash from how fast his head moved towards Kenma, “what?”

“I asked if we should invite them? To game night? Being three is a little annoying in Mario Party.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea! I’d love to see them again!” Hinata happily exclaimed before taking another bite of the lasagna Kuroo had prepared tonight. It was Saturday and Kuroo had been in a daze the entire day, first at the office for a quick meeting with his boss about a potential partner he might be able to reel in soon and then doing his laundry at Kenma’s and continuing to try and make the stupid paperwork but ultimately failing before he had to make dinner.

“Isn’t it a bit late to invite someone? I mean, they could have plans already...” Kuroo tried, knowing what a pain it could be to be asked to something an hour before it happened and he didn’t want to let you go through that – that’s what he tried to tell himself, at least. In truth? He was a bit afraid of seeing you again, afraid of his potential reactions, since he had spent his entire Friday in a stupor just thinking about you. His thoughts didn’t mean much for Kenma and Hinata though, who was already texting you to ask.  “Oi, no phones at the table, have you parents taught you no manners?” Kuroo chided and Hinata immediately shrank back and apologized – Kuroo smirked, yea the Chibi-chan still had respect for his seniors. But he was quickly pulled back to thoughts about you by Kenma’s phone lighting up again, “they’ll be here in an hour. They’re asking if they should bring anything?” Kenma looked up to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, having noticed something about his friend had been off the past few days. He immediately made a funny grimace before turning it into a smile. “Yea, they can bring a bottle of white wine, if I have to beat you all at Mario Party, I would very much like to be a tiny bit buzzed,” Kuroo said, and Hinata looked at him with wide eyes, “you drink wine!? So grown up!” Hinata exclaimed, to which Kenma just muttered, “or just an old man…” Kuroo didn’t hear that though, too busy to fidget with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling nervous that you were showing up.

Hinata plopped down between Kuroo and you with a controller in hand, “I’m gonna beat you all in this Mario Kart!” to which you laughed loudly, “good luck since we’re playing Mario Party.”

“Huh? Is there a difference?” Hinata asked, making Kuroo belt out a loud laugh as well, holding his stomach, “you just told us you’d beat us but you don’t even know what we’re playing!” Kuroo couldn’t contain his laughter for a bit until he noticed how you were looking at him and instantly retracted his laugh, sitting up straight with a cough, and apologizing for being loud, which confused him to no end. He had never been self-conscious of his own laugh! He knew it could be obnoxious and loud, but he also liked it himself, and-

“That’s a really cute laugh.”

The comment earned you the stares of the century from the three other people in the room, with Kenma in genuine shock – he wouldn’t say he disliked Kuroo’s laugh, just that it was… special.

“Uhm… Uh. Thank you?” Kuroo could feel that his blush went all the way to his ears but he hoped that the light in the living room wasn’t bright enough to catch it. “Yeah uh! Sure! Mhm,” you awkwardly coughed a bit as well before reaching for your glass of wine.

You had brought a bottle of white wine for Kuroo on the promise that you’d get a glass too, saying he was your first friend who also liked wine. The word ‘friend’ had dumb-founded him and he’d just answered “you can have it all,” to which you had laughed and said it’s fine with half, you weirdo.

The game was about to begin but Kuroo was still sitting stuck on the fact that his laugh was cute – cute? Had anyone else found it cute before besides Bokuto and his mom? He wasn’t sure – he sure couldn’t pinpoint them right now anyways. He tried to shake it off and focus on the game, though quite a bit of time was spent explaining the rules to Hinata who apparently had thought they were just playing Mario Kart.

When you were 12 laps into it, it seemed that you were set to win with your four stars and 121 coins. Kenma was right behind you with three stars and Hinata and Kuroo had been left in the dust with zero stars. You had stolen Kuroo’s first (and only) star early in the game, so he was plotting his vengeance in quiet but was getting afraid that the game would end before he could do anything to you – but just as his hopes were at the smallest during the last round of the game, you were put in the same team as him in the last mini game.

Kuroo had a wide smirk when you cheered and said, “this’ll be easy then!” because no, it would not be easy for you. If he had to go down in order to take you down a notch, then so be it. He’d rather Kenma win than you did with stolen goods!

The last mini game was “Tow the Line” where two players were put in a sewing box shaped with nine dots as a grid and two players tied together with a string and the objective was to make the shape with the string as shown in the middle of screen. As soon as the whistle sounded, Kuroo lowered his hands and stopped using his controllers, all with a big grin on his lips.

“Kuroo, what the fuck! Get moving, we’ve started!” you yelled at him as Kenma and Hinata won the first round, signaling the next round began, Kuroo started whistling and looking away from the screen, to which you got up from your seat, “fine, I’ll just take your controller and do it myself!”

Kuroo put his arm with the controller behind him, “nah-ah-ah! You’re not winning this, fiend! That’s what you get for stealing my star!” He grinned up at you with his eyes closed as you stood with your hands on your hips, “come on man! I stole that star in the fourth round! Kenma stole a star from me as well!” you tried, “maybe he stole the one that was yours, who knows! Get over it so we can win!”

But as soon as you’d said that, the third round had just been won and you sighed and flopped down on your seat again, “not cool Kuroo, not cool. I’ll remember this!”

You both laughed as the game made ready to announce the winner, Kenma and Hinata entertained by your antics.

“You can’t avenge something that I avenged in the first place! I only did it because you did me wrong, you know!”

“You can’t use logic on me, it doesn’t apply!”

To no surprise, you won the entire game, even winning one of the two bonus stars given at the end of the game.

After the last sequence and a bow from you there was a quick break before you decided to play some Mario Kart for Hinata’s sake, since his argument was that he lost due it being Party instead. You played quite a few hours and after another toilet break you had switched places with Hinata so Kenma could cuddle up against him. You yawned, drinking the last of the wine in your glass and said, “I should head home, I have a friend coming over for lunch tomorrow.”

Hinata and Kenma both started to get up to say goodnight but you waved at them with a smile, “I can walk out myself, it’s fine!” But Kuroo had already gotten up from the couch as well, so you walked with him towards the hallway where you put on your shoes. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, which Kuroo noted and scowled a bit - he might have only known you for less than a week but for some reason he felt like it had been a lot longer, like you were old friends – it felt strange, to be so close with a stranger. He didn’t know anything about you, really. He knew your name, your job and how you liked some of your vegetables and which meat was your favorite, he knew you also loved cats but didn’t have one (he couldn’t remember if he knew why) and he felt pretty sure he would recognize you in a crowded area – why it was so intense, he was unsure of, he hadn’t tried meeting someone this way before. It had also seemed like having this game night had made you considerably more relaxed in his presence, even joking around with him instead of being polite, which made Kuroo somewhat giddy, though it didn’t really make sense to him as to why.

“I hope you had fun,” Kuroo said awkwardly, as if he had been the host and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I did! I’m sorry I stole your star, though,” you laughed, buttoning your jacket.

“Nah, no worries, as they say, all’s fair in love and war, right?”

You giggled and picked up your bag from the dresser while Kuroo opened up the door for you. As you exited, you turned around with a bright smile, “well, thanks for toni-”

Everything ended up a blur, too bright, too much, too noisy, too… colorful? Kuroo was still looking into your eyes as all that went through him, completely blindsided. As he took a proper look, he could see that you looked just as surprised as him, your eyes wide but still never leaving his either.

“Is… Is this? Are you? Is…” You asked after what felt like both days and milliseconds, I could stare at them so much longer, he thought to himself, the colors only making your face more clear to him. Had you really not had eye contact at all? Had you seen each other for several hours – more than a few times, without looking each other in the eyes at all? Kuroo was more baffled by this happening so late than the fact that it was happening.

He was about to say something, anything, when you promptly turned around, nervously yelling, “I-I uh, I gotta go! Goodbye!” as you hurried out of the driveway and down towards the subway.

“W-wait!” Kuroo belatedly and unhelpfully yelled out as you turned a corner, too late. You were gone. A hand was dragged down his face as a sigh left him, what the fuck had just happened? He obviously needed to talk to you about this, but he also needed to gather his thoughts about all of this, so he slowly closed the door and went back towards the living room, greeted by Hinata and Kenma who looked up at him curiously, “why did you yell?” Hinata asked with his head tilted.

“I think I just found my soulmate.”

[janamelie]

Dimension Jump XXI Report

I suppose I’m a DJ veteran now as this was my fifth consecutive one and the fourth at the Nottingham Crowne Plaza which is an expensive four-star hotel.  Sharing with a friend helps keep the cost reasonable and honestly, it’s worth it for the sheer convenience of being right there in the hotel and being able to nip back to your room as required.  (To be clear, you don’t have to stay in the hotel to attend the con.  There are plenty of other hotels nearby.)

Plus there is always the chance that you’ll see a guest at breakfast as I did Danny once.  He picked out a few pieces of fruit and nibbled at them before wandering over late to his photoshoot.  What else would you expect from a cat though?

Friday

Myself and @downonthepharm-red-dwarf (Amy) had arrived the previous day so had plenty of time to be near the front of the queue for registration.  Which meant we saw Hattie Hayridge arrive in a stunning designer coat and with smart luggage.  She really brought her outfit A-game and looked great the whole weekend.

Once we’d presented our respective proofs of full Covid vaccination or a recent negative test, we were given our DJ passes and booklets.  The latter has spaces for signatures from guests, an Order Of Events and various handy tips for the weekend.

The con kicks off at 5pm with an hour of gradual build-up in the Main Hall - they show videos from previous events, specially made titbits with various guests past and present such as Mark Dexter doing a mock guide to DJ and Rebecca Blackstone voicing Pree.  It all helps with the atmosphere, as do the numerous RD posters dotted around the hotel.

Then it was time for the Opening Ceremony featuring various Fan Club team members and an overcrowded stage full of cardboard boxes - the joke was that they’d had too much time on their hands during lockdowns and bought loads of stuff online.  It was obviously also a nod to Lister’s hoarding in “The Promised Land”.  

The sketch featured a specially made shot of the AA adverts’ Starbug model landing outside the Crowne Plaza and an 80s computerised version of the lovely convention logo.  You could tell a lot of loving effort had gone into the whole thing.

Once the guest line-up had been announced (I’ll get to that not-really-a-surprise-guest shortly), we went straight into the RD Pub Quiz, hosted by Hattie.  DOTP and I had been joined at our table by Lapsang and Barbs from our Discord (No Kind Of Atmosphere) plus various other attendees we’d befriended.

Someone in the crowd yelled “I love you, Hattie!” to which she quipped “I’ve pulled already!”  Another bloke shouted “Fuck off, she’s mine!” which led to a few shouts of “Fight!”  When neither seemed keen to do so, Hattie joked: “Only two?  That’s a bit pathetic!” and then we got started.

The quiz is hard, by design, but I’m good at quizzes and my team - No Kind Of Atmosphere after our Discord - came joint third which was gratifying.  (I was on the winning team a few DJs ago, to blow my own trumpet for a moment.  This is my report, after all.)

And then it was time for the first guest Q&A with - surprise, surprise - Johnny Vegas aka the Crit Cop in “Timewave”.  Not a great episode but he more than made up for that with an appearance I can only describe as chaotic.  Warning - DO NOT attempt to heckle him unless you want to be singled out and humiliated in front of the entire audience in a “Can’t look away” fashion which was nonetheless entertaining.  The man in question tweeted about it afterwards and seems to have taken it in good spirit.

Once we’d moved on from encouraging people to leave unpleasant things in room 429, it turned out Johnny’s a big fan of the show and owned it on VHS (so did I).  He thinks of the main characters, Holly would win at “Taskmaster” and had good reasons for that conclusion.  

He was dubious about the pink costume he wore in “Timewave” as he thought it might take away from the character but said he eventually decided he needed to get over what he was wearing and just go for it.  He also said one of his worst working moments was on “Benidorm” when he had to hold his breath underwater in a freezing swimming pool and his co-star kept forgetting her two lines so they had over 30 takes.  Ouch.

Johnny left commenting that he got less love at his 50th birthday party.  But we hadn’t seen the last of him by any means as people kept buying him drinks during the Auction, leading to him successfully bidding for one of the items on offer.

And then he was back for the Karaoke.  Now if you - as he informed us - had to undergo emergency dental surgery in the morning and had practically lost your voice, would you sing karaoke?  And not only that, would you sing a version of “Love On The Rocks” which lasted 11 minutes according to someone on Twitter (I wasn’t timing it, but I can believe it), followed by the full-length version of “American Pie”?

If you answered no, you’re clearly not Johnny Vegas.  He went to bed so late that the unfortunate Fan Club team member assigned to look after him got a grand total of 90 minutes’ sleep.

Saturday

DOTP and I had paid for the Photoshoot with Mr Vegas, Danny John-Jules and Ray Fearon.  We got in the queue at 9am which was when it was supposed to start.  An hour later we were still waiting.  Yep, Danny was late.

Once he made it to the hotel, I got my photo in front of a Science Room backdrop.  You might think Mr Vegas would be hungover and rushing through it, but on the contrary, he was still enjoying the hell out of proceedings which was refreshing to see.  Since he’d been added to the line-up too late to be in the souvenir booklet, he signed extra inserts for the Fan Club which they handed out to everyone at the later Autograph sessions so attendees got his autograph after all even though he’d finally left.  That’s what I call throwing yourself into an event.

Next up was a combined Q&A with Danny and Ray (originally separate but Danny’s lateness meant they were teamed up).  This wasn’t a problem at all though - on the contrary, it worked really well as the chumminess between them added to the vibe.  Also it was Ray’s first convention so he probably preferred to have Danny backing him up, especially since the poor man tripped on his way to the stage and almost fell.  I don’t think he was hurt but I cringed with secondhand embarrassment and empathy.  He wasn’t the only one to fall foul of the edge of the stage that weekend; I think it was the slightly raised dancefloor in front of it.

As is usual for Danny, we were treated to over half an hour of what you can only really describe as a stream of consciousness as he pontificated about various things.  He and Ray did also talk about working together on “Death In Paradise” and Ray described his worst working experience there - he had to play a scene in a club in 45 degree heat with a live snake wrapped around his neck!

Ray is attractive in a “Hollywood hunk” way and Danny was clearly conscious of this, joking that he’d “brought his own security with him” and muttering “I’m better-looking anyway!”  But all in a jokey way as they’re clearly friends.

Danny had come from filming and dropped a heavy hint that he’s appearing in a Dickens adaptation which I imagine will be shown at Christmas as they generally are.  He also complained that Craig Charles never answers his phone: “You send him a message and he answers it on Twitter a month later!”  (Interestingly, Chris Barrie later mentioned a recent phone conversation with Craig so make of that what you will.)

Ray was quieter but happy to talk about the vagaries of showbiz and typecasting - he said that due to his Shakespearean background he gets a lot of serious roles so people were genuinely surprised that he could also do comedy but “I was always funny!”  He also gently teased Danny about the age of some of his references before admitting he still finds Tommy Cooper funny.

Danny usually performs “Tongue-tied” with a good grace when inevitably asked to by an audience member but perhaps it’s finally starting to pall as this time he did it in the style of Oliver Reed’s Bill Sykes and included a lot of X-rated references to cunnilingus etc.  It was entertaining though.

Next up was a live Q&A (over Zoom) with Chris Barrie.  Danny decided to stick around as he wanted to show Chris something he’d ordered online.  It took a while to get the cameras in the right position for Chris to be able to see it and Danny needed a knife to open the parcel, leading Chris to quip “Is this a good time for me to step out for some lunch?”

However, it turned out to be worth it as it was a custom-made Ace Rimmer doll which impressed Chris with its quality and he complimented the maker.

Danny and Ray then departed for their lunch and to take part in the Coffee Lounge which this year had reduced its numbers for Covid-related reasons and held a ballot for entry in the interests of fairness.  Amy and I didn’t get in but happily stayed for the rest of Chris’s Q&A.

In the “working from home” spirit, Chris was in a hoodie in his living room as opposed to his more usual smart suit.  He was suitably relaxed and revealed he got through lockdown by concentrating on the things which make him happy, such as his hobbies, his garden and his family.  His favourite episodes are “Marooned”, “Dimension Jump” and - less predictably - “Twentica”.  He also referred to a recent “mannerly, as he would call it” phone conversation with Craig.  No details but it had clearly been a positive experience.

Amy decided to liven up the ending of his Q&A by asking a vitally important, “TPL”-related question.  Whom would Rimmer find more attractive, a female version of Lister or a female version of Cat?

Once the laughter had died down and Chris had bought some time by pointing out that “neither of them are women”, he gave the question appropriate consideration.  He pondered whether Rimmer would be more taken by the “simple charms” of Lister or the “feline grace” of Cat.  This next bit is courtesy of Amy as my memory isn’t infallible: He said it’d be a choice between a feline form or a rounder, a bit more slovenly woman - he wouldn’t want the perfectly feline woman because she might not like his imperfections, but he also wouldn’t want someone who ate curry three times a day.  “Basically, a balance would be ideal.”

That was the last question but Chris provided a little more entertainment as he had a “How do you turn this off then?” moment a la Gordon the computer in “Better Than Life” and made amusing faces as he figured it out.  If it was anyone but Chris I’d think it was a deliberate reference to that but I think he was genuinely befuddled.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Autographs with Hattie, Danny, Ray and Norman Lovett.  I got the latter three to sign the “TPL” poster I’d brought with me but gave Hattie the booklet instead as it seemed more tactful.  She complimented the dress I was wearing and I returned the compliment, telling her how much the fans appreciate the effort she makes with her DJ outfits.

Norman commented how there’s a version of the “TPL” poster he isn’t on, bemusedly.  Fortunately mine was the version including him. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon chilling in the bar with Amy, Lapsang and Barbs, chatting to other attendees.  Graphic Designer Matthew Clark was now in the Merchandise Room with various props from Series XII and “TPL” including the Starbug manual used onscreen.  I got his autograph on my poster but it’s an incomprehensible squiggle.  Oh well.  He was very friendly and easy to talk to.

After a break for dinner, the Main Hall reopened for the Costume Competition.  This seems to get better every DJ, with an amazing “Greyscale Rimmer” who was discomfiting to be around due to the corpse-like makeup, a Natalina Pushkin, a Nirvanah Crane who could almost have been Jane Horrocks herself and a Diving Suit Cat from “BTE”.  Other entries included Rimmer’s Mum, “Giraffes who were armed and dangerous” and a Confidence And Paranoia who were later pictured at the bar chatting to Paranoia himself, Lee Cornes.

We then had a special video message from Doug Naylor which I won’t go into as I’m sure everyone’s already heard the details.  Suffice to say, his tone was positive.

The second Auction was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who made it more entertaining by adding his own commentary to each item.  This was followed by a stand-up set from Norman.  It was amusing but he misjudged the mood a bit, I feel.  When you’re waiting for a disco to start and it’s already hours late due to Danny’s tardiness, you don’t particularly want to contemplate your own mortality.  We were here to get away from all that, as much as possible.

Anyway, the Disco was a lot of fun even if Dave Benson Phillips’ presence as host was sorely missed.  Hattie danced for the best part of an hour alongside everyone else.  The stand-in DJs did their job and I stayed until the end.  The final two songs were “Bohemian Rhapsody” and … “Tongue-tied”.

Sunday

Not being in the Sunday Photoshoot, Amy and I had a nice leisurely breakfast and got over last night’s festivities before the first Q&A, live over Zoom with Robert Llewellyn.

This was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who in his capacity as Dave era audience warm-up knows Robert well.  Clearly well enough to get away with teasing him relentlessly about not being at the con in person until poor Robert was a mess of Krytenesque guilt.  

His protestations that he’d been scheduled to be in Munich this weekend but no longer was (he was at home) only made things worse.  Ian: “Oh, so that’s two sets of people you’ve disappointed now!  Stop saying yes to things!”  It was hilarious and Robert took it in its intended spirit.  Also Ian was getting a measure of revenge for Robert - in character as Kryten - dry humping him at recordings.  One attendee asked “With the groinal attachment?!”

Robert admitted that he finds Kryten’s various groinal attachments hilarious and if he was writing the show they’d be in every episode.  He praised Doug’s restraint.

He also admitted that in “TPL” he had an earpiece to have his lines fed to him.  Since it’s controlled by an iPad, certain unscrupulous cast members took great delight in feeding him rude ones.

He still intends to update “The Man In The Rubber Mask” but atm “Fully Charged” is consuming a lot of his time as it’s become much more successful than he anticipated and he’s in charge of several people.

Surprisingly, he would hate appearing in RD without the Kryten makeup, both because it’s become much quicker to apply and because it provides him with a shield and he becomes Kryten and forgets stagefright.  He still can’t watch “DNA” for that reason.

Lapsang, who played Kryten in “Into The Gloop”, asked Robert if he’d seen it.  He hadn’t but said he was now very curious and would find a way to.

Next up was Lee Cornes aka Paranoia who said he originally auditioned for the lead roles and like the other unsuccessful actors got the consolation prize of a guest appearance.  Upon being asked if he’d gone out for a drink with Craig Ferguson’s Confidence, he said no because at the time they had a frosty relationship due to rumours that Craig was plagiarising other comics’ jokes.  Lee said it was all very silly and he’s since apologised.

Interestingly, Lee is a qualified science teacher and carried on with that career alongside his media one, leading to surreal situations where his pupils would ask: “Sir?  Were you on the telly last night?”  “Yes.”  “Are we on the telly now, sir?”

Someone asked a good question - what would Lister’s Paranoia be like now 33 years later?  Lee would be willing to reprise the role but isn’t sure it would work as the original had a childish quality whereas he feels now the character would be a lot darker and less funny.  Lee was both thoughtful and entertaining in his responses.

He was followed onstage by Hattie and Norman, who resolutely refused to rise to the bait of an audience member attempting to stir up a rivalry between them.  That only works when one isn’t the nicest person you could meet.

A tactless audience member asked both if they’d watched “TPL” instead of directing the question at Norman.  Luckily Hattie had seen it and particularly enjoyed the cat flap joke although she felt there was a little too much focus on the guest cast.

Norman didn’t really watch RD after he left but Hattie has seen Norman’s early episodes as he lent them to her back when she was originally cast as Hilly for research purposes.  Bear in mind this was 1988 when they weren’t even available on VHS so presumably he recorded them off the TV.  

Hattie confirmed with a sigh that she’s simply never been asked to return in any capacity: “That’s the short answer.”  What the hell, I’ll say it one more time - Bring Back Hattie!  One episode, that’s all I ask.  As it stands, it’s starting to look like a pointed and deliberate snub which mystifies me.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Rob Grant and Paul Jackson.  For obvious reasons they didn’t go into the current legal mess, opting instead to entertain the fans with the story of how they met and their early pre-RD work (Rob and Doug as freelance writers for Paul’s producer).

We saw some clips from their early shows including “Three Of A Kind” with Lenny Henry, Tracy Ullman and … later magician David Copperfield; apparently they all had the same agent and Paul took on David as a favour.  For a 40 year old show it held up pretty well and was in much better sound and picture quality than older shows often are. “Carrott’s Lib” was just as funny.

It’s a bit hard to summarise but this session was entertaining and gripping.  Rob still wants to write another RD novel and I believe there’s nothing actually stopping him as both he and Doug had an option to write a second solo novel.  So we’ll see.

The final Q&A was Matthew Clark who was very informative and interesting, showing us numerous production stills from Series XII and “TPL” and talking us through them.  There was a groan when time was called before he was finished.

By now time was running short and Amy and I went back to the room to pack and leave our luggage with reception before watching the start of “Dibbley Family Fortunes”. Since I knew I wouldn’t have time to watch it all, I instead nipped upstairs to Autographs with Lee and Ian, timing it perfectly as the queue had almost vanished.

Ian was still performing, drawing scornful attention to the fact that Lee had a longer queue: “Can you imagine all these people queueing to see Lee Cornes?!”  It sounds rude out of context but he was clearly joking.

I decided to ask Lee what flavour the yogurt Paranoia eats was.  He said it didn’t really taste of anything as it was the cheapest, nastiest canteen yogurt available and was also starting to curdle under the studio lights so eating it can’t have been much fun.

Since I now had about 15 minutes before I had to go, I caught a bit of Dibbley Family Fortunes, said goodbye to Amy, Lapsang and Barbs and then dashed off to catch the tram to the train station.  Another great DJ.

[writing-fool]

mlqc | like it’s a bad thing pt. 1

I think these are ‘fighting’ scenarios, but I’m not 100% sure at this point. It’s like a ‘relationship on the cliffs’ thing. Pt. 1 for Victor and Shaw because I noticed these were getting a tad long. And they kind of carry the same theme, I guess. Wanted to include Lucien, but I ended up not being able to finish his for now...so if I make the next part, he’ll probably be on there.

I’m still working on a hp!au for Victor, but that may take a while since the inspiration doesn’t seem to be arriving anytime soon. It’s all been a bit tough, sorry. I say this all the time, but I apologise for the lack of fics; my writing pace’s been slow.

As always, enjoy the read!

Love,

R.

Warning(s): slight angst, profanity, mention of mature content.

Victor

You love Victor. You really do. But sometimes, just sometimes you wonder why you put up with this man and his bullshit. A great downside to being involved both romantically and professionally is that those types of relationships tend to bleed into one another. This could be in the form of an office quickie...or something a lot less fun. 

On the outside, Victor may seem put together, but you know him well enough by now that this month has been incredibly stressful for him. But so has it been for you. Safe to say, it’s been tense, even at home. Victor’s constant nagging about work performance and his snide comments at your so-called slacking off have pushed you to the breaking point, and you’re really not going to sit there and take it today.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying? LFG can’t move forward with your company if you continue working at this inefficient pace. You, as the head of a company, should know how to improve the quality and efficiency of your work.”

You sigh, not taking your eyes off of the laptop in front of you as Victor exasperatedly throws another one of your proposals on the coffee table. “I get it. Just give me some time.” You rub your temples, getting back to your own work.

“Do you? It doesn’t seem like you get the point here. You. Do. Not. Have. Time,” he harshly points out.

“You know you’re able to manipulate time, right?” You raise an eyebrow and look up at his unamused face. 

“I can’t favour you like this. Did you really think I was going to stop time to solve your inefficiency problem? You can’t rely on others all the time. A company that can’t pull itself up is use—” 

Something in you snaps at that very moment. “I get it. We’re useless, inefficient, and we’re so lucky LFG is even willing to support this failing company. I’m a useless boss, I can’t do anything right, I’m leeching off of my rich, CEO boyfriend to get ahead, I fucked my way to the top, whatever. Tell me something I don’t know,” you snarl, slamming your laptop shut with a resounding snap.

“You know that’s not what I’m saying.” Victor’s glaring now, sharp, stormy eyes boring into yours.

“Oh, do I?” you mimic his words, narrowing your eyes, “Because you sure don’t seem to tell me otherwise. I can’t read minds, Victor, and all I hear from your mouth are insults telling me how incapable I am as a boss. So pray tell, how am I supposed to think I deserve my job when not only the entire business world, but also my own fucking boyfriend tells me I don’t?”

Victor’s clearly taking aback by your sudden outburst, but his need to get his point across in this argument seems to win over the instinct to lighten your mood at this very moment. “First of all, I don’t know why you care what others say—”

“Because I’m human! Maybe you don’t think of people calling you names anymore because they’re lost in the sea of people literally grovelling at your feet, but I’m not you,” you rub your temples again, voice lowering as the mental exhaustion kicks in.

“I don’t know if I can live like this anymore. Fuck Victor, you make me feel like a failure and you just don’t seem to care.” You push past his stunned form and head to the bedroom.

“Sleep in your office if all you care about is work.” You glance back at him for the last time before slamming the bedroom door shut.

Victor messed up. Royally. He didn’t mean to take his stress and anger out on you and he definitely didn’t mean to act like your boss at home. 

He’s been trying to get back to work for the past two hours while giving you some space, but the lingering guilt and worry in the back of his mind prevent him from actually doing anything productive. What if you really meant it? What if this is it? He can’t lose you just because he acted like an idiot. Victor’s always assumed you knew he cherished you more than anything in the world...but maybe he’s been neglecting you as a partner.

With a steel resolve to make it right, Victor leaves his home office and walks to your shared bedroom. The light from the hallway streams in as he opens the door, illuminating your sleeping figure. You’re curled in on yourself in a protective, almost guarded way, something you never do (you’re usually the kind of sleeper that has their limbs flopping everywhere on the bed). Victor feels a sharp pang in his heart at the notion of seeing you look this broken...because of him.

Gently, as to not wake you, he shuffles to the dresser, carefully taking off his shirt and folding it over a chair. After sufficiently (un)dressing himself, he slides under the sheets. 

Victor tentatively reaches a hand over to touch your arm, only to feel you turn away from his touch. Instead of pulling his hand back, Victor brings his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest.

You’re awoken by the sudden movement, and in your sleepy state, you lean back into the warmth surrounding you.

Victor’s breath grazes your ear as he whispers. “I’m sorry.” Hm?

Your mind slowly registers that the warmth is, in fact, caused by Victor’s body heat, and more importantly, that you’re still very much upset with him. You struggle to get out of his grip, but that only seems to tighten the hold Victor has on you.

“Don’t. Stay with me,” he pleads, voice tinged with despair. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. You still your actions, instead opting to turn around to face Victor.

“I don’t know if this is what I want,” you speak up after a long moment of silence, “I love you, but I don’t want to be stuck in a relationship where I’m not welcomed.”

“Do you feel like you’re stuck here?” Victor asks.

You avoid his gaze. “I’m not sure. It’s not all your fault, but I do wonder whether you stopped caring about me sometimes. You’ve been so harsh to me, lately.”

“I didn’t, I never stopped caring,” Victor takes your hand in his left one, interlacing your fingers, “But I understand that I’ve made you feel insecure and uncared for. I never wanted to make you feel worthless, but I’ve gone too far this time, haven’t I?”

A mirthless chuckle escapes your mouth. “That’s an understatement,” you quip.

You expect Victor to retort back with something mean, revert to his distant self (at least, to the distant person he’s become this month), but instead, he gently cups your cheek with his right hand, raising your face up to look at him again.

A soft kiss is placed on your forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be less harsh, and I’ll do anything it takes for you to forgive me. I’ll fix it all, your insecurities, your anxiousness. So give me one more chance, please. Let me fix it.” Victor’s beautiful grey eyes look into yours, sadness apparent on his face. You lie there for a long while, staring into his sombre eyes in silence.

“You’ll do anything?” you finally ask in curiosity. A resolute nod is your answer. “Even stop talking about work at home?” Victor nods again. You pause for a while, contemplating your next request. “...And take me to Souvenir and make me pudding every day?”

Victor snorts. “That’s the least I can do, dummy,” he chuckles lightly. Suddenly, his eyes widen. “I don’t mean you’re dumb. I just—”

Your soft giggle breaks his anxious ramble, and Victor feels like he’s just won the biggest prize at the lottery. “Just this is fine,” you whisper, “I thought it’d take longer for me to forgive you. But for some reason...I’m just happy to see your old self again.”

Victor sighs, pulling you closer. He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, inhaling deeply. “Dummy, don’t be so kind to me. I won’t know what to do,” he mumbles, relishing in the dark quiet of your bedroom. Truth is, he probably never knows what to do when it comes to you.

“You just have to love me, that’s all,” you pull your hand out of his, instead hooking your pinkies together, “No take-backsies.”

He rolls his eyes at your antics, a fond expression betraying the lack of annoyance behind the gesture. His pinky finger curls around yours ever so slightly, as if it’s desperate to hold onto yours. As if he’s desperate to hold onto you. 

“No take-backsies.”

Shaw

“Not again,” you growl under your breath.

Shaw’s always been popular with the ladies, the gents, and the non-binary friends. Which is fine, it’s fine. You’re not a jealous person. You’ve dealt with people asking him out, people asking him if he was a celebrity and making you take pictures of him and some other person on a date, older ladies in your family groping him whenever you bring him to a family function (which really, isn’t about jealousy. You got mad, rightfully so, because they were harassing him). You can’t even remember how many times one of his campus students has confessed to him. With you right next to him at the table! Is it that unbelievable that I’m his significant other?

But too far is too far.

You walked into the fancy nightclub tonight, expecting to get a drink or two in your system, let loose with Shaw for a couple of hours, drag his drunk ass home and cuddle in bed. Not this. 

The moment you walk in, you spot Shaw’s lavender coloured mop of hair sticking out over one of the booths. But he’s not alone, oh no. He’s surrounded by young men and women fawning over him like he’s some kind of celebrity or host club guest. And even though he looks a little bored, he’s not exactly bothered by the attention he’s getting. Because of course he isn’t. The moment his eyes land on you though, he looks you up and down appreciatively before shooting you a challenging smirk. He reaches over to a long-haired girl next to him, lazily fingering a lock of her hair. She looks up at him with a coy smile, but his amber eyes are fixed on yours, gauging your reaction. Oh, so he wants me to come over? Play the little jealous significant other? Hah! Not today, boy. I didn’t come here to play games. 

You raise an eyebrow, a visibly annoyed expression showing on your face. Instead of heading in his direction, you strut to the bar, shoes tapping rhythmically on the floor. I look hot, I feel hot, and I need a fucking drink. 

You order a bourbon on the rocks, gulping down a large sip of the beverage a soon as it gets to you. Bourbon is made to be savoured. You hear Victor’s voice resounding in your mind from the time he taught you how to judge alcohol for a production. So am I, but nobody’s been thinking of that, apparently. You turn around with a scowl, leaning against the bar. You feel horrible, and the fact that Shaw’s back to his childish antics isn’t making that any better. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips as you tilt your head back, closing your eyes. The flashing lights are blurry, but still noticeable through your closed eyelids. But what you don’t notice, is the man heading over to you from his side of the bar. 

Shaw notices. How could he not? The moment you walked in the room, all he could see was you. And he knows he’s being a little shit, trying to make you jealous like that, but he can’t help wanting to play with you. It’s just a game of push and pull, and maybe he just wanted to see how hard you’d pull for him.

He didn’t expect you to react like that, though.

So here he is, so uncharacteristically walking (or strutting, because he is still sort of himself, after all) away from the admiring crowd of people around him and towards his clearly pissed off lover. And the man who’s clearly trying to chat you up.

“—buy you a drink?” he overhears. Shaw halts and watches the blinding spotlights in the club illuminate the sight in front of him.

He sees you lean closer to the man, foreheads almost touching in a conspiring way, before you shrug and the two of you turn to the bar. The man flags down the bartender, holding two fingers up. He’s just ordering two drinks for himself. That’s it.

His gait picks up again as he sees the bartender slide your favourite drink across the counter. Before you can even take a sip of bourbon, the textured glass is ripped out of your hand. Shaw downs the amber liquid, the burning sensation washing away the bitter taste of jealousy. 

“Thanks for ordering me a drink, honey,” he emphasizes the pet name, grinning at you before turning his head to the man with a fierce glare. The man raises his hands in defense, shakes his head at you with a smile, and promptly heads back to the other side of the bar. Shaw turns to you, the grin slipping back on his face momentarily.

“Already cheating on me?” he asks, masking the slight hurt behind a teasing façade. Shaw plops down on the stool next to you, watching your face. You look slightly guilty at first, but then your expression morphs back into one of anger...and exhaustion. You aren’t actually cheating on me, are you?

“Funny thing for you to say,” you ground out. 

“...So you were jealous.”

“That’s what you take from that?” You stare at him incredulously, his smug grin slowly sliding off of his face. I’m making it worse. Why did I make it worse?

“Jesus, you’re a prick,” you sigh, “No drink can fix this evening. I’m just going to go home. Do what you want, I don’t care anymore.” You climb out of your seat, making a beeline for the exit. Shaw is quick to follow you outside, grabbing your wrist before you can flag down a cab.

“Let me go, Shaw.”

“Hey, hey, it was a joke. You know that, right?” His ears are ringing from the loud music back in the club, but the sudden quiet’s more deafening than any song booming from the speakers. It feels sad, and Shaw hates it.

“I said, let me go.” You’re refusing to look at him. Why is it turning out like this?

“It was a joke. If I let go, you’re going to leave. Don’t leave me,” the slight pleading of his voice makes you turn around to look at his face. He tentatively releases your wrist, and you make no move to leave...yet.

“I don’t want to play these games anymore.”

He looks at you with furrowed brows. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“Is it fun, to try and make me jealous? To remind me of the fact that I’m somehow not suited for you, that after this amount of time, I’m still not enough for you?” you poke a finger into his lithe chest, “Because guess what, you succeeded. I’m jealous. I admit it, you won.”

 “I didn’t—And you took that guy’s offer for a drink! You’re not better!” Shaw suddenly raises his voice, his stance akin to that of a wolf on guard.

“I told him I had a boyfriend! And you know why he bought me a drink? Because he said I looked like I needed a pick me up. And you didn’t even notice! Even worse, you’re the fucking reason I needed one in the first place!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were going to throw a hissy fit over me hanging out with some friends?” he spits out.

“Friends? They were hanging onto you, Shaw! One of those girls had her tits so close to you, she almost suffocated you with them. And you know it,” a humourless laugh escapes your lips, “You love the attention. And we both know I was never enough to provide that for you. So I quit.”

Shaw deflates. “What do you mean, you quit?” 

“I don’t want to be vying for your affection with the rest of them, I guess. It’s selfish of me, but somehow I thought I’d be special, or something,” you scoff, kicking a nearby rock of the pavement, “But I don’t think I am. Not to you. So I think we should stop all of this before one of us gets even more hurt. I think we should break up.”

Shaw halts, burying both of his hands in his hair. His breathing quickens as he processes your words. “No, no, absolutely not. We aren’t breaking up.” he looks at you with the same pleading eyes he used that time when he got sick and begged you to cuddle him instead of getting his medicine. Back then, everything seemed so...lovely.

“I don’t know what else to do, Shaw,” your voice breaks, and Shaw feels his heart shatter at the notion of you hurting this much. “I just don’t know why you do this, I—”

“Because I don’t deserve you.” 

“What?” You shake your head in confusion.

“I know it’s fucked up. Everyone around us knew that I wasn’t deserving of you. Just look at me,” he gestures at himself, “I’m a fucking gangster dating someone who deserves better. So I tried pushing you away, and then you pulled back, and you fought for me. And I just don’t know how to deal with that, ‘cause people don’t do that for me.”

You sigh. “You deserve to be fought for.”

“I don’t. I really fucking don’t. Because here I am, with the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m about to lose them. And it should be what I want because I keep pushing and pushing and pushing, but now the only thing I want is you. I fucked up.”

You lean against a nearby wall, silence hanging above you two before you break it. “I...don’t think this dynamic is healthy,” you start.

“I know, I’m sorry. I fucked up, but I promise I’ll—”

“And if we’re going to try this again, you’re going to have to fix your attitude,” you interrupt him.

“I—you’re serious?” a careful nod has Shaw’s expression turning from dumbfounded to ecstatic. His grin’s back, but now it seems more...genuine. More innocent. 

“Fuck. I can’t believe it,” he tilts his head up to the sky in glee, but soon looks back at you with resolution in his eyes, “I’m going to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever seen.”

You laugh. “Is that a challenge, pretty boy?”

“You bet your ass it is,” he teases, swiftly scooping you up into his arms, “I fucking love you, and I’ll do anything I can to prove it,” he mutters into the crook of your neck.

“Shaw...I love you too, but people are really staring, actually.” You cast worried glances over his shoulder.

“Don’t care.”

“...Of course you don’t.”    

Shaw’s scenario was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, to be fair. I think I made him pretty OOC, but I’m filling in a lot of the blanks in regards to his personality, and for some reason he has serious trauma and insecurities here, which is either kinda valid, or projecting. I don’t know if I’m satisfied with it...but it’s going I guess.

[kpop-zone]

A Little Longer pt.3 | Jennie

Warnings: indicated smut, mentioning of blood, a few curse words, alcohol abuse

Wordcount: 4,765

A/N: Sorry guys for the mini hiatus, I just got really caught up writing this and forgot writing anything else. This story is still not finished, but I really wanted to post something, so here’s Part 3 for now. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

Part 1 Part 2

Jennie giggled silently as she stumbled through the hallway to the living room.

“This one looks like a butt.”

She laughed when she looked at one of Jiyong’s paintings. Fascinated, she paused in front of it while taking a few more sips from a bottle that she had stolen from the kitchen. Loud chatter from the living room, however, reminded her again what she was doing here in the first place.

“Oh right, I can’t let the nobs wait.”

Shakily, Jennie continued her way until she reached the entrance of the living room. The guests inside were all engaged in a lively conversation and their happy faces were disgusting her. They were all so pretentious and selfish. After another hefty sip from the bottle, Jennie put it down in the hallway and stumbled into the room. Not everyone noticed her right away but after she accidentally ran into a cabinet in the process of trying to walk straight, all heads turned the same time. Jennie tried her best to play it off, but when she noticed your gaze resting on her, her knees felt even weaker than before. The way to her seat suddenly seemed to be seven miles long; especially because the whole room was spinning. But eventually, she plopped down on her chair, feeling the eyes of the other guests burning holes into her.

“Excuse my interruption, I haven’t eaten anything today and was feeling a little dizzy.”

Jennie uttered tediously, feeling like her tongue was heavy like lead. Sheepishly, she let her gaze wander around the faces in the room. Some were still staring at her skeptically, but soon all of them flashed her a reprieving smile before returning to their conversation.

“Back to what I was saying. I think that actress must be an arrogant diva. Denying a fan an autograph? As if she didn’t owe her whole career to her fans...”

The same man that had made the inappropriate comment about your plus one (Jennie refused to call her your girlfriend) scoffed, and Jennie couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. Usually she was already used to dimwitted remarks like that, but the alcohol had unfortunately lowered her level of tolerance.

“Yeah right, because she belongs to the public, doesn’t she?”

Jennie snarled, feeling her bottled-up emotions threatening to burst. The guy looked like a ghost had just appeared in front of him, apparently not being used to someone talking back.

“No, that’s not what I meant. But celebrities hold a certain responsibility that they can’t just discard.”

He responded self-opinionated, causing Jennie to laugh bitterly. She was tired of people making her feel like they were omniscient and had complete power over her.

“Responsibility? Responsibility for what? To make a wimp like you feel powerful?”

After Jennie’s statement the whole room fell quiet. Her words had been harsh, but they were true, so she didn’t even think about apologizing. With a triumphant smirk she looked into the dumbfounded face of the guy, watching how he struggled with his words.

“Jennie, you must be drunk. We don’t know you like that.”

Hyerim, another one of her so called “friends”, broke the silence in order to safe him from further embarrassment.

But Jennie had had enough of this.

Everyone at this table could go to hell as far as she cared. They were stuck in their own little worlds, too occupied with themselves to try to emphasize with someone else. And she couldn’t stand being in such a toxic environment right now. Therefore, Jennie pushed her chair back with force, causing it to loudly fall over before storming out of the room without any further explanation.

“Such an asshole!!”

She yelled in the hallway after slamming the front door shut before weaving to the elevator.

This whole dinner had been a dead loss and Jennie regretted having talked Jiyong into hosting it. Angrily, she kicked against the elevator door because she had to wait way too long to finally be able to leave this godforsaken place. But even after she had left the building, Jennie couldn’t calm down. The alcohol had failed its purpose to make her numb and had stirred up all her emotions instead. It felt like her whole system was overheating. Her brain was working at full capacity, her heart was slamming against her ribcage and all of her senses were desperately trying to fight against the influence of the alcohol.

Therefore, Jennie had to take several breaks on the way to her car as her stomach needed to get rid of the toxic liquid that was clogging her system. With shaking hands, she eventually reached the car and rummaged around in her handbag until she pulled out her car key to unlock her car. It almost slipped out of her hand, but after fidgeting a while, Jennie finally managed to press the right button. Just when she was about to open the door though, she suddenly got yanked around.

“You’re not driving like that.”

Out of nowhere, you were suddenly standing in front of her, your voice being able to freeze the ocean and your face absolutely unreadable.

“Let go off me!”

With a harsh movement, Jennie ripped herself free from your grasp and huffed in annoyance.

“Give me the key.”

You said calmly while holding out your hand, but Jennie wasn’t even thinking about giving it to you.

“No.”

Childishly, she wrapped her fingers even tighter around it and hid it behind her back.

“Could you please stop behaving like a five-year old?”

Your patience seemed to run out and you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Could you please stop meddling in things that are none of your business? Just go back to your perfect girlfriend.”

Jennie bickered back, apparently striking a nerve according to the sour expression on your face.

“Leave her out of this.”

You snarled, but Jennie’s torn open wounds and the alcohol in her system prevented her from knowing her limits.

“Why? Is she even too good for me to take her name into my mouth? I mean, I understand. She’s really beautiful and her clothes weren’t cheap either, so she has to be wealthy. Must really be a little Miss Perfect.”

She could see that you were gritting your teeth in anger, but you kept calm.

“Just give me the keys, Jennie...”

You sounded like you were tired of this charade, but Jennie was in full spate and didn’t want to stop now.

“We shouldn’t do this to Miss Perfect. You should go back to her and tell her what an awful person I am. Isn’t this why she is here? So you can spite me? To make me realize what a failure I am and-“

Jennie didn’t get to finish her sentence before you finally snapped and cut her short.

“Oh cut the self-pity! You know why she is here tonight? Because she was there for me and you weren’t!”

You huffed in frustration before turning around and storming off, leaving Jennie alone in front of her car.

Why couldn’t you have said that Subin was there because she was prettier than her? Jennie even would have accepted if you had called her nicer. No words could have hurt her more than the ones that you had used.

She was there for me and you weren’t.

Of course, Jennie hadn’t been there for you. How could she have? She had chosen her career over you after all. The one time, Jennie could have proven her love for you, she failed to. Tears started streaming down her cheeks and a silent sob escaped her lips. She just wanted to go home now and lock herself in her dark bedroom forever.

With her shoulders slouched, Jennie turned around to get into the car, but once more, she was stopped last minute. Someone yanked the keys out of her hand, causing her to look back in shock.

You again.

“Get in the passenger seat.”

You growled and this time your face wasn’t unreadable. Anger was written all over it and even your voice trembled, carrying the power of your emotions. Immediately, Jennie realized her limits and obediently walked around the car to get in the passenger seat. After fastening her seatbelt, she turned her head to look at you insecurely. She had never seen you like this before. Your eyes seemed to be spitting fire and your knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

Maybe this night hadn’t only taken a toll on her.

Faster than usual, you sped through the nearly empty streets of the sleeping city while Jennie didn’t dare to utter a word. There didn’t seem to be anything left of the weak pushover that she had toyed around with during your last encounter. It seemed like it was true what people said. What didn’t kill you, did make you stronger; at least you could be the living proof of that. After all the games that she had played with you, all the wounds that she had caused you, you were finally standing up to her.

It was the perfect wakeup call. What had she been thinking? She had promised Jiyong that she would accept your decision tonight. No matter whether you would decide to give her a chance or not. And Subin was a very clear sign that you were not willing to mend things with her. But instead of keeping her promise, she had made a scene like the selfish monster she was. In shame, Jennie let her head hang and bore this suffocating silence, knowing that she deserved your anger. It seemed like the ride home lasted all night, but after an excruciating long time, the steady noise of the engine finally ceased, and you parked the car in front of her apartment.

There were a thousand things that Jennie wanted to say, but she didn’t have enough courage to do so. She just wanted to stick to her initial plan and hide in her dark bedroom forever. Therefore, Jennie quickly threw open the car door and bolted out of the car. The front door of the building was close, yet so far for someone that had an undefinable cocktail of diverse liquors in their stomach. Jennie’s legs just didn’t work like they were supposed to, and she could only just feel her knees giving in when her face already moved towards the ground in a rapid pace. Before it was about to collide painfully though, something wrapped around Jennie’s waist and stopped her fall. She felt herself getting straightened up again and she turned around in confusion, only to find herself standing face to face with you. You were merely inches in front of her to the extent that your torsos were touching; yet you weren’t moving away. Your feet were firmly planted on the ground and Jennie felt shivers running down her spine due to the proximity. Automatically, her gaze flickered to your lips, feeling an unbearable desire to close the distance. Only the knowledge that you were seeing someone else right now was holding her back. But why weren’t you pushing her away? Could it be that you wanted this too? Jennie’s face moved closer to yours like your lips were magically drawing her in. You still didn’t push her away; it would be so easy to get the taste that she was craving.

No.

Jennie jumped back as if someone had just scared her. You were taken. She wouldn’t seduce you. Jiyong had told her that you were finally happy, and she couldn’t selfishly temper with your happiness. Not again. Regret filled Jennie, thinking back about the breakup and the incident at Jiyong’s vernissage. She had never even apologized to you.

“Y/N, I’m s-“

She choked out but she didn’t get to finish as you pressed your finger on her lips.

“Sh.”

You shushed her, causing her to look at you with wide eyes.

You almost had a smug look on your face, leaving Jennie completely confused. But you didn’t seem to care about an explanation. Instead, you suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the entrance of the building. Perplexed, Jennie let you drag her and stumbled behind you without talking back. Together you stepped into the empty elevator, but Jennie wished that someone would be there with you. The tension was making her heart beat five times faster and she gulped thickly when you suddenly stepped in front of her. Like a tiger on the hunt, you silently crept closer, causing her to walk backwards until she reached the wall.

“Why did you get wasted tonight? Can’t you stand to see another woman touching me?”

You asked with a cocky smile on your lips, catching Jennie off guard. She didn’t know what to answer. You were right, but she didn’t want to admit that. Therefore, she tried to shake her head, but her gesture was barely noticeable.

“Did you miss me?”

At last, you had closed the final distance between the two of you and softly pressed your body against hers, causing Jennie to gasp. She could feel your breath on her face, but you didn’t stop moving closer. Your lips were so close that Jennie could almost taste them. But just when they were about to touch, a ringing sound could be heard, indicating that the elevator had reached the right floor. The door opened and you pushed yourself off her with a smirk. Jennie inhaled shakily to recollect herself, but right in that moment, you grabbed her wrist again to drag her behind you. Apparently, her nightmare disguised as a daydream wasn’t over yet. With big steps you crossed the hallway until you were standing in front of her apartment door.

“Unlock.”

You ordered firmly, causing Jennie to flinch.

Immediately, she started rummaging in her bag to search for the keys, but she was too nervous to steady her hands. You had completely thrown her off balance and all the sensory impressions around her were too much for her to take in. In her mind, she still tried to process the scenario in the elevator just now, causing her to lose focus and making it impossible to find the keys. Eventually, you huffed impatiently and yanked the bag out of her hands to get the keys yourself. You merely needed a second before you had found the desired item and cleared the way into her apartment.

Roughly, you pushed Jennie inside before slamming the door shut and pressing her against it. All she could do was to stare at you with wide eyes as you smirked smugly. Slowly, you lifted your hand and tugged a strand of hair behind her ear before letting your finger graze her jawline. Jennie’s eyelids automatically fluttered close due to the sensation and she felt like she was melting under your touch.

“Perfect.”

You whispered, your mouth being so close next to her ear that shivers ran down Jennie’s spine.

When she opened her eyes again, you were staring at her intently and Jennie immediately got lost in your eyes. How she had missed being so close to you. She didn’t know why anyone would ever think that she had power over you when in reality, it was the exact opposite. One word from you and she was quiet; one touch and her heart jumped out of her chest; one look like the one that you were giving her right now and she could feel heat spreading in her core. She just couldn’t bear this tension anymore. She knew that you were having fun right now while teasing her, but she needed to taste your lips at least. Hastily, she leaned forward to grab your hips in order to pull you in, but she grasped at nothing, almost causing her to fall over. You had suddenly taken a step back, causing Jennie to stare at you in confusion.

“Sucks to be left high and dry, doesn’t it?”

You chuckled with an evil smile playing on your lips and Jennie wondered if she had misheard your statement. With her hands still hovering in the air, she stood frozen in place, unable to say a single word, much to your amusement. An ugly laugh caused your chest to tremble and Jennie flinched in shock.

“Oh you are adorable.”

You sighed, although the mockery was not to miss hearing.

“And so, so dumb...”

Slowly, Jennie realized what was going on, but her heart refused to believe it.

“You think, you’re so good, don’t you? You think that just one look will make me fall for you again, right? But you’re wrong. You can’t satisfy me. You never could.”

There was pure disgust in your voice that caused tears to pool in Jennie’s eyes.

“Did you think our little quickie had been enough to make me forget about everything you’ve done? I have always needed more. I wanted your love, Jennie. But a monster like you can’t give me that. I know that now.”

As you kept talking, Jennie felt herself drifting away mentally. She heard your words, she felt them cutting deep into her heart, into her soul, but she couldn’t bring herself to fight back. She didn’t care about the pain anymore. It was what she deserved after all.

“But Subin can give me what I want. She can give me so much more than you. You are nothing but selfish, pathetic and incapable of love. You’ve proven that over and over again. Did you really think, I would ever come back to you?”

You scoffed sardonically, causing Jennie to feel more mortified than ever before. Yes, once again, she had hoped that she could be good enough for you. And once again, she had proven that she wasn’t.  

Jennie didn’t know how long you kept mocking her. It felt like hours. Every word dug a little deeper into her chest and in the end, a huge hole was ripped into it, causing a torrent of blood to gush out of her heart. She felt like a ghost and apparently that was truly all that was left of her, because you didn’t bother to let her defend herself. Instead, you turned on your heel as soon as you were done talking and left her standing there in her misery.

Jennie wished that you had just talked a little longer. Maybe your words could have made the hole in her chest consume her completely, instead of leaving behind the zombie that she was right now. Half dead, half alive and the only antidote to her slow death had just walked out of her life.

---

As you bolted through the front door of the apartment building, you gasped for air as if you had been holding your breath since setting foot in this place. What had you done? That couldn’t have been you. You weren’t one to play dirty; much less one to take revenge. But after Jennie had stumbled into your arms and you had seen the regret and desire in her eyes, you knew that she would be an easy victim. For once, you had the upper hand. You could give her a taste of her own medicine.

But it seemed like you had given yourself a hefty sip of it too. There was a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, and you didn’t feel as glorious as you thought you would. You felt like throwing up. You tumbled over in the little front yard of the apartment complex, but nothing left your body. Because it wasn’t your stomach that was rebelling against you. It was your bad conscious. You didn’t know how Jennie could have survived her games with you unscathed. The picture of her petite figure standing in front of you hunched in pain was engraved into your brain now. And even worse, it had carved into your heart too, ripping it into two.

“Damn it!!”

You yelled, ramming your fist against the tree next to you, causing the skin around your knuckles to break open. Blood was dripping to the floor, but you couldn’t care less.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. You shouldn’t have feelings for Jennie anymore. But why did it hurt so much right now? Why had you almost discarded your plan and kissed her senseless up there? Yes, Jennie had been your drug. But you had been sober for a while now. How long would it take until you finally had her out of your system? Your world shouldn’t revolve around Jennie anymore, it should revolve around...

Subin.

In shock, you ripped your head up, remembering that you had left your girlfriend at a table with a bunch of strangers after giving a highly questionable excuse why you had to chase after Jennie. Subin knew that she was your ex, but you might have left out a few details concerning your relationship. Your girlfriend knew that Jennie had broken your heart, but she didn’t know that it had never mended ever since. And she should never learn. Therefore, you needed to get back to her. Since storming out of Jinyong’s apartment too much time had already passed, and you weren’t sure whether Subin was still waiting for you there. Plus, you didn’t really want to go back again and explain yourself. It would be for the best if you would just go home and simply send Jiyong an apologetic text for being a bad guest. For now, Subin was your priority.

Determined, you walked to the street, only to curse a second later when you realized that you hadn’t come here with your own car. With an annoyed huff, you pulled out your phone to order a car which would cost you precious time that you didn’t have. But there was nothing that you could do. Reluctantly, you waited for the car before ordering the driver to bring you home. Nervously, you sat in the backseat, bouncing your leg and thinking about the consequences of tonight. How would your girlfriend react? You hadn’t only ditched her, you had ditched her for your ex-girlfriend; who you had almost seduced. Frustrated, you grasped your hair. This was a disaster.

“Rough night, hm?”

The driver chuckled from the front seat and you flashed him a tired smile. You weren’t in the mood for jokes right now. You needed an adequate solution. For one, you had to apologize to your girlfriend. A difficult task, but not impossible. For two, you had to get Jennie out of your system. That, on the other hand, was a borderline insane task which needed thorough planning which you weren’t capable of doing tonight. Therefore, you chose to stick to the easier task for now.

You needed to make an overwhelmingly good apology to your girlfriend and you already knew where to begin with that.

“Can we stop by the next convenience store please?”

There was nothing that a sincere apology and some flowers couldn’t fix, so you ordered the driver to make a little stopover. A quick solution which allowed you to find yourself in front of Subin’s apartment 15 minutes later with a bouquet of flowers in your hands and a drafted apology in your head. You looked up at the building from the car, seeing that there was still light in Subin’s windows and you inhaled deeply to calm your nerves.

“You’ve got this buddy!”

The driver gave you an encouraging thumbs up and you thanked him before exiting the car.

Slowly, you walked up to the entry and let yourself in with the key that Subin had given you a while back. For once, you decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator in order to be able to have a little more time to recollect yourself. When you finally reached her apartment door, you felt more or less like you hadn’t made the worst decisions of your life tonight. Your hands had finally stopped trembling and your brain was able to focus on anything else but Jennie again. Therefore, you unlocked the door and silently slipped into the apartment like so many times before.

Inside, everything seemed to be like usual. The TV was running and Subin was sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands. Only when she turned her head to look at you, you gulped thickly. She didn’t seem to be seething in anger, but her gaze wasn’t friendly either.

“Hey, babe.”

You waved awkwardly, but Subin ignored you coldly to pay attention to the TV again. She was definitely mad...

With slouched shoulders, you walked up to her in order to sit down next to her, like a child preparing to be scolded. Regardless of her ignorance, you cleared your throat and started to apologize.

“I’m really sorry, Subin. I know this evening was nothing like it was supposed to be and I really deeply regret how I handled everything. But I can explain.”

Carefully, you glanced up to see how your girlfriend would react. She rolled her eyes in annoyance but turned off the TV in order to pay attention to you.

“This explanation better be good. You left me alone with complete strangers, Y/N.”

If looks could kill, you would be dead by now. But you didn’t let yourself be discouraged.

“It is! You know about my history with Jennie. The thing is that I left a few things out...”

Your statement seemed to have sparked Subin’s interest and she turned her torso in order to be able to look at you better.

“I know that Jennie always seems to be a cold person on TV, but she isn’t. She struggles a lot with her fame, and she has a lot of issues that not a lot of people are aware of. But I am. And I know that she tends to deal with her issues horribly. So when I saw her earlier, I got really worried. I was afraid that she would do something rash, which turned out to be right. She was completely wasted and wanted to drive home. And I couldn’t allow that. So I brought her home.”

Technically, you weren’t lying; at least that was what you told yourself in order to not let your bad conscious drag you down again. Maybe you weren’t necessarily telling the whole truth, but you meant well. You were trying to spare Subin’s heart. She didn’t deserve to get tangled up in this mess. You loved her and that was all that mattered. The rest had to be fixed by you alone.

“Oh I didn’t know that.”

Subin simply said and you saw that her angry demeanor was starting to crumble.

“Of course, you didn’t. You couldn’t have known! And that’s on me. I haven’t told you the whole truth, because I had the feeling that I still had to protect Jennie. But I don’t need to do that. I’m with you and only you. So I need to start behaving accordingly.”

Carefully, you took your girlfriend’s hand, expecting her to pull away, but when she didn’t, you continued.

“I promise that I’ll work on myself in the future. No more erratic decisions and I promise to communicate better. No more secrets.”

You smiled, but you wondered whether Subin was able to see the shadow that laid upon you tonight. You weren’t yourself. You didn’t know who this monster was that looked like you but didn’t act accordingly. But it was shocking to hear those lies rolling off your tongue like they meant nothing. When had you become a perfect liar? You hoped that it wasn’t too late to save yourself though. You just needed a fresh start. You needed to leave everything behind and forget about the past.

Your salvation significantly depended on your girlfriend though, so you looked at her pleadingly.

“Fine, I’ll forgive you. But don’t you dare to ever leave me alone with your weird friends again!”

Subin chuckled and you laughed out loud.

“I promise.”

You whispered as you already closed the distance between the two of you to connect your lips.

Nothing was in the way between you and your fresh start now anymore.

At least that was what you had thought. But like always, it was so much easier to make promises than to keep them. You wanted to be better for Subin; you really did. You were ready to let go of the past, but what you didn’t realize was that it wasn’t ready to let go of you.

And your obliviousness should turn out to be your doom.

[kate-river]

Of Dragonids and Witchers

In which two Wolf school witchers set out for a monster hunt and finally come to terms with their difficult emotional past.

Dear @ohciq this is your secret santa speaking :) I wish you very happy holidays and I hope this adds a few drops of water to your crops! ;)

Thanks @thewitchersecretsanta for hosting this amazing event!

Warnings: none

read on AO3

Geralt smelled the shabby village miles away. Humans, no matter the space they had on offer, created the stench with their infallible ability to destroy their surroundings. Over time Geralt got into the habit of avoiding such places as they were usually tied to all sorts of trouble. And it seemed like this place was no exception  

Suddenly the tracks he had been following came to an end. Geralt sighed and reigned in Roach. He had expected this to happen and still it irritated him. What the fuck was that bloody idiot up to?

Pondering his options Geralt looked around. To his left, just out of the thicket, a narrow uneven trail headed for the village. To his right, it vanished into a light forest. “Great,” the witcher mumbled. It was impossible to further track the soft hoof prints on the stony ground. But he already knew which way to go.

Still, he hesitated for a moment. Why would he hide in such a place? What had kept him from covering his tracks? Something was very fishy and Geralt didn’t like it.

Anyways, he spurred on Roach. Passing a few outcast buildings, an old decrepit barn and a small herbalist’s cottage along the way Geralt made for the village. It wasn’t a big settlement: a few wooden houses, the alderman’s clearly distinguished from the others. And of course, there was an inn. The modest horse shelter in front of it caught Geralt’s attention. A fine black horse was contentedly feeding on hay there and the witcher immediately recognized the Kaedweni bred steed.

He stopped in front of the inn and tied Roach to the shelter. The other horse, clearly trained to avoid a stranger’s touch, did not twitch under Geralt’s caress. Instead he snorted and nudged Geralt’s torso. The witcher couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “It’s good to see you, Scorpion” he whispered and pulled a sugar cube out of his pocket. Roach jealously stomped her front hoof and Geralt turned to treat her just as well. Then he headed for the inn’s entrance.

The main room was pretty dark, only a few tables fitting into the space. Some drunkards were assembled around one of them and from their babbling Geralt gathered that they must have spent a fair amount of time in that inn today.

It took them a few moments to become aware of Geralt, but when they did, their noisy chatter fell silent. The innkeeper however was not impressed by the witcher’s presence. At least he didn’t let it show “Good day to you sir”, he greeted Geralt “What can my humble establishment do for yet another one of your kind?” “Another one?” Geralt asked curiously and the innkeeper nodded towards the corner on his right. A dark figure, covered in a long dirty cloak sat separately at a small table, two long and thin packages lying next to him. Geralt smiled and the innkeeper’s façade started to crumble at this sight.

In the same instant the dark figure got up and pushed back the hood. A face, disfigured yet cordially smiling, appeared underneath. Eskel.

“Glad to see you, Wolf!“ The other witcher hugged Geralt tightly. The embrace was short, brotherly, but like music, there was more to it. It was I missed you just as well as good to have you back. And it lasted a few seconds too long adding an unspoken feeling that lingered between them.

They sat down at the small table in the shady corner and started a casual conversation. After a proper meal their merry chatter grew more serious and finally Geralt asked Eskel what he was actually doing here. Geralt carefully withheld the fact that he had tracked him. Very easily at that. In fact, so easily that Geralt had initially suspected a serious issue, since Eskel had obviously paid no attention to covering his tracks.

“Had a pretty nasty contract down in Lyria. Thought I’d better head for Kaedwen early this year. Also, this fucking weather…” he nodded toward the dirty window and suddenly went silent.

Immediately sensing Eskel’s discomfort Geralt changed the topic. It was no use asking a witcher about things he had encountered on the Path and was not yet willing to talk about. Whatever happened to him sure had been unpleasant but apparently Eskel was out of danger and Geralt decided not to inquire any further.

They slowly found their way back to less serious topics, finally joking about old stories and anecdotes. By then the atmosphere of the inn had somewhat changed. The drunkards had left and only the innkeeper remained behind the bar. While he had appeared rather brave at Geralt’s arrival, he didn’t look anything like it by now. He was frantically cleaning tankards and seemed visibly distressed.

Eskel had already caught on to it and in an instant changed the way he talked to Geralt. “I guess we have a job for Vesemir here” he muttered. It took Geralt a few seconds to understand the code phrase as he hadn’t heard it in quite some time. Focusing on his sharpened senses he also became aware of the light footsteps quickly approaching the inn. “I guess we’ll have a visitor soon”, he growled.

Suddenly the innkeeper vanished into the backroom. The witchers perceived a knock on a wooden door, the timid opening of the same and muffled voices. The man who had approached the inn tried to reach the bar. But the innkeeper didn’t let him through, insistently whispering. “She was my daughter!”, the intruder shouted at him. Eventually the innkeeper lost his patience: “Mihal, you won’t bring her back to life!” “Out of my way, old man!”

Next, they heard a thud and a stubby man with a red face burst into the room. He came running to the witchers and Eskel already raised his hand to cast a sign as the man threw himself to the ground.

“Master witchers, I need your help” he cried desperately and Eskel immediately lowered his hand. “Then speak!” Geralt commanded, adding a bit more emphasis to it than intended.

“There is a monster in the mountains! A flying dragon! It haunts our village and a week ago,” he started sobbing uncontrollably, “it killed my daughter! Please, I will pay you with all I have left. But bring justice to my little girl!”

While the man was regaining his self-control, the innkeeper returned to his place behind the bar. He was pressing a wet cloth to his head and an endless stream of curses left his mouth. “That bloody witch! The wench summoned the demon! We should have burned her!”

“I’ve heard enough” Geralt spat out and shot the innkeeper an irritated glance. He fell silent immediately. “But he’s telling the truth master witcher!”, the red-faced man interfered. By now he was on his feet again, but silent tears were still running over his cheeks. “The damn wench cursed us! She lured the monster into our village! There was a dead sheep and some smelly grasses.”

Eskel shot Geralt a glace. A dead sheep stuffed with buckthorn? The ideal bait for a griffin! Whatever was going on here, somebody really meant to attract a monster!

“Are there still any traces of the bait left?”, Eskel asked calmly. The innkeeper nodded and answered grimly. “The beast turned its back on it as it saw Mihal’s daughter hiding underneath the shack nearby. The minute Mihal ran to her rescue the beast grabbed her with its huge claws and tore her apart. I beg you, please kill that monster for us.”

Still fighting his tears Mihal added: “The attack happened at the old barn on the trail that comes in from the south.”

“I think I know where it is”, Geralt muttered. He got up, Eskel following a moment later. “We will check the area. Meanwhile stay indoors if possible!”

When they rode through the darkness next to each other a familiar feeling welled up in Geralt’s heart. It reminded him of the stolen nights they had spent in the forests of Kaer Morhen, their first attempt to try their newly acquired abilities. It also painfully reminded him of when they had overcome the fear of punishment for walking the Path together. The time they spent in each other’s arms becoming the greatest liability in their lives so far. Eventually the light feeling changed into something heavy and Geralt tried to stop his reverie.

“What’s going on Geralt?” Eskel asked. He was comfortably sitting on Scorpion’s back and seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Did they teach you mindreading at Ban Ard?”, Geralt replied half smiling, trying hard not to let show even more of the things that came to his mind. “Unfortunately, not”, Eskel laughed, “but I still know you well.”

You bloody well do Geralt thought, but he didn’t reply. The bond they had regained over the past few winters was too precious to be tested on silly thoughts.

Eventually they arrived at the barn. The grass around it was grown high and it seemed like the decrepit building hadn’t been in use for years. A crooked sign hung in front of it saying “Do not enter” in the common language.

They examined the surroundings in the pale moonlight, and within a short time they came upon the odour trail of the monster bait. They found some of the remains of a herb stuffed sheep in the thicket nearby and it was pretty clear that the bait had been torn apart by gigantic claws. The sheep had indeed been stuffed with Buckthorn, but there was another herb too. Eskel fished some off it from a tree and identified it as beggartick blossoms. It was a rare herb, and it was usually used to refine fisstech. A strange choice to put into a bait, as it was far more use to the owner when sold to some shady individual for a good price.

“What do you think, Geralt? Beggartick is a weird choice for a bait! Something’s wrong here...”

“Guess we have to have a word with the herbalist. And we should examine the body if they haven’t buried it yet.” The body of a child - disfigured by a dragonid.

“I can take care of the examination”, Eskel said softly. Geralt nodded and was silently thankful that Eskel spared him the horrible sight of a child that could have just as well died from a Witcher’s trial.

After a short discussion they separated and Eskel rode back into the village to find Mihal and his daughter’s corpse. Geralt instead stayed at the abandoned barn and started a search for beggartick in a more extensive radius. One hour after sunrise he admitted defeat and carried on to the more important task that he was responsible for. On Roach’s back he returned to the stony trail that ultimately lead to the village and stopped in front of the herbalist’s cottage.

There was a small garden around it, no curious herbs, but practical ones like fool’s parsley, ribleaf and celandine. Geralt dismounted and knocked at the shuttered door. At first there was no reply but as he knocked a second time a woman answered. “What the hell do you want? Leave me be!”, she frantically shouted.

It took Geralt some time to convince her to let him in, but finally the herbalist opened the door. As he started his inquiries on the buckthorn, she grew impatient, irritated even and tried hard to avoid the topic. But Geralt kept pushing and finally she admitted having stuffed a dead sheep with buckthorn from a nearby lake. It was intended to scare the local folk as they had accused her of witchcraft when she had started a fight with a band of fisstech dealers. She finally wanted to scare them, force them to show some respect. And then it all went awfully wrong. What she had thought to be an old wives’ tale was truly a powerful means to attract monsters. The incident with the small girl was neither planned nor foreseen. Mihal’s daughter had been playing not far from the place where the herbalist had put up the sheep and suddenly a dragon had aimed at the bait. But as it had made out the girl, it had chased her instead and killed her in an instant.

“And you’re sure it was a dragon?” Geralt asked. The herbalist gave a long but vague answer and Geralt made a mental note to discuss the possible dragonids in the area with Eskel.

When she finished the description of the monster, she added some useful information though. She had seen where the monster had come from and returned to – the mountains north of the village – and by her description Geralt was sure to find the monster’s lair there.

“And what about the Beggartick?”, Geralt reminded her after she had finished her story. She sighed and said “You see, I was really tired of this shit. All those people, they come to me for help, for, I don’t know, a magic cure, and in the same breath they call me a witch for all the things they don’t understand. Jacub’s gang is spreading rumors and now half the village would burn me if the chance arises. I simply became furious and saw my chance for revenge!”

Geralt left the herbalist after she had finally admitted the unintended murder of the girl. There was not much to say about her situation and Geralt wondered if leaving the village would change it for the better.

Eskel was already waiting for him at the inn and updated him on his finding about the corpse. In fact there was nothing new about it. Big claws, a bird’s beak and a preference for internal organs were not much to go on.

The witchers finally decided to follow the herbalist’s advice and set out for the mountains. They stuck to the path leading north and by the end of the day they had climbed a rugged hill. Beneath the shoulder of a rock they found a good spot to make camp and they decided to give both the horses and themselves a rest. For some time, they indulged in food and conversation and eagerly discussed their speculations about the monster.

When the night grew colder and the fire between them turned into an appreciated source of heat Eskel pulled out a bottle from his saddlebag. It was a fine distillate of White Gull and Geralt anticipated there was another long night ahead of them.

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

By now they were far from the amount of hooch a human could manage. Their pupils were blown wide and they relied upon their joint forces should the wilderness around them turn hostile.

“Seriously, were did you get this?” Geralt asked and raised the bottle he was holding. An appreciative gesture that made Eskel laugh.

“Won’t tell you Wolf”, he answered mysteriously and fondly looked at Geralt.

He in turn smiled mischievously and lent back against the rock. Maybe Geralt would come back on this later, there must be a good story behind it. But talking of a good story…

“Well, what about your route then? Came across your track. Twice. You’re not trying to cover it up these days?” Geralt said, a teasing smile still on his lips.

Eskel hiccupped silently. It was hard to tell where the melancholic look on his face suddenly came from. Up next, he sighed and gently rubbed his scar. “Stop this, Geralt.”

Even though Geralt didn’t get to the bottom of it, he again felt Eskel’s displeasure. There was no way around it and suddenly it took up the room between them.

“I don’t understand…”

“I see.” Eskel deadpanned and took another gulp from the bottle. Then he went silent. After some time, he stared up into the starry sky. “What do you think the Path would be like if there were different rules?”

“Well, wouldn’t make it any easier, would it?”, Geralt slurred. Through his blurred vision he tried to observe Eskel. His dark hair, the amber eyes, that damn old scar.

“What’s this all about, huh?”

Suddenly irritated, Eskel got up. His movement seemed a little too fast for his current state and his unsteady footing additionally attested to that.  

“Sorry Geralt, but this”, he vaguely gestured back and forth between Geralt and the empty bottles that had started to pile up “is giving me a headache. Good night.” His smile looked crooked and Geralt was reminded of the several times Eskel had overindulged.

When he made it to his bedroll a few minutes later, the awkward smile would not leave him though. In his dreams it turned into an evil grin, a mocking laugh, scorning the warm little feeling that had crept into his heart again this evening.

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

“Geralt?”

An ungloved hand touched Geralt’s shoulder. The touch was accompanied by a soft tingle and the scent of petrichor and leather. This stilled the white haired witcher’s immediate reaction, as he concluded that the hand did not belong to an enemy.

Geralt growled as he sat up and was pretty astonished to see a well-rested, even cheerful Eskel finishing the preparations for a sparse breakfast. Suddenly the warm feeling from yesterday evening returned.

Eskel laughed, cordially and kind this time, and handed him a mug. It contained some kind of herbal tea.

“Didn’t expect that, huh?” he smiled.

Geralt tried to smile back, but yesterday’s white gull still made him hurt. With a questioning look he muttered: “How did you…?”

Taking advantage of Geralt’s confusion Eskel put on his lecturer face and cited: “When there is the risk of intoxication, the witcher has to retreat for meditation.”

“Seriously, in your state?”, Geralt laughed in disbelief.

“Just drink your tea, Wolf!”, Eskel replied softly and started to dismantle their little camp. It was not until Geralt’s headache had ceased that he realized that Eskel must have put something into the tea.

“You bastard, it’s Wives’ Tears, right?” “Let’s rather stick to the meditation story”, Eskel grinned and mounted his horse.

They set out for the high plateau that reared up in the distance. Whatever dragonid was waiting for them it would certainly have its lair in great heights. But great heights came with difficult paths and after hours of traveling Eskel and Geralt eventually decided to leave behind Roach and Scorpion.

Not long after they had dismounted, Geralt discovered a piece of sheepskin in the bushes. It strongly smelled of buckthorn, but as it had been a week since the dragonid incident there was no scent left in the air to track. Still, both Geralt and Eskel grew tense. They were closing in on the monster.

They continued their ascent and finally reached a small trail that lead up to the plateau. By then they walked in silence - alert and ready to fight. Geralt didn’t like the way they approached the monster. The dragonid would most likely attack from above and additionally their lack of knowledge about its hiding place put them at a disadvantage. But that was a witcher’s everyday business, right?

Suddenly Eskel signaled Geralt to stop. He dodged and pressed against the stone wall. Geralt immediately mimicked his movements.

Above them a gigantic griffin raised itself into the air. Its wide-spread wings shimmered red and blue and the gigantic claws on both wings and feet flashed in the daylight.  

Eskel spat some dwarfish curses and the witchers made for the last few steps on the trail. The griffin turned in midair and aimed for them. Eskel only just reached the plateau as the monstrous beast dived over them. It didn’t attack, the dive was simply intended as a warning.

“Damn it”, Geralt cursed and drew his silver sword. How were they supposed to kill such a majestic creature? For a split second he locked eyes with Eskel.

Are you ready?

As the griffin returned Eskel certainly was. He struck it with a blow of Aard and the griffin tumbled to the ground. Geralt lunged at it and dealt a blow to its wing. The griffin reared up and Geralt could jump back just in time. As the griffin took off it tried to grab Eskel who parried the attack with a furious blast of Igni. The immense creature emitted an ear-piercing cry as it withdrew into the sky.

Eskel cursed again but he underestimated the griffin. Instead of fleeing, it turned around and dived down toward the plateau. This time focusing on Eskel only.

Something in Geralt’s brain snapped and he took a leap forward. He barely managed to shove the other witcher aside. In a split second he had to combine this protective move with the Aard sign. Geralt’s magic wasn’t as powerful as Eskel’s but it was enough to knock the griffin off its balance.

Don’t you dare.

Suddenly furious, he turned on the griffin. His movements were fast and flawless, accurate and cold. Pirouetting away under the griffin’s assaults he managed to injure it on a delicate spot just beneath its collarbone.

But then there was a single movement that slipped Geralt’s attention. The griffin tried to strike him with its right wing and when Geralt launched into a counterattack, the griffin started to take flight and grabbed him.

Geralt’s cry mingled with the griffin’s screams as Eskel pierced the beast’s left wing with his sword. The griffin let go of Geralt and turned on Eskel again. It screeched at him and Eskel ruthlessly smashed an Ard sign against it. This time it knocked over the beast and Eskel didn’t waste a second. He darted at the griffin and before it was able to move again, he thrust the silver sword into its heart.

Panting heavily, he jumped off the dead body and ran towards Geralt. The white wolf lay on the ground, hunched over, his face contorted in pain. A long bloody gash gaped over his stomach.

Eskel fell on his knees and in a first impulse he pressed his hands against the ferocious wound. At the touch Geralt screamed in pain. From then on, Eskel couldn’t remember the chronological order of events. At some point he realized that his hands were aching as he had conducted healing magic for Melitele knows how long. Next to him lay an empty vial of Swallow - some of its contents were poured over the wound and the rest of it had hopefully found its way down Geralt’s throat.

As the bleeding ceased, Eskel carefully tried to take off the pieces of armour and clothing that still covered it and he skillfully managed a makeshift dressing of the wound.

Geralt made a few muffled noises, but his heartbeat had become steady again. “Hey Wolf, can you hear me?”, Eskel asked softly. Geralt grunted and Eskel went on, “I have to get the horses – you’ll need stitches when the magic wears off and I don’t have any equipment here.”

“Hold on to me!”, Eskel continued and ever so carefully lifted the other witcher, not actually relying on Geralt’s cooperation. He laid him down under the shelter of a small rock and tried to make him comfortable with his cloak. Then Eskel bent over him and slipped his last vial of Swallow into his hands. “I’ll be right back. Stay safe, Wolf”, he whispered and turned around before Geralt could see how worried he actually was.

Searching the horses took Eskel longer than expected and when he finally managed to force Scorpion and Roach up the uneven trail, it was already getting dark. He was instantly back at Geralt’s side and sighed in relief as he realized that nothing had happened in his absence.

After Eskel had unpacked their bedrolls and prepared a small fire, he fished out his equipment from Scorpion’s saddlebags and got ready to tend to Geralt’s wound properly. He worked in silence, expert and precise, but the memories that were tied to patching Geralt up tormented him. When he finally finished, he saw that Geralt’s witcher medallion was twisted around and reached over to set it right again.

Then he saw the plain stone framed on the reverse of the medallion. It showed a hastily carved rune of Quen. Eskel remembered it all too well. He had crafted it for Geralt as some kind of protection for his first year on the Path. The older witchers had punished him for “excessive attachment” to somebody else, but the stone still remained. Eskel did not know that Geralt had kept it all along the way through everything that had happened to them.

“You kept it after all those years?”, he stammered, trying hard not to show any of the feelings he had buried deep inside, ever since their emotional attachment had turned into a problem.  

“Always”, Geralt said slowly and reached for Eskel’s hand.

The two witcher had never been good with words and so Eskel just cherished the moment. Not long afterwards Geralt fell asleep and Eskel eventually decided to rest a bit too.

He would not let go of Geralt’s hand though. Instead he knelt down next to him and sunk into a light meditation. When Vesemir had taught them how to meditate they had also started like this – with touch as their only focus.

It was still dark when Eskel opened his eyes again. The fire had nearly burned down and Eskel added some more wood to it. In the meantime, Geralt turned and made an uneasy sound.

“Are you awake, Geralt?”

Geralt only groaned, but he already tried to sit up as well as possible.

“You asked me why I didn’t cover my tracks…”, Eskel took a deep breath. Somehow the words came to him and he knew if he didn’t say them right now, he probably never would. “I missed you. Badly. There were rumours you were in Daevon, so I rode up to Kaedwen hoping to catch up with you. There was a day where I felt like I had crossed your path and from there I stopped covering my tracks. I was hoping you’d find me. Well, you eventually did. But then some foglets came first and followed me for days. It was constantly raining and I didn’t want to fight them until I knew how many of them there were. But they ambushed me and I ended up in that damn village. I am glad you found me, Geralt. I just missed you so much.”

Carefully he squeezed Geralt’s hand. Geralt reciprocated and suddenly he softly pulled Eskel closer.

“You damn fool”, he said slowly. “I missed you too, you know?” Then he pressed a chaste kiss on Eskel’s lips.

The soft touch was neither a confession nor a vow. It felt like a permission – a permission to explore unspoken feelings and experience closeness in a new way. And that was it. Plain and simple.

[draven-imani]

Journal 6

Today was another long day. Another very long day. I don’t even know how to begin to express how much happened today.

We broke fate.

We did what we came to the Grey Garrison to do and according to a higher being we weren’t actually meant to have done that but we did anyways and it changed everything. It changed an entire timeline. We did that. I’m still processing that.

Let me start from the top.

We made for Old Kenabres first thing in the morning. We were given a number of supplies from Arashniaval for our strike force, while Horgus was using his own funds to supply the main troops. The Silver Legion and the units Commander Tirabade had been able to muster rode ahead and drew away the brunt of the demonic forces, leaving the Grey Garrison mostly unguarded. The Commander did not join the forces drawing distraction, however. She would be fighting alongside us to reclaim the shard of the Wardstone from Deskari’s hands. And she was not the only one. This morning the envoy the Commander sent down to speak with the First Descendants returned as well. And they came alongside forces from below ground lead by Lann, ready to join the fight against the demon scourge. Lann and a number of his rangers joined our strike team. Each of us paired up with a ranger, with the group deciding I should team up with Lann since I was the captain of this mission. I had no arguments there. Lann proved to be a very capable marksman. Even without cold iron arrows he managed to do some damage to some of the demons we faced, which is more than I could say for most people.

If we ever have a moment when we aren’t fighting for our lives for once, I wouldn’t mind having a chance to chat with him outside of life-threatening situations. Lann seems like a good guy. But apparently my life is going to be getting really busy really soon, so that’s probably not in the cards.

As we approached the grey garrison, we saw two sentries. We identified the twisted reanimated mockeries as vermleks, parasitic demons who puppeteer corpses of the dead. The victims in question were High Commander Hulrun, and the head of Nyserian Manor ironically enough. It would seem Lord Nyserian met with a terrible fate when he presented Commander Tirabade’s sword to the demons, in a bid to try to get safe passage and a position of power. We found proof later that this was their punishment for him not giving it to them sooner. Serves a coward and a traitor right, for the innocent blood on his hands.

My feelings about Hulrun are more complicated. He was a powerful crusader. He should have been able to stand up against the demons as a symbol of strength against the tide of evil. Instead he was felled and turned into a mockery. So I found what they did despicable and I wanted to put him to rest. But I also never found him to be the height of what we could stand for. He was no Irabeth Tirabade. At one time he was a paranoid man who brought out the worst in our people for many years. He led the witch hunts, which may have been a little before my time, but the effects of which still echo down. I…deeply fear what would happen if anyone found out about the mark I keep under wraps.

Whether he truly become better or simply had others who advised him to tone it down, I will likely never know now. And quite frankly it doesn’t matter, as he is dead and we have more pressing matters than the past to contend with.

Speaking of that accursed mark, it was bleeding a stream of blood worse than ever before, and burning like someone had taken a hot iron to it. I couldn’t help but flinch, and the others couldn’t help but notice the bandages that were already stained red before we had even entered battle. I…promised to explain later. And I suppose I will have to, if it’s going to cause so much blood that I cannot hide it around so many demons. I will have to find a new method. Perhaps a bracer of some kind…

Hiskaria asked ‘you too’ when I started rubbing at my arm initially, and showed me a mark on her back. It was not anything near the same as the festering mark on my wrist. She had some sort of large glowing spiral birthmark on her back. Although there was one thing in common I found: both appeared the day our families died. Hers was reacting here as well, which was apparently abnormal. Hers had something to do with the Riftwardens—which now that I think about it she’d kept buddying up to Arashniaval frequently, going to him to comfort him when he thought the Riftwardens died despite just meeting him, and he’d reacted to her in surprise when we’d first met her.

For now, however, we needed to focus on the mission as hand. There were two demon sentries. If we took them out fast, we might not alert the entire temple of our presence right away. Luna did her usual thing, going invisible and sneaking up on one, getting a good swing in on it, although not enough to destroy its host. Commander Tirabade charged in behind her, stabbing it, and Melody joined her.

Hiskaria and I focused on the other. Radiance was more insistent than ever that these demons be cleansed—the bodies of the faithful needed to be freed and put to rest properly.

These creatures took a beating and still remained standing, sending wave after wave of negative energy through us with mass inflict wounds. The Commander cut down the one who was possessing Hulrun—trying to be respectful of the dead, although once Luna got started insulting him for the witch hunts it was hard for any of us to not agree with her points that the man was kind of an ass. Still, the demon was dead and I’d at least follow Radiance’s request to lay his body to rest later, even he deserved that much.

The other demon devoured its host, but was then skewered through on Melody’s glaive, leaving the courtyard outside the temple silent.

Then Melody looked up. She told us in a hushed voice that she saw her goddess’ songbird. But also a twisted being who looked like a humanoid woman with a clawed locust’s arm. An oracle of Deskari. And probably a powerful one at that if her body was twisted in such a manner.

This would be no easy task. But we needed to get to the wardstone and destroy it, to keep it from being used as a weapon and turning our own symbol of protection against our unsuspecting men and women on the front lines. Whether it would be easy or not didn’t matter.

Luna slipped ahead of us, practically vanishing as she pulled her hood over her head and she seemed to become one with the shadows with her mastery of stealth. I focused on Iomedae’s blessings, using her mastery of the warrior’s ways to try to keep up with my swift footed companion.

A fight had already broken out by the time I arrived. Luna had snuck up behind a tiefling cultist and liberated his head from his shoulders. The rest had tried to swarm her, but she was not an easy woman to harm in such a way. Lann shot an arrow into the fray, catching the attention of one of the tieflings and drawing him out of the room to me, which I swiftly cut down. The rest were taken care of by Hiskaria’s arrows and Luna and Melody’s blades.

Now that we were inside of the temple, Radiance’s energy was feeling more insistent than usual. They told me that this was once a temple to Iomedae, and it should be cleansed and returned to its former glory. I got the sense that they meant immediately, not after we got rid of the demons. At first as I cleared the demons I argued with Radiance, telling the sword that I needed them to be patient—if we tried to cleanse the temple before we got rid of all the demons, the demons would just desecrate it again.

What made me change my mind was the room with the arms.

I am not going to describe the room with the arms. Just know that…the demons and their cultists made some very visceral and disgusting idols in mockery of our holy places.

I was ambushed by several cultists of Deskari in that room. Which was a veeeeeery good way to get some very recently acquired bad feelings out of my system. With some help from the others, we cleared out the three cultists who thought they would be adding me to their sick idol. Sick bastards.

Then Melody opened a door. And got a bomb right in the face.

Because alchemists suck like that.

Luna went in with her axe, but the man had a spell on that made hitting him difficult, he shifted around the attacks, our visuals on him were blurred and difficult to see correctly. Hiskaria got a bright idea, and cast magic missile on him.

I liked that idea, and produced a wand of magic missile we’d been given by Arashniaval, and did the same. Between the two of us and Luna, we beat away at the alchemist. He used a smoke bomb to try to hide from the missiles. Hiskaria got in closer, drew fire from him, and was able to give me enough of an idea of where he was that I could get up in his face and cast it once more. Which was all we needed.

From there we only had one way to go. Which was behind a locked door Luna was having difficulty opening. We decided to work together to smash through it. With Luna taking point, we threw everything we had into it, and finally managed to burst the door.

Straight into a room with a tiefling and three dretches.

It wasn’t actually that difficult. Luna ran past the dretches and took on the tiefling. Commander Tirabade and Melody took on the dretch nearest the door, which I used the Commander’s shield for cover to slip in and attack the one next to her, Radiance giving me a particularly spectacular moment killing the dretch in a single swing. The final dretch tried to flee, but Luna took a swing at it as it did, then ran after it and ended it before it could try to warn anyone on the second floor.

We were a little bruised, but not so much that we felt like we needed to sound the retreat yet.

Radiance was even more insistent, and I was feeling a bit twitchy after the aforementioned room as well. I requested some time to clear out the bottom floor before we continued on. The others agreed, as it would give them some time to check for anything of value on the bodies they may have missed.

So, I got to work. First clearing out the…aforementioned room. Doing burial rites for the desecrated bodies and for Hulrun while I was at it. Then I cleaned the prayer room. Which had an interesting engraving in celestial, although I cannot read the language. I recalled that Gabrielle could as an aasimar, although I didn’t want to make assumptions given how different Luna is—so I asked if anyone in our group could speak the language. As fortune would have it, Luna did speak celestial, and was willing to help, despite needing to kneel before the alter to see the engraving properly. She would not tell me what it said, instead, she went over to a glowing outline of a doorway we’d noticed in the other room, and spoke the words, “Let us inherit thine arms, Iomedae.” The doorway swung open. Inside was an amazing armory. Cold iron weapons of all kinds, an enchanted longsword, sturdy shields, and a gorgeous breastplate with Iomedae’s holy symbol emblazoned across it. I feel speed is what we needed more than heavy armor at the moment, or I would have gladly donned it.

I also may have hesitated because I think it looked like that sort of think Auriel would have liked. I feel like I remember him mentioning he intended to get something similar to this at some point. Or maybe that’s just me projecting. I don’t know.

Anyways.

After that was done we cleaned up the museum, in which we found an adamantine morningstar of all things. Would have been useful for that door earlier. We gave it to Luna. Adamantine with her strength will be useful I’m certain.

With everything cleaned up and Radiance a bit quieter, we decided to head up to the second floor.

The second floor was almost blood bath. I…kind of don’t remember a lot of the fight that happened here. It was a blur, and I went down a few times. A lot of times. They really had it out for me. For obvious reasons, I was the only Iomedaen in the room. And possibly because of the accursed mark on my arm, who knows? What I do know is, we got upstairs. Melody got besieged on all sides, and the moment one of the tiefling cultists died, we heard the voice of the oracle. And she summoned a swarm of locusts from the tiefling’s body, which attacked Melody on his death, badly injurying her with negative energy. I ended up running in and putting myself in between her and some of the other enemies with the intention of drawing some attention away from her. Which worked. Unfortunately it worked a little too well. I got swarmed by tieflings and Deskari cultists, and when Melody or Heskaria killed one the oracle would cause the locust swarms to pull the life from me. I went in and out of consciousness more than a few times here. I was lucky the Commander was here. She and Hiskaria kept me alive. Between Commander Tirabade’s lay on hand’s and Hiskaria’s wand of cure moderate wounds she’d picked up somewhere along the way. I definitely owed her one. I guess as her ‘acting captain’ I’m putting in a few good words for her for sure at this point.

When the swarm of enemies died down, we began looking around a bit more. We found a room with a bowl of water and—viscera—with zombies milling about. We took care of them with literally no issue. Radiance once again began insisting on immediately consecrating the room, and I once again told them that we needed to wait until we knew there was nothing nastier on this floor after what we’d just dealt with, if the oracle could reach out through her followers up here. Radiance didn’t like that answer, but conceded that it was my choice either way. Good. Maybe Luna was onto something with putting my foot down with them.

Melody was standing near a door looking a bit spooked, and as I approached she quietly told me something was on the other side talking in her mind. She described it, and I reasoned out that it was a Schir demon due to the sound of gnawing on metal she heard. We decided to let Luna go in first, as it was probably prepared but to my knowledge they couldn’t see those who were invisible. So she downed another potion and slipped inside, getting a good stab at him before he could react. Unfortunately, he proved a bit more damaging than expected, and we heard Luna calling for someone to help her out. I was planning to join her, since demon slaying is kind of my specialty. But then something else burst from the door behind me. A strange chimera creature. Not a demon, but an evil intelligent beast working with them. A peryton. The creature bared its fanged in something between a smile and a snarl as it greeted me, before lashing out, knocking me against the wall and dashing any hope of me going to Luna’s aid.

Fortunately, both Melody and Commander Tirabade were able to help Luna, while Hiskaria put some arrows into the creature attacking me. The Commander apparently killed the demon, then Luna charged out of the room and with a single swing of her axe beheaded the peryton.

The rest of the floor was so easily cleared out I legitimately don’t even remember what the creatures in the last room were. Some kind of insect or spider that caused darkness, but Luna was able to cast light due to her aasimar bloodline and dispel it. I blocked the doorway to protect Melody and let Hiskaria and Melody take shots at them until I was hurting too badly to continue that tactic, then stepped aside for Luna the clean up the rest.

After that was done, Luna began going through some papers that she had seen the cultists looking over before. I began clearing out the room the zombies had been in that Radiance had reacted to. And the others began checking the other rooms for anything that might be useful or important.

After I cleared and purified the water in the bowl it became immediately obvious that it was a scrying dish, as it activated on its own. It had two things to show me. First, was Leto and Commander Spriggans. They were in the middle of the demon hordes, separated from their unit. They were fighting valiantly, and they didn’t look worse for the wear at the moment. But with their positioning, I knew if I called the retreat now, they might get left behind. They might end up stuck behind enemy lines. Or worse, overwhelmed and killed.

Before I had time to process that, a second vision was granted. This one a bit closer to where we were. It was of the oracle, upstairs. She was panicking. Pacing, muttering to herself “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck”, terrified of how quickly we were tearing through her forces, of how quickly we were making our way to her and undoing all her work. The angle of the scry then panned out, showing me the room outside, allowing me to see the fiendish minotaur guarding the door to her chambers. It gave me a good idea of what we were going to be facing when we went up there. It was a tiny room to be dealing with such a large creature, not much room to maneuver. Not much room to get Luna into a flanking position.

But more importantly, we’d been planning to call the retreat after this floor. Because we were all exhausted. We were low on magic. We were low on healing. We were hurting. But if we did that, we were going to put Leto and Commander Spriggans in danger.

I had to make a call. Retreat. Put the mission and the people in front of me first and risk Leto. Or push forward, risk everything so I could try to bring everyone back safe. Assuming I didn’t get everyone killed doing so.

I was paralyzed with indecision.

The others were talking about various things they’d found. A list of traitors here and elsewhere, which was useful. Some other things I honestly was too distracted at the time to really process. Then Luna started talking about how we ought to head out if we were going to call the retreat and get back to Defender’s heart, since we were getting tired. Melody and Hiskaria agreed.

I stopped them. I told them to wait. I explained I’d seen something in the scrying room, and I explained what I’d seen and why it was a problem for retreating. But also why not retreating was a problem.

Luna said she didn’t give a damn, and said on the count of three everyone raise their hand who voted to keep going. All three of them did.

I—was speechless. I am not so proud as to think they did not understand how much of a risk they were taking pushing forward. They knew how much they were risking, and what they were doing, to keep Leto safe. A man they’ve barely even met once, but who they knew was important to me.

I owe them. More than I can begin to repay. But I am going to start, as best I can.

After I finished cleansing the second floor, we made our plan for how to deal with the third. We knew that the oracle was not at her best. We also knew how the minotaur’s room was laid out. We decided to use this to our advantage. There wasn’t much room to maneuver—not even enough for us to bring our ranger companions along, we had them watch our backs and stay on the second floor—but there was just enough to possibly get Luna in behind him if we played our cards right.

Luna drank another invisibility potion, and crept ahead of us. We waited for half a minute, then followed, with Melody in the lead. The plan was for her to lure the beast forward, as she was the only one with a weapon that could reach as far as the minotaur’s. She would stand in the stairwell and taunt the beast until it charged her, then Luna would step behind it and attack the moment its back was no longer to the door.

The plan worked. It worked exactly like we’d planned. Except for one problem. I didn’t see it for myself, I was still in the stairwell. But I heard about it afterwards. When the beast began to lumber forward, Luna stepped in to attack. She landed a devastating blow, drawing her axe up from the bottom of its spine to its neck. The creature stopped, and swung around, and its own axe swung into Luna. The fiendish creature put a smite into the blow, and its full strength behind it. With a single swing, Luna crumpled. I didn’t see the attack, but I saw the end result. There was blood everywhere.

Commander Tirabade charged in, and ended the beast’s life in a single final stroke, Luna having nearly ended it with her single blow. This left the room clear for Hiskaria to run in and use her wand to heal Luna back to her feet, and Melody to finish getting her back up. By the time I reached her, she looked good as new, if not a little shaken or perhaps just displeased that her blow hadn’t killed the beast outright. There was blood splattered across everything.

I really owe Luna after all this is over, with how close that was.

Then Luna suggested we do that again for the next room. We went to argue. I wondered if maybe she’d taken some head trauma on top of the axe wound. But she pointed out that technically the plan worked fine—she’d just gotten unlucky with the minotaur’s axe. She was pretty sure the same wouldn’t happen a second time with this panicky oracle. And this time we’d all be right outside the door.

I hated to admit it, but the plan had worked pretty well. And getting Luna in the room and flanking the oracle would be the best way to ensure she went down quickly. So we all agreed. Luna drank another potion and vanished, then we opened the door.

The oracle laughed manically when she saw us, her eyes wild and desperate. She was a twisted disgusting thing, her form warped into some sort of half-elf/locust combination by Deskari’s magic. I wouldn’t have even recognized her as a fellow half-elf myself if Luna hadn’t said something earlier when one of us was describing her. I am glad that the taint that this mark on my arm has left on me has done no such thing, I much prefer my face and arm as they are thank you.

The oracle—whose name I felt no particular urge to memorize, my apologies, I think it would have galled her to know she wasn’t that important—warned us to stay back. She asked where Luna was, to which Melody claimed that she’d been killed by the minotaur. One look at the bloodied room seemed to be enough to convince her of the truth of that, as she laughed in our faces at our folly. She motioned, and two portals appeared. What appeared to be two babau demons appeared, with Leto and Commander Spriggans held hostage. She warned that she would have them killed if we didn’t retreat and let her finish her work.

I…admit to not thinking straight here. I froze. Obviously, I knew we couldn’t just throw down our arms, not when so many lives were at stake with the wardstone right there. But I also wasn’t about to throw my brother and commander to the wolves.

Thankfully, Melody was much more clear-sighted than I. She ran forward, and attacked one of the supposed demons. The illusion around them flickered and vanished, revealing the truth underneath. Two constructs, which had created the illusory demons—and the illusions of Leto and Commander Spriggans, who were not there at all.

I was incensed at the trickery. I realized then that the desecrated scrying chamber had very likely been to look for someone one of us cared about to use against us, and she had chosen Leto. This kind of construct could only be used with an illusion preprogrammed into it—which meant they knew what to put in ahead of time, and someone elsewhere had put it in and sent it over. The constructs had the holy symbol of Sivanah emblazoned on them, so it seemed someone within their church was responsible. According to Luna, it was Lady Salzala. I’m inclined to believe her. Apparently, the mummified locust with the book she stole the day we met was addressed to her as well, so a lot of things keep pointing back in her direction. Commander Tirabade said she left with a contingent of her men on ‘business’ after the attack, so it would appear she fled the scene.

Unfortunately, her name was not amongst the ones in the documents Luna found naming traitors, so we lack any further evidence, although the Commander is going to look into it further.

With the bluff called, we attacked. Luna appeared as she swung her axe at the twisted locust oracle. Both Luna and the oracle looked surprised for a moment, I didn’t catch what either said, but then the oracle used a spell to teleport across the room.

While Melody and I focused on her and Luna dealt with the constructs that had flanked her, Hiskaria had a different idea in mind. She swung around, avoiding the fight entirely, and pulled out the rod of cancellation we’d been given to destroy the Wardstone. We were here to do a job, and she was going to make sure it got done, one way or another.

The oracle cried out, but it was too late. Hiskaria pushed past whatever last defenses the final piece of the wardstone may have had, and it shattered in a blinding flash. Shards rained down around us like meteors in miniature. They ripped the oracle and her constructs to shreds, but miraculously the rest of us were untouched—whenever they came near us, they redirected, whooshing around as if we had our own little gravity field and then being thrown in another direction.

Then everything went white. Me, Luna, Melody, and Hiskaria found ourselves in this place alone, Commander Tirabade was nowhere to be seen. Radiance floated before us, pulsing with energy, their blade face down. They spoke, and as they did we began to see visions of what they spoke of. Visions of things past. Of how the Wardstone came to be. Of Commander Tirabade and Stauton Vhagn…apparently former friends, before his betrayal. Of the Stormlord’s first attack on the Wardstone, and then Stauton’s betrayal and escape from the city. And then the most recent attack on the stone, the one that shattered it and brought us together. The attack that killed Trendalor—we know for certain now that the city’s defender is dead, his body stolen away by demons. And then we saw various demons guarding the stone, each powerful entity growing bored with their post and handing it off to one below them, until finally it fell to the oracle, who paced the room fearfully, knowing what would happen to her should she fail at our hands.

Then we saw what was supposed to happen next. The fate that we avoided. The time that was meant to come to pass, but didn’t. Arelu Vorlesh stepped from a portal with a purple crystal in hand, and began corrupting the Wardstone. And she succeeded. Dark tendrils spread through the land, they infected the crusaders through their connection to the divine within the Wardstone, and it twisted and warped them all into half-fiend monstrosities under Deskari’s power. Deskari’s army grew into a force all that more unstoppable, bolstered by our own men whose lives and souls were ripped away all at once.

Then the vision shattered, and we saw what had happened when we shattered the Wardstone instead. A great wave of golden energy swept across the land, destroying countless demons in its wake. Not obliterating their forces, unfortunately—more will come crawling from the Worldwound in the days to come, but it’s still a mighty blow that should buy us some time to regroup after what they did to Kenabres. A nice bit of divine retribution for those who have died.

Radiance spoke to us again. Or, the Spirit of the Hall of Heroes. I couldn’t quite tell if this was the exact same being as the one who spoke to me through the blade. I do recall Radiance referring to themself as the Spirit of the Hall of Heroes before, so likely the same? Radiance is less of a mouthful and easier to write, though. Maybe just ‘The Spirit’ for now, to avoid confusion, because I still had a version of Radiance to use in what was to come as well.

The Spirit drew a glowing blade of light from what had appeared to be Radiance’s blade, and pointed it at us. They told us to show them that we were worthy of the power to defy fate itself. Then they took the form of a man wielding a polearm and the form of a crystalline phoenix formed before them. And flames erupted around us.

Hiskaria did what she does best and peppered him with arrows. I patched myself up with some quick healing and tried to come in for an attack, but their form shifted again, this time into a tiefling man with a large hexagonal shield and he blocked my blow. However since I was harrying them, Luna was about to come around behind him and get a blow of her own off with her axe. Their form shifted to a human woman with a similar axe in an attempt to block, but Luna’s attack managed to get through. Then the spirit’s form shattered. They reformed their crystalline body farther in the white void—now an elven woman with a bow, and began shooting off rapid deadly arrow shots at us that made Hiskaria’s already deadly aim look like a child’s shooting.

We went with the same tactic as before, with Hiskaria shooting from afar, Melody charging in with her glaive, myself healing and sweeping in to flank with Luna, and finally Luna dealing a crippling blow to the crystalline Spirit. The being’s form shattered, underneath was a second form, somewhat like an elven man in appearance, although still made of crystal, holding a staff with twisting gears, the only part of them not crystalline. They tapped the staff, and everything was tugged backwards, returned to how it had been when the fight had first begun. The Spirit sheathed their blade. They asked each of us in turn what we were fighting for, and in turn each of us gave our personal answer.

For me…the answer’s always been the same. I want to protect people. To defend those who are less powerful from the demons, be it with a shield or at the end of a blade.

The Spirit acknowledged us as worthy of the power that had fallen into our laps—and as such they were going to return us to that moment in time, and, as he put it, ‘allow you the power you were nearly denied’.

I found myself back in the moment when the Wardstone was exploding. Shards were flying everywhere. This time, however, a piece hit me, square in the chest. Unlike the oracle and her constructs, it didn’t tear me apart. Instead, an energy flowed through every part of my being, all at once. Through my body, my blood, and my very soul. The other three experienced the same.

We didn’t have time to talk about it, or to wonder at it. As the explosion died down, a portal opened before us. One we’d already seen once before, in a vision, mere moments ago. What felt like mere moments ago, in that white void. Out stepped Arelu Vorlesh, one of Deskari’s generals, in the flesh. She was holding that same purple crystal that she’d had in the vision. She commented on the fact that we’d destroyed the Wardstone that she’d intended to use—but that its power lived on within us, and she would just have to corrupt us instead. Then she activated the crystal. There was a terrible sensation, like something cold and oily trying to take hold of my soul. Commander Tirabade charged Vorlesh, but she cast a spell that began to suffocate her, and she went unconscious in moments. Apparently it was meant to hit all of us, but the Wardstone’s power had protected us. Unfortunately its power was not protecting us from the purple crystal’s power, and we were frozen to the spot. I…was certain we were done for.

Then a blue hand reached out through Vorlesh’s portal. A light from Radiance’s crystal streaked out through her and into that being’s hand. Something was cast, and Arelu Vorlesh was left badly injured, and we were freed. Vorlesh fled. We didn’t ever get a good look at the other being.

Radiance has been silent since.

I can’t say for certain. But I think Auriel saved us. Some piece of his soul. Some version of him. I don’t know. It’s the only explanation I have. That light was in Radiance because of Auriel’s soul, so if it went to that being, it had to have been. Somehow. I know that’s weirdly optimistic of me. I’m not the sort to cling to thinking people spontaneously come back from the dead, especially people whose souls shatter on death. But—I mean Auriel was literally the Chosen One. If anyone was going to come back, right?

Anyways, Radiance doesn’t talk to me anymore. Or can’t, more likely, just like the whole ‘can’t choose Irabeth over you’ thing. But they haven’t flayed my hands, either. I think the whole ‘breaking fate’ thing means I’m able to bend the rules on the whole chosen one thing. Or maybe having a little divine power from the wardstone’s what did it. Who knows. I’m glad. If I’m honest, I’ve gotten a little attached. As much as they’ve gotten on my nerves and the whole ‘flay you alive’ thing pissed me off, I’m actually kind of sad that I can’t hear them now. For one thing, it was the last little connection to Auriel we had. I have no idea if they can hear me or if they’re in some kind of hibernation now. I’ve still been talking to them a bit. Like a crazy person, yeah, yeah.

Anyways, it wasn’t over with Vorlesh leaving. She decided to leave a parting gift. A whole swarm of babau demons. Real ones, not a bunch of illusions over constructs. Babaus are quite a bit stronger than the dretches and vermleks we’d been fighting. Under any other circumstances, we’d have definitely been overwhelmed and killed by a swarm of eight of them.

Instead, they couldn’t even touch us. I mean it, there wasn’t a scratch on us when we left. We completely overpowered these demons that should have easily outclassed us. The wardstone’s powers completely suffused our every action, everything we did seemed to be at the most perfect it could be. I cannot begin to describe to you how it feels to completely annihilate demons that should be such fearsome foes without risking going into territory that may start sounding like It’s bordering blasphemy, so I think I’ll reel it back a bit.

Afterwards, we healed the Commander, and began making our way back to Defender’s Heart. On the way, Hiskaria told us that apparently the very supportive voice in her head was apparently her goddess, Cassandalee. I’d never heard of her before, but Melody had. She was apparently more of a Numerian goddess, one of love, redemption, artifice, and good. Strange that she hadn’t gotten bigger in the 300 years she’s been around if redemption’s in her portfolio since there’s been a big need for that all things considered, since Valoria didn’t pick that up from Sarenrae. But I suppose since her main followers are apparently androids maybe she wasn’t really able to spread much outside her home base, so to speak.

Then the others decided to start hounding me as we walked back. I thought it would be about my arm, considering that seemed like the most pressing thing to ask about. But no. Apparently Luna and Melody had gotten it into their heads that Leto and I are an item. Really! I tried vehemently to correct them, that they really had the wrong idea, that we grew up together and I think of him more like a brother, but for whatever reason they still seem really unconvinced. Maybe if I send them Leto’s way he can talk some sense into them. No. He’ll probably just get them more wound up and release them back on me for the laughs. I tried to get Hiskaria to try to talk some sense into them, but she said since Cassandalee is a goddess of love she felt like it was now her sworn duty to not get in the way of this kind of talk. So now I have a Shelynite and Hiskaria to deal with about this kind of thing. Great!

Anyways. With the demons destroyed by the shockwave, there was no reason to worry about Leto and Commander Spriggans’ safety anymore. I’ll tell Leto about these shenanigans some other day. Tonight, I’m too exhausted to even think about going down there and drinking. Sleep. Sleep sounds good.

[pinkchanelbag-moved]

pride

mob!bucky barnes x reader

you were the ultimate prize, the one no one could get. except bucky. but now that he finally has you, it feels like you’re sleeping next to a stranger each night. 

words: ~3.9k 

warnings: very very quick mention of smut, just sad vibes in general

a/n: i really like dis one ngl lol but i still need to edit :* . been jamming to this song for day but i had to slow it and stuff for copyright, but its still a viiibeee so enjoyyy 

---

the whole way home, he’s calling you, and the entire time, you’re not picking up. after the fourth or fifth time, when he begins to get fed up, the calls start going straight to voicemail. you’ve shut your phone off.

he sighs and rolls his head back on the velvet covered car seat, rubbing at his neck. he’s tired. his father’s banquet was boring, per usual, and not even on par with the standards of ones he’s seen before. and he fought with you just minutes before the two of you were supposed to leave, forcing him to show up alone. that caught some attention, and if there is anything bucky doesn’t like, it’s attention...

he sat with his friends and his cousins and his friend’s cousins, checking out the new meat arriving into the extravagant garden party in his great aunt’s backyard. there were upwards of fifteen cars parked starting from the driveway until down the street as people poured in, one after the other, some familiar, some old, some young, some with long debt sheets and others large body counts, and bucky and his pals cracked up at scrutinizing the guests. a plump waitress came by and refilled his cup of wine, and he turned to thank her. his best friend and the son of his father’s business partner nudged him on the arm.

“that’s the broad i was talkin’ about from before,” steve said, nodding his head at the backdoor of the house where a new group of girls trickled in. girls in pastel heels and sundresses with sensible handbags. but bucky’s eyes only fell on one girl.

“damn,” he said, leaning back in his chair and noticing that his breath pulled at his lungs a tad harder. “yeah, she really is--”

“you’re lookin’ at the wrong girl, moron,” sam said from bucky’s left. steve pointed not-so-discreetly to the girl right next to the girl bucky had been looking at.

“the brunette,” steve said. “name’s margaret. i know she’s been looking at me, i can tell.”

“who’s that next to her?” bucky asked, his eyes still tracing every part of you. eyes, mouth, hands, hair, legs. his gaze touched each part of you, mesmerized.

“oh...that’s y/n.” steve turned to look at his friend and smiled, sharing a look with sam and shaking his head, the two men laughing. bucky turned to look between them both.

“what?” he asked.

“man, are you that oblivious or just that dumb?” sam shoved his shoulder. “remember that girl reid’s been tryna get with for, what is it--” he looked at steve to confirm, “four months? that’s her. girl’s closed up like an oyster.”

“she’s stuck up?” bucky asked.

“nah, nothing like that,” steve said. “just not interested.”

“maybe she just doesn’t like mafia boys?” sam suggested in her defence.

bucky looked at you as you greeted the hosts, your mouth dancing into a dazzling smile.

“i want her,” he said. steve chuckled.

“figured,” he said.

before he left for the banquet, the two of you were laid up in his king size together as you traced his scratchy jawline.

“i wanna stay here forever,” you said. bucky didn’t reply, just closed his eyes and ran a hand up and down your back slowly. you laid half on top of him, chest to chest, looking up at him with wonder in your eyes. it was something he’d never voice out loud, but every time you stared at him with that kind of love in your eyes, a smug part of him remembered when you’d roll those eyes and walk away as he tried to ask you to a date or the way you’d deadpan when he expressed how much he liked you. it was a long chase. one he’d never put himself through before, and now, he had you. “hey buck...” you began. he opened his eyes and glanced them down at you in acknowledgment.

“do you ever get tired of having to come all the way across town to pick me up?”

“not really,” bucky adjusted his position to put his arm behind his head. “it’s not like i have to drive myself.”

“but, well...i mean, it gets a little irritating to have to pack just a couple of things to come stay at your place for a few days. like, i don’t have all my makeup and clothes and things.”

bucky checked the time on his watch to see how soon the banquet was.

“you still always look good,” he offered.

“you’re missing the point by miles, buck,” you breathed a laugh that he felt from your chest to his. “do you ever think about...about if i lived here? permanently?”  bucky’s eyes trailed up to the ceiling.

“what’s wrong with your apartment?” he asked.

“nothing, buck,” you tilted your head to look up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “just that we’ve been together for seven months. i thought it would be a good step forward. but if you don’t want to, then it’s fine.” you used the hand you hand on his chest to gently push yourself off of him. the hand he had on your waist fell to the bed as you walked off toward your mini suitcase, shuffling through a makeup bag. bucky knew you well enough to know you were just staying distracted, indifferent rather than actually looking for makeup.

“well, i mean, sure, we can step forward and all that, but i don’t see how moving in does that. you’re here most of the time anyway.”

“if i’m here most of the time, it makes sense for me to live here. and i don’t like spending most of my time in a place that doesn’t really feel like my own,” you were mumbling now, looking through the pack of clothes you had brought.

“but it’s not like i feel like your apartment is mine. i’m not taking anything from you, and isn’t it good for us both to have places that can be just for us? why share a place?”

“because that’s what couples do, bucky. just forget i said anything.”

bucky sat up in the bed.

“what, you’re mad now?” he asked, hands resting on the headboard.

“i’m not mad,” you said, not even looking up at him.

“obviously, you are. you’re not looking at me.”

“i’m not mad, buck, because i’m not surprised. i don’t know when it became a part of my routine to have you act like i’m your on-call girlfriend that you don’t actually want to be serious about, but i’m used to it, so how can i be mad?”

“that’s a-level bullshit and you know it,” he replied, the anger already rising in his voice. “you think because i like having my own space that i don’t take you seriously?”

“no, that’s not it. if it was just that, you know i’d never ask you for anything. but bucky...we have not had a change in months. i feel like we’re in the same place we were in a month in dating.”

“isn’t that supposed to be a good thing? the beginning is always the best part before the passion dies and stuff.”

finally, you turned to look at him, something confused and yes, a little hurt, in your eyes.

“i don’t think that. relationships are’t supposed to stay the same, buck, they’re not static. and they’re definitely not supposed to get worse. do you think we’ve lost...what, passion?” you asked.

“no, i don’t,” bucky shrugged, being truthful, but still trying to be nonchalant. “but i don’t think moving in is gonna help us feel a spark or some shit. it’s gonna be, like, a new responsibility that might cause issues.”

“so you’re saying you don’t want to move forward because you don’t wanna deal with the responsibilities?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

“yes,” bucky gestured a hand out. “it complicates things. i’m not trying to be all domestic right now, not at all, actually. we should keep it simple.” he rested his back on the headboard again, thinking you had finally gotten it. instead the last of expression drained from your face and your eyes looked at the carpet. bucky checked his watch again before pushing himself off the bed and stepping in the direction of the walk in closet to find something appropriate to wear.

“you got clothes for tonight, or do you want jordan to drive you home to get ready?” he asked, stretching his back.

“i’m not going,” you murmured, eyes staring dully at your suitcase.

now, as he pulls up to the apartment complex, fixing his cufflinks and running a hand through his hair, he prepares to finish the fight that he suspects he shouldn’t have left prematurely. but there’s no time to ponder over it anymore. he wonders what he has in store, and he wishes desperately you hadn’t brought up moving in. things with you are always good. bucky does love you, and he’s sure you know. it’s just that you’re so restless, always wanting more, and he can’t understand what you think is so wrong about how things are now.

“thanks, jordan,” he tells the driver before leaving the car.

“have a good night mr. barnes,” he replies. bucky makes his way into the lobby and then into the elevator with his hands in pockets. he uses his key card and passcode, then punches in the floor number to his penthouse. the elevator whirs for a a minute until it arrives to his home, opening up to his living room, and there you are. sitting on an arm chair, hands clasped together, lips touching knuckles, your elbows propped on your knees as you stare at the floor, your suitcase beside you.

“y/n...?”

your breathy moans made something devious swell in his chest as he pushed himself further into you. “bucky,” you breathed, gripping the bedsheets. his long, slow, and impossibly deep strokes pushed you nearly to tears, and he knew this. moments like these, or similarly as he sat back on the headboard and watched you bob up and down slowly, head thrown back to watch the ceiling and small hands holding onto his shoulders, his own hand coming to wrap around your prettily exposed throat, that he felt, i have her. the ego boost of a lifetime, if he was being honest. that he had you like this when no one else could, that he was the one that got to watch your breaths streaming in and out as you slept next to him with your hair in your face and your cool and reserved exterior melted away, or that he was the one that watched your figure clad in nothing but a thin sheet as you picked up the room service and sat out on the balcony, legs draped into a comfortable cross as you fed yourself fruit. he stood behind you with an arm wrapped around your waist at the gatherings and dinners, he was with you when no one else believed he could get you. not even you.

“they missed you at the banquet,” bucky begins. you don’t move a muscle. usually, you’re the more vocal one. “i missed you.” 

“stop,” you finally say in a quiet voice. bucky pulls his hands out of his pockets, but now not knowing what to do with them, runs them through his hair.

“stop what?” he asks.

“stop trying to be nice.” he furrows his eyebrows.

“you don’t want me to be nice to you?”

“i don’t want you to be be nice to me when you feel like have to because i’m upset about something. i shouldn’t have to be mad or sad for you to act nice,” you say. your voice is somehow both determined and dejected, something bucky’s not used to.

“come on, doll. you’re making it out like i abuse you or something,” he says. “that’s just how i am. everyone knows that. i mean, if i don’t act nice, it’s not because i’m trying not to be. especially with you. you oughta know that.” he takes a few small steps towards you.

“i don’t.” for the first time, you look up at him. your eyes are bloodshot and your face has taken on a reddish hue, surely from crying. bucky is taken aback. recalling what happened before he left, he didn’t think it would get you this worked up.

“you aren’t going?” he asked at the time. “why?” he folded his arms and stared at you through the wall mirror, but you continued to look at your suitcase.

“i’m not up for it.”

“y/n, i promise we’ll talk more about this when we get back, whenever you want, but let’s just put it away for now and go to this thing.”

“and the next time we talk about this...” you asked him, “will you have anything new to say?” your heart pounded in anticipation of his answer, and you knew his obliviousness would lead him to the wrong one.

you snuck a look at him through the mirror as he shrugged and looked to the side, his face blank, per usual.

“well, you know how i feel.”

you nodded slowly, letting out the breath you’d been holding. that does it, then.

“just go without me, bucky.”

and he did.

“what?” bucky laughed. “four kids? why four?”

you giggled and sipped at your smoothie for a long moment before coming up with an answer.

“i just like kids,” you smiled brightly, and it made bucky smile too, because he so often saw you happy in a way that wasn’t controlled, like you were with your families’ associates and the like. it was nice to see you happy with your guard really down. he realized you were vulnerable around him enough for that. the thought made his smile spread. “and i wanna be the kind of mother that...always has stuff going on at the house, you know? i figure that’s easier with more kids. it’ll be stress, but nothing i can’t handle,” you shrugged.

bucky nodded.

“i get that. my dad was like a superhero to me, but i still just never saw him or got to know him as much as i wanted, considering i adored him,” he looked down at his finished burger plate as he said this, ears turning a little pink. he glanced behind him dumbly, since the shop was already empty. it was closing time, but bucky knew the busboy, and the two of you were permitted to stay late.

you bent your head close to the table to try and meet bucky’s eyes. there was an adorable pout on your lips.

“so you wanna be a good dad? take ‘em to sports games, that kinda thing?” you asked in a baby voice, but bucky didn’t feel a hint of mockery in your voice, so he laughed and shrugged.

“yeah, i guess. it’s a nice idea, at least. i don’t know if i could ever really get there.”

you watched him for a moment as he finished off his milkshake before reaching over and placing your hand on top of his.

“i think you can get there,” you said. bucky looked at your hands, then up into your eyes, smiling and biting his lip. it was a nice thought. he wasn’t sure he was the right guy for it, but it was a nice thought in general.

“y/n, do you actually think that i only think of you as...what, a booty call? is that what you think?” bucky asks, and of course there’s that hint of incredulousness in his voice. “we’ve been together for months. we take trips. we meet people together. we...we’re us. what’s wrong with us that you hate so much?”

“that it’s not us, bucky! how can you say that? we can’t be some united front if we’re not even a team at home. i feel like i don’t know you.” you’re standing now, one hand on the handle of your suitcase. “i feel like i don’t know the truth, between the things, the lies that you told me to get me to want you and the person i see now. that’s just the issue. we’ve been together eight months and i feel like i’m sleeping next to a stranger.”

“what’s the issue, doll?” bucky asked, licking his lips in the pleasure of the banter.

“i’m not pursuing anyone at the moment,” you said as politely as possible with a testy eyebrow raised.

“well, that just makes my job easier, don’t it?” he grinned at you. you chuckled and turned back around to serve yourself some of the delicacies. bucky shot a glance to steve and sam, who were snickered a laughed. sam shot him a sarcastic thumbs up. bucky sucked his teeth and turned back around, gently grabbing your elbow.

“okay, okay, for real. can we just--” bucky pointed at the gap in the backyard fence that led to an alleyway between the big houses. you looked between him and the alley, pursed your lips, and put your plate down to follow him.

he tried a new approach. rather than flat-out asking you on a date, he did a thing girls went crazy over: just asked you a little about yourself, feigned interest (it’s not that he was faking exactly; he listened intently, but he really just wanted a date), and he told you a little about himself, his family. being this close to you for so long with no others around, he could admire how pretty you were. he didn’t care about reid or what other goon had tried for you. he knew he could do it.

when you reached the end of the alley, and you expected to go back, bucky leaned against a chainlink fence and continued the conversation, so you leaned on it next to him, not minding the company. the sun was setting behind a tall house so that the blinding orange rays didn’t light up the spot where the two of you stood, but the soft flare of tangerine enveloped you still. bucky watched your lips as you talked about your father’s work. you looked heavenly. he asked again to take you out before he had really comprehended his sentence. he caught himself and tried to play it off, because hardly anyone could make him slip up and talk before thinking.

“it’s just a burger. what, you don’t like burgers?” he smiled, all teeth, and was sure he was melting some of your tough exterior.

“you had to beg me,” you whisper, but somehow, it’s haunting enough to sound like a shout. “you had to have me, even when i didn’t want you. and when you finally managed to get me to come around...when you made me fall for you, you let yourself lose me.”

“no,” he began, shaking his head, trying to resolve it, resolve this.

“yes,” you continued as he attempted an interjection. “yes, buck, because that’s what’s happening. you’re losing me, bucky, do you understand that?”

“why is your bag packed?” he asks with exhaustion and something else, something cold and detached, etched into his face.

“i’m staying with my brother on the east side.”

“the east side?” bucky repeats incredulously. “no.”

“what are you gonna do, buck? are you gonna call up gino and frankie and make them hold me in the apartment? are you gonna stop me?” your eyes are wide and so, so angry that it manages to put a dent in bucky’s withdrawn attitude. the way they bore into him makes him unable to look directly at you for a moment. “just tell me now, if you plan on forcing me to stay, so i can see what kind of man you are. so i can really see the end of it. is there more, buck?”

“i won’t make you stay if you don’t want to, but...” he begins.

“then move,” you say with such enunciation in each word that it sends shivers down bucky’s spine. “let me by.”

“it’s not gonna happen, james barnes,” you told him. you turned to walk back down the alley and back to the party. the sun had set and the sky was a gentle pink and blue that somehow accented your shrinking figure.

“it’s bucky!” he yelled back at you. he heard your chuckle despite the distance, and he knew he had to have you.

“yn, come on. i...” he pauses to consider that the next words to come off his tongue feel a little foreign, “i’m sorry.”

you turn back to look at him again. “you’re always sorry. even when you don’t know you are because your goddamn ego is in the way. i know you, bucky. you’re always sorry. you just only feel it enough when you’ve pushed me to my breaking point, and i can’t sit around and wait for you to wither me away into nothing before you can learn to treat me how i deserve. because you know i deserve better, but you wanted me to be with you anyway. you had to have me.”

you turned back at the opening in the fence to analyze him one more time.

“when am i gonna see you again?” he called out. from the distance, he saw you tip your head up to the dark pastel sky to contemplate.

“mmm...” you looked back at him, a soft expression on your face, “your dreams, maybe?”

“i’m not gonna let you mess my head up anymore. i need to look after myself,” you say in a quiet voice. “i’m tired of your pride coming between me and you. it’s too hard.” you side-stepp bucky, and he lets you. each word hits him in the lungs until he doesn’t have quite enough breath to reply. to rebuttal. to tell you you’re wrong, things aren’t this way. but he can’t do that because he’d be lying. he can’t even dare to think about objecting to what you’re saying, or he worries he might him an all-time low.

you step to elevator, your suitcase in hand, and call for the elevator.

“do you have a ride?” bucky asks, looking at the marble floor. he then decides against it, decides to watch you since he doesn’t know when he’ll see you again. and the next time he sees you, you’ll no longer be his.

“uber,” you say, staring at the wall of the head like you’re trying to burn a hole in it. you turn the same gaze to him, and sticks his nails into his palm. “i wanted this to work because i love you. but i can’t change you, bucky, as much as i want to.”

bucky brought a fist to his chest.

“you’re killing me, doll,” he called to you. he heard your enchanted giggle.

“goodbye...bucky,” you said. his name sounds like a church choir on your lips. he wanted to hear it a million more times.

the elevator arrives, and you turn away again. take a deep breath, because you can’t believe you’re doing this, but also not believing it took you so long. “goodbye, bucky,” you say with resignation. you stepp in, and only half turn around, briefly making eye contact with the man you love.

you looked at him one more time before stepping through the gap in the fence.

the elevator comes to a silent close, breaking the link of eye contact between you and bucky, whose eyes are glossed over.

and just like that,

you were gone.

[csykora]

After ‘84, Igor felt the pieces were beginning to fall off the Red Machine. 

He hated being called a robot as much as he hated being called a soldier. He didn’t know what the world wanted the Green Unit to do on the ice or off it, how they had to behave, before someone would believe they had feelings. On the worst days they were too tired and numb to feel anything else.  

When he’d met Bobby Clarke, who he thought looked like a hockey angel with a blond halo and no teeth, Bobby commented about the Soviet presence in Afghanistan. Igor didn’t know how to say that he’d definitely never been allowed to go to Afghanistan, and under the uniform he didn’t deserve to be a soldier, for good or bad. The national team was a tool of the Soviet government: at the same time it was a comfort for ordinary people in cold little apartments in mining towns where the players grew up and also a prop in the illusions that kept everything how it was. 

The illusion went skin deep: every time they left Russia, Igor was issued a snappy winter coat and brand-name Western clothes, so no one would think the Soviets looked poor.

[A black and white photo of the Green Unit posing, smiling except for Igor, in matching windbreakers with saddle shoulders and bold stripes. This was a hot look, about 10 years before the Soviet Union Costuming Department thought it was a hot look]

Underneath the coat or the beautiful red sweater, everything was a mess. At one point, at a tournament in Canada, a Canadian player would hit Igor from behind. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except the Soviet management hadn’t provided enough hockey pads. Igor was wearing a partial set he’d borrowed from a high school team that played in the host arena earlier that day. (Across Europe and Canada I bet there are grown men, still hockey fans now, who have no idea they once owned game-worn gear from the world’s top scorers. To Igor’s fans those pieces might be worth as much as he ever earned in his CSKA career.) He would play the rest of that tournament with broken ribs.

The only outsider he’d met who seemed to understand, however briefly, was their friend Vanya. Asked what it was like playing against those Russian robots, Wayne said, 

“Robots don’t hurt when they lose.”

By June 1985, Slava was recovering from that knee injury that had sidelined him for half the last season. He and his little brother Tolya, now a CSKA rookie, drove back for the start of training. Their car was hit, and Tolya was killed. Slava thought about leaving that season, but their parents told him to keep going, and just try to live for two people.

In November, the players at Arkhangel heard a rumor: someone had written an article, in a Soviet paper, that criticized the hockey program. Anything that wasn’t awe was criticism. Someone got their hands on a copy, and Igor, Vova, Sergei, and Slava huddled around their usual table that evening, hiding each other as they read it in turns. Igor reread it twice. He’d read Canadian and American papers that dragged the Soviet system, but never something like this, that got it--almost--right. It didn’t have all the details to understand the illusion--how they trained, how Tikhonov acted behind Arkhangel’s walls--but it guessed some.

Glasnost was beginning, a long rustling cracking thaw opening new streams of information and communication like Igor had dreamed. The Canucks drafted him that year, and then Vova. The Devils had dibsed Slava and Lyosha a few years before, and the Flames wanted Sergei. There was a place for them, waiting, if they could ever get to the NHL. But there wouldn’t be any thaw in Arkhangel as long as Tikhonov ruled it.

The ’85 World Championships were held in Prague, and ’86 in Moscow. Igor played both, and nothing else. For two years, no one saw him outside the Soviet Union. 

In December of ‘85, CSKA was supposed to tour North America. Igor was dressed and ready. Then he heard his passport, which he had used a hundred times before, had run into problems. Coach told him not to worry, but to stay behind in Russia and--how convenient--keep training for the championships in Moscow. Igor woke up at three in the morning to watch the games he was supposed to be playing. He learned that Canadian journalists were asking about him: apparently, he had tonsillitis. Igor wasn’t entirely sure where his tonsils were. 

Two months later CSKA played in Sweden. Strange, how his tonsils still weren’t better, and his passport was still missing. Two nights before they were set to leave Tikhonov called him into the office, in front of the team, and told him so. But the next evening Tretiak, now a more senior officer, came out to visit the barracks. He hugged Igor and promised him he would do what he could to get the passport by the time they were supposed to leave the next morning. Igor went to bed hoping. At 4:30 AM the coaches woke him just to tell him the passport wasn’t there yet, so the team really would be leaving without him. 

The third time it happened, he was told to go back to the passport office to file everything all over again--maybe he had fucked up his passport. He didn’t bother. Taking away travel had been one thing. But doing it in front of the team, in front of the Green Unit, so that he knew that they knew that he had let them down somehow, broke his heart. 

He was still allowed to play inside the Soviet Union. As long as he was with CSKA, the other Greens treated him the same as always. If they had known how bad things were going to get, Igor thought they would have done more sooner, but he knew that they didn’t understand what was happening. In between games, he spent his days in office buildings, being grilled about suspicious activities like listening to rock music, calling his mom too often, or kissing Canadians. 

“I was at fault all around. That I gladly gave interviews to journalists. That I liked the NHL...that I like rock music. That the living standard there impressed me. All this was raked up into a pile. I was the enemy. Because, you see, if I liked the American way of life, then in general I was an American by heart. All of this they said about me.

By nature, I am clearly a Russian. I do not like everything in America. It cannot be that somewhere is as in a fairytale, and somewhere else is total darkness.

Particularly, it seemed, my [friendliness] offended the preservers of government secrets….I also knew a little English. Therefore I had the possibility to rub elbows with whomever I might come in contact: hockey players, journalists and even immigrants. And, they assumed, to each of them I could give important information--everyone getting an equal share, no doubt, in order to be fair.”

He couldn’t talk to his friends from other countries, or his Russian friends either when they traveled without him. On the street outside between the rink and the party offices, none of his former fans would speak to him, except to ask or tell him their opinion if he really was a traitor.

He was wanted everywhere but home. Obviously, no other country believed that a 25 year-old athlete who had been the best in the world six months before had been brought down by tonsillitis multiple times in a row. There’s only so many tonsils a person can have. Obviously, every other country thought Igor must want to defect, the one thing he did not want and couldn’t convince anyone of. So each host on the international hockey circuit was bouncing on their toes, first Canada, then Sweden and so on, thinking maybe the Soviet Union would slip up and let him come to their tournament, he'd defect, and then they’d get to keep him. Obviously, the Soviets noticed that, and squeezed tighter.

Each time the team left on tour, he was told to spend his time alone training harder and hope. If he was good enough, maybe he’d make the next tournament. His body, always a battle-ground with Coach Tikhonov, became a hostage situation. The more Tikhonov told him to train, the less he ate. Eventually he was eating mostly fruit, and restricting his water intake. 

He stopped pretending to defer to anyone.  He used to be the sober one between his hot-head wingers, and now he egged every fight on. Sometimes he faked an American accent, calling Coach “Tikhonoff” the way American broadcasters had at the '81 Olympics.

One day at the rink he bumped into figure skater Lena Batanova, who “knew nothing about hockey and could not have cared less.” She had been through worse training than he had growing up, only to win two World Championships, and then be slighted from a third. They understood each other without having to say anything.

[Igor washing dishes in their Moscow apartment, turning to glance at Lena pressing up him.]

That summer he stayed up late talking with his friends, and realized he wanted to marry Lena. He asked her the next morning, and she said yes. Behind Igor’s back, Slava, Vova, Sergei, and Lyosha went to Coach Tikhonov’s office, and told him that they would play every other day of the year if they had to, but they would be going to Igor’s wedding. Coach wouldn’t allow the three days for a traditional Russian wedding, but he had to give Igor one.

Waking up the morning after the wedding, Igor checked the mail and found a summons to appear before the Central Committee of the Communist Party. His friends, who I imagine lying hungover on his and Lena’s new couch and floor, rushed for their unused books to help him study up on Communist doctrine, in case he got quizzed. This is presumably when Lena woke up, realized she’d married a whole line of hockey players for their one communal brain cell, and rolled back over. Igor reported the next morning, probably with flashcards Vova had made for him in his pocket.

The Party officials congratulated him on getting married and gave him the wedding gift they were sure no one else would have gotten: his passport. We have to guess the logic here, if there was one. It’s possible the Party thought he wouldn’t risk his wife, or that two years had just been enough to realize the team wasn’t working without him. 

But he was allowed to go to Canada for the Calgary Cup before the end of ‘86, and everyone had questions about his two years of tonsillitis. Igor, for the first time in his life, didn’t talk. But that just left the hockey world to gossip. Two months later it was announced he’d be in Quebec City for another tournament, and right before they arrived a Quebec newspaper printed a version of the night out with Gretzky--with quotes, they claimed, from Wayne. This time the tournament organizers called someone from every team up for a pregame presser. I imagine Igor shrugging at his KGB handlers and sliding away to the stage: nothing could stop him talking now.

Except the Canadian journalists. They wanted to interview Team Canada first. Igor stewed, and then looked up to see an oncoming Wayne. Someone had asked him about the alleged quotes in the article, which Igor had snagged a copy of to read the second they let him loose in Canada. Apparently Wayne hadn’t. 

“‘Believe me, Igor,’” Igor remembers Wayne blurting out. “‘I didn’t say what was printed in the paper. I’ll tell them it didn’t happen! But what is your position now?’”

“‘Do not worry,” Igor promised him. “‘Now, everything is okay.’”

“Oh, awesome,” (I’m assuming again) Wayne said. “So do you want to come over later and hang out in my mom’s basement?!”

“If the KGB pulls a gun, then call me.” --Wayne Gretzky

Weirdly, I’ve never seen this inspirational quote cross-stitched on someone’s wall. 

The next Canada Cup was held in August ‘87 in Hamilton, Ontario, which is like, basically next door to Wayne’s parents’ house. So the afternoon before the first game, Wayne sent his dad Walter to the hotel where the Soviet team was staying. Walter asked in Ukrainian if he could chat with Igor, who had to come down to the hotel lobby to meet him, since visitors were absolutely not allowed to wander up to players’ rooms. Walter invited his son’s friend over for dinner. Igor cut eyes at the KGB agent in the corner, and said he had to go upstairs and ask Coach. Tikhonov said no before Igor started talking.

Igor came back downstairs and apologized to Walter, who thought hard for a minute. He told Igor to ask what if the whole Green Unit went to Wayne’s house for team bonding? Coach Tikhonov considered, and said no, and Igor went back to Walter. 

Walter hitched up his suspenders, and announced to the KGB that he would talk go to Coach Tikhonov now.

He told Tikhonov he would be honored if Coach came to dinner at his house that evening, and if Coach felt like it, he might bring the boys over too. Tikhonov said he’d love to. 

Tikhonov, Igor, Vova, Sergei, Slava, Lyosha, and a KGB operative spent a delightful half hour packed in a car together driving to the Gretzkys' house, where Walter and Phyllis were throwing a cookout. Walter and some of his local buddies had barbecue and corn on the cob on the grill, and Phyllis had quizzed her son about his Moscow trip before throwing up her hands in despair and making a big batch of her mother’s Polish dumplings and sausage.

Nothing makes me happier than the image of Wayne Gretzky, beaming from ear to ear, handing famously fussy little Igor Larionov a piece of barbecued corn on the cob. Igor had to explain that yes, they had corn in Russia, but they ate it on a plate and not like squirrels. Walter offered him a beer, and Igor looked to Coach Tikhonov before saying no. Tikhonov allowed the players to have a soda.

Wayne started asking him how everything had been since the last time they hung out, and didn’t get why his friend wouldn’t talk to him at first. Igor might answer one question, and then act like he didn’t understand. Sergei and Vova really didn’t speak English, and kept elbowing Igor to explain what was going on and why Wayne was smiling at them like that, but Igor was still pretending he only spoke Russian and hesitated to translate for them. Finally Wayne realized Igor was clamming up every time Tikhonov got within earshot.

Wayne went to Walter to change the game plan. Walter would use his Ukrainian to ask Coach Tikhonov about his many amazing accomplishments, while Wayne told the whole party he wanted to show the other boys his medals, which were all down in the basement. Unfortunately the Gretzky family’s basement was very small, and housed Wayne’s many, many medals, so only two people could possibly fit down there at a time: one Gretzky, and one Russian. Tikhonov thought about it, decided he didn’t care about someone else’s medals, and gave the okay.

 Just in case, Wayne deputized his dad’s buddy Charlie, who did not speak Russian or anything like it but was somebody’s dad from suburban Ontario, to chat up the KGB agent.

So Wayne began to escort the Green Unit, one by one, down to his family’s basement. At the bottom of the stairs, he handed them a beer. The two of them chugged their beers together, trying not to take suspiciously long or laugh too loud, and then ran back up to change out for the next boy.

Nothing happened that night. It didn’t change anything, except that Tikhonov never found out. The Greens had been able to get one over on him, because they didn’t have to do it alone.

Main

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[welcometomy20s]

February 8, 2021

Welcome to the final part of the Introduction of Nijisanji. Thanks for going through all of them, if you did. It was pain to work with so much and so little. This part would cover everyone who has debuted in the year 2020.

Nijisanji IN 1st Gen

Aadya - The name means beautiful. 21 year old, who likes to play games and sing. Does dancing as a day job, so acts as a gaming nightingale. She has a knack for games in my cursory view, but that might be just the competitiveness.

Vihaan - The name means breaking dawn, kind of. Likes gaming very much, and plays them very loudly and complaining... which to be expected from this crew.

Noor - The name means light. Likes BL, coffee and beer, BL to the point she learned chinese from watching a BL drama. Basically a middle-aged man at heart, including a very nice husky voice. Does talks and games. Sings randomly and looks up to Rion, of all people. Ange mentioned her, Ange likes to mention foreign people.

Nijisanji KR 1st Gen

Min Suha - Knows the culture through their parents and has a nice voice. Sister Claire likes him, and who doesn’t? He’s freaking cool, man!

Shin Yuya - College student in virtual Seoul. Always has a smartphone at hand, does self-searching on a constant basis. Definitely has otaku knowledge, likes singing, drawing and cute things. Doesn’t like horror games, but played a lot on stream.

Plays a lot of different games, including FPS like Apex, and this is where she gets to collaborate with Japanese senpais, which is always fun to see.

Gaon - Originally Moarin’s brother, but Moarin left, so the lore changed. Has a twintail for attention purposes. Only member of Nijisanji KR to work as a job, but quit as the end of 2020. He’s pretty cool. Not nice, but definitely not a mean person either.

Han Chiho - He’s a time-displaced psychic, and so speaks with a high register. High register is usually seen as old, people don’t use it anymore, but it’s usually perfectly understandable... it’s an interesting quirk. Other than that, pretty normal streamer.

2020 Part 1 (Jan-Apr)

Furen E Lustario - During debut, expressed a liking choking oneself... so we know who we are dealing with. Has to add using fingers, as to illustrate her math prowess. But overall a fun person to watch, and has a pretty good variety of streams.

Melissa Kinrenka - Wants to be a songwriter, but still needs help. But she is a great singer, and can write and mix songs. Usually called Meli. Has a deep side, basically.

Ibrahim - Originally an oil prince, but now runs an onsen. Acts like a child at times due to his supposed past, and he is muslim, as the lore and name implies. But overall, fits right in with the child-like male of Nijisanji... kind of.

Nagao Kei - He’s an exorcist, but really does any job. Pretty good at all kinds of fighting. Pretty old in terms of human member at the age 26. Very much like Ibrahim, but much more bishonen, which melts a woman's heart. Oh, he’s good at learning stuff. Like he tries to learn morse code, and completely memorized the KTANE manual. Just to make Fumi, one of his seniors, happy for a while. That’s some big dedication.

Genzuki Tojiro - Works as a secretary for the gods. Has that unmatching haircut. Very good at making songs and does mixing for Nijisanji events.

Kaida Haru - A demon researcher, but too lazy. Quiet and nice voice leading the viewer to see him as a mother figure, but as you guess, he doesn’t like it due to the work. Oh, said a slur on stream but got banned less than Yumeoi, which is quite sus.

Nijisanji ID Gen 3

Azura Cecillia - An alien angel. Has a sword with a really long name, but calls it Chonsuke for short. She’s pretty cute and a little bit ditzy, from what I remember. Got mistaken as a boy, which is such an odd thing, but maybe it’s the deep voice?

Nara Haramaung - A princess of a tribe. Originally released as part of 1st gen, but got delayed here, but the gen mates fit together very well. Sings spontaneously sometimes.

Layla Alstroemeria - Time-traveling history major. Definitely more airheaded of the group and most child-like of the generation. But she’s pretty fun to watch, regardless.

Nijisanji KR Gen 2

So Nagi - Traveling virtual Japan, speaking fluent Japanese with a nice clear voice. Likes Ange Katrina, which she readily repriocates. Seen as the top seed in Nijisanji KR.

Lee Siu - A female kitsune, and yes from the same illustrator as Fubuki. Likes dad jokes and an endurance player and does speak three languages. Roha likes her. Occasionally can hear the apartment announcement, which is always a fun moment.

Chae Ara - She’s an angel, and a great singer. And likes to people-watch. Has a cute voice, and good at hosting. I really liked her in the streams that I watched. There’s something about her personality that speaks to me.

2020 Part 2 (May-August)

Sorahoshi Kirame - Made her name through twitter, and traded fan art with KR members. Has the same illustrator as Kanata. Couldn’t stream due to money purposes for four days, got his PC after a month of hard work. Overall a poor and diligent girl.

Asahina Akane - 1st year high-schooler. Very energetic and follow people well. Likes a Jpop band, and likes to travel as well. Also does a lot of collabs with senpais.

Suo Sango - The youngest member of the theater club, which is the theme of the latest generation. Has a wide range, and likes Sanrio and tomato. Very motherly calm voice.

Like girly anime, you know Pretty Cure and stuff. Likes western pop music as well.

Todo Kohaku - Third-year high schooler. Said she’s a lady, but she’s definitely just a normal girl. Had a good cover of Mela, and overall a decent streamer.

Kitakoji Hisui - Middle-school transfer student. Likes a lot of different things, but Minecraft is what she is most known for... I guess it makes sense.

Nishizono Chigusa - She’s the troublesome one of the theater group. Very frequently makes sexual quips. Also I thought she was a boy when I first saw her. Definitely my favorite of the newest group, and also did a stream with Matsuri as well.

And that actually has a history. You see this is not Chigusa’s first rodeo... as it is apparent, and during her previous life Matsuri and her did a sleepover, and was quite close as well... so this is actually a really nice reunion. I didn’t know that until now.

Nijisanji KR 3rd Gen

Nun Bora - A second-year high schooler, likes drawing and playing the recorder which she has a battle with So Nagi. Quick learner, apparently. Plays APEX and Fall Guys, but is competent in pretty much any game. Definitely top tier APEX player.

Akina Ray - Japanese streamer who streams in virtual Seoul. Does a morning talk show, likes baseball, since she’s from Hiroshima, and Shadowverse. She’s actually an art student and a meat lover. But overall, the most seiso art student of Nijisanji.

Lee Roha - Idol trainee from outer space, a mixed race. A bit of a ditz, with the appropriate thumbnails. Streams in Japanese on YouTube, in Korean on Twitch. Does a lot of League of Legend on twitch, and does evening piano stream. Likes Lee Siu.

Nijisanji ID 4th Gen

Etna Crimson - Half supernatural, likes to make everyone happy. Definitely not Amber from Genshin Impact, because Amber is Kizuna Ai. Okay, bad joke. Yeah, she’s good.

Bonnivier Pranaja - Originally a fisher, but quit after being swindled. Usually appears with KR streams, actually. Maybe likes Hana? Who knows.

Siska Leontyne - Security officer for shady company. Pretty good at games involving killing... make sense considering her profession. Pretty cool and laid-back.

Nijisanji KR 4th Gen

Ryu Hari - Likes to collect nightmares, likes reading and playing the electric guitar.

Shin Kiru - A 25-year old NEET, has an odd way of speaking and strange topics. Likes Rock and horror movies. He seems pretty laid-back as well.

Yang Nari - 19-year old girl from a different world who now lives in the countryside. Pretty good at hosting with her cute voice. Likes sewing, and talks in high status. She has a thing of suffering, and that kind of comes out from lore.

Oh Jiyu - She’s a female vtuber, although she looks and sounds boyish. Third-year college student representative. Speaks Korean and Japanese, and like gacha and also singing... so maybe a boyish Suisei? I’m sure she’s more normal, though.

Nijisanji ID 5th Gen

Nagisa Arcinia - Wannabe fashion designer, speaks a bunch of languages... but that’s normal for ID... yeah, she’s cute and might be a little psychopathic. Typical.

Derem Kado - 16 year old girl going to magical school, always looking for a cat, but a special cat that makes contracts and stuff. High pitched scares and gets lost.

Reza Avanluna - He’s a world chronicler, he visits and chronicles worlds in his dreams. Has a ship going on with Hana, I think? I’m not sure. Please correct this, if untrue.

There you go! All 139 extant members as of February 8th, 2021, which is the third anniversary of Nijisanji... that was a long post... even though it was in three parts. Sorry for filling the days with this... I have been busy with collecting data and so on. But I hope you have a good inkling of the landscape that is Nijisanji.

[bethagain]

I saw a post the other day lamenting that Din probably hasn’t felt the sun on his skin in years, and it reminded me that I never did share a tumblr version of this fic.

So, here's part III of my series On From Here. In which Din moves some rocks, eats some cake, and sits in a sunbeam.

Honest Work

The inn has a mechanical lift. It’s a small square box that lowers on a pulley. A thin cable rises from its roof and disappears into darkness above. Din looks at it skeptically and then takes the stairs. They’re narrow and dark, the treads shallow.  

“Leave the key!” the innkeeper calls after him, as he strides across the dimly lit lobby toward the exit. 

Making an enemy of his host here is not a good idea. 

He pauses to lay the key on the counter. The dull brass shank of it clinks against its worn metal fob. There’s nothing in the room to steal, anyway. 

-

The town center consists of a handful of low-slung buildings, all with the same tile roofs. Din pauses at the window of a repair shop. Everything inside looks old, mechanical, un-streamlined. They’d probably know exactly how to fix up the Razor Crest, with its pre-Imperial control system and antique wiring. If there were still a Razor Crest to fix.

Next is a general store, with bolts of fabric, tools, and fresh produce all for sale together. There’s a four-legged riding beast tied outside, a simple saddle on its back. A woman is choosing meemfruit from a bin near the door. She turns to watch him walk by. 

There doesn’t seem to be a proper drinking establishment. At the end of the row is a small cafe, with a handful of tables and a bar at the back. Several of the tables are occupied. Some people on their own, some groups of adults, a couple of families. Most have plates of food in front of them. A shelf above the bar holds an assortment of liquor bottles. 

This place will have to do. 

He orders a glass of whiskey, for the sake of manners, and settles in at the bar to wait. The armor serves as its own advertisement. 

"You're not going to find what you’re looking for here."

He turns toward the voice. The words are from a grizzled man seated at a corner table. 

Din doesn’t bother answering, just squares his shoulders back toward the bar again. Every place has someone who’s hiding. And someone else who wants them found.

The man has come over to the bar, now, and is sliding onto the stool beside him. 

Great.

"This is not that kind of town."

"Every town is that kind of town." 

"Not here." The man signals to the waiter, who pours something from a spigot and sets it down. Tiny bubbles break its surface, making a faint sound of static. He takes a drink. "We didn't hold with the Empire. We don't hold with the New Republic. We live and let live, around here."

"Fine." Maybe if Din agrees, this man will go away.

"You try to bring somebody in, the whole town's going to stop you."

"Look," says Din, "I have no quarrel with anyone here. I'm just looking to earn a few credits."

The helmet’s interface lets him know that someone’s taken the barstool on his other side. The screen fills the gaps in his peripheral vision. It’s a woman, long hair in a braid, sleeveless top and arms of solid muscle.

“Not here,” she says.

The other tables are emptying, more townspeople coming to form a semicircle behind him. Even the children are glaring at him.

Damn.

“All right.” He knows better than to move his hands without a warning. “Let me pay for my drink, and I’ll be on my way.” He reaches slowly for the pouch at his waist, keeping his hand well clear of his blaster. “What do I owe you?”

The bartender names a figure. Din doubles it, setting down the small stack of credits before rising to leave. 

The bartender tries to give the extra back. “That’s too much.”

“You keep it,” Din says. “Payment for the trouble.”

“Hold on.” It’s the man on the barstool beside him again. “You really just looking for work?”

Din waits, standing there by the bar. The townspeople stay there in their circle, but hands are starting to drift away from holsters. The weapons here seem to be mostly slugthrowers. Mechanical things, not blasters with their circuitry and electrics. Interesting.

“Any kind of work?” the man asks.

There are limits, even for someone like Din. “Honest work.”

The man grins at him, white teeth flashing through his unruly beard. “You look strong enough,” he says. “If it’s not beneath you, in your fancy armor there. I need somebody to move some rocks."

-

The job is not at all what Din had in mind, but it does, indeed, sound like honest work. And he’s not in a place to be picky. 

He’s sitting next to the bearded man on a plank across the front of a high-wheeled wooden cart. The cart is pulled by two solid-looking beasts, four-legged and shaggy. Their pace is sedate and steady, the cart rolling easily over grassland. They’re headed toward a row of trees in a valley, between rolling hills. 

The trees mark a stream, the man says, and on that stream is an old stone dam that diverts the water. “We’re opening up new farmland. Need to get that water back in its proper course. Get it down to the right place on the land. My regular crew could do it, but it’s heavy work. They’re not itching to volunteer.”

“Why not use an antigrav lifter?” Why pay a man for a whole day’s work, when a simple machine would cut that down to a couple of hours. 

“We’re not big believers in tech around here. Parts have to be imported. Electric’s complicated to repair. We don’t care to be dependent on anyone, any more than we have to.”

That explains the shop in town, then, with its antique machinery in the window. And the hotel lift, and the drying jets that don’t work anymore.

“That’s why the slugthrowers?"

-

“You noticed. That’s right.” The man chuckles. “Keeps things calmer, too. If you have to forge a new bullet every time you use one, you’re a little less likely to draw.”

The cart trundles along. The sky overhead is a clear blue, the sun warm. Din nudges up the cooling system in his armor. 

They go along a little way among the trees, until they’re beside a narrow stream of clear water. It emerges from a low pile of stones at the edge of a pond. 

From his seat on the cart, the man points to a smaller valley that runs off to the right. “The pond drains over that way, now. Pull the dam out, and it’ll run the way it should again.”

Din takes in the clear stream, the small oval pond, the branching valley. “Who’s using that water now?”

“The folks over yonder were a little too friendly with the Empire,” the man says. “Town asked them to leave.”

“Did they leave?”

“I thought you bounty hunters had a rule about asking questions.”

“This isn’t a Guild job,” Din says.

“Suppose not." The man turns to reach toward the back of the cart, and Din tenses. But he’s just picking up a wooden box by its leather handle. He hands it to Din. "Here's lunch. We're not fancy but our crew eats well. Water in the stream's safe to drink. And don’t worry, there’s no one left to come bother you.”

He waits while Din climbs down from the cart. “You could walk out when you’re done, but it's a long way after a day's work. I'll be back to get you at sundown."

Din watches the cart make its sedate way back through the trees, the shaggy beasts pulling at their traces, the man humming off-key as he goes.

He finds a flat rock to put the lunch box on. It contains a dented metal cup, a stack of wrapped sandwiches, some pieces of a fruit he doesn’t recognize, and a generous slice of cake that smells of ginger and dark sugar.

He closes the box back up again and goes over to inspect the dam.

This certainly isn’t his usual kind of work. But a ship needs fuel and a man needs food, and pushing on to the next port with just the credits he has on hand feels reckless. Unwise. Plus, being in debt to Boba Fett is like a deep itch under his skin. It’s not comfortable. He wants it gone. 

Din is no engineer, but piloting a ship means he’s used to thinking in three dimensions. He considers the shape of the dam, the way the rocks are stacked atop one another, the chinks where the water flows through. The thing looks like it was hand-built, the stones large enough not to move with the water but small enough to be picked up. The original stream cut a gully into the soil, but it’s shallow, the dam itself only a bit over knee-high. 

The forest floor here is carpeted with broad, leathery leaves. Wide-trunked trees are spaced far apart, with little undergrowth between them. Their canopies cast shade across the ground. Here and there, a few sunbeams find their way through. 

If he starts at the far side, removing the rocks in vertical columns, the stream should come slowly back to life. His gloves will protect his hands from the roughness of the stone. His boots are already sticking in the mud at the edge of the water. They’re water-resistant, good for a while in a rainstorm, but they’re going to be soaked through by the time he’s done. 

At first, muscles complain at being asked to move in ways they’re not used to. This steady pattern of bend, lift, bend is very different from the sudden, sharp quickness of a fight. His daily workouts are rigorous but they’re precise, prescribed patterns. Each of these stones has a different shape, a different weight. Keeping his feet out of the water, keeping his balance on the slight slope makes each one its own physics problem, its own little challenge.

Soon enough, though, he’s settled into the rhythm of it. He remembers to use his legs when lifting, to save strain on his back. He kicks up the cooling system again, as sweat begins to gather under the armor. 

The armor’s physiological monitors are simple, but they register heartbeat, breathing, temperature. Normally, he ignores the ping that says it might be time to take a break, to drink some water and catch his breath. Because normally, when that ping goes off, taking a break would either be desperately stupid--in the middle of a firefight?--or stupidly desperate, like during the hours walking the Tatooine desert back to Mos Eisley, carrying the wreckage of a speeder bike, no water at all on board.

This time, he gets the dented cup from the wooden box and carries it over to the stream. It’s already flowing faster, but his work has kicked up sediment. Din goes back to the box, grabs one of the wrapped sandwiches, and sets out to find the pond’s other outlet. 

It’s not far. The other stream burbles over a few rocks at the edge of the pond, then curves through another shallow gully and off down a gentle slope and away. One of the great trees rises nearby, a couple of its wide roots undercut by the water. 

He’s starting to feel chilled as the cooling system interacts with sweat-dampened clothing, so he switches the cooling circuits off. The helmet’s interface tells him the air outside is still warm. 

Din considers, sandwich in one hand, cup in the other. There is a sunbeam crossing over the tree roots, making the water sparkle.

The forest around him is quiet. 

Decision made, he dips the cup in the stream, then chooses a spot to sit on one of the wide tree roots, back against the trunk. He balances the cup on the leaf-covered ground, sets the sandwich down beside it. Then he lifts the helmet from his head, setting it in his lap as he rests his head on the tree’s rough bark, eyes closed against the brightness of the sun.

When did he last feel sunlight on his skin? It’s been a while. Before he picked up the child, surely. It hasn’t been safe to let his guard down. How long before that, though? He thinks back, but it’s a blur of work, the halls of the Nevarro covert, the streets of strange towns. 

Din knows better than to stay in the sun for long. Skin that’s always covered has no defense against UV rays. After a few minutes he shifts to the shade, sitting crosslegged on the forest floor. The water from the stream is sweet, with a slight mineral taste underneath. The sandwich isn’t bad either, fresh bread dotted with different kinds of grain, slices of some kind of tender meat and crisp green leaves with just a hint of bitter.

He makes his way back around the pond to continue the work. Wiggle each stone free. Lift, carry. He’s building a sort of stone cairn, setting each one down neatly, just because it feels good to see the thing take shape. 

His gloves are soaked by now, as he has to reach into the water to get at the lowest rows of stones. The water can’t be good for the circuits in the vambraces so he sheds those, too, setting them down on the flat rock beside the wooden lunch box, where his helmet already sits. 

He could keep the cooling system running, but it’s not designed for this kind of exertion. The constant movement will keep the power cell charged, but he’s sweating in spite of it, and the chill from the beskar is a distraction instead of a comfort. 

He’s already vulnerable without the helmet and the vambraces. He lays out cuirass, pauldrons, hip and thigh plates on that flat stone. His hand pauses on the blaster, but if it’s waterlogged it’s not going to work at all. 

He looks down at the thick fabric of the flightsuit, already wet at wrists and ankles. He's got another layer underneath it. May as well leave that too. 

He makes a detour through another sunbeam on the way back to the dam. 

Without the armor to filter the outside world, he’s aware of the warmth of the sun on his back. Of the change in temperature between sun and shadow. 

Without the helmet’s interface, he marks time by how the patches of sun creep slowly across the forest floor. 

When a rush of water takes him by surprise, soaking him from elbow to wrist and chest to hip, he sheds his shirt, laying it out on the stone cairn to dry. 

The air is still warm. The water that splashes his wrists is cool. He pauses again for food, then sets back to work. At one point he cups his hands in the running stream and drinks, then runs wet hands through his sweat-soaked hair. 

Clearing the last few stones means sinking his hands into mud to wrest them free. When he’s carried them over and set them atop the neat pile, he looks down and finds he’s covered in mud from chest to waistband. 

His employer said he’d be back at sunset. Din looks up, judging the height of the sun in the sky. Late afternoon, he guesses, edging into evening. It’s unpleasant fitting the helmet back on over wet hair, his face still damp with sweat, but he does it. The chrono built into the interface tells him there’s a good two hours until sundown. 

He turns a slow circle, heat and motion sensors overlaying his vision, sound turned up high. There’s birdsong high above him, but otherwise the forest is still. 

He fetches his shirt, piles the armor and flightsuit into his arms and carries it all to the edge of the pond. Then, thinking what the hell, he shucks boots, socks, and leggings and wades on in. 

Din doesn’t know how to swim. It’s not a skill he normally needs in his work. It’s not a skill he particularly needs now, either. But the mud is pleasantly soft against his feet, the water soothing to tired muscles. He ducks his head under, scrubs at the dirt on his chest, rinses away sweat. 

For the second time today, he uses his shirt to dry off. The approach of evening is bringing a slight chill to the air, so he pulls his other clothes back on, fastening the flightsuit over his bare chest this time before setting the pieces of his armor in place. 

Back at the flat stone he considers another sandwich, decides on the cake instead, and then sits there a while, licking sugar from his fingers and watching the stream at its full strength now as it sparkles its way down the valley. 

True to his word, the man is back with the wagon just as the sunbeams finish fading. He takes note of the neat cairn, and of the unfettered stream. “I wasn’t sure you’d really do it,” he says. “Guy like you. Work like this.”

Din just looks at him, impassive behind the helmet. He’s pretty much done with dignity these days, but this man doesn’t need to know it. 

“Well,” the man says. “We’re clearing more land tomorrow. If you want another day’s work.”

“I’ll take my pay for this one.”

“Of course.” He counts out the amount they agreed on and drops it into Din’s hand. “I mean it. We can always use a strong set of hands.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Where are you staying?”

Din names the inn. 

The man nods. “I’ll drop you there?”

“That would be fine.”

-

The first stars are out by the time Din steps down from the wagon, credits in his pocket and the last two sandwiches in his hand. He picks up the key from the innkeeper, climbs the narrow stairs, locks the door of the room behind him. He hangs his wet shirt in the shower room, lays out his wet gloves and socks to dry, strips off the armor and sets it carefully on the floor. His skin smells faintly of mud and minerals, but he can’t be bothered to shower. He sits by the window to eat, watching more stars emerge from the clear, dark sky. 

The money in his pocket won’t buy much. It’s a little more fuel, another day or two of getting by. 

He’ll leave in the morning. Probably. 

He still has no idea where to go.

[masonscig]

first line tag game

thank you for the tag @crackerdumortain !!!!! yours were so much fun to read omg !!!!

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

[disclaimer: i write for the choices fandom and some for litg so you’ll see a mix of those fandoms on this list LMAO]

1. stay [twc – mason x sofía]

The first time was casual. She had a knack for musing her thoughts aloud, tossing her harmless opinions out for anyone who’d catch them.

She was good at starting conversations in that way – while he’d never been one for talking.

She never did it with heavy topics, though.

2. thieves in the shadows [choices – blades au – mal x zilyana]

bullets pelted the crates they were crouched behind, wood splintering in every direction. bodies were strewn across the warehouse, the unmistakable pools of blood streaking across the stone.

“raine! to your left!” immy yelled her way, barely sparing her a glance before unloading her clip, shell casings clinking against the ground.

the gun trembled in yana’s hands. she’d shot one before – practice at the gun range, glass bottles in a back alley – but never a live target.

3. if we meet again [choices – open heart au – bryce x spencer] 18+

year one

The ride from the airport to her parents’ home was long and grueling, the slushy ice pelting the windshield barely passing for snow.

It was practically sub-zero outside, a stark difference between the mid seventies weather she’d just left.

4. clandestine [twc – mason x sofía] 18+

“hey. hey wake up –”

she stirred at the greeting, but jumped when he kicked the desk. her face contorted into a grimace, the imprint of her tweed jacket on her cheek outlined in pink. “hmm?”

“you fell asleep again,” he said, plopping a bag in front of her.

5. undying [choices – blades – mal x zilyana]

Zilyana stirred, resituating herself against Mal’s bare chest, feeling his arm instinctively tighten around her shoulders. When she realized she was missing the sound of his deep breathing, accompanied with an occasional soft snore, she cracked an eye open to see his chin tipped upwards, his gaze trained on the ceiling.

6. talent show [choices – platinum – shane x dom]

There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t cross his mind. Even since they were kids.

He admired so much about her – her fiery spirit, her drive, her unwavering tenacity.

And he’d been in love with Dom for as long as he could remember.

7. redeemed [choices – platinum – raleigh x dom]

As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

8. hidden [choices – foreign affairs – blaine x carina] 18+

Her cheek slipped out of the palm of her hand, forehead smacking the desk, nearly jumping out of her skin at the abrupt awakening.

“Ow.”

She prodded the tender spot on her face, thankful her foundation was thick.

A soft snore caught her attention – next to her, Blaine was passed out. Leaning back in his chair, his head was thrown back, arms crossed against his chest, the textbook on its face in his lap.

9. is this fate? [litg au – bobby x mc] 18+

The peroxide was cold when it hit her skin, the liquid bubbling on her knee, relentlessly stinging. She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

“Sorry… should be over soon,” he murmured, wiping up the stray liquid that streamed down her leg with a small rag.

The heaviness of the atmosphere between them was almost too much to bear – they’d barely spoken since he helped her onto the counter in his small office, leg propped up between his own, where he sat in his desk chair.

10. asvista cove [litg college au – bobby x elena]

Bobby’s thumb flicked the lighter repeatedly until he got a consistent flame, moving slowly from left to right over the edge of the blunt. His cheeks hollowed out as he sucked in, the tip of it an auburn ember. He pulled it out of his mouth and sucked in an even deeper breath, holding it.

When he blew out the thick cloud of smoke, he passed it to her, coughing under his breath. “Whew. Your turn.”

She followed suit, the thick smoke coating the inside of her lungs, bitter and heavy. She exhaled, the shroud smoke enveloping her view of the sealine.

11. reticent [twc – mason x sofía] 18+

She was bare.

Bare in the way that one is when they’ve been stripped down and torn apart with a trained gaze just calculating enough for them to feel seen – parts of her she didn’t know she’d hidden splayed out like withered pages of a book, dog-eared and marked up like a frequently reread novel.

One he’d reread because it was familiar, because it had fallen into his lap (he hadn’t searched for it), not so much because it was his favorite.

12. more [twc – mason x sofía] 18+

He laced his fingers through her thick hair, reveling in the way his skin looked contrasted against the midnight of her hair.

[the way i can’t post more than this bc it’s....... very nsfw right out the bat LMFAO]

13. calm before the storm [choices – open heart – bryce x spencer]

Since the moment his hands trembled amidst one of the most important surgeries of his life, Bryce was holding on by a thread.

With each half-assed joke he cracked, each wavering smile, each time he tried convincing others – including himself – that he was coping, he fell apart more and more.

The first night he went home after Spencer was quarantined, he trudged through the halls of Edenbrook, like he was dragging his legs through wet concrete. He was nearly magnetized to her bedside, not wanting to leave, but he needed to rest – he’d been awake for nearly a day and a half by the time he clocked out.

14. envy | part two of the attached series [twc – mason x sofía x felix]

He strode down the hallway, hands in his pockets to give the illusion that he didn’t give a shit, when he was most definitely on edge. His fingers flicked his lighter open and closed against the twill lining of his pockets, trying to focus on the soft clicking noise it made instead of the swarm of thoughts clouding his conscience.

He still couldn’t figure out why he cared so much.

15. comfort | part one of the attached series [twc – mason x sofía x felix]

He noticed it before she did.

Her pulse didn’t jump the same way it did the first dozen times he walked into the room. The blood didn’t rush to her cheeks, or creep up her neck, the crimson flush absent even when he tried his hardest to fluster her. And it normally took next to nothing to get her to turn into a bumbling mess.

16. out of time [choices – open heart – sienna x danny]

She sprinted down the hallway, pager still beeping erratically on her hip, the weight of the numbers enough to make her feel like she was slugging through wet concrete.

No, no, not him, please, not him, she chanted to herself, vision blurring with tears before she had the chance to let the negative possibilities set in.

17. unrequited part three [choices – open heart – bryce x spencer]

She slumped into the seat in the deserted waiting room, her joints popping as she stretched, her deep sigh echoing off of the tile. She was exhausted.

She could usually push through the worst of her shifts, but fatigue settled into her bones, a lethargy she’d never experienced entrapping her like a net, and she couldn’t fight her way out of it this time.

18. signs [choices – ride or die – logan x raquel]

“A final in sign language? Couldn’t you just have a conversation with the teacher or some shit?” Logan sat across from her on the couch, watching as her fingers bent and flexed, transfixed.

She stopped abruptly, screwing her mouth to the side in concentration. She repeated the same few moves, getting more and more frustrated with each sequence.

19. mementos [choices – ride or die – logan x raquel]

The sound of his boots slapping against the damp pavement reverberated off of the brick of the alleyways, his gasping breaths adding to the symphony that was his escape.

20. warmth [twc – mason x sofía]

“You’re going the wrong way,” Mason grunted, looking particularly stiff in her passenger seat.

“I thought we could take the scenic route,” she shrugged, flicking her high beams on as she turned off of the main road leading downtown, easing on the brakes when the tires hit the gravel.

okay so....... i didn’t really realize just HOW MUCH i’ve written since the summer? i’ve fallen into a pattern where i think i’m a failure bc of how slow i am to write because i have so many series i’ve started and dropped off and wips i’ve abandoned but.... i’ve managed to write for most appreciation weeks i’ve both hosted/participated in and i’ve written for THREE fandoms.... i don’t normally gas myself up but? i’m really? proud of myself? KSJDJKSD if you read this far thank you and you’re prob watching me have a breakdown over how much i’ve managed to write oh my GOD ok i need to lie down KLSDFKASFJD i didn’t even think i could hit 20 but i did???? alright i’m officially gonna treat myself at some point bc i did all this in less than a year.... these are from the end of july 2020 to now..... wow ok im done i promise SKDFJKSDF

tagging: @raleighcarrera and @pixeljazzy !!! <3 

[notebooknebula]

The Power of your Own Expert Positioning Book with Max Keller

https://www.jayconner.com/the-power-of-your-own-expert-positioning-book-with-max-keller/

Real estate investing success isn’t just about selling houses. It’s about selling yourself… to sellers and lenders.

Imagine what your business would look like with a consistent stream of deals… all from motivated sellers and private lenders in your market who… see YOU as the Clear Choice!

In this episode Jay Conner talks to former math teacher turned real estate investor, Max Keller about how he stopped chasing leads and struggling to compete for deals by positioning himself as the “Trusted Expert” with his own book.

Max also shares how you can copy his strategy to Stand Out from the competition…even if you’re not a writer.

You definitely don’t want want to miss this.

Especially if you are investing in a market packed with flippers and wholesalers… all chasing the same motivated seller leads.

Real Estate Cashflow Conference:

https://www.jayconner.com/learnrealestate

Free Webinar:

http://bit.ly/jaymoneypodcast

Jay Conner is a proven real estate investment leader. Without using his own money or credit, Jay maximizes creative methods to buy and sell properties with profits averaging $64,000 per deal.

#RealEstate #PrivateMoney #FlipYourHouse

————————————————————

Jay Conner (00:00): Well, hello there! And welcome to another episode of Real Estate Investing with Jay Conner. I’m your host, Jay Conner also known as the Private Money Authority. And what do we do here on the show? Well, we talk all things real estate. We talk about how to find deals, how to fund deals, how to sell properties fast, how to automate your business. And we talk about all kinds of real estate. We talk about single family houses, commercial properties, multifamily, land deals, self storage, and you name it. We talk about it, but if you’ve been tuning into the show, since we launched back in 2018 you know, that I have amazing guests here on the show today is no exception, but before I introduce you to my special guest, what is it about private money? Why am I known as the Private Money Authority?

Jay Conner (01:02): Well, back when I started investing in single family houses back in 2003 here in Eastern North Carolina, the first six years, I’ve relied on local banks and mortgage companies to fund my deals. And I got cut off like the rest of the world did in January of 2009. It’s that time I was introduced and learned about private money. And since that time, and by the way, I’m not talking about hard money. I’m talking about private money doing business with individuals, human beings, borrowing money from their investment capital or their retirement accounts by using self directed IRAs. Well, since that time I’ve starting to use private money back in 2009, I have not missed out on a deal because I did not have the funding. You know, we can talk about terms and creative financing, all we want to, but at the end of the day, most sellers are going to require all the cash.

Jay Conner (01:56): And so when you got money sitting on the shelf, you don’t have to worry about missing out on deals and my special guest today, that’s going to be a big part of our topic to talk about today. And that’s private money, Again, before I introduce him while we’re on the topic of private money, I’ve got a free invitation and gift for all of my viewers and listeners. And that is I just launched what’s called The Private Money Academy membership. And I have got a free 30 days for you to take advantage of that and access. You get me twice a month, live with coaching and training and talking about private money and all aspects of real estate investing. And so if you’d like to check out the membership and come check it out for free for a full 30 days, you can get on over to www.JayConner.com/trial.

Jay Conner (03:00): Well today, my special guest is a very, very good friend. We’ve known each other for quite a while now. And I’ve invited him to come on the show today. And we’re going to be talking about Deals Chasing You ain’t that pretty cool. When the deals are chasing you, you’re not having to chase them. Or also, as I said, we’re going to be talking about private money. Well, as you probably know, when it comes to residential real estate, well, most success for real estate investors are gonna tell you that 80% of their time is focused on two things. In fact, these two things are the most common two questions that I get asked when I’m doing training. And that is Jay, how do I find deals? And how do I get my deals funded? Where do I find the deals? Where do I get the money?

Jay Conner (03:52): Well, it’s no secret. Motivated Seller Leads are yes, the life blood of your business. I tell my coaching students and clients all the time, unless you’ve got consistent deal flow, motivated sellers coming into your pipeline in your funnel all the time, every day, you are not in business. So, in addition to that, if you are investing in a highly competitive market with a lot of flippers and a lot of wholesalers, well, competition for the seller leads everybody’s just fighting over those leads. Well, that means that generating motivated seller leads is really the main major part of the equation. You see, you also got to convince those leads to choose you over doing business with your competition. Now, in addition to that, when it comes to raising private money, well, a lot of lenders, especially new private lenders, they can be concerned about picking the right real estate investor to do business with over the right deal. So the question is […] believe it or not, the man himself, Robert Kiyosaki.

Jay Conner (05:56): And my guest was presented with the 2019 industry innovator of the year award. In addition to that, he’s fueled by his passion for real estate, and he’s a, still a teacher at heart, right? He teaches he coaches. And today he’s going on my show to share a strategy that’s working right now in some of the most competitive real estate markets across the country. And this strategy is yes, transforming ordinary real estate investors into being a trusted expert in the eyes of motivated sellers. And, one of my favorite subjects and topics, private lenders. So with that, my good friend, Max Keller, welcome to the show.

Max Keller (06:45): Alright. Hey, glad to be here.

Jay Conner (06:48): Glad to have you Max, and tell everybody, where are you coming from today? Where do you hail from?

Max Keller (06:54): Yeah. Fort Worth, Texas. So, you know, in between Dallas and Fort Worth and starting to cool down and things are going well.

Jay Conner (07:03): Well, here’s where I want to start. We’re going to be talking about deals chasing you. We’re going to be talking about private money, but before we jump in Max, I want people to hear your story because you’ve got quite the fascinating story. I mean, you know, you had some of the same frustrations, challenges and obstacles that a lot of real estate investors, you know, have faced out there and that is looking for and chasing motivated sellers. And, you know, it’s something that all real estate investors at one time or another, particularly when they were starting out can relate to. So we want to hear your story. Tell us about from math teacher to becoming a trusted expert in this lucrative house buying business.

Max Keller (07:50): Sure! Yeah, awesome. So, you know so it’s it’s 2017, well like transport there and things are going okay. You know it’s, I flipped nearly a hundred houses and, you know, I’m making money, but I’m getting the feeling like, you know, I’m only as good as my next deal. I’m in a very competitive market, you know, the Dallas Fort Worth area. And I need a lot of leads to run my business. And if I don’t, you know, have leads for my business, then I don’t have any deals. So, you know, no deals, no business, you know, I’m going back to being a teacher. So I knew that, you know, leads were Motivated Seller Leads, especially with true motivation was the lifeblood of my business. And, you know, Jay in a, probably a two, three hour span or, or two, three years, I had tried nearly everything. You know, I had tried you know, different websites band-it signs. I tried, you know, cold calling.

Max Keller (08:50): I had people in the Philippines cold calling, you know, yellow letters. Every list that I could find. So I worked, you know, pre foreclosure, vacant properties, tax, the link went on and on and on. And, you know, all these things worked, but they were very unpredictable. And I felt like there was a lot of waste. And at the time it wasn’t deals chasing you, you know, that’s what happened now. It was the total opposite. I felt like I was chasing people. And so I wanted to fix this, I wanted to solve it. So, you know, it didn’t actually take very long to figure out what the problem was. You know, Jay, the problem was, is I was basically sending out the same messages and the same mail to all the motivated sellers on these lists that all the other investors, you know, were sending out to.

Max Keller (09:40): So I was basically, you know, another investor in the stack of mail. Sometimes they would pick me, you know, sometimes they wouldn’t and when they didn’t pick me, usually it was because it was either a newer investor that was overpaying, or maybe it was a hedge fund. And so, you know, I’m glad I didn’t get into that trap of paying too much for deals. Cause that’s definitely a way that you can go out of business quickly, but I needed to, you know, I need to buy deals and I needed to play the game in order to, you know, to win. And so I just kinda kept sending out more of the same thing that wasn’t working as well. And my return on my marketing investment just kept going down and just kinda kept getting lower. And so, you know, back then it felt like a total grind and I really didn’t feel like it was that sustainable.

Max Keller (10:29): And you know, the whole reason that I left teaching was because I wanted, you know, more than just a grind, I wanted to get more out of life. I wanted to do big things with my family. And so I kinda, I went on this quest to find a better way and I didn’t want to continue the way that I was going any further. And it took me on this really, really unexpected journey. What happened was, I made a list of all the deals that I had done up to that point. And I was looking for the deals that met these three conditions. So they were, the deals had to be profitable, they had to be the type where the seller didn’t resist my offer. So they were really open to what I was doing. It was, I was like the consultant. That’d be fun.

Max Keller (11:13): You know, I didn’t want to, this is my home buying company, save your home buyers. And, you know, I wanted to have fun. I wanted to help people and I wanted to make money. So there was kind of good and bad news. The good news was, I’ll go with the bad news first, the bad news was is that most of my deals that I had done up to that point did not meet all three criteria. The good news was, is that when I did see the few deals that met all three of those, they were all they all had the same pattern and it was, they weren’t just motivated sellers. They were senior homeowners. And so I went on this quest to find senior homeowners, something kind of unexpected happen again. And then that’s what, that’s how it turned into, you know, having a new tool for private money lenders too.

Max Keller (12:03): So if it’s okay with you, if we have time, let me break down what happened with the motivated sellers and then how it transitioned to this discovery I made in the private lending space. Is that okay with you?

Jay Conner (12:15): Sure. Please tell us about it.

Max Keller (12:17): Yeah. So essentially what happened was I was like, okay, these are the motivated sellers, cause you know, I mean, you know, this well as anybody Jay I mean, you have to have a deal in order to have a private money or hard money or money problem, you know, if you don’t have any deals, so it starts with the deal, so that’s what I was doing, I was starting with the deal. And I saw this group of folks, seniors that were awesome, you know, there, but so I was like, how do I get more of them?

Max Keller (12:44): So I go and look at what list they were on. And what I found was, is that they didn’t fit the typical motivated seller like buy box or category. So they weren’t you know, they weren’t in pre-foreclosure a lot of them didn’t even have mortgages, you know, it wasn’t a vacant house, It wasn’t a tired landlord. A lot of the houses actually were in good shape, they just needed like cosmetic updating. And so I was wholesaling these houses and flipping them for really good profits. And and I was like, okay, well, if I didn’t get them from a list, where did I get them? And I found that most of the folks actually came by accident, either they got my postcard by mistake, or I was trying to buy a house in the neighborhood or I was rehabbing a house in the neighborhood or referral.

Jay Conner (13:26): And I was like, okay, well how do I get more of these folks? now that I know who they are, and why are they most importantly, why are they picking me? So I called one of the sellers, it wasn’t actually the seller she’s in an assisted living facility, but I called her son because I remember this particular deal I had about, I had an offer out. There were other investors they were looking at and one of the investors made an offer that was like 10 grand, more than mine. So I, this was six months after the deal closed. They went with me and at the time I didn’t make a big deal of it, cause I didn’t want to blow the deal up. But after the fact I called up the son, I said, Hey, you know, I’m Max, you know, Save Your Home Buyers.

Max Keller (14:06): Do you remember me? He was like, Oh yeah, I remember you. I said, Hey, at the time you had said like you had gotten a higher offer. I was just wondering like, I’m glad you picked me, but why did go with me and not the higher offer? And he said, you know, Max, when we worked with you, you know, we trusted you, number one. So trust is really key, trust is like the key to marketing. I’m going to teach a couple of things around that, you know, later on and give your audience a free gift that they can use to build trust, cause it’s huge. He said, you know, when I was working with you, there wasn’t pressure. You know, the other place was offering more, but they were just kind of like, you know, when are you going to hurry up and sign when are you gonna move out of the house?

Max Keller (14:49): And he felt like I genuinely cared, you know? And I did, you know, that was a huge eye opener. Like you had mentioned earlier, Jay, you know, I was teacher. So I was at these folks’ homes, I was teaching, I was trying to help them, I was trying to help the families. And you know, I had a really close relationship with my grandma. I took care of her for 15 years of last 15 years of her life. And she helped take care of me when I was little. So, you know, so, I had that bond and I felt like when I was going over to these folks’ homes, you know, it was like I was working with my grandma. So I knew this is who I wanted to work with. I knew why they’re picking me, but the problem is, I couldn’t find a really scalable way to do this, because I’m in these folks living room sometimes for two to four hours, you know, and I had another gentleman who’s helping me buy houses.

Max Keller (15:41): And you know, we’re explaining all these details, cause these folks, there’s a huge education gap and there’s a huge education gap right now for private money lenders too. And I’m gonna share what we’re doing about that. But wherever there’s huge education gaps, I learned this being a school teacher, it’s a huge opportunity, because if you can be the person to fill that education gap, then that person, that student, that motivated seller, that private lender, you know, really is appreciative of what you’re doing, and they, you know, reward you with the business. And so, I remember it very distinctly. I went to it was at a home, I’ was buying it in the evening and it was myself, the mom who lived there by herself and the daughter, she was probably like in her early sixties. And the daughter was like, you know, Max you’ve like helped our family out a ton.

Max Keller (16:31): Actually helped the family find a place for their mom to live in an assisted living facility. And she said, you know, you’ve liked helped us out tremendously. Why don’t you, have you ever thought about writing a book about all the stuff that you know. And I was laughing, I was like, no, I don’t think so, you know, I’m not, I’m a house buyer, I’m not a writer. And, I went back to my car and I thought about it and I was like, you know, that’s actually a pretty good idea. I had spent a lot of time learning about senior housing, cause I was noticing my seniors, even when I would teach them what to do with their house, you know, they still had other things they needed to know before they can move. So I would go and learn and, you know, start talking to people at these facilities and read online and just do my research.

Max Keller (17:17): And I was like, you know, I have, I noticed the more I learned, the more I can help my prospect, the more, you know, they appreciated me. And it was like setting me apart, I’d say 95% from my competition. So I was like, okay, this is a way with a book that I could take this to the next level. So that’s what I did, I basically just sat down. I wrote down a list of all the questions that I keep getting asked and you know, folks living rooms and and then wrote the pros and the cons of different options. And that was my first book, Home to Home The Step-by-Step Senior Housing Guide. And I just printed out a hundred copies of the book. I started giving it away and you know, what it did, Jay is the book became my new business card, but it became a lot more than that.

Max Keller (18:02): You know, it also became my new credibility piece. Now I would give people my book and I would have just like instant credibility. I would have, you know, instant trust with that motivated seller. And and I was really positioned as The Senior Housing Expert. And so, to make a long story short, I used the book, It’s been an amazing way to generate deal flow. How private lending got into the mix is that was around the same time that I started making the transition from hard money to private money. And when I was reaching out to private money lenders at first, it was a lot, you know, just a little background about me. I’m doing, you know, three to four deals a month at this stage. And you know, I need to get these deals funded for short term and for long term stuff.

Max Keller (18:51): I’m reaching kinda my limit at the community banks that I had been using. So I went to hard money and it’s very expensive. And so when I started reaching out to the private money lenders, you know, they saw me as a deal maker, but I was pitching, you know, my deal to them. And I was showing them my deal and why it was a good deal or not a good deal. And sometimes they would be really excited about it, but then sometimes they’d look at me crazy because the house is in rough shape. It’s not the kind of neighborhood that maybe the private money lender would, you know, want to live in. And so I was getting mixed results. And so, at around that time, you know, fast forward about 18 months later, I, the book system that we use for private money lenders got an award at a, like a real estate conference.

Max Keller (19:36): And Robert Kiyosaki was there to give me the award. And he, I gave him a copy of my book and it was a really, really cool moment. And a gentleman in Houston named Brad Philips had been doing the exact same thing with his Private Money Book that I was doing with my Motivated Seller Book. He wrote he was a police officer. You know, I think people who work in public service, you know, they do it more than just for the money, you know? And and so he had taken all the questions that his private money lenders had asked him about and, you know, did the same thing and wrote out pros and cons. And he was using it to source private money in Houston. And so he called me and we met through a mutual friend, somebody, you know very well. And we connected, and now that’s part of part of our licensed content that we have. So, you know, originally when I made my Motivated Seller Book, when my partner Brand made his book for private lending, we never intended for anybody else to use it. And you know, later on, I’ll kind of share some of the ways that we work with you know, real estate investors and how we help them, whether it’s deals or dollars build more of that trust and that credibility, you know, so their prospects see them differently, but that’s in a nutshell, that’s really kind of how it all happened.

Jay Conner (20:59): Well, you know, some people, don’t really feel all that comfortable or really that confident in putting themselves out there as an expert or referring to themselves as an expert.

Max Keller (21:14): Right.

Jay Conner (21:14): So, you know, from the standpoint of somebody selling their house.

Max Keller (21:18): Right.

Jay Conner (21:18): Or standpoint of a private lender, loaning money out, in their mind, really what is it that qualifies somebody to be an expert?

Max Keller (21:28): Yeah. That’s a great question. You know, so, people who are committed to being an educator and an advocate for someone else, that’s truly what an expert is. It’s, you know, that’s actually a requirement that we have for our students that we don’t bend on. You know, being an expert is not a way for, you know, shady, you know, people, real estate investors to, you know, take advantage of people. It’s really about it’s not about celebrity, It’s not about when people hear the word expert.

Max Keller (22:02): A lot of times they think, Oh, well, you know, they think about people like Robert Kiyosaki, or they think about people who have done thousands of deals. And they’re like, Oh, I’m not at that level. You know, it’s an expert is not something that a title that we put on ourselves, an expert is something that our prospects see us as. And it’s really about being an educator, being an advocate, and most importantly, putting yourself out there, to be found, you know, the folks that plug into what we do, they want to be out there to be the go to persons of people in their community have questions. They can answer them and they can help. And so it’s really more about being an educator and being an advocate and putting yourself out there. That’s truly what an expert is.

Jay Conner (22:49): So you’ve written a book about, you know, to give yourself credibility when you’re talking to a seller of a property.

Max Keller (22:58): Yes.

Jay Conner (22:58): You also now have another book when you’re talking with a new potential private lender that gives you credibility as a real estate investor to be trusted. So, how powerful would you say it is in having someone having their own book to use as credibility?

Max Keller (23:17): Yeah, so great question. So it’s very, very powerful, you know, I’ll speak from my own example. You know, when I think about all the different ways that I have used my book to get a, you know, return on investment, you know, the first step I did when I got my book was I started giving it away. And a lot of times when people think a book, they think sell the book, and, you know, sure, there’s, you know, folks like you know, Stephen King, I mean, you know, JK Rowling, they sell a lot of books and make money. But for me, you know, that would have been really, really shortsighted. I mean, I did put my book on Amazon and it did hit number one on a couple of bestseller lists, I mean, that was really cool.

Max Keller (23:57): I do get some sales from it, but the biggest thing that I get as a, as a home buyer, as a real estate investor. Is it gives me three things. It gives me expert positioning in the minds of my prospect. It gives me the ability to walk into an appointment and be really prequalified because the prospect has already read and invested four or five hours learning about me and my story. And most importantly, things that are really important for them. And it’s been an ultimate referral tool. You know, I didn’t write a book you know, to have something to sell. You know, I wrote the book in order to have something that, you know, sells me. And so I think that’s a huge, huge difference. And, you know, I’ve been giving it away and it’s helped grow the business.

Max Keller (24:47): And like I said, there’s so many ways, you know, one of them is it’s a referral tool. So, you know, it’s just kinda common sense that if you give somebody a book, you know, they see it as valuable. It’s actually, it has value to us whether they read it or not, because it’s almost like having a band-it sign in their living room, cause when they get the book, they just, they’re not gonna throw it away. So they keep it around. When they read the book, they get to be with us for four or five hours reading it and we’re not there. The other thing is like when their friends, whether their friend needs to sell their house their friend is interested in doing something other than the stock market, you know, when somebody knows the person who wrote the book on a certain topic, It’s just kinda human nature for them to say, Hey, well, I know this, I know the guy who wrote the book on senior housing.

Max Keller (25:38): I know the person who wrote the book on Private Money Lending, here’s his book, you know, and they give it to them and it’s, so it’s a really, really easy way to get referrals. But most importantly, you know, word of mouth, you know, right now we’re, you know, talking to hundreds and thousands of people and the Internet’s amazing tool, but nothing really replaces word of mouth. And I have not found anything that’s been, you know, better when it comes to word of mouth and spreading than a book. So it’s been, I’ll give you another example. Used to be, we went to appointments to buy houses and, you know, we were there, bunch of other investors were there to, kind of felt like we were a dime a dozen, you know, we’re another investor in the stack.

Max Keller (26:21): Now when somebody calls our office, the first thing we do is we say, Hey, do you have a copy of our book? And they’re like, your book? Sometimes they know about it, sometimes they don’t. They say yeah, Max, can you come over? You know, and they book the appointment. Or I, if I talked to them, I book the appointment. I said, but first we want you to read chapter three of the book. It teaches you how to sell your home, you know, pros and cons of each way. If you just still decide that you want to sell it after you read that chapter, you know, then just, no problem, if you decide you don’t, just give us a call and we don’t have to come over. And so we pay a courier to send it over to their house, so they’re getting an autographed copy of our book before we even show up, they read chapter three, but they also read the other chapters.

Max Keller (27:03): You know, now they’re curious, they’re not getting a lot of autographed books from authors. We’re educating them. The book is educational. It’s answering the questions that they have, and they’re having trouble getting the answers from somebody who’s really objective. And so what it does, and the reason we’re getting a lot of exclusive deals is because the people that they call before us, they call them and say, Hey, you don’t need to come over anymore. The people that they were going to call after us that are in the big stack of mail, they don’t call them because why would they call anybody else when they have the person who wrote the book on this subject? And so it’s a really, really big game changer as far as increasing conversions, because when we’re walking in, we’re already presold, and now it’s just sort of like taking the order and just working out the details of the closing and signing the paperwork. And so, I mean, yeah, it cost me a few bucks to send out these books and send a courier, but it’s just so, so worth it. So that’s some of the ways that we get business gains and how some of our students get gains from what we do.

Jay Conner (28:05): Well, no doubt having your own book is hands down a powerful marketing tool for sure. But I can hear our viewers and listeners in their mind right now thinking to themselves, okay, I’m a real estate investor. How in the world am I supposed to write my own book? Like, how do they start?

Max Keller (28:27): Right. Well, the good news about that Jay, is that if you’re thinking that or your audience is thinking of that, imagine what your competition’s thinking, you know, like they’re thinking the exact same thing, which is a good thing because traditionally, you know, writing a book did not have a very low barrier to entry. It was a pretty high bar that you had to clear now, and we’ve made it easy for real estate investors. We think, you know, easier than anybody else ever has, but essentially there’s really two ways to do a book. And it’s really kind of, the breakdown runs along the same lines as there’s really two types of real estate investors that reach out to us. And there’s the, there’s the DIY real estate investor and the ROI. So the DIY real estate investor, you know, those are the folks that like to roll up their sleeves.

Max Keller (29:16): They invest a lot of their own time into the deals, you know, get their hands dirty. And, you know, there’s a lot of trial and error with that method and it takes a little longer to get your return on investment. But if you know, folks enjoy the process and they get satisfaction from that, then there’s like nothing wrong with that at all. So that’s the first kind of person that we help. And I’m going to share here in just a minute specifically, how we help them. The second kind of investor that comes to our Business Deals Chasing You is, I call them the ROI real estate investor. So for them it’s just like, time is money. They don’t want to go to houses. They want to have you know, the acquisitions team go to the house. They don’t work on the rehabs themselves.

Max Keller (29:59): They have teams to do that, and they really leverage a team on all aspects. And so they can focus on just walking down more deals and acquiring more money for their deals. So for the DIY real estate investor, we created the first of its kind, it’s called The Real Estate Investor Book Writing Checklist. And so we sell this, but I’m offering it to your audience, a free copy. So you can go to the links that we’ll have at the end and check it out. And this is a tremendous resource cause what it does is it breaks down, you know, how to pick an audience, how to speak specifically to your motivated sellers, how to structure a book, how to overcome writer’s block. So if you’re DIY for all areas of your business, you can plug into this book that we created that is specifically for real estate investors who want to write their own book to get more deals or dollars. That’s what it is. And so we took all the learnings that, you know, took us hundreds and hundreds of hours to learn and provided a shortcut for you. So that’s one way. And then the other way is we have some licensed content that we allow for some different niches and for the ROI, we allow them to plug into our licensed content.

Jay Conner (31:17): So you got the, do it yourself, people writing their own books, and then you get sort of done for you?

Max Keller (31:24): Yes.

Jay Conner (31:24): Right. So you got both ways. Well Max, why don’t you go ahead and tell everybody how you can help them.

Max Keller (31:33): Sure. Yeah. So just go find out about us just go to DealsChasingYou.com/Conner and that’s with an ER and we’ve got a copy of The REI Book Writing Checklist. They can check it out, get a free copy of it. And then we’ve got some links on the website once they do that, they can go into our portal and they can see what specifically what we’re doing with the different niches. So yeah, just, you know, something to explore some of the checkout and and you can get some value from this book. Like I said, we’re offering it for free for a limited time. And so yeah. Check it out. And we got our contact info on there. If you have any questions about, you know, what it is that we do, and if we can help you, we you know, more than happy to answer any questions that you have

Jay Conner (32:21): For our folks that are listening on our, on the podcast, you may be on Google play or iTunes. Let me spell that website out for you. So it’s www.DealsChasingYou.com, And to get that checklist, is add a /Conner, Is that right, Max?

Max Keller (32:50): That’s correct.

Jay Conner (32:51): So again, let’s put that site up. www.DealsChasingYou.com/Conner, Are there any other ways that a real estate investor can use this book to grow their business?

Max Keller (33:12): Yeah, absolutely. So, you know, I had mentioned earlier about how, you know, this turned into a huge referral tool, you know, for me, it was just easy for people to, you know, connect me to other folks and kind of pass my book around. You know, and another one that’s really, really sort of like a little secret that people know who write books is speaking engagements. So there’s groups of people that are over, you know, your ideal prospect, whether it’s private money lenders or motivated sellers. And and they’re always looking for people to speak, whether it’s virtual or live. And so shortly after I published my first book, I had a church, a local church reach out to me. They had gotten the book from one of their congregation and said, Hey, we got a copy of your book. Would you be interested in speaking at our church?

Max Keller (34:02): And I didn’t. I said, sure. You know, and I didn’t have, you know, presentation, I didn’t have PowerPoint slides or anything. I basically, it was kind of a last minute thing. I just showed up to the church. I had a box of my books and I made sure that everybody got one and I just, you know, basically held up, I got a copy of my book right here. I just held up my book and I just taught out of it. And I taught what I knew. And it was awesome, because the folks were super engaged, you know, they’re just like leaning forward in their seat. And afterwards they came up and told me how much they really appreciated me. And they asked about my services specifically and actually booked a couple appointments that night to go look at houses, which was awesome.

Max Keller (34:45): And, and so, you know, I was really, really blown away that I had given them something that they really wanted and, you know, it was just a small local church, you know, but to me it felt like, you know, I headlined a big stage. I mean, I really wanted to do it again. And so, like I was saying event organizers, you know, they’re always looking for people to speak and being a subject matter expert, being an author makes it really, really easy for them to pick you. You know, I remember one time the organizer asked me what my fee was? And I was like, stuttering, I didn’t even know what to say. I was totally unexpected. And I was like a zero. And they’re like, Oh, okay, well, that’s great. You know, cause we had a budget for a certain amount and I was like, Hey, wait a second thinking about it.

Max Keller (35:29): I mean, honestly I would pay to speak there. You know what I mean? Like when you get a recommendation from the pastor of the church saying, you know, Max is the author, Max is coming to teach about housing. Everybody needs to show up. I had one church that printed out 2000 like flyers and put it in their church bulletin full color 2000 2 weeks in a row. And I didn’t pay for any of that. So that’s a really big deal. And then the other thing is it’s kind of interesting as celebrity, you know, I didn’t write this book to be a celebrity. I’m happy just being a home buyer. And I buy houses here in Fort worth and Dallas. And now I have a group of students that plug into our licensed content, but I didn’t do any of this to become a celebrity, but it’s just sort of part of it.

Max Keller (36:24): When you write a book, people look at you like the other people they know who have written books, like, you know, Dave Ramsey, or like you said, Robert Kiyosaki, I got to meet, you know, recently and you know, Barbara Corcoran and Oprah. I mean, these folks all have books and it is no secret that being a celebrity or being seen as a celebrity, even local celebrity has a lot of power behind it. And folks trust you more. They, they look at you more as the doctor prescribing them the medicine instead of just a salesperson. And so I get folks all the time that asks for a copy of my autograph and they get all excited and I still sort of like bewildered and I just never get used to it. And I say, okay, well, here’s what we’ll do. As soon as you sign the contract over there, you give me your autograph, then I’ll give you my autograph. And we all kind of have a little laugh. So it’s been a really it’s been a really fun journey and it’s been a really different way to buy houses and raise more money for my deals.

Jay Conner (37:26): Well, there you have it folks. I know you’re interested in learning about how to have your own book for your own credibility, for your own story. And you can get the checklist on how to do that yourself, or you can plug into Max and get it done for you. So that website one more time folks is www.DealsChasingYou.com/Conner, Max it’s been fantastic having you on the show, parting comments before we wrap it up.

Max Keller (38:01): Yeah. Just commend everybody for listening to you. You know, you run a really great program and I, you know, I’ve got some time to, we gotten to spend some time together and see your operation and it’s, first-class all the way. So I just commend everybody listening to keep focusing on their education and look forward to checking back in with you in the future and, you know, give you any sort of updates.

Jay Conner (38:25): That’s awesome. Thank you so much, Max. There, you have it folks. Another episode of Real Estate Investing with Jay Conner. I’m Jay Conner, the Private Money Authority wishing you all the best. Here’s to taking your real estate investing business to the next level. And we’ll see you on the next show.