#this has been brewing in my head for like 2 years but most characters do not have a concrete visual in my head

[trashmoutth]

When I see you again (Fred Weasley x Reader)

PARTS 1. 2. female!reader, Gryffindor!reader Summary: It takes place during the Second Wizarding War, months after Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Reader is on the run after her family has been caught by the Snatchers. Loosely following cannon. Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader (mentioned) Characters: Dean Thomas, Fred Weasley (mentioned),George Weasley (mentioned), Ted Tonks (mentioned), Dirk Cresswell (mentioned) Warnings: war, mentions of death, angst, swearing, english is not my first language so there might be grammatical mistakes, capital letters, etc.

—

During the next couple of days there was a strange feeling of excitement in the air. For the first time in a while, you felt like there was something to hope for, like you had a goal. The sudden burst of adrenaline in your veins had you wandering around this old house of yours all day and all night. It was driving Dean crazy, but you didn’t care. He showed you how to replay old PotterWatch recordings, so you had them playing in the background through the day while searching through your grandma’s old books in hopes of finding something helpful.

Dean was being as supportive as he could’ve been, considering he was also aching to get in touch with his parents and sisters, however, he was reluctant to get his hopes up. You didn’t have the same problem. It wasn’t a choice for you.

“I’d tell her that her family is alive and well and desperate for news of her whereabouts. As are quite frankly, all of us here at the PotterWatch”.

When you weren’t replaying the recording, you were replaying those words in your head.

You had to find a way.

There was another resident in the house who didn’t seem to be too keen on contacting the wizarding world. A goblin named Ricbert. He was badly injured and spent most of the time resting. You couldn’t blame him for not wanting to risk exposure, not after Dean has told you everything they had to go through to get to a safe house. They were travelling with Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell and another goblin named Gornuk. They crossed miles and miles being actively hunted by the Snatchers and Death Eaters. Gornuk has split himself while apparating in a hurry and got captured. Dirk went after him while urging the others to run away, but Ted Tonks would not leave anyone behind. Unfortunately, that resulted in Dean and Ricbert having to fend for themselves.

Listening to that story made you shiver. But if anything, it made you even more determined to stop running and hiding. It wasn’t even just about seeing your family and friends again. It wasn’t just about Fred either. People were fighting for their lives! You couldn’t stay put! You had to do something!

When you weren’t practicing defensive spells, you spent your time obsessively collecting herbs and brewing healing remedies for Ricbert. It made you feel a bit better, being useful to someone. You were trying out all kinds of recipes you thought might come in handy.

You made a batch of Polyjuice Potion, Cure for boils, Antidote to Common Poisons, Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. You even tried to make Felix Felicis, but the ingredients for it were way too hard to find even in regular circumstances.

You were brewing so much that Dean eventually had to take you by the hand and force you to sit down and take a break.

“If Snape could see me now!”, you said with a tired smile.

Dean chuckled.

“He’d probably put you in detention for working too hard”.

“Ah, yes! Did you know he actually did do that to me once?”

“What, really?”

“Yeah… I wrote an essay in my third year that was accidentally a little too good. He accused me of using a magical quill and put me in detention”, you rolled your eyes.

“Blimey, what a git!”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ve never tried to work too hard on my homework again!”, you laughed.

It was nice talking to Dean, the two of you became fast friends during your stay in the house. You gave each other space through the day, but in the evenings, you would sit down and enjoy each other’s company. Just like you were back in the Gryffindor common room, chatting about muggle films and sports. You found your grandparents’ stash of Firewhiskey and Nettlewine, so you’d light the fireplace and open a bottle. Ricbert also joined you on occasion.

You tried not to talk too much about PotterWatch, even though that was all you wanted to talk about, and tried avoiding mentioning Fred and George’s name completely. At least until you’ve figured out the way to find them. On the first night, you and Dean went through all the options of how to get in touch with someone from your world. Floo powder was out of question. So was sending and owl, obviously. Most importantly, even if you did find a way to send anyone a message, you wouldn’t know where to send it. Apparating to any location was an unnecessary risk, especially now that you seemed to be perfectly safe and sound for the first time in months. Not to mention the fact that you didn’t want to put Ricbert in danger just because, as he so delicately put one evening,

“You heard your boyfriend mention your name on a radio two weeks ago”.

The word “boyfriend” stupidly made your heart flutter. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, true, but you didn’t correct him. Dean didn’t question it either at the time. However, that evening, after a few glasses of Nettlewine, his curiosity got the best of him.

“So…”, he started, “You and Weasley, eh?”

“Huh?”

“You and Fred Weasley? You’re like… an item, right?”

“What makes you say that?”, you feigned surprise.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked at you.

“Oh, please!”

“No! We are just friends”, you tried to protest, but a small smile escaped your lips and betrayed you.

“Sure you are!”, Dean chuckled, “I also fall asleep every night while listening to recordings of my friend’s voices on the radio”.

“Well maybe you should, it’s very calming”, you teased.

“Besides”, you continued, “How do you know it’s not Georgie I’m listening for?”

“Oh”, he laughed, “You’re right, my apologies”.

“Why do you think they call him Tentacula?”.

He snorted and threw a pillow at you.

“Don’t put images in my head!”

“Well, you’re the one who started this conversation!”, you threw the pillow back at him.

He groaned.

“I was just being nosy, I didn’t want the details!”

“Curiosity killed the hippogriff!”

“Also…”, Dean continued, “Ginny mentioned something to me back when we were dating…”

Your heart jumped in your chest.

“About what?”, you asked as calmly as possible.

“You know… about you and Weasley… Fred, I mean”.

“What did she say?”

Dean looked at you sternly as if what he was about to say is very serious indeed, but then his face stretched into a wide grin, and he burst out laughing.

“Nothing! I just wanted to see your reaction!”

You groaned.

“Oi, Thomas, that was really low!”

“Sorry, better work on your poker face Y/LN!”, he teased you.

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like it matters anyway. I mean… who knows if I’ll ever see him again”, your voice suddenly turned sad.

Dean’s expression softened.

“You’ll see him”, he said.

You looked at him with teary eyes and gently smiled with gratitude.

“You think so?”, you asked quietly, before you could stop yourself.

“Yes”, he replied, “We’ll find a way. But then you have to do it”.

“Do what?”

“Shoot your shot”, he said and threw a pillow at you again.

...

You’ve spent the next couple of days trying to figure out how to bring up your newest plan of sending a message to Fred and George. It seemed like a good plan; the only problem was the fact that you had no idea how to execute it.

“Dean…”, you started one afternoon.

“Yes?”, he asked.

“I’ve figured it out”, you said slowly.

“You have?”, he jumped in excitement.

“Yes… sort of”.

“What does that mean?”

“Well…”, you started, “There might be a way to send someone a message without having to know exactly where they are, I think… but it requires a really powerful witch or wizard to do so”.

“I’m not worried about that part!”, he winked at you.

You laughed bitterly.

“I don’t know, mate. I’ve never been able to do it before… that’s why I didn’t bring it up until now”.

“What is it?”, his voice suddenly got a bit more serious.

You took a deep breath.

“The thing is… you can send someone a message using the Patronus charm”.

“You can?”, he asked in a surprise.

“Yes”, you replied, “I’ve seen it”.

The image of a silver, gleaming lynx with a voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly entered your mind.

“Well, that’s… good news, right?”, Dean asked.

You sighed.

“Yes… and no”.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’ve never been able to produce a corporal Patronus before… and even if I did it, I have no idea how to get it to send someone a message!”, you said, with slight frustration in your voice.

“Oh…”, Dean said.

“Can you produce it?”

He shook his head.

“No… never been able to”.

“Well… that’s why I didn’t say anything until now… but it seems like it might be the only option we have left”.

He looked at you in disbelief.

“What kind of option is that? We’d have to become able to produce a corporal Patronus, and then we’d also have to somehow figure out a way to make it reach someone else for us… it would take us weeks, months, maybe even years!”

“You have somewhere to be?”, you asked sarcastically.

He sighed.

“No…”

“Well, then… unless you can come up with a better plan, I suggest you roll up your sleeves and start practicing the charm!”, you said in a tone of voice that reminded you a bit of Professor McGonagall.

A similar thought has clearly crossed Dean’s mind, because he smirked at you and said,

“Yes, professor!”

You softened your expression and smiled at him.

The following couple of days were spent by your useless attempts to preform the Patronus charm. When you weren’t whispering, mumbling, or screaming:

“Expecto Patronum!”

you were cooped up in your room, reading your grandmas old books, trying to find anything at all about the Patronus charm. It was hopeless.

To be fair, you managed to produce a glowing, silver shield that danced around the room, but there was no sign of fur, tail, claws, hooves, or anything like that. It was driving you mad, which, obviously, wasn’t helpful while trying to focus on your happiest memories.

One evening, as you were lying in your bed and rewinding old recordings of PotterWatch, a shocking realisation suddenly hit you.

Of course you would not be able to create a Patronus, you didn’t have a memory that was strong enough! All your happiest thoughts were somehow tainted by the fact that you were here, locked inside a safe house, completely isolated from the people that you loved the most. But if you could do it… If you could be strong enough to perform the spell…

You didn’t have a happiest memory because all of them were set in the future! And you held the power to make them into reality!

It was a paradoxical thought, but the realisation made your heart fill up with hope, and perhaps, that could be enough to summon a Patronus!

You jumped out of the bed, in a sudden rush of adrenaline, and raised your wand.

You closed your eyes.

What would make you happy? What is the happiest thing you can think of at this very moment?

An image of your parents glimmered in your mind. They were smiling at you while embracing you into a tight hug.

Then another image appeared. Your friends! George Weasley gifting you one of his infectious smiles and congratulating you on a spell well-done! Lee Jordan, shaking your hand and kissing your cheeks.

A small grin appeared on your lips.

It was working!

Then, you saw his face. Fred.

His flaming red locks and glistening eyes. He reached his hands towards you and pulled you in his arms. You knew his scent all too well. He smelled of cinnamon and fireworks. He didn’t say anything to you, and you didn’t say anything to him. You just stood there, embracing. No words were needed.

You felt your heart swell up as happy tears started to fill your eyes. You took a deep breath.

You were almost there!

You raised your wand higher and pictured yourself as exactly the person you wanted to be in this very moment. You were strong enough to summon a Patronus. You were clever enough to reach your friends. You were brave enough to protect Ricbert and Dean. You could do it! You just had to believe in it!

“Excpecto Patronum”, you whispered.

A beam of silver light shot out of your wand. It seemed to be forming into a shape.

Was that a claw? Or maybe antlers?

The beautiful silver light blazing from your wand gave you more confidence, so you repeated, this time more loudly and more clearly,

“Excpecto Patronum!”

This time the light started to form into a shape a lot more distinctively. You watched in an awe as you tried to figure out what animal in reminded you of, still focusing hard on your happy thoughts.

The silver light fell apart once again, but you didn’t get discouraged. You were certain this time you’d do it. You took a deep breath and pictured Fred’s smiling face. His eyes. His voice. His laughter… You’ll see him again! You will! You were so close…

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”, you yelled out.

The light shooting out of your wand was almost blinding this time. You squinted as you watched it prance around the room, forming into a shape of a beautiful, silvery creature. After it made a circle around the room it stopped right in front of you, looking at you with its intelligent, glowing eyes. You gasped in awe and reached for it to touch it. You recognized it instantly.

It was a (your Patronus).

You did it!

The realisation made a surge of euphoric sensation shoot through your body.

You fucking did it!

You started laughing. You wanted to call for Dean, but you were worried the animal would disappear if you did that. So, instead, you just stood there, trying to get your brain to start working again. As soon as it did, another thought has crossed your mind.

What now?

That’s right! Summoning a Patronus was only a part of the problem. As happy as you were to have succeeded, you still didn’t know how to fulfil the other part.

What if I just… ask?

it was a silly thought. And yet…

It couldn’t hurt!

You struggled for a moment to find your voice. Your Patronus was still looking at you. It seemed like it already knew what you were about to do.

“Can you… help me?”, you heard yourself say stupidly.

The Patronus blinked.

“I need to send a message… to Fred Weasley. He’s… my best friend. Perhaps you already know that…?”

The animal didn’t move or react in any way that would make it seem like it understood you. You groaned in frustration.

“Well, it was worth a shot”, you mumbled.

The frustration in your voice made the Patronus start to slowly fade out. It made you panic for a moment, but then you let it go.

If you could summon it once, you can do it again!

However, the Patronus didn’t disappear, you realized a second later. Instead, it turned itself into a tiny, floating ball of light that began slowly approaching you. Just when you thought it was about to stop, it went straight inside your neck and nested itself at the bottom of your throat.

“What the…”, you spoke in a surprise.

And then you froze in shock. You could hear your own voice, just like it was magically enhanced by Sonorous. However, you had a strange feeling that if anyone else was around you, they would only see you open your mouth and silently move it like a fish.

“Did I… do it?”, you asked.

You were still hearing your own voice inside your head. That must be it! It must be working!

“Fred…”, you started, “If you can hear me… if this reaches you somehow… I’m safe. I’m in a safe location. I can’t tell you exactly where it is, it’s heavily protected…”.

You thought for a moment about what you should and shouldn’t say. You didn’t want to compromise anyone’s safety if this message was heard by someone else.

“If you can reach my parents, would you tell them I’m okay?”, you asked.

There were so many things that you dreamt about saying to him if you got the chance, and now… it felt like there was nothing on your mind.

“Oh, I’m with Dean Thomas!”, you remembered suddenly, “He’s safe too… we’re with a goblin named Ricbert… Fred…”.

You took a deep breath.

“If you can… try to find me… please”.

Just when you started thinking about how silly that sounded, the ball of light nested in your throat flew out. It reached the middle of the room and slowly transformed back into its corporal form. The beautiful, shimmering animal stood before you once again, only this time there was a little ball of light flickering in its neck. You realised, in amazement, that that was your voice.

“Find Fred Weasley… please”, you said pleadingly.

The Patronus blinked at you once again, like it perfectly understood the assignment you just gave it, and slowly began to fade out.

For a second or two you did not move. You were still a bit unsure that what you just saw really happened. You wanted to call Dean and tell him all about it, but before you could do that, you felt yourself slowly sinking into bed. You were exhausted.

You didn’t know for sure how long you slept. Was it five hours or five minutes. You only knew that in one moment your eyes were shut and you were sleeping, and in another something in the room has made you groan out in frustration.

Did somebody turn on the light?

“Turn… it… off…”, you mumbled as you tried to cover your closed eyes with a pillow.

But it felt like the light was burning through the pillowcase. You threw the pillow away and sat up straight, like someone had just pinched you.

Your eyes widened in shock. Something was in the room with you. Through the haze of sleepiness, it looked like another glowing ball of light, only this ball was a lot larger than the one you had summoned. It made a few circles around the room before it finally settled and landed at the top of the pillow you just threw away. It was a bird. A magpie. A glowing, silvery magpie! It was spreading its shimmering wings and looking at you like it wanted your undivided attention.

Another Patronus, you realised.

Your mouth had gone dry from suspense. Then, the bird opened its silver beak and spoke in the voice of Fred Weasley,

“Y/N? Is that really you?”

Your heart stopped.

—

[trashbinbackyard]

1-20 mhairi & ihn + whichever armed asshats pair you want

Let me put your anxieties at ease, this is my preferred way of getting these prompts, one shared pair and one i get to pick bc there’s blorbos brewing in my head

You get academic old man yaoi with Osman and Konstantin

1. What were their first impressions of one another?

I think they met for the first time when they were still starting out. Ihn has always respected Mhairi, and they’ve had a friendly rivalry going on. For many years he wasn’t romantically interested and everything was strictly professional/platonic. He would be lying if he said Mhairi wasn’t a looker tho

They met each other the first time in the academy d’Arcane when Osman was visiting a class and they sat next to each other, they were in their late 20’s. Osman thought Konstantin was intense and Konstantin thought Osman was too loud.

2 .What was their first date like? If they haven’t been on a date yet, how would it go? 

They were old and in a situation of a century ago agreeing to go on a date if they were single still and welp, widowed and tragically broken up with is one way to get there. So they picked a bar, went for drinks and then things might’ve gotten spicy

It was a study date in a cafe which also was the unofficial gathering place of all the city’s cats (the basis for Nia Vasileos in Istanbul so). They bonded over love of coffee, pastries and magic

3. It’s late at night and your characters want food, what do they order/find in the fridge? 

I bet Mhairi has all kinds of fancy stuff like fresh exotic fruits, nuts and the like, i get more ingredient house vibes from her than snack house, and also they’re both loaded so minimal cooking is done. She could also just call up some food. Ihn would rummage through the cabinets and curse not having any snacks handy so almonds it is, or call up some food.

Konstantin is a pretty picky eater, Osman not so much. Konstantin is also the type of guy to prepare meals so if Osman is hungry, one day’s meal might go missing. But they also keep a lot fruits in the house to satisfy most hunger pangs, and also bread

4. What’s a typical Sunday like for them? 

Ihn’s long retired so he does fuck all, naps thruout the day, reads, watches the news etc., grandpa activities Mhairi is welcome to join. He also likes following Mhairi around when she’s doing her thing, sorting out her stuff. Sunday is a lazy day

They’re both insanely busy, Osman serves the palace and the crescent university, and has his own pet projects, so Sunday’s for him is working on his own things like painting and drawing. Konstantin needs to check in on the academy every day but on Sundays he’s like “if something is not on fire right it can wait a day, and if something is on fire you have a building full of mages, figure something out”. So he’s at home chilling with Osman, makes them both afternoon coffee and reads in the same room Osman is painting in.

5. What’s their love language like? Are they compatible with one another? 

Quality time, acts of service for Ihn, third would be physical touch, he knows how the nedians get with touch.

Osman is loud and touchy, Konstantin is more reserved but he also likes physical affection, just somewhere no one can see. Quality time together too, what’s better than two academics having dinner

6. Do they have any pet names/nicknames for eachother? 

“Old [insert thing here]” but like, in a loving way

My beloved, love, etc in their native tongues, (haven’t come up with the regions they’re from but Konstantin is greek-ish and Osman would be arabic)

7. What do they argue about? 

I think their arguments have mostly been about how to handle something

Their most common argument is how the other doesn’t make enough time for the other

8. Who does what chores, and why? 

Hoooousekeeping

Konstantin cooks more, both clean up after each other, Osman handles fixing things and buying necessities

9. What’s the most difficult thing they’ve been through together? 

Ihn being widowed, losing his son and daughter-in-law, losing his granddaughter in a very short span of time. Mhairi’s dealings with Xiulan and the catastrophic end to that, they were always each other’s shoulder to cry on.

Dunno yet

10. How do they make up after a fight? 

Talk it through once calmed down, work together for a solution to whatever they were fighting about, kiss and make up

Osman writes an apology monologue worthy of awards and Konstantin will get Osman his favorite baklava

11. Who causes the most arguments? 

I think pretty equally, both can get really stubborn

Osman can be a little inconsiderate, but not maliciously, he’s just gets so excited about stuff he might forget to consult Konstantin

12. What would they say each other’s worst quality is? 

The other being stubborn, stuck in their way, Ihn has a bad habit of not taking things seriously until it blows up on his face, Ihn thinks Mhairi miiiight take a little too much joy out of putting people down but hey, captains gotta captain

Osman has his head in the clouds, and sometimes forgets to focus on things that matter more. Konstantin is 

13. What would they say each other’s best quality is? 

Ihn’s always loved Mhairi’s wit, and ambition

Osman is endlessly curious and creative. Konstantin is extremely loyal and intelligent (well they both are)

14. How would they describe one another if asked? 

It would be really hard to get Ihn to describe Mhairi in a genuine manner, but under all those layers of sarcasm, he thinks really highly of them, Mhairi is intelligent in both knowledge and socially, ambitious, ready to do everything to get what she wants, looks out for those who really matter to her. They’ve known each other for so long 

They both would say the other is the smartest man in Nia Vasileos. A big “no you” “no u” type of argument would ensue

15. What names are they saved as on each other’s phone? 

Ihn has Mhairi marked down as “ball and chain” ironically, he switches it sometimes to other weapons/guns

No phones, but both would refer to the other by their name

16. What would they consider quality time? 

Good food, good drinks, great backdrop, reminiscing about all their greatest heists.

17. Who decides which movies to watch? 

They insult each other into submission: “Oh you wanna watch *war movie*? what are you 900 years old?” / “very rich coming from the guy who wants to watch troy, you just wanna see 200 bare chested men”

They take turn on deciding which theater show to go see, their tastes are very similar

18. How are they like on a road trip together? 

Whenever they take an interplanetary trip, Ihn insists on being the pilot, that’s his bread and butter. Mhairi arranges the places they’ll be staying at

Long carriage/boat rides would be mostly spent napping and reading by them both

19. It’s raining, did either of your OCs bring an umbrella? If so, who, and do they share it? 

Mhairi has a large coat, she could hoist up in case of sudden rain. They both come prepared for the weather though most of the time, just one thing less to worry about, and you don’t get to rule a space pirate empire without knowing how to prepare.

Konstantin can just move the rain away from them, a trick Osman is trying to learn

20. What are they like when sharing a bed?

Ihn is way smaller, so little spoon, also he snores so he can’t be trusted to sleep on his back, also his back hurts most of the time, and his leg. Mhairi has similar ailments so I think there will be a lot pillows involved to prop things into the right angle 

Konstantin sleeps like carcass, on his back, unmoving. Osman wraps around him and Konstantin leans his head in to kiss him goodnight

[pipperoni32-blog]

The Winners (Beartown #3)

By Fredrik Backman  /  5 stars

This one has definitely been a long time coming for me. I love Fredrik Backman in general, though I have a special love for his Beartown books. Not that that’s always a popular opinion - they are by far his saddest and most serious books. They contain a lot of the same core values that his other books have, but the things that happen in Beartown force you to take a look at what you’re morally willing to accept, and how very much it can take to do the right thing. 

I half read, half listened to this book. I’ve loved Marin Ireland since I first listened to her doing Beartown, and I’m happy to see that she’s continued with this series as well as Anxious People. Her interpretations of the characters, the accents, and the pacing of her reading does so much to draw you into the world of the story. 

In Fredrik’s (is it odd that I refer to him by first name? His books are such favorites of mind that he feels like a close friend by now) usual way, he doesn’t hold back. He tells us from the very first chapter that one of our (at least one of mine) favorite characters is going to die. That he won’t get a chance to get a long life, but die violently. That should ease the tension, right? Thanks for the heads up, now we can prepare ourselves for that. There’s no preparing yourself for what’s going to happen. No hardening your heart so that it doesn’t still tear you apart when the moment comes. 

It’s been 2 and a half years since the first book, two years since both Maya and Benji left Beartown. Now, they both find themselves on their way back to attend a funeral. Things in Beartown may be the same in some ways, but there have also been big changes. Now, Beartown is the one with the winning hockey club and the council’s money. They’re thriving, and talks of upcoming expansions are one of the worst kept secrets. 

A storm hits, the night before the death that brings everyone back. One of the worst the forest has seen in awhile. The storm’s impact and the wreckage left behind will only be one step in the trouble brewing for the town. 

A journalist seeks to reveal the corruption in the accounts for Beartown’s hockey club, and the blame seems to always lead back to one man. Tension between Hed and Beartown rises when Hed’s rink is destroyed by the storm, forcing their teams to have to practice at Beartown’s rink. Resentment builds in a young heart. Can the community come together to save the things it’s always known? Or will the ruin be too great this time? 

As much as I want to shout to the hills about this book, I find myself approaching it cautiously. Fredrik has never been afraid to approach tough subjects, not just events that happens, but the aftermaths of them as well. How do we view these? Have they become normal? Can we really accept that - should we? What could we have done to change the outcome? How could we have been better? 

And the foreshadowing. You’d think as the final event draws near, the one everything has been building toward, it would be easier. We had time to prepare ourselves for this. It’s not going to be a surprise. We’ll have the benefit of seeing it coming. But each reminder, each mention that this is the last time, the last chance we get to see our people truly happy, breaks you that little bit more. When it happens, you fall just as hard. 

Because of this, while I loved the book - even as I sobbed, my heart twisting until my lungs wouldn’t work properly anymore - there are a few friends that I want to keep from reading it. I saw how hard Beartown hit them. How they couldn’t make it through Us Against You, couldn’t protect themselves from the hatred the victims faced, the mistakes the community made. The Winners is not easier - it’s the hardest of them all to handle. This book will destroy you. Not that everything is doom and gloom - the good times, when we can laugh and heal. When friendships shine with such strength, and love seems stronger than anything. These are just as powerful, the heart of a story that already has a heart too big. 

This one will sit with me for awhile. And though I only finished it a few days ago, already I have plans to start Beartown over again the first of next year. It seems fitting to start the year off with a momentous book, one that resonates just as hard with each re-reading. 

[gegeenthusiast]

This has been brewing in my mind for the past like 5+ years, evolving and changing in the back of my head, but I think recently I finally found a way to express it...

The depiction of disability in a lot of media bothers me so much, and sometimes I see shades of it in this site too. The way that tools to aid physical disability, especially, are appreciated if they are 1) technologically advanced, be it a lot of moving mechanical pieces or with machinery, or 2) aesthetically pleasing, to the level of impractical showpieces. I do find both of them extremely cool-- that is, on a technical and aesthetic level. But this almost “veneration” for “cool ways to “”””counter”””” disability”, ie. “your disabled character should be cool to ‘offset’ their disability”, just feels like worms in my throat.

Let’s take adventure stories. You can have magic to make the fanciest of designs work, yes, but sometimes I feel like that’s another way to kind of bypass the actual uh, disability? Not in the sense that disabled people wouldn’t want to OR cannot want to fully recover a lost limb or regain full mobility, but that it’s the only way you can “rise above” your disability. Fully regaining the lost functionalities of your body. Be above it all.

But living with disability doesn’t mean that you’re somehow living a “lesser” life if you’re not equipped with state of the art myoelectric prosthetic limb; a lot of people without access to these more advanced prostheses live and are not languishing staring out the window longing for the sun or whatever. They have to find another way, yes, to accommodate their limitations. And that’s normal. What a grandma with a bad back can do is naturally different from what a 10 years old can do; that’s why grandmas make us put the thread through the needle eye. But we, hopefully, don’t see that as a lesser mode of living. They find workarounds, be it making use of otherwise useless tween grandchildren, or using that diamond shaped thingy. They won’t do it as fast as a 24 yo with normal eyesight but that’s a given.

And in that same way, I wish more authors actually write with their disabled characters in mind-- especially if said disabled character is part of the main cast. It’s not impossible to write a physically disabled character as part of an adventure novel cast, I promise. But you as the author, and by extension your other main characters, have to accommodate for them, too. Most of the time their limitations are something workable. Blind characters aren’t helpless, they don’t need to be superpowered to be a part of a mobile team either. I’ve read about this one team in the Philippines going on a hike up a mountain with visually-impaired youths. I was looking for a similar story specifically to write a blind character of mine, who, given the setting is ancient China, would have to navigate mountainous terrain. And from the blog post:

Unlike city sidewalks where you can predict the each step, in the mountains, every step is different: the terrain, the incline, and the many obstacles. But Jerald proved to be very intuitive in adjusting to the different kinds of trail we walked through, and as we went higher, I needed fewer words to guide him, allowing us to talk about other things.

[...]

Once, when we were resting on the trail, young Stephen correctly identified how many of us were there; and Jerald himself was very sensitive in detecting the subtle changes in the trail and in the weather. Having focused on our sense of sight, I guess we have not learned to develop our other senses to their fullest potential.

[..]

[...]  and in the end we took just the same time it would have taken had we been guiding sighted hikers.

Any writer who can actually write and are dedicated to having their disabled character treated properly would be able to acknowledge the limitations and challenges the disability would impose, yet also figure out realistic workarounds. They don’t need to be able to run up and down a mountain without tripping to deserve a place in the team. Fuck, sighted people fucking trip all the goddamn time. Sighted people can have godawful balance and suck at hiking. They don’t need to be cool and “above it all” just to offset their blindness.

This need to make the character be “above the limitations of their disabilities” can also manifest in like, hyperadvanced prosthesis. Listen man, I’m a biomedical engineering major, I understand, possibly more than you do, how exciting it can be. Each and every advancement in the field both furthers the field of engineering and that of human body and medicine. HOWEVER. Something I realize over the years is that a lot of these cutting edge science... are not actually very useful to disabled people, and are unlikely to be for at least a decade or five.

Take, for example, myoelectric prostheses. I’ll be real with you: I love this field. It was actually the reason why I majored in biomedical engineering, and I’ve been thinking about going there since 8th grade. My thesis was focused on the electrode part of the prosthesis. But the goddamn thing is $18,703 for a hand. Up to the shoulder, it’s $100,000. That cost is unlikely to go down much in the coming years. This isn’t even accounting for possible surgery costs, because of course the most cutting-edge version would require surgery that moves your fucking arm nerves to your torso to make the prosthesis move to “thought”. This isn’t even accounting for maintenance, which would require engineers with very specific skillset, probably, and would only be available in big city centers no doubt. There might only be 1-2 centers in ENTIRE COUNTRIES, if any. Did I mention that the thing is heavy in an unnatural way, and the attachment to the stump can hurt after prolonged use?

I wish I still remember the link, but I’m reminded of an article I read somewhere back during my college days. It talks about this old man who lost part of his arm, below the elbow. He operated farm machinery as part of his daily life, and in the end the arm prosthesis he chose isn’t anything with “a hand shape at the end” of it-- it was something like a hook, I think, to interact with the machinery he uses. It requires no complex structure or body that demands high maintenance, nor does it need a specialized engineer to do so. It enables him to live his life as previous. Did his life change from the loss? Of course it does. Loss is loss-- it’s something he can’t get back. But managing lifelong disability, much like any other chronic illness, is less about becoming “perfectly whole again” and more about restoring day-to-day functional capability.

And circling back to the media depiction, because I’m incredibly disorganized-- it bothers me when disabilities are used to either: 1) highlight a character’s “soft/intellectual power”, as in using the physical frailty or disability to further accentuate the power of their mind, or 2) treating the disability as though it doesn’t exist at all functionally (blind characters navigating new locations perfectly, straight up forgetting they’re disabled sometimes, I SEE YOU AUTHORS DOING THIS), or 3) cool points. I will attack you on the streets if you do this, btw.

At the end of the day, all three ways of depicting disability is incredibly... dehumanizing. So many of us are fine with fictionally navigating the limitations of people with mental illnesses, or personalities like being prideful, having addictions, etc, and yet so few would spend the 5 minutes to think, “how is my blind character going to yanno, travel though the goddamn mountains in my wuxia?”

And that fucking bothers me.

[ahiddenpath]

Writing News

Workin’ on stuff!  More beneath the cut!

Puits d’Amour has four more prepared updates remaining, including the one that will drop this weekend.  I have been toying with the idea of expanding Koushiro and Eimi’s initial arc, so this may change, but that is where things are as I type this.

Basically, we are shifting from the intro part of the story to the meat of it, which is Yamato encountering people at the cafe and getting involved with their problems, lol.  I currently have a mini arc planned for Eimi/Koushiro, Daisuke/Ken/Osamu, Jyou/Hikari/Taichi/Mimi, and Yamato/Takeru/Osamu (that last one is a bit different, as it’s sort of ongoing the whole time, rather than its own little chonk).  I have more characters whom I could so something with, but for now, I know those things are happening.

I think I was trying to really get in and out with Eimi/Koushiro (like two updates) because of the OC thing.  I also want the main characters to be Yamato and Sora, but of course, they’re present and engaged the whole time, and it’s mostly told through their eyes, although we do get scenes from the POV of other characters.

I am planning to quietly continue the Four Years edits on off weeks between PdA updates.

I surprised myself by dusting off Tri: Integrity Lens recently!  I’d really like to get back in there and at least finish up to where Mimi’s bit kind of shifts to Jyou’s bit of Ketsui.  I’m adding some really cool original/imagined happenings soon, so I really want to continue that.  Right now, this is just something I pick away at when I get the itch.  

Right now, a lot of my time is going towards art for PdA and my Odaiba Day project.  This year, I’m writing a oneshot starring Yamato and Takeru, focusing on their brotherhood as adults and their shared coping mechanisms.  It’s possible that I might have to drop one of my other projects temporarily to focus on this, but for now, I have about 2,000 words of what I hope will be a 5-8k oneshot, and I have more than a month left, so I might be able to manage everything.  We’ll see how it goes, lol!

Additionally, I have a secret project brewing for my 10 year anniversary of posting fics as ahiddenpath!  GUWY will be 10 years old on September 30th, 2022.  

I haven’t decided what I will work on when I run out of prepared PdA content.  Most likely, I will either hold a mini personal nanowrimo (1,000 words per day for a month) for... something.  It could be PdA, it could be TIL, or I might work on my upcoming secret project (I think that would give me about 2 months to get a head start on that).  We’ll see!  Even if I stop working on something I can routinely update and share, I will continue dropping those FY edits, so I won’t be entirely absent, lol!  And as always, I’ll be here, reblogging cool stuff and chilling in the camp digimonth server.

I hope you’re all doing well!  Big kiss, mwah!

[lexiwritesstuff]

DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS ANYWHERE, reblogs are ok, report stolen work and notify me if someone has stolen/reposted my works please. anything on this acc has been written by me from 2020-2023, i do not own any characters other than my own oc's.

"Exile."

Story start ☆彡

"C'mon Dream! You can't do this to me, I've done everything you asked! I empty out my pockets every day just so that I don’t die!" Tommy crawls back as Dream stalks towards him, large clunky boots making dents in the sand of the beach, sending small amounts of sand flying up and onto the aforementioned boots and some onto Tommy's clothes.

"Oh Tommy, you ought to know I was going to snap eventually right? You should’ve known that one day it was going to get a little bit too much.” Dream hissed out through clenched teeth.

All of the stunts Tommy had pulled, from trying to hide his special belongings from Dream in a hidden chest, trying to get Dream’s own sister to help him, building his annoying cobblestone “towers”, and just being uncooperative, the thing Dream hated most. He could live with The young blond trying to turn his own sister on him, he could handle the stupid towers, he could deal with the hiding of his valuables. But eventually, he snapped. The already unstable man was going to crumble under the stress at some point.

“You should’ve seen this coming Tommy…” As Dream takes his sword out of its carrier, Tommy feels his heart rate heighten. Tommy needs to make a plan, and fast.

‘I’m not dying today, not to him.’ The young boy’s thinking thousands of thoughts, but this is the most prominent. ‘I will not die to him’ Repeats in Tommy’s head over and over again. He’s determined not to die by the cruel hands of dream, or sword rather.

In this moment Tommy wished he had his older brother Wilbur’s quick thinking skills, or Techno’s strength and strategy skills. He needed to think of a plan and execute it, otherwise he wouldn’t live to tell his story. He wishes he had his best friend to help him, but Tubbo isn’t here, so he’ll have to do this on his own.

“If you want to make it out of this alive, I suggest you start running.” Dream was making quick advances towards Tommy, Making him even more nervous. The younger of the two’s heart thumping against his ribcage, it felt like it was going to burst right through his ribs and onto the ground in front of him.

‘Oh I’ll show you running, Dream.’ Tommy thought to himself. Still anxious, but now determined. He was more determined than he had ever been in his 17 years of life, he was going to do this.

Then, he started running, not worried about where he was going to end up. Running away from the beach, running through grass and trees, nearly hitting a few. He ended up finding an old and abandoned cave, perfect. Tommy started walking into said cave. He could’ve sworn he lost Dream, until he heard footsteps. He quickly dug a small hole with his pickaxe and used what smooth stone he had to patch up the hole. Heart racing, breathing fast, his hands shaking. He’s safe.

Dream eventually leaves the cave having given up. Tommy sees this as his escape. He finds the materials to make an invisibility potion with the brewing station he had in his backpack. He made an 8 minute invisibility potion, he wasn’t too far from home.

“Ok, that’s done, time to go.” Tommy whispered to himself, then packed his bag quickly, running out of the small cave he’s been living in for the past 2 days. He was afraid of Dream catching him and of his stuff being missing from his chests when he got back. He couldn’t even guess what Dream would do, nor does he want to.

Tommy got back to his “house” - more like a tent, but it was home to him - and hurriedly put his valuables in the only place Dream couldn’t get them, his beloved ender chest. He quickly grabbed anything he needed, including the polaroid he had of him, Tubbo, and Ranboo. He smiled to himself.

A thud was heard, then it all went black…

[disco-tea]

Spike’s clothes:

Alright, this has been brewing in the back of my head for a while, so here we go. Buckle up or scroll fast because I don’t know how to put an under the cut button on mobile lmao. Basically, I have a theory about how Spike’s clothes are almost always tied to what’s going on internally/thematically with his character.

So let’s start with the base, the iconic look that defines Spike. [Dark jeans, dark tee-shirt, red button-down, then finally the duster over it.]

This is the outfit he shows up in and the outfit he’ll wear for all of season 2 and his one episode in season 3. He won’t truly deviate from it until season 4, and even then, it (or some variation) will always still serve as his default.

The first time we ever see Spike in anything truly different is in Harsh Light Of Day. And even then, it’s really just in the tee-shirt he wears beneath the jacket/button-down or a somewhat worn long sleeve shirt. He’s going to have a lot of outfits that reflect something going on internally, but I don’t know that this is really one of them, per se. The clothing change here mostly serves at first to throw the audience off so they don’t immediately clock that it’s him (they literally had to put a bag over his head lmao) but also to sorta… turn the defined themes on their head. Spike doesn’t enter Sunnydale in his trademark way. He doesn’t run over the sign and announce his presence, he sorta sneaks in. He’s effectively subverted his motif, just as upon finding the Gem of Amara, he’s going to subvert just about every established trait of vampirism, so it makes sense that he would temporarily subvert his look with his clothes as well. (Plus also, he’s literally doing like, serious hard labor in this episode, so it makes sense he wouldn’t want to mess up his usual clothes.)

The next outfit shift is in Pangs and Something Blue, for the majority of his scenes in these episodes, the duster is gone and we mostly see him wear the red button-down with the tee-shirt. It’s a sorta shedding of layers that continues into Hush (when he loses the red shirt entirely and just has the tee-shirt) and will ultimately come to a head in…

Doomed. This is the first really big outfit shift he has that well and truly reflects what’s happening internally. Spike loses his entire ensemble and is left with an ill-fitting Hawaiian shirt and short pants.

He’s lost the look that so clearly defines him as Spike, which corresponds with the way he feels he’s lost his entire sense of self (and subsequently, his will to live) because of the chip. He’s already lost Drusilla, and now he’s lost the ability to be the persona he’s so carefully constructed over the years. He can’t feed, can’t fight, can’t bite, can’t kill…can’t fight Buffy. However, before the episode is over Spike discovers that he can kill and fight demons, which gives him back a sense of purpose and ultimately leads to him reclaiming his old look before the episode is over. BUT, with a slight variation. At the end of Doomed, instead of his black jeans he’s wearing blue ones, which marks the first time we see the blue motif, which appears most prominently in S7.

Blue usually seems to symbolize that Spike’s character is closer to good or has taken a step towards good. (Except 1977 Spike who’s wearing blue jeans and that totally breaks the mold but shhhhh we’re going to ignore that because the motif is definitely there in S7 and I could probably bullshit my way through analyzing that outfit if I reached hard enough lmao) He’s had a nudge towards redemption, however, for now, the blue jeans (much in the same way his avid declarations that they fight demons for the sake of puppies and Christmas and all things good) are temporary.

After that, he mostly goes back to his usual look, dark jeans, dark shirt, and duster. However, these episodes mark the end of his red button-down being a usual feature of his outfit. It’s not the last time we’ll see the red shirt and he’ll have a few other shirts he wears in its place (a black and purple one…at least) but it’s no longer a permanent fixture to his ensemble.

The final (real) outfit change of season 4 occurs in The Yoko Factor. This one is a disguise, and an entirely performative one at that. Spike is lying…putting on a show. It’s not the last time he’ll use a change in clothes to put on a show/put up a front. Arguably…he’s doing that all the time anyway.

And the final (final) outfit change of S4 happens in a dream sequence in Restless. His outfit there is foreshadowing for Tabula Rasa/Randy Giles, which we’ll get to in a moment.

Next up is season 5. Again, Spike goes through the season in his usual outfit without many major variations, mostly he just rotated a few shirts we’ve already seen. His first big clothing changes are in the flashback sequences in Fool For Love. I’ve been mostly tackling this episodically, but for the sake of organization (and my limited number of pictures allowed) let’s talk about William, William the Bloody/early Spike (Fool For Love), and Randy (Tabula Rasa). All these variations are defined by browns and earthy tones.

Okay, first up is William (far left), much like his personality, his clothes are the lightest out of the 3 and probably the lightest colors the character ever wears in the show, which is likely symbolic of his innocence and good nature at the time. He’s got a white shirt, a blue patterned vest, a colored tie, and finally a tan/cream jacket and pants.

The next time we see the character after this, he is fully in his William the Bloody/Spike phase (middle picture). He still has brown and earthy tones but they are quite a bit darker, much like his entire personality. He has an almost dark blue/not-quite-black striped shirt and a dark brown coat that temporarily serves as one of a few placeholders until he gets his leather duster in 1977.

And finally Randy (far right). I honestly love Randy’s outfit so much, because much like his personality, he feels like a fusion of all of the variations of the character. He has William’s white shirt (and a vest and tie), William the Bloody’s shades of dark brown, and Spike’s white hair. Randy is the character when he’s falling purely back on instinct, when he’s not pretending to be anything or putting up any fronts. He’s snarky, but dorky. He’s so very innocent and optimistic, but jaded in assuming Giles must’ve been a bad father. He’s naturally a fierce fighter, but he’s also…good, not having any desire to hurt anybody and even assumes he must have a soul and regularly fight the forces of darkness and help people. Randy is an amalgam of all the variations of the character.

Alright, now, veering back to season 5, our next outfit change appears in Crush.

Spike is trying to make himself look more put together and presentable. He’s definitely calling on his inner William with the light colors and earthy tones. He’s got a light gray almost white tee shirt, a green button-down, and brownish/green (khakis?). And over it all (a reminder that he’s still Spike) is a black leather jacket, though it is not his traditional duster. What’s fun about this outfit is that it looks different, but it is his clothes. It’s the same configuration of layers and types of clothing…but slightly to the left. (Side note, if we tug on that tread even further, technically Spike’s clothes are essentially the same configuration of layers that William’s 3 piece suits are)

Spike’s clothes in Crush are not quite inverted, but definitely turned on their head. There’s even a variation of the outfit earlier in the episode where he’s wearing a blue button-down between his tee-shirt and jacket (instead of the trademark red)

Unless I’m forgetting something, Spike’s outfit doesn’t really change that much for the rest of the season. The only thing that really changes is the state of his hair. This pattern holds into S6 and the first change is in Once More With Feeling when we briefly see the return of the red shirt. Then the next episode is Tabula Rasa with Randy. After that there aren’t really any substantial changes, just subtle ones. A few different shirts here and there beneath the duster and some jewelry (some of which may or may not have some symbolic meaning). However, he finishes the season sans his duster and without a shirt at all, which makes sense because he’s going through/has begun a process of stripping his persona and self away.

Next is season 7, which marks the longest and most drastic change to Spike’s wardrobe of the entire series. He comes into the season insane and looking somewhat undone, with messy unkept hair, barely put together clothes, and no shoes. Our next big and real clothing change occurs in Beneath You.

Again, we have the blue motif, which not only symbolizes his somewhat ‘cemented’ place on the side of good, but also his new (though currently unrealized) status as a Champion. However, it also serves as an almost direct inversion of his trademark look. Instead of red, we have blue. Instead of loose-fitting multiple layers, we have one layer that’s tight/small enough it doesn’t quite fit. This outfit is another example of Spike using his clothes to put on a show. He’s pretending a lot of things in this episode. He’s pretending he’s not insane. On a not-so-subconscious level, he’s pretending he’s a different, more stable person. And finally, when somebody gets a real glimpse of the change that has occurred, he doubles back and tries to pretend he hasn’t changed at all. But regardless of what he’s pretending, he’s still putting on a show. He even pretty much says so in the midst of his insane ramblings. He also refers to his shirt as a costume. “It didn't work. Costume. Didn't help. Couldn't hide.”

Season 7 is the longest Spike ever goes without his duster (15+ episodes) and his clothes mostly consist of dark earthy tones like really dark browns and some greens (his tee-shirts mostly), a few black button-downs, and some blues.

Interestingly, his somewhat trademark black tee shirt does make a few appearances, usually in episodes that deal with Spike’s nature, like Never Leave Me and The Killer In Me (and Sleeper too I think) But that’s the biggest remnant of his old outfit. There’s not a single leather jacket in sight until episode 15. Which brings us to…

Get It Done. This is the episode where it all comes full circle. Because the thing about Spike is, no matter how much he wishes at this point he was an entirely different person…he’s not. There’s no Angel/Angelus effect for him. There’s no clean break between the soul and no soul. There’s no split personality. He is Spike with a soul, he is Spike without a soul. He is William. He’s even Randy. He is every iteration of himself he has ever been, it’s all just a matter of what he lets show at the moment. And at this point in his journey, he needs to be Spike. He needs to be the warrior he proved himself to be time and time again, if he’s going to face what’s coming.

So Spike gets his duster and puts on his game face and kills a demon, because that’s what needs to be done.

And in doing so, this episode pretty much confirms what’s been hinted at all along, his clothes, specifically his duster, are not just his persona or his default look, they’re his armor. Now he’s suited up and ready for the battle ahead. The blue motif also makes its final (non-flashback) appearance in this episode. Blue is the last color Spike wears before he permanently changes back to his all-black ensemble.

Unfortunately, though Spike is going to make quite a few more appearances, 7.15 is the last time we’ll truly and meaningfully see Spike in a different outfit. Any other clothing changes will be flashbacks in Lies My Parents Told Me, which for BTVS, will just be reiterations of the same clothes we’ve already seen (William and 1977 Spike). I’m not even going to really get into AtS other than to say it’s pretty bland?? and Spike…never truly changes his clothes at all?? The only changes occur in flashbacks and it’s just a suit or, again, a temporary (WW2 style) place holder for the duster he hasn’t yet gotten.

I will admit, Destiny actually does follow some of the established themes and gives us newly turned fledge!William in whites and light grays. Which once again feels like a symbol for the innocence he’s still holding onto (the innocence he’s about to literally/metaphorically have beaten from him). But I think that’s probably it for AtS.

I’m not even going to think about or acknowledge the spiral the rest of the season goes down or what reason/logic behind what happens to his duster in The Girl In Question also I’ve been avoiding watching that episode, but I really can’t imagine there’s a good reason they’d destroy his duster just to give him an identical one?? Make it make se—

Okay okay. I’m stepping away. I’m letting it go. While the themes do unravel later on in AtS, they mostly hold true in the original series. Spike's clothes reflect a lot about his character. They are often his armor and the mask he shows the world. They are something he uses to hide, and yet they ultimately end up speaking volumes about what’s really going on internally.

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 12)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 6,162

Summary: Following Javier’s phone call, a plan is hatched to move Horacio to safety. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Non-graphic references to injuries/pain, discussions of sexuality and coming out, discussions of parental loss and grief, swearing, some angst (but also lots of softness, with more still to come 🥺).   

Notes: I cannot tell you the relief to finally have this chapter done, phew! I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had this part of the plot in my head for nearly a year now and had to do quite a bit of research for it, but it was a tricky chapter that needed wrestling to the ground on several occasions 😂 Thank you so much to anyone still reading/commenting. The comments I’ve had since starting this fic a whole year ago have turned me into a grinning idiot and I love hearing what people think, so please feel free to come and chat either on Tumblr or AO3 😊 Chapter 13 is already in progress, so let’s see if it gives me an easier time lol. 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 12: Breathing Space

By the time Javier returned to Horacio’s bedside, Trujillo had been called away on Search Bloc business, and Steve was on a coffee run. A fact that made Javier wish he’d had the foresight to brew a fresh pot on his way back, given the usual quality of his partner’s attempts.

“No.”

To be fair, that was the response Javier had been expecting. “At least think about it for a minute.”

“I did, and my answer is still no.”

“Well, what’s the alternative?”

“I don’t know, but there has to be something.”

“You know there isn’t.”

“I can’t risk putting your family in danger, Javier.”

Our, Javier automatically – and much to his relief, silently – corrected. “You really think they’d try anything over the border?” He stopped short of mentioning extradition, not wanting to re-open that particular can of worms. Even if he remained confident that most narcos would do just about anything to avoid jail time northward of the Rio Grande. “As far as they’re concerned, there’s no reason to suspect you’d be in Laredo. It’s our safest option. Plus, I’d be coming with you.” He casually dropped that nugget of information; optimistic he’d saved his winning move for last.

“What?”

“No point sticking around here watching from the fucking side-lines whilst these heal.” He looked down towards his torso. “And whilst the ink dries on our visa revocations,” he added with a scoff.

“Won’t Messina and your other bosses have something to say about all of this?”

“What? About me visiting my old man whilst suspended from work? I wasn’t planning on clueing them in on the rest, funnily enough.” Not that Javier imagined they’d be losing much sleep over Horacio’s whereabouts. In their eyes, he was the Colombians’ problem. The DEA had been eager for Javier and Steve to distance themselves from him long before the ambush. And now a more palatable replacement was set to take over, they would most likely think of it as a savvy PR move.

Horacio sighed, unsure if he was more irritated by such a persuasive argument or the speed at which his resolve crumbled once Javier had played the ultimate ace. “Did you tell your father everything?”

Although they’d never spoken much of their family histories or the parallels between their lives, Horacio knew it was just Javier’s dad back in Texas. A thought that made him thankful his own mother at least had his sister’s family for company in Colombia. Not that they were any wiser about his and Javier’s relationship.

It wasn’t the sort of development you put in a letter or mentioned during a brief phone call. It had been hard enough explaining his redeployment to Madrid and the events of the last 24 hours. They were aware he was taking time off to recover from his injury at a classified location but were in the dark beyond that for their own safety. And Horacio couldn’t deny it had the added benefit of making his life easier for the time being.

“Yeah. Well, everything he needs to know.”

“Right.” Just as Horacio thought, then. “Are you okay with that?”

“Well, I could hardly tell him the rest over the fucking phone, could I?”

“I know, but are you prepared for him asking questions?”

“It’s gonna happen sooner or later, right?” The uncertainty was as plain on Javier’s face as it was in his words. This was new territory and, up until Horacio, he’d never envisaged the need for such conversations.

Horacio’s hand slid across the bedsheet and found its way into Javier’s, instinctively slotting their fingers together with gentle ease, like it was as natural as breathing. “Only if you’re ready.”

Javier met Horacio’s gaze with the crooked curl of his lips and a soft exhale through his nose. It was the only response he could muster to what seemed like an unfathomable concept. What did ready even mean, anyway? Was anyone ever really ready for this? Had he been ready for half of the shit that had happened in the last few years?

Instead of spiralling any further down that road, he lifted their intertwined hands to his mouth, nudging the scratch of his moustache back and forth along Horacio’s knuckles. “Let’s just get you there in one piece first.” An undertaking kissed into his skin, settling their shared apprehension, even if temporarily.

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

It had taken the calling in of several longstanding favours with the Colombian Military – particularly the current Air Force General with whom Horacio had shared off the record intel and several glasses of whiskey – to agree to transport Horacio as far as an airbase just outside San Antonio. From there, they’d need to pick up a vehicle to get them to Laredo.

News of the ambush would travel fast amongst those with vested interests in bringing down Escobar. But since the beginning of the war on drugs, the Colombians had regularly used American training facilities during manoeuvres. Providing details of the plan were strictly on a need-to-know-basis amongst those they could trust, and they didn’t linger upon arrival at the airbase, they were unlikely to attract suspicion from their U.S. counterparts. Or from any personnel who were no more immune to corruption than the CNP.

The main outstanding issue was moving Horacio in his current condition, given he shouldn’t have even left the hospital yet, never mind be flying anywhere. Nor could they risk drawing attention to themselves by using medical facilities once they were in the states.

“What about medical staff from here? Can they spare anyone to tag along?” Javier queried once Steve and Trujillo had returned, running his thumb across his top lip whilst he subconsciously paced around the perimeter of Horacio’s bed.

“Probably not with the number of injuries sustained in the ambush. They’re gonna be run off their feet over the next few days.” Trujillo exchanged a look with Javier from across the room, where he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Few knew better than him what an occupational hazard working for the CNP was in Escobar’s Colombia. And this was just another in a long list of atrocities.

“Wait a minute – one nurse would be enough, right?” Steve asked, suddenly sitting up from the lazy, feline recline he’d adopted in a plastic chair that was too low to the ground for a man of his height.

“Steve, no. You can’t ask her.” Javier had stopped pacing, although not before getting a step ahead of his partner.

“But she wants to help. She was going stir crazy in Miami, and her sister’s willing to have Olivia for a bit longer. If we both tagged along, we could head back home once Carrillo’s on the mend. Beats sittin’ round here whilst we’re out of action.”

“I can’t ask you to drag Connie into this. You’ve already done enough. We’ll figure something out.”

“Javi, for fuck’s sake, let us help!” The exasperation was evident in Steve’s raised tone and the deep sigh he heaved as his head dropped into his hands. He continued after a pause of awkward silence; his voice more measured this time. “You don’t always have to do everything alone. You know she’s a damn good nurse. He’d be in safe hands, I promise.”

The notion that he didn’t have faith in Connie’s ability as a nurse triggered a wave of guilt to wash over Javier. That’s not what his reservations were about at all. No, it was his track record of hurting those he cared about that was playing on his mind. But setting his own feelings to one side for a second, he had to admit Connie was the ideal person for the job.

He worked his jaw back and forth several times, mulling over Steve’s proposal and turning to Horacio for reassurance or permission; he wasn’t sure which. A vague nod that could have been either – or both – was enough to make Javier finally accept defeat, though. “Okay, fine. If you’re sure she’s willing, let’s do it.”

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Now that the details were agreed and time was of the essence, the wheels were swiftly set in motion. Horacio, Javier and Steve were to board a helicopter to the Colombian Military base in Bogotá where they were meeting Connie. And from there, they would fly onwards to San Antonio.

Whilst the pilot carried out pre-flight checks and, Javier and Steve fetched supplies for the journey, Trujillo ensured Horacio’s stretcher was secured in place in the helicopter. “I think you’re all good to go now, Colonel.”

“Thank you, Trujillo.” He hesitated for a moment, adjusting himself on the stiff canvas evidently built more for practicality than comfort. “Have the families been contacted yet?” Of course, he had to ask. It had been weighing heavy on his mind since he’d woken up, perhaps a force of habit seen as it was a job that usually fell under his remit.

“Yes, Colonel. There’s to be a memorial service next week once – once your replacement has arrived.”

The thought of not being able to pay his respects to the men he’d lost on his watch – those he had failed to protect – was as painful a blow as the wound on Horacio’s shoulder. Even though he accepted he had no choice, it still felt cowardly and selfish to be running away and hiding like this. It went against his natural instincts when so many others never even had the option. “Right, of course. Any more news on Martínez?”

“Just that it looks like Gaviria is going to try talk him into it.” Trujillo’s gaze had dropped to the floor at the mention of a replacement, and he was now studying the scuffed toe of his boot with great interest.

Horacio gave a wry smile. “I’m sure he’ll find a way. Martínez won’t be what you’re all used to, but he’s good at what he does.”

“Do you think it’ll be enough, Colonel?”

“I don’t know. It never was before. It’s possible someone else might attempt to fill the gap, though. We’re not Pablo’s only enemies. So, just be careful and keep yourself safe.”

“Yes, Colonel. But if I get a shot at him, make no mistake, I’m taking it.” He raised his head, his eyes now meeting Horacio’s head-on with steely determination.

Horacio couldn’t and didn’t want to argue with that, so he gave a swift, firm nod of approval.

A shout from the ground indicated they were about ready to depart. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“Before you go…” Horacio trailed off, unsure how to phrase what he was about to say or why he felt the need to say it at all.

“Yes, Colonel?”

“Javier. If he ends up back here, and things get rough…”

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Trujillo. And don’t be a stranger.”

“Don’t worry, the drinks are on you once you’re back on your feet, and this is all over.” Trujillo threw a smirk over his shoulder as he climbed out of the chopper.

Even as he walked away, Trujillo didn’t miss the huff of a chuckle from Horacio despite himself and something that sounded very much like Cheeky fucker muttered under his breath.

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Their arrival in San Antonio passed without incident, and a car was ready and waiting for them as expected. Steve offered to take on driving duties, with Connie sitting upfront, leaving Javier and Horacio to rest in the back.

So far, Horacio had remained stable but drowsy from regular doses of pain relief. Although, now that his last dosage had worn off and he was forced to sit upright, a dull throb had taken hold in his shoulder. With nothing to be done until Laredo, he settled for deep breaths and the soothing touch of Javier’s fingers over his left hand; the tightening of his grip the only obvious tell of his discomfort.

Javier wasn’t faring much better with exhaustion and the added pressure of a seat belt resting over his tender ribs. But he was trying to stay awake just in case he was needed for navigation purposes once they neared Laredo. It had been a long time since he had driven on these roads, but as the hours passed, his muscle memory kicked in.

Mile after mile of endless farmland whizzed by as they sped along the highway. In the height of summer, the ground was arid and sun-scorched, but the heavy rainfall from the last couple of months had quenched the soil and left a carpet of green in its wake. After years spent in the cooler Bogotá climate, Javier was glad his return here came in November. It would make for more comfortable nights, which was an appealing prospect when all he wanted to do was lie down – preferably with Horacio – and rest for the foreseeable.

Despite his best efforts, he could feel his head beginning to nod and his eyes starting to droop. They passed a diner where he celebrated his eighth and ninth birthdays, and apart from a fresh lick of paint, it didn’t look any different. That was always the discombobulating part of being back here. It was frozen in time in so many ways, yet, everything around it had fundamentally changed, including Javier himself.

He wasn't sure if it was the quiet murmur of chatter between Steve and Connie mixed with the lull of Spanish voices on the radio that reminded him of long car journeys with his parents. Or perhaps it was just recent events catching up with him. But his head slumped against the window, and his eyelids finally gave way to slumber.

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It was late into the evening when they pulled up in front of the large steel gates drawn closed at the foot of the ranch. Once Steve cut the engine, it became clear why they were shut when a cacophony of barking could be heard instead.

Javier went ahead of the others, the cool night air shocking his senses awake again after his accidental nap. He slipped behind the gate, the barks of alarm mellowing into whines of recognition as he greeted the furry welcoming party like the old friends they were. He hadn’t been back in far too long, but it was oddly reassuring to know he wasn’t forgotten by those whose unwavering loyalty meant they would never judge him.

Not being able to crouch to the ground made it trickier than usual to extract himself from the excitable clambering of paws and warm, sloppy licks to his hands. But the dogs seemed to pick up on his stiff body language and soon backed off. Or maybe they’d sensed the familiar presence appear behind them in the shadow of the floodlight that had flicked on at the sudden movement.

Javier’s attention was drawn away from the dogs to the shadow. “Hey, Pops.”

“Javi.” They both moved in for a hug, forgetting Javier’s injury for a second, but compromised instead with a handshake and light pats on the back. “How was the journey? Everything go to plan?”

“Long, tiring. But yeah. Yeah, it did.”

“Good. You look like you need a drink, though.”

Javier couldn’t take offence at that, as even in this limited light, he knew he must have looked like shit. “Wouldn’t say no to one.”

“Well, let’s get your friends in first, then we’ll see what we can do.” Chucho was already peering curiously at the car parked on the other side of the gate before stepping past Javier and hooking it back to let Steve drive through.

A winding dirt track led up to a small complex of buildings with a courtyard in between the main farmhouse and two adjoined guesthouses that were sometimes rented out by holidaymakers or used by seasonal workers during busy periods on the ranch. Luckily, they had been sat empty for the last couple of months due to a particularly heavy spell of rainfall and storms, plus a last-minute cancellation or two.

Once Steve had parked up, Chucho was waiting to greet them.

“Dad, this is Steve Murphy – my partner – and his wife, Connie. Guys, this is Chucho.”

Chucho held out his hand to each of them in turn. “Pleasure to meet you both at long last.”

“Likewise. Impressive place you’ve got here,” Steve observed, nodding emphatically with approval as his gaze danced around the complex.

The canine welcoming committee had returned and latched themselves onto Connie, who was knelt on the floor as they fussed around her. “It really is, and these guys are adorable!”

“Thank you. These two are Sol and Leo.” Chucho pointed to two black and white Border Collies who were currently playfighting at Connie’s feet in a battle for her attention. “And this one is Luna.” This time he gestured to a majestic looking Great Pyrenees with a white and grey mixed coat. She hung back more than Sol and Leo, but still sniffed at Connie’s hand with great interest. “She’s a tougher nut to crack than the others, but she seems to like you.”

Meanwhile, Javier did his best to help Horacio out of the car. Although the pointed look directed his way suggested Horacio didn’t appreciate the assistance in the circumstances and was determined to push himself upwards with a stifled groan instead.

No sooner had Horacio extracted himself from the car, than Chucho’s attention shifted in his direction. “And I take it this must be Horacio?”

“Erm yeah, that’s right, Pops.” Javier’s mouth was suddenly devoid of all moisture and he couldn’t quite meet his father’s eye. He quickly cleared his throat, desperate to get a fucking grip of himself before anyone noticed his awkwardness. “Horacio, this is my dad, Chucho.”

“Pleased to meet you, Señor Peña.” Despite his less-than-graceful entrance, it was as though a switch flicked in a matter of seconds. Horacio confidently held out his left hand and grasped Chucho’s with the same professionalism he had done when meeting the likes of Gaviria for the first time. “And thank you – for everything. I’m sorry to intrude like this.” He was doing much better than Javier so far, it seemed.

“Please, call me Chucho. And well, it’s one way to get my son to visit me, at least,” he quipped, making a point of side-eyeing Javier. “Let’s get you more comfortable and find you something to eat. You all must be starving.”

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Officially, Steve and Connie took one of the guesthouses, whilst Horacio took the other, leaving Javier to become reacquainted with his old bedroom in the main farmhouse. It gave everyone their own space, plus Connie and her medical supplies were close by for Horacio whenever required.

Unofficially, of course, Javier had other ideas. He waited until Chucho had passed around hearty bowls of homemade sopa de fideo. After making large batches for the ranch staff – particularly in the colder months – it had become his speciality dish. 

Everyone had been quick to disperse to bed once sleeping arrangements were agreed, so when the coast was clear, Javier discreetly made his way across the courtyard. If it wasn't for his ribs, he would have laughed at the absurdity of sneaking around like this, especially at his age, but then again, needs must. For now, at least.

The guesthouses, much like the main farmhouse, were a mix of limestone and wooden beams, and with it being a working ranch, the interior erred towards the rustic. Each property had a master bedroom with a double bed, plus an additional bunk room and bathroom. Paintings of the local landscape and photos of prize-winning cattle and horses reared on the ranch adorned the walls, along with a trademark set of horns hung over the fireplace in the centre of a combined living/kitchen area. Javier had often rolled his eyes at how clichéd the whole thing was, but it was the authentic experience tourists signed up for.

By the time Javier arrived, Connie had given Horacio more pain relief and attached an antibiotic drip as a precaution. Horacio was already dozing in bed, elevated by a stack of pillows, but soon stirred once he felt the mattress dip next to him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s fine. I did try stay awake.” Horacio’s voice was fuzzy with fatigue, but he was determined to finish the conversation before fully giving into it.

“You need to rest. Don’t worry about anything else right now, okay?” It was awkward given their injuries, but Javier did his best to lean against Horacio’s left shoulder. He placed a kiss to Horacio’s temple and ran the pad of his thumb in soothing circles where their hands joined under the duvet. As he relaxed into the solid warmth next to him, he let out a long sigh he was pretty sure he’d been holding in since they had left Carlos Holguín.

“Well, you did it.” Horacio tilted his head to the left, connecting with Javier’s. He’d never wanted to wrap himself so thoroughly around someone, but that would have to wait for another day and this would have to suffice for now.

“I think you’ll find it was a team effort. Although now you mention it, it was my idea.” A weary smirk crossed Javier's face, but his eyes stayed closed as he decompressed and digested the events of the last couple of days.

“Of course. You never told me that charm of yours was a family trait.”

“You never asked.” There it was again, only this time accompanied by the teasing scratch of facial hair against Horacio’s neck. “Oh, and speaking of, Señor Peña?”

“What’s wrong with that? I’d just met the guy!” Despite the incredulity that had sprung into Horacio’s voice, he didn’t have the energy to lift his head from its resting spot against Javier’s.

“Nothing, it’s just you’re so fucking formal.”

“Am I?”

“You’re the only person to exclusively call me Javier since I was at school, for a start.”

“What can I say? You’ve always felt more like a Javier than a Javi to me.”

“Never said it was a bad thing.”

That was the last comment either of them remembered the other saying as they succumbed to the rest their bodies and minds had been crying out for. Not just since the ambush, but for weeks, months, years. It was a cumulative burnout catching up with them, one that couldn’t possibly be fixed in a night, a week or even a month, but it was a start.

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Javier couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in his childhood bedroom. Even prior to moving away for work, he’d taken up residence in one of the guesthouses. Which was where he’d snuck out unnoticed at the first sign of sunrise that morning, reluctantly leaving Horacio fast asleep in favour of avoiding questions he wasn’t ready to answer yet. He always figured it was close enough to nip across the yard to the main farmhouse for food and drink supplies when his own stash ran dry. But far enough away so his dad couldn’t hear what he got up to with anyone he invited home with him.

Early dawn light trickled through the curtains and drew Javier’s eye to the sun-faded snapshots of his past that whispered like ghosts from the corner of the room. His graduation certificate sat alongside an old family photo taken at a cousin’s quinceañera. Rounding everyone up to pose for it in the first place had been a challenge, not helped by him and several other children hiding in the stables passing round a bottle of tequila. A couple of swigs was all it took for Javier to turn green and lose the contents of his stomach in the horses’ feeding trough, much to the delight of his cousins. To this day, they still relished in recounting every detail of that story whenever their paths crossed.

He also remembered that day well, as it was one of the last few pictures taken of his mother. Of course, you couldn’t tell from the photo, as she tried to hide her illness as much as possible, even when everyone knew. They all went to great lengths not to talk about it when Javier was present too, but he was a child; he wasn’t stupid. He picked up on all of the hushed conversations. The tears wiped hastily away on the backs of hands or sleeves, and the sad, pitying smiles from older relatives who already viewed him as a half-orphan. He learnt more about human behaviour and reading body language in that period of his life than any Psychology or Sociology course could ever have taught him.

A knock roused him from his thoughts, a welcome relief to what was rapidly turning into a painful walk down memory lane. “Come in.” His vocal cords were still thick with sleep and long overdue their first caffeine fix of the day.

Almost as though he had read his son’s mind, the door opened with a creak to reveal Chucho armed with a large mug and already dressed for work, Stetson included. The restorative aroma of coffee quickly drifted into the bedroom, and there was something strangely nostalgic to Javier about the situation.

“Did you manage to sleep okay?” Chucho asked as he perched on the edge of the bed and handed the mug to Javier once he’d propped himself up against the headboard with a wince and a grunt.

“Yeah, I did, thanks.” Javier immediately took a sip despite it being far too hot to drink yet. A much easier alternative than elaborating on the main reason for his good night’s sleep.

“You never could wait for it to cool down. Even when you were small, and your mother warned you not to burn yourself, you wouldn’t listen.”

Javier huffed faintly, sending a trail of steam across the rim of the mug held up to his mouth. “I remember. But I’m a big boy now, Pops. I think I can manage.”

“Are you sure about that, Mijo?”

It was far too early for riddles and metaphors. So, Javier rolled his eyes and continued to make his way through his drink until Chucho was forced to change the subject.

“I need to tend to the horses and run a few errands in town. I take it you’ll all be alright without me for a few hours?”

“Yeah, sure, do whatever you need to do. Have you, er, seen any of the others yet this morning?” Javier aimed for casual curiosity but was quite sure he missed the mark.

“Connie’s in the kitchen. She was taking some coffee to Steve and had just checked on Horacio, who apparently had a good night by all accounts. He’s lucky to have friends like you. To do all of this for him. Not many would.”

“Glad to hear it. And er, yeah, well, he’d do the same for me.” Javier hid behind his mug once again, fearing he’d said too much and given himself away even with such a short sentence. He hoped the gulping noise he made as he swallowed wasn’t as loud as it sounded in his head. Although to be on the safe side, he ploughed on in a bid to cover it up. “Listen, I, er, just wanted to say thank you. For letting us all stay here like this.”

“You’re my son, Javi. You’ll always have a home here.” Chucho stood up from the bed and softly squeezed Javier’s shoulder before making his exit to give the horses their morning feed. An air of unanswered questions lingered between them. But if anyone knew when to back off and let Javier exercise his right to remain silent, it was Chucho.

Javier wondered if that sentiment would remain true if Chucho knew the whole truth. It was one thing to suspect your teenage son of experimenting with his best friend when they were little more than raging hormone bombs. But it was quite another to be introduced to the man your adult son was in a serious relationship with. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to reveal the latter just yet, or if he ever would be.

He downed the dregs of his coffee and made his way to the bathroom, every sharp movement still requiring slow, deep breaths. As expected, the bruising was even angrier now, and the jets of water from the shower faucet were like pinpricks to his chest. Once dressed, he headed for the kitchen to find Connie still at the table making a fresh pot of coffee.

“Oh hey, you’re up. Want another?” Connie gestured to the empty mug in Javier’s hand.

“Morning. And very much so, thanks,” Javier replied, holding out his cup to be refilled. “Steve still in bed?” Like he even needed to ask given the number of times he’d left his partner snoring away in his bunk back at Carlos Holguín.

“How ever did you guess? I think the drive took it out of him. How you feeling anyway? Were you able to get any sleep?”

“I’m alright, better for those painkillers you gave me, so thanks for that. And yeah, I went out like a light for a change. How’s—is he—have you—” Whatever he was aiming for, it certainly wasn’t that.

“He’s doing okay,” Connie cut in, her eyes softening further as she understood what Javier was attempting to ask. “I changed his dressing about an hour ago. I’m not sure he knew I was there as he was still asleep, but everything looks as it should at this stage. And don’t worry about the fatigue; it’s perfectly normal post-surgery. Even more so when you’ve just flown a few thousand miles against medical advice.” She couldn’t resist a stern look at Javier. Although there was no real annoyance in her scolding.

“Thanks, Connie. And thanks for coming here. You and Steve really didn’t have to do all this.”

“I’m here because I want to be, Javi, and so is Steve. After everything you did for him when he was…well, you know. It’s the least we can do.” Now it was Connie’s turn to hesitate. “He, er, told me what happened. I swear I didn’t tell him anything. We both just figured it out separately.”

Javier nodded as he got his head around the abrupt change of subject, working his way through his second coffee much like the first. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t know for sure until the day Steve went missing. But I’d had a hunch for a while. There were a few things he said during his petty rants about the two of you going off without him. Of course, he thought it was all about how you obviously didn’t trust him,” she laughed with a roll of her eyes, “but it never added up to me. And then, do you remember that Embassy Christmas dinner a few years back?”

“Vaguely. I think Steve and I handled being forced to attend by making good use of the free bar.”

“That’s the one, and oh, you absolutely did. You could barely walk by the end of the night. I was about ready to leave you both there to sober up when along came my Knight in shining armour. Well, Colonel in dress uniform anyway.” Connie couldn’t resist a wink now she was in full flow of her story.

“What?”

“You don’t remember? He offered to drive us all home and helped you into your apartment.”

“No, I don’t remember that at all.” Horacio always hated those bullshit functions, so Javier was surprised he even turned up in the first place. “Fuck, I really must have been drunk.” As he laughed, a warmth spread through him at being given a new piece of his and Horacio’s history that he hadn’t even been aware of. History that happened long before Tolú yet made complete sense in hindsight.

“Oh, you were. I don’t think I saw Steve until late afternoon the day after. But yeah, there was always something about you two.”

“Did Steve – did he say anything? When he found out you knew, I mean.”

“I think his pride was a little wounded because Mr Big Shot DEA Agent didn’t work it out before his wife.” She paused to allow them both a moment to indulge in a shared joke at the expense of her husband. “But other than that, not really. He cares about you, Javi. We both do. We just want you to be happy.” She took a long sip of her coffee and placed the mug back down. “And I’m sure your dad wants the same thing too.”

Javier wasn’t sure what to say to that. But luckily for him, Connie clocked the flashes of panic in his eyes at the mention of his father. She reached across the table and lightly squeezed his hand with her own, allowing him to reciprocate in a silent gesture of thanks instead.

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It was mid-afternoon by the time Horacio woke. His bleary eyes squinted at the low sun clinging to the edges of the sky and curtains, along with a thick layer of dust that exposed how unused the place had been lately.

He needed a moment to notice Javier lying next to him, a lazy curve of the lips taking hold as they drank each other in.

“Hey,” Horacio rasped. He was still groggy and grateful for the glass of water held out for him to sip from as he slowly came round.

“Hey yourself, Sleeping Beauty.” It raised a huff of amusement from them both, although there was undeniable beauty in witnessing Horacio like this. In how relaxed his jaw and facial muscles were for a change. In the way his long lashes delicately fluttered like a butterfly’s wings whenever he stirred. In the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, as predictable as the tide drifting in and out. Waves gently lapping around them for once rather than submerging and drowning, reminding Javier how peaceful sleep was supposed to be.

“What time is it?”

“Just after two.”

“Shit. You should’ve woken me.”

“Why, you got somewhere to be?”

“Very funny. I just don’t like sleeping through the day, that’s all.” It wasn’t something Horacio had ever indulged in, even throughout his teenage years. There hadn’t been much opportunity for lounging in bed on weekends, with Sundays reserved almost exclusively for church and family gatherings. Whilst Saturdays were often spent shadowing his father. Whether it was learning maintenance skills around the house, or being taken to his workplace to be given a “head start”; Horacio had a strong work ethic instilled in him from an early age.

“I think it might be allowed when you’re recovering from major surgery. How you feeling?”

“Annoyingly exhausted despite how much I’ve slept.”

“Connie said that’s normal after surgery, so nothing to worry about. You should eat and drink something to keep your strength up, though. There’s plenty of leftovers from last night.”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

“Pops has taken the others on a guided tour.” Javier gave an affectionate roll of his eyes at the thought of Chucho in his element. By the end of it, his friends would know their Quarter Horses from their Arabians. And their Santa Gertrudis from their Brahmans, whether they wanted to or not. Even once it became clear Javier wasn’t likely to follow in his father’s footsteps, these were facts still embedded deep in his long-term memory. “But Connie will be dropping by later to check up on you.”

“Right.” It didn’t take long for the tension to re-emerge on Horacio’s face now he was awake. A shift that didn’t go unnoticed by Javier.

“What is it?”

“What you’re all doing for me, it’s…beyond what I deserve. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone, Javier.”

“Hey, come on, you know it’s not like that. You had no choice but to leave.” With laboured effort, Javier shifted closer to Horacio and leaned over him as carefully as he could manage. “So, this isn’t about being a burden.” He broke off to place slow, tender kisses on his lips and forehead. “It’s about keeping you alive,” he finished, nuzzling their noses together like a pair of purring cats.

It was another half an hour before they finally left the bed in search of food. Not that either man was in a fit state for anything physical beyond kissing at the moment. A fact that infuriated and frustrated them almost as much as the injuries themselves. But being alone together like this, with time and space to heal, to catch their breath and to close their eyes each night without the imminent threat of violence on the horizon, was more than enough for now. Despite the horror that had led them here, their newfound respite was a luxury to be savoured and they fully intended to make the most of it whilst they had the chance.

[jinpanman]

'Til Death Do Us Part (snippet)

summary: You will love him forevermore. In sickness and in health. ‘Til death do us part.

pairing: husband!namjoon x wife!reader (but in this snippet, the reader is not present. it’s an intimate scene between namjoon, taehyung, yoongi, and jungkook.)

wc: 874

genre: angst, pg13 (the actual fic will most likely be an 18+ rating but this excerpt by itself is sfw!)

warnings: major character death, a lot of talking about dying, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (no dying happening in this excerpt but i’m noting it now just so everyone is aware!)

a/n: a little excerpt from an angsty joon fic i've been "writing" for the past 2 years lmao. uuuuhhhh....i guess let me know what you think? do you want more of this? i’ve looked at this doc and cried too many times to even know if its worth anything anymore lol

It’s tensely quiet after the reveal. No one dares breathe.

The living room feels like a furnace and it’s so suffocating. Namjoon fidgets in his seat, unable to look any of the men in the eyes. He doesn’t know how they’ll react. How does one even react to news like this? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything anymore. Maybe it was a mistake to tell them like this. Maybe he should call you to come back. He can’t do this without you. He needs you—

Jungkook’s the first to react.

He laughs. The noise is so unsettling. Much too out of place for the heavy confession that hangs over their heads.

“Haha. Funny. That’s funny, Namjoon-hyung. You’re really fun—ouch!”

Yoongi elbows him and then they hear sniffling beside Yoongi. Taehyung’s slouched on his knees, head hung low. Namjoon watches wearily as he sees Jungkook’s eyes sharpen then dull within a mere second. His face is suddenly stricken with panic and he faces Namjoon.

“But hyung!” He suddenly exclaims. Desperation written all over his expression. “You—you haven't even experienced your midlife crisis yet! You haven't even met my girlfriend yet!” 

Namjoon laughs at the outburst. What a very Jungkook thing to say.

"Last time I checked you weren't dating anyone," Yoongi drawls.

"Exactly! Th-that's the point! I haven't gotten my blessing from hyung and noona yet I can't—you can’t leave us yet hyung. You can’t. I won’t let you” Jungkook shakes his head vehemently, refusing to accept it. There was still so much he wanted to share with you and Namjoon. Still so much he wanted to ask his favorite hyung.

“This is bullshit.” He can’t wrap his mind around it. He stands up and starts pacing, ranting angrily. “This is—You can’t fucking die! You’re not even 40 yet! You-you just—!”

Yoongi tugs Jungkook down and places a firm hand on his thigh. A silent command that has Jungkook visibly calming, though Namjoon knows the storm continues to brew inside him. His own insides churn endlessly with mind numbing anxiety. He’s said it out loud so many times now yet it never gets any easier. Never feels any more real. He’s been living in a permanent dream state since the diagnosis.

A pregnant pause.

Then a hand stained red with stress bites rests itself atop Namjoon’s knee. Yoongi’s looking right at him with glassy eyes, lips drawn in a determined frown.

"Namjoon-ah. My brother. My friend. How can we help you?”

Namjoon lets out a heavy sigh. A sigh that holds more pain that his little body can hold. He’s never considered himself small. Even when he was a lanky, awkward teenager, he never thought of himself as small. But here, in the presence of his most important people, he feels exceedingly small.

He places his own shaking hand over Yoongi’s. Gives it a tight squeeze. Lets a tear fall, and then, "All I ask is for you to be with my family after I'm gone. God! Please don’t let them go through this alone!"

He’s used up the last of his strength, and as his face crumbles, an uneven cry breaks out from his lungs into the hot atmosphere of the living room. It’s so unbearably hot. He can’t do this anymore. The limp hold he had on his composure releases.

“I don’t want to die,” he confesses in a whispered breath.

He’s weak.

He thought he’d be able to shoulder this burden. He couldn’t bear to tell his wife. His sweetest love. If he told you, he knew you would only chip away more at yourself to try to make him happy. You already have so much to deal with. He was determined to give you one less thing to worry about.

But a human can only hold on for so long until the string finally slips from their grip, no matter how tightly they’re holding. And he can feel himself slipping. He’s slipping and his other hand is reaching desperately for someone to hold onto him.

He doesn’t want to fall into this dark, lonely emptiness.

“Hyung,” Taehyung finally speaks. His voice hoarse and strained. He immediately stands up, pulling Namjoon to his feet and embraces Namjoon in a rough, tight hug. Namjoon’s arms wrap themselves around his brother, like he’s an anchor and openly sobs into his shoulder.

“Hyung,” Taehyung repeats over and over.

They cling onto each other and the years of unspoken affection and hidden resentment all spill out from their tears. They haven’t always gotten along. Both men often too stubborn to see how similar they are. It’s a bitter revelation, knowing that time’s run out for them. Namjoon curses himself for not having been a better older brother. There’s still so much he wants to share. So many secrets and tips he wants to pass along to Taehyung.

He feels the presence of Yoongi and Jungkook behind him, then the weight of their arms encased around him and Taehyung. He weeps for the immeasurable love he feels right now. And he weeps for the love that he wishes he could return to them.

The four of them stay there for many moments longer, broken and angry, huddled together as they cry and mourn for the future lost.

[conarcoin]

SMPEarth Fanfics

There really isn’t that much fic for SMPEarth so I decided to make a post with a bunch. Some of these are my own, but most aren’t. Long post, so under the cut. I haven’t read all of these myself yet.

MY FICS:

playing imitation games - JoshA20 character study, largely based on the ARGs of SMPEarth. (Oneshot)

and if they laugh at me, i’ll make your heart my home - In an AU where Deo is exiled from Business Bay and joins AE, he finds comfort in Wisp among his new cold & hostile home. (Oneshot)

i’m so sorry (returns) - Slightly canon divergent (just timeline changes, shifting events around). Wisp apologizes for abandoning Business Bay. Deo is upset. (Oneshot)

OTHERS’ FICS:

The Stars Still Love You (They Always Will) - c!Tommy gets sent back in time to SMPEarth. (40/?)

off with their head (wait, are you serious?) - Caught in the middle of the war between Business Bay and the Empire, Charlie has to face his friend, Wilbur, on the battlefield. (Oneshot)

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it - An immortal god, Deo, grows attached to a mortal named Tommy, and is devastated by his death at the hands of a traitor. (Oneshot)

we are the crossroads - Technoblade overworks himself on a particularly scary night at the Antarctic Empire. Phil helps. (Oneshot)

the criminal from korea - Charlie got banished from New Zealand, and lives alone in his country, Kpop. Jack, a leader of the island nation, pays him an unexpected visit to apologize, much to the dismay of the other two New Zealand Soots. (Oneshot)

step one, light me on fire - On Day 19 of Charlie's SMPEarth history, he was named the first and only criminal of New Zealand. (Oneshot)

Letters From Another Millennia - Tommy and his family move into a new house in a small village, it is said to have sheltered magical creatures hunderds— maybe even thousands of years ago. What happens when he finds old letters hidden underneath the floorboards and decides to write responses to them for fun, but ends up getting in touch with a certain someone from the past? (2/15)

Before We Get Older (Let’s Do Everything) - The happiest Deo has ever seen Tommy, he thinks, is right now, as he looks over at Tommy from where he’s lounging in the co-pilot’s seat. (Oneshot)

Misunderstood Emperor - The Antarctic Empire is a grand but isolated country. It plays by its own rules in the grand scheme of things, but one thing is for certain. They are powerful extremely powerful. Ruled by their Emperor Technoblade, who is a mystery to everyone. There are several legends that have told people stories about the great Emperor but none ever tell as much as people would have liked. As one of the immortals, he is a legend in that part. But it's something more for his people and the world. He is a god, The Blood God. He not human as he is above them. This is great and all but what happens when Antarctica is forced out of isolation and people really start to meet the ruler himself. Is he anything they thought him to be? And is being called a god as good as people imagine? We shall see... (2/?)

it’s just a waltz (i’d give you anything you wanted) - After a successful battle campaign across the globe, co-emperors Technoblade and Philza take a reprieve in their mountain palace they call home. A reprieve means a break. Avoiding work. Techno struggles with this, so Phil takes matters into his own hands, and orchestrates a simple, fun plan to help Techno loosen up. (Oneshot)

Moonglass - The Antarctic Empire has long since peacefully disbanded- really, there never was an Empire in the first place. A means to an end and nothing more, their work was done and they retreated back to where their simple work waited in the southern snow. That is, until one day, when Commander Philza Minecraft is nominated to be part of the first group of players to land on the moon. Just a simple trip to survey the land, to evaluate what could be built there one day.... The reports never mentioned the dragon. (7/7)

Snow Angel - The Angel Of Death, now more than ever, is faced with the prospect of eternity. He selfishly hopes he will not fly it alone. (21/21)

Earth and Its Connotations - If things were different, if time had been a little more fluid when her hands had set events into motion, then we might have watched a completely new story unfold from the start. Dream has a question to ask of one of his friends, and that friend has an answer. The butterfly beats its wings and a hurricane brews in the far reaches of the arctic north. (Oneshot)

The Cold Brings People Together - No one would question the bond between the leaders of the Antarctic Empire. Some would call them thick as thieves, birds of a feather, peas in a pod, bolder ones would even call them like a father and son, others would run in fear at the titles 'Blood god' and 'Angel of Death'. Everyone knew that to get to Techno you would have to go through Phil and to get to Phil you would have to go through Techno. The question on the more curious, more daring peoples' minds was, how did the two get so close? (Oneshot)

for dust thou art - The Antarctic Empire's civilization fell long ago, it's cities in ashes and it's kingdom fallen to dust. The ruins are precarious and no one dares trod to the arctic to pick them over. No one, that is, except for you. The ruins of an empire beckon at your mind like the claws of a beast. (Oneshot)

hell hath frozen over. - in a world where not one angel showed him warmth, techno finds life in the arctic thrall of Death. (Oneshot)

Why Did You Return. -  And even as Deo brought the feared Midas sword to hiss neck, he couldn't find himself to feel any fear. The only emotion he could feel was raw regret, and acceptance. He knew he would relinquish his life to a God-slayer, a renowned fearless being, who would stop at nothing to protect those who he considered family. He would lose his life to TimeDeo, once a brother, now an enemy, and Wisp could not bring himself to feel any fear, only the relief that it was someone he still deeply cared for taking the anger out on him in a way he deemed justified, and there was no fear. Only the cold accepting that this was the end. (Oneshot)

I Wear The Chain I Forged In Life - “Oh,” Doomsday says. “We’ve run out of time.” “Doomsday, please, just tell me how to stop this,” Tommy begs. Doomsday does not meet his eyes. “I wear the chain I forged in life, TommyInnit. I made it link by link, yard by yard. Let us hope you’ve done the same.” (Oneshot)

old friends, old scars (new starts) - After betraying him during SMPEarth, Wisp joins the Dream SMP to offer his alliance to Tommy once more. (Oneshot)

After What I Did, How Could You Not? - Nobody had heard from this world-conquering Empire in quite some time. It had been months since Phil or Techno had spoken out for their kingdom and even Newfoundland had been wondering where they’ve gone. Tommy seemed to know, but he didn’t seem keen on sharing. (Oneshot)

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Part 4

(The side characters strike again!)

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Part 3

L!MC= Lucifer’s kid | M!MC= Mammon’s kid | A!MC=Asmo’s kid

Let’s get right to it!

The Uncle That Hardcore Simps For His Spouse In the Most Wholesome Way (Diavolo)

Gasp! More half-demon kids? Oh my! Maybe if he tried again next year a kid of his own would pop down! Hang on- he hadn’t slept with a human in almost a century... dang. No kids for him...

...maybe...

Remember when I said Diavolo would try to do those stereotypical dad (tm) things and be hip with the kids? Yeah he keeps doing that.

The number of broken windows related to wayward baseballs goes up 150%. At least that’s how they all figured out that M!MC is nearsighted like their dad!

M!MC had developed a bit of a habit of telling Diavolo about cool human stuff and making the Crown Prince even more interested in the human world than normal.

You may be thinking “what’s so bad about that?” well, the number of yo-yos at RAD went up so high that Lucifer had to ban them.

Belphie and Satan, being the rebels they are, became yo-yo masters specifically to spite Lucifer.

It was sort of like the fidget spinners craze if you were in school for that.

Oh, hi Lord Diavolo. What’s a fidget spinner? It’s this- I should stop talking...

Since no one learned their lesson from the previous incident, Diavolo threw another BBQ.

“Why are we doing this again?” L!MC asked to no one in particular.

“Don’t worry, L!MC. I’ve taken every precaution possible to make sure that what happened last time doesn’t happen again.” Diavolo said and continued in his crusade to cover the entire pathway with sidewalk chalk doodles.

L!MC, Luke, Diavolo, M!MC, Belphie, and A!MC were all busily drawing a wide variety of doodles and drawings with chalk while the other guests milled around nearby. A!MC was in the middle of drawing quite the nice looking Cerberus chibi, while M!MC and Belphie were drawing a lot of stick figures. L!MC and Luke had just finished a wonderful drawing of... an alpaca? Giraffe? Thing...? Hell, even they didn’t know what it was.

Diavolo looked over at M!MC’s stick figure army with a big smile on his face. “So what are all of them doing? It looks like that one’s flying!”

You could practically hear the Addam’s Family theme play as M!MC and Belphie looked at each other and grinned.

“Oh Belphie was just talking about L!MC’s flying lesson fails and I felt that an artist’s rendition was needed.” M!MC explained, he began to point out certain doodles. “Here’s L!MC getting up off the ground, then there’s them actually flying, and this is them falling in the fountain.”

L!MC looked over at the chalk and glared at M!MC. “It’s generous to call that an artist’s rendition. It looks like crap.”

“And what did you draw?” Belphie smirked at the alpaca-giraffe-thing, Luke protectively covered up the drawing (side note, Luke was wearing white and playing with sidewalk chalk, by the end of the day he looked like a walking pride flag).

“None of your business!” Luke huffed.

“And what about that one?” Diavolo seemed completely oblivious to the hostility brewing between the two groups, A!MC was completely used to this and walked away to grab a drink.

“Ah, good eye, Lord Diavolo!” M!MC chirped. “This is a drawing of the time L!MC almost burned down your kitchen.”

Diavolo laughed and gave M!MC a few pats on the head. “Very accurate!”

“You’re so lucky I followed the rules and didn’t bring a water gun...” L!MC growled as they slowly reached for their backpack.

“Yeah... lucky. Real lucky...” M!MC nodded as they tried to casually reach for their bag, Belphie followed suit.

“I’m so glad we all followed the rules.” Luke smiled, his own hand inching towards his bag.

There was a brief moment of stillness before the four of them whipped out their water guns and pointed them at each other.

“This BBQ ain’t big enough for the both of us!” M!MC’s terrible cowboy impression aside, their gun was poised to shoot directly at Luke and L!MC’s alpaca-giraffe-thing.

“Everyone, I know this is a human world tradition but-”

Belphie silenced Diavolo by pointing his water gun at him. “Sh, don’t talk unless you have a water gun as well.”

Deciding not to smite Belphie for treason, Diavolo pulled his own water gun out of his shirt. “Okay, what now?”

“Now, we’re in a standoff...” L!MC glowered at M!MC, the air was practically crackling with hostility...

Until a burst of flames got everyone to whirl around to see A!MC with hairspray and a lighter.

“No water guns! I refuse to go home shivering and covered in grass again!”

Crisis averted. Everyone went to go fail at throwing beanbags into a hole instead of shooting each other.

That was probably for the best... Belphie filled everyone’s water guns with paint.

The Uncle That Does All the Cooking for Family Dinners (Barbatos)

Remember how I said that Barbs liked smol Lucifer? Yea, he likes smol Asmo too. Smol Asmo is willing to admit that they don’t know how to use an oven and is willing to learn.

M!MC is formally banned from being within 50 feet of the kitchen. It’s for the best.

A!MC often tries to get Barbatos to look into the possible futures so they can see if they can avoid messing anything up and A!MC is just so adorable that Barbatos actually thinks about it.

He still says no every single time.

“Could you at least tell me if I have the possibility of doing something embarrassing in the near future?”

“My apologies, A!MC, but no.”

“P-please?”

“The answer remains the same.”

A!MC sighed and went back to helping chop vegetables. Under Barbatos’ tutelage, A!MC’s cooking ability had increased tenfold, they could now make as many burgers as they wanted without worrying about burning down the kitchen.

Pitying the anxious half-demon, Barbatos sighed. “I cannot confirm nor deny a future where your outfit gets ruined.”

A!MC perked up. “H-huh?”

“I cannot confirm nor deny a future where your outfit gets ruined.”

Quickly understanding what Barbatos was trying to do, A!MC quickly nodded and spent the rest of the cooking time carefully taking note of their surroundings.

“Hey! What’re you guys doin’?” M!MC had managed to get in... damn! Everyone must have been putting their best efforts in keeping Solomon away from the kitchen and forgot about M!MC...

“We’re just finishing up, M!MC,” Barbatos had on his ‘oh no...’ smile. “We don’t need any help.”

“Really? You guys sure?”

“Why are you so interested?” A!MC asked.

“Lucifer said that idle hands are the devil’s playthings and that I should go look for something productive to do.” M!MC huffed. “Very ironic phrase.”

“F-fine, I guess you can...” A!MC searched for the least destructive task they could give. “Take the utensils and set the table.”

M!MC gave them a mock salute and grabbed the utensils, as they turned to leave, they knocked a large bowl of chopped fruit over, sending the fruit pieces flying.

Remembering Barbatos’ prediction, A!MC didn’t bother to try and stop the fruit from falling, they only grabbed the nearest big plate they could find and shielded their outfit from harm. The fruit splattered harmlessly against the shield.

“Whoops... my bad. You alright, A!MC?” M!MC asked as A!MC inspected their outfit.

“Y-yes actually...” A!MC turned to Barbatos, who was already getting the cleaning supplies.

“Thank you!” A!MC whispered.

Barbatos smiled and nodded. “You’re very welcome, A!MC.”

Barbatos now has two sorta-children. A!MC and Luke!

M!MC means well, I swear! He just shouldn’t be allowed in a cooking environment!

The Cousin That Your Mom Points at and Goes “Look at Him, He Helps With the Dishes, Be More Like Him.” (Simeon)

Oh man... time for some more embarrassing stories.

“Asmo was the most adorable child, it’s a shame he was such a troublemaker...”

“Really? My dad?”

“What about mine?”

“I think you can guess.”

I cannot comment on Simeon’s help with flying lessons because I refuse to Headcanon what Simeon’s wings look like until canon gives us a GLIMMER. LIKE SERIOUSLY SOLMARE IM CURIOUS-

I have a feeling the children were quite curious as well.

“What do you think his wings look like?” M!MC asked A!MC as the two peered around the corner of one of the hallways in Purgatory Hall.

“I bet they’re super nice. But besides that...” A!MC leaned over and squinted. “Why is Simeon writing with a pen and pencil? He’s writing a book... shouldn’t he use a computer?”

“Bold of you to assume he knows how to use a computer.” M!MC snickered.

A!MC frowned. “Don’t be mean... I’m sure he knows how...”

Simeon picked up his DDD and took a picture of his face, seemingly by accident, with the flash on, causing him to drop the phone in surprise.

“Probably...”

The two surveyed their angel friend like two wildlife documenters, here we see, the Simeon, not in his natural habitat, surrounded by confusing technology...

“Do you think if we scare him his wings might pop out in surprise?” M!MC wondered aloud, A!MC shrugged.

“Maybe... but I don’t think we should bother him...” A!MC whispered. “He looks busy.”

“What are you two doing?”

It took literally every bit of willpower for the two half demons to not scream in absolute terror at the sudden interruption.

Ah... it was just Solomon... in an apron... Solomon... in cooking clothes...

Oh no.

“Spying on Simeon?” Solomon asked.

“N-no...” A!MC giggled nervously. “Just crouching casually in this hallway...”

“...smooth, A!MC.” M!MC rolled their eyes.

“Well, it’s great that you two are here, I made lunch!”

A!MC and M!MC looked at each other in pure horror, they needed to get out of there!

“Uh- um... we’d love to but...” M!MC looked around frantically before just pointing at a random spot behind Solomon. “LOOK! A DISTRACTION!”

A!MC and M!MC ran out of there as fast as their legs could carry them. Finding out if Simeon had wings was not worth being poisoned. Not at all...

Good ol’ Simeon... Mr. Cristopher Peugeot on the other hand- M!MC had some questions for him.

“TSL is literally the most popular book series ever, does that mean you’re completely loaded?”

“Oh, no I’m not, I don’t have any use for human world money in the Celestial Realm. All the profits go to charity.”

“...Dude really?”

“That’s nice of you, Simeon!”

“You didn’t keep any of it..?”

Wait... Who the Hell Are You..? (Solomon)

So A!MC basically has three dads; Fabulous-dad, butler-dad, and wizard-dad!

“So you just... have capes lying around?”

“Yes, would you like a cape?”

“Okay if they don’t take the cape I want it.”

Solomon shows up to RAD with his nails painted different wacky styles every week, courtesy of A!MC.

Though- the unholy combination that is M!MC and Solomon is feared by all.

“Road work ahead?”

“Uh, yeah I sure hope it does.”

Solomon and M!MC’s rampant quoting of vines elicited another glare from Lucifer.

Despite Solomon having literally been alive since the seven rulers of hell were angels, he had kept up with pop culture fairly decently. Decently enough that M!MC had someone that wasn’t Levi to bounce memes off.

“Pff...” M!MC suppressed a laugh at a seemingly normal water bottle advertisement. “Enslaved moisture.”

“I’m not going crazy, right Simeon? You’re hearing this too?” Lucifer tiredly turned to the angel, who shook his head.

“This is just the tip of the iceberg. Solomon quacked at M!MC earlier and they lost their minds laughing about it.” Simeon shrugged, unbothered by the sorcerer and the half demon’s rampant meme-ing behind them.

Lucifer on the other hand, was quite bothered. Incredibly bothered, if you will. “If you two don’t shut up right now I’m going to-”

“Quick! We must abscond!” Solomon turned and heelied away, followed by M!MC. The shoes that Mammon bought to replace the ones lost during the casino incident were apparently heelies as well...

The day was saved when a rock jammed one of Solomon’s wheels and he slammed face first into the concrete. Yikes... that had to hurt.

A!MC had fun glow in the dark bandaids for Solomon to patch up his face. Even though he he could heal himself with magic, he let A!MC do what they wanted because they were just too adorable to say no to.

Asmo has pictures

The Cousin Squad (tm)

(Luke, L!MC, A!MC, and M!MC)

Ah yes, the bab squad. The most adorable group in the Devildom. Surrender your candy immediately or face destruction.

M!MC teases the crap out of Luke, and A!MC tries to stop it, but L!MC is the one who manages to actually make M!MC stop.

Only L!MC gets to pick on the smol angel. GOT IT?!

A!MC and Luke are already baking buddies because of butler-dad so they get along swimmingly.

Poor Luke’s the victim of many of M!MC’s shenanigans.

Luke: Are you sure this is safe, M!MC?

M!MC (about to put mentos into the bottle of coke Luke is holding): No.

L!MC and A!MC get along really well, being honest, everyone loves A!MC.

A!MC makes sure L!MC gets some sleep because they don’t want their cousin picking up on Lucifer’s habit of living off of coffee and coffee alone. L!MC doesn’t get it but they’re very grateful anyway.

M!MC and A!MC were friends from the start. Well... M!MC decided they were friends right from the start and A!MC did not have the ability to fight the power of friendship.

M!MC: You are being befriended. Please do not resist.

Since M!MC is great and amazing like their pop, they took it upon themselves to be the friend that speaks up when A!MC is too nervous to do so.

M!MC and L!MC? Lucifer and Mammon 2 electric boogaloo. Sorta.

L!MC and M!MC bicker all the time but the babs bounce back from their fights way easier.

One minute they’re at each other’s throats and the next they’re showing each other memes.

“There’s no escaping this.”

Lucifer stood between M!MC and the door... their one way ticket to freedom...

“You need to go to the dentist.”

The entire HOL plus the Purgatory Hall crew were getting ready to go visit the dentist to get their teeth cleaned. It was the time of the year that Mammon dreaded most... and his child felt the same way.

“My teeth are fine! Lemme stay home! I’ll hold down the fort with dad!” M!MC smiled and nodded as enthusiastically as they could, but even the most unobservant person couldn’t miss the sweat beading on their forehead.

“Beel.” Lucifer snapped his fingers and before M!MC could do anything Beel had thrown them over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Don’t worry M!MC, the dentist isn’t that scary.” Beel tried to assure them. By the way M!MC was still kicking and screaming, they were not convinced.

“Y-yeah kiddo, suck it up! Don’t be a baby! I’m just gonna take my car there-”

“MAAAAAAMOOOON?!”

“YIKES!”

Lucifer had the important task of keeping a hold of Mammon as the very large group made their way to the dentist’s office.

A devious little idea popped into L!MC’s head as they all sat down in the waiting room. They began to hum a familiar little tune.

“She said be a deeeentiiiist~ a dentist!” L!MC sang to M!MC, who’s attempts to escape increased tenfold after hearing the song.

A!MC began to hum along, not seeming to notice the commotion going on next to them.

“Son be a deeentiiiiiist~ people will pay you for causing them PAIN! She said be a deeentiiiiiist~”

Belphie perked up and smiled deviously as he realized what L!MC was doing, he began to sing along as well. The three were a veritable choir of terror to poor M!MC. Mammon did not understand his child’s terror and was more unnerved by what a great team Belphie and L!MC made.

Satan rolled his eyes and tried to focus on his book, Asmo was absorbed in his magazine, Levi was having a very in depth conversation with the fish in the aquarium, Simeon and Solomon chatted about school, and Luke was stuck watching the train wreck go down.

Thankfully, it was halted by Lucifer. “L!MC, A!MC, Belphegor, stop tormenting M!MC with show tunes.”

“You would have made a good dentist in another life, Lucifer,” Belphie cooed. “You know what they say, the only difference between a dentist and a sadist is that one has newer magazines.”

Asmo grimaced at his magazine. “Is it the sadist? Because I’m reading a magazine from 1843...”

The conversation was interrupted by one of the dental hygienists coming into the waiting room and saying that Mammon was up first. The Avatar of Greed’s final escape attempt was foiled by Satan (not even looking up from his book) clotheslining him.

Thirty minutes later, Mammon emerged from the forbidden dentist room, with the look of trauma in his eyes and eating a lollipop.

One by one, the group went in, A!MC took it upon themselves to try and make the rapidly panicking Luke feel better.

“It won’t be too scary, in the human world dentists are usually very nice.” A!MC smiled encouragingly.

“I-I’m sure that’s true but...” Luke looked around. “We aren’t in the human world...”

Asmo skipped back in and flashed a blinding grin to the group. “Absolutely perfect, no flaws! It’s your turn, A!MC!”

“If you die I get to say I told ya so!” M!MC shouted as A!MC walked into the dentist’s room.

They did not in fact, die because of the dentist. A!MC walked out and gave a thumbs up. “The dentist said they had never seen a kid with such perfect teeth.”

“That’s my baby!” Asmo chirped.

“M!MC, you’re up.” A!MC and Beel had to practically drag the poor kid out of the room and into the dentist area of doom.

“GO BE A DEEEEEENTIIIIIIST!” Belphie and L!MC shouted one last time as the doors shut. Wow, what dickheads...

Mammon probably would have tried to save his poor little bugger, but he was in the middle an impromptu therapy session with Simeon over the scary scraping dentist knife thingie.

Beel was the last to go, and he walked out of the dentist’s room with his face covered in blood, the dentist walked out after him, missing a hand.

“You tasted like toothpaste.” Beel sighed. “Not good.”

“Don’t worry,” The dentist said to Luke, who looked like he was about to pass out. “My hand will grow back in about four to five minutes.”

Luke, still terrified, nodded. L!MC patted him on the shoulder.

“Anyway, almost all of you are fine, but I have to recommend M!MC to the orthodontist.” The dentist flipped through their notepad one-handed. “Their secondary set of fangs are coming out crooked and need to be corrected with braces immediately.”

M!MC sat calmly for a moment, then attempted to sprint out the door. “NO NO NO NO NO!” One of the dental hygienists grabbed them by the back of their shirt and halted their escape.

“Sucks to be you.” L!MC smirked.

“And L!MC needs to fix their cross bite, braces are a strong possibility.”

The colour drained from L!MC’s face as the news dawned upon them. “Pardon, but what exactly are you talking about..?”

“Your top jaw and bottom jaw aren’t properly lined up.” The dentist explained. “It will lead to problems later if it’s not fixed now.”

Lucifer rubbed his temples and sighed. “L!MC, if you try and run away I swear...”

L!MC stiffened and shook their head. “I’m not some coward, I’m not running away. Just... what exactly are you going to do to my mouth?”

The dentist pulled up a few pictures of the braces and explained what would be done. L!MC nodded, and turned to their father with a big smile on their face.

“It won’t be so bad, mind if I go to the bathroom before I get the mold for my teeth made?”

Lucifer nodded and almost audibly sighed in relief. He basked in the glory of having a child that wasn’t afraid of the dentist and faced their fears like an adult-

L!MC sprinted past the dentist’s office, they had busted out of the bathroom window.

“...Beel.”

“Yep.”

A few minutes later, Beel returned with a completely irate L!MC who was screaming their demands to be put down and be allowed to run for the hills. Taking advantage of the distraction, M!MC ran for the door again, only for Belphie to tap them on the forehead.

M!MC collapsed into a snoring heap on the floor.

“FATHER! DON’T MAKE ME DO THIS!” L!MC practically screamed as they tried to wrestle themselves out of Beel’s bear hug.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “L!MC, calm yourself down. It’s just braces.”

“AS EVERYONE HERE AS MY WITNESSES I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS! NEVER!”

The half-demons in need of braces were dragged right back into the dentist’s area... poor fools.

“They’ll be okay... right?” Luke asked.

“Of course they will be. It’s just braces.” Simeon patted Luke on the head. “They’ll both be fine.”

The scream that came from down the hall right after Simeon said that did not reassure anyone.

“Hey,” Mammon piped up. “How much do braces cost?”

“From what I know about dental procedures,” Satan rubbed his chin. “A few thousand Grimm.”

“Mammon if you try and run for that door I will cut your credit card into a thousand pieces.” Lucifer growled.

Overall, it was a fairly average trip to the dentist. 0/10 would not recommend. A few weeks later L!MC and M!MC were fitted with their mouth prisons- I mean braces, and the two cousins bonded over their horrific mouth pain...

Seriously- braces suck.

——————————————

So! Those are the headcanons! Four and a half whole parts... phew... To all the people who enjoyed this series, thank you so so much for reading! You guys have been so super nice!

Fret not, I plan on writing more for this universe! From what I know about season 2 of Obey Me things will get... interesting. Stay tuned for more! Or don’t, I can’t force you.

...or can I?

[felassan]

Dragon Age development insights from David Gaider - PART 1

This information came from DG on a recent SummerfallStudios Twitch stream where he gave developer commentary while Liam Esler played DAO, specifically the mage Origin. I transcribed it in case there’s anyone who can’t watch the stream (for example due to connection/tech limitations, data, time constraints, or personal accessibility reasons). A lot of it is centered on DAO, but there’s also insights into DA2 and DAI. Some of it is info which is known having been out there already, some of it is new, and all of it imo was really interesting! It leaps from topic to topic as it’s a transcript of a conversational format. It’s under a cut due to length.

Note on how future streams in this series are going to work: The streams are going to be every Friday night. Most likely, every week, they’re going to play DAO. Every second week it will be Liam and DG and they’ll be doing more of this developer commentary style/way of doing things, talking about how the game was made as they play through, covering quirks and quibbles etc. Every other week, it will be Liam and a guest playing a different campaign in DAO, and Liam will be talking with them about how DA changed their lives or led them into game development, to get other peoples’ thoughts on the series (as it’s now been like 10 years). Some of these guests we may know, some we won’t. When other DA devs are brought on, it’ll be in the DG sessions. They hope to have PW and Karin Weekes on at some point. Sometime they hope to have an episode where they spend the whole time going through the lore.

(Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)

[wording and opinions DG’s, occasionally LE’s; paraphrased]

DAO’s development actually finished up around April 2009. They then put it on ice for around six months before release. Human Noble is DG’s favorite Origin. It’s one of the ones he wrote. He also wrote the Dalish Origin as well (Tamlen is his doing ;__;). DAO’s temp name during development was Chronicles. DG has never played any of the DA games after they were released. He played them pre-release loads of times, when they were half-broken or incomplete etc. This stream is his first time seeing everything played after completion.

NWN: Hordes of the Underdark was the first game where DG was a/the lead writer, in charge of other writers, as opposed to a senior writer. It was pretty well-received. In the fall of 2003, BW were just finishing up HotU when James Ohlen came to DG to talk. BW had been having issues during the development of NWN with the IP holder for D&D Wizards of the Coast, so they were interested in starting their own IPs that they would have ownership over (and also for financial reasons). JO said to DG that one of these new IPs would be fantasy and one would be sci-fi. He knew that DG was more fantasy-oriented, and so asked DG if he wanted to take this on. DG was down, and the first thing to figure out was what that fantasy IP was going to be.

JO gave DG an atlas of European history, which he still has, and said that he wanted him to make a fantasy world that is reminiscent of medieval Europe and reminiscent of D&D - “make it like D&D but not, file off the serial numbers really well”. This worked for DG because he was pretty familiar with D&D and there were also lots of things that he didn’t like about it and wanted to change. So DG went off and for the next six months worked on creating a setting, beginning with documentation and the map. This was kinda strange because they had no idea at that time what their story would be. JO was very interested in having a “genetically evil” enemy in the setting (like an equivalent to orcs). DG wasn’t a big fan of this and his initial go at the setting omitted this (i.e. darkspawn were not a thing) and was a lot more realistic. JO insisted on adding them later on.

This period of development wasn’t actually a good process. There were other people who were working on the project who were designing the combat side. Looking back, DG feels that they should have put their heads together a lot sooner. The combat designers had various ideas for various prestige classes and subclasses, and DG would be like “these are nowhere in the setting [lore]”. He tried his best to add a few of them after the fact, which is why we see things like DA’s version of the bard archetype. The combat designers and artists originally had a vision in mind of a game that was much more along the lines of the type of fantasy you’d find in the Conan the Barbarian world - bare-chested barbarians, sorceresses that show a lot of skin, a grimdark world with barbarian hordes. They were just assuming that’s what it was going to be. At this point in time DG had never thought, “Oh, maybe I’m responsible for communicating my ideas to them” - he’d never done this role before and was just told to go create the world. He created world-building documentation and would send out emails saying “I’m making this documentation, please go ahead and take a look”, not learning until later on that nobody outside of the writing team really likes reading such documentation. He learned tricks later on like making the docs more accessible, less dense and wordy, and overall easier to peruse.

There was no real ‘vision holder’ for DA. Mass Effect did a much better job of that. Casey Hudson was the project director and the vision holder for ME, and he had the power to enforce a set vision of what was and was not ME. ME therefore ended up having a bit more of a coherent vision. DG was in essence the vision holder for DA, but he didn’t really have the authority to enforce it on the artists. The DA teams ended up spending a good 3.5 - 4 years of the ~6 years of DAO dev time going in circles, not exactly sure what they were going to make, the various people working on it having different ideas of what ‘kind’ of fantasy they were going to make. The writing team were leaning towards LoTR; the artists were leaning towards Conan; at one point one of the project directors was leaning towards a point-and-click Diablo-style action adventure; and nobody was overriding anybody else.

The fans who hang out on the forums and in similar places have a very different idea about what kind of game they like and want to play versus the telemetry BW get from the public in general. As an example, fans on the forums tend towards playing non-humans and feeling that playing as a human is boring. Forum-polls reflected that, but BW’s general public-telemetry shows that around 75-80% of the playerbase played a human in DAO. Elves were at 15% and dwarves 5%. In contrast, in the core/forum-based fanbase, the human figure dropped down to 30%.

DG originally wanted Zevran to be a gay romance (he has talked about this before). He asked JO if he could do that pretty early on, thinking of Jade Empire which had same-gender romance options which were really popular. BW were surprised about that, and DG had no idea that the JE team were going to do this. For DAO, he had an idea for an assassin character. He had been reading about how the CIA and KGB would often recruit gay men to be their assassins, as they didn’t tend to have family ties. DG thought this was really interesting. JO was cool with the idea on a conceptual level, but thought that the work that would end up going into it would be better served if those characters could be romanced by both male and female PCs. Zevran and Leliana weren’t intended to be bi, they were “bi out of convenience”, but at the time these sorts of things (representation and such) didn’t enter into the equation as much as it does today. DG wrote Zevran in his head as being romanceable by men.

DG would ask the hair artists, “Why all the mullets?”, because he never understood that, and he’d get “a sort of shrug response”, and an indication that “it’s easier to model, I guess?” Having hair which is loose, in the face, in locks, coming over the shoulders etc wasn’t really supported at this point by the tech or the engine. Hence, they ended up with like five different versions of mullets. On the subject of the engine, for the first half of development they were using an upgraded version of the Aurora engine from NWN, and it was not good. Several years in they decided to switch. Trent Oster was in charge at the time of making a new proprietary BW engine. At the time it wasn’t ready yet, but the DA team decided to grab it, use it and hammer it into the DA engine. That engine had “so many little weird quirks”, like lighting on skin not working properly and looking bad, and one of the issues was hair. It was supposed to be BW’s proprietary engine but it really wasn’t optimized for RPGs and didn’t include a dialogue system. They had to custom-build the conversation system. (At the time Trent didn’t think BW should be doing RPGs anymore, which is a whole other story of its own). DG recalls programmers complaining about things in the engine that weren’t ready for ‘prime-time’. Even compared to games released concurrently, DAO’s graphics were a bit dated.

For the worldbuilding, they had an internal wiki and they kept everything on there. They ended up with a lot of legacy documentation on there very quickly. Eventually they solved this by hiring an editor whose sole job it was to wrangle the documentation. DG started work on the setting in the same manner in which he’d embark on starting a homebrew - ‘so like, first, here’s a map, oh, I like this name, vague ideas, a paragraph on each major nation, a rough timeline of the history, expanding, and it just growing from there’. After about six months, they brought on other writers, and by then he had around 50 pages of documentation. This 50 pages was a minute amount compared to the amount they had generated at the time of release. Originally, they weren’t sure where in the world specifically the story would take place, so DG made sure to seed potential and brewing conflicts throughout Thedas. They settled quite quickly on the new Blight starting in Ferelden. Once they established that, the writers went to town on taking Ferelden specifically and blowing it up detail-wise. Jennifer Hepler was in charge of the dwarves and Orzammar. Mary Kirby was on Fereldan customs and traditions.

The first version of the setting was more grounded in realism, almost like a post-fantasy. The dragons and griffons were extinct and a lot of the things that were thought to be fantastical were thought to be over with. During development, they started clawing these things back. They brought back dragons because the game was named Dragon Age (lol). DG was approached like, “Hey, we named the game DA, can you bring back dragons and weave them into the story more powerfully?” Wynne’s writer Sheryl Chee had a bit of an obsession with griffons and was often like ‘omg, griffons :D’, and this is the origin of Wynne’s dialogue with the Warden about griffons.

KotOR was the first time BW had tried to do a game that was fully voiced-over. For KotOR, BW sent the work of casting, direction and so on down to another studio in California called Technicolor. BW had little say in the process then and when they got it back, “it was what it was”. By the time they got to DA and the first ME, BW had a good system down for recording and VO had become an important thing in games at the time. BW are really one of the premieres for this, a lot of actors really like acting on BW games as they get a lot of space to act where they wouldn’t normally be able to do so otherwise. DG has learned a lot from Caroline Livingstone on how to encourage the best performance out of an actor. For DAO, DG worked together with the various lead designers and Caroline to decide on the auditions, casting etc. This was one of DG’s favorite things to do.

Gideon Emery as Fenris, GDL as Solas and Eve Myles as Merrill were times where DG had written the character and then went to Caroline and said “I have an actor in mind for them, can you check it out?” These were specific times where he was able to secure the actor he wanted. This didn’t always work out, for example there are times when actors aren’t interested or have no time due to scheduling conflicts or were too expensive etc. Eve and GDL were DG’s roommate Cori’s idea. Cori was a big fan of Torchwood/the actors from Torchwood, and worked as an editor at BW for a long time. Gideon was DG’s idea after playing FF12. For DAO, DG didn’t have any specific ideas in terms of actors. Casting Morrigan was the longest, most drawn out process.

The Circle went through a whooole process during worldbuilding. Initially, mages in the game weren’t supposed to have any “fighting magic”. The restrictions were originally such that in the lore, they didn’t teach mages that. Mages weren’t taught any magic that could kill people, only ‘indirect’ forms of magic that could support others. However, [during what sounds like] playtesting it was asked “Why can’t I cast a fireball? I just want to cast a fireball”, so the writers had to go back and rework how magic in the lore worked completely.

Flemeth was originally going to be voiced by Shohreh Aghdashloo, and she was totally on-board, but unfortunately because of DAO’s development delays, she was unable to attend the new recording time as she had a conflict in her schedule (she was filming House of Sand and Fog). Shoreh was quite disappointed about this and her family had been so excited that she was going to be in a video game. When the movie was finished, Shoreh came back to BW and let them know that she was still available, and this is how she ended up in ME2. For a while they were trying to find an actress with an accent that authentically mirrored Shoreh’s. Out of the blue around this time, Claudia Black’s agent sent BW an audition tape of her. At the time Claudia hadn’t done any games but wanted to get into it. The tape was of Claudia doing a beat poet rendition of Baby Got Back. DG still has this tape. DG was a big fan of Farscape and on listening to the tape, it clicked right away in his head that Claudia would be perfect for Morrigan.

The Fade ended up being a big irritation for the writers. They wanted the PC to be able to assume different forms and such while in there. A lot of this stuff proved too difficult for the combat designers to work out, and so it ended up getting changed a lot. They had a hard time coming up with gameplay that could work in the Fade. The mage Origin is DG’s least favorite of the Origin stories, as he’s really dubious about the Fade section in it. It didn’t work out like how they had pictured it in their heads. By the time they got to DAI, that’s when the Fade really looks like how the writers first described/envisioned it. By this point the artists were more keen to give it a more specific feel. DAO was made at a time when ‘brown is realistic’ was a prevailing thing in games dev.

The experience of a mage in the world isn’t represented or conveyed very well to the player when the player is a mage. The experience of the player when they’re playing a mage or have a mage in their party doesn’t really match up with how the world lore tells them how dangerous mages can be - for example, how they can lose control and so on, we never really have an example of a PC mage struggling with being taken over by a demon. This was originally supposed to be a subplot in DA2 for mage Hawkes, in one of the last cuts. In Act 2, mage Hawke was originally slowly being tricked by a demon in their head that they thought was real, only to realize at the last minute. Mouse the Pride demon in the mage Origin is the only time in the entire series that they really ever properly demonstrated how demons can fuck with [PC] mages. Also, PC templars were originally supposed to have a permanent lyrium addiction that they needed to ‘feed’, but this was scrapped as the system designers weren’t keen on it and felt that it was essentially handicapping the player. 

Mages were originally also not supposed to be able to deal with pure lyrium (it would ‘overload’ them). There is a plot where mage PCs run around touching lyrium nodes to refill their mana bars. On this DG was like “Wtf is this?” The designers said that it works, and DG said “but it flies in the face of the lore”. This instance is an example of how the DA team was working where the various departments (writers, artists, designers etc) all had their own ideas about how the game and its world would work and never overrode each other (see above). DG feels that DAO is a little contradictory in that way. It’s only after the game came out that a lot of the people on the team really “bought into” what they’d put forward. This got easier as they went on, with people involved buying then into the things that make Dragon Age, Dragon Age. At one point, not everyone on the team was even aware of those things.

DG relates that originally, they would ask the artists, “Ok, can we get a village?” and said village once created would be quite generic and non-specific to DA. The writers would try to relate how things are in the DA world and list things that would be found in a village like this specific to the DA world, and the artists either didn’t read it or had their own ideas (DG isn’t sure which), and nobody was around to tell them not to do that and that they should do it differently. Everyone having their own ideas like this is why we ended up getting something that is this sort of “cobbled together half-Conan half-LotR mish-mash”, and after a while this sort of became DA’s “thing”.

Initially, BW had concepts drawn up for a lot more different creatures. After they went in circles for those years and consequently ran out of time to do all the models, they had to cut these concepts down more and more. Demons were among the ones that were the first to go (this is why we have situations like a bereskarn as the Sloth Demon in the mage Origin). The original concepts for things like spirits of Valor and Sloth demons were really good. Early on, JO made a list of D&D creatures that he liked. He picked the ones that they were thinking of doing, sent them to DG and said to make a “DA version of this”. For example, D&D succubi essentially became Desire Demons. Desire Demons were originally patterned off Sandman, neither male nor female yet really alluring, acting more like a genie and trying to ferret out mortals’ inner desires (which are not necessarily sexual in nature), without being overtly sexual. The artists’ version came back and that was basically the model seen in-game. The writers were like “What is this, this is nothing like the description?” and the artists responded that on the list from JO, it was included, in that you had to click on “succubus” to get to the Desire Demon description, so they had just read “succubus” and done their version of a succubus. The artists did loads of great work, but this was one of the instances were DG was like “???” By then, it was too late to change it. The writers were able to encourage them to make Desire Demons a little more fearsome, so that made it in at least.

The mage Origin was one of the more contentious Origin stories. It had like 4 different versions written of it over time. It was often the case that BW would hire someone, and writing an Origin story was their first test. Three different writers came in and wrote a version of the mage Origin and those versions just didn’t work. Finally they passed it to Sheryl Chee and she wrote it. The Origins were the parts of the game in general that were written/rewritten the most often. There were several others that got written that they discarded. 

Duncan was slated for death from Day 1. When DG writes a story, the thing he does first is pick out the big emotional beats that he wants, such as deaths. He decides these ahead of time and the stuff in-between comes later and is more often changed. Oghren was also originally supposed to die, but this ended up getting cut. DG related a story of how Oghren came to be: At the time, there was a phase JO went through when he thought everything had a formula that it could be done by. One of these ‘creative forumulas’ was that all such IPs had a two-word name that they’re known by, such as Star Wars, Star Trek, Dragonlance (being Dragon-Lance). This is how ‘DA’ and ‘ME’ came to be. One of the formulas he wanted to implement was how to distill the ‘comedy character’, like Minsc or HK-47. These characters were very popular with the fans and JO was certain that there was a way to figure this out to create one for DA. At the time, DG argued with him a lot about this. JO insisted it could be done. DG was originally supposed to write this character but ended up not doing so. JO came up with a list of comedic archetypes and had DG write a blurb about what kind of character each could be. These were then sent out to the team who voted on which was their favorite. This process eventually resulted in an archetype basically called ‘The Buffoon’ (think Homer Simpson or Peter Griffin, the kind of guy people laugh at because he’s such an oaf).

At this point ‘The Buffoon’ wasn’t named or made a dwarf yet. JO came to DG to write him, but DG said there was a problem which is that he hates this archetype. Homer and Peter are characters that he despises. DG is a professional writer, but this was comedy (outside of his areas of strength), and he felt the best he would be able to do is write a character who makes fun of this archetype and lampshade that. Comedy is something that has to come from within the writer. Oghren was given to someone else, and he ended up getting rewritten again anyway. By the time they were working on Awakening, DAO had not yet come out, and the assumption prior to the game going out was that Oghren was still going to be the most popular character from among the followers. The comedic character that ended up being the most popular along these lines was Alistair, which was interesting as he wasn’t intended as a comedic character, “so shows what we know”. DG was dubious that Oghren was going to be popular, because “he was kind of pathetic, honestly”, but that was the thinking at the time. Thinking he would be well-loved is why he was in Awakening.

On Alistair, any character DG writes is going to be sarcastic. At the time DG had made it a sort of personal challenge to recreate Joss Whedon’s dialogue patterns in his characters. Alistair was a sort of mish-mash of Xander from Buffy and maybe Mal from Firefly. DG wanted to see if he could do it, so Alistair was kind of quippy and self-deprecating. DG never really considered this to be Alistair’s main personality feature, but when other writers wrote him, they often had him doing this, as they liked the trait so much, and so this is how Alistair ended up as he did.

On dwarves, the dwarves being cut off from the Fade is very much baked into who the dwarves are as a race. There’s a specific reason why. This has been hinted at so far and it’s likely to come up in the future. DG had various ideas for some things that he wanted to include with the races or the way the world works etc. Some of them ended up never happening or some are mentioned only as part of the lore (templar lyrium addiction never coming up in gameplay is an example of this). Dwarven history and the nature of the dwarves is one of the things that survived pretty well though. DG calls Jennifer Hepler “mistress of the dwarves” and says that she did a really detailed, amazing breakdown of their history. After Jennifer left it was Mary Kirby, and DG feels that they did a good job of maintaining how dwarves were, in terms of both how they’re often presented in fantasy and yet also quite different in DA. Orzammar is one of DG’s favorite plots all together. You can really tell that Jennifer Hepler really enjoyed the dwarves and brought a lot of love to that plot.

DG draws a distinction between DA fans and the unpleasant people who harassed Jennifer Hepler.

They managed to keep the Tranquil in. There was a while there where they were going to be cut. At the same time, DG regrets that they couldn’t solve the making of the player more aware of how mages are dangerous, thing. Players could make a cogent argument like “they’re not that dangerous, look at me [mage PC]” and the writers were like “well... yeah, that is fair”. It was a case of showing one thing and the player experience of it being another. DG feels that this made the templars come off worse than they are. DG feels that they are being massively unfair and too extreme in their approach to the problem, but the problem itself is a real thing. He feels that there’s some merit/truth in the argument that mages are oppressed, but he looks at it more like an issue like gun control rather than as treatment of oppressed people, saying that we don’t have an example in real life of oppressed people who can explode into demons and cast fireballs and so on.

There are some funny pronunciations that worked their way into DA, and the reason for a lot of them is as follows: the writers had to create a pronunciation guide for VO, because otherwise you end up with a lot of inconsistencies. (Some did still slip through). The guide was online, and if you clicked on a word, an audio file for it would play. Jennifer Hepler was in charge of this and did a great job, but has a really strong NY accent, and in some cases the ‘NY-ness’ of her pronunciation endearingly worked itself into things (the way Arlathan is sometimes said is an example of where this happened sometimes).

Sometimes the writers trying to communicate the “hotness” of a character to the artists didn’t go smoothly. The writers would sometimes say things like, ok, this character is a romance, they need to be hot, and the designs would come back looking “like Burt Reynolds”, and the writers would be like “???” And then a character that wasn’t particularly intended to be hot, as in that wasn’t mentioned at all in the descriptions of them, would come back “accidentally hot”, and the writers would be like “Why couldn’t you have done this when we were asking for a character that was meant to be hot”, and the artists would be like “What?? He’s not hot”. And this became a thing (lmao - this discussion was prompted by DG being asked “Was Duncan meant to be that hot?”, for context). Some of the artists were so paranoid about their [in]ability to judge actually-hot characters that when it was time to pick an appearance, like for Alistair, they gathered up all the women at BioWare, and DG (“resident gay”) into a room to show them an array of faces and bodies like “Is this hot? Is this hot?” DG and co would sit there like, “How can you not tell? Is this a straight man thing?!” Anyways, this is why oftentimes we ended up with characters who are accidentally hot.

Over time, the writers realized that the way they communicated to artists needed to be managed better. The words they would use would have different connotations to them the writers, than what they did to the artists. For example, for Anders’ design in DA2, he was supposed to be “a little haggard”. When DG thinks of haggard, he thinks ‘a little tired, mussed hair, looking like you’ve been through some shit’. But the artists based on that produced concepts with super sunken cheeks, looking like he’d been terribly starved. The writers needed to develop a specific vocabulary for communicating with the artists, as artists think in terms of how something looks, but writers are thinking in terms of what the character “is”. Anders’ description talked about his history a lot, and the one visual-type word that jumped out was “haggard” due to its visual connotations. “A lot it came down to the writers being up their/our own asses.”

When they got to DAI, they had figured out that the way to get best results on this front was /not/ to have the writer go off and develop a long description and pre-conceived notion of what the character looked like in their head. In such scenarios artists don’t feel that they have much to contribute to the process or an ability to put their own stamp on who this character is and make them interesting to them (the best, most interesting characters are when people at all stages of the pipeline properly get to feed into it). They learned that the better solution was to bring the artists in earlier, and to give them little blurbs, and not name the character but give them an ‘archetype’-sort of ‘name’. For example, Dorian was “the rockstar mage”, “cool”, “Freddie Mercury”. The writers wouldn’t be sure that a particular concept would ‘hit’, so at this stage they would offer an array of options and sit the artist down and walk them through the concepts. The artists would then provide a bunch of sketches and it would go back and forth, with both taking part in the character creation process together. For the first two games, the writers were “really hogging” this process to themselves. They got better at not doing this and better at communicating with the artists by DAI.

There were a lot of arguments about how mages in DAO had a lot of specific lore words like “Harrowing”, “phylactery”, “Rite of Tranquility” etc. There was concern that this would be too confusing for players to understand and that it was too complicated. DG says that thankfully he put his foot down and pushed for this stuff to be kept. A lot of fans assume that as lead writer DG had all this influence, way more influence than he could possibly exert on a team. He wasn’t even a lead, he was a sub-lead, under a lead designer. He only had so much say. If the lead designer or lead artist wanted to do something differently, often there was not much he could do. Hence he had to pick his battles carefully, choose the important ones to fight. The mage vocabulary thing was one of these.

Templar Greagoir’s name is pronounced “Gregor” and it comes from a place in Alberta near where DG lived.

Codex entries are usually one of the last things that get done in a project like this, and so all of that kind of textual lore comes in super late and is super punchy as by then the writers have written so much and are exhausted. They had to find a way to make this process cute or interesting or fun for themselves, which is why a lot of entries are quite fun to read. Sometimes a writer would make a joke for banter [irl], and it would end up making it into an entry.

Only Morrigan and Duncan got unique body models in DAO. The companions all have custom-morphed heads but not custom-morphed bodies (Morrigan not included here). This is why every model has a necklace or a collar right at the point where they had to be attached to be a body. These sometimes used assets that couldn’t be used by the PC but were not unique to that character. Duncan probably got a unique model because he was in a lot of marketing/promotional material. Qunari were originally conceived as having horns.

Most people didn’t even finish DAO once (public telemetry again here), only approximately 20-25% actually did. The devs try not to read too much into this kind of thing, but the telemetry does tell them where a lot of people stop playing the game permanently (they call these “drop-off points”). One of these points in DAO is the Fade during Broken Circle. Sometimes when people interpret this data they involve self-serving biases, but it was generally accepted that the Fade there was too long, too complex, not interesting enough, etc. [source]

[Part 2]

[Part 3]

[Part 4]

[Part 5]

[Part 6]

[‘Insights into DA dev from the Gamers For Groceries stream’ transcript]

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part II

© sailorhyunjinz 2021; Rights Reserved

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!Hyunjin x fem!model!reader, model!bestfriend!Felix, barista!Seungmin, agedup!straykids, fluff, character driven story, stranger to lovers, summer!au, mentions of death/passing away, mentions of injury, slight angst, mentions of self doubt, mentions of bad economy. 

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 4.6 k 

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: lmao if anyone is wondering why the cafe is open at night; it actually exists! most commonly found in korea but hey this fic doesnt have a set place so just imagine that it’s a cafe that works 24/7 ALRIGHTY? 

If you have any feedback I’m more than happy to receive it! <3

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

“What do you think this means? Why does he want to contact me?”

You anxiously paced around the living room, Felix sitting on the small grey sofa, his soft brown eyes going from left to right, following your distressed figure.

“Maybe he just wanted to talk to you directly, make it feel more personal you know?”

Felix sounded unsure of his own answer as he tilted his head questioningly, his gaze still glued on you.

“But why does he want to know me personally? Does he do this with every model?” You bit your lip as you thought, stopping hastly before running to the kitchen and grabbing the water bottle from the day of the photoshoot. 

“y/n! What are you even...” Felix abruptly halted his sentence before widening his eyes at your intentions.

“Surely you’re not actually gonna call him?” he asked in surprise.

“I should at least find out what his motive is! I can’t just ignore the poor boy can I?” you held the water bottle tightly in your hand, removing the plastic wrapper with the number scribbled on and observed his delicate handwriting.

“He seems...strange, to say the least. He rarely talks to people during events and is only ever interested in anything that involves his work.” 

Felix knew since he himself was a model. The two of you met during a casting in the earlier years of your career, both being youthful teenagers with dreams and slightly puffy cheeks, babyfat that eventually got away and revealed your hidden features. The day of the casting Felix injured his foot causing him to fall when walking in front of the hawk-eyed judges. Your heart ached when you saw his desperate figure on the cold floor, he was just like everyone else in that frigid casting room, just a youngster with a dream. You passed the audition, smiling as you accepted a blue clipboard with papers from the judges, feeling everyone’s eyes drilling into your back with jealousy. Moments later, after night had fallen over the big city, you found Felix hunched over a small step of stairs meant for the fire escape. 

“H-hey,,,uhm, are you fine?”

You hestitated speaking to the quivering boy, his hands covering his face as tears dripped of his chin. 

“W-what do you care?!” he spat towards you, his attitude making you want to leave but you felt to guilty to do that, after all he was simply upset and not actually mad. 

You inched closer to his cowered body and sat down next to him on the hard stone steps. You looked at him in guilt. You had passed the audition but how were you any better than him? Softly, you put your hand on his shoulder, patting it a couple of times and letting the dark haired boy cry out, his sobs echoing in the dark stairway. He leaned into your touch and you ended up hugging him in silence for what seemed like hours. 

Times change and here he is. Signed to a highly respectable agency and catching flights left to right. Nothing more made you prouder than knowing that he didn’t give up on his dream.

“Felix! He’s not strange... maybe he’s just shy?” you tried to defend Hyunjin but realised how defensive you got over somebody you barely knew.

“Shy? In this line of work?” he furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the white wrapper in your hands. “I’m not sure...what if he’s interested in you in that way?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest upon hearing Felix’s words. 

“You mean r-romantically?” you cleared your throat, feeling butterflies in the depths of your stomach. 

“Well...that will never happen, don’t wanna ruin your career, right y/n?”

Your gaze fell onto the white wrapper in your hand as your heart started beating faster. 

“R-right y/n?” He coughed as you grabbed your phone and started typing in the digits, glancing over at the wrapper and pressing accordingly. 

“Y/n, are you crazy? What if he actually has romatic interests in you? That could ruin both of your careers especially since he’s a world famous photographer that has every girl wrapped around his finger because of his looks.” Felix spoke bitterly, looking at your phone screen and then back at you with heightened eyebrows. 

“I’ll guess I’ll have to find out, Felix” 

“Ok but do that after I leave, I don’t want to hear you talk about him anymore and also be careful. You never know whats brewing on the inside in people like him” he said while rolling his eyes.

“What you wanna eat then bestie?” you laughed as you threw your phone onto the couch and made your way to the pantry. 

♡ 

Hours later Felix was waveing at your from the other of the door, you waved back at the freckled boy, smiling at him. 

“Be careful with that dude!” he yelled as he walked down to the flight of stairs, his voice echoing in the old apartment complex. 

“I will, mom!” you laughed at his cute consideration before shutting the heavy door. 

Silence broke out once the door shut, leaving you alone in the apartment yet again. You dragged your feet on the light laminated floor, making your way to the couch where your phone was buried underneath a multitude of pillows. 

“Where did I put that number”. You searched for it, finding your phone and the wrapper wedged between two seat cushions. Sitting down, you landed with a thump on the soft couch, the blue light from your phone emitting onto your face as you typed in the number yet again. A big lump was situated in your throat, your hands shaking as you sent a message to the number. 

[y/n] Hi! It’s y/n, it was a pleasure working with you. 

You stared at the message you sent before cursing to yourself. 

“Why the fuck did I write that? He’s gonna think that I’m some sort of weirdo, can I ever do anything ri-”

A pling from your phone erupted in the living room, catching you off guard. It’s probably not him, why would he reply so fast?

You were wrong, it was him.

[Hyunjin] Hello! It’s Hyunjin, hope you weren’t too surprised at me leaving my number. I’m just happy that you decided to reply. 

You gulped as you typed. It didn’t seem like he’d ever done something like this before. 

[y/n] No, not at all! Did the pictures turn out well?

[Hyunjin] Oh, you haven’t seen them? 

[y/n] My manager usually shows them on the date of the release...

[Hyunjin] How about this, we meet up and I’ll show you the pictures beforehand. We’ll keep it a secret from your company. 

M-meet up? This soon? A million thoughts passed through your mind in an instant, your mind zoning out while your eyes were glued on the well-lit screen that displayed the messages. You were curious about the photos but also about him. Wanting to know more about the blond boy and his abrupt ways you replied back, fingers shaking while moving over the keyboard.

[y/n] Sure, when and where?

You didn’t have any work to do anyways so why not solve the mystery called Hwang Hyunjin?

[Hyunjin] 2 PM, tomorrow

An adress was attached to the message which led to cafe you used to work at, not to far from your place. You placed your phone beside you and looked up at the white ceiling, sighing heavily. Maybe Felix was right, it’s strange to meet someone you’ve only met once, especially since he’s met countless of models just like you if not even better. The thoughts consumed too much of your energy and you ended up falling asleep on the couch, chest heaving peacefully. 

♡ 

The sudden vibration of your phone woke you up, the sun shining through the window as you grabbed your phone, light straining your eyes. 

[Felix] I’m 100% sure that you messaged that dude, right?

You laughed before typing through squinting eyes, laying down on your back.

[y/n] What if I did? 

[Felix] You’re insane 

[y/n] That’s my charm, Lixie~

Putting the phone away you slowly sat up, looking around the sunlit living room as if you’d never seen it before. Rubbing your weary eyes, you yawned before thinking ‘breakfast!’

Without even taking one step to the kitchen your phone vibrated once again. You lifted your eyebrow at the signal but ignored it for the time being, thinking that’s it’s Felix pestering you about your desicion to talk to Hyunjin. After you made a bowl of porridge and quickly washed up in the bathroom you grabbed the phone, wanting to scroll through your socials but what you saw on your home screen made the spoon of porridge that was on it’s way towards your mouth stop.

[Hyunjin] Slept well?

You’ve met him once and he’s already asking such a question? But something made you believe that this isn’t how he normally is. He’s hiding a type of shyness underneath those bold messages and actions. This Hyunjin isn’t the one that you’ve been described, this is a different Hyunjin. 

Your mind was blank. What do you even reply to that? In search for answers you texted Felix, knowing he wouldn’t give you a good answer but at least some emotional support. 

[y/n] Lixie, what does one reply to the question “Slept well?”

[Felix] You don’t, you pack up your things and you leave.

[y/n] You dickhead

[Felix] That’s my charm y/n~

If you could punch someone through the screen you would punch Felix. Returning back to the message that Hyunjin sent you, you quickly typed something down and sent it. 

[y/n] Yeah, fine! Everything well with you?

[Hyunjin] Yes, it’s fine. See you later then, y/n

The porridge infront of you had cooled down, now being a sloppy mess of oats with a spoon slowly sinking into the substance. You stared at the message before your gaze returned to the breakfast bowl. This wasn’t going to be an easy day. 

♡ 

The clock ticked as your stomach was filling up with butterflies, one by one. 

“This is a casual meeting not a date, y/n” you mumbled as you tapped your foot, standing infront of the multiple racks of clothing in your slightly stuffy walk-in closet. You rarely wore even half of the clothes. Most of the pieces were sent by companies or given to you after photoshoots, this being both a blessing and a curse. 

Your hand gravitated towards a white blouse with puffy sleeves because it reminded you of him. You shook your head wanting to get the thought out of your head. You hated that you cared so much about him but at the same time you knew why. Because he ignited a feeling of longing. A feeling called love. 

Snatching the blouse from it’s hanger you digged through your drawers and fished up a pair of beige colored wide pants. You glanced at the brown watch on your wrist as you stepped into the pants, pulling off your pyjama top in one swift motion before putting on the flowy blouse. You looked in the mirror, combing through your hair with your fingers and reaching for a pair of pearl earrings that rested in a small tray infront of the mirror. Turning around, you observed the shelf that displayed the dozens of shoes in your possession, all while tilting your head and putting on the small pearls. Varnished heels would be good, right? Stretching out your arm to grab the heels, your gaze feel on your watch. As usual, you were going to be late and you hoped with every bit of your mind that Hyunjin wouldn’t find you rude. With the heels on you grabbed your purse, throwing in your keys that were decorated with keychains off all shapes and sizes as you staggered out the door. 

The breeze hit your face as you made your way down the street, the heels clicked against the broad stone sidewalk making both women and men turn their heads. Lucky for you, Hyunjin chose the cafe where you happened to know somebody working at. 

That somebody being your friend Seungmin. 

You see, when you were just starting your career money was an issue. Your family wasn’t well off and when you set out to find your calling in the big city without a stable job your family was worried to say the least. You moved into a small apartment that more looked like a mouse burrow than an apartment. Holding a bag of trash you went down to the lobby of the apartment complex, the trashcan reeking as you lifted the lid and quickly threw in the bag, bending your spine backwards with a disgusted look on your face. Walking back you accidentally knocked down a paper that was resting on a corkboard by just how fast you walked passed. The light yellow paper landed infront of your feet, halting your movements. You picked it up.

« Searching for barista assistent »

The pay wasn’t too bad and neither were the working hours and so you folded the paper and went back into the apartment, smiling as you thought that this was the moment when everything changed. 

And it did. Seungmin became one of your first friends in the city, right after Felix came into your life. You have very fond memories of that cafe. Working late nights with Seungmin, drinking coffee to stay awake through the late hours. 

“What’s your dream, y/n?” Seungmin asked on one of the first days, still not knowing who you were and what your goals in this big city was.

“I-i want to become a model” you muttered underneath your breath, scared that he was going to belittle you and crush your dreams into nothing but fine powder.

“I believe in you, y/n” he said in a low voice, wiping the counter, not making eye contact as you stood on the other side. 

Silence overtook the empty cafe, the low humming of cars on the road being the only noise that was heard before you cleared your throat, looking down at your shoes and leaning against the counter.

“Thank you Seungmin, that means a lot” you said before the silence took over again. 

You swore you could’ve cried right then and there. Hearing those words when being in such a vulnerable situation really did mean a lot to you. His words stuck with you and in every interview where the interviewer asked about what you want to tell to aspiring models you always said those words. “I believe in you.”

The neon pink open sign in the window was brightly lit, the silhouette of people sipping on their lattes and chatting could be seen from the outside of the reminiscent building that was covered in hops. You stepped in, your heels making a loud clicking noise on the dark walnut colored wood flooring.

“How can I hel- y/n!!” Seungmin looked up at you, standing infront of the espresso machine as steam was billowing out. The other co-workers gave you a glance before returning to their tasks. 

“y/n! I haven’t seen you in so long, how are you?” he asked, you had contact on the phone but didn’t meet each other too much due to different schedules. 

“Minnie! I’ve missed you!” you squealed out as he walked through the low wooden gate that seperated the working area from the rest of the cafe. Seungmin pulled you into a hug, warmness emitting onto you as your bodies touched. 

“I’ve been good!” you continue, smiling as you pulled away from the hug seeing Seungmins waist defined by the strings of the apron wrapping around him, a kitchen towel hanging from his shoulder. 

“But I have to tell you something, Seungmin” you say quietly making the dark haired boy tilt his head in question. 

“I’m meeting Hwang Hyunjin here in about 5″ you say with a smirk, knowing Seungmin would be jealous.

“Wait,,, the Hwang Hyunjin?!” he said a bit too loudly, alerting the customers before he turned to them with a embarrassed smile, bowing his head in an apology. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“He was the one that suggested it, I couldn’t help it” you answered to which Seungmin’s eyes widened.

“H-he knows about this place?” He was stunned as he looked into your warm eyes.

“Yeah? Such a coincidence right? I was sur-” Your sentence was cut short as Seungmin’s breath hitched and a cold breeze hit your back. You turned back and there he was. 

Hyunjin. 

His presence shined in the relativly small rustic cafe. A white t-shirt and black slacks decorated his well toned body, a long leather coat draping over his shoulders as his black boots shined perfectly. Multiple silver chains hanged around his neck and the rings from last time were boldly placed on his lanky fingers. The blonde boy is tightly gripping what looks to be brown leather computer clutch. 

He waved awkwardly and you smiled sweetly his way, playfully hitting Seungmin whose mouth was wide open, looking at the dashing boy. Hyunjin walked over to you, the other guests staring and some of them already picking up their phones to capture this moment. He looked oddly stiff, mannerisms totally different from how you saw him last. 

“Hi Hyunjin! uhm,,, this is my friend Seungmin, he works here.” you said, trying to initiate a conversation but only earning a wide eyed expression from Seungmin before Hyunjin spoke. 

“Nice to meet you!” he smiled, his eyes forming into half-moons.

Seungmin snapped back to reality before bowing slightly, his eyes twinkling and his ruffled hair landing infront of his deep brown eyes.

“It’s an honor to meet you, mr Hwang” 

Hyunjin chuckles slightly at his cute gesture.

“Your cafe seemed charming” was the only thing he could response before looking at you and blushing. 

“2 americanos, Minnie” you said, momentarily glancing at Hyunjin before staring down at your heels. 

“It’s on me” Seungmin leaned in to whisper in your ear to which you giggled and looked at Hyunjin’s confused expression. You pointed at a table in the corner of the cafe with your chin, signaling to sit down.

As you walked over to the cedar table you couldn’t help but to wonder about his duality. He seemed so comfortale last time, talking to you with no problem and being as bold as to leave his number but now he seemed like a young school boy that wanted to ask his crush out. You started to understand what Felix meant by “people like him”. 

You sat down on one of the wooden chairs with steel details, the only thing seperating you from Hyunjin being the light ash table. He pulls out his computer, clicking away as you observe his perfect features. His concentrated eyes were fierce but had a soft gaze, his plush pink lips being soft, perfect for kissing you thought as your eyes drifted to his adams apple that bobbed everytime he swallowed.

Before Hyunjin could show you his screen Seungmin came over, shyly placing the drinks on the table and striking his sweet smile your way to which you laughed inaudibly until he went back behind the counter, observing the action from afar. 

Hyunjin cleared his throath nervously as he turned his computer to show you the colorful photos, looking at your judging gaze in reassurance as he sipped on his americano. 

You were amazed. The photoshoot seemed simple when you modelled but no one could have ever guessed that by just looking at the photo. It had a touch of charisma. The angles, the lighting and the editing made this originally plain photo look dimentional while still having a youthful touch with the pastels.

“W-what do you think?” He said, looking at the screen as his ring finger flicked through the pictures, pressing on the right arrow key on the keyboard. 

“It’s amazing, no wonder you’re so famous” you said while grabbing your americano without lifting your gaze from the enticing photos. Heat rose to Hyunjin’s cheeks upon hearing your words. Sure, he’d heard it before but not from you. Not in that cute, geniune voice that ringed through his ears like music. 

“Thank you y/n” he said, his gaze drifting over to you. He was stunned from how beautiful you looked in the cozy ambiance of the cafe. A wall plant descended down behind you as your eyes twinkled when you caught eye contact with the blond boy. Everything he wanted to do right now was to capture your beauty, make this moment last forever. 

“Earth to Hyunjin” you said, giggling as his gaze froze on you, feeling your heated cheeks get even hotter. 

“Uhm,,, s-sorry, wanna get some sneak peaks from other photoshoots?”

You nodded excitingly, feeling special but also questioning why he treated you so specially. He was shy, theres no doubt about that but it almost seems like he trusts you. You move your chair closer to him, wanting to see the screen properly before you notice Hyunjin shifting awkwardly in his seat, not used to being this close to you. 

“H-here are some I took last week, another one of mr Styliz many projects” he smiled timidly before taking another sip of his beverage. 

Once again you were amazed by his talent but what caught your attention even more was how undressed the female model was, her curvy body being covered by nothing more than a short glittery dress with a plunging neckline, displaying her cleavage. In her hands there was a delicate red bottle, decorated with art deco lines.

“What was the concept?” you asked, curious of this sensual vibe that emitted from this photo. 

“Something along the lines of elegancy. It’s for Aurora Perfumes”

He namedropped the famous brand in the most colloquial fashion, seemingly an everyday occurence for him. 

“Y-you worked for Aurora? That’s,,, wow” you were speechless as Hyunjin quietly giggled at your reacting, waveing his hand in the air in disagreement.

“I don’t like to b-brag about my career so hopefully I don’t come across that way” he said, almost worryingly. 

“No! Not all, it’s really impressive, your entire career is.”

Your sweet voice made his heart flutter, never before had he heard compliments sound this pleasant. 

“Why did you become a photographer?” you asked, your curiosity bubbling over as he looked at you with his penetrating brown eyes. The mood suddenly got cold. Hyunjin took a deep breath, exhaling loudly from his nose as you sipped on your coffee. 

“I’m an only child and therefore I spent a lot of time with my grandparents when I was younger.” 

You knew this was going to be a sad story, you bit the inside of your cheek, regretting asking that question as you thought that it might be too personal but judging from how Hyunjin’s words spilled from his mouth you believed that he felt comfort telling you.

“They had photoalbums stacked up in their attic which I flipped through for hours, observing their youth and innocence and seeing how time fled by. When I got my first camera I was overjoyed, taking pictures of everything around me and putting them up on my wall, acting as if my room was an art gallery.”

He smiled when talking, his voice turning mellow as he reminisced. 

“But when my grandparents passed away,,, I noticed that I didn’t have any photos of them nor of my friends or family which made me feel disappointed. I had spent so much of my time trying to capture beauty when beauty was infront me.”

Shivers ran down your spine as his sugared voice ran through the words. Hyunjin looked nervously down on the table and you did the same, not knowing what to say or how to comfort the blond boy. 

“I-I’m sorry for your loss” 

That was the only sentence you could muster to say but Hyunjin glanced at you, his dimples appearing as he smiled. 

“Why are you sorry? No one usually asks me that question so it feels nice to get it off my chest.”

You nodded shyly as silence erupted in between the two of you. 

“It really was a pleasure working with you y/n, I would like to have you modell for me again” he blurts out, trying to put an end to the painful silence.

“Y-you what? B-but my manager hasn’t told me anything ab-”

“No, just the two of us.”

You went quiet, not believing your ears. A photoshoot, the two of you? Isn’t that practically a confession? Your dazed mind seemed to wander off to places far off, imagining the tension that would be looming over the both of you. Felix sure as hell wasn’t going to like this but you didn’t care. Hyunjin seemed comfortable with you, talking as if he’d known you for years and now he was asking you to modell for him? Saying no to this opportunity would be a crime.

“S-sure, when were you thinking?”

“You free tomorrow?” Hyunjin says, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs comfortably, looking up at you through a curtain of blonde. 

“Yeah,,, sounds great!”

A smile crept up on your face as heat rose to your cheeks, feeling everything and nothing all at once. In this moment you didn’t care about the shutter coming from the guests phone cameras. You just cared about him. 

The next half an hour went by in a blur. In that short time you probably covered half of the conversational topics on this earth. Hyunjin laughed as you told him about your childhood.

“That’s so cute y/n”

“Well it wasn’t cute in the moment but now I can laugh at it” you laughed with him, stroking a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“I think you’re cute y/n” 

“Of course I was cute when I was little” you roll your eyes at him, tears prickling in your eyes from laughter but when you glanced at Hyunjin he wasn’t laughing, he was simply observing you. 

“I think you’re cute now” 

You froze. All these things he’s saying made your heart beat faster than ever, a nervosity that couldn’t be described with words.

“You too” you exclaimed without thinking to which Hyunjin glanced at you with a grin. He coughed before streching his arms.

“Time to head home?” He said, packing up his computer. 

“Yeah, I have something to do” you said looking at your watch, knowing very well that you had absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the day except for anxiously thinking out every potential scenario that could occur tomorrow.

“Meet me at my studio tomorrow at 5 pm”

You nodded carefully, knowing exactly where his famous studio was.

“Don’t tell Bangchan I showed you the photos” he laughed mischievously, looking a bit like a ferret. 

“Alright, alright I won’t even though I really want to tell him how good of a photographer you are” you said cheekily as you stood up. The both of you headed towards the wooden door with glass panes, flashing a wink towards Seungmin that had his eyebrows heightened, amazed from how the little cafe lit up with two attractive people walking side by side. 

Outside the sun beamed, the bustling of the city and high skyscrapers stimulating your senses. 

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow Hyunjin”

You scratch the back of your neck nervously as you speak before remembering something.

“Oh! Do you have a concept in mind?”

“Wear whatever, I’ll think of a way around it” he said. 

“Mhm! See you tomorrow!”

“Text me when you’re home, ok?” 

That sentence made your heart flutter and before you could embarrass yourself by saying anything stupid he waved, his rings shining in the sunlight. Turning around, you promptly started walking back home.

Your heart thumping, your thoughs scattered, your mind dazed. 

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo​ @fleeingreality @nycol-ie​ @jisungsplatforms @p0t4t0don14ll

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 1 Here! / <This is part 2!>

Commission info for a Love Letter from a HP character here!

A/N: This part is shorter but deff expect a part 2/3/15/ and 20 lol. If you would like to be added to the tag list, it will be open until tumblr limits my tags, comment that you want to be added!

Also something I forgot to add a lot of the house decision part of this post was inspired by another post I read on tumblr where Harry belongs to all the houses. I couldn’t find it, so if it’s your post (or you know who it is) lmk so I can give you credit!

- “Their mother was in my house-“ McGonagall starts

- “And their father was in mine, I have equal claim” Snape cuts in

- “Let’s not forget that before that, historically, they came from a long line of Ravenclaws” Flitwick adds

- “Oh tosh, this is a kind child if I ever saw one, did you see the way they were reassuring the other children- even Cedric apparently-“ Professor Sprout adds

- So she’s heard about that

- “What has that got to do with anything?” Snape snaps

- You’re not sure what’s weirder

- The fact that the sorting hat couldn’t decide where you belonged

- Or that all the heads of each house are fighting over who gets you

- Honestly with how well the whole situation was handled in front of everyone else you didn’t think something like this would happen

- Dumbledore silenced everyone, and said it would be discussed afterwards

- You watched each child get sorted in their appropriate house

- And afterwards, while everyone was feasting, you were lead away by Dumbledore and his four house heads to his office

- You’re not really sure what’s there to fight about-

- Honestly they should probably be fighting over who has to take you with how much trouble you’ll be.

- “Enough!” Dumbledore shouts and the four are immediately silenced

- And then he looks at you and you feel your hair stand on end

- “I believe it only natural, in this situation, that they get to choose which house they wish to be apart of”

- Snape blanches at the mention

- “But sir-“

- “That is my decision” he says with an air of finality and none of the others protest when his attention sweeps back to you

- “So which will it be?”

- You Blanche

- “Isn’t there some sort of quiz - or test I could take instead headmaster-“

- “There is not”

- You feel yourself sweating

- “Well-“ you start

- Ravenclaw was your initial choice, it’s the safest

- But then, if you were in Gryffindor you could be friends with Fred and George

- And if you went to Slytherin, you might be able to knock some sense into those blood obsessed freaks, not to mention Blaise in there

- But then- Hufflepuff isn’t looking too bad either, and Cedric seems to like you. It would be nice to have someone older looking out for you

- “How am I supposed to decide?”

- The words escape you without realizing and you see all the professors flinch at your words

- “What do you-“ Snape starts with a hiss, but Dumbledore stops him with a wave of a hand

- “And what do you mean by that child?”

- You gulp

- “Well-“

- You take a deep breath looking into his twinkling eyes

- “I want to be brave-“ you see McGonagall swell from the corner of your eye

- “But I also want to to be kind-“ she deflated and professor Sprout stands a bit taller “And wise and ambitious”

- “I want them all, how am I supposed to pick just one trait and make it my defining characteristic? People are nuanced, they’re more than just one thing”

- Everyone in the room stiffens at your words, and feeling as if you might have said something terribly rude you rush to make amends-

- “So if there’s some sort of trial, or-“

- “Alright we’ll do that then” Dumbledore says with an air of finality and you feel baffled

- “Do what sir?”

- “A trial period of course, a month in each house.”

- .

- .....

- .........

- (Y/N).exe is broken

- “Headmaster that’s completely-“

- “What kind of impression will-“

- “-nothing like that is stated in the handbook”

- “Think of the other students Albus!”

- They’re all shouting over each other, but you understand the basic sentiment

- This is pretty out there, even for a magic school

- “I have decided” Dumbledore doesn’t even say it all that loud, but the other four immediately clamor up

- “We’ll start alphabetically, with Gryffindor and work our way through”

- Huh?

- You’re mind is only just start to repair itself, assessing the situation

- Well it’s not exactly a bad deal now is it?

- In a way you’ve gotten exactly what you wanted

- But the anxiety of having to make a choice looms over you

- “Well, come now I’ll show you the way-“ and so you chase after the strict lithe woman as you follow her to the Gryffindor Common Room

- The other two shuffle out, but Snape stays

- “You’re just doing this because you’re bored aren’t you?” Snape asks

- Dumbledore shrugs

- “Can you blame me? It’s been so long since anything interesting has happened”

- “You say that like one of the Weasley boys doesn’t cause trouble every other week”

- You follow McGonagall down several poorly lit hallways, making mental note of the a few choice paintings, hoping to remember them for later

- “The password this year is “chartreuse” “ she tells you

- And just like magic the portrait swings open, and several hands emerge from the inky depths to grab onto your arm and pull you inside

- The portrait door shutting close

- McGonagall sighs

- “Children will be children I suppose”

- A small smile curling onto her mouth and walked to her chambers

- You would have half a mind to be afraid, if the second you made it inside you didn’t see fireworks and pert poppers popping

- “Welcome to Gryffindor,” the boy on your right, Fred says

- “We knew you’d end up here” George finishes

- Everyone is i the common room, and they all congratulate you, happy to have you in their house

- The room is as big as a banquet hall, full of dark red rugs and gold tapestry’s

- A little gaudy if you’re being honest

- Like something out of a Harry Potter themed room in a pottery barn catalogue

- But that’s probably the point

- “So how did it all go down?” Fred asks, sitting on your right side on a red couch in front of the fire

- “Did Minnie manage to convince you?”

- “Oi they didn’t need convincin’ Fred, we’re clearly the superior house”

- “Well you see, it’s not quite official”

- They look at you with wide eyes as you recount the tale

- You almost feel bad bursting their bubble, especially when they’re being so nice to you

- But when you’re done they both sport identical grins, twinkles in their eyes

- “That’s wicked” they say in unison

- You grin

- You think you’re going to like it here

- The twins basically monopolize the rest of your night, asking for your input on pranks

- “If it were me-“ you start, their eyes on you with rapt attention

- “I would brew some amortentia and give it to Filch-“

- “And make him fall in love with Snape!” George says like you’ve just said the most brilliant thing

- You shake your head

- “I would give it to the cat- Mrs. Noriss, And make her fall in love with something crazy, like a dog- it’s that subtle annoyance that makes it all the more satisfying”

- The both grin

- “So when are we doing it?” Fred asks

- “Doing what?”

- “Brewing the love potion of course”

- You grin

- Yeah, you’re really going to like it here

Tag List:

@parascape​ @imdoingathingmom​ @smileygirl08​ @awesomebooklover17​ @taferris​

[comehomeducklings]

Present [Part 4] (Obsession)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1943 ~ 6th year

“What would be the purpose of a wizard or witch to prepare a Polyjuice potion?” Slughorn asks. “Yes, Mr. Riddle?”

Tom drops his hand from the air, “The potion grants the drinker to take the form of another.”

“Yes! And what would happen if said drinker tried to transform into an animal?”

I know this one so I lift my hand.

“Go ahead.”

I clear my throat, “When the human drinker tries to transform into an animal they would not take its complete form. Only sections of said animal.”

Slughorn nods his head, “Can they reverse after a bit of time like normally?”

“No,” I answered. “It takes an extremely long time to wear off, and you might even have to go to the hospital wing.”

He grins and continues to write on the chalkboard. Even though he can enchant the writer's tool to note down itself, I’m guessing he prefers the old-fashioned way.

Tom and I are even on points. When he answers correctly, I also do right after him. I can see him noting down both our points on the corner of his parchment. The black tally marks standing out. Our points are on my paper as well, just in case he decides to cheat. No chances are being taken today, or tomorrow.

“How long does the potion wear off if made correctly?”

Riddle and I both shoot our hands up. His demeanor is calm and collected while I'm sitting on my feet to have my arm raised higher than his. It’s not very fair that his arms are the length of mine to the third power.

“Mr. Nott, what do you know?”

“A single dose could last from 10 minutes to 12 hours.”

Another question wasted by not getting called on. I don’t mind that much since it doesn't keep me behind. Riddle seems to care a little bit too much. His competitive side is showing and I guess his pal is ruining the race.

Professor stole our textbooks for this pop quiz. The rapid-fire questions should “already be memorized and known,” down to the molecular detail. My knowledge only goes so far.

I trust myself, to a point. There’s definitely going to be a question I get wrong and I’m already dreading it. Every answer that falls out of my mouth is examined and thought over ten times before the action of answering arises.

“For something a little different, Mr. Riddle come to the front of the classroom and write four ingredients that are needed for the potion.”

He stands up and pushes his chair in. His eyes as cold as The Black Lake. While he makes his way toward the board I cross my fingers, hoping he forgets one. I know that’s not the kindest, but nothing with him is necessarily “kind.”

There he goes, writing all four ingredients with ease. His handwriting is beautiful. How does he honestly do that? Does he practice every single day to get it that precise?

Maybe I should practice to improve as well. Honestly embarrassing how bad my handwriting seems next to his. We compared essays once, never again. That was the most embarrassing moment of my life. He just laughed at me and kept pointing out how weird my f’s looked.

I swear my letters weren’t that bad. It’s just that he overachieves everything. Now I rewrite every “f” letter that appears on my homework. Thank you for the new insecurity, Riddle.

“Very good! Very good, your turn,” he points towards me. “Three more ingredients this time.”

While I stand in front of the board, I check out what he has already put down. Lacewig flies, leeches, okay not bad. Knotgrass and the hair of the person the drinker will transform into.

He numbered them so I continued on from that.

5) Boomslang skin

6) Fluxweed

Last one, let's see. We already put Lacewig flies, Knotgrass, hair, the skin, and Fluxweed. I hesitate for a little bit, my brain working at high speed. Anxiety levels are higher than Mount Everest.

7) Powdered Bicorn Horn

There we go, I smile to myself proudly. When I turn back around my eyes meet his. He smirks and nods while he writes down a point for both of us. I’m not sure that it counts for four points, just one.

The questions go on for quite a bit. Our tally marks are piling higher and higher. Each of our count's neck and neck for the top spot.

“What is the brewing time?”

“About a month.”

“How does the potion look before the addition of the final ingredient?”

“Thick like the mud after it pours.”

“It also is bubbling.”

“How does it look after adding the final ingredient?”

“Depends on who the witch or wizard made the potion to look like.”

“Varies in taste and color.”

He seems to be done with questions so Tom and I start counting the marks. On my paper, I seem to be .5 points ahead of him. I quickly look his way to see him come to the same conclusion. He takes a deep breath and casts his eyes to the side. Tom then tilts his quill my way signaling that I did indeed win.

I’m about to squeal quite highly but then I recollect I’m in a classroom. Full of people who are terrified to be anywhere in this castle. That would be quite inappropriate of me so I keep my excitement to myself.

Professor Slughorn wipes the whole board away. Clearing all the information we were learning and reviewing about.

“When I pair you up, each of you will grab the right ingredients for this potion and lay it near the front of your desk,” he says. “It should be laid in the order you would normally use when making the concoction.”

“First up, Miss Horn and Miss Yellowbo.”

The classroom starts to move with life as students pair with one another. Some cheerful noises and annoyed ones from who they ended up with. Most of us here know each other. I don’t think I would mind having anyone in this room as my partner.

“Mr. Riddle and-”

Of course, it’s me. Starting to think the pairings’ on purpose. His face shines too brightly for it not to be well planned out. I make my way to the shelves to start out picking the ingredients.

There’s always a moment where my mind decides to give up on me. Most of the elements are obtained. A few are missing.

I’m going over the variety of bottles containing different substances when I feel a looming pressure on my back. An arm slightly grazes past my ear and picks up Fluxweed.

“How do you manage to forget the very ingredient you wrote down on the board?” Toms whispers right by my ear.

I shift my eyesight to the side to see him already looking at me, “Sorry, I blanked out a little.”

He starts seizing half of the ingredients into his hold. I don’t really mind carrying a couple, but I’m just left with one bottle after he takes most of my possessions.

“Taking all the credit now I see,” I tilt my head as I raise my chin to meet his tall build.

“You were about to spill everything. I’m saving you from embarrassment,” he responds cockily.

I started to argue but he already made his way back to the desk, “Everything was perfectly stable in my arms.”

He continues to ignore me and sets down everything. Including the one bottled ingredient in my hand that he snatched just a few moments ago.

“Nothing is ever perfectly stable with you.”

I’m about to whisper a word no children should hear before Slughorn makes his way to our table. Saving Riddle from my rising annoyance.

“Wonderful! You too got all of them perfectly,” he starts. “I would expect no less from my star students.”

All I do is smile brightly in respect. Trying not to drive any more attention to the outburst of pride he has for us.

“Thank you, professor,” Tom says. He starts picking the ingredients off of the table, still barely letting me take any.

Riddle just walks off while our proffesor continues around the room. When he comes back I just about finish wiping the desk of any accidental spills.

“I won our little game this time,” I nudged his shoulder with my own.

Tom slightly rolls his eyes with a small smile, “I see that you have. Just this one though.”

“And many more to come,” I exclaim.

Our attention seeks back to our teacher, “You’ll all be writing an essay about an imaginary way this potion could go wrong. I expect it to be turned in before class tomorrow.”

I hurry to get my textbook off of my area and head towards the back of the classroom near the doorway.

“Everyone split into two groups. This half will go with Riddle while the other is with me.”

I turn my head once more to look at Tom, he’s reassuring one of the students that they are going to be okay.

I only look for a couple of seconds before leading my half of the group out first. A few stops along the way to make sure perfects are keeping order. Most of my group of students have been dropped off. A couple still lures behind me, I picked them up as I worked my way through the castle halls.

They were also dropped off and now I scatter along the hallway to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. Like every other period, the routine stays the same mostly.

My robes have a few wet spots on them still from the tears of younger students attending this school. I fully believe it won’t be too long until the headmaster and the ministry deal with whoever is making our lives miserable here. The murders will surely not go unjustly.

As I am turning a new hallway I happen to meet up with Riddle.

“All good?”

“Of course,” he responds. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He seems to look around quite a bit. Like he’s searching for something.

“Head back to your class, I will look around once more.”

That’s the last thing he says before moving around me with his hand on my shoulder. Quickly slipping past me.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“No, no no,” I whisper to myself as I crumple yet another paper in my hand. I throw it on the ground next to me and huff out a breath.

Writing this bloody essay is taking more time than I predicted. It usually comes naturally to me but I can’t seem to write correctly. Every time I make a mistake I have to start over again. My handwriting failing to write neatly for once.

My whole structure and information is already figured out. Writing is what’s taking me the longest. No matter how hard I try, the letters never seem to come out correctly from my quill.

Especially the f’s.

F

f

Infuriating really. I only have an hour left until the library closes. It already technically shut down but the librarian gave me an extra three hours as long as I lock up.

Perks of being Head Girl I suppose.

My head is in my hands as I compose myself. It’s late and I’m tired, it’s not even safe to be out at this time. At least if I happen to die I wouldn’t have to write this essay.

“How long have you been trying at this-” a low voice asks behind me.

I jump in my seat, “Oh it’s just you. Well, it’s been-”

“And failing?” Tom finishes as he takes the seat next to me. The chair turned slightly to me.

I roll my eyes and fall further back into my seat. My head turned upwards, admiring the flying books in the ceiling. Finding their place, their way home.

“Probably an hour and a half,” I sigh. “You’re completely right about how bad my calligraphy is.”

He just nods his head and takes a fresh new sheet from the middle of the table. His quill magically appears from inside his robe. All the papers that have the plans for my essay start to float around his head and workspace. Occasionally glancing up at them from time to time and then going back to writing.

His lips are pursed in concentration, “I write my F’s like this. It’s easier that way and extremely easy to practice and write quickly.”

My head peers over his shoulder as I watch him effortlessly indite.

“You try,” he opens up my fingers that were closing my hand and places a quill in them.

I furrow my eyebrows and start to practice my letters on a separate piece of paper that I originally scrapped. I don’t want to waste paper and there’s no reason to get a fresh new one.

We both work quietly in the night until the last few minutes of opening time. Before I left the room I saw him quickly go far back into the library. I never got to ask him why he arrived here so late.

Never saw the need to.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~ Taglist:

@empath-bunny

@jinxqsu

[tossawary]

Chapter 28: “A Growing Family” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

-

The fact that Shen Qingqiu is waiting for them, just outside of Yue Qingyuan’s office, really doesn’t help the dread that Shang Qinghua is feeling here.

A stocky young woman is standing attentively beside the seated Peak Lord. This is that Fu Qiang character, one of Binghe’s favorite shijies on Qing Jing Peak, here to whisk Peerless Cucumber away for a one-to-one chat on the other transmigrator’s potential relationship to the House of Rejuvenation. Or maybe to give the kid a tutoring session on recovering memories from trauma or something! Shang Qinghua doesn’t know exactly, not having been invited to sit in.

“Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu greets coolly.

“Greetings, Shen-Shixiong,” Shang Qinghua returns, feeling sweaty already, but also weirdly giddy. He’s tempted to wink, but he’s pretty sure that would get him killed. “How are you? You look very well! Aha, how did those ‘other engagements’ go the other day? Meet with anyone? Have a good time?”

Over the top of his elegant fan, Shen Qingqiu immediately gives him a look that could probably kill a lesser man - or maybe a greater one, like someone who has more dignity and shame and whatever than Shang Qinghua does. Shang Qinghua doesn’t flinch. He assumes that the meeting with Yue Qingyuan went well! Which is great! Super great! If it had gone badly, he’s pretty sure that Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t even be setting foot on Qiong Ding Peak now - or at least would have been projecting “I’ll kill to get out of here and I’m mentally picking all my victims” hard enough to send all the Qiong Ding Peak disciples and cultivators off like panicked chickens.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Shen Qingqiu says, downright frosty now. “Shang-Shidi must have been paying too much attention to nonsense gossip again.”

“Ah, of course! Of course! My mistake, Shen-Shixiong! Please forgive me!”

Shang Qinghua looks to his fellow transmigrator next, to reintroduce them, only to find Shen Yuan making a very strange expression. Shen Yuan is looking between Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu kind of like he’s never seen them before. His mouth is even a little open and everything. It takes the kid a few seconds to realize that he has two Peak Lords staring at him and to swallow the strange expression.

- 

AN: Shen Yuan knows that 1) SQQ came to meet SQH personally immediately after their mission was over, 2) SQH stayed in bed the following day for a LONG time, and 3) SQH had a hickey on his neck. 

So when Shang Qinghua makes a reference to the meeting that SQQ had with Yue Qingyuan, almost flirtatiously asking if Shen Qingqiu “met with anyone” and “had a good time”, Shen Yuan is going to draw his own conclusions. 

Namely, that Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu might be sleeping together. 

After all, Shen Yuan doesn’t know about the YQY and SQQ backstory! Shen Yuan only knows that Shang Qinghua is weirdly friendly with PIDW’s most famous scum villain and that Shen Qingqiu apparently likes SQH enough not to be an asshole to Luo Binghe. Shang Qinghua kind of talks like they’re friend, so what if they’re... more than friends?! 

Meanwhile, Shang Qinghua cannot fathom anyone EVER considering that he and SHEN QINGQIU might be lovers. It’s not an idea that he is in a position to have because what the fuck?! 

I was tickled pink when I realized that things were in position to have the disciples think that Shangjiu is a thing. I was already planning on having them notice Shang Qinghua’s brand-new-relationship good mood. Shen Yuan may not notice when people are in love with HIM, but he did still read a twenty-million-word stallion web-novel, so he’s totally prepared to assume that secret affairs are happening for OTHER PEOPLE. 

- 

His fellow transmigrator hastily performs the appropriate greeting. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t reply beyond inclining his head, instead sweeping his eyes over Shen Yuan, who stands hilariously still like he’s facing down a predator, except for how the kid squints back a little at the Lord of Qing Jing Peak. Ha! That’s pretty fearless coming from someone still so unnerved by the man who would have Proud Immortal Demon Way’s most famous scum villain.

“Fu Qiang,” Shen Qingqiu says finally. “I have instructed Assistant Ma to set aside a private room for your discussion. You may take Disciple Shen there now.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

The other disciple gestures for Shen Yuan to follow and the other transmigrator hastily takes her up on that. As the disciples disappear, Shen Qingqiu rises and, without a word, leads Shang Qinghua into Yue Qingyuan’s office.

- 

AN: It’s tempting to try and make Shen Qingqiu and Shen Yuan actually develop more of a relationship than “passing acquaintance”, but the thing is that I can’t see either of them really going for it without being forced or without a very serious push. They’re both so prickly. 

- 

Yue Qingyuan greets him in a friendly manner, like he’s genuinely pleased to see Shang Qinghua and happy to help. Shang Qinghua greets the man in the same way. It’s nice! It also kind of feels like they’re both pretending the past few months of awkwardness, resentment, and avoidance never happened.

- 

AN: It felt a little more true to life and to the characters to have Shang Qinghua and Yue Qingyuan just... move forward instead of getting into their issues with each other and what apologies may be due. 

It’s kind of like a mutual: “What if we didn’t talk about it?” 

And they’re both like, “Oh, thank fuck.” 

I think that if they both brew on it a bit more, they may eventually decide to try to assuage their respective anger or guilt by saying something, but right now they’re feeling raw and/or embarrassed, and don’t want to accidentally get into it again. So they’ll talk about work! They always have work to talk about! Work is more important than personal matters, so they’re just going to pretend everything is fine! 

- 

It’s not just the System who won’t let the Immortal Alliance Conference not happen! But, ahhh, Shang Qinghua can still dream of them actually managing to convince Zhao Hua Temple Sect and everyone else to call the whole thing off. He can dream!

Yue Qingyuan has this pained expression that says, “You’re not wrong, but I wish you were.” This guy knows what Shang Qinghua is talking about!

Shen Qingqiu has this expression that says something like, “I can only critique the accuracy of your assessment on the grounds that you may be giving our fellow cultivators too much credit in terms of common sense and cooperation. This annoys me immensely.”

“You have put a great deal of thought into this,” Yue Qingyuan says finally. “You received this news… when exactly… again?”

“Ah, yesterday morning?” Shang Qinghua answers.

 “While in bed with a demon lord,” he doesn’t elaborate. Nope! Not elaborating!

“I know it’s not- I’ll try to get more information, but everyone is still in the planning stages, and it’s not easy getting any information!” Shang Qinghua says defensively. “But, even with that, I thought, ‘Ah, my shixiongs will probably want to know right away!’ Someone will need to tell Zhao Hua to take precautions, at least?”

Yue Qingyuan visibly regathers himself and says, “It is better to know these things as soon as possible. Thank you, Qinghua, for this forewarning.”

“He’s very good at knowing these things,” Shen Qingqiu agrees, but the man’s gaze is like a very sharp pin and Shang Qinghua is but a lowly insect under it. “When might you be expected to know more about this?”

“Ah, I’ll have to get in contact with… ah, some people I know.”

- 

AN: Of course YQY and SQQ want to know more about where SQH is getting this information, but for all they know he might just have gotten a tip-off from one of his merchant contacts or someone in the black market. This has been brewing for a while between these demon lords and the cultivation sects. It’s really bad news, but it’s also not really that surprising. 

According to the Airplane Extras, when MBJ and SQH meet, Airplane offhandedly mentions that Mobei-Jun’s clan and Huan Hua Palace Sect have a serious grudge from a conflict at a previous Immortal Alliance Conference. In PINTWILF, this conference is why the IACs got cancelled and had to be recently “revived”. The coming IAC is the 3rd since this revival.  

Shang Qinghua has proven himself reliable enough by this point that YQY and SQQ will let him keep his informants close to his chest. Between SQH’s years of improved services (helped by actually getting his personal disciples to help him) and SQH’s interference in their personal issues, they do actually trust him. 

So, yeah, they think he’s a squirmy little rat man. 

But he’s THEIR squirmy little rat man who has come through in times of need. Also, SQQ, for all his glaring, might stab YQY if he started giving SQH a hard time about this. Sometimes a shidi just wants you to back the fuck off, YQY! Let him have his secrets! Even though SQQ absolutely wants to know SQH’s secrets and is on the verge of dying of curiosity. 

I am VERY MUCH looking forward to them finding out that Shang Qinghua has a demon prince for a boyfriend. That’s going to be fun. 

- 

“I have also been… considering the advantages of lessons and between Peaks to encourage both cooperation and… survival skills,” Shen Qingqiu says next. “Rarely does one become a master of all disciplines - the Twelve Peaks allow for many of our sect to become specialists, masters of one art - but it seems unwise not to be learned in the basics of as many life-saving arts as one is able.”

“A diversity of learning can be very beneficial,” Yue Qingyuan agrees immediately.

“My disciple, Fu Qiang, has become a very adept medic over the years, though this was in the hopes of avoiding visiting Qian Cao Peak. The head disciples of An Ding, as I understand it, have sought to take special lessons from Qian Cao and Xian Shu to improve themselves."

 “Ah, that explains how Hongpeng spied on Peerless Cucumber back when the little bro was still in Mu Qingfang’s clutches,” Shang Qinghua thinks. “And, ah, Shen Bro, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Wenjiao goes to Xian Shu Peak mostly to moon over pretty girls, especially my little sister-in-law.”

"There is also the example of Qi-Shimei’s most frustrating disciple, who must be routinely dragged away from Bai Zhan, but who has also apparently helped to improve her fellow Xian Shu disciples’ martial abilities.”

 "Ah, that's one of putting Qi Qingqi letting Luo Fanli and Liu Mingyan fight each other in order to hopefully wear them both out," Shang Qinghua thinks.

“Even if demons should not attack, though only a limited number of our disciples will be attending the Immortal Alliance Conference, it would nevertheless be beneficial to ensure that all disciples across the sect are well-equipped to keep themselves alive until the specialists arrive,” Shen Qingqiu finishes. “Shang-Shidi, as one of the most well-connected leading members of our sect, the organization of such an initiative would be best left in your hands.”

- 

AN: Okay, so I know that this is kind of a weird thing to be coming from Shen Qingqiu, but he’s grown a bit over the course of this fic! AND he’s totally coming at it from the perspective of: “I don’t have to cooperate or get along with anyone beyond what I’m doing now.” 

So SQQ is like, “My disciples are stupid. We should have more field medics.” 

And he’s like, “Some people’s disciples can’t fight for shit and we should make sure they know more self-defense.” 

And he’s like, “Liu Qingge’s disciples are animals. Someone at least teach them how to protect other disciples and how to not bleed to death, because he won’t. That man doesn’t teach them anything.” 

And he’s like, “Shang Qinghua, you do that. I don’t want to.” 

- 

Peerless Cucumber’s conversation with Shen Qingqiu’s disciple is long over, but apparently his fellow transmigrator didn’t just leave afterwards. Yue Qingyuan’s youngest assistant intercepts to politely point Shang Qinghua towards their waiting room. Shen Yuan is asleep in a chair, with one of his cultivation manuals open in his lap. Judging by his pose, Shang Qinghua is going to guess that the kid was trying some kind of meditation and ended up taking a nap by accident.

It happens to the best of them sometimes! Or at least to Shang Qinghua!

“Ah, I told you not to wait on me. Come on, bro, I don’t want to have to carry you back,” Shang Qinghua says, while jostling the kid awake. “You’re too big for that. My nephew is too big for that these days. Just because it would be nostalgic for me and just because I can doesn’t mean that I want to be carrying you around like a sack of vegetables.”

- 

AN: If Shang Qinghua can haul Mobei-Jun around, then he could pick up Shen Yuan no problem. Also, this is the bit where I was like, “Wow, I have very much made SQH into SY’s dad here.” 

Even SVSSS SQH gives me Uncle Vibes, to be honest. The man wants to pop into Bingqiu’s life, ask some nosy questions, be treated to a free meal (who doesn’t), tell some bad jokes, offer some terrible advice, complain about his workload, and then flounce off again with his boyfriend. SVSSS SQH seems to like being useful and appreciated and part of the group, but in a way where he’s not directly attached to anyone, you know? Give SVSSS SQH the benefits, but none of the responsibilities! 

- 

Shang Qinghua is kind of sick of this roundabout conversation and decides to bring out the big guns: a move taught to him by his extremely powerful sister-in-law, who has effortlessly defeated their resident War God. He knows the effectiveness of this technique personally, because Luo Jiahui has used it to defeat him many times. He puts on the best concerned face he has.

“Yuan,” he says seriously, looking the kid directly in the eye. “I’m not making jokes here about not skipping out on cultivating. It’s not always going to be fun - a lot of the time, it’s going to be pretty embarrassing and a little painful. Bro, I was an adult stuck in a teenage body, regularly getting my ass handed to me by actual teenagers. That was awful. But I really need you to keep doing it, even if you don’t become the next War God ready to challenge the protagonist, because I don’t want you to die. This shitty world isn’t safe. And if you want to be involved in these missions, then I need you to be able to carry yourself, or we’re both going to get trampled by some OP monster wandering out of an advanced chapter early instead of fixing anything here.”

Shen Yuan is having difficulty meeting his eyes. He keeps trying to force himself to look at Shang Qinghua and then looking away again automatically.

Shang Qinghua employs another of his sister-in-law’s immensely powerful techniques: he reaches out and puts a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I will tell you stuff when I have stuff to tell you and when I can tell it to you. You’ve been super helpful, I’m going to need your help in the future, but I need you to be a little patient right now too.”

Shen Yuan nods. “...Fine.”

-

AN: Shang Qinghua: “I can’t believe that I’m tricking this person into thinking I’m a good person by being nice to them and looking after them and doing good things. I have learned this behavior for TRICKING PURPOSES only and have NOT accidentally adopted yet another kid.” 

- 

Shang Qinghua can’t answer the question right now! Leave a message!

He’s too busy replaying all the times he’s seen his nephew and his fellow transmigrator interact. Binghe did ask after Shen Yuan every time that he and Shang Qinghua talked, while the other transmigrator was on Qian Cao and after he came to An Ding, but… Shang Qinghua just thought his nephew was being polite and curious? Peerless Cucumber stands out! Binghe didn’t act too weirdly about it!

Luo Binghe is supposed to be a stallion protagonist with 600 wives!

Although… Shang Qinghua’s nephew has never really shown any interest in that kind of thing. Which Shang Qinghua has been pretty glad about! He doesn’t want to have 600 nieces-in-law! He also doesn’t want that for his nephew!

The protagonist of Proud Immortal Demon Way ’s harem was basically a snake pit of drama and desperation and decaying fantasies. For everyone who could read between the lines of empty papapa to see Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s tragic story of resentment and revenge, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say the tyrannical, broken protagonist was like a black hole, dragging everyone else into orbit around this man who couldn’t really love anyone! You can take a blackened protagonist out of the Eternal Abyss, but you can’t take that abyss out of the blackened protagonist, right?

The original Luo Binghe didn’t take wives because he was in love. He took wives because he could! Because they were beautiful or powerful or useful! Because he pitied them! Because he liked being their savior! Because he didn't want anyone else to have them! Because he liked being an object of envy and desire and love! Because it was expected of him, as the man all the readers wanted to be, who was supposed to have everything a man could ever want!

 “...Ah, there are… some implications there,” Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky realizes, remembering just how half-hearted most of that harem bullshit was. “Maybe a bent man wrote a kind of bent protagonist by accident? Who knows?”

“Da-Ge?” Fanli says. “Da-Ge, didn’t you know?”

- 

AN: I’ve said this before, but there’s a meta argument to be made in regards to Luo Binghe and obligatory heterosexuality. 

Also, from what I remember, Airplane didn’t actually seem to care too much about Luo Binghe being interested in Shen Yuan. In the Airplane Extras, Airplane says that in the original version of PIDW that he never got to write, Luo Binghe actually ended up totally alone at the end of the story. He was apparently planning a pretty downer ending for Luo Binghe. But Luo Binghe ended up getting a huge harem instead because that’s what the readers wanted! 

So, my impression is, that when SVSSS Airplane first realizes that LBH is into men (and into SQQ specifically), he does a little bit of self-reflection and also reflection on PIDW, then just goes, “Huh. That makes... sense.” 

- 

“Though, aha, I can’t remember Shen-Shixiong ever really not being kind of angry at me and I’m not dead yet. I had to talk really fast sometimes, but I lived! Now go away.”

When Shang Qinghua looks up, all of his disciples are staring at him. They all look surprised, except for Shen Yuan, who looks embarrassed. Shang Qinghua would guess that someone cracked a dirty joke, but that doesn’t seem right.

"What?"

“...Shifu, how long have you known Shen-Shibo?” Chen Xuan asks.

“Since we were disciples? Ah, I think he hated me at first sight.”

“But you’re close now?” Lin Wenjiao blurts out.

“Closer, ” Shang Qinghua agrees warily. “Aha, don’t think that any of you can ask me for favors to do with Shen Qingqiu or Qing Jing Peak too! That’s not happening! Disciple Luo, Shen, get out of here before you give my disciples any more weird ideas.”

- 

AN: Okay, so what happened is that as soon as Luo Fanli and Shang Qinghua left the room, Shen Yuan was like, “...Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu are... very close? Are they...?” 

And SQH’s disciples are like, “Holy shit, are you asking if SQH and SQQ are romantically involved?!” And SQH’s disciples laugh in SY’s face because that’s RIDICULOUS. Which makes SY really embarrassed and defensive! SQH’s disciples ask why he would EVER think a thing like that. 

SY provides the evidence. It’s a reasonable conclusion! 

And then SQH’s disciples are like, “...Holy shit?!” 

And then SY is like, “Wait, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that.” 

But it’s too late. SQH’s disciples are already putting all the evidence together and there is SO MUCH EVIDENCE of something going on there. 

I know I refer to this ship as “Shangjiu”, but that’s mostly just to specify which Shen Qingqiu and I doubt that anyone in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect dares to call SQQ “Jiu” besides YQY. They’d probably actually end up calling it something along the lines of “The Premise” like original Star Trek: The Original Series Kirk/Spock shippers. (See Fanlore or something for more info on that.) 

Again, SQH cannot... CONCEIVE of them conceiving this idea. 

-

By the time that Mobei-Jun shows up at his Leisure House, Shang Qinghua is a little on the edge! Honestly, he’s kind of off the edge, dangling from a very thin branch just underneath the cliff’s edge, and that thin branch is making some very concerning noises! Sure, at least the demon lord isn’t late, but Shang Qinghua is suddenly reminded of just how intimidating Mobei-Jun looks! Also, he’s cleaned up his house and knows his sister-in-law knows he’s kind of a slob sometimes, but he’s so sure that she’s still going to judge his cleaning job! What if she blames Mobei-Jun for it? (She’d be right to blame him a little! The man can be kind of lazy and messy sometimes too!)

A cool hand at Shang Qinghua’s hip prevents him from walking around in circles, repositioning disobedient cushions and offending tables. Shang Qinghua looks up at Mobei-Jun, who moves his hand to where Shang Qinghua’s neck meets shoulder.

“Stop it,” Mobei-Jun says.

- 

AN: It’s really funny thinking about how all of Mobei-Jun’s gentle and affectionate behaviors towards SQH are totally learned. This does not come naturally to the man. If SQH was having a panic attack, Mobei-Jun’s first (panicked) instinct would be to bark at him to stop it. 

- 

“It’s just… Jiahui is… it didn’t have to be this way for us? I would have just helped her get to safety and left her to live her life without me, but she didn’t let that happen, even though her family wasn’t any good either, so why would she want another one?” Shang Qinghua tries to explain. “She chose me? She looked out for me. She helped me understand a lot of things. Even though she probably could have picked anyone else. I don’t really know where I’d be right now if she didn’t? Ah, probably… not talking to or trusting anyone ever? You remember what things used to be like.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never really liked any of the sisters I’ve had before very much,” Shang Qinghua admits. “Ah, but they didn’t like me either, so it worked. Anyway! It’s… important to me that things work out now because…”

 “I don’t want to choose,” Shang Qinghua doesn’t say.

He clears his throat instead.

“Qinghua.”

Shang Qinghua forces himself to look up from his hands on Mobei-Jun’s collar.

“I am glad that you were not without someone to trust,” Mobei-Jun says, though it sounds like it takes effort. “Your sister has nothing to fear from me.”

Mobei-Jun has already made this promise, but it’s good to hear it again.

“Thank you, my king. I’ll, ah- I should go get her now.”

-

AN: Mobei-Jun is jealous. He is very, VERY jealous. 

BUT Mobei-Jun can also see some parallels here. Luo Jiahui is to Shang Qinghua in many ways what Shang Qinghua is to him. Mobei-Jun understands the importance of this relationship and of this person. He understands that Jiahui and SQH’s relationship is not romantic, of course, and understands her to be the “head of the family”, so he has to force himself not to act on his jealousy. 

I think that a part of Mobei-Jun might see jealousy as something very negative? Thinking about what I said about Mobei-Jun’s hang-ups surrounding consent and possessiveness possibly originating with his father being a wife-stealer, Mobei-Jun can’t act on his jealousy for the same reasons that he needs Shang Qinghua to make the first explicit moves. He wants Shang Qinghua to choose him and to choose him of his own free will. 

So, he’s jealous when he hears about how LJH chose SQH and SQH chose LJH, but he can’t act on it because 1) he loves SQH and 2) he’s (possibly unconsciously) terrified of becoming his father and creating resentment that will ripple out into his family potentially for generations. 

- 

It’s so, so weird to see his human sister-in-law sitting across from a demon lord. Luo Jiahui is not a tall woman and her cultivation is very good these days, but she’s not a warrior. Seeing the height and width differences side-by-side make them really obvious! Mobei-Jun is at least twice Shang Qinghua’s sister-in-law’s size! He has to be easily twice her weight!

When Luo Jiahui puts food in front of Mobei-Jun, Shang Qinghua gets huge “I dare you to not eat my food” messages! It took a really long time before Mobei-Jun seemed to accept that Shang Qinghua really wouldn’t take every available opportunity to hand him poison. Thankfully, however, Mobei-Jun has eaten Luo Jiahui’s food before! Shang Qinghua has shared his sister-in-law's food with the demon lord! Shang Qinghua also communicated beforehand that Mobei-Jun has to eat the food. No matter what!

So, Mobei-Jun eats the food and Shang Qinghua breathes a sigh of relief. Mobei-Jun even goes so far as to tell Luo Jiahui that she’s a good cook (above and beyond social interaction! Also delivered kind of awkwardly!), which his sister-in-law accepts with thanks (and also maybe just a little bit as her rightful due).

Luo Jiahui already knows the basics of Mobei-Jun: that he’s an ice demon, the son of the Northern Demon King, and he’s going to be the next Northern Demon King. She already knows that he’s a warrior and that his time is mostly spent tending to his duties, usually on his father’s behalf. She even knows that demon families can be kind of violently competitive and that Mobei-Jun’s family is no exception.

So, when she finally decides to speak seriously, she says, “My brother is very important to me. I have told him that if he is happy, then I’m happy for him. He has told me that you are very important to him.”

- 

AN: Mobei-Jun is going to hold that revelation close to his chest for WEEKS. Shang Qinghua said that Mobei-Jun is very important to him! 

Juggling the tension of this scene was weird. 

Because, like, Mobei-Jun is not a kind or a gentle or a good person. He’s disdainful of humanity. It’s kind of a mindfuck for him to be having a meal with a strange human who is not of the things he has been raised to respect. 

Meanwhile, Luo Jiahui is fucking terrified of Mobei-Jun, dislikes him, and doesn’t want to like him. He’s a stranger who could destroy her family. He looks kind of monstrous. He acts strangely. 

But they HAVE TO BE CIVIL to each other for Shang Qinghua’s sake. 

So they are. 

Mobei-Jun tries not to make any scary moves around the soft human. 

Luo Jiahui tries to act like MBJ is a normal person and to be polite. 

They are both very out of their depth. 

- 

“...Shang Qinghua saved my life,” Mobei-Jun says, which is the first time he’s spoken without someone else speaking to him first. “Many times, he has done this.”

Luo Jiahui sets down her teacup, listening expectantly.

“Even when I did not trust him, and he did not trust me, Qinghua has always provided shelter and safety,” Mobei-Jun says slowly, solemnly. “Medicine, when I have been injured. Direction, when I have been lost. Company and loyalty. This is rare.”

“Yes,” Luo Jiahui agrees.

“The trust I have put in him has never been betrayed.”

Shang Qinghua kind of feels like he’s overheating here - like maybe his heart is melting! Mobei-Jun as a character has always prized loyalty above all! “I had no fucking clue,” he thinks. “Honestly, how the FUCK did I have no fucking clue?! Hindsight is incredible!”

“I would not betray him,” Mobei-Jun says, looking to Shang Qinghua directly. “My life has been his since the day we met.”

Shang Qinghua tries not to melt even more. Mobei-Jun is supposed to be an ice demon! What the hell is this?! It’s unfair! It’s embarrassing! It’s too much!

“...Good,” Luo Jiahui says, determinedly. “I’m happy to hear that. My hard-working brother needs someone to appreciate and cherish him.”

“Yes.”

- 

AN: Mobei-Jun is like, “Humans use words. I need to use words. I need to be direct about this because humans are bad at understanding things.” 

And Luo Jiahui is like, “Oh my, you are very intense. Okay.” 

- 

Mobei-Jun nods. “I did not think a human would ever care for a demon child.”

Luo Jiahui frowns a little. “Oh?”

“I admire this,” Mobei-Jun amends, frowning back. “I do not know how humans are raised. It is good that your child has never had to doubt his safety here.”

“...Of course.”

“It is clear that your child is loved beyond his bloodline.”

“Of course,” Luo Jiahui insists, with an offended note in her voice. “When I found Binghe in that river, I didn’t know he was part demon, but I would have taken him in anyway! Whoever the parent is, whatever the parent has done, it’s never the baby’s fault. Even if a parent has done something wrong, then babies shouldn’t suffer for it. All children should be cherished.”

Luo Jiahui’s voice breaks a little, her eyes turning wet. Shang Qinghua fumbles for a handkerchief to offer his sister-in-law, which she accepts gratefully.

He wonders if she’s thinking about her stillborn baby. She doesn’t talk about her other baby very often, but she does sometimes. She told him once that she observes that day. It’s something that she insists on doing alone.

“...I was left in the human world as a young child,” Mobei-Jun says.

Shang Qinghua’s head snaps up. He knows that, but that’s because he wrote that. He has never, ever heard Mobei-Jun talk about it before.

“Oh, no,” Luo Jiahui says.

“I was nearly killed by humans,” Mobei-Jun informs them.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Luo Jiahui says.

“It was my uncle’s doing. He wishes to see me dead.” Mobei-Jun says this like it’s just another fact of life, not even an upsetting one, which kind of makes it one of the saddest fucking things that Shang Qinghua has ever heard the man say.

“That’s terrible,” Luo Jiahui says vehemently. “How rotten.”

Mobei-Jun blinks at her. His expression is still solemn, but the pause seems surprised.

Shang Qinghua almost wants to shrug. Yep, his sister-in-law is just like this!

“I have promised Qinghua that I will protect your son,” Mobei-Jun says to her. “I make you the same promise now.”

“...Thank you.”

- 

AN: Mobei-Jun is like, “I understand you to be one of the rare humans who is not a piece of shit and who would have saved me as a child. I respect this. I don’t fucking understand it, but I understand you should be protected and that your child should be protected. I am doing this for Shang Qinghua and not because I have any personal issues surrounding the endangerment of demon children.” 

Luo Jiahui is like, “Oh, he’s soft inside! He’ll protect my Binghe. Okay, I like him now. I didn’t want to, but anyone who basically professes to be willing to die for my child and my brother has my reluctant approval.” 

- 

Shang Qinghua can’t help it. The energy in here is so weird! He laughs.

“My king, have you had that all this time?”

Mobei-Jun doesn’t say anything, he just frowns.

“Clearly he was waiting to return it in person, Houhua,” Luo Jiahui admonishes. “It’s not his fault that you took so long introducing us or surely he would have returned it sooner. Don’t make it out to be impolite.”

Mobei-Jun gives Shang Qinghua’s sister-in-law an approving look.

- 

AN: Mobei-Jun is like, “Oh, she’s smarter than Qinghua. Good. (Not that my Shang Qinghua isn’t very clever, but he’s an idiot.)” 

- 

And sometimes it’s just nice to take a minute to sit back, relax, and see his disciples daring their shidi, his fellow transmigrator, to chug the spiciest soup on the menu.

“Ah, kids,” Shang Qinghua says to Luo Jiahui.

Luo Jiahui is making a very concerned expression as her sisters, Shang Qinghua’s head disciples, and even Liu Mingyan chant: “Chug! Chug! Chug!” Yeah, he should probably stop them! But why would he? If anyone throws up from this, he’ll just appear out of nowhere to scare the shit out of all of them and then make them clean it up. It’s fine. He says as much to Luo Jiahui.

“They’re old enough to know better,” she says, but she looks fond now. “Their shifu should have taught them better manners, hm?”

“Hey! Only… four of those are mine.”

- 

AN: Friends for Shen Yuan! Friends for Shen Yuan! 

Also SQH being like, “Oh, fuck, I really have too many kids.” 

- 

Luo Jiahui sighs wistfully. “It is nice having children in here again, even big ones who are supposed to be adults now. I’m so proud of how Binghe has grown, but I miss when he was little. I miss when I could pick him up and carry him around. Uncle Han’s daughter brought her new baby in yesterday. He was so cute!”

“Aha, don’t steal a baby to fill the empty nest, please!”

Luo Jiahui swats him. “I wouldn’t do something like that!” she insists, cheeks flushing pink.

- 

AN: Baby?! Baby for Luo Jiahui and Liu Qingge?! Maybe!