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seanchaidh7 · 1 year

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Art inspired by the lovely fic written by @aphroditestummyrolls Joe in the garden bathed in sunlight with freckles!!! I couldn't resist ❤️ Prints

#the old guard #joe & nicky #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #my art #kaysanova #kaysanova art #fic rec #old guard fic

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nerdsandthelike · 6 months

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❌What WIP do you find the most challenging? Why?

💗Is there a scene you can’t wait to write for a WIP?

Tell me things about your braaaaaaiiiiin lol ^_^

Hi, it's been a month and I showed back up in my inbox but i know you still love me, so I'm going to answer them anyway

(I also do not want to do work, and that's my other option)

Let's see... most challenging. *goes and looks through my WIP folder* So they're all hard for different reasons. Most of them are just difficult because they got too big and now I have to actually do the writing. But the two that feel hardest for other reasons are my Old Guard canon divergence where Joe's wife dies at Jerusalem and comes back alongside Joe and Nicky. I love this character, I love this fic, but sending the characters on a multi-decade roadtrip in the 12th century requires SO MUCH research. The other challenging one is my Old Guard high school AU. I've published some of it, but there's a longer Joe/Nicky fic that started it all that I decided to do in 6 different POVs and non-chronological. I stand by that choice, but the editing on that for cohesion alone is a nightmare.

As for a scene I can't wait to write... honestly I mostly just skip around and write that scene because I lack self control. But I have started a sort of parallel fic to my Eliot has a daughter Leverage AU wherein Parker Acquires a Child and the OT3 adopt him. And I know that for the kid's 18th birthday, they're going to take him on his first Real Heist. I think it is going to be SO FUN to write. Whenever I get there.

#i'm having a social experience!#nerds writes #fic writing #leverage fic #old guard fic #let's go steal a tv show #the old guard

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flawedamythyst · 4 months

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I started a modern AU Old Guard fic in Feb 2021 in which, a few chapters in, Nicky starts learning Arabic on Duolingo.

'You know what,' I thought, naively, 'I'll just do the first few lessons myself so I can use some of the sillier sentences from it in the fic.'

Just under 3 years later, I have just completed all levels of Duolingo Arabic on Legendary. The fic, while nudging at 100k words, is still not finished. I believe there is one brief reference to Duolingo in it.

It's a bloody hard won reference though.

#the old guard #my fic #the things we do for fandom #very important to note I can't at all speak Arabic now #but I can translate maybe 50 very specific phrases #if they are written in the exact font Duolingo uses

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zairaalbereo · 6 months

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When he was young, Joe cast a spell to fall in love with an impossible man to make sure he would never fall in love at all…

But the spell found its goal, and when years later magic brings trouble to Joe’s door, it also brings Detective Nicolò di Genova.

It’s the spooky season once more and so it’s time to rewatch one of my favourite movies. Luckily for me, @gallifreyburning is also writing an amazing Practical Magic TOG AU:

a love even time will lie down and be still for

Read it, it’s beautiful! I can’t wait to see it finished.

#the old guard #tog fanart #the old guard fanart #tog au #fic rec #joe x nicky #joe/nicky #kaysanova #immortal husbands #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #my art

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youssefguedira · 9 days

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i dont know when ill get around to writing the larger fic this is part of but you know brain worms have this

Nicky offers to pick him up at the airport like it’s nothing, like it hasn’t been almost ten years since they saw each other, because he knows Joe hates planes and won’t want to try and navigate the two trains and two buses it’ll take to actually reach their hometown after the flight. And Joe doesn’t even try to protest, just texts him Thank you before he gets on the plane and then tries not to think about it for the entire flight. He fails.

When he arrives he’s exhausted, because it never really gets easier no matter how many times he does it. Moves through the airport like a zombie, operating mostly on muscle memory. He hasn’t been here in a long time. Still knows it well enough to navigate without really thinking about it.

His suitcase is one of the last to come through on the carousel, but it does come through, and then he’s walking to arrivals with his heart in his throat.

Nicky’s hanging back from the crowd, hands in his pockets. His hair is a little longer now, and at some point in the last decade he’s gotten his ears pierced, which Joe didn’t know. He’s wearing a dark green sweater and blue jeans. When he catches sight of Joe he smiles, small and restrained, straightens slightly.

“Hey,” he says as Joe gets closer, voice soft.

Joe has to swallow. “Hey,” he says hoarsely.

And he doesn’t even need to say anything else, because Nicky pulls him into a hug before Joe even has to ask, and Joe buries his face in Nicky’s neck and tries to breathe around the sob catching in his throat. One of Nicky’s hands comes up to cup the back of Joe’s neck, his thumb moving back and forth gently, and Joe is fragile enough that that gesture alone almost undoes him.

Nicky pulls back first. Smiles at Joe. “You look good,” he says.

Joe has to swallow before he trusts himself to speak. “You too.”

They linger just a moment longer, Nicky’s hand still on the back of Joe’s neck. Ten years ago, Joe would’ve kissed him; now there’s a gap neither of them quite know how to fill.

Finally, Nicky steps back fully, and Joe feels the loss of contact sharply. “We should go,” Nicky says. Joe nods, and follows him out of the terminal.

The car Nicky heads for is the same battered old thing he’s been driving since he got his licence. Joe wonders to himself how the car is even still going, and the look Nicky gives him tells him he knows exactly what Joe’s thinking.

It does something funny to Joe’s heart. He looks away, and gets in the car.

“I brought you something to eat,” Nicky says before he starts the car, reaching for the bag by Joe’s feet.

“You didn’t have to–” Joe begins, but Nicky cuts him off with a knowing almost-smile.

“You hate plane food,” Nicky says, “and it’s almost two, and the other option would be whatever we can find on the way. I thought you might prefer this to service station food.”

It makes Joe want to cry a little. “Nicky,” he says, and can’t manage anything else.

Nicky seems to understand. He pulls out what he had been looking for - a silver thermos, and a fork - and hands it to Joe. The contents are still warm when Joe opens it: pasta, warm and comforting.

“Good?” Nicky asks, watching him.

Joe nods. “Good.”

“Okay.” Nicky looks at him for a beat longer, then turns away and starts the car.

There’s a moment of delay before the CD player starts up, but when it does, Joe knows it from the opening note: he bought Nicky this CD from a thrift store the summer before he left for university, when they’d taken off for two weeks, just them and the car and the road. And there’s no chance that Nicky’s kept it in his car for ten years, but as they leave the airport and turn onto the motorway it makes it feel like they’ve done this a thousand times before, even though Nicky never picked him up from the airport when he came home, only met him at the station once or twice.

Joe finishes the pasta and tucks the thermos back in the bag. “Thank you,” he says, and it comes out a lot quieter than he means it to.

Nicky glances at him. “We’re still a few hours away, if you want to try and sleep. I will wake you when we’re almost there.”

Joe might protest under other circumstances, but the flight was long, and he doesn’t sleep well on planes anyway. So he takes off his scarf and folds it into a makeshift pillow before leaning back and closing his eyes. Nicky drums his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat, hums along with the tune, and Joe lets the sound of his voice and the tapping of the rain on the window wrap around him like a blanket, carrying him off to sleep.

----------

Joe wakes to Nicky shaking his shoulder gently. “We’ll be there soon,” he’s saying. The rain has stopped; the radio is on, now, chattering in the way in the background. They’ve left the motorway behind for a much narrower road. Joe has to blink a few times before he catches sight of a sign and realises what Nicky means.

He sits up. The position he’d been sleeping in hadn’t been great for his back or his neck, and he’ll probably regret it soon, but he’d slept a lot better than he might’ve expected.

Being back always makes the rest of his life feel like a dream, like he’d never left at all. When the sign for their town passes Joe sits up, panic coiling in his stomach. He’s had days to prepare himself and still isn’t ready.

“Wait,” he says when they turn a corner two streets away from Joe’s parents’ house, “Nicky. Wait.”

“What?” Nicky asks. He doesn’t stop, but he does slow down.

“I can’t– I can’t do this.”

Now Nicky does stop, pulling into a lay-by. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, I just. Not yet. I need time.”

Nicky looks at him for a long moment. “When are they expecting you?”

“I didn’t give an exact time. Just sometime this afternoon.” He’d told his sister Nicky was coming to get him over the phone; she hadn’t said anything, but the silence had been enough.

Nicky doesn’t say anything, but he’s got the look on his face that means he’s thinking.

“I’ll be okay by myself,” Joe says then. “If you need to work.”

Nicky shakes his head. “I have today off.” And then, before Joe can really think about that, he turns the car around and heads back the way they came. This time, he recognises the path Nicky’s taking almost immediately, turning away from the area Joe’s parents live in and towards the outskirts of town, where it starts to become mostly farmland.

“I can park the car by my uncle’s house,” Nicky says, glancing at Joe. “Then we can go from there.”

Joe doesn’t need to ask where; they’ve walked the same route so many times he could probably do it in his sleep.

The sheep are out in the fields by Nicky’s uncle’s house, but he doesn’t see any of the lambs yet, though they must be coming soon. Nicky’s uncle let Joe try and help with lambing once, up until the point where Joe saw what exactly that entailed, and immediately lost his nerve. But he’d still let him help Nicky feed them every year.

There’s a little paved yard outside the farmhouse, where Nicky parks the car before grabbing the bag that had been by Joe’s feet. “I’m going to drop these off,” Nicky says. “You can come in, if you want?”

Nicky’s aunt and uncle have always been kind to Joe, but they will inevitably ask about his father, and Joe cannot quite bring himself to talk about that, not yet.

“I’ll wait,” Joe says.

It’s a few minutes before Nicky reappears, this time without the bag, but carrying a different thermos. He smiles apologetically as he jogs over. “I didn’t mean to make you wait long,” Nicky says. “But you know how they are.”

All Joe can do is nod. Nicky sets off down the path towards the woods that border the farm and Joe falls into step beside him. They don’t talk much on the way there, but they don’t need to: the silence is comfortable enough.

It’ll be spring soon. It’s cold but not cold enough to be uncomfortable, and the snowdrops are in full bloom, bright shards of white in the grass. The rain has stopped, but the smell of it still hangs in the air. They must’ve spent hours walking this path, enough that Joe doesn’t really need to look to know exactly where Nicky’s going.

This part of the river is just secluded enough that he can’t hear cars passing by anymore. The bench by the path is still there, though at some point they’ve built a shelter over it, which probably leaks but has kept it dry even after the rain. Nicky makes for it immediately.

If he looked at the back of the third slat from the left he’d find their names carved into the wood, side by side. Joe very deliberately doesn’t look.

Nicky sits down. Nods to the space beside him. When Joe joins him, he holds out the thermos.

“Tea,” Nicky says. “If you want.”

How many times have they done exactly this, over the years? In summer, they’d wade into the river; in winter, Joe always wanted to try skating on it, but the ice was never quite thick enough. Every time Nicky got into a fight with his father, every time Joe couldn’t bear to be in the house one second longer, they’d come here.

Joe gives into memory and rests his head on Nicky’s shoulder. Nicky brings one arm up to hold him close, hand on Joe’s upper arm.

Joe closes his eyes, listens to the birds, listens to Nicky’s breathing.

Nicky says, “When is the funeral?”

“Thursday,” Joe says. He doesn’t want to think about this, doesn’t want to think about the last conversation he had with his father, doesn’t want to imagine walking into his parents’ house and finding him gone. Of all people, Nicky will understand. It’s what brought them together when they were younger: being the only two students in their class who spoke English as a second language, and difficult fathers.

Silence falls between them, and Nicky doesn’t let him go, and Joe’s missed him, more than he really knew. He’d tried to stay in touch, and they had, for the most part, but it’s not the same as having Nicky beside him again.

Joe doesn’t think there’s anyone in this world who knows him the way Nicky does.

He doesn’t know why he says it, but they haven’t talked about it, and it feels like something they should, if only so Joe can lay this all to rest.

Joe opens his eyes. “You, uh. You seeing anyone?”

Nicky doesn’t pull away, but Joe feels the way he goes still, tense. Slowly, softly, he says, “I don’t think this is the right time, Joe.”

“Is there ever a right time?” Joe asks, half-joking.

Nicky doesn’t laugh.

Joe clears his throat. “I’m not. So.”

Nicky exhales slowly, like he’s steadying himself. His thumb moves back and forth, back and forth where it’s resting on Joe’s arm, catching on the fabric of his coat. “Me neither.”

Joe’s not sure if that’s better or worse than if Nicky had said he’d found someone. If he had, perhaps Joe could put to rest the little part of him that will always be in love with Nicky. Not get rid of it entirely, but fold it away in a little corner of his heart and leave it there. This, though – this is possibility he doesn’t know what to do with.

“How long are you here?” Nicky asks quietly, moving his hand up to run his fingers through Joe’s hair, like he used to whenever Joe needed something to keep him grounded.

“I got two weeks off work,” Joe says. “After that I don’t know.”

Two weeks feels monumentally long and yet vanishingly short at the same time. And after?

They don’t talk about much after that. Small talk, more than anything else: Nicky’s still living in the same apartment, still working the same job, but Joe knows he loves it from the tone of his voice when he talks about the shelves he built for his most recent client, how he’s starting to make more of his own stuff, how his boss has been talking about retiring and leaving the whole business to Nicky. Joe could listen to him talk about it for hours. Maybe he does.

It settles the frantic thing that had woken in his chest when they crossed the town line, and eventually, Joe says, “I think I’m ready.”

Nicky turns his head inwards and kisses the top of Joe’s head. Lingers there for a moment. It isn’t anything; it doesn’t have to be anything.

“Okay,” Nicky says. “Okay.”

The walk back to the farm is largely silent, just as the walk there had been, passing the thermos of tea back and forth between them. They get back in the car, and Nicky drives them back to Joe’s parents’ house.

Nicky pulls up on the curb outside the house. “Call me, if you need anything. Or just– call me.”

“I will,” Joe promises. He has two weeks; he’s not going to waste them. They haven’t been in the same timezone in a long, long time.

Nicky smiles, small and hopeful, and there’s nothing really to say, after that.

Joe gets out of the car, and prepares to face his family.

#neon writes #the old guard #kaysanova #the setting and language of this one is deliberately deeply vague i don't know where it is the point is the Vibe #i call this one someone took le otto montagne 2022 a bit too personally! this is the first 'section' of this fic #there's a second part after a little time jump (not more than a year) which is what i like to call the past lives segment of this fic #anyway. enjoy #userlyde #userlinax #OH ALSO. the song is amore che vieni amore che vai #not for thematic reasons it's just the first track of ostinata e contraria #and its funny to me

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lionlena · 11 months

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☆MASTERLIST☆

Pedro Pascal

One Shot:

♡A kitchen disaster

♡Just let it go…

♡New job, new problems...

♡Just breathe

Series:

♡His Curls - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (completed)

♡Hate run, love speed - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress)

♡We don’t love each other - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 - Final (completed)

Request:

♡A perfect day for a perfect girl (It's your birthday and Pedro makes you feel loved and special all day)

Headcanon:

♡What sleeping position do they most like when you are with them? (Pedro Pascal characters)💤

♡How will they react to your makeup? (Pedro Pascal and his characters) 👁️👄💅

♡Headcanon: How do they behave when you have a migraine? (Pedro Pascal characters)🩹😴 (+ Dave and Marcus)

♡Headcanon: How will they react if you tell them about CDD? (Pedro Pascal characters) 👰💔😱🤕

♡Headcanon: Who will be ready to kill for you? From most willing to least... (Pedro Pascal characters) 🔪💀☠️🩸

♡Headcanon: How do they cook for you? (Pedro Pascal characters) 🥕🧑‍🍳🍓

Joel Miller

One Shot:

♡This is just a nightmare… (The Last of Us ff/ Joel/Ellie)

♡Strong for both of us

♡Trouble with ex

♡Dyeing your hair…

Series:

♡Unforgivable mistake, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12 (in progress)

♡I can't be everywhere (No outbreak!) Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4... (in progress)

Request:

♡You need a better place (Joel loving a girl with epilepsy)

♡Blue dress (Joel Miller x plus size!reader)

Headcanon:

♡When Joel goes limp… (JoelMillerxf!reader)🤷🍆🩹

Javier Peña

One Shot:

♡I’ll protect you… (bc you’re mine)

♡I’ll hurt you… ( bc you’re mine )

♡I’ll leave you (bc youre not mine)

♡I'll stay with you... ( bc I love you)

♡You’re hot…

♡A girl from the street

Series:

♡Dancing With Your Ghost - Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Epilogue (completed)

♡Too many shadows behind you - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (in progress)

Headcanon:

♡Nicotine (JavierPeña and You)

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels)

Series:

♡Dynasty - Part 1, Part 2, (in progress)

One Shot:

♡Mean (JackDanielsxf!reader)

Javi Gutierrez

One Shot:

♡Too hot

Frankie Morales

One Shot:

♡Lost cat

Marcus Pike

One Shot:

♡"7.44 am"

Oberyn Martell

Series:

♡Red Viper and Fox - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress, soon english version)

One Shot:

♡♕Queen's Milk

♡I Hold You

♡Remember me… (ANGST!)

The Old Guard (movie)

One Shot:

♡ Amira

♡ It hurts like hell

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paigian · 17 days

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nicolo comes back from the dead, doubting thomas fingers at his side. wound gone, blood flushed and sticky on yusuf's blade. a god-given ache deep in the place it breached him. later, he will lie awake, fingering the not-wound, a silent begging prayer on his tongue for it to return. for yusuf to open him again.

#smth smth the miracle isnt in the healing of the wound but the wound itself #the old guard #nicolo di genova #experimenting with writing bits on here instead of trying to commit to full fics

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seanchaidh7 · 1 year

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The Old Guard fic recs - its been around a year since I dove into the Old Guard fandom and wanted to share some of my favourites. Rec 1 of many - all feature Joe & Nicky bc i LOVE them

Their souls were knit together (and he loved him as himself) - by Isabelle Hemlock (isabelle_hemlock)

This was one of my first ever reads and it got me HOOKED! a wonderful crusades era fic

two men walk into a bar - by incurableromancer

Such a cute AU, I have lines from this one that have been stuck in my head for months

Beautiful Ghosts - by just_another_tinker

Such an incredible Booker focused fic that is just genius

an art to life's distractions - by raedear

So funny, so good, so hot omg

chrysalis - by liadan14

This fic is a like a warm hug, I love how the author wrote Joe and Nicky in this

#fic rec #old guard fic rec #old guard fic #the old guard #joe & nicky #kaysanova #immortal husbands

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linaxart · 4 months

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Below him is Earth, floating in an ocean of stars. The sun is just rising, lending it a kind of halo, which is a view he thinks he’s never gotten tired of. His favourite, though, is his view of the planet at night, when it’s lit by a web of man-made stars, stretching across countries and along coastlines, its cities glowing like tiny suns. Aside from the films and books he’s seen and read, sent to him every week or so, and the transmissions, it’s his only real indication that he isn’t the only person in the universe. Doesn’t alleviate the loneliness entirely, but it makes him feel just a little less isolated.

- from @youssefguedira's amazing amazing fic planet earth is blue (and there's nothing I can do) which is just so very perfect and I already love so much <3 and for @theartguard's bi-monthly theme Fic-Inspired!

#the old guard #tog fanart #tog #joe al kaysani #kaysanova #yusuf al kaysani #the old guard fanart #digital art #fanart #clip studio paint #photoshop #artists on tumblr #accessible art #yusuf al kaysani fanart #I hope you like it neon!!! i'm so sorry it took me so long akhfdak #I love your fic and i think about it So Often #just the right kind of story and so well done ;_;#demonicneonfishy

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astrabear · 3 months

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The man - middle-aged to strangers, oppressively old in his own mind, a baby to most of his friends - sat down by the woman's bedside. She was ancient by anyone's standards. He gently took her hand in his, noting the thin skin and swollen knuckles, fingers gnarled with scars. He didn't know if the strength he felt was actually in her hand or just in his memory.

"So," he said, his tone deliberately light, "I hear you yelled at Joe."

"I did."

"It's all right, he knows you didn't mean it."

"No, no I did that too." This surprised him; she could be fierce and harsh, but rarely spiteful or cruel.

"What'd he do?"

"To deserve it? Nothing."

"You said you meant it."

"I did mean it. Then. I wouldn't mean it now. I believed it, no I knew it then. But not now. Do you understand?"

"Sure, yeah, of course. You weren't feeling well. No one's upset at you." Which was true. Joe was devastated, but in a more general sense.

She clutched his hand, and he rejoiced to see that her strength was not just a memory after all. "No," she said, "not that. Do you understand?"

When he did not reply, she continued, "Being sick, it's not just pain. I forgot, and you've forgotten, but it's different. It does things to your head - "

"Andy, we know, no one blames you - "

"Let me finish. Sometimes I hate everyone who isn't sick, just because I hate being sick so much. It's a real thing, but it's not the only thing. I meant what I said when I said it, but I also love him."

"He knows that."

She let go of his hand long enough to slap it. "Idiot. I'm not talking about Joe. I'm talking about you and your son." The man seemed to stop breathing.

"If you can do it for me, you can do it for yourself and your boy. He meant what he said when he said it, when he was miserable and sick and dying. But I know now, I know that the hate and resentment weren't all he felt. It was a real thing, but not the only thing. Just like Merrick was a real thing about you, but not the only thing." She looked at him sharply, and he wondered what she saw in his face. "Will you at least think about it?"

He sighed. "I will. I promise I will."

He took her hand again, and long after she fell asleep he stayed there watching over her, both of them growing older, minute by minute, as time pressed on.

#the old guard #andromache the scythian #booker #sebastien le livre #my fic #been sick a lot myself lately #and I had some thoughts

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