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achelouise · 2 years

Text

words: around 1k

fandom: genshin impact/原神

pairing: gn reader x shikanoin heizou

warnings: VERY, VERY MESSY. IM VERY SERIOUS. my writing capabilities are ✨gone✨, but i can't be bothered to fix it anymore ahahhsw

summary: you’re a demon slayer, destined to part from your old world. but under unfortunate circumstances, a certain detective catches you in the act, demanding answers.

a/n: guess who my new favorite iSSSSSSS (im just kidding, itto is still my inazuman favorite) anyway, i’ve wanted to write this for the longest time, but i have finals rn and this… was the product. i might continue this(?) if you all want some, but i doubt it lmao

fun fact: this isn’t the first time i’ve written a genshin fanfic (tho it’s my first time writing a reader one), i actually wrote a couple of zhongchi oneshots!

side note: i nearly whaled bc i was desperate to get kazuha, but then i pulled heizou and then kazuha came right after making me win the 2nd 50/50 at 64 pity, and 36 wishes later c1 jean came i’m so hAPPY :DDD good luck on your pulls everyone!!! i hope you all get the characters you want, and i can’t wait for summer fanastia

EDIT 1: i wasn’t satisfied with how the plot was rushed, so i changed it up a bit. if you saw this after the edit, the demon originally had a wife but it progressed way too fast lmao

EDIT 2: OH MY GOD DID I NOT SAVE THE CHANGE

EDIT 3: i did not, in fact, save the change :“D i had to write it all over again, so if theres anything weird dont mind it please

In Inazuma, Kairagis, Nobushis, even the wrath of the Almighty Shogun, cannot compare to the horror that lies deep beneath.

Five hundred years ago, when rifthounds ripped open portals with their bloody claws, demons also came stumbling into Inazuman soil. Your ancestors, bruised but still willing to fight, had dashed their way into the portal, mistaking them for the demon’s art.

Their ambitions to slay demons granted them visions, but even as they were stranded in this battling world, they did not falter. They passed on their secret arts to their children, who passed it to their children, and so forth－ until the day when Muzan was purged and the demon population was wiped out, your ancestors refused to give in.

Unfortunately, so neither did demons. Though some of them went rogue, civilians always mistook them as a madman infected by the curse of Tataragami. Others, much more intelligent and corruptive, hid in secluded villages and shadows of the night.

Over centuries, the system that once belonged in the Taisho period slowly rebuilt itself with the help of many kind-hearted souls. Both slayers and demons got accustomed to this mystical world of Teyvat. They weren’t sure if Muzan was here, or any of the Upper Moons, or if Muzan had any contact with them at all, if he was in the other world.

The motive to slay Muzan slowly shifted into slaying demons in general. If Muzan were to be slain, it would be best to save those who might become victims of his subject’s hunger.

You sort of thought this was all bullshit, but something told you this was right, you did belong to another world, had paths not been strayed. It doesn’t matter, though. All that mattered was getting rid of those pesky demons, even if it costed you your life.

Like the one you’re fighting now. You’re loud and lively to a default－ but when on duty, you’re as quiet as the whispers of the wind.

You still don’t really understand how you got a Pyro vision, of all things. Perhaps it’s your short temper that always flares at the slightest inconvenience. You still think Anemo would suit you better.

You need to get rid of this little shit quickly.

“You cannot dream to wound me!” The demon hissed, prancing about as your slashes barely miss their mark. “For I am－”

“I don’t give a goddamn shit of what you once were,” You scoff. “You were a general? Great. Fantastic. You’re a demon now, and it’s my job to slay you.”

“‘Slay’? Tch. Cut the fancy talk. If you wanna kill me, just say so.”

The demon aims its deadly punches towards you, but you defend it easily with your fourth form. “Big talk for a guy who isn’t even an Upper Moon.”

“Fifth form: Flaming Tiger!”

A tiger in form of flames glows with your bright vision, slashing the monstrous face with a roar.

“Argh!” The demon screeches, and you pray no one is nearby to hear it. It’s shrill and is outright disgustingly loud.

“Fuck! How is this fair? You guys were already a nuisance, and now you all have visions!”

You pause. “Oh? So you’re from the old world?”

The demon’s breath hitches, and you grin. “Playtime’s over.”

In an blink of an eye, you dash behind the demon’s back. You force him down onto the ground. You hear bones crack, but this should be nothing for him.

He struggles with the power of a centenarian, but you’re a demon slayer, and you’re going to act like one.

“Interesting…” You mutter, as you feel the shivers of the demon vibrate against you. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard from one of you. What can you tell me about the old world?”

The demon continues to struggle, and you sigh, teasing him by pushing the blade further. It’s painted a beautiful red, crafted from only the best swordsmen. Its blade shines under the moonlight, begging to be coated with the red of bloodshed.

It would get the chance. “Never let an enemy go”, your father always reminded.

You hum. “It’s a fair trade, isn’t it? You give me some info, reminisce, and I let you go.”

You feel the saliva that’s spat on your face, but you don’t flinch. The demon scoffs below you.

“As if I’d believe that. You slayers will never, ever let go of their targets, even at the cost of their own lives.”

Now that sounded a little too much like your father, and your eyes narrow.

No way.

“Were you, by a chance, a slayer?”

The demon says nothing, but the remorse and regret that coats his eyes a misty red tells as much. A horrible, sinking feeling pools deep in your gut.

Suddenly, he feels too human, too alive.

In your emotional turmoil, you move forward, pressing your blade further so it scratches the skin. A line of blood flows out, and the demon finally lets a peak of fear overwhelm him.

“I- it’s a place without gods or ghosts and shit!” The demon spews out despite your surprise, “I- I could’ve integrated into human society if it weren’t for you all, a- and technology was much more advanced then－”

“Cut the crap. Same wimp, same responses.” You tut, masking the surprise with a scowl. You would make fun of him if it wasn’t a reoccurring sight.

To be honest, you’re not sure if you wouldn’t drop everything for the sake of your own life.

“Say ‘Muzan’.”

For a moment, there is silence. The dread the demon feels is almost contagious; you almost feel your own heart beat widely because of it.

The demon flailed around. “No! No! I refuse－”

“Would you rather die at your master’s hands, a dutiful and loyal servant, or die at the hands of a crybaby?”

“Damn you, you witch－”

Someone’s here.

The wind tells you such. It isn’t a slayer, or a demon. It’s a normal civilian.

Well. Time to put this conversation to a rest.

You slice the demon’s head off with one, clean strike, pick it up and begin racing off.

Shit, you knew it was a bad idea to fight near Konda Village!

Concentrate. Let the wind take over your feet.

Total concentration breathing (or something along the lines, you couldn’t have bothered to remember) works well for situations like these.

Cradled between your arms, the demon recovers from his shock and begins to scream. At least it doesn’t seem to regenerate.

You race through forests and hillsides. It is until you are near the beaches just near Konda Village that you put the head down on the sandy coastline.

The waves gentle pushes the head.

You kneel before its disintegrating figure. He has a rather strong soul; though in the face of eternal hell, he refuses to curse or submit into his tears.

Unfortunately, it will get him almost nowhere.

Fuck. Masking sympathy was never your strong suit.

“You were once human too, were you not?” You ask.

“Big surprise.” The demon scoffs.

You furrow your eyebrows.

Every being deserves some form of closure. Sometimes, it was your personal job to make sure for them to depart from this world with certainty, and without doubt.

“You lived to save, to slay demons once. What happened?” You pressed on.

The demon pauses. “I… I don’t remember.”

You sigh. “It’s okay.”

(They hardly ever do. The lucky ones remember, just before the brink of death.)

A man that lived years beyond the war of Khaenri’ah, and continued to be fearful of the sun for many, many moons.

“You suffered for a long time, haven’t you?” You mutter.

Silence befalls them, for just a while. You hear the ocean’s beckoning.

“I killed people.” The demon reminds, as if it was in disbelief of your gentle approach. You can’t blame him. It was such a large contrast to your near sadistic nature on the battlefield. “I tore their flesh and threw away their bones. I－ I couldn’t control it.”

“I know.” You sigh. “And I will never forgive you for that. But still… it still have had to hurt.”

You can’t imagine the pain some of the demons went through. Damn it, the cruelty of your blade and the pity of your words were so different. You wish you could just stick to one side.

It almost always gave you backlash during the first few times you slayed someone. The difference when they’re still alive and running and when they’re dying is outright frightening. Then again, their memories never truly return to them until they are at the brink of death, do they?

You’re far too flexible. Even the most evil people give you a sense of hope of their redemption, and long as they’re nice.

You really need to change that mentality.

“What’s your name?” You ask. It’s common courtesy for you, and you only.

(It’s a blatant excuse, but you ignore the truth.)

“My name…? Sato. Akira Sato. That’s right… I was named after my mother’s wisdom.”

You snort despite yourself. Wisdom? Bullshit. “Sorry.”

The demon didn’t react to it. “Hm. I never wanted to fight. It was… just part of the family. I wanted…”

The demon trails off, and his eyes shift away. “I don’t deserve to want.”

“No, you don’t.” You agree.

“Do you think… there is peace, in hell?”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

Sato laughs, as his face disintegrates until his mouth remains. It’s hoarse and small and vulnerable, and you hate it.

“Hm.” You murmer. You’re not sure whether to give him false hope or not. “May you condemn for your sins in hell, Mr. Sato.”

“Heh.” Sato chuckles, as only his mouth remains. “I wonder if I will be back to my old world, or drown in the Abyss…?”

It pains you, to see a person converted be ruined a chance of another life. Your fist clenched at the hatred you harbor for Muzan. “Rest assured, Mr. Sato. Muzan will join you soon.”

“That’s not really an assurance.” Sato mutters. “But thank you. …Ah, I couldn’t see the sunrise with her… What a shame… heh…”

The last bit of Sato fades into the first rays of dawn, and you stand up.

Akira Sato… you’re not sure if records surviving of him still exist, but you still have time to set up a grave for him.

You have always made graves for those you slayed. There are no bodies or cremated ashes to bury, but your memory will always linger. And that, in a way, is a sort of eternity that the Shogun wishes to pursuit, is it not?

You sigh, but your voice sharpens. “Show yourself. I know you’ve been watching.”

The bushes refuse to make a sound, and you have to give credit for the eavesdropper. “Really?” You snap.

A slow, amused chuckle comes from the man emerging from the bushes. You recognize it almost immediately. You’ve heard it during the capture of criminals, when you were still sneaking in and out in the middle of the night.

“Most people here are really dense. Just one look and they erase their suspicions. But I suppose you are an exception?”

You grin despite the panic. You’ve never been caught before. “I could say the same for you, Detective Shikanoin.”

The man’s smile is friendly, but his gaze is sharp and demands answers. The sun is rising already, and killing an innocent witness would be both heavily against your morals and a hassel.

He crosses his arms. “Let’s take this discussion somewhere else, shall we?”

thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed this mess lol

Part 2 :D

#demon slayer #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin heizou #heizou x y/n #heizou x reader #heizou x you

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frecklystars · 8 months

Note

Yknow even if it was really hard I’m really proud of you for being able to draw Starscream after a while. Having Plankton be there as a bridge to doing it was a really smart move. I def think you’re making a lot of progress! :)

oh my god 😭😭😭😭 anon thank you. im a fucking mess rn but, ugh thank you so much. thank you. indeed it very very hard!!! and i feel stupid for having these reactions, i know its an anxiety disorder and i cant control it, but still. i feel so dumb when i have a meltdown or when i get triggered. but i think this is the first time since ive been traumatized that ive actually been able to make some vent art about it... getting that out of my brain and off my chest was a big relief. i used to make vent art all the time before i left and before everything happened. my feelings eat away at me if i don't draw it out, and i think a big part of me feeling like im not healing is bc for the longest time i didn't have any f/os to make vent art with. im hoping the vent art of stsc will eventually turn into fluffy ship art again, even if it takes a super long time im trying so hard to get there and i appreciate you recognizing that

what you said is very comforting. i like how you phrased that, using plankton as a bridge. it felt so so so so SO much easier to imagine starlight missing me if i used plankton as his place of focus, which would make him also my place of focus. maybe i cannot yet fully believe starscream looking at me and saying "i love you, you know that right?" but i can somewhat believe him turning to somebody else that i love just as intensely, and saying "i love her, she knows that, right?" it definitely felt less intimidating to approach it that way and im really touched that you took the time to notice this. i want to rewire my brain into believing that he's someone safe, that everyone in TF is safe. i don't want my fear to be permanent and it's so frustrating trying to conquer this, it's like running laps around the sun, feels impossible and exhausting

thank you for telling me that youre proud of me. im not good at being gentle on myself when my ptsd is triggered and this has been a really, really, really difficult week in regards to that... i mean it's been nonstop flashbacks all week and i dont know if/when my life is ever going to get back to normal. but if you think im making progress, and you believe it enough to take the time out of your day to tell me... then you must be seeing something that i cannot. so i will take your word for it. i am making progress. i appreciate you. i love you and wish good things for you ❤

#anonymous #asks #keepsake #ptsd

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crowning-art · 1 year

Text

TGCF SPOILERS

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

How I'm feeling regarding the entirety of what I have read so far:

THAT IS WHAT THE RUNNING THEME OF THIS BOOK IS T-T LOSING MY MIND RN LIKE THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT EVERYONE NEEDS!! JUST. ONE. PERSON!

Xie Lian said, quite matter-of-factly, “Didn’t you ask me to believe you? I believe you. That’s it.”

ANOTHER THEME AHHHHHH LITERALLY CANNOT CONTAIN MYSELF RN

Me saving you is just me following my own principles, that’s all,” Xie Lian replied.

HE SAID IT!!! I saw a lot of art and stuff about this and I finally got to read it! It was so sweet thoo lmao Feng xin is so savage tho

Feng Xin piped up. “You said it yourself, you very much wanted to be His Highness’ f-f-friend!

LMAOOOO MU QING HERE!! My man here really said ya, so plan A is DIE and forgot there are 25 more letters of the alphabet 😂

Mu Qing was so full of spirit earlier, but now his face paled. He raised his palms, closing his eyes, looking as if he was going to smash through his own skull first before he got burnt to death, so he could die more straightforwardly.

Xie Lian hastily cried, “WAITWAITWAITWAIT DON’T YOU BE RASH! I-I-I-I-I’VE GOT A PLAN!”

Mu Qing opened his eyes again. “WHAT PLAN?

CRYING IN THE CLUB!! I MISSED THE IDIOT TRIO SO MUCH!! THEY BONDING AGAIN T-T I can't nobody touch me rn I am SOOOO emotional rn

Loool them going from this:

“Will you both not air out each other’s dirty laundry at a time like this? What’s the point in hurting each other…”

To this:

Sweat rolled down Xie Lian’s forehead and he looked back. “Wait a sec, there’s no need to air mine out either?

Goushi leaves NO survivors lmaooo, def my fave dude ever

“I’m sure there’s at least a million vicious ghosts that have paid a visit to Mount Tong'lu,” Mu Qing said.

“DON’T INTERRUPT!” Guoshi exclaimed.

he ascended??? HUA CHENG ASCENDED?!?!? LOSING MY MIND (again) CUZ HE ASCENDED FOLLOWING XIE LIAN'S PRINCIPLES DJDNFJJF I CANT BELIEVE IT OH MY GOOOD

Literal chills at the whole battle going on but especially....

Since every one of Jun Wu’s strikes were aiming straight for Hua Cheng’s right eye!

NO ROUYE!!!

I WILL CRY NOOO PLEASE IM NOT SURE HOW MANY MORE DEATHS I CAN HANDLE PLZ NO ROUYE COME BACK

I-

“Xianle, did you actually believe that something like being pierced by the sword is something I have less experience in than you? Did you think I would care?”

Damnnnn I have no words

WTF?!?! DUDE JUN WU WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?? OH MY GOD?? I LITERALLY WANT TO PUT MY HAND IN THE BOOK AND MAKE HIM STOP

Jun Wu was expressionless, but his hand was ramming Xie Lian into the rocks like crazy, asking him repeatedly: “Does it hurt? Does it hurt?”

Guoshi exclaimed, “Your Highness!!!”

But, who knows who he was calling for.

AND THEN UGH WHAT A ROLLERCOASTER!! THIS!! IT'S JUST LIKE THE SCENE WITH THE STABBINGBSJDJDJDJF oh my God EXCEPT NOW HE KNOWS WHO HE IS AND IS CONFIDENT IN HIMSELF AND ITS NOT THE SAME AS BEFORE AND I WILL CRY OR SCREAM OR SMT AHHHHHHHHHHGHDHFJ

Xie Lian’s bloody hands pushed against the uneven surface of the rocky wall, gritting his teeth as he roared, “…IT HURTS!!!”

“WILL YOU CHANGE? WILL YOU CHANGE? WILL YOU CHANGE??”

It was as if Xie Lian had gone mad too, and he gripped Jun Wu’s arms, roaring, “I WON’T! I WON’T! I WON’T CHANGE!!!”

Even though the smashing was making him see stars, incomparably painful, he held this breath in stubbornly, refusing to give the desired answer at all, and cried out as he roared. “I JUST WON’T CHANGE! EVEN IF IT’S PAINFUL I WON’T CHANGE, EVEN IF I DIE I WON’T CHANGE, I WILL NEVER CHANGE!!!”

I'm just..... I cant....I love Xie Lian so much..this dude deserves the whole world and I'm just so emotional and proud of how far he's come and who he is as a person and he STILL Goss through trials and tribulations but look at how strong he stays in mind, body, and soul and the-

That!

But Hua Cheng gripped his shoulders. “So what? They’re just millions of fools, they’re all useless trash! But for you, one person is enough!”

One person was enough?

Xie Lian hadn’t yet wrapped his head around it before Hua Cheng pulled him close.

Xie Lian’s eyes widened.

Spiritual power exploded and rushed in.

Those two bands of fetters, that had constrained him for eight hundred years, had burst and shattered!

THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I HAVE BEEN SAYING HUA CHENG IT'S JUST ONE PERSON U NEED

Also

IF SMT HAPPENS TO HUA CHENG I PROMISE YOU I WILL ABSOLUTELY BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF JUN WU I SWEAR TO GOD I CANT BELIEVE THIS HAPPENED

but the way the power of love is what helped them win lmao

BUT I DONT HAVE A GOOD FEELING ABOUT THIS RN I CANT I AM SO EMOTIONAL FOR SO MANY DIFFERENT REASONS I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS SCENE BUT I CANT SEEM TO SAY ANYTHING AAHHH

#tian guan ci fu #tgcf #heaven’s official blessings #heaven's official blessings spoilers #xie lian #hua cheng #tgcf spoilers #tgcf journey #ch 235-239

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legobatjoker · 2 years

Note

UM OKAYS IT 3 AM !!!! IV LRY RLY GOTTA GO TO SLEEP YK its so late i told myselfi wldnt make a habit of going ot lseep at 3 am and yet here we are !! -__- so ya i gotta get to sleep but beofre i do i rly do just wanna say that i love you so so much luce i rly rly do so very much :'> !! i rly did have so much fun vcing with you today like it rly was so lovley to watch tsonts together and to talk with you nd like j to chat hear ur thoughts on stuff nd hear ur voice nd spend time with you it rly was such an amazing time nd im rly rly glad we got the chance to esp w u leaving for ur art progam tmrw and like. i lry am going to miss u sm when ur gone nd miss calling with you but like still will look forward to sm messeging u nd sending u asks whenever i can nd like. i rly hope you know like how much you mean to me mx and like how much. you really do make my life so so much better like whenever we talk when we vc or message or send each other asks its always so so just wonderful and makes my life so much better and warmer nd happier nd brings me sm joy to me you really really do like just talking with you and sharing things with you hearing abt ur life nd ur thoughts on tihngs and just knowing you and being ur friend rly rly is always so so wonderful mx it rly rly is and just make my life sm better youre rly just such an incredblie presence in my life and such a wonderful friend to me who treats me w sm kindness nd care nd is so good to me and just makes me feel so so lvoed and cared for and safer and at home with you and i rly rly hope to do the same for you so so much mx i rly rly do beucase oyu deserve it soos much nc bc i just rly want to amke you happy mx nd make ur life better nd make u feel loved nd cared for bc like. i just love you so so much and you really do mean the whole world to me lucy you really really do :'> i hope your days been good and that you sleep well tonight w many sweet dreams nd tht your course starts well tmrw nd yea ilusm my butterfly *hugs you rly rly close if thts okay* 💕💕💞💞🌸🐞🦋💞💞🌹🌼💌🍓✨

yah vcing+watching tsonts today was so fun and im so so glad we got the chance to and !! ;;;; im really gonna miss you too and miss vcing sm but i do really look forward to the messaging the asks the all of the other stuff and like you said like yeah just really being your friend is sososoooo wonderful and im really truly so very very glad that i can be that for you too and make your life better in those ways and yah j make you feel that way and feel ssafe and stuff cuz you always make me feel sososooo supported and understood and thank you so so much for ur kind words and wishes ab the course yah it rlly is so comforting and !! just yah being ur friend and knowing you always makes me feel so loved and cared for and stuff and i want you to know how much i rlly do love and care for you so so much and wanna make sure u j know that and that yah ill miss u but i always love u sm !!!! and hope u r sleeping so well rn!!;; 💕💕❤️💕💕‼️‼️💕💕❤️‼️‼️‼️‼️💕❤️❤️‼️‼️

#mewtuals #castle.answers #wahhh ilysmmm

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dysfunctionalcrab · 3 years

Text

babysitter

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

description: george is left to babysit your niece

warnings: mentions of a future family? just in case that makes you uncomfortable.

[y/n/n] - your nieces name

[y/s/n] - your siblings name (gender neutral too)

note: i’m not too sure about this imagine, please a like or reply if you actually enjoyed! - niss

you woke up to the sound of your alarm blasting your ear off, if you hadn’t turned it off right there you probably would have gone deaf.

george was sleeping like a baby beside you, you could hear his quiet snores. you were surprised he didn’t wake up to the sound of your ear-piercing alarm.

turning on your phone, you glanced at the time that read 12:30. you sighed in annoyance as you registered that you only had half an hour before you had to be on your way to university. so you got up and began your normal morning routine, brush your teeth, shower, have breakfast and finally get dressed. however, as you were packing your bag, almost ready to go, you received a notification from your [sibling]

[y/s/n]: we’re 5 minutes away!!!

[y/s/n]: thank you so much for agreeing to do this :)

fuck.

it completely slipped your mind. you had promised to take care of [y/n/n] for today, your 7 year old niece, while your [sibling] was at their job interview. regardless, you texted them a quick ‘no problem’ before rushing upstairs to wake up george.

he was still sleeping, but now he was completely hiding under the covers with one arm sticking out. you hated to interrupt his beauty sleep but this was more important. you began to shake him awake.

“babe,” you shook him

“wake up,”

“george,” you removed the covers off his face

“wake the fuck up!” you started poking his sides. usually, you would be a little less... harsh, but you were panicking.

finally the boy rose from his slumber, groaning and stretching all his limbs. he blinked a couple times before meeting your eyes

“good morning,” he said softly, as if he completely just disregarded your tone of desperation and worry.

you pulled him by his arm and he sat upright,

“you need to get up right now,” you told him

“what’s going on?” he questioned, clearly confused as you weren’t giving him any context

“you need to take care of [y/n/n] for today, i have classes today, and i need to leave in 5 minutes and [y/s/n] has a job interview and there’s nobody else to take care of her,” you rushed out all in once sentence.

“are you serious?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “you know how bad i am with kids, especially [y/n/n] , she hates me,”

that was partly true. unfortunately, your niece wasn’t exactly fond of george. ever since you even started dating,m, [y/n/n] acted cold towards your boyfriend, it only got worse when you moved in with him. she always refused to play a game if george was going to participate, or never accepted any high fives or hellos from him. you felt sympathy for george. this child despised him and now you were asking him to look after her.

“please, i’m begging you,” you looked at him with pleading eyes. his eyes softened up after recognising the urgency of the situation.

“fine,” he agreed. you sighed out of satisfaction that you didn’t have to stress out [y/s/n] over finding a new baby sitter.

“thank you so much,” you pressed a small kiss to his lips appreciatively.

right at that moment, you two heard the doorbell ring. you urged george to get ready as fast as he could while you went down stairs and greeted your [sibling] and your niece.

“auntie/uncle [y/n]!” [y/n/n] yelled as you opened the door, immediately rushing into your arms. she looked a lot taller than the last time you saw her

“how’s my favourite girl?” you picked her up and swung her, before placing a little kiss on her head

you gave your [sibling] a quick hug. they handed you a bag full of toys, teddies and colouring pens, along with a spare set of clothing just in case [y/n/n] got a little messy throughout the day. and some quick reminders about her favourite foods or how to get her stop crying. you’d looked after her before, so all of it was pretty familiar to you

“again, thank you so, so much, you have no idea how much you’re helping me.” they told you. your [sibling] gave [y/n/n] a kiss on the cheek and told her to be a ‘good and kind little girl’ before finally exiting the household.

george, at last, made his way down. wearing a decent pair of jeans and a hoodie, giving an awkward wave to [y/n/n]

you checked the time and knew you had to get going. you had to explain to her that uncle george was going to be the one looking after her today. and after one whole tantrum, you managed to convince her to be a good girl by promising to give her a big reward afterward.

finally, you kissed [y/n/n] and george a goodbye , then shut the front door behind you.

george and [y/n/n] stood opposite each other. there was an uncomfortable silence in the air. george felt so...he didn’t even know. what do you say to a child who hates you? [y/n/n] tightly clutched her bag of toys.

“so, [y/n/n],” george cleared his throat, he bent down to her level. “i hear you like toy story?”

[y/n/n] pouted “i don’t like you” she said, and stomped away.

george sighed. this was going to be a long day.

and it was.

it started off with [y/n/n] innocently using her colouring pens and drawing random things, you know, as children do. but when she ran out of paper, she made her way to your office, where all your uni work was. she grabbed the closest piece of paper that was sitting on your desk, deciding it was going to be the next canvas for her art. this paper just happened to be a very important assignment.

when george caught her in the act, he had to physically tear her away from your office, in defiance of all her kicking and screaming.

then, when george accidently left the door to your shared bedroom open. [y/n/n] waddled in without him noticing, she started playing with all of his devices. his computer, his microphone, and somehow she got a hold of his headphones, and took out the battery. george didn’t realise until he noticed the cover missing. he tried to ask her nicely where she threw the battery. but she insisted that she wasn’t going to give it back unless he stopped being ‘mean’

when lunch time rolled around, george put a pizza in the oven, he remembered clearly that [y/n/n] loved pizza, specifically pepperoni. nothing could go wrong here.

but when he called her to the kitchen so she could receive her lunch. she just stared blankly at the pizza, and then at him. she crossed her arms

“[y/n] usually makes a smiley face with the pepperoni”

george just felt all his will to live just disappear

coloured pens and toys were spread out all across the living room floor, [y/n/n] was sitting in front of the tv, george put on one of her favourite shows which thankfully distracted her for a bit, allowing him to relax. he pulled out his phone and texted you

to [y/n] <3 : help me please

to [y/n] <3: i cant take this anymore, i’m literally dying rn

to [y/n] <3: come home quick

he exhaled heavily, throwing his phone to the side. he was so exhausted.

[y/n/n] was roleplaying with her toys, making them move around and doing squeaky little voices. george smiled at the innocence

“purple bear doesn’t play with us anymore. princess giraffe, mr. george took her away from us,” she spoke in a high pitched voice

george’s ears perked up. how funny that she had a teddy named ‘mr. george’. curiously, he watched the little girl.

“koala george, is a meanie, he stole purple bear and now they don’t want to hang out with us!”

it didn’t take a genius to find out what [y/n/n] was displaying through her role playing teddies.

that was why she didn’t like george. before they got together, [y/n] mentioned they almost spent every weekend with [y/n/n], playing with her and having fun with her.

she felt abandoned by [y/n] and felt as if george had taken them away from her .

george felt at fault as he noticed the girls eyes started to water.

“does purple bear love us any more?” she continued to play.

george decided it was enough and he switched off the television. he joined [y/n/n] on the floor and grabbed the teddy that was supposedly ‘koala george’

“[y/n/n]” he spoke softly. the little girl looked up at him expectantly. he held up the teddy.

“is this supposed to be me?” he questioned her.

“that’s a koala bear,” she answered

“no-, [y/n/n],” he said. he thought about how to ask her, and just chose it was best to be flat out with the child,”

“did i steal auntie/uncle [y/n] away from you?”

the question took her by surprise. she gazed at him with big wide eyes. she thought about her answer and grabbed the purple bear, which was supposed to be you.

“they don’t play with me as much anymore, they’re always with you, because of you, they don’t love me anymore,” she pulled a face, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t annoyed.

it was a genuinely sad face.

george was sure he physically felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. he never even comprehended the fact that a child could feel so rejected.

“listen... [y/n/n],” he said gently. he thought about his words. comforting someone wasn’t exactly his strongest point, particularly not a child who detested him “[y/n] will never stop loving you, okay? they love you very much, and i’m sorry you feel like i stole them ”

[y/n/n] continued to listen.

“but don’t forget that [y/n] has so much love to go around! look, they love you, and they love me, they love grandma and grandpa too! they will always love one another even if they can’t see each other often,”

[y/n/n] stayed silent. she fiddled with the purple teddy, folding its ears and patting its head. she loved that bear. it was actually gifted to her by you, when she was first born. she brought it to her chest and hugged it. george tried a different approach.

“listen, how about- this weekend, we can all go to the park together, and have a picnic. you, me, [y/n], and your parents too,”

she continued to just stay silent. george didn’t know what to expect, she was unpredictable, was she going to throw another hissy fit? or start to cry? he wasn’t sure

“can we also get ice cream?” she asked

george smiled and felt himself relax. thank god. “all the ice cream you want,” he told her

[y/n/n] stood up and giggled. like her whole entire mood did a whole fucking 180. “okay! let’s go play dress up now!”

———

7:45 pm. you finally arrived home. you were tired out of your mind. [y/s/n]’s interview was delayed by two hours and was currently half way back home, meaning you had enough time to spend with [y/n/n]

you unlocked the door, expecting to see a giant tsunami of toys and colouring pencils and pens, but what you saw was the most heart warming thing ever.

george was sleeping on the couch, his head resting on the armrest. he had a couple pink bows in his hair, his lips were painted a hot pink, he was wearing a couple sparky bracelets and a purple floral necklace.

in his lap, [y/n/n] rested her head, she was wearing a fairy costume with matching pink bows and sparkly bracelets.

you quickly snapped a photo of this wholesome moment. because, who wouldn’t? you spent a few minutes just watching the two sleep, they were probably just as tired as you.

moments like these made you really appreciate the people you had in your life. the people you love so dearly much.

you didn’t want to disrupt the ambience but you felt it was better for your [sibling] to collect your niece when she wasn’t covered in glitter and an overload of pink accessories.

you quietly woke george up,

“baby, wake up.” you shook him awake, gently. in a very different way than you did this morning. he opened his eyes. and immediately smiled upon seeing your face. you ran your thumb across his cheek

“it looks like you two had a lot of fun,” you teased.

he quietly chuckled. “she’s okay,” he told you. looking down at the little girl sleeping in his lap.

you slowly and carefully picked her up, removing any accessories you thought may seem uncomfortable to sleep in. she was a heavy sleeper.

you carried her upstairs, tucking her into you and george’s bed and placing a kiss upon her forehead. you turned back to george and rushed in for a bear hug

“thank you so much for doing that,” you said. “i love you so much, i know it probably wasn’t easy, she can be quite the handful,”

george chuckled. “handful is an understatement,”

“you’d better be willing to dress up like that with our own kids one day.” you stated, hugging him tighter.

his face broke out into a small smile, having thought of an image of you two playing with you future kids. he kissed top of your head and then your nose

“maybe one day”

———

masterlist

#georgenotfound imagines #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound #mcyt x reader #mcyt #georgenotfound imagine #mcyt imagines

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

Text

Tickle me, princey

Kanene’s note: This fic is basically: Virgil is a bratty Lee, Roman is a competitive Ler and none of them are going down without a fight xDD.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Virgil and Ler!Roman (Kind of. Because there is almost no tickles here, just teasing). Human AU.

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* This have about 2.500 words of Roman and Virgil just being teasy beans. ‘w’)b.

* PLEASE CHECK THIS AMAZING ART! IT’S INCREDIBLEE! <33

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda. Eu espero! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Do something crazy today, take a good rest, be kind (especially with yourself) and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Roman cleaned his hands on his jeans before stretching his back and sighing in relief when a small ‘pop’ came from it. The pal from the nearby library was a cool person – not that he would ever allow the other to hear this, because, damn, people who called Roman cocky definitely haven’t met them yet – but equally precise in get on his nerves with as few words as possible, even though the florist didn’t care that much as his dramatics discourses tried to convince everyone he did.

Besides that, they was Patton’s friend and even more important, they made an accord with the Flower Shop’s owner and Roman was the one in charge to deliver their biweekly floral arrangement to the library’s decór. However, today Roman managed to win their discussion and therefore a couple of podcast episodes read by them (What? Their voice was quite nice!!).

Roman ignored the small ring of the door’s bell as he entered the Flower Shop, looking around to be sure there was no clients before taking his position behind the balcony, internally thanking how chill Patton was with his employees using phone during the shift as long there wasn’t no one near, especially as he unlocked his screen and a new notification popped in front of him.

Butterflies went immediately crazy on his stomach.

[Message from Panic! At Everywhere]

[P: Hey. So, are you still ok?]

Virgil kicked his blanket out of his bed, already feeling a tad of giddiness spread across his body, a small smirk finding its way to his face without him even realizing. Today was the day. Since when he and Roman talked on the last week about boundaries to be sure nothing had changed and decided Saturday as a good day for their session the one with purple hair couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander, picturing and re-picturing what would happen, even though Roman always insisted to never tell him his plans, wanting to keep everything as a surprise, which definitely didn’t help at all the excitement running on his veins.

Their session.

Their tickle session. It was only eleven in the morning and Virgil could already feel his skin tingle just by imagine Roman’s fingers grazing, dancing on it, carefully looking for all his weak spots both knew so well before coming with an entire new technique that would make the other (almost, barely, hardly) want to jump out of his skin so he could escape from the maddening tickly sensation.

He was going to love it.

Also, it didn’t help that he spent the previous night and its following morning consuming all his favorite tickle content, dying on the spot (and on the reblogs) and skyrocketing his lee mood to the mountains.

Nevertheless, he tried to play nonchalant as answered the other’s new message.

[Message from Dumb(o)]

[D: Yes.]

[P: Cool.]

[D: You?]

[P: Yep.]

[D: Glad to know, Blushy Bug. Try to not alarm all of our neighborhood with your squeals and giggles before I get there, okay? ~

D: And yeah, plu-e-ase, continue with your so delightful tags on your reblogs, okay, Tickle me Emo? I’m learning so much new information with that. If only I would have an opportunity to use all of them today…]

Virgil snorted, one hand trying to hide his face as he attempted with all his might to ignore the flames taking over his cheeks as the teases sank and the memories from the day he conquered this nickname emerged from the deeps of his mind. So, Princey was already so over his head with being the ler this time? Thinking Virgil would be hiding his face on the pillow, squeaking and tittering helpless? Well, he would have a big storm coming, then.

Virgil got up, his footsteps leading him to the clean desk in the room, moving some of the objects so carefully chosen in order to get the perfect picture. Every single makeup brush lined, gleaming under the lens of his camera, away enough so the viewer would be able to realize all their individualities but close enough to create an impact.

Two can play this game.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent an image]

Roman clicked on it, eyes going immediately wide as he quickly slammed the cellphone’s screen on his red apron, his gaze running from a place to another to be sure no one was near or had seen the conversation or noticed the way his smile went from an ear to another.

[P: Nah. I’m too occupied choosing the perfect tools for today… I mean, there are just so many options, ya know? I especially prefer the smallest ones, their bristles softly running on my ribs, tracing their way across my tummy to get to the other side… yeah. That is the good stuff. Or maybe we could be experimenting the biggest ones today, letting them tease that spot right under my chin, the softness engulfing all the nerves… ]

Roman took a deep breath, realizing the other still typing.

[P: Anyway, don’t make a big deal of this, ‘kay? I know your imagination can be very fertile but try to not alert Patton with all your blush and twitching. You know he is a curious guy and will want to know why you’re so smiley. ;)]

“Pai amado, (Dear God) he is going to kill me.” Roman crossed his arms, using all his will to no start wiggling them to nothing, a sudden urge to sing some nursery rhymes making him begin to humming quietly as attempted to gather enough concentration to type a proper, cool reply.

[D: Is that so? So, the big, badass Virgil Storm is excited to get all his tickly-tickle-tickles today? Is he excited to become a so helpless, so adorable mess of giggles and squeaks? To be teased and tickled until he can do nothing but give me those lovely snorts and wiggly-wiggles? ~

Awww. So cute. ~]

[P: Yeah, I am. So what? Wanna do something about that, Sir Sing a Lot?

Ops, I forgot you’re at work rn. Tsc. Such a pity. Well, guess I will have to kill some time by looking at your precious collection of feathers, see if I find something interesting there.]

[D: You just wait for when I get home.]

[P: :)]

Virgil laid his phone at his side, hiding his face on the mattress, kicking just like he was some teenager in love from those generic movies. The squeals bubbled out from his lips, smiles blooming. He knew he probably was just digging his own grave, but, ha, as if he would fall without a fight. Plus, imagining Roman trying at every cost to keep a straight expression while reading his texts and then struggling to continue his work just as if nothing had happened, with that cute, excited smile planted on his face made a proud wave of power – and joy - hit him and that was a bonus which was worth it.

Then his phone vibrated, indicating a new notification and a new flood of shivers as he unlocked his screen, freezing for a couple of heartbeats with the length of the message.

[D: A poem for my dear Knightmare. ~

Once upon a time

There was a wiggley-wiggly lee

That just a few pokes

Made him giggle with glee

Some scribbles here

Some scratches there

You can tickle-tickle

He is ticklish everywhere!

What, you don’t believe me?

‘That much cute he can’t be!’

Well, then allow me to demonstrate

All the beautiful sounds he can create!

Give a few prodding on his ribs

And a quick digging on his hips

Some brushes on his toesies and feet

And don’t forget about these helpless pits!

(And hey, psst, if you squeeze his sides

The cutie, squeaky, wiggly lee,

Will be squealing in a happy delight)

This neck is also asking for tickly-kisses

He always denies, always desire

Add to that some teasy whispers

And watch his cheeks be set on fire!

Once upon a time

There was a bratty, smug lee

That just a few tickle teases

Can make him a blushy mess

Just like now, you see!]

[…]

“Have a nice day. Thank you for coming!”

Roman waved to the client who got out from the Flower Shop, taming the smugness which threatened to take over his features as he realized that even though an hour had passed, no answer to his last text had arrived yet. He was perfectly aware of how weak Virgil was for any sort of rhymed tease and a whole poem – not his best, he had to admit – dedicated to him? He could almost see the other shrieking, hiding his red face on the pillow, lost in a mess of quiet peals of laughter and curses. His smile got even bigger, swelled in pride. And, well, if he couldn’t help it but push his luck a few inches further, his fingers already halfway to typing a small, itsy bitsy, new tease to his favorite emo lee, how could someone really blame him?

[D: Oh, sorry. Did I make the scary Virgil too much flustered to talk? Awww, I will miss your sassy remarks deeply and sing a ballad in your honor at the funeral. ~]

He snorted at the amount of time the symbol of ‘typing’ appeared and disappeared on the conversation, using the ten minutes he took to be answered to organize a few sales signs on the glass in front of the store, gaining a dance on his step as the one-worded sentence shone on his phone.

[P: Bitch.]

[D: I have no idea of what you’re talking about. Is that something I said? I feel wounded.]

But a new thing popped up.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a video]

[P: :)]

It seemed like hours passed, even if he knew the downloading probably didn’t really take more than a few pieces of minute for him to hit the play.

The focus of the camera took a few seconds to adjust, the image trembling and shaking before going still, the crystal clear form of a small light brown, slightly spiked feather twirling between Virgil’s index and thumb locking his eyes on the screen. A quick, quiet sigh could be heard before the tickle tool descended to the palm extended on a desk, stopping by Virgil’s pulse.

The bristles grazed the skin there as the feather began to move on slow strokes, going from the left to the right, left and right, left and right… calmly making its way up, changing to small swirls as it contorted the form of the hand, giving to each finger a light tracing before concentrating on the palm, drawing a spiral which approximated inch by inch to the center. If Roman wasn’t so quiet, - even holding his breath, - maybe he wouldn’t be able to listen the incredibly low, contained huffs of laughter on the background, a soft snort escaping and making both hands tremble as the bristles hit the center of his hand, dancing around the spot for a bit.

When it stopped, the tool was placed on the desk and then the camera started to move, stopping on Roman’s so very well-known golden with silver details box. Its lid laid next to it, letting its entire content to be proudly shown. The explosion of colors from the most diverse large, small, pointy, fluffy feathers took over the frame, however, a tiny piece of paper placed on the exact center of them was what captured his attention. The lens zoomed and focused, making him able to read the quick message written there.

“:)”

And then the screen went black. The video was over.

Roman could feel his face being almost split in half by his grin, his fingers hitting the table top in complete frenzy since they hadn’t to hold the device anymore, curling and uncurling as the one who couldn’t just stay still started to bounce his right leg, ignoring the redness he felt crippling down his neck.

“Roman?”

He fully shrieked. Both him and Patton startled and jumped a few centimeters in the air with the sudden sound. The florist slapping his own hand on his mouth, trying with all his inner strength to stop the bubbly giggles which flooded non stop from his lips

“Sorry for the scare, kiddo,” the shine on his eyes free of any guilt as Patton bit his own knuckles proved the contrary, especially when the rest of an awed squeal escaped from his lips, only making the other to giggle harder, eyes closed, blush deepening and nose scrunched. “Aww, your giggles are so cute!”

“Shuhuhush!!” The Flower Shop owner just smiled fondly, withholding his comments and patiently waiting for the other to recompose himself. When Roman looked at least a tad calmer he decided to make his decision to talk to him clear.

“I’m glad you’re in a good mood, Ro! I just wanted to remember today’s shift is already over. I need a bit of time to organize everything before the painter comes so we can discuss the new design of the Flower Shop. Thank you so much for the ideas, by the way! I can’t wait for you all to see the result! It will be so pretty!!” Roman’s wide eyes were enough of an explanation of why he wasn’t ready to go yet, probably having forgotten about their last month conversation. Although, the surprised look was away in an instant, a shine taking over his glare before he softened, locking his eyes with Patton.

“Of course, it will be, Patty-cake! With my magnificent ideas and your good taste, I really don’t think any other result besides wonderful and perfection will be possible!” He squeezed Patton’s cheeks and his friend stuck out his tongue at him, winning a quick poke on his ribs that made him squirms and yelp, quickly tittering and waving the other with his hands.

“Now shoo-shoo, go enjoy your afternoon!”

A devious smirk gleamed on Roman’s expression for a second. “You can count on it, Padre.” But then it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Thank you, my mighty hero in a shiny armor! May the universe let our destiny align again in the future.”

“See ya, kiddo!” He replied, his tune also full of joy, watching the one with red hair going away, a happy bounce on his steps.

[…]

Virgil picked the phone in the first ring. “Roman, something happened?”

“Nope,” the purple lover sighed in relief, all the tension getting out of his body and being replaced by confusion, “nothing happened except that a handsome, incredible someone got out from his work earlier than expected and might be heading his home by now.”

That made Virgil shot up, biting his lower lip, butterflies freaking out. “No.” It was his whisper.

“Oh, yes. ~” Roman practically purred on the speaker. “any last words, my dear, defenseless Giggly Storm?”

Virgil just giggled and Roman had almost forgotten how that sound only was enough to spread an explosion of a warm, good feeling on his chest. “Aw, and here I was thinking I would have at least some challenge today. ~” He continued to tease.

Silence.

“Go check your messages, Princeypie.”

And then he hung up. Roman fondly rolled his eyes, running to check the new notification on their conversation.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a photo]

It was Virgil, sitting on his bed criss crossed, one elbow resting on his thigh as he took the picture on the body mirror on the other side of the room, a strong blush very visible on his face half hidden by the device, wearing a short and Roman’s red crop top. A new message popped right under the photo.

[P: Get your butt here and tickle me, Sir Sing a Lot.’]

This emo was going to be the death of him.

[D: Aww, I don’t even get a smile?]

[P: You gotta work for those, Princey.]

Virgil definitely did not jump nor yelp as he heard the low, dangerous tune of an “evil” laughter echoes in the house coming from the living room, the sound of the front door being closed making his flight instincts kick in.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Virgil was already halfway to the most far away room where he could escape, trying to keep his reputation as he heard another set of footsteps quickly getting ground and following right behind him. Laughter and squeaks mixed in the air.

“Because I will.” Roman answered.

#Very teasy #Teases #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Roman #Virgil is a brat and Roman is one as well #Ticklish!Virgil #Sanders Sides tickles #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #Kanene's fic #Brief self tickles #Feathers #blushy bois #Writing this kind of fic is very fun and sdfghertcvgbhn kind of silly as well #Virgil: Tickle me// Roman: Okay// Virgil: *NYOOOM*#I still don't know how to tag this dfghjsdfghdcf #I feel like my writing is a bit weird nowdays but yeah I'm still proud of this!

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jupiter-river · 3 years

Text

Period pains ~ Yachi x Reader

Possible tw: Periods for a gn reader. The personal headcanon that Yachi could beat anyone up in smash bros with no remorse, the briefly mentioned personal headcanon that she takes a Visual arts class. Mention of Tylenol, rude guardian briefly mentioned.

I didn't mention a specific gender, just that they can have periods, so it's still technically a gn reader, maybe, idk?

completely self-indulgent as I am In pain rn ;-;

Word count: 1,793

Sitting in bed surrounded by blankets and pillows was not what you had in mind for your Saturday, no no no, you had plans today, you were going on a date in the park with your girlfriend Yachi since it was going to be a nice day today, but sadly, your cycle had decided to ruin your plans. The cramps were worse than normal and you were so tired since it had kept you up all night and your guardian had gotten mad at you yesterday night and this morning, but of course, they said they would bring home food and assumed that would make it better. All that did was give you an even worse migraine. You had just texted Yachi that you would have to take a rain check and briefly explained why.

She was quick to text back with her sympathies and offered to come over with some homemade soup so you could relax and spend time together anyway, and she could help with the cramps. You thought about rejecting her offer as you didn’t want to trouble her, but you did miss her and you wanted to go on a date. You replied to her that that sounded nice, but she didn’t have to do anything for you, just come over to hang out for a while. Yachi replied in seconds with ‘Okay! ^-^’ and so you went to get up, wincing at the pain, and unlocked the front door for her. While you were up you decided to make your comfort drink and maybe some Tylenol, you didn’t necessarily have the energy to go get it, but you were already here, so why not? You sat on the couch in the living room and sipped your drink slowly after taking a couple of the pills, excited that your shark week hadn’t ruined your plans completely, although it was still a pain, and as if to prove its point you got another really bad cramp, just to remind you it’s still there in case you had forgotten. You clutched your side and winced, grateful that you had already drunk enough of your drink so it didn’t spill at the movements. About 30 minutes later you heard the door starting to open and you hear Yachi call out from behind it, “Hey (reader) I’m here!” you responded with some sort of noise, not able to form actual words at the moment, your cup abandoned at the coffee table, as you got up to greet her. She smiled sheepishly as she saw you look at the bag she had brought in, there were Heating pads, your favorite sweets, what looked to be Yachis’ blanket from her house that you often said was super comfy, a couple of stuffed animals, and Yachis’ laptop. You had also noticed that she had brought in a whole pot of soup and she had already placed it on the stove. “Ehehe, I know you said not to worry about bringing anything, but I thought it would be nice. These always help me during my time of the week, so I thought it would help you! The soups just got to heat up though.” She turned the stove on so the soup would heat up, and set a timer on her phone for when it should be done, and then walked back to you who was still standing on the other side of the island in the kitchen. You didn’t say anything and just hugged her, leaning on her a bit. You did say not to bring anything, but you would be lying if you said that it didn’t make you feel very happy. She laughed a bit and hugged you lightly, not wanted to squeeze too hard and make the cramps act up again. She grabbed your hand in hers, “Come on, let’s sit on the couch and watch some tv or something while we wait for the soup!” she grabbed the blanket from the bag and lead you back to the couch, you grabbed the remote for her while she grabbed some pillows and arranged them around you both, she then preceded to curl up beside you with the blanket surrounding you both. She held your hand and kissed your cheek sweetly before placing her head on your shoulder while you picked your favorite cartoon show to watch for a bit.

Eventually, the timer she had set on her phone rang, so you both got up from the comfortable position and turned off the tv. She wrapped the blanket around you, allowing you to be wrapped in it while you moved around, while she went to the kitchen. She stirred the soup a bit and made two bowls. She placed them on the table, one in front of where you were sitting and one where she would sit, turned off the stove, placed a lid on the pot, and put the pot into the fridge, “alright all done!” she cheered, and went to sit down in front of her bowl. “This is my mom’s homemade recipe, she used to make it all the time for me when she had enough free time. I learned how to make it since I liked it so much, and she couldn’t make it all the time.” she commented, in-between spoon fulls of soup. After your throat had gotten a bit better with some food you said, “It’s good.” a little quietly but loud enough that Yachi had no trouble hearing you. She practically lit up, “Really?! I’m glad you like it. I can always make some more for you if you’d like. I like making it anyways” You just smiled at her. With the size of the pot she brought, you think you could feed a family of eight for four days with it. After you were done, she cleaned the bowls and put them in the dishwasher, “Alright,” she smiled “Let’s relax for today, have that date we wanted, and just enjoy each other” She once again grabbed a hold of your hand also while grabbing the bag of stuffed animals and well as her laptop while you two walked to your room. The both of you got comfortable in the fluffy nest of pillows and blankets, Yachi adding the stuffed animals into the mix and starting her laptop, while it was loading she got out the heating pad and handed it to you to put where you saw fit. After she settled the laptop in between you two and pressed play on your favorite show, she started to mindlessly play with your hand, not that she realized. You smiled at her softly as her attention was on the show. The calming atmosphere, just you and Yachi, made today not so bad, even with the occasional cramps, Yachi was right there, every time you let out a little wince she would gently massage your sides(?) and adjust the heating pack if it had slipped off the area. Slowly during the show watching, you both started paying less attention to the show and more to each other. Yachi would talk about her day, her assignments in art class, or what shenanigans the Volleyball team had been up to, you would usually reply with only two or so word responses but she didn’t mind, it was easy for her to tell what you meant, and the time quickly went by. It was around six o’clock by now, and you had felt much better so you both decided to move back into the more open space of the living room, as that was where your game console was, with the blanket and heating pack. You got the controllers set up and Yachi suggested super smash bros. And who were you to disagree, to see the happy look on Yachis’s face was enough of a reason to play if you didn’t like smash bros. After starting it up and picking your characters, with Yachi maining Kirby and you as your personal favorite who isn’t Kirby, Yachi started to let you have a chance but quickly started to absolutely destroy you without a sense of remorse. You knew this would happen, you still tried your best but she was too good. She started to shout out when she landed a hit and things like that, but you didn’t mind it too much, you found it amusing in a way. The win was quickly hers as you had no chance but it was fun non the less. After a few more rounds of the game, Yachi decided it was getting late, “Do you wanna stay the night?” you managed to ask, Yachi practically jumped up in joy “Yes! I would love to, is it okay with your guardian though?” You thought about it and decided to text them, instead of asking if Yachi can stay over, you decided to just tell them that she was staying here. Not waiting for a response you shut off your phone, and nodded, “They said it was okay” and she smiled, “Okay then! I’ll let my mom know I won’t be home

tonight” even though you both knew by the time she got home, it was probably going to be so late that Yachi would be in bed. Afterward, you found some clothes that she could wear tonight and tomorrow. Even when your guardian came home, they knew they couldn’t just kick Yachi out, so they let her stay over, and mostly left the two of you alone after saying hi. You guys were sitting outside cuddling on the swing looking at the night sky together, both of you silent and just drinking out of your mugs, yeah maybe this isn’t what you imagined your date to be, but it was still as wonderful as you thought it was going to be. Yachi moved a bit to face you, pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, she saw your questioning glance and just smiled and shrugged, “I just felt like it” she did it once more, a bit slower this time, before settling back into your side with her gaze to the stars. ”They sure are pretty” She said as her actions were catching up to her trying to change the subject and calm her beating heart down. Even in the semi-dark lighting you can see the loud blush donning her cheeks, you kissed her forehead before looking up at the stars as well, they were beautiful, weren’t they.

#yachi #yachi fluff #period cramps #period pain #yachi x reader #x reader #i swear i ended up acting as if this was a sick fic #written by an enby dealing with their period #i am in pain lmao #yachi hitoka #yachi hitoka x reader #do I genuinely believe Yachi would be crazy good at smash bros? yes #do i believe she would be enrolled in visual arts? also yes #x reader fluff #squishmallow

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whirlybirdwhat · 3 years

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Heyo~ I just wanted to say that your fanfics have inspired me to write my owns, they're so good!!

But my writing isn't nearly as good, do you have any advices for this starting writer? <3

oh my gosh anon !!!!!! im ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ !! im so glad they inspire you, and I wish you all the best on your writing!!! you got this, and please link them if/when you post!!!! 👀👀👀

as for advice - i got a few things!

first off, your writing is yours, and - especially in fic - there isn't necessarily a type of 'good' writing, just different skill sets! for instance, i find that my weak point is dialogue, while im great at worldbuilding + emotions. another writer might be the opposite, but it doesn't mean my writing is 'bad' and theirs is 'good' or the reverse, simply that we have different strengths! as you grow as a writer, you will find your strengths and learn to grow them, and your weak points! there is truly no standard, so don't put yourself down!!

moving on to more advice however - (EDIT: theres a tldr at the bottom because sorry, i rambled a bit!!)

1. write. it doesn't matter where, it doesn't matter when, it doesn't matter how! I have written fics on sticky notes in the middle of class (whiskey peak chapter of esom) on discord in the span of a few hours (make a choice (turncoat hero)) and in my notes apps (the ace/yamato fic i posted)!! if you learn to write anywhere you please, this will keep ideas from leaving your mind, and allow you to get into the zone that there doesn't have to be a set time to write!

2. length never matters for a fic. If 100 words is all it takes to write what you want to write, then 100 words is all it takes! don't let the general adoration for long fics to scare you off from writing, and write what you're comfortable with. I know writers who only write chapter fics, and writers who will only write one shots (then there's me, who tries to do both at once lol.)

3. when i am lost with the plot of a fic, the first thing i do is draft an outline of what i want to happen next. this is just a simple bullet point outline, in the general fashion of, say

- luffy gets a different hat post pirate king

- monkey steals hat

- luffy calls for zoro

- zoro sleeping?? sanji kicks him then fight

- the monkey is revealed as the red haired pirates monkey

- shanks shows up "miss me anchor?" party time

brief, follows a simple set of actions, perhaps one or two lines that i thought of while writing, and gives me a skeleton to follow so that when i lose myself in a fic i know where i can go next. Some people find it useful to do this at the beginning with a super detailed plot, and others never write a outline at all! it depends again on how you grow as a writer, so don't be afraid to try different things out when you approach a fic

4. stuck on a part? writer block? can't focus? get up drink a glass of water, and get back to writing! i find this helps me get refocused on writing when i am stuck, a little body 'wake up' as you will.

5. never EVER delete a scene from a fic. never. NEVER. move that scene to another doc, put it in a 'scrapped writing' folder, idc, but never delete it entirely. it helps you grow as a writer, and you can always put the scene back/reword it, etc. i cannot count on my hands how many times i have reworked a previously scrapped portion of a fic and came out the better for it!

6. having multiple wips is okay!! celebrate it even!! i always have at least five docs for five separate fics up on my computer at all times so i can shuffle between them when writing and write what im inspire for in that moment. its okay if you never make headway on one of them, as long as the ideas keep flowing

7. want to get something out quick? word wars are your friend - set a timer for 15 minutes, and write as many words as you can. this is especially fun if you have someone doing it with you, so you can compare counts at the end and share your story!!

8. writing, like all art, takes time. and, generally, there is a chance you will write faster when you first set out to write then you will later, because later, you will be more conscious of your word choices and be more deliberate and careful in your plot, rather than just churning out works. It's okay if you don't churn out 5k a day - writing is not an obligation!

9. have. fun. im serious! write what you want to write, even if it seems no one will love it or like it or want to read it - write what brings you joy, what makes you smile, even if it's something that's been done a thousand times before!! this is what fic is, for your own personal enjoyment. Additionally, do not be discouraged if there's a low amount of reviews for something you put your heart and soul. it sucks ass, yes, (i have a couple fics i love which have only gotten like, a quarter of attention of some of my other fics) but ultimately, the idea you wrote down is one you want to see in the world!! it doesn't quite matter what anyone else likes.

10. grammarly, word counter, word, etc - anything with a spellcheck is your best friend, and will generally catch things you miss if you cant find someone to proofread for you. additionally, if you want to be more critical of your fic, look for friends tto give constructive critcism, but know that you absolutely do not have to accept it from any stranger online unless you asked specifically for it.

11. fanon is fanon and popular headcanons are popular headcanons and both are absolutely not canon. you do NOT have to follow it if you do not want to.

12. read!!! i read a lot of fic, a lot of published books, and each has something i really enjoy and apply to my own fics.

13. to reiterate again just... write. write and write and write. i have over 300k posted to ao3 rn, and more in my docs. you will not improve your writing to any standard that you set for yourself unless you write!! always practice!! learn from your mistakes!! grow!!! you will improve with time, i promise, just go out and write what makes you happy anon!!

tl;dr have fun, write a lot wherever and whenever, and write for yourself before anyone else. you will improve with time as a writer the more you practice, and it doesn't ever matter how long your work is.

if you want more specific advice on formatting fic/general rules/ your first time posting, feel free to send another ask!! but for now, i wish you the best of luck anon and a very 👀👀👀👀 at your future fics!!!

#that was #so much rambling i am sorry but i do hope its helpful!!#whirlywhat #whirlyanswers #advice #writing #fic writing advice #fic advice

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bettsfic · 3 years

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march pinned: ending the sex project

in the march edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and upcoming consultation availability, i have personal essay recommendations and a segment on the definition of a project!

for more information on my creative coaching services, check out my carrd.

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

fuck february, amiright?

i thought january was bad. but february. february was the stuff of nightmares. my cousin passed away from covid (you can read about her here; she was really an amazing person and i feel so lucky to have known her). i was finally formally diagnosed with PCOS (bittersweet, i guess). my car broke down. i took two (2) days off and it took me two and a half weeks to get caught up again. i can only hope march treats us all a little more gently.

the good news is, i finished revisions on my short story collection to send to my agent, finished workshop submissions for the semester, and now i can return to my first love, fanfiction. that i am constantly working through original fiction to return to fanfiction has been making me think a lot about the nature of a creative, capital-p Project. so, this month’s BTALA (been thinkin a lot about) is going to inspect the concept of a “project.”

new resource

last month i unveiled a folder of my favorite short stories which i’m pleased to hear several of you have perused and gotten some inspiration from. this month i’ve compiled my favorite personal essays. there are fewer essays than there are short stories because i’ve broken them into two groups: personal and craft. next month i hope to have the craft essays compiled.

i’m always looking for more things to love, so if you have recommendations for your favorite short stories and essays, i’d be happy to hear them!

writing-related posts

how to physically maneuver the revision process

the difference between M and E ratings of fic

resources for worldbuilding (check out the reblogs for more!)

a couple syntax/prose book recs

how to break a long work into chapters

march availability

unfortunately i have to cut my coaching hours down a bit, so i don’t have any openings left in march, but i have some availability in april. if you’re interested in a writing consultation, please fill out this google form!

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

what i’m into rn

for the past year, i’ve basically been trapped in a 10x10 room, and my health is definitely reflecting that, both mentally (does anyone else feel like they’re living in groundhog day? just, every day being exactly the same except fractionally worse than the day before??) and physically (i reorganized the kitchen and could barely move for two days).

reader, i have discovered something called “walking,” in which i put on real human shoes and go outside. it feels strange, bestial. neighbors wave hello to me. a harrowing experience.

while doing this, this walking, i’ve been listening to the lolita podcast which a friend recommended to me, a ten-episode series that dives into everything lolita: the novel itself, its context, adaptations, greater cultural responses, and — as a sticker on my laptop says — vladimir “russian dreamboat” nabokov. as far as i can tell it seems well-researched and presents the many perspectives of lolita in a fair way. i’m only a few eps in, but i’m entranced so far. highly recommended if you, like me, have a complicated relationship with lolita.

i’ve also found myself mildly addicted to a mobile otome game called obey me, which. look i know it’s like the definition of cringe but it’s also mind-numbingly fun and if i want to spend my minimal free time pretending 7 demon brothers are all vying for my affection then that’s between me and god. it’s a lot of what i loved about WoW: frequent events, bright colors, a daily to do list of simple but satisfying tasks, many many rewards, and it doesn’t take itself very seriously. and if i have 4k fic written of mammon/reader that’s nobody’s business but mine and my longsuffering ao3 subscribers.

i’m telling you this because i don’t know anyone else who plays it and am desperate to trade headcanons. so if you play, or start playing, hit me up!! i will give u mad tips and daily AP.

been thinkin a lot about

the project. the project. even the word “project.” PROject (noun). proJECT (verb). what is the project? “project” comes from the latin pro and jacare which means “to throw forward,” or projectum which means “something prominent.” a projector throws forward an image. to project onto something means to throw your perspective onto something else. to embark on a project is to make something prominent in your life. the concept of “the projects” comes from public housing projects, the government throwing forward affordable housing.

what is the project? in joseph harris’ essay “coming to terms” he says that “to define the project of a writer is…to push beyond his text, to hazard a view about not only what someone has said but also what he was trying to accomplish by saying it.” harris’ perspective is that of an english teacher encouraging his students to read critically, not just to summarize a text but to find its project, its greater purpose. and while i first read this essay in a seminar on composition pedagogy, it stuck with me as a writer. it made me reconsider the greater nature of the creative project.

how many of us, if asked to describe our writing project, would begin with a plot or character premise, the nuts and bolts of a specific story? maybe even the working title? but i wonder, is breaking out the plot really the project? is the discipline of sitting down and typing really the project? and when the story is finished, is the project over? what is the project?

in 2019, i wrote 86k words of a novel. i began revising that novel last fall, and i’m finding that i’ll probably keep maybe less than 10k of that initial draft. i’m not bothered by that. the novel i wrote before that started at 125k, then i rewrote the entire thing to 200k, then i whittled it back down to 160k, and next i’ll be tasked with paring it back down to 80k. i’m not bothered by that either. in the past five years or so i’ve written about 2 million words, and i’ve only published 20k of them. only 1% of what i’ve written, i’ve published. in the words of lauren cooper (catherine tate), i’m not bothered.

i used to see publication as the birth of the project, and writing it akin to a long gestation period. then i saw publication as the death of the project, and its life was lived in its drafting. now, publication seems irrelevant to the project. the confines of a story and its many revisions are also irrelevant to the project. the beginning of a story is not the start of the project and the end of the story is not the end of the project. the project is larger than the story, its revisions, its publication, and its eventual readership.

i think it took me so long to see this because for so many years i was still in my first project, the sex project, an exploration of trauma and sexual identity, which began in 2014 with destiel fanfiction, endured through many fandom shifts, my MFA, years adrift as an adjunct, all the way through 2020 with the completion of my short story collection. i used to wonder how anyone could write about anything other than sex. to me it was the only topic worth my attention. i was certain that i would spend my entire life being a sex writer and i’d never find fulfillment writing a young adult sci fi adventure or a highly literary novel about complicated family dynamics. i was baffled by people who were interested in other things, who could write entire novels without using the word “cock” even once.

then my sex project ended. i don’t know when exactly it happened or why, but suddenly i realized i never wanted to write another artful description of an orgasm or find a tactful euphemism for a vagina ever again (personally i prefer “wet cunt” because not only is it blunt, i find it phonetically pleasing). obviously i’m still writing explicit fanfic but it doesn’t feel the same as it used to. sex feels more sidelined to me, even if it’s still the center and drive of a fic. i no longer get any personal satisfaction from writing it, although i do get satisfaction in sharing the work for readers to enjoy.

it’s like i’ve somehow solved the biggest puzzle of my life. or i guess made peace with my meanest monster, that extremely complicated double-mind of desire that some non-sex-repulsed asexuals feel: you want to feel desire you can’t actually feel so you write it into fiction, to try to understand this thing you can’t have and which society tells you you’re missing, and you don’t even know if you don’t have it, because you still feel desire for affection and intimacy, and maybe even a desire to be desired. and for those of us who are asexual and have c-ptsd, sex you don’t actually want (but don’t know you don’t want, because maybe you’re ambivalent and mildly curious and touch-starved) and an unrelenting drive toward people-pleasing can be a dangerous combination. how can you ever know what consent is if you always put other people’s desires above your own?

maybe i’m alone in this. maybe i’m not. maybe for most people, wanting sex is a light switch: yes i want it, or no i don’t. but for me, i had to write a whole lot of words to figure out things like desire, consent, intimacy, forgiveness, the shape that good love takes. the lengthy theoretical flowchart of “i might be interested in having sex if this and this and this and this and this happens in this exact order and under these exact circumstances.”

it was hard to write something into reality that i have never seen except in pieces, in subtext i clung to with no lexicon to give it shape and meaning. te lawrence in lawrence of arabia. some of tarantino’s early work. the film benny and joon. and weirdly, the star wars prequels (that one’s hard to explain; i’ll spare you). i don’t think the sex project was about coming to terms with my asexuality as much as it was trying to organize my thoughts and feelings by continuously rendering my own experiences within a greater, shinier ideal — like how you sometimes have to unravel the entire skein of yarn to find the loose end, and only then can you get started.

i guess i’m in the infancy of the power project now. i’m moving toward themes of control, infamy, greatness. the exact circumstances in which atrocity occurs. how people rise into leadership and fall from grace. the consequences of success. i don’t know why this project has come to me, or what, if anything, it has to do with me. i’m not famous and have no intention of becoming famous; i don’t have social power or influence, at least not beyond my little corner of fandom, and i’m not interested in having it. and yet, here we are, already hundreds of thousands of words in.

my fics digging for orchids (tgcf) and a standing engagement (the hunger games) deal with the detriments of fame. and even float (breaking bad) to a degree is about the aftermath of being so close to power. my novel cherry pop, loosely based on macbeth, is about an ongoing power exchange between two teenage girls. my other novel, vandal, is about a girl who believes she has magic powers and casts a spell on her neighbor to fall in love with her. and i’m in the very early stages of a novel called groundswell, a cult story i’ve been wanting to write for years. i had no idea why i couldn’t write it until i realized it wasn’t yet my project. i’m not even to the stage of developing characters, let alone a premise or plot. i’m still just building my aesthetic pile (i discuss the aesthetic pile here, as well as vandal in more detail), watching documentaries on cults, reading books, finding inspiration, marking down ideas as they come. it may be years before i’m ready to sit down and write it.

now that i know what the project is, i have more patience with myself. it doesn’t bother me to rewrite a novel from the beginning, or to scrap novels altogether, because the story isn’t the project. the project cannot be diminished by cutting words, sentences, paragraphs, entire chapters. the project does not have a product. the project cannot be published. the project is in the practice, in dragging the impossibly large into clear, acute existence, so you can see it. so you can see the very center of what you thought was an unknowable thing.

#pinned #lkwrnl

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latinozevran-archive · 3 years

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ok was too tired to write this up last night but my final kaiba review per usual i shall go from most to least ugly attributes first of all visuals no one can afford to trust an art style like that lol not the one for the main characters but vanilla etc dear god no thank yew the racism was very distracting and disturbing and made it hard to focus until he was out of the plot and if it wasnt just 12 eps i might've stopped for that. criticism hard stop and no excuses or explanations can be made for smth like this

2) structurally hmmmmhmmhm mixed feelings..so much if not most of the show seems designed to make u feel distanced from a sense of space and time so that it all blends together a bit and its kind of hard to go beyond the snippets of narrative youre given and this is the kind of sentence that makes sense to me rn but if i reread this tmo i would have no fucking clue what it meant so i will try to explain for instance i think its very hard to have strong feelings abt the timeline of events pre-story when they are all drawn like that like everyone involved here seems to be an adult according to the story right but like all i am saying is if everyone in kaiba looked like an actual normal adult design i think the once was a dictator but now is not so bad actually arc would be much easier to reject if that makes sense like u could feel a more clear connection to the passage of time and the fact that warp took his sweet time achieving the corruption his power brought him and so on and so forth WHICH IS ALSO JUST. LEFT SOOO UNCLEAR IM CRAZY. LIKE WHAT HAPPENED... ACQUIRED MOMMY ISSUES... -> APOCALYPSE..? THAT HE ENDED... BUT BECAME A LITTLE EVIL FOR IT -> MET NEIRO WE'RE ALL GOOD NOW. like maybe it was just the watching this at 3am off my medications that keep my brain from melting but i feel like it just made its own plot/backstory so hard to parse like purposefully and im just not totally sure why or i mean it makes the plot much more smooth so maybe i do know why but its frustrating

3) the thing this inevitably leads me to tho is like how much does this necessarily matter tho bc design choices in plot structure and visuals were all intentional its absolutely not supposed to feel particularly grounded in reality and it has a very unmistakable fairy tale quality to it that makes me inclined in some ways to forgive the things that frustrate me bc that was just the story they were trying to tell and it was still affecting in that form idk conflicts conflicts... bc also u know.. what zero was saying um the politics of whatever the fuck was going on with popo im just scratching my head anyone care to explain miss madhouse

4) but now we can get to nice words that shit did get to me so bad wtf chroniko .... chroniko.................. mannnn i did love so much of it a lot a lot wrt the basic plot w memories the art the symbolism the music the animation love and friendship and gender my god the amount of gender... going insane. 4 me the very clearcut prominent issues i did have with it complicate the idea of recommending it i don't rly know what i would say but i still thought the show was very beautiful and overall i did rly enjoy it and am glad to have seen it :)

#o #kaiba #DON'T FORGET U ARE MY KAIBA....HSHSGSSHNGSJJGSJGSHSJFHSFJJSHFHSJF #zero knows me well.

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mvrtaiswriting · 4 years

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heehee- kinda gay rn,,, can u,,, make a male!reader x Jonathan based off the song Beautiful by Thornly or Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol? Oh and if it could be in a modern universe that'd be nice aaa

Orange juice. - Jonathan Joestar.

Here I am, sorry for the laaate reply. Thank you for requesting something, I absolutely love my boy Jonathan and this was so cute to write!! Expect a lot of fluff, hope this meets your expectations. Enjoy!! x

Male reader (it’s more neutral tbf) x Jonathan Joestar

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Phantom Blood

AU / modern universe

SFW // minor hints to violence & injuries

words count: 2069

recommended song: chasing cars - snow patrol.

Hi! Are you a new reader? Check my masterlist for more content!

Please feel free to reblog or leave a comment :) help me support my art (it’s free!),

Being Jonathan Joestar’s neighbour was fun. Since the day you first met, the two of you became inseparable and it was hard to imagine a world where he wasn’t by your side. It was a peaceful afternoon when you first met him. He was taking his dog out for a walk, marching proudly on the sidewalk of the street you both lived in, holding the leash tightly to prevent his dog from running away. Jonathan wasn’t older than 6 at that time but he surely was a responsible little man, putting a lot of effort in completing his task.

Unluckily for him, however, a cat dared to cut his dog’s way. In matter of second, the poor boy completely lost control over his dog and its leash. The dog started to bark loudly before starting to chase the cat recklessly, causing Jonathan to trip over and skin his knees. You were playing outside, in the front garden of your house and you saw the entire scene. You quickly grabbed your orange juice and ran towards the injured little boy, whose cheeks were flushing red.

“Are you okay?” you asked in your little squeaking voice, kneeling beside him and patting your little hand on his shoulder. Jonathan simply nodded, too busy trying his best not to cry.

You sat next to him on the cold sidewalk floor and offered him your little orange juice.

“Mommy always gives one to me if I get hurt. It helps!” you encouraged him, who whispered a soft thank you before accepting your kind offer and takin a long sip out of the juice carton.

That was the first time you and the blue haired guy met, and you never left his side since that episode.

Years passed and the bond between the two of you grew incredibly strong. The Joestar’s family welcomed you warmly since the very beginning, making you always feel at home. You and Jonathan spent a lot of time around each other; during the younger days, you either went at Jonathan’s or at your place to have some play dates. Growing up, your play dates slowly turned into study sessions and lazy afternoons spent on the couch, catching up one of the many tv series you started watching together. Over the years, Jonathan undeniably became the most relevant figure in your life. He was the first friend you ever had, and you experienced some of life’s most important first times together.

He taught you how to ride a bike. You helped him remove the first milk tooth he lost.

Little episodes like these were what really made your relationship so particular, the affection between the two of you was stronger than any other feeling you ever experienced. You never really investigated the way you felt towards each other, always justifying the reciprocal need of spending time together with the simple excuse of it being a habit. A part of you however, knew exactly the reason why you felt as if your skin starved every time it missed his touch; it was the same reason why you felt a strange sensation in your stomach every time he’d hold you in his arms while watching a movie or simply looked you in your eyes.

Admitting your feelings towards him wasn’t something you’d ever consider. You feared your confession would have ruined years of friendship – and the bond you two shared was far too unique for you to lose it.

That night, Jonathan had one of his usual boxing matches. You never quite understood how Jonathan, the kindest person of all time, could practice such a violent sport. Outside the ring, Jonathan had a very docile behaviour; he was always so kind and a very easy going person. His beautiful smile surely was his signature, it was almost impossible to catch him in a bad mood. Inside the ring however, Jonathan seemed to become a different person. The concentration that the fight required always gave him a stoic expression, which was very unusual for him. His typical gentleness seemed to completely fade away when facing his opponents – but that was part of the game; sports such as boxing didn’t have any space for weaknesses or sentimentalities.

It wasn’t usual for you to assist his matches. You hated the vision of the man you loved getting beaten up with the sole intention of entertainment; seeing him all covered in blood was something you always tried to avoid.

“I know you’re rooting for me” he said to you earlier that afternoon. “But it would be nice to have you there, you know?” he continued, while delicately tracing random patterns on your back with his fingertips. It was impossible for you not to break under his touch, and you ended up agreeing on going to the match. An excited smile formed on Jonathan’s face, who quickly pulled you closer into his arms, wrapping you in his strong, sweet embrace.

“I should say yes more often.” you chuckled, resting your head on his chest and enjoying the feeling of his strong arms around your body.

Once you reached the gym where Jonathan’s match took place, you sat closely enough to the ring. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, unable to not worry about your best friend.

When his tall figure entered the boxe ring, his eyes started scanning every face in the crowd hoping to recognise yours – and when he did, he couldn’t help but smile shyly. He quickly looked back at the arbiter of the match, trying his best to hide his blushing and starting to focus on the match.

The first rounds were okay. Jonathan seemed more than able to handle the fight – it was highly likely for him to win; but he was tired. As time passed, his movements became slower. His shoulders visibly moved up and down as he breathed, emphasising how fatigued his body was. He staggered but tried his best to retrieve some energy, and never gave up until the last minute. The match ended when a strong, well placed punch hit Jonathan’s face, making him trip down and almost breaking his nose. Jonathan’s face quickly became covered in blood and once the arbiter announced the victory of the opponent, you quickly rushed to the ring, reaching Jonathan’s body.

“Are you okay? Let me see!” you said, leaning over him who tiredly laid on the ground, still unable to catch his breath. He simply nodded in response, looking at you with only one eye open while a soft smile adorned his lips. You shook your head hinting a weak laugh, while you helped him to get up. His almost powerless body relayed on yours as you walked to the infirmary, his arched figure still a bit taller than you. After receiving the medical treatments he needed, the two of you made your way out of the gym without saying a word. You were still shaken from the sight of Jonathan’s face covered in blood, even if you knew he was fine.

The awkward silence was interrupted by Jonathan clearing his throat once you reached your car.

“Do you want me to drive?” he asked with a concerned look on his face, his navy blue eyes looking for yours.

He knew exactly how you felt. He saw how your eyes were full of fear when you looked at him laying on the ground, he knew how badly that sight scared you. Afterall, he would have felt the same way if you somehow managed to get hurt.

“Let me.” he added, reaching your hands and slowly taking the car’s keys out of your grip. Placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, he entered the car and silently drove towards the neighbourhood you both lived in. He rested his hand on your thigh during the entire trip as if he wanted to reassure you, lifting it up only when he needed to change the car’s gear. When you finally arrived, he parked the car in front of his home.

“I’ve got some orange juice.” he said keeping his hand on the handbrake of the car, letting out a small laugh to lighten the tension between the two of you. You nodded in response and agreeing to his implict invite, causing Jonathan to smile.

Walking behind him, you entered the house. He extended his arm backwards, only to reach and grab your hand as both of you silently walked into the kitchen. You sat on the table as Jonathan handed you a glass of orange juice, cheering with you before taking a sip.

“Sorry.” you finally said, making Jonathan frown. “I just worried too much. It’s not because I underestimate you, I just hate the whole concept of you getting hurt.”

Jonathan cheeks flushed hearing your words, cautiously bringing himself closer to you inserting himself in the space between your legs. Towering you, he reached one of your cheeks and cupped it with his strong hands. He left a small kiss on your nose before embracing you, letting your head rest on his chest.

“I know.”

You sighed shaking your head; you were sure he had no clue about the reason why you felt this way. It wasn’t a matter of overprotectiveness, nor it was as simple as a worrying for a friend. It was love, although this meant everything and nothing at the same time.

Without any type of warning, Jonathan muscular arms picked you up. Your puzzled expression caused him to laugh, as he walked towards his bedroom and gently laid you on his bed. He handed you one of his t-shirts and laid exactly next to you, stretching his right arm over the length of the bed ready to welcome you in his arms.

“What –“ you were just about to start ranting millions questions when you saw Jonathan shaking his head in dissent.

“Would you just lie with me and just forget the world? Please?” he said, looking at you with the softest eyes you’d ever seen – he knew you just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes. And he was right, as you agreed silently, leaning your head on his chest and listening to the calming sound of his heartbeat.

“I don’t quite know how to explain what I feel,” he said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above you. “But I’d react the same way if you’d ever got hurt.”

You looked at him, your hands caressing the wounds caused by the earlier boxing match. Your fingertips traced his handsome lineaments: his jaw, the shape of his lips, his nose; you couldn’t help but being mesmerised by his beauty and wonder whether he ever looked at you the same way you were doing just now. If he ever shivered whenever you touched him, if he ever felt his heart pounding in his chest just because of something you said.

“It’s not the same, Jonathan.” you mumbled with a distracted tone.

“I think it is.” the sound of this words echoed inside of your head. What did he mean? Did he know? You tried to speak it felt as if words were just trapped in your throat; you gulped, trying to not let your mind jumping to conclusions.

Jonathan attentive eyes were locked on your face, following every movement of yours in hope to decipher your emotions – did he just say too much? He cleared his throat, not knowing exactly what to do. He was just as embarrassed as you were, and afraid that his feelings would have ruined everything.

You smiled as your cheeks were boiling hot, colouring your cheeks in red. You rested your forehead on his, your eyes intertwined in his. He slowly let his hands sliding along your back, stopping them on your hips as he gently put you on top of him. You’ve never been this close; you could hear his breath on your lips, you could see your reflection in his eyes – and you never looked so beautiful.

“Are you sure?” you asked whispering as your lips formed a soft smile on your face.

He smiled in response, nodding. Before you could say anything or process his response, he leaned towards you and kissed you passionately, wrapping his arms around your body as if he wanted to eliminate any space between the two of you. He wanted you closer; closer than you’ve ever been to him.

“Sure.” He replied once he broke your kiss, unable to stop himself from smiling.

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mousehole5000 · 3 years

Text

more tgcf chapters 143-173 lets goooooo

PEI MING BOO HISS except actually okay he’s mostly funny i think but still boo hiss

“hey who’s this guy who’s really pissed at you?” “oh thats my sword. i broke it.” alright then!

i think i need to go back and reread the banyue pass arc bc im still confused as to whats going on with banyue and pei su

“Banyue dropped from the sky with two pots raised. Without a word, she plummeted with the mouths of the pots facing down, trapping and detaining the shocked Ming’guang and the roaring Ke Mo within.” - THATS MY GIRL

“It must be known that, to heavenly officials, it certainly was more than natural for kingdoms of the mortal realm to fight and annihilate one another; the acts of these plays progressing on endlessly. But when it came their own turn, it was often hard to let things go. If one must stand in the same court as the one who annihilated their own kingdom, and that man cavorted in the heavens, exceedingly flashy, then it must be vexing.” - hmmmm!!

“I’ve spoken too many words in this lifetime. What are you referring to?” - okay to be fair thats a mood

okay its nice to get some pei ming backstory and its funny that he and xie lian are bonding but also still whenever pei ming interacts with a female character my hackles rise like a cat lol

“Xie Lian watched as Banyue thought really hard before cheerfully pulling out a few long, wine-red scorpion-snakes, and putting them into the bubbling pot.” - THATS MY GIRL

“Although “smell” was something colourless and formless, the instant Banyue removed the pot cover, it was as if some mysterious physical object had twisted all the air around the mouth of that pot. The group stared at the sight within the pot for a long time. Their pupils reflected an endless, bottomless darkness; like it could pull them into the abyss. No words could describe the sentiment expressed within their eyes. A moment later, Xie Lian patted Banyue’s shoulder and gave a thumbs-up.” - like father-figure like daughter-figure. amazing.

“However, what if one day mortals discovered something completely new that ran faster than horses? Then, when this new invention overtook horses, worshippers of this heavenly official who controlled horses would inevitably decrease. Such heavenly officials, flashing by like shooting stars, made up the majority of the heavens.” - obsessed with this, genuinely. life and change. worship and its purpose. my religious studies diploma on my wall is screaming at me rn. ALSO i am once again thinking about celebrities

“...” It was only then that Pei Ming seemed to notice, and started to contemplate this question. A moment later, he answered, “A habit. In a dark, creepy place like this, isn’t it normal to hold women in your arms, to comfort them and calm their fears?” “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t scared,” Banyue said.” - BANYUE I LOVE YOU. I MISSED YOU SO MUCH. god this takes me back to every college party i ever went to

LING WEN BACKSTORY????? shoeseller chosen for godhood bc she wrote a political essay and got arrested...... and now she’s face to face with the official who appointed her..... do go on.....

“Ling Wen laughed out loud, seeming to be enraged, and her voice dropped. “Very well! You said I couldn’t reach that high. Then, might I ask you: had the prominence of the Palace of Jing Wen at its peak ever reached even the knees of my Palace of Ling Wen??” - GET HIM!!!! BOO HISS JING WEN

“Compared to you, I’m not that bad,” Ling Wen said. “You’d personally order me to stay in the Palace of Jing Wen until midnight, then turn around and say I shamelessly hang around ‘til late to harass you. Words murder without form; I was much nicer responding with blatant violence.” - ling wen im love you..... also this bit... feels Real

BLOOD RAIN BLOOD RAIN BLOOD RAIN!! FLOWER PETALS TRANSFORMATION!!! see hua cheng? look as how cool it can be when you leave the story for a little while!! bc then you get to return and make an entrance!!

“Not only can you bring forth bloody rain, you can also make flowers shower. I didn’t know that. How fun!” - cute!! and in that moment we were all xie lian

“Everyone was stunned by his deed, and Ling Wen arduously gave him a thumbs-up. ”Ol’ Pei, what a man!” Pei Ming gritted his teeth. “WELCOME!” - aww three two tumors buddies!!

okay yin yu is here and xie lian did the equivalent of asking someone when the baby is due only to find out theyre not pregnant at all. then rong guang taunts yin yu and no one says anything. i do love the amount of awkward moments in this book tbh sometimes there are no words.

“All around was sand and mud crushing at him, exceedingly suffocating. The sand and mud was also moving endlessly; the feeling was like he was swallowed into the stomach of a giant monster, and that monster had also eaten a bunch of other things besides him, tumbling everything in its stomach, trying to digest” - ooooh creepy!!! the red string thing... is cute.... also xie lian being able to see hua cheng’s butterfly vision by looking directly into his eye is kinda cool. and obviously homoerotic.

“Are lower-ranked heavenly officials below other people?” Quan Yizhen asked. “No,” Yin Yu replied. Were they not? It was obvious that he himself didn’t believe in his own words, and Quan Yizhen also noticed. A good while later, he said bluntly, “I don’t like it here.” Yin Yu said nothing.” - im having emotions. and then yin yu also saying he doesnt like it there either.... also idk how this scene is going to play out but as much as im enjoying quan yizhen being an icon i can also possibly see how yin yu could eventually get to the point of “i am tired of being nice. i do just want to go apeshit” even if he really cares about qyz. it happens </3

“Indeed,” Hua Cheng said. “Half a year later when Quan Yizhen actually ascends, he won’t find it so funny anymore.” “Can we watch that part too?” Xie Lian asked. “We can. Hold on,” Hua Cheng replied.” - quan yizhen king of taking things literally. also why did this turn into hualian having a movie night

jian yu seems like the kind of asshole who would purposely give someone regular soda when they specifically asked for diet soda. god yin yu is really having a bad day i really feel for him in the whole situation with the brocade immortal

awww okay at least jian yu tried to take responsibility. im still mad at him tho that was objectively a terrible idea. god this whole situation sucked :(

“Rocks and earth crushed at them from all around, forcing their bodies to press tightly against one another, their faces brushing, their ears warm. Although it wasn’t the right time, a thought flashed through Xie Lian’s mind: “‘To die buried together’ doesn’t feel so bad.” - okay... im kind of emotional.... gay people....

okay obviously these murals and the prince of wuyong have some connection (im guessing pretty direct) to xie lian and are important but everytime they start analyzing one i feel like im back in art history class fhadskfhskjdhf not that thats a bad thing!! i liked art history a lot tbh

“Don’t worry, they’re not human,” Hua Cheng said. “It’s precisely because they’re not human that we have to worry, alright….” Xie Lian thought.” - goth ghost bf problems

xie lian: well, there is one person i trust more than anyone else, someone who’s first in my mind hua cheng, oblivious: oh :/ xie lian, also oblivious: what? hua cheng: you shouldnt trust so easily its dangerous xie lian: oh. haha. yeah. well. wanna,,, know who it is? hua cheng: its :) fine :) it :) doesnt :) matter :) but of course you can tell me if you want to gege xie lian, internally: well now ive made it weird hua cheng, 5 minutes later: actually i need you to tell me. right now. its totally for your security me: gay people smh

“As they suspected, he had been captured by Qi Rong. Although no one was bound by ropes, there were balls of greasily green ghost fires hovering over every one of their heads.” - completely off track but anybody else remember the great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts song

“Could there actually come a day when Qi Rong was embarrassed that someone might see the manner in which he ate? Before Xuan Ji entered, she put Guzi down. Guzi, ta-ta-ta, ran in, rushing straight to Qi Rong’s side. But when he saw him, he pointed his finger. He cried, “Dad is eating bad things in secret again!” “I’m not!” Qi Rong retaliated.” SCREAM IS QI RONG LEARNING THE POWER OF LOVE NOOOO also god that poor man whose body he has im starting to doubt if he’ll ever be free jimmy novak flashbacks

everytime we get another ghost king power somewhere someone should be writing hua cheng the cyborg bf in a high tech futuristic au i think thats the only other potential setting that could truly capture this wild ride

“In truth, throughout history, there was no man in the world who didn’t love bragging. A breeze could blow the handkerchief of a brothel girl into a man’s hand, and he would turn around and say the most beautiful of renowned escorts had fallen in love with him; holding shoes and wiping benches for the emperor’s mistress’s uncle’s grandson’s cousin’s mistress would for sure become him being an important administrator at the residence of royal relatives, raising his status. Thus, men who didn’t brag were a rare species.” - SCREAM this is going in my favorite tgcf quotes folder god... mxtx come here let me shake your hand

read the story of rain master yushi huang’s ascension. why am i crying. also this bit im crying again me with my stuffed animals “Thus, while Yushi Huang was cultivating at the Temple of Yulong, every time when she went to seek water and passed that door, she would rub the head of that ox. The door knocker soaked in her essence of life, and when the Rain Master ascended, the ox ascended with her.”

okay thats enough for now i have 7 more chapters to book 4!!! woo!!!

#tgcf liveblog #bedtime now but im excited to be moving on #mouse mumbles

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sirescumbag · 4 years

Note

Hey I’m afraid I might even annoy you although it’s just my second ask but please don’t feel pressured to rush your art or feel bad about the lack of equipment rn. I-We, enjoy your art because of the way you show expressions, draw characters faces and the energy of it, for that it really doesn’t matter how you made it, as well as the quantity because as much as I enjoy every piece you create, you deserve to have fun while making them and I have no problems to waiting for your wonderful creations

OH!!!!! MY GOODNESS !! NO you are most definitely not an annoyance, quite the opposite!!! the opposite times ten!!!!! oh lord how can i underline this a million times

i am nothing but absolutely charmed to make your acquaintance again, dear starconfusedtellation :,) how in the heavens could I ever be offended by the presence of such a thoughtful person with such kind words? and to be graced not once, but twice! it would criminal of me to consider it nothing less than an honor :,)

wow. wow,, how can i begin with how your words make me feel?? how????? i don’t know if my vocabulary can handle this challenge oh lord i’m gonna revert to yoda grammar again

ok let’s start with my initial reaction which was, SEVErE WHEEZING

have i mentioned before just how incredibly sweet you are? wELL ITS WORTH REPEATING BECOS, YOU ARE, VERY SWEET THANK YOU, WOWI E

hHHHHH thank you for the reassurance!!! really and truly. i am BEYOND touched that you have reached out to try and remove any pressure that i felt :,))

after having received so much love from various people, i am only too happy to return the favor through my art if i can!! if i could compare, the pressure is a bit like buyin a birthday gift, i guess?? a bit stressful in taking time and thought, but it is always so very rewarding to think of the smiles at the end! art did start out as something i did purely for my own enjoyment, but i have only found more reasons to enjoy creating by hearing people like you sharing their thoughts :,))

it can be a delicate balance, making sure the happiness to provide artwork doesn’t veer into an uncomfortable pressure,,, It is a great comfort and relief to hear from those consuming my works themselves that it is ok to relax :,) i will take your kind words into heart whenever i feel such pressures again, miss starconfusedtellation!! it is an important, thoughtful message, and i am very touched that you deemed it important enough to tell me.

my artwork may lessen somewhat in quality as school will be takin up a majority of my time in the near future, but i hope that doodles drawn on the back of worksheets will suffice!!! and i will find a solace in knowing that at least one person will enjoy my works as they are, despite a rather jumpy schedule, and that is more than enough for me :)) i know i’ve said this like 10 times but :DD thank you again for thinking of me!! it really is incredibly sweet and thoughtful of you, i will hold this in my heart for quite a while, thank you :,)))))

#ask #your name in my brain is #starconfusedtellation the very eloquent and thoughtful #part two :)#i am always blessed to have a part two interaction with you!!!#here is reminder part 2 that you are DEFINITELY NOT ANNOYING you are very sweet thank you very much

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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years

Text

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Eleven

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost (ff.net isn’t working for me rn, so i’ll update chapter eleven there probably tomorrow)

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me)

hey hey hey!! i’m back with chapter eleven after only two weeks!! i was actually procrastinating writing my poetry essay and working on my novel by writing this, so that counts as productivity, right?

thanks to my fantabulous beta @thestarwhowishes and thank to you all for reading!! i am just floored by all of your support, it means so much to me!!

(and psst!! if you like my writing maybe try out my sideblog where i post original content @liorzoewrites)

anyway, chapter eleven! enjoy!

---

November 2 - 4 years after

When Hazar finally arrives at the shop, Maz, Amir, and Xeyale start to tell the whole staff what happened at Amalike Orchards’ berry fair.

“Chokecherry already had booths set up when we got there,” Maz says, grimacing. “With Morrisey’s new novel.”

“And they had agents with them,” Xeyale adds.

Adil frowns. “What do you mean, agents?”

“Publishing agents.”

“They were signing authors at the fair?” Hazar asks, disbelief all over his normally cheerful face.

“Not exactly,” Xeyale says.

“They were taking in manuscripts,” Amir says. “For short stories, we think. We think their plan is to publish a collection of them.”

“And that’s their brilliant archiving strategy?” Nesta says. “Just taking any short story from any writer who shows up at the berry fair and tying it all together into a book?” She shares a look with Adil. No one appreciates the art of literature anymore.

“It is a brilliant strategy,” Hazar says, reluctant to admit it.

“We think so, too,” Amir says, and Xeyale nods behind them. Before any of them can protest, Amir raises their hands in surrender. “Look, you’re all archivists. Readers. Some of you are writers. But from publishing and marketing standpoints...it goes faster. If one author writes a three hundred page novel, that one author has to have a good idea and a good execution. Or people won’t buy it. But if you get ten authors each writing thirty pages...even if four of them aren’t that great, people will still buy it for the sixth.”

“Or one big name author with a few other smaller ones,” Hazar says. “That’ll sell just the same.”

“But the same number of books get sold,” Adil says. “Don’t they lose money, with all the authors they have to pay per book?”

“More books get sold,” Hazar says.

“It suits a larger audience,” Nesta realizes. “So more people buy it.” Because those six authors they’ll buy the book for are different authors for everyone.

Sometimes Nesta hates individual taste. Especially if it’s poor.

Adil puts his head in his hands. “How many publishing agents do they have?”

“Not many,” Maz says. “We only saw three at the fair.”

“For all those new authors?”

“I imagine the authors aren’t treated very well,” Hazar says, frowning slightly. “But they might not care, if they get published quickly.”

“That’ll be bad for them in the long run, though,” Leyla says, speaking up.

“I agree with you, but again, they might not care.”

“Do we have to start publishing short story collections?” Zeyn asks.

Nesta thinks about what would go into that. They would need to find so many new authors. Sugar Books--and Adil--believes in the separation of genre, so they couldn’t just cram any random ten stories together. It would go against their idea of what the literary world should be. What would that take, to find a variety of authors who write on the same subject, with the enough of the same general style to create harmony, but each unique enough to justify its presence in the book?

She shivers involuntarily, very thankful for Cassian’s shared account.

"We’ll definitely have to start signing more authors,” Adil decides. “We’ll...send out scouts.”

“To Chokecherry?” Maz says.

“No,” Adil says. “But everywhere else. Where authors frequent. We’ll have to go overtime on reading manuscripts. But we will not--” he slams his hand down on the table quite suddenly, startling them all “--compromise on the integrity and quality of literature.”

“Hear, hear!” Zeyn calls, and Nesta suppresses a smile. He catches it and winks at her.

“We’ll split up. Xeyale, Amir, and Nesta, you’ll stay and run the shop. Hazar, you stay here, too, and wait for our new clients. Miri and I will go to Berries’ Rivers, Maz, you go to Privet Falls, Leyla, Wintergreen Glen, and Zeyn, Juniper Hills. We’re talent scouting. Find places authors frequent, approach them, if they’re any good, send them here.” He looks at them all intently.

Zeyn and Nesta exchange a glance.

“Ah, Adil,” Zeyn says, rather timid. “You do know that that’s insane, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says, already making to leave the room and go back to his office.

“All the gods,” Hazar says, standing up. “I’ve got to go get a cup of coffee.” And he leaves too.

“I mean, that’s insane, right?” Zeyn says.

“I think we’re all in agreement of that, yes,” Leyla says, nodding.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Miri says.

They all look at her.

"Maybe it’s time for a change,” she defends. “Maybe this is the way to do it. This is what they do in the acting industry, right?”

“But this isn’t the acting industry.”

“He’s really stressed about this,” Miri says. “He doesn’t want this place to lose anymore than Chokecherry has already taken from it.” He doesn’t want any of you to lose anymore than Chokecherry has taken, she doesn’t say, but they all see it in her eyes. “I think it will work.” She stands. “And at any rate...it’s what we’re doing.” She leaves.

“I hate what this is doing to everyone,” Maz complains, and Nesta hates to agree with him, but she does too.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be the only archivist while you’re all off turning into the acting industry,” she says, shaking her head.

Zeyn and Leyla laugh.

"Don’t worry,” Xeyale says, grinning at her. “We’ll be here to keep you company.”

“A real comfort,” she says dryly. She stands too. “Well, I suppose we’ve got work to do. We need to find all the places...authors frequent.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, in a fifty mile radius,” Maz grumbles. “This is never going to work.”

“Don’t say that,” Zeyn says lightly. “It might. And wouldn’t it be great? To discover new talent like that?”

Nesta knows the question isn’t directed at her, but she wonders anyway--what would it be like? In publishing? She didn’t think she’d like archiving before she started; she thought reading was the only thing she enjoyed.

That’s not something she can explore now, though, and that’s why Adil is having her stay here. So she shakes herself and goes to find maps of the surrounding towns.

---

November 20 - Year of

She avoided him for days after she snapped. He caught her in the living room when she came back from work one day.

“Wait, Nesta,” he said, jumping to his feet as soon as she walked in.

Nesta stifled a groan. She didn’t want to have this conversation.

She didn’t like that tentative, detached politeness. She was angry.

(And Cassian was anything but tentative and detached. It felt abnormal sharing that with him.)

“Please,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

Nesta said stiffly, “Don’t worry about it,” and tried to push past him.

“No, Nesta,” he said, raising his hands and blocking her path to the hallway. “Not for breakfast. I mean, yes for breakfast, but also...for everything. For bringing you here. For...leaving you here.”

She froze. He did too.

She moved her eyes from his face. She couldn’t look at him.

Why was everything so hot all of a sudden?

“I...should have known this wasn’t the right thing to do,” he said, slowly, carefully. Nesta could tell he was thinking hard about each word before he said it. “To bring you here and leave you alone. Here, of all places. We thought...I thought it would be good for you. I thought...you would have space and maybe you would want to train and that would be a good outlet for you the same way it is for me and you’d get....”

Better, he didn’t say.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was hoarse and Nesta was scared to look at him so she didn’t.

He sat back down. “That’s...all I wanted to say,” he said lamely.

Nesta kept her eyes averted as she nodded slightly and ducked into the hall, into her room, shutting the door behind her.

He apologized.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

And he certainly seemed sorry--just by his voice, of course, because she hadn’t seen his face.

He’d thought she might want to train...he didn’t know her at all, clearly. And he hadn’t mentioned all of it; not all that happened in Velaris and the fact that she was this thing now, but she was glad of it, because all he did say was nearly too much to bear.

And she couldn’t spend the rest of her night going over everything, playing it all back in her head until she knew the words by heart, so she tried to best to put it all out of her mind.

Because...was she supposed to forgive him now?

---

November 2 - 4 years after

The staff is gone later that day, as Adil is determined to discover five brilliant new authors before the month is over. Nesta is glad Miri is going with him; she might talk some sense into him.

“Does he actually think Gilameyva’s just bleeding ingenious writers?” Leyla had muttered to her before they all left.

Nesta laughed a little. “He’s just anxious,” she said, echoing Miri.

"I can’t believe I have to go to Wintergreen Glen. It’s so boring.”

"Well, maybe you’ll find a whole new world to fall into.”

"Right. I’m sure we’ll find the next Morrissey in Wintergreen Glen.”

"Why not?” Zeyn had said, appearing next to them. “Morrisey’s from Privet Falls.”

And Morrissey, Nesta thinks to herself as she walks back home, isn’t even that great of a writer.

She doesn’t have to pick up the children from nursery because Cassian’s already got them. It’s quite nice, actually, to be able to spend a little while longer at work locking up and stop for a coffee from Jamal’s without worrying too much.

Aysel is there, too, and she walks back with her. “So,” she says to her, eager to get to the point after what was surely a painful exchange of pleasantries for the town’s resident busybody, “I hear that Cassian of yours has been staying for quite some time.”

"He comes and goes.”

"He’s been here a week.”

“That’s true,” she says.

“I saw him today. He picked the children up. Oh, they’re so cute, you know. Just the sweetest little things.”

“I agree with you.”

“You do such a good job with them!”

“Thank you, Aysel.”

“I remember when they were born. Ooh, Ollie was so tiny, do you remember?”

“Their birth?” Nesta laughs. “Vividly.”

Aysel laughs too, in that hurried way she always does. “Of course, of course. He’s so big now.”

“He is,” she agrees. She can’t believe it, sometimes, how much they have grown in three years. Especially Ollie; he had been so small.

“And his father,” Aysel says, in a tone she thinks is supposed to be sly. “Well, he’s not small, is he?”

“He’s tall,” Nesta says neutrally.

“ Very tall. Probably the tallest person in Sugar Valley, ever.”

“We had some tall people in for the last Berry Fair.”

“Tallest one now.”

“Probably.”

“How tall do you think your boys are going to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“And Ava?”

“Taller than I am, I hope.”

“Oh, don’t say that, dearie. You’re such a darling height.”

They reach their street then, and Nesta might’ve invited her for strawberry tea and jam, but she’s not going to. Confirming personally that Cassian is her children’s father to Aysel is one thing, inviting her inside to meet him is quite another.

“Well, have a good evening, Aysel,” she says.

“You too, dearie. Kisses to the babies!”

She waves at her over her shoulder and strides up to her porch.

She might’ve guessed something is wrong by the fact that she can’t hear any noise from the inside, but she knows for sure because Cassian rips the door open as soon as she reaches it. His face is pale.

Nesta’s heart drops. “What is it?” A million different scenarios run through her mind, each one worse than the last.

“Come inside,” is all he says.

They rush up the stairs, Nesta’s pulse going faster than it ever has before when he leads her up the stairs and to her children’s bedroom. She braces herself as best she can for when she goes inside, but she knows there isn’t a good way to prepare.

But they’re all there...whole. In three perfect pieces. Nicky and Ollie laying in the beds, Avery standing in between them, her hand on Nicky’s form.

She looks at Cassian, his face still ashen. “What?” she asks.

His eyes widen. “They’re sick!”

Nesta throws a hand to her forehead. For mercy’s sake. “Don’t,” she says, rubbing her temples, “ever deliver news to me that way.”

Her heartbeat back to normal, she joins Avery in the middle of her sons’ beds. She settles herself on her knees and pulls her close. She doesn’t feel hot.

"How are you feeling, ladybug?”

"Good,” she says, slightly muffled against Nesta’s body. She looks up at her. “Nicky and Ollie are sick.”

"Yes,” she says, nodding. Then she looks at Cassian. “It’s flu season.”

"Emilia’s sick, too.”

"Yes,” she says, still looking pointedly at Cassian. “Probably the flu, poor thing.”

He glares at her, but she can see his coloring darkens slightly, which probably would have delighted her once.

She doesn’t hate it, now.

She puts her hand on Nicky’s forehead and then Ollie’s. A fever, each of them. Ollie is sleeping soundly, and Nicky seems like he’ll fall asleep soon.

"Mummy will bring you something to drink,” she whispers to him, dropping a kiss on his forehead.

She leads Avery and Cassian out of the room.

“I don’t want to be sick.”

“You won’t,” she assures her. “You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want my brothers to be sick.”

Nesta feels the same rush of overwhelming emotion she always does when her children express how much they love each other. “Don’t worry,” she says to her, smiling. “They’ll be better soon. Why don’t you go play outside for a bit?”

“Are you out of your mind?” she says to Cassian when she’s gone. “Do you know what went through my head?”

"They’re sick!”

“Children get sick! People get sick! They’ll get better!”

“Well, I’ve never had children get sick before!”

Nesta softens at the fear in his voice, shining through his eyes as well. “They’ll be fine,” she says in a more gentle tone. “It’ll be a few days...it’s properly miserable to see them, but they’ll be fine. I only don’t want to keep Avery here...I don’t want her to get sick, too. Normally I’d ask Miri and Adil,” she says, talking more to herself. “But they’re gone, and I can’t ask Amorette. I guess I’ll keep her in my room. Oh, and I’ll have to stay here. Oh, but I’m alone at the store....”

"You’re alone at the store?”

"Yes, Adil’s got everyone traipsing around the country, looking for authors,” she says, waving a hand. “Unless...when are you going back?”

“Not before they’re better.”

Nesta straightens. That was the right answer. “Well, could you watch them during the day?”He nods, his expression casual, but Nesta can tell he’s terrified.

"It’s really not that big of a deal,” she says. “I’ll show you which medication to give them, how often. I’ll make soup. They’ll need fluids. Oh, and Nicky can’t have plain water when he’s sick, he’ll need tea...I’ll write this down for you...but it’s not like I’m going to be leaving you alone,” she adds at the sight of him. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. Just work.”

“I know,” he says. Hesitates. “I just...”

“What?”

“I’m...worried.”

Nesta puts down the pen she’s picked up and crosses the room to his side. She moves her hand to take his, but thinks better of it. “You don’t need to. They’ll be fine. So will you. You’ve been...” her eyes dart around the room, but she meets his gaze when she says, “very helpful. This week.”

His head lifts slightly, and that all-too-familiar cocky grin appears. “Yeah?”

“Yes. In fact...” Now Nesta hesitates. “Maybe...if you would feel comfortable...you could spend the night with Avery at Miri’s house?”

His grin slides off his face.

“If it’s too soon,” she says quickly, “then--you know what? Forget--”

“No!” he says. “No, I can! I can--sure. At Miri’s...yes. I can. I know what she needs. I can...yes.”

“All right,” she says, relieved somewhat. “I’ll...make you a list.”

“Okay.”

“And...she’ll have flying lessons tomorrow. Maybe you’d like to go with her? And I’ll stay home with the boys?”

Nesta’s never seen his eyes light up the way they do now.

---

November 12 - 1 year after

She didn’t feel exactly ill, but she felt off. Like the world had been tilted a few degrees. She had been hungrier than normal for her the past week or so, but it’s not till that day she wondered if something was wrong with her.

Only briefly. Then she pushed the thought aside. Things were going well, and she didn’t need to look for something to be upset about.

"Good morning, Nesta,” Zeyn greeted her cheerfully. How was he always so happy all the time? It was jarring.

"Hello, Zeyn,” she said, rubbing her temples.

“Headache?”

“No...” she said, because her head didn’t hurt, it just felt...weird. “Just tired.” Perhaps that was it.

“I’ve got a lot of new books today. Maybe you’d like to read one. Do you like mystery?”

“It’s all right,” she said. Most mystery novels were predictable to her. “I’ve got to finish mine, though.”

“How have you been with all those?” he asked, following her to the back room.

All that is Holy, she thought. “It’s going well, thanks.” It was reading. And fixing up books. And setting a price. As long as you could read, it wasn’t hard.

“I just get so overwhelmed sometimes,” he said. “You know, all those books. In such a short amount of time. And how do you set a price!”

“Length and demand,” she said, frowning slightly. How else would you set a price?

“Yes, but it’s hard to foresee demand at a store that sells used books,” he said. “I imagine it’s even more so for you, because human-authored books are so unpopular. Not that they aren’t good! Just so, I guess, uncommon. Yes, that’s the word. It’s rare to come across one. But now that the Wall is down, we might trade more. It’d be really fascinating, don’t you think, to see what books are popular with humans. Don’t you think? Nesta?”

“Just...” Nesta said, “I. Oh. Oh, I have to...” she trailed off, not being able to hear herself suddenly.

“Here, lie down.” She could feel a pair of warm, strong hands lower her gently to the ground. Oh, it felt so-- wrong , to be touched like that. By another male’s hands. Oh, she didn’t like it...

The room was spinning. She could hear more voices. Emerie was yelling. No, not Emerie. Not Emerie, right? Who was that? Who was speaking?

Someone was saying her name. Someone...but she couldn’t hear.

And then she couldn’t see.

---

November 2 - 4 years after

Cassian’s still has yet to regain his power of speech, but it doesn’t matter, because Ava keeps the conversation going on her own.

“And I will put my horse here, and I will put my dog here, and I will put my owl here...” she sing-songs, placing her stuffed animals in various spots on the bed he has set up for her in Miri’s house.

She’s ready to go to sleep, after being fed and bathed at Nesta’s house. But she wants to set up the room the way she likes it first.

"And I want...my giraffe.”

“Your giraffe?” Cassian repeats, looking around. “I don’t see...”

“Nicky has it.”

“Nicky has it?”

“Yes.”

“But Nicky’s at home.”

“Let’s go get it.”

“Well,” he says, wishing Nesta were here, “we’ll go home tomorrow morning, and we’ll bring your giraffe then.”

Ava looks outraged. “I want it now!”

She hadn’t mentioned this. Nesta didn’t say anything about a giraffe. And he’s never been out with Ava before; how was he supposed to know? “But...we’ll let Nicky have it. Because he’s sick. Just for tonight.” Maybe that tactic will work?

Ava considers it. “Tomorrow I will get my giraffe?”

He’s nothing if not strategic. “Yes. Tomorrow.”

“Not tonight?”

“No, not tonight.”

Ava thinks some more. “All right, tomorrow.”

Cassian breathes a sigh of relief. Ava’s been throwing crisis after crisis at him. He feels like a novice, back when he did simulations. When his commanders had given them every possible thing that could go wrong, all at the same time. There was an Illyrian expression that loosely translated into “difficult training makes for an easy battle”--but there is no training for parenting and it is by no definition an easy battle.

“Tell me a story,” she orders him when he finally convinces her to get into bed.

Cassian nods. Nesta had told him one as they packed, reciting the important lines a few times over for him to memorize. “I’ll tell you the one about Jack,” he says.

“No, I don’t want Jack.”

Fantastic.

"Well,” he says, trying to keep a level head. “What...story do you want?”

“Not a Mummy story.”

“What’s a Mummy story? Oh, not one of Mummy’s stories.” She wants one of his? Nesta wouldn’t like him telling any Illyrian tales...and he doesn’t think it’s a particularly good idea either. “Maybe...” Cassian rack his brain. He has stories, doesn’t he? One of them must be child-friendly. Or he can edit it to make it so.

Had he ever gone on some sort of quest that didn’t end in bloodshed?

“Not too long ago,” he says, in the way Illyrian tales always start, realizing as he begins that it’s quite eerie, but no matter, “there was a male who loved a female very much. And the female loved...very much...more than anything in the world...chocolate.”

Ava laughs. “I love chocolate!”

“You do? Well, the female loved chocolate so much, but there was one type of chocolate she loved more than all the others. But she hadn’t had it since she was a little girl, and she now lived very far away from the place where they made it. One day, she was very sad...and he knew only that chocolate would make her happy again. So he decided he would travel to find it.

“He had to cross an ocean and many lands, for only one tiny little town across the world made this exact kind of chocolate. When he got to the tiny town, he searched and searched for the chocolate shop. And then...he found it. And he bought some chocolate...and he brought it home...and then the female was happy again,” he finishes lamely.

Ava looks at him, unimpressed. He doesn’t blame her. Although in his defense, it had been more exciting when it had actually happened.

“Tell it again!” she says.

He does, trying to make it sound better this time around, but he isn’t very good at it. He might’ve laced the story with bits and pieces of other (real) quests he had been on, but he isn’t sure what he’s allowed to say.

After the second time, Ava looks at him thoughtfully. “That was not a good story,” she tells him.

He laughs a little. “I’m sorry. Should I tell you the story about Jack?”

“Yes!”

He recites the story Nesta had told him, exactly the way she had instructed, and Ava is thrilled. She laughs and claps along.

"Again!” she says when he finishes. And again and again.

Until he says, “It’s time for you to go to sleep, now, Ava.”

"So let’s go home.”

“We’re sleeping here tonight, Ava, remember?”

To his horror, her eyes well up with tears. “I want to go home with Mummy and Nicky and Ollie.”

“Don’t cry,” he says, fretting. “Don’t--it’s okay, don’t--oh....”

“I don’t--want--to stay here,” she sobs. “I want to go home!”

“I’m sorry...we’ll go home tomorrow, Ava.”

“I want my giraffe!”

“But we said we’d let Nicky have the giraffe tonight, don’t you remember?” he says desperately. But Ava doesn’t care. He can’t quite make out exactly what she’s saying and he doesn’t know what to do.

So he picks her up out of bed and lays her against his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to bounce her. That’s how to calm children down, right?

“I don’t want to stay here all by myself!” Her cries are muffled against him.

“Well, you’re not all by yourself,” he says. “I’m here. I’m staying with you.” Would that be enough? Please let that be enough. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if that’s not good enough for her. Just for one night.

She sniffles a little and lifts her head, looking up at him with his own eyes. Except so innocent, so pure. “Can I sleep in your bed?” she asks, voice still wavering.

Relief crashes over him. “Sure,” he says. “Of course.”

The smile she gives him is vibrant, and he marvels at how little he loved her at the beginning of the week compared to now.

---

November 30 - Year of

She’d told her sister, once, that the last thing she would want would be to be remembered as a coward. She felt like one now.

Like a coward and angry and hurt, perhaps, more than anything. Which made her feel stupid.

Sometimes Nesta thought she felt too much.

After Cassian had apologized, she’d fled to her room and avoided him successfully for over a week. It was made easier by the fact that he did have to leave a few times during the week, to one of those neighboring camps he always went off to.

She didn’t want to think about it. Especially the pain. Because if he had hurt her...she didn’t let herself finish the thought.

But one afternoon, at work, while counting out jackets in the back, she heard Emerie say, “What are you doing here?”

And then she heard him reply, “I came to see Nesta.”

She nearly dropped the jacket she was holding. She normally felt him before she heard him. Where had that gone? It was of no use to her when they were both in the house, and now it was too late to sneak out the back, because he was coming.

"Nesta,” he said, pushing open the door.

“The sign says ‘employees only’,” she blurted out, which she knew was the stupidest thing she could have said, but it was too late.

“Emerie said I could go in.”

Traitor.

“I needed to talk to you.”

“It couldn’t wait? I’m working.” Perhaps he’d make some snide comment about working in a clothier as opposed to being the Night Court’s Emissary and then she could pick a fight over that and kick him out of the shop and they’d go back to the way things were when she got here. Except she’d have Emerie and her drinking habit more under control, so it’d be better.

But he just said, “I know. I’m sorry, it couldn’t wait. I’ll be leaving again soon. For about five days, I think. Maybe longer. And I couldn’t go without...” he trailed off. Ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sound. “I keep doing things wrong with you, Nesta.

She averted her gaze. She couldn’t do this. This was too much. And if he mentioned...that day...the battlefield...she didn’t know what she would do.

But he did.

“I promised you time, once,” he said softly.

No. No, she could not do this.

“I have to go,” she managed. She pushed past him, quickly, careful not to touch him.

“Wait, Nesta, please--”

“Nesta,” Emerie said, turning as she entered the room. “Where are you--?”

But Nesta didn’t stay to hear her finish. Instead, she ran.

---

November 3 - 4 years after

This time it is Nesta who rips open the door as soon as she hears Cassian approaching.

“Mummy!” Avery calls, reaching her arms out for her.

“Hi, ladybug,” Nesta croons. She holds her tightly against herself. “I missed you so much.”

She had regretted sending Cassian out with her the moment they had gone. She hadn’t spent a night away from them, ever. She had never not tucked them into bed. And now...Avery had had a night without her. It felt like she should look different. There should be some mark upon her face.

But her daughter looks just as she did last night, just as cheerful and chattery. Cassian looks relatively unscathed, too, if a bit tired.

“Did you have fun?” she asks her as she ushers them inside.

“Appa told me a boring story,” Avery says, and wiggles out of Nesta’s arm onto the ground. “I want some orange juice in my purple cup, please.”

“Boring story?” Nesta says to Cassian.

“She didn’t want yours. And I didn’t want to tell her something you wouldn’t approve of. She still asked for it again, anyway,” he says defensively.

Nesta looks at him. “And you told it to her?”

“Yes.” Now he looks unsure. “And then she wanted yours...so I told that one, like, three times.”

Nesta shakes her head. She looks at Avery. Her daughter knows how to get what she wants, that’s for sure. “Did she ask to sleep in your bed, too?”

“...is that bad?”

Nesta rolls her eyes. Avery wraps everyone she meets around her little finger. Why should her father be any different?

“How are Nicky and Ollie?” he asks.

"Still ill,” she says. “The main thing is just to keep them on a constant stream of fluids so they don't dehydrate. Soup, if they feel up for it. Talk to them if you can, but they might be too tired.”

“Shouldn’t we take them to a healer?”

She hadn’t realized how much she’d appreciate hearing him say we . “We don’t need to,” she says. “It’s the common flu. They’ll be fine.”

“So...you never take them to the healer? If they have the flu?”

“It’s not necessary if it lasts only a couple of days,” she reminds him, “for adults and children both.”

“Infants--”

“Not the same,” she explains patiently. “They can digest medication. Infants can’t.”

She finishes putting Avery’s breakfast in front of her. “When you’re done, Mummy will take you to nursery.”

“I want to say hello to Nicky and Ollie.”

“Finish your breakfast and then go,” she says to her. Then she says to Cassian, “Well, other than that...how was it?”

“She cried,” he admits. Then he grins. “But I calmed her down.”

“By letting her sleep in your bed.”

“Why is that not allowed?”

Nesta shakes her head again. “You were only with her. What if they all wanted to sleep in your bed?”

“What then?”

“They would kick you out and you would end up on the floor.” Nesta had thought moving them into their own beds would be a hard step, and it was, but as soon as she woke up from her first night alone in over two years, she didn’t miss it anymore.

Cassian laughs. “I can take them.”

Nesta hides a smile. “Finish up, Avery,” she says. “It’s almost time to go.”

She busies herself around the kitchen with nothing in particular, just feeling his eyes on her.

---

November 12 - 1 year after

She could hear everyone around her before she could see them. Low, hushed voices. Some whirring sound, too. She shivered from the cold and from something else.

“Oh, she’s waking up,” she heard someone whisper.

“Nesta?” another voice said. Miri, from Sugar Books. What was she doing here?

Nesta opened her eyes. Where was here, exactly?

Here was a small room Nesta didn’t recognize. Pale blue walls decorated with tiny sugar berries; the sheets on the bed she was lying on the same design. The curtains on the window were a cheerful yellow and the expressions on Zeyn and Miri’s faces were anything but.

“Can you hear us, Nesta?”

Nesta struggled to sit upright. “Of course I can hear you,” she said, grumbling slightly. “What are these?” She shook her arm as she spoke, at the needles prodded inside her. She was in an infirmary of some kind. She vaguely remembered blacking out at the store, but since she could feel no pain, she assumed she was fine. Probably just dehydrated. After all, she had been Made. The epitome of perfection, was she not? She didn’t get sick anymore.

“Fluids,” Zeyn said unhelpfully.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course they were fluids. But Zeyn was harmless, if annoying, and she didn’t want to start an antagonistic relationship with the coworker who clearly liked her best.

“You blacked out,” Miri said, her wide dark eyes searching Nesta’s face. “We brought you to the clinic. A healer is seeing to you. Her name’s Amorette. She’s fairly new here, but I’ve been told she’s very good.”

Nesta nodded. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said, hoping they’ll hear the dismissal.

They do. “Feel better, Nesta,” Zeyn said, reaching her hand to squeeze it. She tried not to flinch.

“We’ll be by to check in on you,” Miri said.

Oh, for the love of all things Holy. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She smiled as she spoke, hoping she did so normally.

Cassian used to make fun of her forced smiles. You look like you’re in pain.

Why was she thinking of him all of a sudden?

They left as the healer stood in the room. She looked to be about Nesta’s age--although with Fae, you couldn’t really tell, could you? But at any rate, a pretty, High Fae female, with light blue eyes and blond hair that kept tied at the nape of her neck.

“Good afternoon, Miss Archeron,” the healer said. “I’m Amorette Dadashov. I’ll be your healer today. May I come in?”

Nesta raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” she said, pleasantly surprised at the healer asking permission.

Healer Dadashov closed the door behind her. She was holding a notebook in her hand. “I can see all your vitals have returned to normal,” she said, without checking them like a mortal nurse would have to. “All things considered.”

"All things considered?”

“Yes,” she said, flipping through the pages of her book. “I understand you’re new in town?”

What on Earth did that have to do with anything? “Yes.”

“And, forgive me, you’re here alone?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“And you’ve not been to our clinic yet, correct?”

“Correct.” Shouldn’t that all be in her book? Why is she asking all this?

“So your options have not yet been explained to you?” Dadashov looked Nesta in the eye as she spoke.

Nesta’s patience was wearing thin. “Look,” she snapped, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’d very much like if you could just tell me what happened and what I have to do so it doesn’t happen again and let me go. Please,” she added as an afterthought. It didn’t sound very gracious.

Dadashov’s eyes widened. “Miss Archeron,” she said, not quite stuttering but certainly with none of the confidence she’d had before. “You do...I mean...you know that you’re pregnant?”

Nesta’s favorite book as a child was about magic. It wasn’t called magic, of course, for in the tiny human section of their island, magic was shunned. But that power to manipulate nature; that was what it was. The heroine was a girl named Avery, and Avery’s villain was a woman who could make things vanish. The most terrifying part of the story, in eight-year-old Nesta’s opinion, was the part where the villain made the floor vanish right from underneath Avery, and she fell and fell for miles until she could get her magic working to pull herself back up.

Nesta felt that. But there was no one to pull her back up. Because she was alone. There was only falling.

“I...can see you did not know,” Dadashov said softly. “All right, well...” She pulled a chair towards the bed and sat down. She gripped Nesta’s hands, hers a warm peach next to Nesta’s stark white. “It’s going to be all right,” she said soothingly. “The clinic is very well prepared for any option you choose. We have three healer’s for female reproduction, myself included. We’re all more than capable of treating you in whatever...oh, dear. Here,” she said, passing her a wad of tissue paper.

“Oh,” Nesta said, taking some and wiping her eyes. “Oh, er, tha--”

But she choked on her words.

What was she supposed to do?

“I can’t be pregnant,” she whispered aloud. Because she couldn’t. Then she realized--she truly couldn’t. “This...can't be possible. I haven’t...been with anyone in months.” Even with the gravity of the situation, Nesta still felt a slight blush creep up on her cheeks. Perhaps she had not entirely thrown out the excessive modesty of her upbringing with her few months of numerous partners in Velaris, and the few months living with Cassian.

Oh, Mother. Cassian.

“It’s...possible for a female to get pregnant months after intercourse,” the healer said slowly, carefully, like Nesta was an idiot.

“It is?” she replied, feeling like one.

“Yes.”

Of course, Nesta thought, thinking it through. Because her cycle was so slow...and that meant her whole system was so slow...and if pregnancy once would have occurred a few days after sex, now it happened months.

And she had stopped taking the potion. Because she had stopped sleeping with people. But that didn’t matter, because it had only been...Nesta counted backwards in her head...a month since she had last slept with Cassian.

(A month? Had it really only been a month?)

Nesta put her head in her hands. “All right,” she said, summoning her nerve. “Tell me about the other two healers.”

“Well,” Dadashov said, slightly taken aback, “there’s Huseyn Por--”

“Male.”

“Er, yes.”

“No. The other one.”

"Marya Kamal. She’s brilliant, one of the best in the field. We’re lucky to have her. Her studies--”

“How old is she?”

“Er,” Dadashov said, eyes darting around. “I believe...twelve-hundred, or so?”

“No. You, then. All right.” Nesta paused to take a deep breath. “I don’t know anything about faerie reproduction. I wasn’t born faerie. And I...can’t have this baby.”

Eugh, why did she say baby?

Dadashov’s eyes go even wider.

She’s a patient from Hell, she imagined. But Healers liked a challenge, didn’t they?

---

November 3 - 4 years after

The day spent with his sons is miserable. He sits with them all day, talking to them while they’re awake and running his hands down their backs while they sleep. Nicky seems to be doing a little better towards the late afternoon, and sits up to have soup, but Ollie barely takes the water Cassian makes him drink.

He’s beyond relieved when Nesta and Ava come home.

Ava rushes up the stairs ahead of Nesta. “We’re going to flying lessons now, Appa,” she sing-songs. “We’re going now, we’re going now, we’re going now.”

"Hi, angels,” Nesta says, coming into the room and sitting by Nicky. “How are you feeling?” she asks him, putting a hand on his forehead.

“Better,” he says, but his voice is still so weak.

Nesta kisses the top of his head and hugs him. “What about a bath? Would that make you feel better.”

He shrugs into her.

“I think it would,” she says, standing up. “How’s Ollie?”

“Sleeping, mostly.”

“Poor angel,” she sighs. “All right, you go on to flying lessons. Have fun, Avery. Say hello to Madam Sabina for me.”

“Bye-bye, Nicky! Bye-bye, Mummy! Let’s go now, Appa!”

Ava takes his hand and starts dragging him towards the door. “Bye,” he says over his shoulder. “We’ll come back soon.”

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go now!”

Ava keeps up variations of her chant until they arrive at one of the parks where flying lessons commence. The children all look to be around her age, accompanied by a parent or two. They’re all various types of lesser fae, none of the likes of which he’s seen in the Night Court.

Madam Sabina is a round, pink female with large, feathery wings.

“Hello,” he says, introducing himself. “I’m here with Ava.”

“You’re her father?”

“Yes. Nesta’s at home. With the boys. They’re sick.”

“Ah, flu’s going around. All right, then. Normally I fly with the triplets, but good. You’ll do it. Wonderful. Are you excited to fly with your Daddy, Ava?”

“He’s my Appa,” she says. And then she starts singing again, “We’re at flying lessons now, we’re at flying lessons now.”

Madam Sabina shrugs. “Excited enough, I guess. All right, students!” she cries, clapping her hands. Let’s all gather around in a circle--mummies, daddies, uncles, let’s get behind them. Let’s start our stretching exercises.”

"Hi,” says the female next to him in the parents’ circle. “I’m Nuray, Zehra’s mother. I’m a friend of Nesta’s. You’re the triplets’ father, right?”

He nods. “Cassian,” he says.

“Nicky looks so much like you,” she says. “Where are the boys?”

“They’re sick,” he says, wondering how many friends Nesta has here, or if everyone who has a child in the same age group counts as a friend. “The flu.”

“Oh,” she says, clucking. “Poor dears. Well, it’s going around. Nice that Nesta’s got you here now, to help out. Especially with Zeyn gone.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, struggling to maintain a casual tone. “Good stretching, Ava,” he says to her.

“All right, now, let’s just flap our wings. Just like that. No, Fidan, not too fast! We’re just flapping, we’re not flying! All right, good!”

Ava grins up at him. “I already know how to fly,” she tells him.

“Oh, do you?”

“I’m so good at it.”

“I bet you are.”

“We’re not allowed to fly until Madam Sabina says it’s okay.”

“That’s right.”

“Because we have to stretch first because it’s very important.”

“It is very important, you’re right.”

“And, now we’re going to run all the way over there and then back again, all right? Go!”

Ava shoots off as fast as she can, making him laugh in delight. He feels a rush of gratitude towards Nesta for giving them such a beautiful, quiet place to learn to fly.

"I think it’s great that you’ve moved back in,” Nuray says. “In a town like this, people talk, but they’re good. People talked when my wife and I separated, but now we’re back, and people stop talking, you know?”

"Er,” Cassian says. “We’re not--I mean, I’m not--I don’t...live...here.”

“Oh!” Nuray brings a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry! I just...assumed. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s all right,” he says, eyes darting around. This is so--weird. Sugar Valley is so weird. People he doesn’t even know congratulating him on moving back in with Nesta. No one here knows who he is. No one here has served in any military. He’s not even sure Gilameyva has a military. It’s so detached from Prythian, so different.

“Well, at any rate...I think it’s great that you’re stepping up.”

“Thanks.” Is this a normal conversation?

Thankfully, Ava comes back then.

“All right, everyone,” Madam Sabina announces. “Pair up, pair up. We’re going to go up! Stand by your partner!”

Ava stands in front of Cassian, beaming up at him.

“Okay, just high enough to their heads. Now...up!”

Ava kicks herself off the ground--it isn’t graceful in the least, but he’s so proud, prouder than he’s ever been in his life.

“And now we’re all going to do a lap around the park together. No higher than six feet, parents! And uncle!”

Ava takes his hand as they fly together. He’s going abnormally slow, but he doesn’t care at all.

---

Chapter Twelve

#acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #nessian fanfiction #nessian #nesta archeron #like pristine glass #lizo writes #wow tumblr was super annoying putting this up #like more annoying than usual #anyway my frustration with the publishing world sort of bled into this chapter!!#really hope if you have any thoughts on this one you let me know #because i sort of bled into it!!#like this one was a lot #and i've been waiting to write and share it for a long time

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