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tothedarkdarkseas · 3 years

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The way Vampire AU has taken off has really warmed my heart! So many great thoughts all round. I sent you some elaborations on my own personal headcanons for it as a submission, just for the fun of it. Enjoy!

Hi! I got your submission last night and read over it-- it's very elaborate, you've clearly put a lot of thought into fleshing this AU out and it sounds like a ton of fun. I know you mentioned at the end that you had no intentions of writing it because you're busy with other fandom projects, but I'm sure there are many who'd be interested in reading your ideas if you ever decided to make a sideblog for it. I'll post your submission for others to read below a cut here so that the post won't be too long on the dashboard, and I'll reply to some of the specifics underneath!

Yes! I have so many more thoughts on a vampire AU, I figured it would be easier to put them in a submission. Hope you don't mind.

The concept is just so fascinating to me, because so much of it lines up perfectly with the character dynamics we're given in the canon, and what doesn't has the potential to expand on and explore those dynamics in a really interesting way.

I agree 100 percent about the tone it would have to be written in. An actual brooding, dark prince Murdoc type of thing wouldn't work for me. (Murdoc would try to play up that persona, but in reality, he'd be far from it.) In my mind, the tone would be half What We Do In The Shadows and half Being Human UK. Four misfits living in a mouldering mansion somewhere, getting on each other's tits - but deep down they've got each other's backs. There's a bond, even if they can't quite explain what it is.

In my mind the bloodlust would function as an addiction. Murdoc is no Mother Theresa but he's not comfortable with indiscriminate murder either. (Guilt and self-loathing is not a good combination in Murdoc.) Knowing there is no in between for vampires - you can't have a sip here and there, it's abstinence or nightly slaughter - he stays teetotal from blood and tries to channel his desires into other addictions instead. Any and every addiction, really. Drugs, booze, sex, theft, you name it. Which is how he comes to be doing donuts in a stolen car in a Tesco car park, at the exact same time Stuart Pot is making a midnight run for condoms and Tango.

I picture Murdoc's turning of Stu would be this confusing moment that even he can't fully explain, so he's always switching his story about it. One day he'll say he didn't want to deal with the police, another day it'll be vampire enforcers he was afraid of - "total killjoys, they'll bung you in a blood-filled coffin for a hundred years over the TINIEST infraction". Other days he comes close to admitting he felt guilty, that he flipped out over the idea of killing someone after all, when he's dedicating all his energy to avoiding doing just that. Sometimes he just calls it a moment of madness.

But in every vampire movie, there's that moment. The moment where the newly-turned vamp rises from the grave as this beautiful unearthly creature of the night, and I mean . . . this absolutely would be Murdoc's experience of it. He's almost convinced himself there aren't real vampires like that, that it's all Hollywood bollocks, and then Stu rises up in front of him like some black-eyed, blue-haired god, and the part of Murdoc that isn't utterly gobsmacked by it can't help resenting the little sod for making it look so easy. Murdoc likes to take the piss out of him and claim he's like one of those Lost Boys California pretty boy vampires, but he's jealous really.

I imagine Murdoc would be similarly mercurial about how he was turned. There's always some hyperbolic story about it, designed to paint Murdoc in the best light. Sometimes he was the premier occultist of his day. Sometimes he sold his soul to the devil for immortality. Sometimes he was turned by a beautiful vampire seductress, who was bitter he broke her heart. It's all bollocks. The truth is definitely something less glamorous, and I would imagine actually much sadder as well? I'm not sure what, but I'm picturing something like Murdoc's father being some small-time occultist who sold his son to vampires, or maybe Murdoc was working some menial job and was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was turned by some vampire who would have drunk him dry, if Murdoc hadn't fought him off. Or maybe it's a bit of mystery, like the mystery of his mother in canon. Someone did this to Murdoc, someone made him what he is, but he has no memory of it. And all the different stories are actually partly a coping mechanism for that, as he tries on different explanations for size. (It would also explain why he would refuse to abandon Stu after turning him. Because navigating this new reality alone is something he wouldn't wish on anyone, even some dumb kid.)

I think the supernatural element would also be a great way to expand on and deepen Murdoc's relationships with Russell and Noodle. In supernatural fiction there are always two types of beings that hate each other. Usually vampires and werewolves, but often vampires and ghosts too. As, obviously, vamps can't drain ghosts, and they spend their lives running from the guilt of all the people they've killed. Ghosts are a constant reminder of that - and of the afterlife they both fear, and resent that they were denied. I can picture Russell maybe helping Murdoc exorcise the ghost of Hannibal or Jacob, and that's how they meet. (And why he has more patience with Murdoc than most. He's seen him at his most vulnerable.) Noodle would be great as a vampire hunter too. Her dynamic with Murdoc would be fraught as on the one hand, she respects Russell and venerates him for his connection to the spirit world, so to a certain extent anything he says she'll try to respect. And Murdoc is supposedly reformed, and she has moments where she even almost quite likes him. But her instinct is not to trust him. Her instinct is to put him down, and they both know it. As much as he battles his bloodlust around her, she battles her urge to put a stake through his heart, Van Helsing style.

Finding out he turned someone would be a MAJOR ruck in their relationship. But I think Murdoc would use 2-D to convince her and Russell to stick around - because he turned him, but it wasn't like he was chowing down on the lad, it was practically an act of charity, really. Practically an act of atonement. And if they both leave now, Stu is only left with Mr Bad Influence Murdoc Niccals, to teach him how to be a vampire, and restrain his urges and whatnot. And Murdoc has never been much good at all that AA, 12 step stuff, so unless they WANT poor sweet Stuart Pot to wind up spending eternity as some kind of crackhead . . . it would be a kindness to him, really, to stick around.

I could not agree more about how Murdoc turning Stu would mirror their Phase Two dynamic, with Stu literally having become "the thing Murdoc turned him into", and resenting that. But also, having moments of perverse gratitude for it? Stu is vain, and vampire Stu would be gorgeous, which I reckon he'd love. And though I think he'd hate that his normal life of footy with the boys and Sunday dinner at his mum's was over, I can also imagine him feeling this whole new world has opened up in front of him, something most people aren't special enough to gain entry to. And he likes that.

I can even see the fame thing and the band happening. Music would be a great, healthier way to channel the urges he can't act on. And I can see Murdoc agreeing. Admitting that he's been playing in bands for years, because it's actually a great cover for a vampire lifestyle. Being nocturnal is practically a prerequisite, when you're a rock star, and you can get away with looking all kinds of weird when you're in a band, because people just chalk it up to the aesthetic. Still, until he met 2-D, none of the bands he'd been in were actually any GOOD. 2-D reawakens his love of music, the same way he is the turning point for Murdoc's career in the canon.

Vampirism would also be a great way to explore Stuart's flaws. His vanity is an obvious one, but I can also see him avoiding his family and not letting them know why he'd disappeared for years. Just too self-absorbed to appreciate the harm it's caused. I can also see the pill problem happening as he imitates Murdoc's habit of abusing substances to try and blunt his bloodlust. I can imagine him saying stupid stuff like "you never even took me to the hospital!" and convincing himself he experiences phantom headaches, because he doesn't want to admit he's becoming just like Murdoc, actually. He tells himself the pills are medicine and he really needs them, and it's not the same at all.

And I can see him getting too carried away with his lusts, and having several near misses or disastrous incidents where he brings girls home and loses control of himself. Where Murdoc jumps in and saves it from getting too out of hand, but at the same time exposes how he's basically been stalking Stu "for your own protection", with a side of decidedly voyeuristic intentions. Stu has . . . strong (and somewhat confused) feelings about this.

I think Murdoc would be the same trouble magnet in the vampire underworld that he was in the criminal one. Feelings about Murdoc range from "this unwashed oik should NEVER have been allowed to become one of us" to "I WILL STAKE MURDOC FAUST NICCALS IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO". Murdoc would definitely continue his streak of petty crime any time he entered the hallowed halls of the vampire hoi poloi. He'd be pilfering left and right. And I can't imagine he'd ever kowtow to the aristocracy, which, in a subculture as obsessed with class as vampires . . . yeah, he's insolent, to say the least. And they hate it. They just hate Murdoc, generally. I imagine 2-D might consider crossing over to the dark side to join them, to spite Murdoc, before eventually he realizes that - amazing as it sounds - even Murdoc has higher moral standards than these people. Maybe he's better off with the devil he knows.

I love what you said about Murdoc and Stuart being hung by the same rope, for all eternity. That's exactly the dynamic I think a vampire AU would bring about. I also think Murdoc being Stu's vampire sire would be interesting in the romantic sense, as part of them would always second guess if that was the reason for the bond they feel. Are they developing feelings, or is all of this just the blood bond? I can imagine Stuart hating his own inability to judge why he feels so drawn to Murdoc, and I can see Murdoc trying to convince himself any possessiveness or pride or protectiveness he feels over Stu is just what all vampires feel when they turn someone. (Even though it's not.) It would be a potent brew.

Anyway, this was long but I will never have the time to actually write this (I have five WIPs in other fandoms already) so I thought I'd let it out somehow. Thanks for giving me the space to talk this over!

(If anyone wants to run with this and make something of it, by the way, have at it! Just credit me somewhere for the idea. That'd be good.)

This was quite a ride! I love the idea of Stuart Pot's mortal life ending when he's mowed down in a Tesco car park buying condoms and Tango. It's cruel to say it's what he deserves and frankly the complete antithesis of the whole conflict I'm begging for, but... it's what he deserves. I'm also very intrigued by the angle of treating bloodlust as an addiction: it could theoretically be overcome, but practically speaking, rarely is. This makes it easy to see how Murdoc spins off into such a cartoonishly extreme life of debauchery. I love the bit about Murdoc changing his story of what happened, both the night he hit Stuart and his own origin-- the difference being that Stu does know what happened to him, whether he ever chooses to believe Murdoc's ever-shifting justifications for it or not, but no one can ever really know where Murdoc came from except himself. I definitely agree that the truth has to be less glamorous, less thrilling, less worthy of tales and legends. I like Stuart and Murdoc best when they are not men born into greatness nor men born for greatness, not inherently, and I love the private grappling with the belief that they are special and the fear that they probably aren't. Your explanation of the foil-like dynamic between vampires and spirits/ghosts is interesting, I don't know if that's an established piece of vampire lore or if that's your own invention, but I think it's a really solid one. I don't know if I've truly seen those two creatures explored in a world together with such a direct emphasis on that ghoulish ecosystem, so to speak.

And, well, I'm quite predictable but I'm ready to invest $5k in a full novel exploring Stu's estrangement from his family and friends following the transformation, the psychological toll it takes to choose-- though he may feel he has no other choice at all-- to abandon those relationships, how his own descent may mirror Murdoc's as he shelters himself in chalk-tablet excess and a vibrant, at times frightful carnal life to distract himself from the guilt. I'm dying to see how he could approach mending those fences again after years away. It isn't something one sweeps under the rug, isn't something that he can make amends for. This sort of thing shatters a family, and in my imagining of Rachel and David, it certainly shattered his. This kind of permanently-marred family drama really captivates me and is something I don't think we should shy away from in stories about addiction, and it would be fascinating to explore the human element of that against the metaphorical monstrous one.

I love what you mentioned about the "blood bond" and how it factors into the pull between them they're too unsettled to really name. This adds an extra layer of confusion, as you say, and better justifies why they find themselves orbiting each other, pretending there's a blood-coloured chain tethering them and ignoring the heavy weighted padlock in the middle that pulls them down, down, down. I've spoken a lot on this blog about why Stu is participatory in the relationship when he dislikes Murdoc in such a profound way, and while I absolutely never tire of the messy, bleak human weakness and ego of that, it would be quite special to explore that with something that almost feels like an excuse for Stu, a macabre justification entirely out of his hands; it gives him permission to be part of this broken spiral and absolves him of the responsibility of acknowledging his choice. I'd like to think he still lives with it, as Murdoc does too, but they may appreciate the safety of the smokescreen as much as they struggle to see through it.

Thanks for sending me your ideas, I hope other readers will enjoy seeing your elaborations, and if you're having fun thinking about these two goons I'd encourage you to consider making a blog. Sometimes you get lucky and draw in people who are incredibly kind!

(Lastly, unrelated fun fact about vampirism in my life: my first job was playing a vampire at a haunted amusement park. Our "Scare Zone" was designed as a junkyard taken over by a vampire gang, and I was the "queen" with a throne made of old tires. It was... a fun job and also not a fun job, haha.)

#anon au #thank you!

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silverislander · 3 years

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check in tag

oh man i got tagged by a few people let’s see,, @dinasknifewife @souncivilized17 @angelknive ... i think that’s it?? lmk if i forgot ya tho

why did you choose your url?

ok so i’ve mentioned this a lot actually! silver bc i have a long-standing run of winning second place in competitions and such- i never seem to win first or third, but if i win anything it'll be second place. it's really strange lol. and islander bc i am one :)

any side blogs? if you have them: name them and why you have them

none! i just live here :) i felt like if i started making sideblogs i would be trying to act differently on each to fit in, and that’s the last thing i wanted (and i think i would’ve been right, too. people pleasing tendencies suck, kids)

How long have you been on tumblr?

june 2019 i think?? i didn’t post for a month tho lol, just lurked

do you have a queue tag?

no, i actually don’t use the queue. if i’m here i’m here, i... don’t fully understand the function tbh lol. i only use it if i’m nervous to post smth so i don’t have the pressure of hitting post 😂

why did you start your blog in the first place?

mostly, i was bored! i used to be super active on pinterest ( :/ i know) but it was getting boring FAST and i wanted to be where it seemed like fandom was really happening, which was tumblr... i had no idea people considered the site half dead at the time lmao

i’ve mentioned on here before that i have major trouble talking about my interests/passions/hyperfixations w people irl for fear that they’ll judge me, but here i have some level of anonymity, time to think abt my responses and a way to talk to people that’s way easier for me than face to face :D so i’ve found some actual friends here and that’s super cool!! fandom-wise, i was super into tua at the time, but my very first original post talks abt liking tlou, musicals and horror movies so i suppose i was there for those too even back then

why did you choose your icon?

i think dina’s so cute did you guys know that 😳🥺 this pic matches my header and it’s a nice shot of her!

why did you choose your header?

i made special it just for pride! it’s a quote from fun home, one of my fav musicals :’D i cry everytime,, if you’re a lesbian and you haven’t listened to at LEAST “ring of keys”, would highly recommend (if you’re down to cry So Much then watch all the way through the show but don’t expect a happy ending, it’s based on alison bechdel’s real life)

how many mutuals do you have?

no idea, i don’t know how to count them lol. tbh i’ll probably assume we’re mutuals unless proven otherwise by some hidden tungle feature/glitch

how many followers do you have?

381!! hi everyone

how many people do you follow?

470!

have you ever made a shit post?

lmao yeah. this one is one of my personal favourites. i am so funney

how often do you use tumblr each day?

... ok so i have a personally set Rule that i can use tumblr a max of 3 times a day at specific times a day (to combat executive dysfunction/getting locked in and being unable to do anything else, which is v common w me). however. i do not have a rule on how long i can stay on it as long it doesn’t interfere w like leaving the house or basic life tasks. if left alone i regularly scroll all the way to the point i started scrolling the last time i was on the app. do w this information what you will

did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

uhh not that i remember! i don’t see a point in arguing when you can just block, and besides i’m terrified of conflict lmao

how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

if they have genuinely good info that i haven’t seen elsewhere i’ll rb them but i won’t be happy abt it. otherwise i don’t even give them a like. come on, don’t fuckin guilt trip people into notes, that’s just mean

do you like tag games?

yeah they’re fun! it takes me a long time to respond bc i like to think abt my answers (which usually leads me to forgetting abt them for weeks), but i like them anyways

do you like ask games?

yes definitely!! really i just like talkin abt myself/things i do and interacting w yall lmao

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

thankfully we’re a really small fandom here so. nobody lol. it’s better this way- no drama!

do you have a crush on a mutual?

no lol, i KNOW yall must be even a little different offline and besides, i’ve only seen some people’s faces before! i def wanna be friends w you, but not a romantic relationship for me, thanks

i don't think i'll tag anyone since i'm p sure we've almost all been tagged by now, but if you want you could do this and just say you tagged me. it's ok i won't tell ;)

#levi.txt #this was fun thanks guys #tag game

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ladynestaarcheron · 5 years

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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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psycheswritings · 5 years

Text

Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Six

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4022

Author's Note: Hello, people! Here we are with a brand new chapter. A few warnings before we begin (or after, because is basically information about somethings mentioned during this chapter and it could be interpreted as spoilers, so it's up to you): 1. I know that according to the audio of "The Ballad of Tommy Shelby" the boys enlisted in 1915, but as @andtherewerefireworks pointed out, this doesn't fit with the historical facts and informations given by the show (as a lot of other thing's don't, but apparently Steven doesn't give a fuck about it - don't let me get started) so I ignored this piece of information - the boys enlisted in 1914 instead and the world makes sense again; 2. I did some research to know more about military nurses and took a poetic license to ignore the age that was permited for women to enlist at the time; 3. Kugel really is a Jewish dish and I am shamelessly entertaining my headcanon that Alfie does, in fact, cook/bake. Sorry, not sorry. 4. Have I mentioned that sometimes I hate Steven? Because I do. There were somethings that took me a lot of time to figure out between episodes 04 and 05 of the third season and I am still not sure about somethings, so if you feel confused about something you're more than welcome to come talk to me and I can explain it.

Fair warning, as always, if you find any mistakes feel more than free to report back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter; and your feedback is always appreciated (given the fact that this is a sideblog, answers always are in the name of my main one thanks to dumb Tumblr - @myplaceofheavenorhell). Also, if you haven't read my "BIG ANNOUNCEMENT" post (I really don't blame you), please, start following me on @amysteryspot.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Summary: Alfie and Sabini make amends and join forces to get rid of the Peaky Blinders. Daphne and Polly have a very pleasing evening and Tommy goes visit May to ensure that things are going according to his plan, only to be met with a question he doesn't want to answer.

Masterlist

Six

Alfie Solomons was never known for a man who has a lot of patience, no, people tend to think that he actually has none at all but that is far from the truth. God knows that he had to have a lot of fucking patience to get where he is now, Alfie is a man who is always waiting for the right moment to do the things that would benefit him the most. And that was what he was doing right now - waiting to see if the decision he has made would, in fact, bring him any good.

The doors of the bakery were opened by two of his men and Sabini came into view - the italian flag on his hands, three of his men behind him and his second in command, Matteo, with a white flag by his side. They approached each other, the Jew gave the Italian the basket of bread that was immediately passed over to Matteo, before he stepped closer to Alfie giving him the standard three kisses on the checks as a form of greeting.

“I can’t help but notice that there is a presence in absence here today. Isn’t Miss Scott joining us?” Alfie was kinda expecting that since the Italian seemed to have a soft spot for the young woman, but the question almost made him frown for entirely different reasons. Daphne had left hours before to go to Birmingham and meet with Polly Gray, she didn’t knew about the meeting or his plans but somehow that didn’t make Alfie worry less about her like he thought it would.

“Daphne is out in another appointment. Just us today, so let's talk, eh?” Sabini shared a look with Matteo before nodding to Alfie guide them through the bakery. The Jew sat on one side of the table with Ollie by his side, cane propped up in front of him, his hands resting on top of it, while Sabini and Matteo did the same at the other side, their men behind them and a menacing silence filling the room until the Italian leader spoke.

“Did you know they was going to take the Eden club?”

“I know about the Eden club, yes.”

“Did you know they were going to do it before they did it? Because that's the one who's in charge, isn't it? The one who knows before it happens.”

“I know what I know, you know. If you don't know, then you don't fucking know, do you?”

“Did you know they was going to take Wimbledon dogs? Harringay? The trotting tracks?”

“Talk, all right? I genuinely want to hear you.”

“You've lost control, Alfie.” Matteo was the one to talk, making Alfie look at him in concealed anger.

“Have I?”

“Everybody knows.” The Italian added.

“Talk to me, Alfie.” Sabini said, interrupting the argument and making Alfie’s attention go back to him again.

“Talk to you?” The Jew paused for emphasis. “All right, I'll talk to you. I'll fucking tell you how it was, right? What happened was this. All the time you were talking about dirty fucking Jews. All the fucking time - dirty fucking Jews, dirty Kikes, dirty dustbin lids…” The Italian leader shared a look with Matteo again.

“Everyone makes jokes.”

“You want to talk about not getting into places?”

“Everybody makes fucking jokes. I didn't know you had no sense of humour!”

“And I ain't going to FUCKING mention, right, the great big fuck off elephant in the room.” Sabini closes his eyes for a brief moment before talking again.

“Look, Alfie…”

“How many of my bookies worked Epsom this last May? None. None. Not one.”

“So, for a few fucking jokes and Epsom, you fucking invite a tribe of savages into the city and just fucking unlock the fucking gates!” While Sabini is yeeling and gesticulating frantically with his hands Alfie is just sitting there, not even bored by it.

“I'm sorry, what are you saying, mate?”

“I'm saying I'm sorry about the Jew thing.” To say that Sabini seemed bothered by his own words would be an understatement because he was completely put off by it, to Alfie’s deepest contentment.

“Are you saying you're sorry?” Patience, patience always paid back in kind.

“Yeah.”

“You're sorry about the Jew thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I want that in writing.” He turned to Ollie. Write that down. He said, ‘I'm sorry’.” Looking at Sabini again he continued. “And also write down that all our bookies can go back to Epsom.”

“He didn't say that.” Matteo barged in.

“Who's asking you?”

“No. Write it down. It's all right. Come on. Alfie's an old friend.”

“My friend.” The Jew gangster says while staring at Matteo and pointing at Sabini.

“Now, admit it, the Peaky Blinders is out of control.”

“Yeah, they're out of fucking control, mate. They come down the canal, they spread like the fucking clap.” Although the kind of problem that the Blinders have gotten to the Jew were ones fairly different, the Italian didn’t needed to know.

“Right. So now they're everybody's problem.”

“Yeah.”

“Alfie.”

“Mm.”

“You and me, we've been fighting since we was at school.”

“Yeah.”

“All right? Now, also, we've been friends.”

“Mm, yeah.”

“You know, it goes backwards and forwards. How much better is it when we're friends?”

“Oh, it's much better, mate, yeah.”

“You write that down.” Ollie looks at Alfie that just nods at the younger man.

“So what we're doing here, right, is we're writing down some kind of a deal thing, right?”

“Yeah, a written deal.”

“Written deal, good. Well, why don't we discuss the border between the Italians and the Jews going back to Farringdon Road.”

“Farringdon Road”

“Yeah, Farringdon Road.”

“Fuck! That's ancient history.”

“Write down Farringdon Road.”

“No, no, no, write down Camden Road.”

“Farringdon Road.”

“Camden Road.”

“Write down Farringdon.”

“Camden.”

“Farringdon.”

“Camden. Write down Camden Road.”

“Just write down ‘peace’. Just write down ‘peace’, right, between the Jews and the Italians.”

“And war against the gypsies.” Alfie just grumbles to the statement, thinking to himself about how Daphne will react when she discovers his plans. It certainly won’t be pretty and for the first time in a long while the Jew gangster starts to rethink his actions.

*******************************************************************************************

Daphne was waiting at the parlour in the Shelby family home on Watery Lane, the youngest Shelby was the one who guided her there saying that his aunt was coming in a minute and then leaving her alone since Josiah had chosen to wait for her outside, in the car. The young woman took off her coat and hang it on the coat rack on the wall just beside the front door, deciding to take a look around instead of sitting down.

There were a lot of photographs hanging on the walls and on top of the furniture, most of them were of the Shelby’s children growing up. Daphne recognized a young Ada and a little Finn in one of them, just beside the fireplace there was a photograph of each one of the Shelby siblings but what caught her attention almost immediately was the portrait of the three eldest Shelby boys in their uniforms. Her fingers automatically went to her locket, caressing the metal as a way to soothe her own thoughts.

“They were taken just before they left.” She must have been really distracted because she only noticed that her hostess arrived when she was already closing the door, taking off her own coat and approaching her. The gipsy woman noticed that Daphne was yet again playing with the necklace hanging from her neck. They shook hands before the both of them turned to look at the images again. “I’m sorry for making you wait, there were things that needed my attention.”

“Don’t bother, I’ve had only been here for minute.” Silence filled the room but unlike what Daphne expected it wasn’t a discomfortable one.

“It feels like it was a lifetime ago.” There was this hint of sadness that Daphne knew too well when people who had loved ones on the war usually had when talking about that period.

“And at the same time it seems like it was yesterday.” Polly looked at her then, surprise in her features.

“You’ve been there.” Daphne took a deep breath, not looking at the woman beside her when she spoke.

“Yeah. Whole four years of it.”

“My God, you must have been only a child when it started.” The young woman felt quite amused by the motherly concern in Polly’s voice.

“Eighteen.”

“You’re almost John’s age then. He was nineteen when he left. Arthur was twenty seven and Thomas twenty four.” When Daphne looked at her still observing the pictures there was a hint of a smile on her face. “They were so different, so full of life.”

“None of us came back the same. We all left a part of ourselves there.” As her hand rested in her chest, feeling the all too familiar form of her locket through the fabric Daphne thought that she certainly had lost a part of herself there, a part of her that she would never recover.

“You sound like Tommy.” Daphne smiled at that, shaking her head briefly while Polly observed her with a mixture of admiration and curiosity.

“It’s not the first time that I hear it.”

“Come, I will make us some tea.” They headed themselves to the kitchen were Daphne sat at the table while Polly walked around preparing things for the tea. When the pot was ready she served them both a cup and sat down.

“You’ve caused quite the impression on the boys.” Daphne quietly sipped on her tea. She didn’t know what to expect of the encounter, what she did knew was that Polly was baiting at her, getting her out of her comfort zone to see how she reacted and further analyze her especially now that Alfie wasn’t around. But one thing that Daphne have learned from experience was that people involuntary let their guard down at home and even knowing that Polly had another house to call her own now, this was the one she passed most part of the time in still, the one where she lived most part of the last years and the one she still called home.

“A good impression, I hope.” The gipsy woman looked at her, smirking slightly, the action a little warmer than the cold demeanor that she had showed on the party.

“Ah, it was good just alright! I think Arthur is still teasing John for trying to flirt with you.”

“He had it coming.” Polly laughed, really laughed and Daphne couldn’t help but smile too.

“He sure did, but I gotta say that he is not used at being rejected. None of them are, really.” The young woman choose not to answer that, just smiling and sipping at her tea again and Polly decided to change the subject. “You and Ada know each other for long?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Before Freddie fell ill.”

“You’ve met him?” Polly was surprised that the two women knew each other for that long.

“Once or twice, he was more running from the coopers than at home.” Polly scoffed at that, getting up to take the food and put it on the table. “You didn’t approved of them.” It wasn’t a question but Polly answered anyway.

“Freddie was a good man, I just wish that he knew how to prioritize his family instead of the cause.” Daphne nodded in understanding, since she befriended Ada she had had quite some debates with herself about the way the Thorne’s lived. It was hard for Daphne to understand how Ada accepted living on the run because of love, her parents were not exactly the image of true love - an arranged marriage, like the one she was supposed to have if she hadn’t gone to France - even though she believed that her mother had loved her father at some point, the other way around was definitely not true.

“I never really understood how Ada accepted living like that but I don’t have much to compare so I tried not to judge her for it.”

“No lad caught your attention after you came back?” The gipsy woman took a sip of her tea before continuing. “Or during your time in France?” Daphne had a pretty good guess that she must be talking about William since she had seen them together at the party.

“No. Not that way.” The older woman just nodded, eyes trained on the other woman’s reactions.

“Not even Solomons? He is not hard on the eyes and you two seemed quite close.” Daphne laughed at the statement - people seemed to never give up on the subject of her and Alfie being a couple.

“Alfie is family.” The way she said it, so naturally, so devoid of doubt made Polly think that their bound was deeper than she first predicted. Polly was certain that there was more to their relationship than what they let people know - Alfie Solomons wasn’t a man known for his honesty or loyalty, nevertheless, the woman in front of her had been by his side since the end of the war.

It was obvious to her too that the man who was observing her and Tommy from the mezzanine during the party felt more than just friendship towards her but it seemed that Daphne didn’t reciprocate it - which, apparently, left the way clear for Tommy and that’s where the lived the danger. Then she decided to make a bold move.

“Let me read your leaves.” Daphne was quite taken aback by the request, she blinked twice before answering the gipsy woman.

“Why not.” Polly was surprised that she accepted the request so easily - maybe more surprised by that than by the fact that she had requested to read the girl’s leaves in the first place.

“Pour some tea into the cup and swirl it.” The young woman did what she was told. “Now put the tea back into the teapot.” Polly extended her hand for Daphne to give her the cup, after taking it she gave one last glance towards the young woman before starting to analyze the cup.

“There’s happiness in your future but there is also a lot of pain.” Silence filled the room while the older woman swirled the teacup in her hands. “You will be betrayed and have your heart broken. You will also find something that you thought was lost.” Polly rested the cup into the table and looked up to meet Daphne’s hazel eyes in silence for a long time before she finally spoke again. “You seem like a good girl, Daphne, and if I didn’t thought that I wouldn’t say to you what I’m gonna say now: be careful. Love is a good thing but sometimes it can blind us and that’s when we get hurt.”

*******************************************************************************************

When Tommy arrived home at the end of the day one of the first things that he noticed was the teacup resting on the kitchen table. He picked it up, looking at the leaves inside it and directing his gaze to his aunt who was observing him, sipping her own cup of tea while leaning onto the kitchen counter.

“Lizzie’s been here for you to read her leaves again, Poll? You still leading her own…”

“It wasn’t Lizzie.” He recognized the smug look on his aunt’s face - she was leading him to something, the teacup left onto the table was a bait for him to talk to her, it was all part of her plan. He put the cup back where he found it and turned around to pour himself a drink.

“Then who was the poor soul that was believing in your predictions?”

“Daphne. She left just some minutes ago.” He stopped for a brief moment but it was enough for Polly to notice. Daphne had been here? How he didn’t know that?

“Didn’t think that she would be one for these kind of stuff.” He turned around, glass of whisky in his hand and her aunt’s gaze still on him and his curiosity got the best of him. “What did you find out?” By the smile on his aunt’s face he knew that this is what she wanted all along.

“That she is a good girl - too good for you.” Tommy huffed at the statement taking a sip of his drink - he didn’t need any tea leaves to know that. “She will have her heart broken by the man that she loves.” Polly walked to her nephew, stopping right in front of him and holding his gaze. “Will you be that man, Tommy?” He just stood there nursing his drink, long before the woman had left. He had vowed to himself to never let another woman into his heart again, not after Grace, but it was difficult to remember that when he was around Daphne. She was constantly proving him wrong, challenging him, sneaking into his family’s good graces. Would he be the one to break her heart or would it be the other way around?

*******************************************************************************************

Alfie was waiting for her when she arrived home - sitting on his usual chair in the balcony of the drawing room, humming something to himself. Daphne approached him and called his name but he didn’t seemed to notice, to lost on his thoughts.

“Everything alright?” He looked at her then, his attention caught by the hand she gently placed on his shoulder, the woman could tell that he seemed a little off just by the expression on his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” The Jew got up from his chair to stand in front of her. “How was tea with the gypsies?”

“It was just Polly. Everything went fine, she is actually very hospitable.”

“Hum. Good.” He didn’t seemed less tense after her answer. “I’ve made you some kugel for dessert, I know it is your favorite.” Daphne frowned at that.

“There is some special occasion that I’m forgetting? You haven’t cooked in ages.” He stared at her in silence for a long moment before answering.

“No, just appreciating the company, love.”

“Well, thank you, kind sir. I’m just going to take a bath and we can have dinner then.” Alfie nodded at her, letting her go upstairs while he just observed as she disappeared. He really hoped that at least for one time in his life he was doing the right thing.

*******************************************************************************************

As Tommy drove to the Carleton’s property he thought about his next steps. May had showed her interest in him and he was going to play his cards to ensure that his horse would be able to run the Epsom. She had also mentioned having contacts at the War Office and that could grant them information on Daphne. He just wasn’t expecting the extent of the Carleton’s wealthiness.

“Mr. Thomas Shelby, madam.” One of the maids announced him and Tommy entered the room without a second glance at the girl.

“Nice house.” He says as he looks around and approaches May, who is looking at him a little unsure. It was more than nice house, probably the most expensive fucking place he had put his foot on during his entire life.

“Would you like a whisky? Scotch or Irish?”

“Irish.” She turns her back to him to serve the drink and he takes the time to look out the window, taking a cigarette from his case. “Sorry for the short notice. I was passing.”

“We're not quite on the Birmingham road.”

“It was a small diversion.”

“Sixty miles, I checked.”

“That's a small diversion these days.” He says, approaching her and lightening the cigarette that is already between his lips.

“So, I'm a small diversion. Good.” She hands him the whiskey before taking a sip of hers. “Your horse is still out on the gallops, but I had Mickey prepare this report. You can read it now if you'd like, then we can go see her.” May hands him the file with the reports and he rests it on the table, starting to scan the pages as he clears his throat. “Is there enough light for you to read?”

“Yes, it's fine.”

“It's getting quite late.” She sits down on the couch, Tommy doesn’t react to her words and continues to read the report but he notices that she is nervous. “Mickey says she has the lungs of an elephant. She's nimble in the heavy going, but bounces a little on the hard ground. Sorry, I'll let you read.”

“So, he thinks she'll favor good to soft ground, eh?” Tommy closes the file while talking.

“A little juice in the grass.”

“Mm. Well, that's good for Epsom.” He pauses, looking at her and placing his empty glass on the table. “Does he think she's not good enough for Epsom?”

“She needs a lot of work.” May observes as he takes a drag from the cigarette. “The race board will need convincing.”

“I imagine you have some influence.” She doesn’t answer him directly.

“Mm. That's the suggested program for the next two months.” As Tommy goes back to looking at the report, May gets up from her seat. “Your glass is empty.”

“It's fine.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, a bit.”

“I can prepare something.”

“Do you have engine oil?” There’s a hint of surprise in her features as she looks at him. “Before I set off for Birmingham, the car needs oil.”

“I'm sure my husband kept some in the garage. I can get someone to do it.”

“This evening or tomorrow?” They stare at each other for a moment, he waits for her next step.

“Well, we're so far from anywhere, people usually stay over.” She is clearly nervous as she takes a set at the couch again, sipping her whisky. “Especially before cars, when it was just carriages, people used to stay over all the time.”

“But I have a car.”

“Yes.”

“And you have engine oil.”

“Probably.” Her words are all but a whisper before she pauses, nervously looking at the other way. “But it would be very usual.”

“What would?” His eyebrows raising as he waits for the answer, making her admit it out loud.

“For a guest to stay. We have a whole wing called the guest wing.”

“Oh, you…” He almost smirked at the information. “You have a guest wing. Well...” Then Tommy notices that she is crying, silently, trying to hide her tears by facing the opposite wall. He walks to her, calling her name softly and resting a hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her. Thomas never liked when woman cried, most part of the time it put him off because he didn’t exactly know how to react and, in this particularly scenario, it wasn’t something that he had predicted. “Have a smoke.”

“Thank you.” She accepts the cigarette from his hands and observes as he takes a step back to light another, taking a sit at the other end of the couch. “Ignore this. It's actually all right. I put all his photos in a drawer and locked it, as if that was going to make a difference. I'm like a fucking lighthouse keeper, out here on my own, keeping his flame burning. But, of course, when anyone sees a lighthouse they stay clear, don't they?” May observes as he seems to take a moment to think.

“Now, do you have a map? Of the house. Do you have a map? Because I'm not going to be able to find my way in the dark. You see, at midnight, I'm going to leave my wing and I'm going to come find you. And I'm going to turn the handle of your bedroom door without making a sound and none of the maids will know.”

“You don't know maids.” She scoffed at him.

“They hear a pin drop?”

“If there's a man in the house, they listen. They take turns.”

“So, let them listen.” Things were going according to his plan but Tommy couldn’t help remembering his aunt’s words that would keep echoing inside his head for the whole night.

Taglist: @stressedandbandobessed7771

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a-shameless-otome-rp-sideblog · 5 years

Text

looking for otome-based RP partners!

Hullo (hopefully future) friends! I’ve got a bit of a weird proposal.

(For anyone who saw the first one on my OTHER-OTHER side blog, this is redux, the 2.0, because that sideblog was TOO NEW to show up in tags and I am really hoping that this one shows up on this MUCH OLDER and REPURPOSED sideblog!)

ANYWAY, here blog isn’t and probably won’t ever be an RP blog. I’ve RPed on Tumblr a lot in the past (mostly in the Homestuck community, a few years back) and while doing so was a lot of fun, it was also a lot of work! Maintaining pages, bios, graphics, etc, is all stuff I seemed to have all the time in the world for a few years back, but I find I really just don’t anymore.

Unfortunately, I don’t really know where to find RP outside of Tumblr and cherubplay (thanks again, Homestuck!) either, but Cherubplay isn’t exactly the greatest for finding anything outside of just raw-doggin-it-smut-fests and while that can be, uh, fun, it’s not really what I want to focus on when I RP.

So why am I here?

DISCORD RP!!

I’m hoping to find other people who don’t really have time to run an RP blog (or who do have time, but also might be willing to dip their toes into doing it on Discord, too, assuming you aren’t already!) for some good time plotting and roleplaying!

Which I guess brings us to the meat of this whole thing… (more, of course, under the cut!)

WHAT WILL WE RP?

I’ve been real keen on otome lately and I’m really looking to play some canon boys to your MC or OC! While I’ve certainly had my fun playing girls before (mostly in WoW, or other MMORPG settings), I find I always prefer to play dudes, and (if you’d pardon this bit of arrogance!) I think I can be pretty dang good at it!

While I do occasionally ship MxM, it’s really only something I do with my best bro, so I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m really only interested in MxF pairings atm! I hope that’s okay with everyone.

COOL, BUT WHAT SERIES? WHAT CHARACTERS?!

I’d like to say I have a pretty healthy familiarity with a lot of otome, but I’m not sure I’d be the hottest at RPing them all! If it can’t be guessed by my avatar, I’m kind of on a Hakuouki kick right now, so I’m partial to that, for sure, but for ease of readability and so you can get a good idea of what I’m open to, I’ll list them in some nicely formatted order.

Hakuouki Characters

Okita :: Okita is tied for my personal favorite Hakuouki dude with Sannan, but I think I’d enjoy playing him a lot more than Sannan (which isn’t to say I wouldn’t like to play him, too!). I’ve always been partial to smirky, tease-y boys, especially when they’re struggling with confronting their feelings.

Sannan :: Sannan speaks to my love of polite but cold characters, and it’s only a bonus that he’s a megane, which I’ve also always loved! As mentioned above, he’s probably tied with Okita as favorite Hakuouki dude, but I think Okita’d be easier to play.

Kazama :: Kazama is fun because I’ve always had a love for garbage can style kidnap-and-seduce plotlines if that was your kind of thing!

Saito :: I love Saito aesthetically and his personality is pretty rad and I’d rank him as pretty up their on faves, but I admit I don’t have overmuch experience when it comes to awkward slow-to-open-up kinda boys! I’m sure we could make it work though.

Other dudes :: I’d be willing to try honestly most anyone from Hakuouki but these are the ones above are the ones I feel most confident/interested in playing! If you’d like someone else, you can most certainly ask, especially if you have some kind of plotline you’d like to see!

===

Diabolik Lovers

Oh baby, yeah I am totally into this hot hot dumpster fire!

Reiji :: As mentioned, I love megane, and Reiji’s probs my favorite of everyone in the whole dang series. Older? Check. Smart? Check. Responsible? Check. Cold? Double check. Really fucking mean? Check. Smirky? Well, in the games, yes!

Shuu :: Sorry Reiji, but I also love Shuu. I might make him just a twinge OOC because his laziness might make advancing the plot kind of headachey, but other than tht, I love this loser.

Subaru :: Subaru, contrary to his third place on this list, is probably pretty close behind Reiji for favorites. Aggressive, ill-refined, totally willing to fight everyone – I admit I tend to play the more well-spoken and calculating kind of characters more, but I’d be willing to rock Subaru for you to the best of my ability!

Ruki :: I won’t say Ruki’s my favorite of the Mukami brothers but I like him a lot and I think I’d play him well!

Everyone else except Azusa and Kou :: Spoiler: I love Azusa to death and find him adorable but I don’t really relish playing openly masochistic characters, so he’s a no go unless we can work something out! Kou is – no offense, but I just really do not like Kou. As far as the famous Sakamaki triplets go, Kanato is one of my absolute all time favorites, and I’d be willing to play him with the right person… but we all know he’s kind of an absolute nutbag, so I’m hesitant to dump that on anyone! Ayato is a staple and Laito could be… like Kanato, I think I’d have to feel pretty assured by my partner they could handle the grosser parts of his character. Open to exploring it, however!

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Amnesia

I’m not gonna bother sectioning everyone into neat little areas cause there is so few, but Toma is my favorite (I’m a real sucker for yandere, whoops). I’d be willing to play him, of course, provided my partner was comfortable with it! I’d also be willing to do Kent (my second favorite!), Shin and maaaaaaybe Ukyo. Sorry, I didn’t really care for Ikki – not because Ikki was bad (he was actually cool!) but because fan girl route characters drive me BANANAS.

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Other fandoms :: Hit me up and ask if you want me to try anything! I might surprise you!

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AND SO THAT LEAVES US WITH… WHAT WILL YOU PLAY?

Honestly, I’m gonna be real with everyone here: I love roleplaying because it’s like writing fanfiction with someone else, so it’s all the fun and self indulgence of fanfiction, but better, cause ya know – someone else is doing it with you! And I’m really here for the self indulgence, so please go ham.

Yeah, you can play the MC of the game, and I’d be cool with that! But honestly, I love OCs, and I’d love to hear about and plot with your OCs. I have some ideas for potential plots (especially for Hakuouki), but I’m also open to your ideas, too, and I think a lot of plots could work best outside the confines of a pre-established MC. Also, you get to show me your drawings/face-claims/whatever for your characters, and that’s pretty rad!!

Also, as someone had asked when I tried to post this on my previously non-functional blog, I’m also open to crossovers! I’m cool even if I don’t know much about the character -- you’ll just have to pardon my ignorance.

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So, uh… RULES? RP STYLE? ETC? SOME POORLY ORGANIZED POINTS

+ Yeah, I’m deffo 21+ so ideally you would be too, especially if there’s anything like, remotely scandalous going on! I’m not too sure I feel very comfortable RPing with anyone younger than 18, mostly just because there’d be such a big age difference between us. Rest assured it isn’t because I think I’m better than you, or being ageist! It’s mostly just for my own sense of comfort!

+ Speaking of scandalous, I don’t push hard for anything super graphic unless that’s your style because I’m very much a person who loves drowning in the emotions of “holy crap does this guy really like this lady a lot”. I tend to be over indulgent as heck when it comes to inner monologues describing just how much your character makes mine’s heart go doki-doki, so expect a lot of that. If we start heading towards fuck-making of the graphic non-fade-to-black-variety, we should deffo discuss the sorts of things you discuss before those scenes! (Kinks? I GUESS???) But, as mentioned, it’s deffo not at all on top of my list of prerogatives. We need to BUILD for that!

+ My RP style tends to be 3rd or 2nd (lmao, Homestuck) person, present tense, a couple paragraphs to “oh my god, you can shut up now”. You can write however you like, with my only request being that you be passably literate! Not like, snootily literate. You get what I mean? I hope so. ):

+ As far as activity goes, I’m also fine with the Tumblr esque style of replying whenever you get around to it! If we both happen to be on for a barrage of replies, great! If we can only get one or two out a day, also great! I’m pretty easy going, honestly.

+ I love working in universe and also going mad with AUs. Find some cute starters or AU ideas on tumblr and you wanna throw them at me? I’m always open. From vampires where there are none to school AUs to coffee shop AUs I am willing to try most things, but note: I am primarily a fan of DRAMATIC ROMANCE so keep that in mind!

+ Want some kinda crazy love triangle where your lady is pursued by not one, BUT TWO DUDES? We can probably make it happen!

+ I run the gamut from fluffy and sweet romance to angsty yandere esque stuff, so please feel free to talk to me about what kind of dude you’d like!

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A SAMPLE OF MY STYLE:

It has been months, Okita reminds himself. It has been months, and months, and more months on top of that – almost a year, maybe a little more, even, and as he sets his teeth behind that constant wolf’s grin, he thinks to himself: You should be better than this. You should be stronger.

But for all the time he’s spent with her, it has never gotten easier. No, no – it has only ever gotten worse, and it’s particularly bad now that he’s alone with her, now that she’s so close –

“Okita-san?” Her voice rings in his ears like a few plucked notes of some delicate string instrument, and he feels his lips part, his smile all teeth. She’s paused, midway between pouring him a cup of tea, and her eyes – ever and much too familiar – meet his with a hint of shyness Okita feels guilty for relishing. “Are you okay?”

“Worried about me, mn?” He rolls his head from one shoulder to the next, halfway between a shrug and a stretch, and tries very hard to resist the urge to pull her towards him, into him, that he might catch more of the rich perfume that lingers along the line of her throat. “You shouldn’t be.”

You should, he thinks, and not without a hint of guilt, be more worried about yourself.

===

ANYWAY, IT’S LATE.

I feel like I’m missing some garbage, but I’ll probably add to this tomorrow when I inevitably remember what I forgot! If you’re interested, send me an ask or a submission or a Tumblr… DM? We can work from there with regards to exchanging contact info!

#hakuouki rp #hakuoki rp #otome rp #diabolik lovers rp #amnesia rp #ikemen sengoku rp #hakuouki #hakuoki #diabolik lovers #amnesia #ikemen sengoku #i'm sorry for all these tags i'm trying for exposure #let's be real this probably won't even work #i might have to do this on like #my main blog #or my main side blog #the horror

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mint-kook · 7 years

Text

I tagged along (wherever you are)

Hey! So I am a very new writer who decided to create a sideblog (elsearwrites) for writing. I really enjoy your fics so I would appreciate it and be honored if you took the time to read something I’ve been writing for Hoseok x Reader! It’s called I tagged along (wherever you are), and is a social media and college au where Hoseok is an instagram famous dancer and the reader is a famous youtuber. The first part is a prologue of how the reader actually became to be a youtuber, and features best friend! and frat boy!Jungkook who broke her heart. It does mention sex and alcohol, but just once and is not explicit. Word count for pt.1 is 2.4k, at least for now because it is unedited and very rough. I just wanted to show a person before I upload it to my own blog. Sorry if it’s long, you don’t have to read it all lol.

So here’s part 1/prologue: A Role Model

You ran.

All you could think about doing is running.

You didn’t really know where you were going, because your visions were blurred by your tears and your brain blurred by shattered pieces of your heart. But whatever your legs remember, took you back to your room.

And you enclosed your whole world in the bleak dark room you returned to.

Just 25 minutes ago you walked into your best friend Jungkook and a girl he was chasing after for some time having sex.

You have been hopelessly in love with him for a good decade, ever since you met each other on a playground, but knew he didn’t feel the same way about you when you watched him fall for someone else all those years. Because you were too scared to break what you already had, the strong friendship that protected you from bullies and protected him from giving up on his dreams. That tight bond you had made you hope. Hope that somewhere along those years, maybe he felt at least a possibility that something more could develop between you two. So you tried hard to be the ideal person Jungkook dreamed about. You were even a model because Jungkook half-heartedly stated that he wanted to date a model once. But when you saw his eyes soften at someone that wasn’t you, your heart betrayed you.

“Y/N! Look, you know Somin right? She’s the one in your Chem class. I think she’s cute and I used the time I waited for you to talk to her.”

“Y/N, Y/N…She’s different from all the other girls I dated. Something about her…is special. I feel like she may be the one…Pfft I sound so cheesy, this isn’t me.”

And so, you got desperate. Before he made things official, maybe you can change something. And even if chances were bleak, you couldn’t take the bottled up feelings inside you anymore. Or, that was what you thought.

“Y-Y/N!”

He panicked to cover both him and the girl, both confused and shocked at your presence, clearly someone that did not belong in the almost perfect picture.

“Uh…I-I’m so sorry.”

Ah. So they did make it official. Was in the middle of making it official.

And so you ran.

You only convinced yourself you would be okay if you were rejected.

But when you were rejected without you even saying anything, every resolve and every cell you managed to convinced screamed otherwise.

You weren’t okay.

For a couple of days, you were holed up in your room. You had no midterms, and you were that honor student that passed all her classes, and no class you had this semester were attendance mandatory. You managed to avoid the hell out of Jungkook somehow thanks to your roommate’s extremely kind cooperation (Raeun was now your new best friend, screw ex-best friend). You turned off notifications from Jungkook, effectively ignoring every message and call from him. But honestly, you couldn’t turn off your phone. It was the one thing you couldn’t do, because while you were holed up in your room, Raeun and your phone were the only things that connected you to the outside world.

And before you were to head bang on the wall regretting to even think about trying to confess to him, you decide that you need time to yourself. Time to think about you. Distract yourself from whatever may happen to something you tried hopelessly to protect.

And you find yourself in more deeper than ever in the world of social media.

Unhealthy? A little, yes. Successful in distracting you? Also, a little, yes.

That “little” comes from the frequent posts Jungkook updates on his Instagram and Snapchat and sometimes on Twitter, where he seemingly has a blast at parties his frat hosts. You had to admit, even if you told yourself you didn’t care, you were a little, well maybe a lot angry that nothing seemed to change in his carefree alcohol induced world. Were all the messages and missed calls a lie? Even if they stopped all together after a long while, you still had hoped he cared. It wasn’t until Raeun told you that he posts a severely lessened amount ever since that day, and that it’s most likely people of his fraternity controlling what he posts, that your anger subsided.

Even if you told her and yourself that you didn’t care.

“Y/N? There is some food in the fridge for you. Just in case, I’m leaving the door locked. Don’t open the door for anyone just in case, unless it’s the RA, kay?” Raeun said before leaving to take her Calculus exam.

God, why was your roommate and now-best friend such an angel? The mom friend? She even cared for you while she had a very important exam the next day. She was the guard that made sure Jungkook wasn’t going to be near you, hiding you in the closet or threatening to call the RA back when he knocked on your door and called for you for what seemed like an endless period of time.

You didn’t know how you were going to thank her for her hospitality, her generosity, and her existence. But knowing how vulnerable you feel, she just smiles and pats your back.

“Girl, I know how you feel. One thing you shouldn’t do is apologize. Thank me later but there’s absolutely nothing you should apologize for.” She gives you a wink.

Now alone, you felt your nerves kick in as you try to register that Raeun cannot protect you when she’s gone for classes. You hated feeling dependent on her and you hated feeling weak, but you know what?

You felt like you deserved a break. You studied so hard, you tried so hard to grab Jungkook’s attention, and you tried so hard dealing with emotions strong enough to break you down and you were just done. You were tired. So what if you rest for a couple of days? No one will be mad. Raeun was right. You can thank her later, but surely you don’t have to apologize for feeling this way.

So you kicked yourself onto your bed, and dived straight to watch some funny videos. And as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, something happened.

Yes, something magical happened.

It wasn’t Jungkook acting all stupid at a party again, hell no.

It was something entirely different.

You saw the swift arm movements, the smooth lines and fluid form, the music created using the human body. Was that even possible?

You saw sunshine.

“J…J-Hope?”

That was his name. J-Hope. The boy who shone his sunny yet fierce facial expression dancing a routine to 24K Magic.

And that was your entrance to something new. You became a fan of him in a split second. One moment you are replaying the video for about 25 times and the next moment you are exploring his page. The next moment you are following him. And the next moment and for the next few following moments you were drowning yourself in this newfound excitement.

Raeun came back to you giggling and sighing happily.

She frowned for a few seconds, wondering if she should take you to the school psychiatrist, but she later understood when you told her that you recently found out about J-Hope.

“Oh, Yeah. He’s like…super popular lately. It’s said that he’s one of the best young dancers and he’s getting a lot of media attention lately. Well, he is hot after all, he has sooo many followers.”

“…He’s…he’s soooo talented. Like, really talented. Not just because he is hot though. His dancing is just so passionate.”

Raeun smiled a little, glad at least something simple like this (to her) was able to get you to laugh a little.

But to you, it wasn’t something simple. For the next few days, all you did was stalk his Instagram, liked all of his oh-so-aesthetic pictures, watch literally all of his videos, and as if that wasn’t enough, rewatched them all over again. You learned a lot about him. About how his real name was Jung Hoseok. How he is currently a street dancer who slowly gained exponential fame through social media and went viral. How even if he danced so passionately he always found time to appreciate his other hobbies such as photography and singing. How he dreamed of becoming a professional dancer and opening his own dance school one day. How for now, he loved to meet new dancers, collaborate with them, and show them off to the world like the world doesn’t have enough sunshine. How even if he seemed all badass, there were cute things about him too, like being afraid of snakes and rollercoasters. Your world shined through this man who didn’t even know you.

And Raeun may not understand you. I mean, all you have been doing was either catching up on notes you missed or watch J-Hope. But soon, she started to leave you be, and started to even watch him with you. It was crazy to think that something like this served as distraction away from Jungkook, but you surprised Raeun by entertaining a crazier idea.

“Hey. Y’know what? How bout, I try this?”

Raeun turned away from the phone screen a little belatedly.

“Try what.”

You pointed to the screen.

“This.”

“What, dancing?”

“Well, not exactly. But you know how I modelled a little before? And how I sing sometimes?”

Raeun rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“You make it sound like you just touched both hobbies. Your mom and I both know how prolific you are, with both singing and modelling.”

It was true. Even if you became a model for the sake of catching Jungkook’s attention, you were naturally talented at it. And singing was something you were so often praised for, even by Jungkook. But you had no confidence in both, and that was ultimately something that made you quit modelling or drop out of your high school honors choir. Perhaps your confidence was dropped to an infinitesimal level due to failing to be with Jungkook, but during the past few days, that confidence level surged to the northern skies. And who made that confidence soar? J-Hope. Someone who doesn’t even know you. And because of this certain Jung Hoseok, you were willing to do something that always lingered your mind. Jung Hoseok inspired you.

And so you made up your mind. You didn’t care if no one will notice you at first. You were finally breaking out of your shell into becoming someone you should have become so long ago.

But you were never too late.

You weren’t going to let one guy ruin your life like that.

You were going to be someone like J-Hope.

——————

After a little while, you picked yourself up your feet. You weren’t holed up in your room, and you learned to be a little bit more independent. More confident. More you. Yes, you still made efforts to avoid Jungkook, but still. An improvement.

And now, you were about to make more.

“Kay, Y/N, let’s try this one more time.” Raeun called out to you behind the camera amidst your trance.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. It’s just…I haven’t done this in a long time, y’know?”

“Of course I know. Take your time, okay? Remember. Just be you. Don’t worry about what other people have to say. You are freakishly talented enough.”

You and Raeun smiled at each other and as you shut your eyes you took another deep breath. Your hands were sweaty, both your feet and voice were shaking, but after a while, you envisioned the sun. You had the same anxiety during the first modelling job where your parents, Jungkook, and Jungkook’s parents were watching, but now, you had that same adrenaline-fused feeling of excitement that you discovered with J-Hope. You. You were going to do this.

And you open your eyes, and sing.

And as you thought, it was difficult.

Your first video was a self introduction.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. And I have a story to tell. But y’know, it’d be a little boring to suddenly open myself up like a book, so I wanna take my time. So please, listen to me.”

You utilize whatever you learned in modelling to keep a straight face, strict but fluid posture, and beauty tips. You recalled the times where you enjoyed singing, back when your parents would attend your childhood talent shows and you personified a loud, clear voice.

Since when was all of that convoluted? When did you start being so shy with your own voice? Was it when little boy Jungkook bragged to his friends on the playground that you were the best singer he knew? Was it the pressure? But at that moment, you didn’t blame anyone. No, not Jeon Jungkook. When you sang, you just remembered how happy you were, singing. You lost that joy but you found it back. That’s all that it mattered.

You try a number of different songs, from Boa’s Every Heart to Audrey Hepburn’s Moon River, and though Raeun praised you with hugs and tears you were never sure enough that you were good.

But, it happened.

At first, responses toward your uploads were slow. You thought you were fine with that, because even letting out what you wanted to let out was cathartic to you. But during the first few months, you became more and more dejected over low views and lack of response. However, Raeun’s networking connections and incredible signal boosting as well as your busking and frequent gigs at school events or small coffee shops, your name spread like wildfire through the entire school. And although it was a little towards the future, you went viral on YouTube.

Somewhere in between though, you think you see Jungkook across campus. He was with the girl he was with that one time-Somin, you think her name was. You would be lying if you said you were completely over him. But with Raeun’s now utter determination to get you “out there” and your busy schedules balancing school work, recording, and finding times to at least breathe, you become more invested in yourself than thinking about him. And so, you smile. You don’t say “Hi” or anything awkward. Maybe one day you’ll have the courage to talk to him, or, well, stop avoiding him first. After all, you completely shut him out without his say in anything. But for now, you think that him being out of your life was not something that was losing light. If Jeon Jungkook was someone you wanted to please, then J-Hope, Jung Hoseok was your role model. You don’t have to please someone in order to admire them. That was it.

#bts #bts imagine #bts imagines #jungkook #j-hope #submission

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