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apocalypticavolition · 1 year

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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 9: Leavetakings

Spoiler alert: This post contains spoilers all the way through the whole series. Probably. Sometimes I only go as far as like, book 12? But if you're only on book 2, book 12 is a long ways off. Probably. Sometimes people are very fast readers.

This chapter opens up by completing the Aes Sedai circle: the icon of the Flame of Tar Valon. This is about the goodbye that Siuan officiates and the way she almost takes the arrow meant for Rand.

Some of the Warders glanced at Rand as he walked across the courtyard; a few raised eyebrows when they saw the heron-mark sword, but none spoke.

No one wants to mess with a twenty-year old wearing a sword that says, "I'm good at killing people with swords" because like yeah it's probably stolen valor but also if it's not you're getting the attention of a straight-up psycho.

Ragan waved to him, and Uno nodded, but Masema was not the only one who gave him a cold stare and turned away.

Angry about Rand violating the women's quarters or about Rand and co. being the proximate cause for all the chaos of the last few days?

Rand glanced down at the golden thorns climbing his crimson sleeve and grimaced. Small wonder Mat and Perrin still think I’m putting on airs. On returning to his room he had found everything already packed and sent on. All of the plain coats he had been given were on the packhorses, so the servants said; every coat left in the wardrobe was at least as ornate as the one he wore.

Yeah but fancy coat or no, they're kinda being dicks to Rand here since he's at least trying to apologize. Can't blame them too much though since Moiraine's orders are actively causing Rand to look like a jerk. Thanks Moiraine! Please don't come back into Rand's life until you're willing to be like 33% less manipulative and awful.

“When you can’t win a big victory, sheepherder, learn to settle for the small ones. If you made them think of you as something more than a farm-boy who’ll be easy to handle, then you won a small victory. Now be quiet and listen. I’ve only time for one last lesson, the hardest. Sheathing the Sword.”

Ah, here's Lan as the deliberately toxic mentor, providing advice that... never really pays off! Rand's attempt to an hero in combat doesn't work and he never needs to again before he dies, Lan tries as well but is contractually obligated to be Nynaeve's loving husband for the next few decades, and no one else really obsesses over it. I wonder if Jordan had been able to finish the series if Rand might not have let Moridin sheathe him to finally pay it off as a final contrast between the two: Rand embracing death as a means to ensure life while Moridin pointlessly chases it and never accomplishes anything meaningful as a result.

“But, Mother,” Agelmar was protesting, “you’ve had no time to rest from the journey here. Stay at least a few days more. I promise you a feast tonight such as you could hardly get in Tar Valon.”

I doubt very much that the fortress city at the ass end of nowhere is going to be able to rival Tar Valon's access to feasting. Siuan probably doesn't feast much but if the occasion ever called for it Tar Valon should have spreads for days.

“I heard,” Loial said, “that she was sending someone out today, all the way to Arad Doman. There is word of some sort of trouble on Almoth Plain, and the Amyrlin Seat wants to know exactly what. What I don’t understand is, why now? From what I hear, the rumors of this trouble came from Tar Valon with the Aes Sedai.”

Rand of course freaks out because Fain left the promise that they'd meet again at Toman Head, but since he erased it he doesn't get it either. Both are unaware of the Dark Prophecy which would put a significant amount of fire under Siuan.

“Perhaps so,” Loial mused, “but you humans do so much with your lives. We do nothing but huddle in our stedding. Planting the groves, and even the building, were all done before the Long Exile ended.”

The Exile is pretty recent in Ogier terms, when you think about it. The cultural retreat makes a good deal of sense, especially because every time you might think the Ogiers would have a revolution back to openness, a continent-spanning war broke out. Hopefully they'll come out of their shell once the Last Battle is over and the world is safer, start bringing their own changes to the world.

“Glory to the Builders, Loial Kiseran.”

This is an Old Tongue word meaning "Honorable one" and is very much not a family name because that's not how Ogier naming works (they have patro- and matronymics).

“You ride to find the Horn of Valere,” she said, “and the hope of the world rides with you. The Horn cannot be left in the wrong hands, especially in Darkfriend hands. Those who come to answer its call, will come whoever blows it, and they are bound to the Horn, not to the Light.”

Luckily for humankind, the Horn itself seems bound to the light, hence its inscription that clearly prevents Darkfriends from being able to use it in any useful circumstances.

The watcher was back. The hair stirred on the back of his neck.

Huh, guess it was the Grey Man, let in very early and then failing to do anything for a day and a half for... reasons. Odd choice.

Odder still that it's trying to kill Rand under the circumstances of Ba'alzamon very much not wanting that. Lanfear wouldn't be down with it either. Did a different Forsaken make this call (which ones are even free at this point?), is the Grey Man only trying to injure Rand and just extra shitty at its job, or is it just disobedient?

Last year in the White Tower, with my own guards at every gate and Warders all around me, a man with a knife came within five steps of me. A Whitecloak, no doubt, though I’ve no proof.

NGL this being a Grey Man too wouldn't be very surprising, since it's within the time period Ish was awake and causing trouble and causing any kind of chaos in the White Tower is exactly what he loves to do.

“I wager Illian does not give its Great Hunt of the Horn so rousing a send-off,” she said. “But yours is the true Great Hunt. You are few, so you may travel quickly, yet enough to do what you must. I charge you, Lord Ingtar of House Shinowa, I charge all of you, find the Horn of Valere, and let nothing bar your way.”

Thank goodness Loial is going on this Hunt, so he can write about it all and the gang can eventually get their own part in the gleeman tales. They more than deserve it.

“And Nidao. They had the second watch. They always stayed together, even if they had to trade or do extra duty for it. They were not on guard when it happened, but. . . . They fought at Tarwin’s Gap, a month gone, and saved Lord Agelmar when his horse went down with Trollocs all around him. Now this. Darkfriends.” He drew a deep breath. “Everything is breaking apart.”

Ingtar's beginning to crack under the pressure already. Let's keep an eye on that.

“As you wish, my Lor—ah—Rand. I’m a sniffer, you see. Been one four years this Sunday. I never heard of such a thing before then, but I hear there’s a few others like me. It started slow, catching bad smells where nobody else smelled anything, and it grew. Took a whole year before I realized what it was. I could smell violence, the killing and the hurting. Smell where it happened. Smell the trail of those who did it. Every trail’s different, so there’s no chance of mixing them up. Lord Ingtar heard of it, and took me in his service, to serve the King’s justice.”

Unlike our heroes, who got all their powers when puberty was finishing up, Hurin apparently came into sniffing in comparative old age - he's got "greying hair".

Also note that he's probably named for Tolkien's character, who does not appear in The Lord of the Rings because he's thousands of years dead at that point. Thankfully for our Hurin, his kids are not forced to have an incest baby by Rand's (or anyone else's) magic, nor are there three decades of imprisonment or betrayed cities or anything like that. It's just a cute reference.

There was one in Cairhien once—Brown Ajah, but I swear I thought she was Red before she let me go—she kept me a month trying to find out how I do it. She didn’t like not knowing.

It would be really funny if this had been Verin but I'm pretty sure it's not.

“She was right, then, the Amyrlin Seat,” Ingtar said slowly. “A great and wise woman, who deserves better than me to serve her. Take the trail, Hurin.”

Ingtar's really cracking under the pressure. Half-surprised he doesn't paint "I'M A DARKFRIEND AND I DON'T LIKE IT" on his banner before this is over.

People ran past Bayle Domon in masks and costumes bizarre and fanciful, many showing too much flesh.

Prude! More flesh! More flesh!

Easing the Badger, it was called, though not even Nieda Sidoro, the innkeeper, knew what the name meant; there had always been an inn of the name in Illian.

Is- is it really that hard to figure it out? I feel like Domon's just too prudish to get it and Nieda thinks that if you have to ask you're not old enough.

They were all three nondescript, but there was an air about the speaker that made Domon take him for their leader. They did not appear to be armed; despite their fine clothes, they looked as if they did not need to be. There were hard eyes in those so very ordinary faces.

I always like the bad guys who manage to look like anybody else and yet are still obviously quite dangerous. Fictional worlds need more of them.

“You can coast to Mayene easily enough. Surely, Captain, you would be willing to sail along the shoreline for a thousand gold marks.”

Not even subtle at this point though. I wonder if the various people trying to hire Domon are all independent Darkfriends being directed by Ba'alsy (including the Illianer noblewoman who can't be fully responsible for what we see in this chapter but could be involved) or if they're all different stooges for a singular person.

The First’s city-state was a province of Tear in all but name, and she would no doubt like Illian’s aid. And there were many in Illian who said it was time for another war, that Tear was taking more than a fair share of the trade on the Sea of Storms. A likely net to snare him, if he had not seen three like it in the past month.

Berelain's situation isn't quite as bad as Domon assumes, but yes. It's fun that we're setting up this bit of worldbuilding now when we won't even meet her until the start of book 4.

Like most people who had never been to the Borderlands, Nieda did not believe in Trollocs. He had tried telling her the truth of it; she enjoyed his stories, and thought they were all lies. She did not believe in snow, either.

Illian must have been doing alright in the unnatural winter, then - even if things were colder than usual, they weren't so cold as to make farming impossible. No wonder the Dark One switches tactics next year.

Dangerous coins. One or two might pass, but so many would say to most people exactly what Nieda thought. There were Children of the Light in the city, and although there was no law in Illian against dealing with Aes Sedai, he would never make it to a magistrate if the Whitecloaks heard of this. These men had made sure he would not simply take the gold and stay in Illian.

While I'm sure the Whitecloaks have been doing this off-and-on throughout their whole existence, I get the feeling that Niall's made this a big point for his terrorist cells to get Tar Valon as isolated as it was during Hawkwing's siege. Most people would under normal circumstances take Nieda's approach: Yeah it sucks that it's witch gold, but it's real witch gold and that's better than no gold.

Domon reared to his feet. “Roust the crew, Yarin. Find them and tell them Spray sails as soon as there do be men enough aboard to handle her.” Stuffing the parchment into his coat pocket, he snatched up the bag of gold and pushed his second out the door ahead of him. “Roust them, Yarin, for I’ll leave any man who no makes it, standing on the quay as he is.”

Poor Domon. Bro had no idea what he was getting into buying that seal; much like most Darkfriends assumed their oaths would never trigger in their lifetimes, for most of recent history getting your hands on a seal wouldn't have meant anything at all. But he's been living a constant nightmare since a little before book 1 began and unlike Rand he didn't get a month off.

And of course, things are only gonna go downhill from here.

“Spray do sail now. To sea.” Domon cut off Yarin’s protests about light and tides, and Spray not being built for the open sea.

I expect that while Domon often threatened to leave sailors behind, this is one of the only times he's actually done so.

In thin red wax below the signature were impressed the Rising Sun seal of Cairhien and the Five Stars of House Riatin.

And so even the King of Cairhien is a Darkfriend. Humanity is thoroughly corrupted at this point.

He had heard that Whitebridge had been burned to the ground right after he sailed from there, and there had been rumors of Myrddraal as well as Trollocs. It was that, all of it together, that had first convinced him he was not imagining things, that had had him on guard when that first odd commission was offered, too much money for a simple voyage to Tear, and a thin tale for a reason.

It's great that the thing that convinces Domon that it's all about him was in fact just the thing he was only tangentially connected to. The Wheel is so far ahead of the Darkfriends that it's difficult to see any of them standing a chance no matter how many Turnings pass.

The disk felt hard and smooth in his hand, and not at all valuable except for its age, but he was afraid it was what his pursuers were after. Lightsticks, and ivory carvings, and even bones turned to stone, he had seen other times, other places.

Since the seven Ages don't last anywhere near long enough for fossilization to be a natural process, I wonder what crazy shenanigans go down in age six or seven to make them such a thing going forward.

“The Taraboners and the Domani have always squabbled over Almoth Plain and Toman Head. Even if it has come to blows this time, a careful man can always find trade. West, Yarin.”

Sadly, Domon won't quite be careful enough... It's way more of a war zone than even he expects!

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life-in-toontown · 9 months

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Yeah so as you can probably guess from my reblog spree I just saw The Boy and the Heron today and loved it

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immortal-enemies · 4 years

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Livvy couldn't say that being a ghost was nice. It was alright most of the time. An in-between 'meh'. She liked that she could look over her family, that she could search for Irene when she disappeared. What she didn't like though was that she couldn't talk to her family, that whenever she found Irene, the lynx couldn't see her most of the time.

But, Ty could see her, could talk to her. It was enough. It had to be enough. He was her twin, her other half. She knew him inside out. His mannerisms, his peeves, how he had a glutton for knowledge, how he was curious about everything.

She knew how he thought about things. And he knew the same for her.

So, that was why, she didn't need him to tell her what he was thinking when she saw him looking at himself in the mirror. He was just standing there staring at himself. Seeing how much he had changed.

'I look so different,' he said.

Livvy had to agree. He had changed. He had grown taller by a few inches. His shoulders were a little broader, his collarbones just a little more defined. The panes of his cheekboneswere elegant, his jaw sharp. His hair looked curlier and his eyes more striking and intimidating. The heron necklace on his chest looked delicate and ethereal, just like the boy who had given it to him.

But the thing that made him look the most different was the lack of emotion in his eyes. His eyes were distant. Always thinking ahead. Not not - feeling emotion, just — not showing it.

Livvy wished she could stop him from thinking so ahead, tell him to stop and enjoy life in the present.

But she couldn't. Because it wasn't her job to tell him that. She couldn't tell him the joys of life, not if she herself was dead.

Before she could reply, a knock sounded on the door and she started. She looked to see Dru standing in the doorway.

'Ty,' she said, 'I think you have some mail from the Scholomance. You should check it out.'

Ty nodded. Livvy saw Dru open her mouth, then close it. Livvy wondered if Dru had noticed the distantness in Ty's eyes .

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When they reached the Dining Room, Livvy was met with a beautiful sight. She had forgotten today was pancake day. There were pancakes of different flavours, plain vanilla, chocolate, banana and oats, lining the table with different syrups and toppings like, maple syrup, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, different berries and fresh fruits.

Livvy couldn't eat. She missed eating (obviously), but she didn't think about it that often. But, looking at Julian's handmade breakfast now, it made her heart and her stomach ache.

She saw Emma showing Julian a letter and a few photographs. Curious, she went toward them.

She saw the letter first, in Julian's hand. She didn't read what was in it, she just saw the last few lines.

Love,

Jem and Tessa Carstairs

(P. S: Kit and Mina have sent their love in a different way, look at the photos)

She did look at photos and the package that had come with the letter.

The photo was taken in a classical looking kitchen. It was way too huge for a family of four, but in the photo it was being completely used. There were pots and packets on the counter, a tray of cupcake molds, silicone chocolate molds and all that stuff. Mina was sitting on the counter, her mouth stained with eating too many chocolates, Tessa was behind the figure standing in the middle, looking like she was chastising him.

And in the center was Kit. He had also changed, more so than Ty. His shoulders had become way broader than they were before, and his biceps were flexed as he was holding a bowl full of chocolate batter and whisking it. His skin had darkened, making the mole below his left eye more visible. It was a candid shot, and he was in the middle of laughing, his head thrown back, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

She looked up from the photo to see Ty coming. Saw his eyes run up and down the photo, saw his eyes tighten and his mouth flatten as he looked at the boy. Not from anger, but from sadness and sorrow and loneliness. She couldn't do anything but watch as Ty took his pancakes and slipped out of the room, without looking at the other photos or the package full of sweets, somehow most of them being Ty's favorites.

She could tell him that Kit hadn't forgotten him. Hadn't left him. That when she had seen Kit after almost six months, the first question Kit had asked was whether Ty was okay or not. That he had given Ty the only thing he had of his mother. Hadn't thought twice about it.

But she didn't. Because it wasn't her job. Because Kit was just as much as her brother as Ty was and she wouldn't reveal his secret.

So, she let Ty think that Kit had left him. Had grown tired of him and left him. She let Ty think that Kit didn't love him.

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Sorry if this is way too long, I didn't want it to be, but this hc just came to me that Jem writes Emma letters throughout the years and sends photos of Tessa, Mina and Kit doing shenanigans. And one day, when Ty is back in LA, a letter, some photos and package comes from Jem and yeah.. Anyway I totally think Kit would learn how to cook from Tessa and Jem, and them send the two of them on weekend dates and cook food for Mina.

BRO IT WASN'T TOO LONG I WANTED IT TO C O N T I N U E-

THIS WAS SO GOOD STOP-

Something that's kinda random that caught my eye was how in the first paragraph, you said like, two things that she liked (watching over her family and she liked to look for Irene) then named the downsides of those two things. Idk why it just was something I loved so much.

Also- She couldn't tell him the joys of life, not if she herself was dead. Was absolutely beautiful I just- there are no words.

I also like how Livvy didn't tell Ty something that wasn't her secret to tell. That was very nice to read for a change 😸

And, one last thing, "delicate and ethereal" is how we shall describe Kit from now on thx 😌

Overall, I completely support this and am honored that you gave me the ask 😄 tysm this was amazing ♥️

Also so sorry that this took so long to answer oops-

#( ◜‿◝ )♡#livia blackthorn #livvy blackthorn #ty blackthorn #kit herondale #dru blackthorn #julian blackthorn #twp #the wicked powers #asks #anon #tw all caps

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julemmaes · 4 years

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We Have To

Nesta Archeron x Cassian modern au

A/N: I’M SO SORRY THIS IS SOME WEEKS LATE, BUT I MADE IT, I DID IT!!!!

@darkshadowqueensrule ELLA THIS IS FOR YOU. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FLUFFY;) THING AS MUCH I DID PLANNING AND WRITING IT AND I HOPE IT BRINGS YOU JOY

Word count: 3,098

Cassian had so much to do that day that he cursed himself for not thinking of everything sooner. He had already bought the flowers for Nesta, who lay in the seat next to him, and the smell of the food and spices their neighbor had given him was already intoxicating him. He just hoped it wouldn't get too cold by the time they got to Azriel and Emerie's house. They were all going to be there, as they did every year, to celebrate Nesta's birthday in company, but before joining their family, Cassian had to pick up each of his four children from school.

He arrived almost immediately at the school of the youngest, Alesia and Becan, and smiled when he saw them on the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the line of cars to flow by until theirs would appear in the parking lot.

They were only a year apart, but Alesia was the oldest, and in the last year she had grown so much that Cassian's heart ached every time he looked at her. She was starting to look like Nesta and he couldn't have been happier, even though she was losing the light blonde hair that was being replaced by the classic light brown color of the Archeron sisters.

Becan, on the other hand, looked exactly like Leka, his oldest son, and both were the exact copy of Cassian, it was as if they weren't even Nesta's children. Both of his little men looked older than they were, and they never failed to have that silly, cocky grin on their faces - as Nesta used to point out.

When the two children saw the familiar car they lit up, pointing him out to the teacher and starting to run towards him. Alesia was the first to catch up and got in right away, pulling up Becan's backpack, which at times seemed to tower over him as big as it was.

"Hello gorgeous." said Cassian turning to his children.

"Hi daddy!" they both yelled.

He reached out a hand to his daughter's head, fixing her hair behind her ear and then turned to his son, "What did you guys do today?"

Becan was arranging his backpack next to him with a frown on his face, "I had English and we got to plurals and the teacher said we're great, but I didn't understand why I can't say foots." concluded the youngest looking directly at him. Alesia beside him giggled, turning to face her father as well.

Cassian's eyes went wide with amusement, restraining himself from laughing, "What do you mean?"

"Why do I have to say feet?" the boy asked, arching an eyebrow, "Why can't I just say foots, or mouses?" then he shrugged, curling the corner of his mouth, "We'll never know."

"It's the irregulars," Alesia beat him to the punch, still looking at him for approval. Cassian smiled at her and nodded slightly, "There are no real rules, you just have to read a lot of texts."

A car in line behind them honked and Cassian huffed, turning back to the steering wheel, "Seatbelts please." he waited to hear the click of both children before driving off towards Xhuli's school, his first daughter. He turned on the radio, keeping the volume low enough to hear what his children were telling him.

He was more relaxed than in years past, oddly enough. He was always so fidgety during this time of year, and when Nesta's birthday came around, he couldn't help but remember all the times they had been young and celebrated for days on the beaches of Adriata, waiting for the sun to go down and rise the next day from over the mountains. He couldn't help but think of all the little gifts he gave her - the shells, the stones, the flowers - that Nesta had kept throughout the years to come and that still sat on the middle shelf of the bookcase in their room.

He thought about how the light from the coastal region was a gift from the gods, the way it had lit up Nesta's clear eyes every holy time, making them shine just for him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, focusing on his daughter's words.

"Then during the break Ella gave me a piece of her snack and I gave her a piece of mine," Alesia yawned, then nodded thoughtfully, "She's nice."

"And did you manage to do the geography test or was it too hard?" he asked her, turning into the street of Xhuli's school.

"It went well, I think," she murmured, "although I couldn't remember the name of the mountains in Illyria, what are they called?" she asked curiously, leaning forward. Cassian restrained himself from telling her to sit down in the seat, as an unnatural fear welled up inside him.

He cast a glance at Becan as well, to make sure he was buckled in properly as well.

"Myrmidons." sighed Cassian, returning his eyes to the road as his heart sped up in his chest.

"Yeah!" shouted Alesia, grunting, "The Myrmidons." then slammed a hand on her forehead dramatically.

"Are we going to Uncle Az's?" asked Becan suddenly.

Cassian parked the car under the big oak tree where he always waited for Xhuli to get out of school and unbuckled his belt, turning to face his kids, "We have to pick up Leka first, then we'll stop by mom's and then we'll all go to Az's together, yeah." he replied, reminding them that they wouldn't be eating at home today and they wouldn't have to wait for the oldest to come back with the bus. Becan nodded, yawning as well, and Alesia laughed, reaching over to stick a finger in his mouth until he had it wide open.

Cassian laughed when Becan closed his teeth on her finger and Alesia wailed, retracting her hand instantly afterwards.

The little boy unbuckled his belt, "Can I show you what I made for mommy?" he asked his dad. Cassian nodded excitedly, smiling at him, but feeling his heart tighten in his chest, "It's not beautiful, but the teacher said it's the thought that counts."

At that he snorted, because it sounded like something Teacher Aelin might have said, but the laugh was short-lived, because Becan showed him a drawing of them. It wasn't a masterpiece, as the child had already anticipated, but you could see how much effort he had put into coloring inside the lines, going over the edges with markers. He and Nesta were in the middle of the paper and holding hands, lying on what Cassian imagined were beach towels on the sand, while their four children were all in the water and playing catch.

"It's Adriata." he whispered, swallowing noisily and handing the drawing back to his son, "It's really beautiful, you've improved so much since last year."

Becan beamed all over, thanking him and settling back in his seat, bringing the drawing to his lap. Cassian turned around when he heard his new teenager's voice ring out not far from them and smiled, seeing that she was running to the car, waving her hand at him. He raised his own, waving back.

"And I made this card," the little girl said, pushing something shiny between the two front seats. Cassian wanted to laugh at the amount of pink and gold glitters on that thing. "But I don't know if mom will like this cause it's very sparkly."

"I'm sure she'll love it." he said, smiling reassuringly at his daughter through the rearview mirror. "What did you write inside?"

"That I love her and that I-" she couldn't finish the sentence, because Xhuli had flung the door wide open.

"Hello everyone!" she squealed, picking up the flowers and putting them on her legs, getting into the car. She turned to Cassian, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek and turning to her siblings right after, "Are you ready to play ride or die all afternoon?" she cheered them on with a bright smile on her face.

Alesia and Becan shrieked in delight, jerking their hands in the air and Cassian shook his head, his eyes wide, "Why do you always have to instigate them to play that awful game?" he asked her as he settled into his seat, "Someone always ends up getting hurt and crying."

Xhuli chuckled, shrugging, "It's always Tedian or Daorsa anyway."

Cassian looked at her open-mouthed, "Xhuli."

"What?" she asked equally dumbfounded, then huffed, looking ahead, "Even Uncle Rhys always says they're whiners and should learn to take jokes," she told him with a pointed look, "And he's their father."

He shook his head, running his hand over his face, "If your mother were here-"

"She'd tell me to make them cry harder probably," Xhuli chuckled again, "Come on you go, I can't wait to eat Aunt Emerie's meat pie."

"Belts." laughed Cassian, not leaving until he was sure everyone was buckled in.

The drive to Leka's high school was longer, considering he was studying downtown, but Cassian relaxed a bit as Xhuli distracted the little ones, focusing on the road.

"I got a nine in literature today," the oldest daughter said, catching his attention. Shifting his gaze to her for a moment he noticed that she was torturing her hands, playing with one of the rings Nesta left her.

He gave her a warm smile, "It's a really good grade, I'm proud of you."

"And I finished the correction before the others, so I did something for mom," she said in a more uncertain voice, starting to rummage through her backpack. He couldn't see her face, but he knew her cheeks were red. "It's crap."

Cassian really didn't understand where all the low self-esteem that seemed to be in each of his children that day was coming from. He guessed that the idea of doing something that Nesta might not like scared them as much as it had scared him in the early days of dating.

They stopped at a red light and Xhuli held out the small blue piece of paper toward him.

He opened his eyes wide again, admiring the way she'd folded each corner, where she'd decorated the still visible parts of the paper, until it was a beautiful heron in flight.

"Baby," he breathed, "I know I'm supposed to scold you for doing this at school, but-" he chuckled, shaking his head, "it's beautiful." and a relieved, very short laugh escaped her lips.

"Thanks, dad."

They arrived shortly thereafter at Leka's school, who was standing on the sidewalk and looking annoyed. When the car stopped just ahead of where he was, Becan unbuckled his seatbelt, shifting into the middle seat, but his older brother opened the passenger door, nodding to Xhuli, "Get in the back."

"Excuse me?" his sister asked, genuinely shocked.

Leka clenched his jaw and looked at her with dark eyes. Cassian knew immediately that something was wrong.

The son huffed, "I said go to the back."

"No," Xhuli shook her head, "I got here first and you're always in the front."

"Stop that right now," his father scolded them both. Then he crossed Leka's gaze and his son looked over the car, across the road.

Xhuli had a deep frown on her face, "He started it."

Cassian sighed, looking at the girl, "Could you please get in the back?" when she gaped, he clasped his hands around the steering wheel, "I know, you're already sitting in the front and it would be so much easier and faster if he just got in the back, but it's a hard day for him and-"

"It's not hard just for him," she retorted, in a tone of voice Cassian had never heard her use. She sounded like Nesta at that moment, authoritative rather than condescending.

"Please," he whispered, looking into her eyes.

Xhuli must have seen something in his gaze, because she huffed and gathered up her stuff, before walking out and giving her brother a shove. Leka didn't even seem to mind and dropped into the seat next to Cassian, quickly buckling himself in and resting his hood-covered head against the window.

"Leka-"

"Just drive, please," he murmured, not even looking at his father.

The relatively cheerful air that had been there up until that point had disappeared completely, and even when Becan had tried to get his older brother's attention, he hadn't paid any attention to him at all. Xhuli had tried to point out to him that he was being an asshole, but Cassian had snapped at her, and told her to apologize straight away.

They'd started talking about who would give their mom the gift first, and Cassian had more felt than seen, Leka tense up at his siblings' words. He had taken deep, shuddering breaths and it had taken all his strength for the man not to stop and hug his son in the middle of the road.

The second they pulled up in front of the particularly green and overgrown lawn, the three little ones hopped out of the car without even waiting for their father's permission and started running towards what they knew was their mother's gravestone.

Leka looked away from his siblings, shifting his gaze to his father and then his eyes filled with tears, but nothing fell down his cheeks, "I want to leave."

Cassian felt his heart in his throat, his hands trembling around the steering wheel.

"I want to go home, I don't want to go to the uncles," Leka continued, shaking his head, "I want to get out of here."

"Leka..." he tried again, reaching out a hand toward him. His son smacked his arm, pushing him away. Cassian closed his eyes.

"No!" he shrieked into the silence of the cockpit. His eyes were wide and he was struggling to breathe, "Why do we have to do this every year? It's sick." he spat at him.

Cassian shifted his gaze to his children, the ones who were now kneeling in front of his wife's grave. In front of the grave he took such good care of as he had taken care of Nesta while she was alive. Alesia was opening the card she had drawn at school and he saw a pool of glitter fall on the grass in front of them.

He turned to Leka, feeling his eyes water, "We need-"

"We don't need anything." he interjected again, more angrily, "You, you need this thing, because you can't seem to get away from mom."

Cassian jerked back at those words, opening his eyes even wider.

Leka seemed satisfied with that reaction because he continued, "She died five fucking years ago," he spoke through his teeth, "and you still bring me here and make me stand in front of her grave for an hour like it's going to do me any good, like talking to a fucking stone is going to help me." his son's voice cracked at the end of the sentence and tears slid down his skin. Cassian let go of a breath as his heart tightened in his chest more with every word Leka said.

"Stop it, you don't mean that," Cassian murmured, turning toward the gravestone-covered lawns, catching sight of some other relative who had come to visit a lost loved one.

"Yes, dad, I do," Leka shouted, "and being here so long, it hurts me! Just being here makes me so sick I can't breathe, and it makes me miss mom so much I can't think." a sob broke Cassian's breath, and he forced himself to look at his son. Leka was in no better condition than he was. "We come here and I can't think," he sobbed.

His face flushed, his breathing short, tears now falling without concern. He was opening and closing the fingers of his hands, looking for something to distract him from the pain so deep and inescapable that was grief.

Nesta Archeron, mother of four beautiful children and wife of the luckiest man in the world, had died in a car accident just a week after turning thirty-five. It didn't take long to realize that the news had shattered not only the family, but the entire neighborhood.

Cassian didn't remember much about the first few months after Nesta's death, always in a delirious state between anger and despair, but when it had taken shape in his head, when his body and mind had finally been ready to accept that this was now his new reality, another kind of grief, completely different from what he had experienced up until that moment, had taken over.

His children had needed him. And he hadn't been there for them.

Nesta would have been ashamed of him.

That had made him wake up somehow.

The idea of Nesta watching him, from wherever she was at that moment, and judging him for the way he had abandoned everything - for the way he had abandoned their children - had revived him and made him find his place in the lives of his daughters and sons.

And now, as he looked into his son's pitch-brown eyes, he couldn't speak, just as he had years before.

"Dad." Leka begged him in a broken voice, "Please let's go home."

Cassian shook his head, closing his eyes, "I can't."

Leka burst into tears, bringing both hands to his face to cover the grimace of pain and suffering as his body was shaken by loud sobs. Cassian placed a hand on his back, crying silently in turn, and Leka didn't take half a second before he pushed himself to him and let his father cradle him in his arms.

"I miss her so much." whispered Cassian as he wrapped his son up, "Every day."

Leka made a sound much like an animal that had just been shot before he resumed crying more loudly, "I miss mom."

His heart clenched so tightly in his chest that Cassian thought he was going to die, "I know."

"I miss mom." repeated Leka, pressing his face against his chest.

"We'll make it through, for her." murmured Cassian, clasping his hands around his jacket and bringing him as close to him as he could. He could feel Leka shaking, and he just wanted Nesta to be there with them, to help him fix the mess that was their lives. Watching Becan as he picked up the paper bird and flew it high above them, he thought he could never make it without the love of his life, but he still said, "We have to."

A/N: There’s one thing I always tell my readers, be aware of the winky faces;) I leave them anywhere I plan on destroying people’s hearts, so yeah, you’ve kinda been warned about the fact that this was NOT going to be fluff, I hope you liked it anyway, goodnight guys:)

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#nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #nessian #nessian fic #acosf #nessian baby #nessian children #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar ff #a court of silver flames #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta

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missnxthingg · 5 years

Note

may coming into peters room to ask what he wants for dinner or something and finds reader straddling his lap sleeping on his chest while he’s at his desk doing his homework.. like her reaction + maybe she comes in and asks him a bunch of cute questions about you?🥰

She’s just tired

A/N: Your request was sooooo cute I almost died with the diabetes I got with all of this sugar. Really loved it sooooo much! And I loved writing it. So enjoy as much as I did.

Words: 1,6K

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: If you consider cute a warning.

masterlist

Just please pretend he’s not sad in this gif! I’m going for May’s top of the head kiss only.

Getting May Parker to be home this early wasn’t a very easy task, specially when it was still sundowning. She drove home to open her front door and start to listen a very low and calm song coming from Peter’s bedroom. She smiled, knowing he was probably focused on his studies. The music was a sign that he was too deep in his own stuff.

He talked about something like having tons of homework this week, and if May really knew her nephew, is that sometimes he forgets to eat just because he’s full of things to do. So she decided to knock on his door to see what he wanted to eat, probably to order it because she was a terrible chef.

“Hey Peter, what do you want for dinner?” May asked, freezing right after she saw her nephew pressing his index finger against his lips, shushing her up. Her eyes went down to Peter. A girl, straddled on his lap, face resting on his chest, eyes shut and arms involving him in a hug. His left hand was stroking her hair, while his right hand was writing something down on his notebook. “What happened to her?”

“She’s just tired May. Her parents were fighting and she didn’t know where to go. And she just fell asleep right here.” He whispered and May nodded, leaning to the door and smiled.

“So this is the famous (Y/N)?” She asked and he nodded with a smirk on his face. “She’s really pretty.”

“She’s so beautiful, inside and out.” May approached him, standing behind him and stroked his hair. He inhaled the good smell of her shampoo on her hair and kissed the top of her head. “My beautiful girl.”

“Do you like her?”

“I think I love her May.” He giggled and dropped his pen over the book. “She makes me feel like no one has ever made me feel before. Happy, special, loved, but in a very singular way.”

“That’s cute.” She smiled, sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes were locked on her and his other hand met her back. He softly rocked her, and she snored, deep into her sleep.

“She takes care of me, like… she always texts to see if I already got home safely from patrol, and if I have a problem, she’s always there to help me.” He squeezed her and she relaxed even more in his arms. She sighed, making his smile go widder. “Sometimes she does this thing where she draws constellations on my freckles with her fingers, and I kept staring at her thinking how lucky I am to have such a special girl in my life.”

“You know Pete, the last time I saw someone like this, head over heels about a girl, his name was Ben Parker. And well, I married him.” She caressed her nephews cheek, squinting her eyes. “Sometimes I think that you look so much like your uncle, more than your dad.”

“Really?” His eyes shined when he glanced back to his aunt, watching she nodding her head yes.

“Maybe not in appearance, but the way you act…” She sighed, remember her old love. “ He used to hold me like that too, when we were younger. And if I was ever sad, he simply knew how to make me feel better.”

“I really miss him.” Peter felt down for a while, but he usually loves to hear stories about his uncle.

“I miss him too. So much Peter.” She let a tear fall from her face, but she wiped it right away.

“I’m sorry aunt May.”

“It’s okay sweetie.” She smiled, trying to comfort him. “If she is really that special, you better hold onto her and never let her go. You know that old phrase, ‘If you love her, let her go?’ ” He nodded. “That’s bullshit.”

“Great advice May.” He giggled, shaking his head.

“Now tell me about this girl.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head again.

“Oh, I’ve never told you? We met at the decathlon. And she’s like really, incredibly smart. Still, she asked me to study with her, for physics.”

“Maybe she was just making up with an excuse to spend some more time with you. Like Cady Heron in Mean Girls.”

“It’s so weird to see your own aunt mentioning Mean Girls.” She rolled her eyes. “So I took her to a coffee shop and we spent the day there, and I found out that she’s extremely nice and kind, also very funny. And of course, beautiful. I always thought she was gorgeous, but everything about her makes her beautiful. We became friends since that day.”

“And in what moment did you realise you liked her? Like really liked her.”

“When I asked her out on a date. She blushed so hard, I found it pretty cute, and when she said yes, I think I lost it. But of course I realised that when I kissed her. I took her to the pizza place, and even though it tasted like pepperoni, it was amazing.”

“Gross, but cute.”

“I gave her a necklace when I asked her to be my girlfriend. I’m pretty sure she’s wearing it right now. It’s a key, and I have the locker on my keys.” He pointed the keys over his desk with his head, and May glanced at it, smiling when she saw his keys over the table.

“That’s beautiful Peter.”

“Today when she came, all sad and red eyes, my heart broke. She looked so tired, and she simply slept right here in like… seconds. She said she hasn’t slept in two days, because her parents keep shouting at each other.” He squeezed her tighter. “I needed to do my homework, but she needed me more. I couldn’t let her go. I love her so much May.”

“I love you too.” She said, almost in a whisper. She looked up and left a peck on his lips.

“I’m sorry to wake you up baby.”

“It wasn’t so bad to wake up to such beautiful words.” She looked like trash, puffy eyes and tired face, but still, she sat straight and face May, giving her the biggest smile she could. “Hi, I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m May, and it’s really nice to meet you too (Y/N).”

“I’m so sorry to meet you in this situation, wish I looked more presentable to meet the famous aunt May.“

“Oh, it’s okay honey. Everytime you need to escape, the doors are always opened for you.”

“Yeah, you’re part of the family now.” She hugged Peter and he pulled May to join the hug.

“Thank you, it means so much to me. Especially in these times that family seems something so distance to me.”

“If there’s one thing I learned after my parents death, is that we make our own family.” He caressed her back and kissed her temple.

“He’s right, you know? I didn’t have kids of my own, but Peter’s my boy.” May smiled and rolled her fingers around his curls. “And you’re my kid too, from this moment beyond.”

“Thank you.” She smiled tenderly and May walked away, stopping at the door.

“So, what do you guys want for dinner?”

“Anything is fine, really.”

“(Y/N) wants chinese. She told me earlier.”

“Peter!”

“Chinese it is!” May winked and (Y/N) blushed.

“Really, there’s no need…”

“I’ve been dying for some spring rolls.” Peter interrupted and May nodded.

“Noted. I’m gonna order right now.” May left the room, and Peter started to laugh at (Y/N)’s face.

“Stop it!”

“You look so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“I was trying to cause a good impression to your aunt.”

“She already loves you.” He kissed her cheek, pressing a long kiss against it. “You know, what she said, it’s very true.”

“What?”

“You’re part of the family now.” He entwined their pinkies and she gave him an eskimo kiss.

“You just don’t know how grateful I am for that.”

“Oh I know. I’m grateful for having you. And I meant what I said before.”

“What?”

“That I love you.” She smiled and caressed his cheek.

“I love you too, very much Peter.” She kissed his, a long and sweet kiss, full of love. “Come on, let’s help May set the table.”

“And you were thinking you’re not causing a good first impression.” He giggled and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re an idiot.”

“You love this idiot.”

“I know.” She entwined their finger and pulled him to the living room.

They helped May set the table, and they spent the whole night talking about every subject there ever was. (Y/N) felt as if she had been part of the family for years now and she was so grateful and relieved for that. She loved Peter and wanted it all to work out just fine. By the end of the night, her dad came to take her home, even though she was avoiding going home.

“I don’t really wanna go, but my daddy calls.” She said and May nodded.

“But you’re welcome to stay anytime.”

“Thank you May, for everything.”

“I want you here having dinner with us every week, okay? I demand you!”

“I swear she won’t cook.” Peter made everyone laugh and May nodded.

“I will be here. Thank you again.”

Peter followed her to outside, and before he opened the building’s front door, he gave her a good night kiss.

“I wanted to stay. I don’t wanna hear those screams.”

“Call me and I can get you to calm down, okay?” She nodded and he gave a small peck on her lips. “Good night, I love you.”

“Night, I love you too.”

He opened the door and took her to the car, having a brief conversation with her dad before they drove off. She kept looking at the streets with a big smile on her face. For the first time after a long time feeling like she didn’t belong anywhere, she finally felt as if she was part of a family. And right in that moment, that’s was all she needed.

…………………

PART TWO/PREQUEL

…………………

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

Text

Geyarajan (Gandharva)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Female Human/Male Gandharva Additional Tags: Exophilia, Gandharva, Childhood Sweethearts, Puppy Love Content Warnings: Blood, Broken Limb, Separation, Memory lapse Words: 4600

A commission for @floral-and-fine, who did the lovely artwork above of Geyarajan! An angsty story about childhood love that gets torn apart by family, race, and circumstance! Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

In Hinduism, the Gandharvas are male nature spirits and husbands of the Apsaras, the spirits of clouds and air. Some are part animal, usually a bird or horse. They have superb musical skills; they guard the Soma and make beautiful music for the gods in their palaces. Gandharvas are frequently depicted as singers in the court of the gods.

Gandharvas in the historic sense acted as messengers between the gods and humans; today they are depicted as imitators, cheaters, liars and those who have tricked themselves 'into being god'. In Hindu law, a gandharva marriage is one contracted by mutual consent and without formal rituals.

You couldn’t remember exactly how old you were, perhaps six or seven, when you first met Geyarajan. You’d heard singing in the forest as you played in the garden behind your house, and though you knew you shouldn’t go into the woods alone, you couldn’t ignore the draw of the sound. After maybe ten minutes, you stumbled upon a clearing wherein a boy was singing, though he was unlike any other child you’d ever met.

Your village was human only; beasts and monsters were not allowed to settle there. In fact, non-human merchants were discouraged from selling their wares in the area and non-human travelers weren’t welcome in the taverns or inns. In your short life, you’d only seen a person who wasn’t human maybe twice, and only in passing. You didn’t quite understand why, but you were a small child and didn’t think to question it.

Not until you met Geyarajan. When you first saw him, you were mesmerized by his music. You sat and listened as still as a statue, afraid of spooking him, except when he stopped singing, he looked right at you and smiled as if he’d been waiting for you to come. He hopped off the rock where he had been sitting, and you got a better look at him.

He wore no clothing, but from the waist down, he was all feathers. His legs were long and spindly, ending in three-toed claws like that of a purple heron. The feathers extended up his back to his large wings, heather-grey in color, which were folded at rest behind him.

His hair was long and falling around his shoulders in ringlets, the same heather-gray as his feathers. He had a four streaks of black, two on each side, running down his neck, one stripe down his arms to his wrists, the other down the inside of his shoulders and disappearing into the feathers near his hips. His skin was dark brown and his eyes were sharp in shape, amber-gold in color, and hawk-like.

Though he was much taller than you because of his long legs, in his face, he looked to be about your age, perhaps slightly older. He was slender and graceful in his movements, taking careful steps toward you as if not to scare you, though you didn’t think you could possibly be afraid of him.

“Aren’t you from the village?” He asked, his speaking voice as musical as his song suggested. “Won’t you be in trouble for coming into the woods? My parents say that humans are scared of the woods.”

“I’m not scared,” You said, puffing up. “Papa says I’m a big girl. I can go to the corner store all by myself now. I only came ‘cause I heard you singing.”

“Oh,” He said, frowning. “I must be too close, then. I should go.”

“Wait!” You reached out, grabbing his hand. “Stay and play with me, won’t you? What’s your name?”

“Geyarajan,” He replied, not attempting to break away from your grasp. “You’re the girl who lives in the house near the river, right? What’s your name?”

You told him. “How do you know me?”

“I’ve seen you sometimes,” He said, leading you to the rock where he was sitting before. There was a bushel of flowers laying there. He began to weave them into a ring. “When I fly above the town. I know you from the ribbons.” He tugged at the blue ribbon you wore in your hair, which matched your pristine dress. Your mother insisted on dressing you like a doll, always making you wear frilly dresses and putting ribbons in your hair.

“You can fly?” You whispered in awe.

“Well, sure,” He laughed, fluffing his wings a little. “These aren’t fake, you know. I have to fly pretty high, so the only thing I can see of you clearly is the ribbons.”

“Why do you fly so high?” You asked him.

“Mother says it’s too dangerous to fly too low over the town,” Geyarajan said. “She says the people don’t like us, that they’d be mean to us if they knew we lived in the forest next to them.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. If it’s dangerous, why don’t you move?”

“Our kind lived in these woods before those humans ever settled here,” He said, pointing toward the village. “Why should we have to leave?”

“That makes sense, I guess,” You admitted. “I don’t see people like you in town. It’s only humans. I don’t know why.”

“Mother and Father say it’s because humans hate us,” He said morosely, looking at his hands as he continued to weave the garland. “Do you hate us?”

“No!” You said. “You’re so pretty! Can I… Can I touch your wings? I’ve never met a person with wings before.”

He regarded you warily, but said, “Okay, but only for a minute. Mother says our wings are a sign of divinity, that they make us holy.”

“Divine? Like an angel?”

“What’s an angel?”

You tried to explain what an angel was to him, but he just looked confused.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Do you want to touch my wings or not?” He asked impatiently.

“Yes, yes!” You exclaimed. You reached out tentatively and ran your fingertips gently down his proffered wing. He watched you carefully, his hands stilling in their work.

“Wow,” You breathed. “It’s so hard to believe they’re real.”

“Well, they are,” He sniffed, eyeing you. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“Well, I’ve never met a human, but my parents said they’re all cruel and heartless. They call your kind monsters, but you seem nice.”

“I am nice,” You replied. “I’m friends with everyone in town. I want to be your friend, too. Can I call you Rajan?”

“Why?”

“It’s a nickname!” You said. “It means we’re friends.”

“Oh,” He replied. “Yeah, I guess so. Can I give you a nickname?”

“Sure!”

“Alright, how about…” He looked around for inspiration and his eyes fell on the flowers in his lap. There were wild daisies, coneflowers, purple poppies, blanket flowers, black-eyed susans, and blush-pink primroses. “What about Primrose?”

“I love it!” You said excitedly. “Primrose and Rajan.”

Rajan giggled.

“What’s funny?”

“Well, my whole name, Geyarajan, means ‘king of songs,’” He replied, finishing the crown of flowers and placing it on his head. “But Rajan just means ‘king.’”

You giggled too. “I like that! You can be the king of the primroses! It’ll be a kingdom just for us!”

“Sounds fun!” He said. “Let’s play Kings and Flowers, then!”

“That’s not a real game!”

“Is too! I just made it up!”

The two of you played until it started to get dark, then Rajan escorted you home. He stopped about thirty feet away from the treeline, where you could hear your mother calling.

“I can’t go closer,” He said, still wearing the flower crown. He took it off and placed it on your head. “You should run home now. I’ll watch you to make sure you stay safe.”

“Alright,” You said brightly, standing on your tip-toe to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you again soon!”

He blushed and touched his cheek, frozen. You laughed joyfully and ran back to the garden behind your house.

“There you are!” Your mother shouted as you came out from around the house. “Where have you been? Look at the state of your dress!” She fussed. “It’s ruined! Do you know how long it took me to sew that?”

“Just make me a normal dress, Mama,” You said. “A plain one I can play in.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said, taking your hand. “I’ll not have my daughter wallowing in the muck like some street urchin. To the bath with you!”

As she dragged you along into the house, your lovely flower crown slipped from your head and floated away on the breeze.

“Oh, Mama, my crown!”

“Leave it,” She said.

“Oh, but it was--” You stopped short before saying a present. You didn’t want your mother asking from whom. You watched as it floated into the road and was trampled by a passerby. Sighing with disappointment, you followed your mother inside.

Geyarajan became your best friend from that day on. You had to be careful, though; you couldn’t go too deep into the forest for fear of dangerous creatures and he couldn’t get too close to the village, or he’d be seen and possibly captured by the townspeople. As such, you could only see each other once a week or so, and on the days you agreed to meet, often you’d sneak out to play for a few hours after bed.

Having a secret friend was thrilling. It made you feel special and important. He’d told you that he hadn’t told his parents about you, either, because he didn’t want them to be mad at him for getting so close to humans. It was as if the pretend kingdom the two of you built together was real, and you were the only two in it.

It didn’t take long at all for you to develop a crush on Geyarajan, and it seemed to be mutual. He always held your hand whenever the two of you walked together and you often gave him quick pecks on the lips to see the surprise and delight on his face. It was the pure, innocent love of childhood, and though your time together was limited, you were both happy.

Of course, secrets are never meant to last.

Time passed. One evening when you were eleven, after you’d snuck out to see him, the two of you were stargazing in a clearing, making up constellations, your fingers intertwined loosely.

“See there,” He said. “That’s the raven. It’s good luck.”

“Who says?” You asked, laughing.

“I say!” Rajan said. “I’m a king, aren’t I?”

“Oh, right,” You replied. “Papa calls that the eagle. And that’s the dog star.”

“Why do they call it the dog star?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “Tell me another one.”

He squinted. “I can’t see it all that well from here. I usually look at the stars from up in the trees. It’s harder to see them all clearly on the ground like this.”

“How high up do you go?”

“The top, obviously,” He said, sitting up and pointing straight up to a nearby oak tree. “The tallest, strongest branch. That’s the best place.”

“I’d be scared to go that high,” You said, shivering a little.

“I could help you,” He said. “I’d fly you up there.”

“Aren’t I too heavy?” You asked him skeptically. “I was the last time you tried to lift me.”

“That was a year ago! I’m much stronger now.” He hopped to his taloned feet and flexed his skinny arms. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Are you sure?” You asked as you took his hand.

“Come on, you trust me, right?”

You straightened up and smiled at him. “Yeah, of course I do.”

He grinned back. “I won’t be able to take off from the ground,” He said. “We’ll have to climb up a little ways so I can do a drop. I’m really good at those.”

You frowned at the thought, but since he knew way more about flying than you did, you didn’t argue. Swallowing down your nervousness, you followed him up the tree.

You hadn’t known how to climb a tree when you first met him; your mother had forbade such things. Geyarajan had decided immediately that it was inappropriate for anyone to be unable to climb a tree and taught you how to do it the second time you met. You got pretty scraped up the first few times, which you had a hard time explaining away. Now, you were an expert. You were even able to keep leaves and dirt off of your nightgown.

Of course, Geyarajan was much faster than you, since he’d been climbing trees before he could even walk. We was already on the branch he planned to launch from, waiting patiently for you to catch up. He wasn’t above heckling you, though.

“Are all humans as slow as you?” He teased. “I could be halfway to the coast by the time you get up here.”

You stopped for a moment to blow a raspberry at him. In the few seconds that you were distracted, you misstepped, your foot sliding out of your evening slipper and catching you off balance.

Geyarajan leapt, reaching out to catch you, but he was too late. You fell straight down, landing on your right leg. It snapped in half upon impact. The pain shot up your body and struck your brain, and you screamed like you never had before. Geyarajan landed next to you, panicking, trying to figure out what to do. You were crying too hard to speak.

“Hold on, Primrose, hold on,” He lifted you as carefully as he could and began to run through the woods. The pain and smell of blood made you violently sick. “I’m taking you home, just hold on.”

“No!” You managed to gasp. “You can’t go there!”

“I won’t be able to stay, but I can get you there, I promise,” He said.

“No!” You said, beginning to struggle, squealing as the movement made the pain worse. “They’ll kill you! You can’t go to the village!”

Geyarajan stopped in his tracks, breathing hard and looking toward the village and back into the forest.

“I’ll get into a lot of trouble, but there’s only one other place I can take you,” He said, sweating and shaking with fear. “Hold on to me. We’ll be there soon.”

What happened next was a blur of pain, color, noise, voices, and a terrible sick feeling throughout your body, the only familiar thing through all of it was the sound of Geyarajan’s voice and his hand holding yours. At some point, you blacked out completely.

You woke up to the sound of screaming. You were lying in the back garden of your own home, a large, grey feather in your hand, and your mother rushing over to you, checking you frantically.

“Oh, god, are you okay?!” She asked. “Where have you been? What happened to you?” She saw your leg and shrieked. “Who did this to you?!”

Her shouting had attracted the attention of several men, all of whom looked tired and held burned out torches. One of them dropped their spent torch and lifted you up, carrying you into the house. There was noise and shouting and confusion all around you, made worse by your mother’s constant shrill crying in the background. You let them do as they will in silence, clutching Geyarajan’s feather.

Your leg hurt, but nowhere as badly as it had before. You looked down and saw to your surprise that the leg had been wrapped set, wrapped in cloth to stem the bleeding, and was in a makeshift splint made of straight wooden rods and vines.

The physician was called and examined your leg. During this time, you learned you’d been missing for four days. The men with torches were part of the search party, tirelessly searching the woods for any trace of you. When they found blood on the grass and a fragment of your clothes, along with several large feathers, they thought some massive monster had gobbled you up.

The physician determined that your leg had been expertly set, however, meaning it was no monster that had taken you. Since you couldn’t remember most of your time missing, you kept silent, which made everyone grim-faced. They assumed the worst and decided someone had taken you and kept you in the woods somewhere, and you were so traumatized by the incident that you’d blocked the entire event out. You couldn’t exactly argue with them, but you knew Rajan would never hurt you. Not that you could tell them that.

The search began anew, only this time it wasn’t retrieval. It was revenge. You wished you could tell them that it wasn’t necessary, you wanted to stop them, but you couldn’t do anything without telling them about Rajan and his people, and you had promised never to do so. So you could only watch anxiously as the townsfolk worked themselves into a froth, looking for a predator that didn’t exist.

Bedridden and helpless to stop the villagers from their crusade, you spent many nights crying and wishing you could see Rajan. It was too dangerous now; you thought you wouldn’t see him for a long time. You were surprised when, a week later, Rajan came straight to your window late one night. He opened it and hopped down.

“Rajan!” You breathed, elated, and reached out your arms to embrace him from the bed. He stayed out of your reach. You couldn’t see his face well in this light, but his body radiated distrust.

“How could you?” He said whispered, pain seeping into his voice. “I thought you were my friend. How could you do this to me?”

You dropped your arms. “Wha… How could I what?”

“You know what!” He retorted angrily, his voice rising in anger. “You told them! You told the humans about us! You told them where to find us!”

“I didn’t!” You replied, stricken. “I would never, you know that! I never told them anything!”

“Liar!” He snapped. “Men came! They set fire to our colony! We have no home now because of you!”

You ignored the pain in your leg and swung around to sit up properly. “I didn’t tell them anything! I don’t even know where your colony is! I’ve never been there!”

“You’re lying! You were there! My parents cared for you, they fixed your leg! This is how you repay their kindness?”

“What?” You replied, confused. “I… no, I… I don’t… I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. The last memory I have before waking up in the garden was you carrying me. We argued because I didn’t want you to come to the village. I was worried you’d get hurt--”

“Stop,” He said, raising a hand. “Enough of this. My parents were right. You can never trust a human.”

“Don’t say that! How could you have so little faith in me? We’ve been friends since we were little! I’d never do anything to put you or your family in danger, you know that! Why would I do that?”

The light from the moon caught his face, and the pain in his eyes stopped your heart.

“You tell me.”

He climbed up onto the windowsill, walked out on the roof, unfurled his wings, and took off. You fell to the ground with a loud thump. Your father came in to find you sobbing in anguish. He lifted you and put you back to bed, petting your hair and telling you it would be alright. But it wouldn’t.

You decided that once you were healed, you’d go and find Rajan and keep protesting your innocence until he believed you. You didn’t count on your parents’ plans.

Another week passed, and your mother came into your room.

“How are you feeling, love?” She asked.

You shrugged your shoulders. You’d been sullen and depressed since Rajan’s visit. Everyone assumed it was because of your disappearance and you made no attempt to correct them. The guilt of his family’s home being destroyed weighed heavily on your mind. If only you hadn’t tried to climb that tree.

“I’m sorry, darling,” She said. “I can’t believe monsters were living right next door to us in the woods. It’s become too dangerous in this place. Look at what they did to you!”

“They helped me!” You shouted. “They’re not monsters!”

Your mother rounded on you, her face pinching in suspicion. “How would you know that? What do you know about them?”

You scowled at her and remained silent.

“I knew you were lying when you said you couldn’t remember anything.” She stood up and looked down her nose at you. “That does it. We’re moving to Dunmountain.”

“What?!” You cried. “No! I don’t want to move!”

“The decision has already been made,” She told you, pulling out your luggage and starting to pack. “Your father and I can’t abide those disgusting creatures living so close.”

“But there are people like them in the city!” You argued.

“There are rules for them there,” Your mother said. “Most of them are ring fighters or laborers. They don’t practically nest in the backyards of decent people.”

“Who said you were decent?” You screamed. “You can’t make me go!”

“Who’s going to stop me?” She shouted back. “Your father has agreed. We’re going!” She threw your bag on the floor next to your bed. “Pack your things yourself!” With that, she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you to weep bitterly into your blanket.

You had no choice. Within the month, you were all packed and in a wagon headed to the city. You had become withdrawn and quiet, unlike the girl you had been before. Your father worried over you, but your mother told you to suck it up and get over it. New city, new life, new start.

She was more right than she knew. In the city, you were a new person. The cheerful child that was friends with everyone she met was gone. You were shy, introverted, and taciturn, only speaking when spoken to. You found it difficult to make friends and were quick to tears.

Your mother, in an effort to desensitize you to “monsters,” took you to the gladiator’s ring and made you watch them fight each other. You hated it; the sight of them viciously attacking each other for no other purpose than to entertain humans made you physically ill.

As you got older, the people of your neighborhood began to call you the monster girl because of your tendency to go to the ring and talk to the fighters. Just talk. Some of them were willing participants, but there were others who were forced to fight. People with debt, criminals, the homeless, the mentally ill; anyone society deemed abnormal. Their jailers seemed to forget that they were still people.

You’d often sit outside of their cells and talk to them, comfort them, even write down messages to give to their loved ones. Your mother despaired of you, and the humans thought you were weird, but the creatures of the fighting ring called you an angel.

One day, when you were nineteen, there was a new arrival at the jail, a young woman with wings and bird feet. When you were told, you immediately went to see her first.

“Hello?” You called softly, tapping gently on one of the bars.

“Who are you?” She asked.

You told her your name. “I come here to talk to the fighters and help them when I can. What’s your name?”

“Aashiyana,” She replied. “You can help me?”

“I can try,” You replied. “Why are you here?”

“I caught a deer in a field near my home,” She said. “It was apparently owned by a nobleman or something. What kind of person owns a deer?”

“People with too much money,” You replied, laughing. “How long is your sentence?”

“Until my fine is up. Six months, I think they said.”

“How much is the fine?”

“300 gold.”

“That’s highway robbery!” You exclaimed. “Let me see what I can work out.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” She said. “This city is stifling. I hate it here.”

“So do I,” You replied, standing. You were about to turn and leave, but you were compelled to ask. “By any chance, do you know a boy named Geyarajan?”

Aashiyana sat up straighter and peered at you. “I did know a boy by that name, yes.”

Your heart hammered in your throat. “Did?”

“He doesn’t go by that name anymore. His name is Gaveshan now.”

“Why did he change his name?” You asked.

“How do you know him?”

“He saved my life years ago. He… was my friend.”

Her eyes widened and jaw dropped. “Are you Primrose?”

Your expression matched hers. “Yes! How did you know about that?”

“We met!” She said, her eyes lighting up. “Your leg was broken and my mother set it. She was the colony’s healer. You stayed in the colony with us until she felt it was safe to move you.”

“I don’t remember,” You told her. “I don’t remember anything. I was with Rajan when I broke my leg, and then I passed out. When I woke up again, I was back home and I’d been missing for four days. I don’t know what happened during that time.”

Aashiyana frowned. “You don’t remember me at all?”

You shook your head sadly. “I’m sorry. What happened to the colony?” You asked her, putting a hand on hers around the bars. “Rajan told me that it was burned, but he didn’t give me any details.”

“Men came out of the forest with torches. They set fire to everything. We had to flee with nothing. Some didn’t make it.”

“Oh, god,” You said, covering your mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t fallen out of the tree…”

“Did you tell the men how to find us?”

“No! I swear I didn’t! I don’t even remember being there!” You said. “I swear, Aashiyana, I swear on my life.”

He deep brown eyes searched yours for a moment, a discerning look on her face, and she said, “I believe you.”

Your face crumpled as the tears began to flow. “Thank you.” You wiped your face on a handkerchief and straightened yourself. “Let me see what I can do for you. I’ll get you out of here.”

“Thank you,” She said.

It took some time, but you managed to make a deal with the judge. It was a lucky thing that your parents were in good standing with the stadium, as your father was a financier, so you were able to pull a few favors. You returned to Aashiyana’s cell three days later and directed the jailor to open the door.

“What’s happened?”

“I’ve made a deal,” You said. “You’re free of the fighting ring, but in exchange, you must work. I’ve made arrangements for you. I’ll tell you about it once we’re in the carriage.”

“Carriage?”

You took her by the arm. “Come on.”

Outside the jail, a carriage was indeed waiting for you. You opened the door and assisted her in getting inside, as the steps weren’t built for her large claws, and got inside after her. The carriage began to move.

“So what deal did you make?” She asked.

“You are to be my personal servant for the remainder of your sentence.”

She balked. “What makes you think I want to be a slave any more than a punching bag?”

“I have no intention of giving you any order,” You told her. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll like you to take me to see Geyarajan. Or Gaveshan, I guess.”

“Do I have to stay with you?” She asked, eyeing you.

“Of course not,” You replied. “You’re free to go as soon as we get out of the city limits, as far as I’m concerned. I have no intention of ordering you around.”

“Can’t you get into trouble for this?”

“Of course. The penalty for assisting a criminal escape is taking their sentence plus five years.”

“If you know that’s going to happen when you come back, why would you do it?” She asked you, horrified.

“Simple. I’m not coming back.”

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woildismyerster · 6 years

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Yoo! Can you write a scenario with Kevin G using nerdy dirty pickup lines on reader and she gets really flustered by them?? Thank you!

THIS WAS SO HARD, AND SO FUN

You were positive that you knew how to draw a graph of the function f(x) = 1/x.

“Y/N, will you come to the board and draw the function?”

You were not positive you knew how to draw the function.

Math was fine. Plugging and chugging was fine, cool, whatever. Doing math at the front of a room full of intelligent people was less fine, since they would notice a mistake you made before you would. The marker squeaked while you drew, but your hand was steady.

“Oof, check out that ass -”

“Kevin,” Norbury scolded.

“- ymptote! Y/N’s form is perfect.” You could hear the smile in Kevin’s voice, but you could also hear the giggles around the room.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in the hopes that it would wipe any embarrassment from your face. If you stood up front too long, it would only seem pathetic. You whirled around, rolling your eyes in a way that was hopefully good-natured, and walked back to your desk.

“Very good,” Norbury called to your back. “Now, let’s talk about finding the limit as the function approaches …”

“It’s for math,” Kevin blurted.

“What is?” When he had appeared at your lunch table, you hadn’t expected that to be the first thing he said. You thought back to math class, but nothing made his words make sense.

“The Mathletes have a meet next week,” he said, holding his hand out like he was calming a horse. “My boys and I will be gone, and I need somebody to text me the notes.”

You bit into the cafeteria pizza, raising your eyebrows at him. “What about Cady Heron? Or you could ask Norbury for the slides.”

“Is that a no?”

“No,” you immediately said. No, if he needed your help, you wouldn’t say no.

“So, if you don’t mind,” he grinned, “Imma need your significant figures.”

You groaned. “I thought we were having an actual conversation.”

“We were! Are!”

“You wrecked it, G.”

“You’re smiling,” he pointed out.

You tried to push your lips over your teeth, but that fizzy feeling in your chest kept bubbling up. That was funny. Funnier than the asymptote thing. “No, I’m not.”

He handed you his phone, rocking back on his heels. “Hit me up, girl.”

“No.” You typed in your number, dreading and looking forward to his text in equal measure.

You flipped through a copy of Les Mis for English class, weighing the pros and cons of skipping the bits on Napoleon. Or, to be more realistic, acknowledging the larger number of cons and trying to figure out if you cared.

You didn’t think you cared enough to read them.

You flipped through the book, searching for the end of the section, but a note dropping on your desk distracted you.

There’s a test in history later. Do you want to borrow my flashcards?

You shot a questioning glance over your shoulder. Kevin held up a stack of notecards, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

You bit your lip. He had already taken the test. Kevin wasn’t the type to cheat - he had never needed to be - so he wouldn’t be giving you the answers. You wouldn’t have wanted them, even if they were up for grabs. But, if he was offering his flashcards, they must be useful for the test.

You nodded back at him, and he passed them up to you.

You gave a soft snort when, between a card on icons and a card on the Protestant Reformation, a slip of paper fell out.

Can I plug my solution into your equation?

You pulled out your phone to fire off a reply, fighting the urge to either laugh or boil over.

Y/N: Tacky.

Kevin: But effective.

Y/N: That’s a no from me.

People slowly filed up the bleachers to take the class picture. You took a spot in the middle, hoping that you would blend in with the rest of the kids. You didn’t want to pose with all of the jocks and preps at the front, but you didn’t want to lurk with the stoners in the back either.

Your eyes closed when a soft punch landed on your shoulder - you instinctively knew who it was. “Please, don’t.”

“Hey, babe.”

“Kevin.”

“What’s your sine?”

You groaned, head dropping.

He hopped from the row behind you to the empty space next to you. “Y/N, how’s it hangin’?”

“Fine,” you huffed.

“You don’t sound fine,” he said. His shoulders were hunched to keep the fabric of his jacket up near his ears, and the way he peered at you made him look peculiarly bird-like. “You sound kind of pissed.”

An unexpected wave of guilt soaked you. “Yeah, no, not pissed. Tired, maybe, but not pissed.”

“Hmm.” He looked up thoughtfully, tapping his foot in an erratic rhythm. “I need to up my game. I need a better line.”

“That’s definitely not it.”

“Gimme a second.”

You waited, a smile creeping at the edge of your lips. “You won’t have anything good enough.”

“Are you looking for something smexy -”

“Smexy?”

“Smart and sexy,” he said with a pleased, smug nod. “Smexy. Pure Kevin G, honey. You dig it?”

“No,” you said.

That didn’t stop him from trying his lines. That didn’t stop you from smiling. It was very possible that, in the middle of reacting to something Kevin said, the school picture wound up catching you mid-grin. For once, you might end up looking happy in the yearbook. Kevin would have a field day.

“Freedom at last,” you sighed. “I can go back to class. You’ve used up weeks of this on today.”

“What do you mean, this?”

You waved a hand at him.

“You just gestured at all of me,” he said, aghast.

You waved again.

“I’ve used up weeks of me on one day?” He was grinning. “I didn’t know there was a limit. The limit does not exist.”

“I can only handle so much,” you pleaded, that smile still firmly in place. “You’ll be the actual death of me.”

“One more,” he said. He grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “I swear, it’s a good one. You’ll love it.”

You sighed. “Hit me.”

“Kinky.” When you rolled your eyes, he was quick to assure you that it wasn’t the line. “No, wait. Okay. Can you integrate my natural log?”

You snorted. “God, Kevin.”

“They’re funny. It’s okay to laugh.”

“If I laugh, it’ll only encourage you,” you said. Granted, the fact that you were breathing seemed like encouragement enough to him, but you still didn’t want to seem too eager.

His smile went a little crooked, a little serious, and you sobered. “Y/N, if you told me to stop - really stop, not in a ‘what a dumb pun’ way - I would. You know that, right?”

You considered. Maybe you had, deep down. That would explain why your heart sank when he asked Cady Heron to join the Mathletes instead of you; why you texted him back without fail; why sometimes the two of you had real conversations.

“Yeah,” you finally said. “Yeah, I know.”

“And?”

You gave a sarcastic laugh. Sarcastic, but you saw the gears turning while he thought through the conversation.

“I’m feeling very encouraged, Y/N,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I have to go to class,” you mumbled. You hopped down the steps, ignoring the buzz in your pocket that was, undoubtedly, something flirty from Kevin. Something that, indubitably, you would respond to in kind. Knowing the truth of it wasn’t even embarrassing anymore. He was the nerdiest kid, but that kind of did it for you.

“Tyler,” you groaned while you shouldered your backpack. “Thirty problems is too many. It’s too hard. I’ll be doing them all night.”

He started to respond, but before he could, Kevin through an arm over his broad shoulders. “Y/N, babe, you don’t need to use math problems as a euphemism for my name. Tyler knows what we’ll be up to tonight.”

You couldn’t help it; you smiled. Kevin was always twisting things you said, but you seldom said things so easy to twist. He smiled back, arm dropping from Tyler’s shoulder to mess with the collar of his shirt.

“Well,” you said in a slow, sweet voice. “It’s a shame I’ll never finish.”

Tyler gave a bark of laughter, and Kevin’s jaw dropped.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “that was way more than a flesh wound.”

You grinned, unrepentant. “Chicken.”

“One of these days, you’ll give in to my ample charms,” he said earnestly. “We’re endgame.”

“One of these days, you’ll actually ask me out,” you replied.

His eyebrows shot up. “I’ve asked you out a million times.”

“No.” You looked at Tyler for support, and his brow furrowed.

“Kev, I think she’s right.” He gave a bewildered laugh, like this was a twist ending he hadn’t expected. “You’ve never actually asked her out. You’re all talk.”

Before Kevin had a chance to say something, or maybe ask you something, you flicked a wave over your shoulder and left.

Too hard. You’d do them all night. You seriously walked right into that one.

In preparation for a test, Norbury had the class rotating through stations, each one with different types of practice problems. You ended up going through the stations with the Mathletes, effectively giving you the best study partners you could ask for. Every subject was covered, every problem was finished, and the class ended with you feeling almost confident about the upcoming test.

“For once,” you teased Kevin, “I’m leaving your company satisfied.”

“I’m not,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Nope. We should date.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “No math jokes?”

“I’m serious.” Kevin shuffled his weight from one foot to another, eager and nervous all at once. “We should go out, all jokes aside.”

“I should ask you out, ‘cause you can’t differentiate,” you said.

“Y/N, that isn’t an answer.”

You grinned. “Wanna couple our equations tonight?”

He looked ready to laugh, but he scowled while he smacked you with his bag. “Y/N, the one time I try to talk to you without math jokes -”

“I sure hope you’re good at algebra,” you crooned, “because you have to replace my X without knowing Y.”

“You Googled these!”

“Kevin,” you said. You grabbed his hand and wound your fingers between his. “Isn’t it annoying when somebody is to busy joking to get things started?”

He groaned. “Imma date you so hard.”

“Good.” You pulled him out into the hall, keeping hold on him. “Because I want to work on you all night.”

He laughed, and you were encouraged.

#mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #kevin gnapoor x reader #kevin g #kevin gnapoor #ally writes

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usunkmyship · 7 years

Text

Question thing kill me now

@simply-one-hell-of-a-url tagged me, thanx they you awkward fuck. (ง •̀_•́)ง Rules: Answer these 92 questions and tag 20 people to answer them too @supernatural-misha-11 @atlantis-ice-42 @sunofhades @kitty-heron I have no friends 1. Drink: rose lemonade  2. Phone call: okay but annoying IF HE FUCKING CRIES THAT HE WANTS YOU BACK  3. Text message: sublime 👌🏻 4. Song you listened to: in too deep, sum 41  5. Time you cried: constantly oh look I’m crying right now HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: DOES THE GINGER CUNT COUNT @supernatural-misha-11 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: nah  8. Been cheated on: DOES THE GINGER CUNT COUNT  9. Lost someone special: hahahahahaha my self esteem  10. Been depressed: ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: nope LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: green , blue , ???? Grey? IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: yeah  16. Fallen out of love: hahaha *cough* ginger cunt *cough* 17. Laughed until you cried: who hasn’t ?  18. Found out someone was talking about you: when aren’t people talking about me I love it cause I’m an ATTENTION WHORE IF YOU HAVENT NOTICED 19. Met someone who changed you: ??? 20. Found out who your friends are: eh they’re all dicks no offence bros GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: all of them  23. Do you have any pets:  they would die BUT MY BFF HAS 2 ADORABLE CATS 24. Do you want to change your name: EH okay so my name is pretentious as fuck so sometimes yes but sometimes no  25. What did you do for your last Birthday: I stayed at home and did nothing again  26. What time did you wake up: ??? 9 ish  27. What were you doing at midnight last night: READING 28. Name something you can’t wait for: college and marvel films and Voltron season 3 idk lots of stuff 29. When was the last time you saw your mum: like 2 minuets ago  30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: okay so wish I’d have gone to this private all girls school where I live cause my school is a piece of shit and now I probably will never make anything of myself  31. What are you listening right now: the voice kids UK there are three amazing girls singing a little mix song  32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yes ??? Wtf whoever made this has a thing about Tom whoever he is ??? That BOI is either lucky or about to be killed  33. Something that is getting on your nerves: THEOS sense of humour BOI please be less funny  34. Most visited Website: Yamam.org 35. Mole/s:nah  36. Mark/s: SCAR ON MA FACE  37. Childhood dream: death  38. Haircolor: brown 39. Long or short hair: mid 40. Do you have a crush on someone:  did idk maybe there was a cute girl at hockey the other day who looked super gay but she’s too old for me -_- 41. What do you like about yourself: ??? Nothing , everything TELL ME IM PRETTY  42. Piercings: non but I want some  43. Bloodtype: idk they don’t tend to tell u that shit in the UK unless you get ill  44. Nickname: Jem , mim, jerimoo jeBourbon biscuit  , jemormon , the list is endless 45. Relationship status: non  46. Zodiac: Capricorn  47. Pronouns: she her  48. Favorite TV Show: Gavin and Stacy ITS A FUCKING CLASSIC ORGINAL JAMES CORDEN FFS 49. Tattoos:non but I want some  50. Right or left hand: RIGHT IS SUPIRIOR 51. Surgery: *surgeon simulator music plays dramatically* 52. Hair dyed in different color: OKAY SO I DID DYED MY HAIR AQUA TODAY  53. Sport: field hockey and dance  54. (question wasn’t here) *X-FILES THEME* 55. Vacation: some where not hot not cold that’s not boring  56. Pair of trainers: ???????? I’d rather wear docs MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: no food it’s discussing the more tasteless the better  58. Drinking: water with 2 (two) ice cubes  59. I’m about to: do nothing with my life again  62. Want: to cry idk?? 63. Get married: yes with my so and if I never achieve that with Theo platonically love you BAE  64. Career: ugh idk ? Museum curation ? Dancer ? WHICH IS BETTER 65. Hugs or kisses:hugs I love hugs I need a hug  66. Lips or eyes: why not both  67. Shorter or taller: TALL PEOPLE ARE GOOD  68. Older or younger: what does this even mean ? 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: stomach ? 71. Sensitive or loud: why not both  72. Hook up or relationship: eww people  73. Troublemaker or hesitant: WHY NOT BOTH …………………………….…. .… ………….. HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: NOPE  75. Drank hard liquor: NOPE  76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: JINKIES MY GLASSES  77. Turned someone down: ye 78. Sex on the first date: nah  79. Broken someone’s heart: ye he left me a voice mail of him crying and we weren’t even really dating we never even kissed  80. Had your heart broken: eh??? Do I have a heart to break ? 81. Been arrested: nah  82. Cried when someone died: does it count if your the one that died????? 83. Fallen for a friend: yes but also https://youtu.be/Nrogx1VH9PU DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: 😂😂😂  85. Miracles: JESUS MY LORD AND SAVIOUR 86. Love at first sight: nah  87. Santa Claus: MMHMM I SAW MUMMY KISSING SANTA CLAWS  88. Kiss on the first date: ? OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: THEO YOU DICKHEAD I LOVE YOU  91. Eye color: jade green  92. Favorite movie: HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2 FIGHT ME ITS THAT GINGER CUNTS FAULT.

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simplyadorkable-blog1 · 8 years

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Season 6, Episode 14 - “The Hike”

Jess and Robby make an unexpected discovery about their relationship while on a hike; Winston plans a party for Aly; Schmidt and Cece fall short of impressing their new neighbors.

“The Hike” opens with Robby at the loft preparing for a hike with Jess, Schmidt continually comparing himself to Andie MacDowell as he eats pasta out of something Jess and Robby made in a clay class—seriously, what the hell is that compartment for?—and Winston announcing that Aly will finally be moving back to LA. Since the loft is falling apart, Cece and Schmidt offer to host a welcome home party at their house. Queue the short intro that makes me wish they would reshoot the original with the expanded cast.

“Hike, hike, baby,” Jess and Robby sing as they make their way to a fork in the trail. Of course they choose the road Jess-traveled because, “Uh, waterfall!” Every sentence that comes out of Robby’s mouth is pure gold. This is pure, unadulterated Robby, straight from the tap. I will not let that line go.

The rest of the gang are getting ready for the party at Cece and Schmidt’s house. In the dining room, Cece and Schmidt set their table and discuss how they are going to handle house rules. Cece suggests that they not have any because all of the cool houses growing up didn’t have rules. I’m going to take a wild guess that Jess’ house was not one of the cool houses. Then again, they grew up in Portland, right? I can’t imagine it being that cool. Chill out, Portlandians, I’m only judging your city based on Portlandia like the rest of America. Schmidt argues that he never went to the cool houses growing up because his only friend was his high school math teacher who ditched him for a guy with a Trans Am. That was probably for the best. Cece feels bad for young Schmidt and he ruins the moment by having an immediate collapse in orgasm.

Meanwhile Nick is helping Winston work out his nerves in another room. Winston is not having any luck. His hands are dripping and his mock greeting for Aly’s mom is a little too comfortable. “Hmm, hmm, not today, honey,” accompanied with double cheek kisses. My brother does the double cheek kiss sometimes and let me tell you it is not the move. His second attempt does not go much better with, “Hey, how are you? I’m Winston, it’s uh, pleasure to do it,” and finally tries, “You’d do well to be friends with me.” I think I’ll start using that last one. Nick encourages him to shake it out and offers to mill about and tell his stories, but not the one about the time he fell asleep in the tub because that’s not a story, even if he did wake up wet. Their second attempted handshake is just as bizarre as the first. Nick describes Winston’s hands as, “dripping wet and now they are piping hot.”

Aly’s sister, Leslie, is the first to show up and she brought the entire family with her. And I truly mean entire, there are so many of them. Did they all drive separately? How much street parking is available in Cece and Schmidt's neighborhood? I assume none now. The sudden influx of guests takes Schmidt by surprise and he starts freaking out, “We don’t have enough china! Or forks! Or prawns! You can’t ask someone to split a prawn.” Cece attempts to get him to chill out to no avail, “We’ll just come in tomorrow with a power washer and hose this whole friggin’ place down!” I haven’t laughed at someone saying friggin’ since middle school, but my Lord, Schmidt cracks me up every friggin’ time. Thankfully Aly arrives shortly after and Winston leads her inside, eyes covering her eyes, to reveal her entire family, not Furguson in a tuxedo. Lowkey upset we didn’t get to see that, that would have been so cute. Aly is of course pissed, not even Winston’s impression of her surprised face can cheer her up.

Back on the trail, Jess and Robby are lost. “Why did you let me chase a waterfall, you know what TLC says!” Jess yells at Robby. She is upset, lost, and hungry and doesn’t even have anything to eat because they both ate the peanuts and chocolate out of their trail mix and are left with the gross raisins. Jess, exhausted, wants to head back before it gets dark. When the pair turn to leave, Robby runs into a tree, knocks off his glasses, steps on them, kneels down to search for them, and knocks Jess over causing her to hurt her ankle, all in one swift move.

Aly tells Winston that her family drives her crazy. He reassures her that she has back up now, even though he let her down in that mix-double tournament. He asks her for what he needs to know to deal with her family so he can write it down in his phone. Too bad his touch ID keeps messing up which is all too real so I’m glad we are switched to Nick and his attempt to tell the bathtub story to one of Aly’s relatives. Cece and Schmidt are holed up in the kitchen, worried about the state of their house. It’s clear they are losing control since someone took a shower in the bathroom without soap or towels, and they are forced to boil up barley to feed their guests.

Nick’s storytelling quickly derails. “And I saw with my own eyes, one day Winston saved those kids from a burning building including a little boy. A little boy who’s dad left when he was young, named Wheelchair Timmy. Wheelchair Timmy was a heavy set boy, ginger, black eyes. He grabs the kid and the chair, lifts him up above his head so that the fire doesn’t burn this little heavyset boy. That’s the power of adrenalin.” A relative asks, “What happened to Timmy?” “Timmy, he’s dead.” “What?” Another guest questions. “He’s alive. I’m Timmy. Look at me now. Because of Winston, I’m telling you this story.” Nick crashes and burns before our very eyes. When the relative points out that he’s Nick, he immediately flees the situation. As Nick struggles, Aly and Leslie’s conversation turns into a full-out sibling argument complete with teasing and a mean robot impression. Aly notices that Winston saw their fight and runs off in embarrassment.

Unfortunately for Jess and Robby, it begins to thunder, spooking Robby. They quickly hobble to a nearby cave for shelter. Nothing good happens in a cave, I cannot emphasize that enough. Jess asks Robby if he thinks it’s not good how similar they are to which Robby responds, “I don’t know. My great uncle, Shep Wallingford, used to say if you buy the horse, you see in the mirror.” In a weird way this makes sense. Jess nods in agreement and tells Robby that she has Wallingford’s in her family as well, out near Boston. Robby’s Wallingford relatives are from Newburyport and known for making women’s watches. Though he doesn’t even need to tell Jess that part because she finishes that sentence for him and the pair sing the jingle, “Wallingford’s watches, cause the time is now, and the look is wow!” Jess puts together that they are related. I wasn’t completely blown away, but I think it’s hilarious that being related was the way the writers chose to break these two up. May as well go all in. They compare their families and figure out that they share an Uncle Tony—the one with long fingernails and always wears a whistle around his neck—making them third cousins. Robby pointing out that at least they’re not second cousins is so Karen making out with her cousin at Cady Heron’s Halloween party.

Fortunately Cece and Schmidt are not cousins, but unfortunately they have retreated to their garage to escape their out of control party. Before they can make their time worth their while, Winston interrupts them as he searches for Aly and asks if they’ve seen a kid in a wheelchair. “It was me,” Nick startles the trio, suddenly appearing in the car. Enter Aly with the line we’ve been thinking for six seasons, “Are you guys ever not together?” Schmidt simply answers, “Rarely,” in a put-off tone, but didn’t get just make the guys get a scrotum waxing? Anyways, Cece and Schmidt get into the car in the garage of their own home to give Winston and Aly a moment alone to talk. Aly explains that she’s embarrassed he saw that side of her and if he wants to run for the hill, she understands. She returns inside the house before he can respond. Meanwhile inside the car, Schmidt notices that the car’s running and asks Nick how long he’s been in there. In Nick’s defense, he was cold. But really, how long?

“Did you ever go to one of those big Wallingford family cookouts?” Jess continues to question Robby in the cave. “Just one, in ’92. I remember they had a really competitive three legged race. They paired me up with a little boy who had a helmet on, his skin was so translucent, it was like he was a jellyfish.” “Did he play an imaginary trombone?” She asks, knowing the answer. “Yeah, he kept saying, “it’s better to be safe than speedy.”” Robby’s impression is hands down one of the funniest parts of this episode. And of course that little boy was Jess. Yeah, Jess’ house was definitely not one of the cool ones. Jess wishes to be excluded from this, “I don’t want to die with my cousin-lover in a cave,” narrative and tells Robby she’s going to get on his back so they can get back to his car. She gives him her glasses since he still can’t see and of course they have the same prescription. Not to mention, their glasses are identical.

We near the dramatic conclusion back at Aly’s welcome home party. Aly apologizes to her sister and Winston gets on a table. He tells everyone how weird he is including the fact he has inside jokes with his cat, he is a member of the Puzzling Guild of North America, how he shaves his face cold and brushes his teeth hot, and how on one very late and very desperate night he used Furguson’s cat box as his own box, and of course that he once fell asleep in a bathtub. This draws raucous laughter from himself and Aly only. Nick mentions that maybe he needs to hear it again. Winston finishes his speech with, “So who cares if you’re crazy? I don’t care. I’m crazy too. Watch this. I’m going to put a carrot behind my ear like a bunny reporter and I’m gonna do this dance I’ve been working on for five years.” It’s at this time that Aly’s parents make themselves known. Thankfully they are appreciative of how much he loves their daughter and leave Winston and Aly to have a sweet kiss.

Their moment is interrupted by the police knocking at the door. Cece and Schmidt play dumb and Nick asks why they’re acting like they’re in a porno. The couple clearly did not take into account that Winston and Aly are police officers. They notice Winston and Aly right away and are invited to join the party causing Schmidt to take the law into his own hands. “Shoes off, coasters down!” He shouts to the room.

Robby drops off Jess at the party. He makes sure that they are definitely broken up and tries to give Jess her glasses back. She lets him keep them and says a final, “I’ll see you around.” Robby tries to get in one last awkward joke with, “Maybe at the next family reu—” Jess cuts him off with a “too soon” and heads inside. Schmidt answers the door to see a filthy Jessica Day. She tells them him and Cece that she and Robby broke up in a cave. Cece hugs her and goes to get her wine while Schmidt goes to get her paper towels. As they leave, Nick approaches her. Jess reminds us that she’s still starving and all she has is a bag of gross raisins. “Gross raisins? Are you kidding me? Raisins are the best. I love raisins.” There’s a Raisin joke here somewhere. “Of course you do.” Jess laughs. “Yeah, sometimes I just tuck ’em in my cheek, and I go about my day, so if I ever need the flavor of raisins, I already got it.” Jess can’t imagine what it’s like to need the flavor of raisins, but she gives him her bag and tells him to go nuts anyways. “Go raisins. You said, “Go nuts,” I said, “Go raisins.”” This moment is just too innocent and endearing. They are made for each other.

Originally Aired 1/24/2017

#New Girl #Season 6 Episode 14 #The Hike #Recap #Breakdown #Spoilers #Zooey Deschanel #Jake Johnson #Nelson Franklin #Hannah Simone #Max Greenfield #Lamorne Morris #Nasim Pedrad #Episodes #simplyadorkable

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night-mtg · 7 years

Text

Sirus’ Origin: Crimson Honour

Run. Just run.

Don’t stop for anything. Not for blood, not to rest. Nothing!

Can’t stop. Not now. If I do, they’ll take me... Like my home village did Mother and Father so long ago.

OW!

Crap! Got a cramp! Great timing that. Gotta hide... There!

Sirus ducked behind a tree, gasping for breath. He peered from behind, watching a group of well-armed cathars speed by on horseback. He sighed, rubbing his left leg. Despite the over 200 years of experience, he still wasn’t used to long distance running.

“Damned cathars... Can’t leave me alone for more than a week. Then again...” He smirked. “I wouldn’t either.”

A few more minutes passed. Once again, Sirus looked from behind his tree. He sighed with great relief. Nothing and no-one in sight. He could get away easily and get back to the hideout without the risk of being killed. At least, that would’ve been the case had one cathar, a recruit lagging behind, not strode up right in front of him. He cursed under his breath, wiping a strand of black hair from his eyes. The cathar glared at him, taking out a crossbow.

“You move, I shoot.”

Sirus rolled his eyes. “Well that’s not a very creative threat, now is it? You lot really need to change it up every now and again to keep me terrified. I mean, you’re the fifth one to say that today. and I was bored by the second time.” Wisps of red started to form around Sirus’ hands.

The cathar pulled back his crossbow, training it on the vampire. “I’m warning you!”

He had failed to notice the red cloud leaking from Sirus’ hands up until that point. “What the-?” His question was interrupted by the feeling of his very soul being sucked out. The cathar struggled, firing the crossbow bolt into a tree, before falling to the ground, dead. Sirus chuckled.

“Idiots... Tasty, though.”

He beckoned at the cloud. It shuddered before being sucked back into his hand. The cathar had little knowledge of the major detail of what made Sirus a threat: his sangromancy. A bit of blood and mana, he could create a deadly red mist that, should it be necessary, drain the life force from any unfortunate soul caught in it. The catch was if it wasn’t reabsorbed, then it would dissipate. Let alone the cumulative effect of using the mist at all Too much use, and he risked exsanguination...

“ Stupider than simply biting them, but it gives me access to more victims at once...”

The sound of hooves pounding against the ground snapped Sirus from his thoughts. He turned and ran like hell, not wanting to get caught. After a bit of running, he found it: an abandoned fortress, formerly under the control of the Voldarens. The Falkenraths had since taken over for their own purposes in order to plan for the reclamation of Castle Falkenrath from the ever annoying church. He knew what his task was: whenever these meetings took place, he was to help guard the fortress. He thought he heard the sound of a twig snapping, but calmed down when he saw nothing. The droning of the Falkenraths inside failed to drown out the new sounds of a few cultists praying to demons of old.

Madness. Unadulterated madness. Makes the Emrakul shit and what happened with Markov’s pet project look sane.

Sirus drew his weapon: Bloody Glory, an iron broadsword that he’d been using for a long time. He’d forgotten how long he had it, or when he’d last sharpened it, but it did its job well enough.

The sound of snapping twigs confirmed what he had brushed off: there was someone else here.

“WHO GOES THERE?!”

No one replied.

“I KNOW YOU’RE THERE! SHOW YOURSELF!”

A nearby bush rustled, as a young man and woman emerged from behind it. The man had short scruffy black hair and simple clothing, but not anything native to Innistrad. The woman seemed to sparkle with the moonlight, even in the shade. Sirus snarled.

“Who are you?”

The man was taken aback by the vampire’s anger. “Whoa! Hey now. No need to be angry. Just calm down.”

The woman, however, smirked. “You don’t look so tough.”

Sirus glared at her. The man elbowed the woman in the ribs. “Altea, we don’t need him going off at as. If he does...”

“If he does, I’ll kick his ass,” she interrupted.

Sirus growled, lunging at the woman, whose name he now knew was Altea. “For your insolence, I’ll have your head.”

The man intercepted Sirus’ blow with his own sword, his eyes ablaze. “We don’t want trouble. Just. Calm. Down. Or it won’t be her head being taken.”

Sirus’ eyes glowed a dull red. “Fine...”

A hiss echoed throughout the area. The man was surprised. “What in the multiverse?”

Sirus didn’t know what this newcomer was on about, but he knew that hiss. “Voldarens... A lot of them.”

Altea laughed. “Perfect. New training targets.”

The man muttered, his eyebrows furrowing. “Great... Hate those uppity bastards. And Altea, I don’t think you could take on an army’s worth of Voldarens. Know somewhere safe?” He turned to Sirus. The vampire, taken aback by the fact they wanted his help, thought about it.

“Yeah. I know a place. Shadowgrange. Not too far. Come on.”

For the second time that night, Sirus ran for his life. His heart was pounding, his legs were burning, but he couldn’t stop. Not if he wanted to see the next sunset. The man and his partner followed close behind, the latter taunting the Voldarens. The small group was joined by a second man, who seemed to pop in out of nowhere. Sirus’ jaw dropped.

“Where the hell did you come from?!”

The first man looked to the second. “Ah, Jorge. Good to see you again.”

Jorge looked at his friend. “Same with you, Lotran. What exactly are we running from?”

“A hefty number of Voldarens.”

Jorge scowled. “Them again?”

Lotran nodded. “They always seem to know where we are when we come here.” Sirus was thoroughly baffled. He had no memory of seeing any of these people before, and yet they knew of the Voldarens and how much of a threat they posed.

Forget it, he thought. I’ll ask when we reach Shadowgrange.

When the quartet arrived in the village, they were all panting heavily. The townsfolk were, for the most part, able to ignore them. But what none of them knew was that one man was hiding. Watching. Waiting...

Sirus looked at the three strangers. “Ok. Now I want answers. Where did you-”

Lotran interrupted him. “Thank you for that. Hey, I never asked. Who are you?”

The vampire smirked. “I’m Sirus. Sirus Falkenrath.”

“Ah. Well, again. thank you, Sirus.”

Sirus was still curious about where these people came from. Altea looked at Jorge. “Do you think the Gods would be able to do anything here?”

Sirus looked at the woman. “Gods?”

“Altea, I don’t think the Gods have any influence outside of Theros.”

Altea frowned. Sirus had grown more confused.

“Theros? What are you on about?!”

Lotran smiled at the vampire. “You’ve never seen or heard of a planeswalker before?”

“Planes-what?!” Sirus’ curiosity was well and truly peaked. Lotran laughed at the confusion in his response.

“Planeswalker. You know, people who can traverse the empty space between worlds to go from one to another. All three of us are, in fact” The other two nodded, then went back on with their chat.

“I see. So you can go to other worlds. I don’t know whether to envy you for such a unique skill, or pity you as you can never really settle down into a normal life.”

Lotran chuckled. “I never said it was an easy life, did I?”

THUNK! THUD!

Screams echoed around the village as they watched a man on a balcony crash to the ground, a crossbow bolt sticking from his head. The four looked in the direction the bolt came from, Sirus locking eyes with the possible killer. The green eyes had a craziness about them. A familiar craziness...

“Lucius...”

Sirus only had time to say this as, with another THUNK!, a bolt found its mark in Sirus’ stomach. The others looked at him, each a little concerned. Sirus closed his eyes, thinking that he was about to embrace death as though it were a long lost lover. But, he had no such luck. Instead, it felt as though his entire being was pulled apart, atoms evaporating, cells vanishing into smoke, and a great burning sensation coursing through what remained of him. Sirus bellowed, but nothing heard his screams.

After what felt like hours, Sirus opened his eyes once more. He was somewhere he didn’t recognise. Great trees surrounded him, the ground thick with undergrowth. The only thing he knew was he was in a sort of forest. But... Where?

A pair of strange creatures, one male and one female, that looked like a mix of man and cat answered his question... Well, sort of.

“You trespass in the Anima’s land, strange one.”

“Anima? What are you on about?”

“Hazeer, he’s clearly not Nayan. He doesn’t know what you mean by the ‘Anima’.”

“All should know, Mair, whether they’re from Naya or Esper.”

“Esper? Naya? I’m... Very confused.”

The male scruffed Sirus. “Smart guy, eh? Let’s see you be smart when I throw you to a God!”

“Hey! Get off!”

The female looked concerned. “Hazeer... Leave him alone. The boy must be terrified.”

At least she makes sense, Sirus thought. Hazeer snarled, raising Sirus. The vampire thrashed about, frantically unleashing his sangromantic mist in the process. Hazeer laughed, then choked, then screamed, then went silent as he fell to the ground, releasing his grip on Sirus. The female panicked, then looked at Sirus. Judging by the frantic motions of his headand the look on his face, he was incredibly lost, scared, and confused. She took pity on him. Mair approached him. Sirus backed away.

“Please... Don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Why would I?” She placed a paw on Sirus’ shoulder. “I won’t hurt you. Just trust me on this. My name, as you heard him say, is Mair. I’m a mystic. Who are you?”

“...” “Come on. Don’t be afraid.”

“... Sirus.”

“There. That wasn’t hard, was it?”

Sirus shook his head. He still didn’t know where he was, or what in the Heron’s name he was looking at, but it seemed logical to just shake his head.

“Good. Now, how about I take you to the tribe? The other leonin in particular will be most intrigued.” She started to walk away.

Leonin, eh? Probably what the species calls themselves, Sirus thought as he followed Mair deeper into the forest.

#fanwalker #mtg #fanfic #sirus falkenrath

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