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moiraineswife · 2 years

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Cat Burglar - A Lan & Moiraine Fic

I MADE AN ATTEMPT AT PRODUCING FLUFF.

Title: Cat Burglar

Warnings: NO warnings for once. Softness.

Summary: Moiraine is having a rough time, so Lan steps up as a good Warder should to provide her some comfort, unorthodox though it may appear. Desperate times call for desperate measures...

Teaser: 'The cat nestled in Moiraine’s lap was still as content to stay snuggled on her knee as it had when it had first jumped onto her several hours ago. It was a surprisingly large thing, given that she suspected it was stray, mostly orange, with some spots of black she was unsure were fur or dirt, it was difficult to determine. Its large size seemed necessary to contain its heart, given the intensity of its purring, which it had not stopped since it had trotted into the room as if it had owned it.'

Link: AO3 or Read Below:

The cat nestled in Moiraine’s lap was still as content to stay snuggled on her knee as it had when it had first jumped onto her several hours ago. It was a surprisingly large thing, given that she suspected it was stray, mostly orange, with some spots of black she was unsure were fur or dirt, it was difficult to determine. Its large size seemed necessary to contain its heart, given the intensity of its purring, which it had not stopped since it had trotted into the room as if it had owned it.

Today had been a bad day. She’d barely slept, relentless nightmares, one after the other, no matter how often she woke, or what she tried to keep them at bay. When her breakfast had been delivered by her servant, she’d left it outside her door, too nauseous and unsettled to contemplate eating it. Though she had tried to get work done, she’d mostly found herself staring blankly at the stone wall opposite, thoughts swirling like the last dregs of dirty bathwater circling the drain.

Having the comforting, warm pressure of a living body nestled against hers was more of a relief than she ever thought it could be. One hand tickled the cat absently behind an ear, and it enthusiastically butted its head into the touch, as though it had been as desperate for this contact as she had.

It was such a simple thing, to make her feel so much better. Foolish, too, she thought to herself, that this should help her when all else had failed. Yet it had reminded her that the world was both bigger and smaller than the pain she was experiencing. Everything was going on, as she sat here in her suffering, and there were still small, innocent, helpless creatures who needed her to stop this world falling into darkness.

She looked up with a slight start as the door opened and Lan entered the room with a tray of food and tea. He seemed to think that if he did not bring her something to eat, and then sit to eat with her, that she would simply waste away. Perhaps he had a point, she allowed, as she reached for the tea he had brought her and sipped delicately at it while he laid out the plates on the small table beside her. She gave him a small, grateful smile. He deserved better than this, being reduced to a manservant for a broken former noble, fetching her tea and snacks like a butler. Yet he did it with the same adoration and dedication with which he guarded her in battle facing down a trolloc army. She loved him for that, and for so much more besides that she could never properly convey to him.

As they began to eat, she noted that his eyes were watering, and he sneezed a few times, though with a valiant effort at hiding it.

Smiling thinly, suspicion solidifying into near certainty, she took a sip of her tea then said mildly, “You should really speak to Nynaeve about those allergies of yours, Lan, she will probably be able to give you something for them.”

He grunted noncommittally, as was his usual response to any suggestion he see to his own needs instead of her own. But she saw him smile into his soup as he took another spoonful of it.

The two of them sat in quiet companionship, feeling connected in spite of their silent bond, the only sound in the room the continued purring of the ginger cat on Moiraine’s knee.

***

Cats liked Moiraine. Lan had learned that early in to their partnership. Whenever they stopped at an inn, or took shelter in a barn, any cats that lurked within the shadows would emerge and seek her out, as though she had bidden them with the Power to do so. He’d watched feral tom cats roll on their backs like sleepy hounds at their master’s feet, and terrified alleycats become like playful kittens before her. She confessed she had always had this gift, even before she knew that she could channel, it had simply intensified as she’d gotten older.

Around the same time he’d discovered that cats were drawn to Moiraine as bees were to flowers, he’d found something out about himself, too. He was deathly allergic to the things. Being around one for more than a few minutes had him sneezing as though he was ill with fever, and coughing fit to hack up a lung or two. His eyes would stream, his throat would itch, and his body would do just about anything to encourage him to get away from them with great haste.

Early on in their bond, Moiraine had found this intensely amusing. Their first night at the inn, she had charmed the chef’s fat black and white cat with a weave and had it sleep on his head. He’d barely been able to see out of his eyes when he woke up, and had wheezed so badly for breath he’d woken his Aes Sedai in the early hours of the morning. At that point, he had also found the situation far more amusing, as it transpired that an allergic response was something that transferred across the bond.

Moiraine had given him a look through wide, streaming eyes, that said quite plainly she was seriously considering stabbing him through the heart with his own sword just to rid herself of his affliction. In mild fear for his own life, he had delicately suggested that perhaps she could try a weave or two to spare them this problem.

Thus had begun a small project for her, as they had travelled. If there had been anything resembling a library, she had visited her Brown sisters and attempted to discover knowledge of something that could help them. In the end, frustrated and in apparently dire need of some affection from the flea-infested felines that kept seeking her out, in spite of how they made her sneeze, she had simply created her own. He still teased her about this, from time to time, that when they wrote the history and accomplishments of the great Moiraine Sedai, the first note in the recordings of weaves she had created would be one to deal with sniffles brought on by cat fur.

Still, it had served them well in many cases, and he’d heard that their Yellow Sisters had even managed to adapt and improve it to cleanse not only the air a person breathed, but the air in their lungs and body, allowing them to cleanse it of any toxins. Lan suspected that, though Moiraine would die before she willingly admitted it to another soul, the fact it allowed her to befriend cats in every town once more was still the best thing about it, as far as she was concerned.

Lan didn’t have Moiraine’s odd gift to attract the world’s most standoffish and aloof animals, but he did have a coin purse, and the ability to communicate with Fal Dara’s street kids, which proved almost as effective. The wide-eyed child had looked at him as though afraid he was trying to deceive her then, when his hard face and stern eyes had convinced her he was serious, as though he was simply mad. Mad or not, he had given her good coin, and a hot bun from a street vendor, and this was apparently enough for her to point him in the direction of the local street cats and give some opinions on the ones least likely to claw his face from his skull for looking at them.

What he did not have, unfortunately, was Moiraine’s weave to help deal with his allergies.

So it was that as he walked through Fal Dara’s streets, his eyes streamed, his chest convulsed with his coughing, and his mouth and throat tickled as though he was trying to eat a fistful of feathers. In spite of all of that, he carried his prize as proudly as he would have carried the head of a slain trolloc warchief. The large, confused ginger cat had apparently given up the notion that it could escape him now, and simply sat limp and deeply befuddled in his iron grip.

Lan carried it back to the royal chambers, where he and Moiraine had been given quarters. As they drew nearer he paused a moment, just out of earshot of her door, and gave the cat a stern look. As much as he could with red-rimmed, watering eyes.

“She’s having a hard time at the moment,” he informed the cat, as though it could understand and, even more unlikely, as though it actually cared. It blinked at him, which was enough encouragement to continue, “You’ll make her feel better,” he ordered it, trying to keep the instinctive ‘or else’ threat out of his tone, but not entirely succeeding.

Light, I need to sleep, he thought vaguely as he realised what he was doing, and hoped no-one had noticed him. Fortunately the corridor seemed empty. Moiraine had developed a new power, since the Eye, the ability to keep others away. No-one wanted to go near the unfortunate Aes Sedai who could no longer channel, and the halls were eerily silent and haunted. Like a graveyard.

Walking on silent feet to her door, slightly ajar, he placed the cat down carefully then gave it a slight shoo towards her. He needn’t have bothered. It shook itself free of the indignity of being carried by him, then became aware that it was within Moiraine’s aura. It chirped eagerly, tail going up with interest, then it trotted straight into her room, making an obvious beeline for her.

Lan paused outside, fighting down another sneezing fit so as not to alert Moiraine of his part in this. Listening, he heard her voice for the first time that day give a quiet, “Hello there,” as the cat meowed for her attention.

Smiling to himself, he heard the purring start, and the smile in Moiraine’s voice was obvious as she murmured, “What a beautiful young man.”

Satisfied, he slipped off towards the kitchens to fetch Moiraine something to eat, hopeful that she would take it now, and might even manage a few words for him.

#wheel of time #wot on prime #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran #molan #lan x moiraine #text post tag #long post #wot fic #molan fic #my fic #lan is best warder #ONCE AGAIN I FORGOT TO POST TO TUMBLR #OOPSY DAISY

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supafat7 · 2 years

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Here's a piece I wrote a couple years ago. It's mostly slow burn turned spicy. Reader is thin, female identifying feeder

When I left this morning, Ali was complaining of a sore throat. I left him a thermos of tea with honey before I kissed him goodbye.

When I returned in the evening, his voice resembled a quiet, creaking branch in the wind. I couldn't even hear him call a greeting when I entered the house. Kicking off my icy boots, I moved to the kitchen to drop off some $200 worth of groceries. Greedily, I dreamed about how long they would last before they all disappeared down Ali's throat. A week? Five days? Although, with him feeling under the weather, the gastric parade would have to wait.

In the bedroom, I replaced my frosted winter garb with a tank top and warm sweats.

"Hey, baby," I crooned toward the bed.

I glimpsed Ali eyeing my pale skin hungrily. I leant over the bed and kissed his forehead--he was sweating. A large hand

wrapped around my wrist while another landed on my shoulder. I smiled, shifted, draped myself over my huge man so we were face to face. Nowadays, his belly was so big that I could lie entirely on top of it. His arms enveloped me and pressed me against his hot skin. I touched his black stubble--we shaved yesterday.

He croaked "Work?"

"It was pretty boring. I had to talk on the phone a lot. And it's freezing outside! There's like a foot and a half of snow predicted for tonight."

He squeezed me to his breast, and his playful eyes glinted, half open. "We're warm," he puffed, "together, in here."

"We are." I laid my head on his cushioned collarbone. His breathing rocked us both for a moment, heavy breaths for a heavy body. "Want dinner?"

"Yes, I--" but he was interrupted by a coughing fit. The hacking made his whole body seem to shrink and expand, and his belly jiggled from head to calf, like waves in bathwater. I sat up.

"Poor thing. You need some more tea."

Dinner was made in a stew pot fit to feed a large family, or one Ali. A hearty soup of potatoes, cheeses, cream, and spinach, topped with loads of bacon. As Ali sipped his tea, I placed the pot on his shelf of a chest. I don't bother using real dishes for him anymore, but I had prepared a bowl for myself. We ate together in silence--or rather, without speaking. Ali slurped and chewed and smacked and gasped for air, even moaned once, and the soup quickly vanished.

One does not reach eight hundred pounds without huge portions. Actually, as of six days ago, he was 834, and damn did it cling to him good. When standing, his belly sloped out from above his hips and hung only a few inches above his feet. His arms protruded outward due to the enormous breasts beneath them. All that fat slouched along his sides, forming multiple lovehandles, and hung in hefty bundles off his back. My favorite, his upper arms, were bigger around than my hips-- they stuck out like overstuffed waterwings. We struggled to extract him from the bed for the weigh-in, because he could no longer roll over. Instead, he lied flat (his face was nearly engulfed by his man boobs) and got his feet underneath his knees, then pushed his fat arse with all his strength to the bedside. Repeat this three times, and we were left with an exhausted Ali wheezing furiously as he sat, bent over. His belly grazed the floor, and his fat feet curled and rested on their outside edges, as if touching the ground were unnatural to them--an artefact of how little he walked anymore. He huffed and sweated, begged for a break, but I reminded him that the worst was yet to come. Maliciously, I had placed the scale next to the doorway, maybe 12 feet from the bed's edge. I grabbed both his hands and heaved backward. He couldn't lean forward too far due to his obtrusive gut, but I managed to bring him to his pudgy feet. When he finally walked, his steps were quite useless. He moved side to side more than he moved forward. Pock-marked thighs forced his feet far apart, and his enormous fat apron flapped with every step. He strength quickly sapped away. To gain momentum, he swung his arms nearly straight out from his sides. He wheezed hard, a pitchy wheeze akin to a squealing pig. His bare feet pushed into the carpet clumsily. He watched the scale approach with desperation, and every moment of agony pumped his cock with hot blood. He was wet with precum before he even stepped onto the cold, silicon surface, and I was wet too.

I reminisced about that moment dreamily as I listened to him eat. He ate like a pig. When he was done, I wiped him down, chided him for being so messy. He just smiled. I placed a hand on his gut-shelf. He took it and kissed it, and my strict façade melted into amusement. His brown eyes gleamed, and my clit jump-started. I ignored it though--Ali likely did not feel well enough for any shenanigans. I flicked the lights off and snuggled into bed. I lied beside him, in the crook of his arm, and we watched TV for a while. At some point, snow started to fall in the silent darkness outside. Ali coughed hard and moaned woefully.

"Mnn.. I feel like shit."

"I'm sorry babe." I repositioned my chin on his chest to see his face. He wasn't looking at me. His eyes and stubble glistened in the light of the TV. He rubbed my back, and I felt a jolt of pleasure in my clit again. Not wanting to initiate anything, I buried my face in his pillowy breast. However...I couldn't resist planting little kisses on his soft skin, tracing up his stretch marks. Then I nuzzled his black chest hair. I looked up at him again, and this time he was looking back at me.

"You're cute," he teased.

I scoffed, feigning offense. I couldn't resist the urge building inside me, and I slid a leg up over his belly. "Do you feel better?"

"Hmm... maybe." His squinted suspiciously, but he smirk spoke delight. He pet the back of my head, then pulled me in for a kiss. My body lit up with pleasure. We kissed deeply, deeply, silky lips sliding together and tongues tentatively poking around. He smelled of the soup and of clean sweat, and his stubble brushed against my face. He slid his hand down my back, into my tanktop, and reached around to my breasts to finger my nipple delicately. My chest blossomed into his touch. He pinched, and I flinched with surprise and pleasure. He knew which buttons to press.

His other hand reached down to my leg, still overlaid on his belly apron, so I straddled him, sinking deeply into his flesh. My thighs were nearly hidden between his moobs and belly rolls. I slowly pulled my tanktop off. Before I had it over my head, I felt his cold hands clutch my rib cage, stroke my sides, and trace my thighs. He was gazing at me, entranced. My own hand wandered over my sweats to my clit and pressed hard. Ali's grip wrapped around my ass and pulled me forward, as if to encourage my masturbation, so I thrust against my hand with closed eyes. He massaged my inner thighs, teasing my labia.

I looked down at him. I pleaded, hesitant, "I want to...to get under there. I want to feel how hard you are."

I turned around, into reverse cowgirl, and searched under his belly for his boner. More than half of my arm disappeared below his pliant flesh, under which my hand fumbled until it located the solid cock. It throbbed in my grip and hardened further, and Ali let out a needy moan. I leaned forward to gain torque--giving a handjob under his belly is no easy feat--and Ali rubbed my pussy through my sweats. I shuddered, sighed, pulled him harder until I felt him buck, but I didn't let him come.

I climbed off and slid off my pants. I pushed his huge belly to one side and wriggled my way underneath the rest of it, until I felt my thigh brush against the head of his penis. Ali pulled back as much of his weight as he could. A team effort allowed me to reach down and position his cock against my slippery, warm labia. I toyed with the head of his penis, pushing it in and out, until Ali became quite needy. Then I slowly slid him into me with a quiet moan. We rocked together, his cock pressing against my G-spot, faster and deeper until Ali wheezed and jerked, filling me with his warmth. Thank god for IUDs.

I crawled out from below his girth and straddled his gut once again. He slid a finger under my clit, then two more, and rubbed as I humped. I held onto his lovehandles for dear life as I rubbed against his hand. His fingers became more slick and slippery, and his other hand slapped my ass. He rubbed and I bucked until I came loudly. My stringy fluids covered his fingers, which he promptly sucked off. He pulled me up over his face and swiped his flat tongue over and into my pussy, licking off the mixture of our cum. A good pig cleans his plate.

Three days later, snow flurried down in the white morning light. I was snuggled in the crook of his arm again, coughing, sick with his cold.

#ssbhm #immobile fat #extreme weight gain

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maidleviathan · 3 years

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I had a seizure this morning and now feel like crap so please take these short hcs of the Obey Me boys trying to help (this is my desperate bid to comfort myself ok leave me alone)

Lucifer

- Looks calm but absolutely panics. He just sees your eyes roll up into your head and you drop without warning, and for a horrible second he thinks you died

- Is smart enough not to grab you while you're seizing and just kneels beside you as it plays out

- When you resurface he scolds you in typical angry protective mama Luci fashion, asking if you're alright, angry that you worried him but so relieved that you don't seem to be injured

- Does some research afterwards and learns how best to help you if it happens again. Is much calmer the second time, and if it's not too violent, will hold your hand until you come back

Mammon

- Yes he's the one that cries, what about it?

- Listen. He loves you a lot, ok? Watching you suddenly lose consciousness and start, quote, "thrashin' around like that!" made him think you were doing death throes

- When you come to he's bawling, a total mess, hollering for his brothers (*cough* Lucifer) to come help you and begging you not to die

- Is clingy for DAYS afterwards, practically hovering over you and insistently holding your hand any chance he gets. Refuses to let you out of his sight and even spends the night in your room

- Never really gets used to your seizures and always panics a little when it happens. Is always a bit misty eyed at the end, because he really fucking loves you and would be devastated if you died on him! So no dying, ok?!

- Makes you promise not to die on him 🥺

Leviathan

- The first time it happens you two are squirreled away in his room, playing some new video game that he'd been eager to get his hands on. You suddenly get a really terrible hot flash and your whole head starts tingling, and you barely have time to warn him. "Levi, I'm gonna-" and that's all the further you get before you're slumping over

- You land semi on his shoulder, semi in his lap, and he jerks his arm away all confused, demanding why you're getting all touchy all of a sudden!

- Then notices that you're seizing and freezes on the spot. He just completely shuts down. Leviathan.exe has stopped working. Kind of blindly staring at you in horror because he has absolutely no idea what to do, what's going on

- He remains stiff as a board until it passes, and can barely squeak out an, "Are- Are you ok? Normie? H-Hey, no dying in my room! Not in game or irl!"

- After you explain what happened, he readjusts his floor gaming set up. Adds more pillows, and gets you a big comfy beanbag chair. That way, if it happens again, he doesn't have to worry about you falling or hitting your head

- Reads up a little bit on seizures and their cause (i.e. he specifically seeks out a manga that has an epileptic MC and takes it for fact, but. He's trying) and tries to make sure you don't come in contact with any crazy flashing lights or drink too much alcohol

Satan

- He is definitely the most prepared. Once you became a permanent fixture in their lives and he was undeniably fond of you, he read up on pretty much every human ailment known to man, from the common cold to the bubonic plague to even, yes, seizures.

- So when it happens, he's sure to catch you, making sure you don't hit your head and quickly lays you down on the floor. Makes sure you're spread out and aren't in danger of smacking anything. Puts your head in his lap as a cushion, and pays close attention to be sure you aren't going to bite your tongue

- Uses his sleeve to dab your forehead as you're coming out of it, asking in a surprisingly tender voice if you're alright. Asks if you're feeling dizzy or confused, asks your name, current location, age, etc., just to make sure that you're ok

- Makes you a nice mug of warm tea afterwards, puts you to bed if you're feeling tired after the ordeal, and even offers to read to you to help you calm down

Asmodeus

- You guys are having a bath when it starts, and he's just going on and on and on about how great you're going to look after his special new conditioner works it's magic and the bathwater rejuvenates your skin. He barely notices you suddenly slipping under the water

- Thankfully, the seizing causes splashing and then he notices, and of course freaks out. Grabs you under the arms and pulls you up above water, calling your name in a panic and wondering what's wrong!

- He gets you out of the bath and laid onto the floor, fretting that you had inhaled some water and clearly aren't ok!

- When it ends he's kneeling over you, sparkling tears streaming from his eyes, and you've barely started to sit up before he's throwing himself at you, sobbing into your neck and clinging. Demanding to know what that was, feverishly asking if you're alright, apologizing in a panic.

- When you tell him that yes, you're alright, he pulls back from the hug just enough to grab your cheeks in his hands and rain kisses all over your face, still sniffling because he was so worried!

- Begs you never to do that again, citing that he'll get worry lines otherwise, and more importantly, "What if you fall and bruise that beautiful face?! I couldn't bare it, I just couldn't! You mustn't ever do that again, for both of our sakes!"

- He wuvs you and treats you to some extra special pampering that night 💖

Beelzebub

- Unfortunately, he's the idiot that picks you up. He means well, but seeing you just suddenly drop like a sack of flour makes him worried! Definitely has flashbacks to Lillith's death, watching her fall after being shot from the sky, so he scrambles over to scoop you up and book it. Either to the House of Lamentation or to Purgatory Hall, whatever's closer. Either Solomon or Lucifer will know what to do!

- Being jostled around as he full on sprints with you right after coming out of that vulnerable state is no good, and you end up getting sick. He's very apologetic as he rubs your back while you heave, questioning if there's anything he can do to help!

- When you explain what just happened, he feels terrible. He didn't know! Looks like a kicked puppy as he apologizes, hands hovering over you, unsure what to do to help!

- He takes you back to the House and insists you go straight to bed! Makes you some soup, a very gentle broth to help settle your stomach and replace the nutrients you lost! He keeps himself from eating it on the way back to your room. That's how much he loves you. This is your special feel better soup, he can't steal from you!

- Probably insists on spoon feeding you so you don't strain yourself

- After you're feeling better, he asks that you teach him all about proper seizure response so he'll be prepared for next time

Belphegor

- You're sitting together in the observatory when it happens, and when you suddenly flop over backwards he kinda snickers. "Aw c'mon, falling asleep sitting up is my thing."

- Promptly notices you're seizing and just goes o.o

- Scoots away from you so you don't smack into him, but is immediately right by your side again when it's over

- Asks if that's some kind of weird spontaneous nap thing that humans do. When you tell him that no, it's definitely not, he gets kinda mopey. "Aw. I thought I could grab us each a pillow and a blanket."

- You explain to him that it's not crazy life threatening or anything, so he doesn't need to worry. He huffs that he wasn't worried (yes he was) and he knew you were going to be fine (no he didn't)

- Bullies you to come back to the attic with him for proper post-seizure napping procedure. Doesn't even steal the blanket and let's you be the little spoon for once. Holds onto you very tightly, and only then do you notice his hands are subtly shaking.

- You carefully wiggle and turn over so you're nose to nose. "Hey," you gently tell him. "Really. I'm ok, I promise. Ok? I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

- He clings to you tighter, moving to bury his face in your neck. Mumbles that you better not, and he's gonna hold you to that

- Next time it happens, he's ready with a pillow to slide under your head and a warm glass of milk afterwards to help soothe your nerves

You are very loved. The end (◕ᴗ◕✿)

#obey me #obey me hcs #obey me reader insert #gender neutral mc #gn/mc #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor

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sirphillipcranestanaccount · 3 years

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"You make me feel like I couldn't love another..."

So, I saw this on twitter and had to write it, so here's bath time with Philoise.

(Attempt at an artistic title courtesy of "Bathwater" by No Doubt)

Eloise sighed as she walked through the door, dropping her bag on the ground in the entryway. It had been a long day, a long week. Heck, it had been a long month. But she was home now, and ready to fall onto the couch and relax.

And she did just that. Usually, she would find Phillip and the twins and discuss the day, but she just didn’t have the energy. So she flopped face down on the couch and let herself sink into the cushions.

The next thing Eloise knew, she was being awakened with a kiss on her cheek.

“Hello there” Phillip said. He was kneeling next to the couch and walking his fingers up her back.

“Hi,” Eloise smiled and looked around, “are the twins home?”

“They are with your sister,” Phillip said, “I figured you could use a night free of disturbance and distraction, and Francesca is always happy to take them off our hands…”

“I see,” she replied, sitting up and putting her hand in his “you know, there’s some distractions I don’t mind having. Specifically you and the twins.”

Phillip grinned, “Do you want me to go pick them up and take them home?”

“No no,” Eloise replied, “They’re probably having much more fun with Fran and Micheal anyway.”

“Good, because I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, “and as much as I love Oliver and Amanda, I think it will be a bit more enjoyable without the ambiance that they provide.”

Phillip lead Eloise upstairs and brought her to the bathroom. As she entered she gasped. Phillip had filled the room with candles and drawn a bath. She walked over and could smell the scent of eucalyptus and see flower petals floating on the surface.

“Phillip, when did you do this? How long was I asleep?” she asked.

“Let’s see…” he said, walking up behind her and rubbing her shoulders, “I got home around six to find you completely passed out on the couch, then I made the arrangements for the twins, dropped them off, and came back around six forty-five,” he looked at his watch, “It’s now eight o’clock, so you’ve been out for at least two hours.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t wake up! Especially since it looks like you moved an entire Yankee Candle store in here,” she said.

“Well, you do sleep like the dead,” he laughed, “but I digress. You go ahead and enjoy yourself, just call for me if you want anything.”

As Phillip began to exit, Eloise turned around and grabbed his hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she said.

“I was going to leave you to enjoy some alone time,” Phillip said, arching his brow.

“I don’t want alone time,” Eloise said, pulling him closer, “I want you,” she flashed him a smile, “besides, it would be an absolute shame for you to put so much work into this and not be able to enjoy it.”

“It’s worth it to make you happy,” he smiled back.

“Well, it would make me even happier for you to join me, so take your clothes off and get in the tub,” she said.

“Well, if you insist,” he shrugged and pulled his shirt over his head.

Eloise put her hair up and began to undress.

“So, was this an impromptu treat for me? Or has this been in the works?” Eloise asked as Phillip got into the bathtub.

“Well,” Phillip said settling in, “on Wednesday you almost nodded off and fell face first into your soup during dinner, so I figured I’d do something for you this weekend, but when I got home tonight to find you drooling all over the couch, and grinding your teeth, I knew you needed something stat.”

“I see,” Eloise said putting one leg in the tub, then the other. She sat down and leaned back against Phillip’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

Eloise tilted to the side slightly so she could turn and look Phillip in the eyes.

“Thank you for taking care of me” she said with a smile.

“It’s an honor and a privilege” he said, kissing her forehead.

Eloise ran her hands through the water, taking in a deep breath and enjoying the relaxing scents, the calming ambiance, and the warmth of the water combined with the warmth of Phillip’s arms around her.

“So, these flowers,” she said picking up a flower off of the surface of the water, “are they from the garden?”

“Actually, no,” Phillip said, “they are from a can of ‘bath tea’. I didn’t want to risk filling your bath up with bugs by using fresh flowers.”

“Well, thank you for that,” Eloise laughed, “But, where on earth did you get bath tea?”

“I got it in a gift basket I somehow won in a PTA drawing ages ago,” he said.

“What’s in it?” she asked.

“Let me see, the can’s right over here,” he said, beginning to reach for the can.

“Ah ah ah,” she tutted, grabbing his hand, “I want you to use that brain of yours and guess, flower man.”

Phillip laughed and brought his hand back down to its original position.

“Alright, make me guess,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder and giving her a gentle kiss on her neck.

“Well, let’s start with this,” she said, holding up the purple bud in her hand.

“That’s lavender,” Phillip said with little hesitation.

“How do you know?” Eloise asked.

“Because it’s purple, has small petals, and I can smell it from here” he said.

“Fair,” she shrugged.

“Let’s see, what’s next,” she said, scanning the water, “what about this?”

She held up a pink petal.

“Hmmm, it looks like a rose petal, I couldn’t tell you what kind though.”

“How many kinds of roses are there?”

“Far too many to name,” he said, “But there’s three main categories.”

“Tell me about them,” Eloise said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Just the sound of his voice made her feel happy.

“Well, there’s wild roses, antique garden roses, and modern garden roses. Judging by the petal shape and stong scent, these probably came from an antique rose.”

“And what type of roses do we have in the garden?” she asked.

“We’ve got some antique and modern roses.”

“What kind are the ones in the bushes in the front of the house? The really good smelling pink ones without the thorns?”

“Those are zepherine drouhine roses, they’re a type of antique rose.”

“I like those ones the best, I associate them with coming home to you,” she said.

“They’re my favorite too,” he said, “for the same reason.”

Eloise dropped the petal back into the water.

“Alright, that’s enough flowers, right now I want you to kiss me,” she said turning her head towards him once again.

“Is that so?” he said with a devilish grin.

“Mmhm, we can get back to flowers later,” she said before pressing her lips to his.

“Happy to oblige” he said, between kisses.

“I love you Phillip,” she said softly.

“I love you too Eloise.”

They never did return to the subject of flowers that particular evening.

#philoise #eloise x phillip #phillip x eloise #phillip crane #eloise bridgerton #emily tries to write

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paradife-loft · 3 years

Note

For the reverse unpopular opinions meme, Zixuan! (Or if you'd rather my maximum gremlin brain option—Jin Guangshan?)

nooooo not maximum gremlin brain! 🤣🤣🤣

but ok, Jin Zixuan -

I do at this point find his hopeless dumbass behaviour during early CQL pretty endearing, honestly. like, genuine snob moments aside (*sniffs* “this tea is stale”), it’s pretty easy for me to read a lot of what he does as - growing up in a pretty fucked environment interpersonally-speaking, and reacting to circumstances he doesn’t quite know how to deal with by... resorting to situationally-understandable maladaptive responses, just like everyone else in the story. and like for the majority of the cast, my emotional response to that is positive! kinda wanna wrap him in a blanket. and then cuff him over the head for being a dumbass.

one of my favourite things with him actually, is how we see some of the post-Sunshot miscommunications between him and JYL playing out? in part because it seems like a partial microcosm of the culture clash between Yunmeng Jiang and Lanling Jin. we get charming conversations like these:

JZX: “so would you like to come to the Phoenix Mountain hunt as my guest?”

JYL: *hopeful expression; maybe boy I like actually likes me back??*

JZX: “...my mother wanted me to extend you an invitation, ofc” [translation: giving both of us some face for falling back on Proper Established Social Relationships Between Our Parents if you don’t actually like me as a person]

JYL: *hears “this invitation actually has nothing to do with how I feel about you and is just for politeness bc my mom likes you* “oh :( yeah I guess”

- and yeah just, the way he repeatedly shoots himself in the foot by reading everything through the five-layers-of-plausible-deniability method of communicating that they tend to have going on at Jinlintai. (has he picked up any other decent politically-useful skills from this environment? nope! but he sure has figured out how to tie himself in knots not saying what he means. good job sir XD)

oh, and also - the other big thing that I appreciate about him, on a more serious level than just being entertained by his particular flavor of dysfunction, is the implication via Soup Drama that he is aware of the problem of higher-ranked people stealing the work and achievements of lower-ranked people within the Jin army during Sunshot, and at least in theory cares enough about this being a bad thing to do that he’ll take action over it? like, I’ve gestured in this direction before, but. it’s certainly not some sort of proactive attempt to weed out corruption in the ranks or anything; he’s just not the sort of person (at this point?) to do that! but I think it does speak to... a capacity that’s there, at least, to recognise injustice and not stand for it in the right circumstances, which in a better world could perhaps have been nurtured and leveraged into a force for some amount of good by having the relevant people around him. (do I mean a nice fantasy universe where JGY has a stable and valued and trusted position as his brother’s right hand? I mean, yeah. would this particular version of changing things for the better in the manner of pulling teeth accomplish more or less than his canonical achievements? I don’t know, honestly. it’s just a lot of hypotheticals.) - the point being, positive character growth, particularly in the area of recognising a type of systemic injustice? it’s a small thing, but I do appreciate it, particularly when he is by and large so narrow in his focus on what he’s actively interested in doing.

(I have.... a lot of headcanon about what JZX’s subjective experiences and the circumstances of his life were like, ftr, that are all pretty much coming out of a general interest in reading characters fairly sympathetically wherever possible. and what can I say, in the context of this particular story, I don’t find his particular sins of continual inaction where he might have made a big difference if he were more active, to be worthy of emotionally tossing out the baby and bathwater both. other folks’ mileage is justified in varying.)

Jin Guangshan......

well, okay. it is true that his experienced manipulation of all the younger sect leaders after the Sunshot campaign is quite a skillful and delightful thing to see, in the part of my brain that likes to do nothing but amorally watch a bunch of political intrigue for its own sake and munch on popcorn.

and that is all I am going to say there 😂

#ask memes #ask a James #xiyao feels #no good things for the poor sad cultivators #reverse unpopular opinions meme #Jin Zixuan #xiyao-feels

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charmingwords23 · 3 years

Text

Fanfic: Exponential Growth

Teresa hadn’t been expecting her family to grow by two members in one day.

- OR -

Teresa was already pregnant in the finale and I’ll prove it with this fic...

Link

Teresa couldn’t sleep. Each time she would close her eyes and try to relax, something would distract her. The side of the pillow against her cheek wasn’t cold enough, so she’d flipped it. James was too far away, so she’d snuggled closer. Then she was too hot, so she’d shifted away. Her back was aching from lying on it too long, so she’d rolled onto her side. The waves crashing outside the bedroom window were unusually loud - had they always been like that? Maybe they needed noise-reducing drapes. Did those exist? She had tossed and turned so much last night that James had eventually grumbled in his sleep and thrown his arm over her waist in a vain attempt at keeping her still.

By the time the dark of night started to fade to gray, Teresa had tried counting sheep, counting the seconds between the breaking waves, and counting the whiskers between James’s ear and chin (she lost count on that one). When nothing worked, she had mostly just lain with her eyes on the ceiling, mind racing but never settling on a complete thought. So when the clock turned to 5:30 AM and the seagulls outside started to squawk, Teresa gave up and decided she might as well just get up.

Teresa turned her head toward the sleeping man beside her. James was lying on his side, his right arm slung lazily over the bottom of her ribcage so that his fingertips brushed her hip bone. His soft hair flopped over his forehead and jutted out in different directions, in a disarray still from when she had run her fingers though it the night before. She studied the way his dark lashes rested against his cheek and how his lips parted so slightly with his slow, rhythmic breaths that anyone who wasn’t looking wouldn’t even notice.

He always looked so peaceful when he slept.

She didn’t know she could love a person so much. Teresa’s chest felt tight, compressed by the overwhelming urge to draw so close she wouldn’t be able to tell where she ended and he began. She wanted to wrap herself under his skin and tie their souls together.

Instead, she gingerly reached out a hand to smooth her fingers over his brow, careful to keep her touch light as a butterfly wing.

He didn’t stir. With a silent sigh, Teresa carefully withdrew her hand and slid her body out from under his arm. She perched on the edge of the bed and reached for James’s shirt on the floor. She remembered throwing it off of him the night before, and a ghost of a smile formed on her lips. She shrugged into the shirt and stood up, swiping her hand over the back of her neck to free her long curls from the neckline of the shirt.

James groaned quietly behind her, rolled onto his stomach, and ran his hand over the bare sheets that were still warm from her body. “What are you doing?” His voice was low and muffled against the pillow where his face was half-buried.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she whispered, shifting the shirt so that it sat evenly on her shoulders instead of gaping off to one side because of its size.

James grumbled in protest. He grabbed a hold of the edge of the shirt and tugged at it. “Come back to bed,” he mumbled, never opening his eyes.

Teresa shifted around to smile at him and shook her head. “Can’t. Too much to do today.” He huffed and buried his face further in his pillow. Teresa leaned down to kiss his bare shoulder once, then padded across the floor to the adjoining bathroom. She clicked the door shut behind her before turning on the light.

As she drew the bath and added her favorite oils to the water, she drummed her fingers against her thigh - her restless energy increasing. She moved around the bathroom, collecting fresh towels and wash rags to set on the stool next to the tub.

Today was the day.

Finally, after four years, her entire family was going to be together again.

She, James, Kelly Anne, and Kelly Anne’s daughter Lena had lived a quiet, content life together since disappearing from their old lives. They ate meals together, they played in the sun together, and they watched movies together; but no amount of happiness had been able to completely fill the Pote-shaped void in their lives. Since the moment James and Kelly Anne had joined Teresa at the beach, Teresa had felt both a happiness she had never fathomed and a longing for the day when Pote would be reunited with them to make their family whole.

Teresa had teared up when they got the news last month that Pote would be released with time served in the upcoming weeks.

In the present, Teresa dipped a hand into the bathwater to check the temperature. Satisfied that it was hot enough to relax her muscles but cool enough to not cause a sweat, she stirred the water around with her fingers and then shed James’s shirt, letting it fall to its most common resting place: the floor. She dipped her toes into the water, then slowly sunk her body in - letting the warmth caress her skin.

Teresa tried to allow the calming lavender scent she had added to the water relax her. She began massaging her skin with her favorite scrub and making a mental list of what she needed to do today to get ready for Pote’s homecoming.

She would need to refresh the sheets in Kelly Anne’s room so Pote would have a nice, fresh bed to sleep in. Kelly Anne had already washed the small starter-collection of clothes they’d purchased for Pote, so that was done at least. She wondered if she should ask James to go into town to buy a couple of bottles of Pote’s favorite Mexican whiskey? Teresa had already prepped the meat for the soup she would make tonight - letting it marinate overnight for extra flavor. She did need to bake the bread this morning so the dough would have time to rise this afternoon, but that wouldn’t be too difficult.

Teresa had been making preparations for Pote’s return for over a week, and still she felt the nagging in the back of her mind like she was forgetting something important.

She rinsed her face in the bathwater, then massaged her washrag over her forehead and cheeks.

She had thought of everything, right? She had made his travel arrangements - all at a premium to ensure the highest discretion. Despite Teresa’s mixed feelings on the matter, James had successfully infiltrated the prison and passed off coded travel directions to Pote. Teresa and Kelly Anne had stocked up on Pote’s favorite foods and ingredients, and Teresa had even helped Kelly Anne start compiling a list of potential houses on the island where she and Pote could move with their daughter when Pote was ready. They had started leaving an empty chair at their dinner table and telling Lena it was where her Papi would sit when he arrived home, so she wouldn’t be confused.

Teresa shook her head. No, she was sure she had covered her bases. Pote would be home today and everything was almost ready for his arrival.

When she had scrubbed her skin clean and the water started to turn more tepid than warm, she swam her hand to the bottom to unplug the stopper, then lifted herself from the water. She grabbed her clean towel and patted it against the rivulets of water that trickled down her body. Shaking off as much water as she could, she stepped out of the tub and exchanged her towel for the fluffy white robe hanging on a nearby wall hook.

Teresa made her way to her designated sink at the bathroom vanity and released her hair from where she had tied it up before her bath. The soft strands of curls cascaded over the shoulders and back of her robe. She ran her fingers through it and decided it might need a few spritzes of the leave-in conditioner she kept on hand.

She scanned the vanity top - eyes passing over her most-used lotions, soaps, and moisturizers. Where had she put it? She glanced at James's sink. The only supply he kept out was his hand-soap, and Teresa knew she wouldn’t have put her conditioner in any of the drawers that held his razor, aftershave, nail trimmers, or any of his other things. Her lips pursed together in consternation as she started opening the various vanity drawers and rifling through them.

Not with the nail polish; she would have never put it there.

Not with the extra hand towels.

Not with the cold medication, ibuprofen, and cough drops on hand for the occasional illness.

She opened the largest under-sink drawer and began to root through the little shelves that held her blow dryer, hair straightener, and additional hair and skin products. In her digging, she bumped something onto the floor with her elbow. Teresa huffed and crouched down on her heels to gather up the tampons that were spilling out of their box and onto the floor. She made a mental note that she needed to get more of them soon. She’d been meaning to pick some up but -

Wait.

Teresa froze just as she was setting the little box back under the sink. She blinked a few times, her eyes flitting to the side, trying to recall a memory.

What day was it again?

How long had it been?

She tried to count backwards in her mind and felt an uncomfortable crease forming in her brow.

Wait, wait, wait.

She shut the cabinet door and scrambled to her feet. There was a buzzing in her ear, and she could feel her heart starting to beat against her ribcage. She swung the bathroom door open. James was still lying on his stomach with his face half buried in a pillow. He grimaced at the bright yellow light from the bathroom but didn’t open his eyes. The gray-blue light of dawn filtered through the drapes to illuminate the curves of his exposed back where the sheet had ridden down to his hips.

“James,” she whispered, a hint of urgency in her tone.

“Mmm?”

“What day is it?”

“Wednesday,” he rumbled, his voice heavy with sleep and still muffled by his pillow.

“No,” she prompted, “I mean the date.” She brought her thumb up to her lip and started chewing on her fingernail - still trying to mentally calculate the passage of time. Out here on the beach, everything moved so slowly that Teresa barely ever kept track of the day of the week, much less the day of the month. The only time she ever really checked was when she knew her cycle must be coming up -

James frowned and opened one sleepy eye to glance at her. “The ninth.” Teresa’s gaze drifted down, lost in her counting. “Why?” he prodded, voice thick and lazy.

The answer to the most important math problem she’d done in years - maybe in her whole life - sprung to her mind. It had been 36 days. James must have noticed something in her expression, because he started to shift himself up onto one arm. She swallowed. “No reason,” she whispered in a rush, backing into the bathroom and shutting the door again, resting her back against it for a second. She heard James huff and then settle back into the bed.

She needed to be sure.

She rushed forward to her vanity again and threw open the drawer where she knew she had stocked a few pregnancy tests in the back. Lena’s surprise appearance in Kelly Anne’s life had convinced Teresa to always keep one or two tests on hand. After all, she had always been one to plan for all contingencies.

It turned out she had accumulated three slim boxes. Teresa scanned her eyes over the instructions and then yanked the packages open.

The three minutes between when she set the last used test on the counter top and when she could pick them up to see the results felt like the seconds were wading through quicksand. Teresa sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared off into space.

Her mind went back to a handful of weeks ago when she and James had watched from a short distance on the beach as Kelly Anne told Lena about her Papi and how he would be coming home soon. The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she’d even really registered them. I think I want that. James had assessed her, surprise and something else clear on his face.

“A kid?” he’d asked. She’d nodded. He’d grinned and pulled her into his side, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

They hadn’t been trying, technically. But they also hadn’t been not trying.

When her birth control pills had run out shortly after that, she had just stopped refilling them. When the moment had come each time they had sex the last few weeks, they’d just skipped the condom. They weren’t in a rush, but they weren’t preventing anything anymore either.

She always thought it would take longer.

James was going to be so smug.

When the three minutes had passed and it was time to look at her results, Teresa already knew in her heart what the tests would say. She stood, ignoring the slight tremor in her hand, and took the two steps to the vanity where the tests were laid out.

Two lines.

A plus sign.

Pregnant.

Teresa sucked in a breath and backed up to sit on the edge of the tub again. Her eyes pointed toward the bathroom door, unfocused, and her hand drifted absently to press against her stomach. A baby. A new life to love and be responsible for. Old Teresa rarely let herself dream of the possibility, but here in her new life, she was starting to get used to dreams becoming reality.

She was going to be a mother.

A soft knock rapped against the door.

“Teresa?” James’s voice was gravelly, like he’d just climbed his way out of a deep slumber and his voice wasn’t ready to forfeit the sleep yet. Teresa wasn’t prepared to say anything, so she didn’t. Her mind was too distracted by a barrage of images: tiny toes, teddy bears, lullabies, pink lips and soft eyelashes.

She heard the door click open and saw James stepping inside while scratching a hand over his bare stomach where the elastic of his sweatpants hung low on his hips. His hair looked like a charming mess, and he squinted his eyes against the light. Her vision was starting to smear around the edges. Somewhere in the depths of her mind she realized the blurriness was a side effect of gathering tears.

“Teresa, what -” She could feel the moment James’s eyes landed on her, and even through her blurry vision she could see him stop his movements. His voice was awake and demanding in the next heartbeat. “Are you ok? What’s going on?”

She blinked rapidly and lifted her eyes to his face. Her chest was starting to burn with something that even after four years, she was only just starting to recognize: joy.

His brow was furrowed and his lips were turned down at the corners. She supposed she’d be worried too if she walked into the bathroom and saw him crying in a robe on the edge of the bathtub. He crossed the distance between them and crouched in front of her. His hand automatically reached up to press the back of his palm against her forehead. “Hey,” he breathed, searching her eyes. “Are you feeling ok? What’s wrong?”

She planted her hands on the sides of his neck, his bare skin warming her palms. Her own lips wobbled into some semblance of a smile. “Nothing,” she exhaled. “We -” she cleared her throat and jutted her chin toward the vanity. “Look.”

James stared at her for a beat, confusion written on his brows. He stood and stepped away from her grasp. She watched his eyes connect with what was on the sink and stop moving. He spun back around to face her, his eyes wide and his mouth dropping open slightly. She laughed then and clasped her hands together over her heart, the elation that had been bubbling in her lungs spilling over to the surface. “Teresa,” he murmured, turning to the sink again and stepping closer. His eyes scanned through the tests, and his hand reached out as if to grab one of them, but he pulled it back.

He spun to face her again, taking steps toward her as if in a trance. She felt his eyes boring into her face. “You’re pregnant?” His voice was soft, like the words were a prayer.

Teresa bit her lip, but even that couldn’t hinder the corners from turning up in a smile. James laughed and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes bright. In a moment, he was crouching in front of her again, his palms smoothing up her neck and his fingers cradling the back of her head. “You’re serious?”

Teresa bent her elbows to grab onto his forearms below his wrists. “Yes,” she confirmed, her voice sounding light and breathless.

His answering grin matched her own. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, then kissed her nose and pulled back enough to meet her eyes again. “How do you feel?”

Teresa knew he didn’t mean physically. She blinked again, and the tears building up in one of her eyes finally snuck over the edge and onto her cheek. James wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “Happy,” she admitted, her smile growing.

“Me too,” he confirmed, the emotion in his eyes dancing. Teresa moved one of her hands from his arm to his face, smoothing her thumb over his lips and then brushing his hair back from his face. She hoped their child had his deep brown eyes and soft dark hair.

Teresa leaned forward to capture his lips with her own. By now, kissing James was as familiar as breathing, yet somehow her stomach still turned over when one of his hands fisted in her hair and the other one skimmed down her back to steady her where she still sat on the edge of the tub. She planted one of her hands against his jaw, relishing the tickle of his short beard against her flesh.

His lips against hers were joy. Adoration. Reverence.

“We’re having a baby,” she mumbled against his lips, her own curving against his. When he pulled back a few blissful moments later and grinned at her, she mirrored his expression. He laughed softly and tucked some loose curls behind her ear.

“What?” she wondered aloud, her skin barely able to contain the euphoria bursting forth from deep inside her chest.

James focused on that same strand of curls and ran his fingers down it, his grin turning into a smirk. He met her eyes again. “I just remembered when you said we shouldn’t get our hopes up because it might take me a while.”

Teresa wasn’t sure whether she wanted to pinch his side in rebellion or devour the smirk from his face.

---

The morning and afternoon passed in a flurry of activity preparing for Pote’s arrival. Kelly Anne was a basket of nerves, cleaning and then recleaning every surface in the house - wanting everything to be perfect. James had offered to take Lena swimming after lunch to occupy the little girl, and Kelly Anne had almost cried in appreciation. A few minutes later, James had changed into his swim trunks and had hoisted a cackling Lena onto his shoulders.

He had squeezed Teresa’s hand and thrown her a wink when the pair passed her on their way outside.

It was a miracle that Kelly Anne hadn’t noticed the dreamy smile that had clawed its way onto Teresa’s face, but then again, Kelly Anne had other things on her mind, Teresa supposed.

A few hours later, Teresa decided she needed a break when Kelly Anne asked her opinion on the fifth outfit she had changed into. James and Lena had returned from their swim, and James had headed for the shower while Lena joined her mom and tía in Kelly Anne’s bedroom.

“Is this one too much?” Kelly Anne was babbling. “It’s too much, isn’t it. Ugh, I knew it.”

Kelly Anne started tearing off her most recent tank top despite Teresa’s assurances that it looked great.

“Mommy, when is Papi coming?” Lena whined, kicking her feet over the edge of the bed.

“Soon, baby. Why don’t you go brush your teeth?”

Lena pouted and flopped onto the mattress. “I did that already!”

Kelly Anne barely spared her daughter a glance in the mirror. “Well brush them again, then.”

“But I don’t wanna!” Lena wailed.

Teresa grabbed the little girl’s hand. “It’s ok. I’ll take her outside for a while. We’ll build a sandcastle.”

Kelly Anne nodded at Teresa and mouthed “thank-you.” Teresa nodded at her friend, then let the tiny brunette out of the house.

Kneeling in the sand and watching Lena dig around and build her dream castle, Teresa couldn’t help imagining a few years down the road when she might be doing the same with her old child. Lena prattled on about dragons and moats and princesses, and Teresa humored her - helping her decide on the best place for her drawbridge. Once, James had helped the girl build a sandcastle and had insisted that she place her towers and drawbridges in tactically sound places. Lena had no idea what that meant, so now she constantly asked “Here?” before altering her creation with additional structures. They scoured the beach together for shells to decorate the castle, and Teresa relished the feel of little Lena’s hand in hers.

Not long after, Teresa looked up to see Kelly Anne waving to her from the back porch. Deciding she really did need to run inside and check on her bread before Pote’s arrival, Teresa ruffled Lena’s hair and made her promise to wait right there until her mom got to her. The girl nodded, and Teresa started walking back up the boardwalk toward her house. Kelly Anne gave her arm an appreciative squeeze as they passed one another on the boardwalk.

When Teresa walked into her air conditioned living room, James set his glass of water down on the coffee table and stood up from the couch to meet her.

“Hey,” he’d said casually, reaching out to grab her by the elbow gently. She’d stepped toward him automatically, letting her eyes roam over him. He wore a light button-up shirt with polka dots and the pink shorts with tiny lobsters on them she’d given to him for his birthday. His hair was soft and windswept, despite his shower not long ago. He looked as handsome as ever. She signed, a soft smile blooming on her face. James wrapped his arms around her waist, locking her in place in front of him. “You made sure Lena put the towers in the best strategic places, right?”

She threw her head back and laughed. He watched her with a grin on his lips.

“You doing ok?” he added quietly, a secret smile lighting his eyes.

She reached up and kissed his cheek in response. “Yes. I’m going to check on the bread.” She patted his cheek with her hand, and he turned his face to kiss her fingers before he dropped his arms and let her step away from him.

Only two minutes later, just as Teresa was peeking under the dish towel she had draped over the bread dough while it rose, Lena ran into the kitchen.

“Tía Teresa! Papi is here!”

Eager, Teresa had and made her way to the back door. She could see James hugging Pote just before she stepped out onto the porch. “Welcome home,” she called, her face breaking into a happy smile at seeing her dearest friend again after so long. She approached him and pulled him into a tight hug, the wind tousling her hair.

“Teresita,” he said, crushing her against him.

“Hola,” she breathed with a shaky voice, rubbing his back. She had gotten regular updates on Pote throughout the last 4 years, but having him back home with her was exactly the emotional powderkeg she had expected. Her insides screamed between excitement, guilt, happiness, and regret. The happiness was winning. She pulled in a breath and stepped back from him. “You look good,” she pointed out, keeping her hand on his shoulder.

Pote regarded her with a smile for half a second. “You look different,” he appraised. Something about the twinkle in his eye made her blink. Could he tell? Was she...glowing...or something? She shook her head slightly, her smile basically permanent at this point.

“Four years,” she mused.

“Better late than never,” he assured her. “Your plan worked, Teresita.”

Teresa’s smile turned sad. “I’m sorry you missed so much time with your daughter.” For a moment, she thought about her own child. She had always felt remorse over Pote not being around for the first few years of Lena’s life, but now...the thought of James not being here for their child and how she knew it would tear him apart brought a new level of understanding to the pain.

Pote shook his head and glanced around between the three people standing on the porch with him. “Nah. If something had to go wrong, I’d rather it be on my end.”

“So Teresa’s plan worked,” Kelly Anne supplied, “We’re safe.”

Safe. There were only a few loose ends left, and Teresa needed to know they were tied up. She had to make sure it was all really over. She wouldn’t let her child be born into a world where having Teresa Mendoza as a mother could be a death sentence. So she inquired about Boaz. About Chicho and Marcel. Pote assured her that everything was taken care of. No one suspected she was alive, and there were no past enemies left out there who would come looking anyway.

They were really and truly free.

Teresa could feel James’s eyes on her. She knew he would be thinking the same thing as her. How today their freedom meant even more to them than it did yesterday.

When Pote rubbed his hands together and asked to be shown to the kitchen, the group laughed. Teresa’s brilliant smile bubbled up again. “Actually,” she pointed out, “I’m cooking for you tonight.”

While Kelly Anne explained to Pote some of the biggest changes in their lives, James had pulled Teresa into his side and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. She laid her head on his shoulder and her palm on his chest, letting the familiar beat of his heart drown out the demons that had tried to peek through the crevices of her mind moments ago. The biggest and most consequential change in her and James’s life was something neither of their friends knew about yet. In time, James and Teresa would tell them, but now was not the moment.

At dinner, no one but James seemed to notice that she brought a pitcher of a local, tropical fruit juice to the table instead of the cocktail she had mixed up the day before. Kelly Anne and Pote were too distracted about being together to take in much else, but James had squeezed her hand under the table and given her a conspiratorial smile.

When Pote talked about how happy he was to be eating as a family, Teresa zoned out. If only her past self could see her now, surrounded by her family and preparing to start a little one of her own. She imagined how a year from now there would be a high chair added to the table for family dinners, and she felt her lips tilt up at the corners wistfully. She thought the Old Teresa would be proud of her.

Kelly Anne and Pote were lost in their own conversation. James, the one who always saw through her, squeezed her hand again and asked if she was ok. The knowing glint in his eye made her think maybe he had had the same flash to the future when envisioning how their family dinners were about to change.

“Yeah,” she whispered, content, before leaning forward and connecting her lips to his for just a moment. An “I love you” kiss for no reason other than that, that she loved him and she was happy and she couldn’t stop herself. She caressed his cheek softly before leaning away, and he stared at her in the way that always turned her stomach over. Like he adored her. Like he was in awe of her.

Pressing his lips together to keep his grin at bay, he turned back to the group. “A toast,” he proclaimed, grabbing his glass. Pote and Kelly Anne looked away from one another and grabbed their own glasses. Teresa followed suit. James raised his glass up. “To a new life,” he declared, a sly glance her way.

Cheeky bastard, she thought, fighting to control her smile.

---

That evening, Teresa sat side by side with James on the stairs of their private boardwalk. She was pressed into his shoulder, one hand hugging his bicep and the other held gently between his palms. The wind blew strands of her hair against her neck and cheeks. The late evening sun was starting to begin its descent, but she was snuggled close enough to James that the chill of the sea breeze didn’t bother her.

Together they watched Pote and Kelly Anne play in the waves with their daughter.

Teresa didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that she and James were thinking the same thing. The notion of parenthood had only lived inside of them for about 12 hours, but already she could see it so clearly. How they would hold their child’s hands - one of them on each side - and swing him or her over the tiny incoming waves. How their child would laugh, and play in the sand, and enjoy the feel of the cool sea water on his or her feet.

How together they would move heaven and earth to make sure their child was safe, and happy, and loved every single day.

Teresa looked over at James, and let her smile overtake her.

This will be us, she said without speaking.

She knew he would understand.

His answering smile was one part bashful and one part enamored. She knew with certainty that his dreams of their future matched her own. He rubbed his thumb over her hand that he held, letting his eyes make his promises to her.

She snuggled impossibly closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. “So,” she started, a hint of humor creeping into her voice. “I guess we need to encourage Pote and Kelly Anne to start house hunting sooner rather than later. I wasn’t expecting our family to grow by fifty percent in one day when I bought this house.”

James chuckled and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “Do they call that exponential growth?”

Teresa buried her nose in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of the sea that now permanently clung to him. “No, you’re thinking of one-hundred fifty percent.”

He started playing with her fingers in his hands. He didn’t look at her this time, but the corners of his mouth turned up. “Yeah? So what’s that, like 3 more kids?” She looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Give me some time and I’ll make it happen.”

Teresa threw her head back and laughed. When he pulled her in more tightly and pressed his lips against her hairline, she thought exponential growth didn’t sound too bad.

#jeresa #fanfiction #queen of the south #jeresa baby!

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Text

24 Hour Flu

A/N: This is a Sonny Carisi x firefighter!reader fic, and was totally inspired by the headcanon that Sonny’s a germophobe. This also covers the Truth square in the VDay Bingo. The dialogue is a little weird, but that was only to try and fit the lyrics, whoops. Hope you still enjoy!

Tags: vomit mention, otherwise none, just fluff

Words: 2492

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @barbasimp @alwaysachorusgirl @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @glimmerglittergirl @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

(Gif by @amandacarisi)

You had a crazy night; you were a firefighter, and you were covering a shift for a buddy. But it, of course, happened to be the busiest night of the month. You had 4 calls within the first 3 hours, and it never once slowed down after that. Thankfully, none of the calls were too serious, and there were no casualties on shift.

Sore and exhausted, you dragged yourself home at 7am, ready to get some nice sleep. Your boyfriend, Sonny, would be long gone for work. And as much as you missed him when you worked nights, you were thankful to have the bed to yourself. You planned to pull the blackout curtains and sleep until at least 2pm. Thankfully, you were off today; though, you were on call for anything bad.

Entering the apartment, you hung up your jacket, toeing off your shoes by the door. You wanted a shower first; the warm water would help you fall asleep. What you weren’t expecting, though, was to find Sonny, curled up on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet and shivering.

“Dom? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked, alarmed. You could smell the bitterness of stomach acid in the air, and you knew he had been sick. You bent down, cupping his face, putting your hand on his forehead. He was on fire.

“I-I’m fine,” he replied weakly. He was still in only his boxers—his sleepwear of choice—and you wondered how long he’d been here.

“No, you’re not. Come on, let’s get you back to bed…unless you’re going to be sick again?”

As if reminded that he was sick, he quickly leaned over the toilet, vomiting violently. You rubbed his back soothingly before you moved to grab a washcloth, wetting it. After he flushed, his body shook harder, and he collapsed back onto the floor.

"Okay...I think I'm done,” Sonny murmured, voice soft. “I gotta get dressed…I have work—”

“You are not going to work like this,” you said tersely, cutting him off.

“B-but doll, I have 3 motions hearings, an arraignment—”

“I don’t care. You’re going to bed. You’re resting.” To make your point, you lifted him from the floor, cradling him in your arms. He was still shaking violently, his body covered in a sheen of sweat, his face red. You placed him gently in the bed, tucking him in under the sheets. Then, you put the cold washcloth on his forehead.

“How long have you been in the bathroom? How many times have you been sick?” you asked.

Sonny’s head lolled on the pillow. “I…lost count. I woke up when it was still dark out…I think around 3? 4?”

You nodded. “Okay…we have to break the fever. You lay here, rest. I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to grab you some water and Gatorade to keep you hydrated.” Before you left him, you snagged his phone. Unlocking it, you dialed his boss’s number, letting her know that he wasn’t coming in today. Grabbing a couple Gatorades and a water, you made your way back to the room. Sonny hadn’t moved, and he was still trembling slightly.

“Here,” you prompted softly, helping him sit up. You opened a Gatorade, holding it to his lips to drink. You knew you’d have to make him something to eat, too, but this was more important right now.

Once he drank half of it, he laid back down. “I still need to go to work, doll. I can’t call out. Hadid will kill me….”

“Well, I already called her and told her you were on bedrest today. If she doesn’t like it, she can deal with me,” you replied, and Sonny let out a pathetic chuckle.

You sat next to him on the bed, and another violent bout of shakes wracked his body. “I’m cold…hold me?” he whispered. Climbing under the sheets, you wrapped your arms around his sweaty, trembling form.

You both laid there in silence, and you hoped he had fallen asleep. But any wish of that was quickly dispelled as he muttered a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, babe?” you asked.

“You just worked all night—you’re probably exhausted. And now you’re stuck awake, taking care of me. Plus, what if I get you sick? Maybe I should move to the couch, let you sleep…but I’m selfish; I want cuddles…” he trailed off.

You smiled at your impossible boyfriend, even if he couldn’t see it with the washcloth covering his eyes. “Hush—I’m wide awake now. And I don’t get sick…besides, this is just the 24-hour flu; you’ll be fine in no time. Now just sleep, okay?”

You both fell to silence once more, but his shaking never lessened. Finally, Sonny said, “I can’t sleep…too cold.”

“Okay…wait here.”

He let out a low whine as you pulled away from him, and you leaned back to kiss his burning cheek. Then you hurried to the bathroom, turning the water on in the bathtub. Once it was boiling, you pulled the stopper, letting it slowly fill. You watched as the water level rose, then you went back to Sonny, pulling the covers off him. He shivered again, and you quickly pulled his boxers down and off before gently scooping him into your arms once more. He didn’t complain—he loved that you could carry him.

You gently placed him in the tub, and he let out a little groan at the heat. Once the tub was full, you turned the water off.

“You relax here for a little; warm up. I’ll be right back—I’m going to make a call, alright?” you murmured, stroking his hair.

“Okay…thank you,” Sonny gave you a small smile, and you kissed the top of his head before leaving the bathroom. Grabbing his phone again, you opened his contacts. You had this idea while laying in bed with him; you just hoped it worked.

The phone rang and rang before a woman happily answered, “Dom? How are you?”

“Ah, hello Mrs. Carisi. This is [y/n], Dominick’s girlfriend. Sorry to confuse you—”

“Oh, is my son okay?” she asked, worried.

You swallowed—this wasn’t how you wanted the first conversation with Sonny’s mom to go. “Oh, he’s fine. Well, not really…he’s sick. That 24-hour flu, you know? And I was hoping to make him something from his childhood, for when he’d get sick. Maybe soup or something….”

“Sick? Dominick doesn’t get sick, dear. I swear that boy bathes in hand sanitizer…” she trailed off.

You would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for your boyfriend currently marinating in his own sweat and bathwater. “I’m serious—it’s bad. I came home and found him curled on the floor in the bathroom—”

“Oh, I’ll be right over, then! No offense, dear, but I don’t give out family recipes to just anyone. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you—I’m going to try and get Dom to sleep, if you could please enter silently,” you asked, hoping you weren’t sounding too demanding.

Ma Carisi scoffed. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

Hanging up, you moved to throw Sonny’s robe into the dryer, getting it nice and toasty for when he would get out of the bath.

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

You had taken Sonny out of the tub, dried him off, wrapped him in his warm robe, and replaced him in bed by the time Ma Carisi showed up. Sonny had just drifted off to sleep, no longer shaking from cold. You kissed his still burning forehead, heading out to meet her. She was just putting bags down in your kitchen when you found her. She looked so much like Sonny; or rather, he looked like her. But you could see the differences, the parts that were obviously from his father. It did make your breath catch, however, when her eyes connected with yours, and they were Sonny’s eyes.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, dear,” Ma Carisi said, pulling you in for a hug and kiss on the cheek.

You hugged her back. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I wish it was under better circumstances. But I just want to make sure Dom eats something—he’s just now fallen asleep.”

“Let me take a quick peek,” she murmured, moving past you and down the hall. You let her go, looking through the things she had brought over with her, taking out ingredient after ingredient.

She came back soon enough, tsking. “Wow, he really is sick. I could count the times Dominick has been sick on one hand.”

“I…don’t think I’ve ever seen that man sick. He’s a bit of a germophobe,” you laughed, and Ma Carisi smiled.

She moved over to your stove. “Now, let’s get started…before he wakes up.”

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

“So, you and Dominick have been dating for almost a year now, right?” Ma Carisi asked while stirring the contents of the large pot. She took care to not let you see how she was making the soup, only asking you to prepare multiple ingredients at once. Not that you minded; as long as it was done soon.

“Yeah…I remember the very first day that I saw him,” you smiled, your mind teleporting back to when you met Detective Sonny Carisi. He was working with the NYPD to find a rapist who was covering their tracks with arson. Hence the FDNY’s involvement. You were instantly smitten by the lanky man, who seemed to be competent and professional…at least, until he tried to talk to you. Then he turned into a stuttering, flustered mess. It was endearing and cute as hell, and you quickly gave him your number.

Ma Carisi turned to look at you, eyes bright. “And have you talked about marriage at all?”

You smiled awkwardly—that was subtle. “We have…discussed it, yeah. We’re both busy, though, and want to wait a little longer. We’ve only lived together for a few months…. Don’t blame him; he wants to be at least engaged. But I’d rather live together a little bit longer first.”

“It is good to know someone completely first, isn’t it?” she asked, but there was something…passive aggressive in her tone, and she went back to stirring. “Add the onions, please.”

Scooping the diced onions into your hands, you dropped them into the soup. You wracked your brain, trying to come up with something that you knew she’d appreciate. You eventually landed on religion. “It’s God's gift to breathe the air he breathes, to be able to share so much with him. Dom completes me, just like I complete him. I have no doubts in my mind that I’m going to marry him. I just don’t want to rush is all.”

Ma Carisi seemed happy with that response. “The basil…and the oregano, please,” she ordered. She stirred everything in as you added the ingredients. “You know, you could get engaged and just wait your predetermined time to get married.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I know…and maybe we will. But I’d like to at least have a sit-down dinner with you and his father…and the rest of his family. Plus, him with my family before we do that…. Look, I love him in every way that a woman can love a man; I’m not letting him go by any means. There’s just other things I think we should do first.”

She nodded, then opened her mouth to say something when you heard a loud thud from the bedroom. You and Ma Carisi exchanged a look before you hurried down the hall, leaving her to finish the soup. You were stunned to see the bed empty, then rushed to the other side to see Sonny on the floor.

“Dom, baby, what happened?” you asked, helping him up. You gently pushed him back into bed.

“I-I thought I heard my Ma’s voice?” he murmured.

Sighing, you felt his forehead; he wasn’t as hot as before, but he was still warmer than normal. “She, uh, came over to help make some soup for you. Just stay here and rest, okay? I’ll bring her back to say hi,” you explained. He nodded, and you tucked him back in bed before you hurried back to the kitchen.

“Dom’s awake and would like to see you,” you relayed.

Ma Carisi nodded. “Okay; just keep stirring this. It’s almost done,” she instructed. You took the ladle from her, letting her visit with her sick son while you tended to the soup. She was back soon enough, taking the ladle back. She stirred a few more times before pulling the ladle up and taking a test sip.

“Soup’s done; do you have a bowl?” she asked.

You dug a bowl out from the cabinet, holding it while she filled it with the most delicious smelling soup you’ve ever smelt. You carried the bowl carefully down the hall to the bedroom. Placing the bowl on the nightstand, you helped Sonny sit up. Then, you sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the bowl, and scooped up a spoonful of soup. You blew on it until it stopped steaming, then lifted it to Sonny’s mouth. He groaned with satisfaction as you fed him, the soup warming him from within and filling his empty stomach. Unbeknownst to you, Ma Carisi watched from the doorway, a smile on her lips as she watched you feed her son, her heart full.

He ate the whole bowl, and once finished, you helped him lay back down, tucking him back in and kissing his forehead.

“Sleep, babe. You need your rest to kick this out,” you whispered to him.

Sonny hummed in acknowledgement. “Cuddle with me? You still haven’t slept.”

“Okay…. Let me just turn off the stove. I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed the empty bowl, heading back to the kitchen, where Ma Carisi was packing up her things. “I’m going to get out of your hair; it seems like Dominick is in good hands. It was a pleasure to meet you, dear,” she said, giving you another hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Okay…thanks again for coming over. I think that soup’s going to help him kick this in no time,” you replied. “And it was nice meeting you, too. Hopefully, next time we meet will be under better circumstances.”

After she left, you turned the stove off, covered the soup—you could put it away later—then made your way back to the bedroom. Sonny was barely conscious as you climbed into bed next to him. He slowly rolled onto his side, curling against you.

“Thank you, doll, for everything. I love you,” he murmured.

You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “Of course, Dom. I love you, too.” You held him until he fell into a deep sleep, and you dozed next to him. The next time you checked, you were happy to find that his fever had broke.

#sonny carisi x reader #thatesqcrushvdaybingo #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #I love writing ma carisi #as a passive aggressive #'when are you getting married' mom

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

Note

@ ygritte hate post. In broad strokes, we agree Jon and Sansa are on parallel journeys, there is also plenty of parallels between Hound's sexual assault night with Jon and Ygritte (steel kiss, hand on face, and so on). (1/3)

Then Jon gets into it at the water pool, that is his "unkiss", no doubt. Notice though, the details about him getting riled up by sex red hair, she saying she is half-fish, debating fucking your own sister. I'm forgetting stuff of course. I'm sure that chapter is rife with that. (2/3)

Jonsa fans have speculated over Unkiss being a cover for another kiss (always with the cousins, the blood and fire cloak, and so forth). It could be that cave means much the same for him. Like said they are on parallel journeys and there's all those throwbacks to each other. (3/3)

So like Sansa, Jon is repressing something there. Something that happened in the winterfell pools. Bran remembers bathing with his sisters, but unlike Bran (who did saw OSHA getting out of one in that segment), Jon saw something that was a revelation. Like Florian when he saw Jonquil bathing with her sisters. Something red and then wanted to kiss, not downstairs but upstairs. Maybe he did... and maybe Ned caught him at it, because he later dreams of being caught there being innapropriate. (4/3)

In the dream he screams he will never father a abstard, he hates being one for they are lustful creatures born of lust and lies. Like lusting after their sisters. Its not like he is a Targaryen! Distraught, Jon decides to prove his nature wrong. He is not a deviant because he is a bastard lusting after his sister! So he decides to go to the Nights Watch, where he'll be chaste ever. Maybe. Kind of creepy but funny. It all comes together too, all those tidbits that are otherwise scattered. (5/3)

PS: Six maidens in the pool... Six Stark children. Not seven for once either way. And so Jon says in the show "we should have never left Winterfell" because it echoes the We shouldn't have left the cave. And Jon says they'll go back and Yggrite yaps You Know Nothing, but he was right. Jon will go back with the real redhead Sansa, back to Winterfell real pools. (6/3)

Thank you!! This ask really sent my brain whirring.

I already like the idea of the Unkiss drawing from a repressed memory, but I hadn’t noticed how the Ygritte memory-edit might interlock with that.

We have this confirmation that they were fairly natural and relaxed about nudity among children:

"Might be there isn't." She grinned. "What are you staring at, boy? Never seen a woman before?"

"I have so." Bran had bathed with his sisters hundreds of times and he'd seen serving women in the hot pools too. Osha looked different, though, hard and sharp instead of soft and curvy. Her legs were all sinew, her breasts flat as two empty purses. "You've got a lot of scars." (ACOK, Bran II)

Hundreds of times. We know Sansa associated hot water in a bath with Winterfell.

The hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. She had not washed since the day her father died, and she was startled at how filthy the water became. (AGOT, Sansa VI)

So does Jon:

It was short walk to the bathhouse, where he took a cold plunge to wash the sweat off and soaked in a hot stone tub. The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell's muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought. (ASOS, Jon XII)

Then we have the image of the Water Gardens.

It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summer's day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day." (…)

As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection.

(ADWD, The Watcher)

And we know that the children of all ranks played together in the godswood, too.

He had watched wistfully while the Walders contested with Turnip the cook's boy and Joseth's girls Bandy and Shyra. The Walders had decreed that Bran should be the judge and decide whether or not people had said "Mayhaps," but as soon as they started playing they forgot all about him.

The shouts and splashes soon drew others: Palla the kennel girl, Cayn's boy Calon, TomToo whose father Fat Tom had died with Bran's father at King's Landing. Before very long, every one of them was soaked and muddy. Palla was brown from head to heel, with moss in her hair, breathless from laughter. Bran had not heard so much laughing since the night the bloody raven came. (ACOK, Bran I)

It’s fair to conclude that the Jon and the Starklings may indeed have not just played but also bathed together in the godswood.

There is an interesting association with Maidenpool, which is tied to the romance of Florian and Jonquil.

At Maidenpool, Lord Mooton's red salmon still flew above the castle on its hill, but the town walls were deserted, the gates smashed, half the homes and shops burned or plundered. They saw nothing living but a few feral dogs that went slinking away at the sound of their approach. The pool from which the town took its name, where legend said that Florian the Fool had first glimpsed Jonquil bathing with her sisters, was so choked with rotting corpses that the water had turned into a murky grey-green soup.

Jaime took one look and burst into song. "Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool . . ."

"What are you doing?" Brienne demanded.

"Singing. 'Six Maids in a Pool,' I'm sure you've heard it. And shy little maids they were, too. Rather like you. Though somewhat prettier, I'll warrant."

(ASOS, Jaime III)

Jonquil bathed with ther sisters, when Florian first glimpsed her.

The pool becomes filthy and spoiled. Like Sansa’s bathwater, but also like the muddy Winterfell pools. Choked with corpses?

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn't, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night's Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red. (ASOS, Jon VI)

The memory edit and the switch toward “love” in the cave is mirrored in this rather defiant dream, that recalls the pools at home, his father’s watching face, but also the laughter at home in the godswood. A pool in a sacred place spoiled with death.

A memory spoiled by trauma.

Dany, who I would argue is a character strongly foreshadowed in Ygritte, has her own association with sacred pools.

They rode to the lake the Dothraki called the Womb of the World, surrounded by a fringe of reeds, its water still and calm. A thousand thousand years ago, Jhiqui told her, the first man had emerged from its depths, riding upon the back of the first horse.

The procession waited on the grassy shore as Dany stripped and let her soiled clothing fall to the ground. Naked, she stepped gingerly into the water. Irri said the lake had no bottom, but Dany felt soft mud squishing between her toes as she pushed through the tall reeds. The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re-forming as her ripples washed over it. Goose pimples rose on her pale skin as the coldness crept up her thighs and kissed her lower lips. The stallion's blood had dried on her hands and around her mouth. Dany cupped her fingers and lifted the sacred waters over her head, cleansing herself and the child inside her while the khal and the others looked on. (AGOT, Daenerys V)

This recalls Ygritte in the pools and Sansa in her filthy bath. But the presence of the blood of a horse slaughtered for her to eat its heart, the presence of the Stallion that Mounts the World, the prophecy and the things we know comes after... all that is ominous and the kiss of the cold is unlikely to be tender.

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it."

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

"A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

or..

But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,

and a bite sharp and cold as a leech. (ASOS, Jon I)

or...

Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold. (ASOS, Catelyn VII)

The layers in this…

Anyway, there’s foreshadowing to Dany in the Ygritte mess, but it’s not exactly happy, while the Sansa connections in there tend to be positive. Sweet and foul all mixed up.

Sansa “remembering” the Unkiss in relation to kissing children (Margaery’s Girls, Sweetrobin) and with “awful” memories (Myranda’s wedding night) has that same air of mixing something rotten with something that had been perhaps sweet but confusing. I.e. covering a traumatic event with something else.

Then there’s another interesting association with the incest peach.

As she sat in the common room in her stupid girl clothes, Arya remembered what Syrio Forel had told her, the trick of looking and seeing what was there. When she looked, she saw more serving wenches than any inn could want, and most of them young and comely. And come evenfall, lots of men started coming and going at the Peach. They did not linger long in the common room, not even when Tom took out his woodharp and began to sing "Six Maids in a Pool." The wooden steps were old and steep, and creaked something fierce whenever one of the men took a girl upstairs. "I bet this is a brothel," she whispered to Gendry.

(ASOS, Arya V)

Right after this they meet Gendry’s half-sister Bella, a “peach” at the Peach.

“I’m named Bella,” the girl told Gendry. “For the battle. I bet I could ring your bell, too. You want to?”

“No,” he said gruffly.

“I bet you do.” She ran a hand along his arm. “I don’t cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the lightning lord.”

“No, I said.” Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night.

Bella turned to Arya. “Don’t he like girls?”

While the bell recalls Dany, we should remember that

Sansa plays “the high harp and the bells” (AGOT, Arya I)

“Bella” translates to Beauty

this scene is an unsubtle shout-out to Jon stalking out of the welcoming feast after Benjen teased him about fathering bastards and knowing a woman. After calling Sansa radiant. (AGOT, Jon I)

So the Dany hints are joined by the Sansa hints. The Dany hints are negative (bells = battle), the Sansa ones positive (bells = music). Why are the Sansa hints there at all?

Before anyone goes “Jonrya!”, remember:

For half a heartbeat she forgot who she was supposed to be. She wasn't any peach, but she couldn't be Arya Stark either, not here with some smelly drunk she did not know. "I'm . . ."

"She's my sister." Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, and squeezed. "Leave her be." (ASOS, Arya V)

Arya is not a peach, she is a sister. Little sister.

And there’s this:

He liked the deep, sweet ache it left in the muscles afterward. He liked the way the air tasted way up high, sweet and cold as a winter peach. He liked the birds: the crows in the broken tower, the tiny little sparrows that nested in cracks between the stones, the ancient owl that slept in the dusty loft above the old armory. Bran knew them all. (AGOT, Bran II)

Jon only tastes the cold when silver-haired Val tastes sweetness in the air, but way up high the winter peach makes the air taste sweet, too.

"Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones." (ACOK, Daenerys II)

But foul smells might cover sweet ones, too. The Unkiss covers a bitter trauma, but perhaps it was drawn from a more innocent kiss in the past.

The naked red-haired girl by the water might trigger a rewrite of Jon’s perception of Ygritte, but it might draw that from a different kind of confusion, surrounding the same memories that feed Sansa’s editing.

The godswood is certainly a stage for kissing:

As she stood there, all the memories came flooding back to her. Her father had taught her to ride amongst these trees, and that was the elm that Edmure had fallen from when he broke his arm, and over there, beneath that bower, she and Lysa had played at kissing with Petyr.

She had not thought of that in years. How young they all had been — she no older than Sansa, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still, yet eager. The girls had traded him between them, serious and giggling by turns. (…)

Robb got to his feet slowly and sheathed his sword, and Catelyn found herself wondering whether her son had ever kissed a girl in the godswood. Surely he must have. (AGOT, Catelyn XI)

Memories that flood back, young children, innocent games that have consequences much later on, a specific Connection drawn to the Starklings and the Winterfell godswood.

More kissing:

"I won't! I saw you kissing in the snow. She's just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the godswood, but she never meant it, she never wanted you. (ASOS, Sansa VII)

and yet more...

Theon Greyjoy was no stranger to this godswood. He had played here as a boy, skipping stones across the cold black pool beneath the weirwood, hiding his treasures in the bole of an ancient oak, stalking squirrels with a bow he made himself. Later, older, he had soaked his bruises in the hot springs after many a session in the yard with Robb and Jory and Jon Snow. In amongst these chestnuts and elms and soldier pines he had found secret places where he could hide when he wanted to be alone. The first time he had ever kissed a girl had been here. Later, a different girl had made a man of him upon a ragged quilt in the shade of that tall grey-green sentinel. (ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell)

Starklings, kissing and the hot springs all in a paragraph.

I would say there is material here. If GRRM wants to write about Sansa and Jon sharing a memory that involves the hot springs, kissing and references to Florian and Jonquil, he will have planted the hints. It would certainly be a bit poetic if both of them used the same memory soup to create their trauma responses.

Before anyone tries to accuse me of hypocrisy when it comes to age gaps, abuse etc. I do not think this was a case of Jon perving on his young sister. Cat was 12 when she played kissing games with a much younger Petyr and Lysa, and I don’t think we are supposed to consider this a threesome. It’s child’s play. That’s my angle here.

#jon snow #sansa stark #unkiss #anti-ygritte #kissing games #hot springs #pre-canon jonsa #mismemory #jonsa #asoiaf

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

Note

How does Lan Wangji feel about Wei Wuxian's new title, Xinhua-jun?

The first time someone addresses him as something other than Honored Master Wei during an assembly, Wei Wuxian barely registers it.

But in his defense, he’s been up all night for a week straight, hurrying to get his irrigation talismans finished in time for the planting season, and the first batches have just been shipped off with a handful of Lan-trained shidao cultivators accompanying them to supervise.

All Wei Wuxian wanted to do was sleep, after that. It’s a wonder that he stayed awake long enough to attend the conference at all, which is why he doesn’t realize what the petitioners from Moling called him until he takes a soak in his bathtub that night and asks Lan Zhan to rub his shoulders for a while.

“How was the assembly?” Lan Zhan asks, while Wei Wuxian raises the temperature of the bathwater until the washroom fills up with steam. The ability to take long, hot baths without harming his cultivation is the only good thing that came from losing his golden core, and Wei Wuxian made sure to bathe in heated tubs as often as he could after his resurrection; he used to envy the Jiang shimeis in his childhood, since heat only benefits cultivators with excess yin energy, but now...

“Wei Ying?”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian sighs and straightens his back before reaching up to pat his husband’s arm. “It was fine, I suppose. The Su cultivators presented their case, Uncle and I went through it, and then we agreed to all their demands except the one about Moling receiving a sixth of Gusu’s tax revenue.”

“A sixth?”

“They don’t have enough noble families living within their borders,” he says absently, making a small sleepy sound of approval as Lan Zhan pats the tension out of his neck. “The Lai and Xu clans relocated to Qinghe last year, and the Liao family—you remember that clan whose little mistress proposed marriage to Jingyi this spring?— they moved to Laoling the year before that, and they all paid enough taxes to keep the Su clan comfortable.”

Lan Zhan’s hands withdraw from his neck and reappear in his hair a moment later, covered in the sweet-smelling hair soap Wei Wuxian makes from the lotus pond in the back hills. “Did they—treat you well?”

It’s a sensible question, Wei Wuxian supposes, even if the worry in his husband’s voice makes his heart ache with love for him. “Better than most Moling cultivators usually do, Lan Zhan. It was all Xiandu this and Xinhua-jun that, until—”

“They called you Excellency?”

The conversation comes to a swift end at the realization, because Wei Wuxian accidentally swallows a mouthful of foamy water and chokes on it until Lan Zhan helps him cough it up. And then they have to get ready for dinner, and coax the children into finishing it before they fall asleep in their bowls, which is why Wei Wuxian doesn’t think about the conference again until after hai shi.

When the truth of Su She’s association with Jin Guangyao came to light—as Wei Wuxian recalls when Lan Zhan and the little ones are safely asleep—most cultivators from Moling Su seemed to detest Wei Wuxian more than they did while he was dead, if Jiang Cheng’s spies were to be believed. As a matter of principle, none of them even attended Wei Wuxian’s wedding, and offered nothing but flimsy excuses when Lan Xichen traveled to Moling to deliver the invitations in person; and since then, they preferred to keep their distance from him, and would likely have continued to do so if Xichen hadn’t been in Baling for the month to see his new baby grandson.

But today’s petition had been urgent, so Wei Wuxian had to stand in as Lan-zongzhu by proxy while his husband and brother-in-law (not to mention A-Yuan and Jingyi, who accompanied Lan Xichen to Baling) were occupied elsewhere, and none of the Su cultivators were discourteous to him in the slightest.

Oh, no,” he groans, as Lan Zhan tries to hush him with a kiss. “This can’t be good, Lan Zhan. They ordered their city magistrates to send word if I crossed the Moling border, and they turned Xichen-ge down again when he invited them to Chun-bao’s hundred-day feast—you don’t think they’re planning something, do you?”

Lan Zhan only gives him a fond look and kisses him again. “Go to sleep, A-Ying,” he says gently. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

* * *

When Wei Wuxian married into the Cloud Recesses nine years ago, the question of his formal title remained unsettled until after the month before his and Lan Zhan’s first wedding anniversary. If he were a woman, the cultivation world would have known him as Lan-furen, and that would have been the end of it: but Wei Wuxian was a man with no title save that of the Yiling Patriarch, and even Lan Zhan was at a loss when his uncle asked what he should be called following the wedding.

“Third young master Lan?” Wei Wuxian suggested, absently petting Xiao-Yu’s fluffy hair. “Or Wei-gongzi? It doesn’t really matter, Shufu.”

“Third young master Lan is unsuitable,” Lan Qiren pointed out, plopping another baby rabbit into Xiao-Yu’s lap. “Xichen is the sect leader, and Wangji is the Chief Cultivator. Neither of them can rightly be called gongzi any longer, so the titles of first and second young master must pass to Sizhui and Jingyi.”

They settled on Lan-san-gongzi in the end, mostly because everyone already knew that Sizhui and Jingyi were the first and second heirs to the Lan sect, but then Lan Xichen (who remains the best brother-in-law Wei Wuxian could ever have hoped for) came to bring Wei Wuxian his lunch one afternoon while he was working in the produce field, and laughed himself silly at the sight of his difu talking to a particularly stubborn lotus bloom in an effort to get it to grow.

“What a happy flower, to be so doted upon!” he chuckled, passing Wei Wuxian a wet cloth so he could clean his hands and sit down to eat. “Xinhua-jun, xiao-hua, be good for A-Xian and grow, won’t you?”

And then a strange excited grin spread across his face, right before he dropped the lunch boxes into Wei Wuxian’s arms and ran back towards the main compound as fast as his legs could carry him.

Wei Wuxian’s students have called him nothing but Xinhua-jun ever since, even though it was more of a pet name than a title. But it never caught on outside the Cloud Recesses, since most of Nie Huaisang’s court is much older than he is, and Yunmeng still knows him as Wei-zongzhu from the year he spent leading Yunmeng Jiang before he and Lan Zhan were married; and the less said about Lanling Jin the better, even if Jin Ling and Mianmian have been ferreting out the last two sect leaders’ supporters ever since A-Ling succeeded Jin Guangyao.

The thought of his title becoming common knowledge in Moling of all places gives Wei Wuxian a chill down the spine, and he says as much the next evening while going over the reports of young women’s education rates from Gusu’s subsidiary sects.

“Who could possibly have told them? It’s very suspicious,” he grumbles, answering a plaintive letter from a particularly pompous scholar who insisted it was far too much work for his colleagues to teach the boys in the morning and stay three hours longer to teach the girls in the afternoon. Teach them both in the same class, Wei Wuxian writes back, snorting at the man’s foolishness as his daughters climb into his lap to peer curiously at the scroll. If any of the young ladies’ parents prefer their daughters be taught separately from the boys, the Cloud Recesses will send a delegation of lady tutors to Xibei and have a second school built.

“Suspicious?” Shuilan pipes up, before pointing to one of the characters on the scroll. “That’s part of my name! It says shui!”

“Very good!” Wei Wuxian smiles, kissing the top of A-Lan’s head. “Chun-bao, can you find any?”

Chunyang nods shyly against his neck. “A-Chun see cloud,” the baby says, happily smudging the yun in yunshen buzhichu with her little hands before snuggling down into Wei Wuxian’s silky robes. “A-Die, eat? A-Chun is hungry.”

Wei Wuxian glances up at the sky and cries out in dismay as he notices that night has nearly fallen. “Come, come—but A-Lan, sweetheart, put your socks on first! It’s cold in the kitchen, and I don’t want to leave you here all alone.”

“I’m a big girl,” A-Lan complains, as Wei Wuxian laughs again and slides a pair of soft slippers onto her dimpled feet instead. “Can’t I stay with gege?”

“Gege’s taking a bath,” Xiao-Yu shouts—from the bathroom, naturally, since he spends his afternoons getting delightfully muddy in the produce field and moseys back home by sunset with grubs and leaves and rich black earth clinging to his clothes. “Be a good Lan-bao and go with A-Niang.”

At twelve years old, Xiaohui has finally settled on a course of cultivation study, surprising everyone but his parents by deciding he wanted to learn natural cultivation instead of following the martial dao, and he and Wei Wuxian have been working on agricultural talismans together for the past two years; Xiao-Yu even had a hand in the talismans Wei Wuxian just sent out for the border territories, since Wei Wuxian relies on his son’s spiritual energy to activate them. He is so very proud of Xiao-Yu, grubs and mud and all, and Wei Wuxian throws back his head and laughs when his tall son rolls into the kitchen half an hour later with his hair pinned up in a damp knot at the back of his neck.

“Is supper ready, A-Niang?” Xiao-Yu asks, while A-Lan sits at the table with one of her brother’s many, many cats purring in her lap. “Should I lay out the bowls?”

“Yes, please, A-Yu,” Wei Wuxian yawns, swaying back and forth with Chunyang on his hip as he stirs chili paste into his pot of soup. “And fetch a shawl for A-Lan, her clothes aren’t warm enough.”

“A-Niang stir more,” Chunyang tells him, pointing down at the pot. “Not done.”

Wei Wuxian does as she says, breaking up the last chunks of paste just as A-Yu comes rushing back in with a warm shawl to drape around A-Lan’s shoulders. After that, he puts a broad wooden lid over the pot and leaves it to boil, moving from cauldron to cauldron with one hand keeping Chun-bao in place and the other wielding his ladle: a weapon almost as effective as his sword, if A-Yuan’s condemnation of his cooking at the Burial Mounds is to be believed, though Wei Wuxian learned how to cook without covering everything with chili oil during his brief stint as Sect Leader Jiang ten years ago.

“I love A-Die’s food,” Shuilan declares, squeezing Heimao (named, quite literally, for his smooth black fur) in sheer delight when Wei Wuxian plops a bit of hot tofu into her mouth. “If Papa doesn’t come home in five minutes, can I eat everything?”

“A-Lan can eat as much as she wants,” Wei Wuxian promises, because A-Lan is only five years old and eats less than half of what Lan Zhan does. “Come help Yu-gege serve the rice, and then we can eat.”

Lan Zhan comes home late that night, after Lan Yu and Wei Shuilan have finished their dinners and gone to bed. He went to Lanling to help Jin Ling oversee a trial just after mao hour, and his early return is a pleasant surprise; Wei Wuxian nearly weeps with joy when his husband opens the door to the jingshi and sweeps him and A-Chun up into his arms, carrying them to the long divan in the receiving room to kiss them to his heart’s content, and fussing over A-Chun until she toddles away and comes back again with the little bowl of hot soup that Wei Wuxian left on the table with a warming talisman.

“Papa eat,” she says adoringly, curling into a chubby pink ball against Wei Wuxian’s stomach and watching with big eyes as Lan Zhan raises the bowl to his lips. “A-Niang cooked!”

“Your A-Die always cooks dinner,” Wei Wuxian says, kissing the tip of her sweet pink nose. “Remember, Chun-bao?”

“Papa breakfast, and A-Niang dinner,” the little girl agrees, before drifting right off to sleep between her parents with one tiny fist curled around the end of Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon.

Jiang Yanli used to fall asleep like that, Wei Wuxian remembers, safe in Jiang-shushu’s purple-draped bed with him and a toddling Jiang Cheng curled up next to her on either side, and she always stayed asleep no matter how often they squirmed and kicked and whispered over her head.

“Sweetheart?”

“I missed you,” Wei Wuxian sighs, without mentioning where his thoughts had gone—the pain of his shijie’s passing will never heal as long as he lives, but it has been easier to bear with Lan Zhan beside him, if only a little. “Will you have to go again next week, Lan Zhan?”

His husband shakes his head and gives him a lingering soup-tasting kiss on the soft dent over his mouth. “It is finished, my heart. Forgive me for coming home so late?”

Their faces draw together again, yearning towards one another like two mated butterflies forcefully parted as Lan Zhan shifts A-Chun to the crook of his arm and lays Wei Wuxian down on the divan to kiss his cheeks, and his forehead, and then caresses his hands with heart-breaking tenderness, as if he were holding a treasure beyond price. In turn, Wei Wuxian reaches up to touch his husband’s face, tracing the smooth lines of his brow and chin until Lan Zhan catches his fingertips with his lips and pulls him upright to keep Chunyang from getting squashed.

“Let’s put this little lotus to bed,” Wei Wuxian whispers, though it turns into another yawn before he gets to the end of the sentence. “Come with me, xingan?”

His husband—his beloved, precious, perfect husband—goes with him without a word, coaxing their daughter into her sleeping gown and laying her in the middle of the bed without waking her. “I heard some news in Lanling before I left,” he says, while Wei Wuxian helps him take off his Chief Cultivator’s headpiece and put away his waist-pendants. “I investigated the issue with Moling Su, since I feared that they might have a greater grudge against you than we thought, and Jin Ling informed me that the minor sects have begun to address you as xiandu of their own accord.”

Wei Wuxian feels his jaw drop. “What?”

“You have been taking over the portion of my work that cannot be solved by night-hunting,” Lan Zhan points out, as they slip under the covers and tuck A-Chun in between them to keep her warm. “The schools, the trade conferences, the farming failures in the south and the northwest. These matters are resolved by letters written in your hand, not mine, and petitions written to the Chief Cultivator are taken to court by the Chief Cultivator’s husband.”

He pauses to brush their noses together, and then:

“It has been so since you married me,” he says, with a smile that melts Wei Wuxian’s limbs into jelly. “Did you never notice, Wei Ying? It is well known that Hanguang-jun follows the jiandao, and goes wherever the chaos is, and that Xinhua-jun sees to the everyday matters that must be put right for a sect to thrive. Even the clans who would have dared speak against you know it now, and give credit and praises where they are due.”

“I can’t just become the Chief Cultivator by sharing your work,” Wei Wuxian snorts, rolling his eyes fondly as Lan Zhan leans over to blow out the candle on the nightstand. “I’m your husband. What else would I do?”

“I have not yet heard your sister-in-law being called Jiang-zongzhu,” Lan Zhan returns, with a bright spark of mirth in his sweet voice. “Though I suspect your brother would not mind, if she was.”

“Yes, I suppose—but Lan Zhan, surely the minor sects can’t just decide to call me Chief Cultivator? You were chosen for the position by vote.”

“They chose me for Chief Cultivator ten years ago, did they not? And now, since there is no law that two people cannot share the title, they have chosen you. Nie Huaisang will support it, since he lives in fear of me stepping down and making him succeed me as Excellency, and so will Jin Ling. And Jiang Cheng.”

“...I’m never getting out of this, am I?”

“Do you wish to stop?” Lan Zhan inquires, with some concern. “You have done more good than I could ever have dreamed of, but if you do not want—”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” Wei Wuxian begs, thoroughly overwhelmed at the thought of it. “Come hold me, er-gege.”

And Lan Zhan does, hugging him so tightly that all he knows is the sharp scent of sandalwood on his husband’s clothes and the soft-smelling lotus of Chun-bao’s hair until he falls asleep.

* * *

Nanhai Cheng, Baling Ouyang to the Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan

Senior Wei,

When did you become the Chief Cultivator? Jingyi and A-Yuan want to know, but they can’t write at the moment because A-Qing put them on diaper duty. Is it true? Or was A-Ling just making fun of us?

Best wishes,

Ouyang Zizhen.

P.S.—make sure to bring Lan-xiansheng for A-Chen’s full month party! You haven’t forgotten about it, have you?

* * *

The Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan to the Unclean Realm, Qinghe Nie

Nie-xiong,

If I ever find out that this Excellency business was your fault, I’ll steal all your grandchildren and hide them in the jingshi. What in Heaven’s name were you thinking?

Suspiciously yours,

Wei Wuxian.

* * *

The Unclean Realm, Qinghe Nie to the Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan

Brother Wei,

My, such accusations! I really can’t say. But have fun with all the paperwork, Wei-xiong—it’s the best part of the job!

Your (best) friend,

Nie Huaisang.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #my fic #thoroughly in earnest

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quiet-kunoichi · 3 years

Note

“ please….stay, just for tonight. ”

[ misc quotes meme | @suck-my-tomato | verse; post-modern ]

She had come over.

Well, that's not entirely true. Initially, Sasuke had showed up to her apartment after a missed call from her, followed by a quick [text:] im sorry about that. So; in lieu of their weird and strangled conversation the other night, where he offered his support any time she felt close to relapsing (or otherwise, but he wasn't ready to say that aloud just yet) -- Sasuke's slingshot brain thought of the worst conclusion and immediately called her back. But in fact, the call back wasn't so immediate, after all. It had been forty minutes since she had attempted initial contact. She doesn't pick up, and her awkward and uncertain voice tells him 'sorry you missed me. uh, yeah - leave a message and i'll get back to you .. eventually. probably.' The beep of her voicemail catches him off guard; a weird beat of silence begins the message before he mutters a quick, "Hey.. I hope you're alright-- Call me, okay?" Minutes pass with him staring expectantly at the screen. She doesn't call him back; he curses himself for getting caught up in his most recent painting. Unable to contain the swirl of emotions, Sasuke rises to his restless feet. He paces the room a few times, biting at the skin of his lip and glancing over to his blackened phone screen now and again. He even tried sitting back down at his canvas, picking up the brush and the palette again: just to get his mind off of it. Sasuke knew it would be pushing boundaries if he just showed up because she didn't reply in.. twelve minutes. "She's probably fine," He told the room, the drying paint, himself. But clearly he wasn't certain enough - because when his phone vibrates against the coffee table, Sasuke risks the detailed linework by nearly diving out of his seat to snatch his phone. But his once high-strung heart was now rocking heavy in his gut and making him seasick. Just a text from Naruto. He doesn't even bother to read it - instead pulling up the sporadic text conversation with Kimiko and rereading her short message as if he could read between the lines. Fuck it. In cases of recovering addicts, sometimes boundaries would have to be pushed; he was personally familiar. So, Sasuke snatched his car keys from their place beside the door and heads for her apartment. His hands were clammy and stuck to the steering wheel with an iron grip the whole time. What was he going to walk in on? Would this behavior bring up old, bruised memories - would it roll their hesitant friendship back a few steps? Maybe she truly didn't mean to call; maybe she was not even home. Or she was home, but had someone else over. That thought tightened his throat. But nothing compared to the nagging gnat of trauma whispering something much more foul in his ear: perhaps he didn't come soon enough, and the apartment would already be empty. Worse yet - a repeat of the scene he came across a few months ago. No. Sasuke refused to let his brain run down that beaten path: instead, he barely made it through a yellow light and parked on the street across from her apartment building. The next time he blinked, Sasuke was standing in front of her door, fist hanging in the air. Had he already knocked? He can't remember. Kimiko hadn't even the time to quickly soak up the leftover water from her hair and wrap up decently when the second knock came. It sends a zip of fear up her spine; her mouth is gummy, so she cannot even reply. She just wraps the nearest towel tightly around herself and quickly ( and carefully ) pads over to the front door of her rather.. 'minimalistic' apartment. No, she hadn't unpacked fully, yet. It wasn't that she was expecting to pick up and disappear at the drop of a hat; it was just too hard a task, truthfully. Opening the door a crack (seeing as this apartment didn't have the foresight to install peepholes) Kimiko peers through a sliver, a single dull yellow eye landing upon his face. Oh --

Blinking a few times, Kimiko's death grip on her door is slackened in surprise. The door comes open a few more inches, and reveals that she indeed just got out of the bath. "..Sasuke?" She questions, as though the man before her might chameleon into someone else with her next blink. He stammers a reply; an apology - and she tells herself that the color of his cheeks was likely due to the strangeness of his voice, because she could not picture any other reason why he'd feel embarrassed. "H-hey. Uh, I'm sorry. I was just --" He's struggling to figure out how to express his thoughts coherently while she's standing there with her hair dripping and a towel tucked tightly around her slender frame. "You didn't answer, so.. I'm just checking in on you." Was it more awkward to look at her while she was sorta-kinda indecent, or more glaringly awkward to obviously not look at her at all? Her neighbor's door opens; Sasuke is ogled at from across the hall. Kimiko's stare slides over and the decision is made for her: she opens the door and gingerly takes his wrist, beckoning him inside. Closing the door behind him and locking ( the knob, the dead bolt, the chain, the swing-bar guard ) it, Kimiko turns to him and draws his attention back from where it wandered about her empty apartment. Well - mostly empty. Suppose the issue of not having any clutter or decorations was that a lone bottle of whiskey appeared like a glaring centerpiece on her coffee table. She'll behave as though it didn't exist. "Sorry. It's nothing personal; she stares at me, too." Kimiko murmurs, catching that telltale look of concern hardly concealed in his stare as he turns back to her. "Kimiko.." His voice is careful, as though they stood on thin ice and he was chancing the very real possibility that whatever he would say next could make them fall through and catch hypothermia. "I should get dressed," She'd reply, dipping her head and passing him by on her way back to the bathroom. Despite her hope that he would ignore the obvious, too - Kimiko returns to the front room once dressed, and Sasuke is leaning his weight into the arm of her couch rather than sitting upon it. She catches him in a staring contest with the bottle of liquor. Arms tucked across her midsection, she stands adjacent to him and awaits the backfire from being caught -- even if she hadn't indulged in it (yet). "I'm sorry I didn't pick up." Instead of scolding her, Sasuke apologizes. It's.. strange, but quietly welcomed in the stead of worse repercussions. She doesn't respond, because she doesn't know quite how to. So, with fingers steepled and head dipped to the floor between them, he speaks up again; but it's not without strain. "I know I said I'd be available for support if you needed it-" She's expecting him to follow this sentence with a 'but I said it too soon' or a 'but I changed my mind', and she doesn't want the heartache that would follow hearing that kind of statement, so Kimiko cuts him off. "It's fine, Sasuke. Really.. I'm fine." She shouldn't lie like that, but old habits die painfully slow. At last, his gaze lifts and they share a look; one that's hard to place. She knows that he knows she's lying, and she swallows the guilt and shame that comes with that. "I didn't have any. The cap is sealed, if you want to check." She offers the olive branch, and Sasuke truly considers it: but decides against it, in an attempt to show his trust in her claim. Even still, a short sigh escapes her; fingers come up to rub at her eye. Now having a proper look at her, Sasuke recognizes an old shirt she used to wear in high school. It draws attention to how much she's thinned down since then, the fabric now loose in places that it used to hold onto her curves. Dark crescents are worn like ghosts under her eyes, her cheekbones are taut and pronounced in a way he hasn't noticed before. Kimiko speaks up before he has the chance. "I did think about it," She admits, sounding tired. "And I did call," Another admittance, this one with a twinge more shame behind it. He gives a little wince. "But I walked away from it." A half-hearted shrug follows. Actually, she had tossed her phone on the couch and fled to the bathroom, mid-panic attack and desperate to scald and then simmer in a soup of flashbulb memories: just so she could watch them wash down the drain with the soapy bathwater. But a knock on the door interrupted that sequence, and now here they both were.

"It's okay that you didn't answer. I know that .." She hesitates, the fingers at her side starting to pluck at the edge of her shirt. "I know you're busy, with stuff." Ah, real smooth, Kimiko. That totally wasn't obvious. Her lips press firm, and she can no longer bear to hold his gaze, so she drops her own while slowly curling her grip over opposite arm. "And I'm fine to handle it on my own. I've done it before." Yeah, that probably wasn't the best thing to add in, either. "I was working on a painting." Sasuke replies, then turns over his palms to expose the flecks and streaks of paint that litter his pale skin. He's not sure why he felt like she needed the visual proof; but she had offered some tactile evidence with the sealed cap to her bottle of whiskey, earlier - and he wanted to extend the same offering in exchange. To make it a two-lane street, like his therapist had mentioned last week. Before her.. self-inflicted incident - Kimiko had been the only one expressing her efforts to make amends. He wasn't proud of the result; so now, in light of the aftermath: Sasuke wanted to try, too. "Oh." She replies, dumbly. "Um," Umber hues roam around the room, but he continues to look up at her. "..Sorry you came all the way out here to check on me. I didn't have my phone, I was in the bath, and-" Her fingers are plucked from her side and engulfed by the dual caress of both of his palms. He holds her small hand in his own, and places his other hand on top. It strikes her heart, giving it a kickstart as she looks between their clasped hands and back up to him. "Don't apologize." He begins, "I came to check on you because I wanted to." A thumb runs over the top of her hand, trying to soothe. Instead it just gets her heart in a weird flutter; unused to this intimacy, even after all this time. Or, perhaps especially after all this time. "I see." Is her quiet reply. Parting his lips, Sasuke realizes that she's transfixed on her hand sandwiched between his own. He returns it, but admittedly, it isn't without some reluctance: like pulling apart two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle after finally connecting their uneven ends. "..Have you eaten?" He asks, and she appears dumbfounded by the question. "What?" It comes from her mouth laced in confusion. "Have you had dinner? I parked by a sushi restaurant and I was thinking of ordering takeout." He looks up at her expectantly: Kimiko clearly hasn't been eating well enough, and he wouldn't let that slide by him. So, without an answer - Sasuke is already pulling up the menu on his phone, swiping a finger down the menu. "Do you still like salmon, and eel?" He gives her an upward glance; she's getting obviously flustered. "Sasuke.." Now it was her turn to lace her voice with the careful and wary tone of warning. It dawns on him, then -- He'd just invited himself to stay in her space. Casually, too: as if it were commonality. It hadn't been, not in a long time. The realization ( and deflation ) must have been rather obviously etched upon his features, because Kimi is quick to the draw and apologizing. "I'm sorry, it's just- I don't mean-" His hand comes up, and she quiets down. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped the gun like that." He rises to his feet, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "It's not like that,.." She trails off, and without transparency, Sasuke decides to play it safe. "It's okay to be uncomfortable, Kimiko. You've done well to respect my boundaries, and I don't want to push you. I'm glad you didn't relapse." They stand there for a few beats more - until he can't take it anymore, all the things left unsaid hanging between them; he heads for the door. "Sasuke, wait." Kimiko's voice is pressed with a twinge of urgency; she's gone as far as to take a few strides and grasp for his wrist. When he stops and looks down at her over his shoulder, Kimiko reflects the little girl at the playground all those years ago: doe-eyed, perpetually a tad afraid, knowing what she wanted but not yet certain on how to ask for it. She lets go of his wrist and returns her hands to herself, one arm still tucked around her center as the now free hand comes up to collect a strand of her hair. Sasuke turns to face her properly.

"It's not that I don't want to spend time with you," She begins to explain, pressing the knuckle of her finger ( wrapped with a coil of dark hair ) into her cheek. "I really appreciate the offer of sushi, and.. your time." A little inaudible gulp, and a stolen glance back up at him. "I just don't want to be here, really." At last, she's admitted the true hang-up to this entire situation. Slowly, his eyebrows raise -- he understands where her reluctance is coming from, almost immediately. "Kimiko, did he send-?" His concerned question is cut off with a quick toss of her head: No. Or, more likely: No, I don't want to talk about this right now. With a nod of acknowledgement, Sasuke folds his lips before proposing a solution. "Do you want to take the sushi to my place, then? We could watch a movie." His offer is received with a hopeful look on her part: like he had offered a child if they'd like to get ice-cream instead of doing their homework. "..Are you sure?" She has to ask, and it brings a little smile from him, exhaling through his nose. "Yeah, I'm sure." ------------- So their night together had officially begun; ( Kimiko did in fact still like salmon and eel ) - sushi was secured, the drive to his place was shared in amicable silence with the background of music, and the movie was picked effortlessly. Of course, she had perked up after that first ( and hesitant ) bite - and also to nobody's surprise, Kimiko had easily agreed to the movie he suggested; for it was a movie that she was planning to watch, anyway. The night played on without a single scratch or trip in the record, and conversations flowed back and forth without a hitch. They were truly getting along without so much as a hiccup or awkward pause along the way. Now satisfied and lulled, Kimiko was starting to drift upon his couch, curled against the pillow between them. The TV screen washed in red, and Sasuke hums in amusement, dipping his ear towards his shoulder and murmuring, "I guess you were right, Brenda didn't last longer than Stacy. Still, I don't think there's going to be a Final Girl." Kimiko hums something nonsensical, half-muffled by the pillow she'd nuzzled down into. Properly looking over now, Sasuke double-takes the scene beside him; and his heart swells. She was ..well, undoubtedly cute, curled up and dozing off in the smack-middle of a slasher movie. In the moment of privacy, Sasuke unfolds into an unseen smile. A few moments pass as he studies her sleep-slackened face, peaceful and unmarred from bruises or tears. Picturesque from their early highschool years. A little sigh escapes his nostrils, the familiar sense of nostalgia clutching him. Reaching forward, Sasuke plucks the remote from the coffee table and turns down the movie a notch or two before rising to his feet and taking care of the takeout boxes. She's done well to eat most of her food; he's proud that she made the effort. Returning to the couch, Sasuke brings with him a clean blanket from his storage closet. Gingerly, it's draped over the slumbering girl. He returns to her side, arms stretching into his wingspan across the back of the couch. His weight pressing into the cushions beside her causes Kimiko to stir; she tucks herself closer to him, nose following his familiar scent and notching against his shoulder. Sasuke stills in his spot as his old flame stitches slowly back into his side, the familiarity in such an action eliciting a similar response from him. His arm lifts from the back of the couch; it hovers just over her shoulders before slowly settling upon her. A hand cups her arm, sinking down into his seat on the couch and feeling his heart hammer in his chest: God, how he felt like a teenager, again. Those first few instances of intimate physical contact with his best friend whom he had an enthralling crush on: it came rushing back in, now. That twist of excitement tightening his chest in all the right ways, a weird warm flutter in his gut.

Thumb slowly begins to slide up and down over her bicep, Sasuke looking right through the TV screen as he dares let his cheek lower, one centimeter at a time, until it brushes just over the top of her head. He could just close his eyes and be content like this, turn into a statue forever in this position that he didn't realize how much he truly missed. But a shrill shriek from the movie is enough to pull Kimiko from her dreams; eyes slowly blink open before she realizes the circumstance and quickly retreats from the intimate embrace. Kimiko's heart is thunderous in her ears as she reels from the comedown of her otherwise peaceful slumber - eyes rounded into full moons that blink at him while she tries to collect her surroundings. "I- God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I just; I fell asleep." She's tripping over apologies and excuses for her 'inappropriate' behavior, and Sasuke's face is burning with the childish shame of being caught. Now he's flustered, too. "No- It's fine, really -uh, I didn't mind; you were just sleeping- I know." Their awkward dance stifled down into an even worse silence. His fingers twitched at the back of the couch, wanting to reach out and grip her arm so gently, to just quietly pull her in and tuck her under his chin, like the old times. But he doesn't, and her unforgiving grip on the pillow clutched to her chest slowly comes undone. Sasuke watches her, but again, she's receded back into her shell, unable to look over at him while coming down from the level of embarrassment she'd catapulted herself into. On the table between them, Sasuke's phone lights up with a text. Neither of them can see who its from, but Kimiko catches the time before the screen goes dark. "It's late.." She trails off; and he doesn't pick up on what she was insinuating. It was one in the morning, and he’d received a text. She could’ve read the name if she really tried, but she already had a good guess; and it made her stomach curdle. So, with a small swallow, Kimiko rubs her arm and starts to stand up. "I should get going." Suddenly, Sasuke understands - and he cannot bear the thought at this moment, not after all that's transpired: even if given the option this morning, he would've likely not felt any one particular way. Or maybe he would have - thoughts and feelings are scattered all over the place. But one thing was for certain, it was screaming in his head as she collected her things and tucked hair behind her ear, lingering; as though she were waiting for him to say something, anything, god damnit-- "Um, well. Thank you for dinner, and.. sorry I couldn't stay awake through the movie. Guess I'm aging fast," Her attempt at a little laugh breaks his heart. He feels like such an idiot, his tongue tangled into knots and sitting useless in his mouth, his body sewn into the couch. She must think he was just sitting there, waiting for her to excuse herself from his apartment on her own. Fuck. So much time has dragged by, when in reality it was only a single beat of silence before she cleared her throat softly and dropped her arms down. "Don't worry about driving me back, I know the bus routes." Her voice falters at the end, and suddenly, she's turned on her heel and heading with purpose towards his door - like ripping off a band aid. "Kimiko, wait-" Finally, words choke from his throat with his sheer desperation to keep her from leaving. Not again. Up on his feet now, Sasuke made it a whole three feet before realizing with subdued surprise that she had in fact ..waited. Almost as though she were hesitant to actually leave, in the first place. So, she stalls facing the front door and clutching her phone to her chest, lingering - waiting to hear him out. A single golden beam rolls over her shoulder and drinks him in, eyebrow dipped up in an expression of both uncertainty and hope. “ please... stay, just for tonight. ”

Slowly, quietly, Kimiko turns. They share a encapsulating moment, holding a tender stare from across the room. She recognizes the fear etched into his face - that telltale look of expectant abandonment, the childish shrinking away from his own vulnerability. Kimiko won’t leave him; not like she had, before. Before she weighed the fear of entangling him into her corrupted life against the knowledge that every time she slipped away and into the night, a little piece of his heart broke loose. So, as long as he would ask her to -- Kimiko would stay. He holds his heart in the base of his throat - truly expecting that she would turn back around and leave him here, alone. Maybe laugh at him for the inflated hope that she would stay for the night; be there when he woke up in the morning. Instead, Kimi breaks his expectations and approaches with careful, practiced steps - returning to his side. Without a hint of hesitation this time, Sasuke reaches out and scoops her into his embrace. His body was moving of its own accord, playing out the complicated desires of his heart. Kimiko doesn't fight it, nor does she still into ice. In fact, the girl just melts against him; doing what came naturally. It was second nature to tuck her head into the crook of his collarbone, to delicately slip her arms beneath his and hook her fingers into the fabric just over his shoulder blades. His chin rests atop her head, fingers gingerly running large, comforting circles over her back. Everything fell back into place; as natural and second-nature as breathing. There was no effort involved, in this moment of soft re-collision. Only a wish, on both of their parts - that this connection would have happened sooner. That their selfish games of head vs. heart would have been silenced and put out well before this night. Accompanying that desire was the hope that things would really be okay, this time: he would ask her to stay, and she would - he wouldn't mind, and it wouldn't be just for tonight. So, Kimiko had come over; and in the end, she wouldn’t leave his side unless he had asked her to.

#suckmytomato #CAN YOU BELIEVE IT #im unstoppable #i hope you enjoyed this episode of: im obsessed with our otp #HAPPY ENDINGS BABEY #answered;#verse; post modern

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webrokethe4thwall · 4 years

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Venus in the City

A request from @rottmntrulesall for their Little Sister Venus AU. I highly recommend you check their blog out!

After begging and pleading with Splinter, the Turtles and April had finally convinced him to let them take Venus for a ride in the Turtle Tank. Venus fussed only a little as Donnie strapped her into a car seat that he had made especially for her before squealing in delight as the tank roared into life. Her older siblings smiled fondly at the happy noises she made.

“You like that, Venus?” Raph asked, carefully driving through traffic. “You like riding in the Turtle Tank?”

“Yeah!” April cheered in a high pitched voice, waving both of Venus’s arms in the air and pulling a giggle out of the Indian Tent turtle.

Venus’s eyes shone happily. The buildings were moving so fast, and her chair would bump and rattle in the most fun way! This was great!

“Wait, was that—” Donnie started as he squinted out the window.

Suddenly, the Turtle tank swerved as the Foot Lieutenant, Foot Brute, and Foot Recruit landed on the hood.

“Turtles!” Foot Lieutenant rasped. “Prepare for defeat!”

“Oh, come on!” Leo groaned. “Can’t we go for one drive without some bozos ruining everything? How’re we gonna deal with these guys with Venus here?!”

“Like this!” Donnie flipped a switch, and Venus was pulled into the back of the tank and encased by a clear dome. “That bubble is made of a highly damage-resistant material that will keep Venus safe while we deal with these jerks.”

“Don’t worry, Venus,” Mikey comforted the confused baby as their siblings rushed out of the tank. “We’ll be back soon. Just sit tight!”

And like that, Venus was alone in a bubble in the Turtle Tank as the teenagers battled the Foot Clan just out of her sight. The baby chewed on her teal ribbon tail for a little while before growing bored. Venus didn’t want to be in her chair anymore. She wanted out!

A moment later, Venus felt herself slipping free of her car seat, out of the bubble, and through the Turtle Tank’s floor. Her brothers and sister were still in heavy combat though, and the baby didn’t like how loud they were being. Closing her eyes and crawling forward, Venus slipped through dimensions to get to someplace quieter until her siblings were done fighting.

“That didn’t take very long at all,” April said as she and the Turtles climbed back into the Turtle Tank.

“I guess they didn’t restock their paper from the last time we fought them,” Raph gloated, hefting himself back into the driver’s chair.

“Let me put Venus back in her spot, then we can get rolling again,” Donnie said. Flipping another switch, the protective bubble pulled away, and the car seat returned to its original position. “Ready to go, Ve-ven-oooh, boy.”

When they all saw the empty car seat, their stress levels skyrocketed, but it could’ve just been Venus messing with them. April swiped her hand through the air just to be sure. They all shared a look and started freaking out.

“Where did Venus go?!” Mikey screamed. “She’s just a baby! What’s going to happen to our sister?!”

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“Where’d yous come from?” Venus blinked her eyes open to find Repo-Mantis staring down at her. She had traveled all the way to the junkyard. “You lost or somethin’, kid? I’m not a fan of turtles runnin’ around my junkyard.”

“Baah! Puh!” Venus babbled, crawling between Repo’s legs and disappearing further into the junkyard.

“Where d’ya think your off’ta?” Repo asked, ducking to follow the baby turtle’s travel. But she was gone. She had literally disappeared. “Wha?”

Not wanting a baby mutant wandering around his place of business, Repo went to look for her. He soon found her in his electromagnet. She managed to swing the heavy machine to hang over the school bus plugging Mrs. Nubbins’ den.

“Wait, no, no, no, no!” Repo shouted, rushing towards Venus. “Not that scrapheap, kid! Stop!” Too late. The bus pulled free, and the cat-mantis was unleashed. Repo immediately about-faced and ran away from his beloved pet.

Growing bored of the purple bugman and the machinery, Venus slipped out of the electromagnet and crawled out of the junkyard. She quickly caught wind of something that smelled delicious! A yellow van topped with a T-bone steak was parked across the street. What was over there that smelled so good?

“My, my, what have we here?” Venus was lifted up by metal hands that brought her face-to-face with a smug Meat Sweats. “You’re just the ingredient I needed for my latest recipe! How fortuitous for me.”

He plopped the baby turtle into the broth heating up on the stovetop, scrapped in some chopped up veggies, and sorted out the seasonings that would “unleash the flavor” within Venus. The Indian tent turtle gurgled delightedly in what she thought was tasty-smelling bathwater. She munched on a carrot piece, splashing in the broth, when pepper suddenly dusted her snout.

“That should do it,” Meat Sweats said. As he cleared away his spices, he noticed Venus scrunching up her face. “What’s that look for? My seasoning is perfectly balanced.”

He drew closer to the pot just as Venus unleashed a powerful sneeze. The sneeze was followed by spikes shooting out of her shell, flying all over the food truck’s kitchen. Meat Sweats squealed in horror. He knocked the pan off the stovetop and out of his truck, baby turtle and all, as the spikes pinned him by his apron to the cabinets.

“Oh, rubbish,” Meat Sweats grumbled.

Venus continued to chew on the veggies remained in the pot with her after the tumble when the she was lifted up once again. This time it was orange crab pinchers that carried her into an alleyway. So many new people in one night!

“Hey, Carl, check it out! It’s one of those turtle mutants that we hate, but littler!” The crabman without pinched Venus’s cheeks. She whined in displeasure and swatted his pincher away. “This one would be way easier to eat, and she’s already in some soup!”

The crabman with hair poked Venus’s cheek and felt his heart melt like butter when she sucked on his claw. “Pass, Ben. That’d be messed up. Maybe if she was bigger.”

“Bah?” Venus questioned, releasing the claw from her jaws. Bigger? What did that “bigger” mean? Steadily, the pot she was sitting in started getting tighter. Venus’s line of sight climbed, higher than when she sat on Raph’s head! The crabmen seemed to begin to panic. The baby turtle giggled and clapped her hands as the crabmen did a silly dance in front of her.

“This is not what I meant!” Carl shouted, swinging his arms wildly as the baby turtle quickly grew to double his and his brother’s size. Ben and Carl ran in wild circles for a moment before crashing into each other hard. The shock from the impact and panic from the giant infant knocked the duo unconscious.

Venus stared at the still crabmen before shrinking down to her normal size. They weren’t doing much more than breathe at this point, and the Indian tent turtle wanted something more entertaining than that. She crawled away and soon heard the laughter of children at a playground. All those colors and kids looked fun! Venus was all set to join them when something flopped onto her head and over her eyes.

“Turtle! Prepare to taste defeat at the hands of your greatest foe, Warren Stone!” The long pink thing in a purple jacket rolled into a dramatic offensive pose before the Indian tent turtle. “I won’t hold back just because you’re a ba-argh!”

Venus gripped the worm mutant by his throat and pulled his stretchy body as far as she could. This was a great toy! She whipped Warren around like a lasso and laughed brightly at the way he yelled. He made really funny noises, too! A white dove then flew into Venus’s line of sight and made her think of the cartoons she and Mikey would watch where birds would flock around the worm and beat them up. Attention drawn away, the baby mutant dropped the mutant in her hands and followed the dove.

“Where are you going?!” Warren shouted after her. “I’m not done with you yet!” He was then surrounded by a flock of large pigeons that had materialized out of thin air. “Or maybe I am.” The flock proceeded to attack the worm mutant. “Aaagh!”

Venus followed the dove for a few blocks, watching it land on the broad purple shoulder of Hypno-Potamus.

“There you are! Back in the hat you go,” Hypno said. He placed the dove back in his magic hat, poofing the accessory away, and caught sight of the baby turtle. She clapped at the sight of the hat disappearing, eyes wide with wonder. “You like that trick, little lady? Wait a tic, where is your family?” He glanced up and down the empty street then shrugged. “How about a little magic show until they come along?”

At the baby’s impartial gurgling, Hypno started performing tricks for Venus. She was delighted by the multicolor hanky rope the magic hippo pulled out of nowhere. Hypno clapped his hands together, and the hanky rope had transformed into a rainbow of cards floating between his palms as he drew them apart. Hypno flinched back at how high-pitched Venus’s surprised shriek was.

Where’d the rope go?! How’d the cards fly in the air like that? Was he magic like Leo and his portals? Was she magic? She looked at her own hands, clapped them together, and opened them herself. Cards floated between her palms, just like Hypno! She was magic!

“How’d you do that?” Hypno asked, just as surprised as Venus. He smirked and snapped his cards away. “Let’s see you copy this then!” He conjured up his top hat once more, and doves rocketed out from its depths.

Venus unleashed amazed laughter. Her cards disappeared as she waved her hands towards the birds flying up into the air. However, her happiness turned to fear once the flock of doves changed directions and flew straight at the baby turtle. Scared and confused, Venus screamed at the doves and the unfortunate magic hippo behind them as well.

“Argh!” Hypno cried out. He pressed his hands onto his ears, but the baby turtle’s scream was too strong. He squeezed his eyes shut against the birds that swarmed past him, missing Venus scramble away. All he was left with was ringing ears and a sense of confusion.

Venus blinked around tearfully at the fancy hotel she somehow entered. She crawled around the front desk and sat down. She liked birds, but those had gotten way too close way too fast.

“Hey, who’s kid is this?” A bellhop asked as he rounded the desk. “She doesn’t have a cloaking broach.”

“Take her to the yokai floors,” another bellhop said. He sniffed the air around her. “And see that she gets cleaned up. She must’ve gotten into the kitchen and lost her broach somewhere along the way if her scent is anything to go by.”

“All right, little one, let’s go.”

Venus let the bellhop carry her into the elevator and was happy to get a bath for once. The broth from earlier was starting to make her scales itch. She also liked the gentle attention the funny creatures in the red suits gave her. They were almost as good as her big brothers and big sister!

“Oh, she’s so pretty in that shade of teal!” The octopus yokai who had given her a bath said, carefully bouncing her in front of the other bellhops.

“Is she one of our guests?” A fox yokai bellhop asked, letting Venus fiddle with his hand. “I don’t recall any turtle yokai staying with us. And that mask kinda reminds me of those other turtles who keep breaking in.”

“What seems to be the piddly-problem here?” A sickeningly sweet asked from behind employees.

“Big Mama!” The octopus yokai spun to face the powerful spider yokai. “We seem to have a lost guest in our midst!”

Big Mama bent down to get a better look at Venus. She was stare was intense and unwavering. The yokai holding the baby and the bellhop were starting to sweat from how long Big Mama was locking eyes with the Indian tent turtle. Then, the disguised spider yokai squealed in delight, sweeping Venus into her arms and cuddling the baby close.

“Oh, what a splendiferously precious, teedly tiny turtlely-boo!” Big Mama cooed, rubbing her cheek against Venus’s. Venus laughed as Big Mama’s hair tickled her neck. “Such sprinkly-sparkly eyes! A fantampulous giggle as lovely as her ribbon!” She pulled back and considered the child in her arms once more. “Come! Big Mama will take care of you.”

Venus burbled contentedly in the purple lady’s arms. She reminded the baby of her daddy with how she talked.

“But Big Mama, what about her family?” the bellhop asked. “Won’t they be worried about her?”

Big Mama gave the bellhop a scathing look. “If her family truly loved her, she wouldn’t be lost and causing such a fizzywinkle among my on-the-clock employees! I shall deal with this doodlie-bug’s family if they ever show up.”

Venus chewed at the end of Big Mama’s cravat, watching the other yokai shrink away from the pretty purple lady. She must’ve been tough like April and Donnie for everyone to be so scared of her. Venus loved how much attention this “Big Mama” was giving her, but she was starting to want her brothers, sister, and father the longer the lady held her. Maybe everyone was done being loud by now? She should go back to her car seat. Venus started fussing and struggling to get to the floor.

“Oh, what’s wrong, cutie-doodle?” Big Mama asked. “Don’t fuss.”

When Big Mama lifted her higher and started walking away from the other yokai, Venus began to struggle in earnest. She didn’t want to be in this fancy building anymore! She wanted her family! Put her down! She slipped, quite literally, through Big Mama’s fingers and crawled as fast as she could towards the elevator.

“What?!” Big Mama shrieked. “Catch her!”

Suddenly, bellhops galore blocked Venus’s path. The baby didn’t stop for a second before she was crawling up the walls and onto the ceiling. All of the bellhops stared up in shock at her. However, the owl bellhop shook off his surprise, leapt up, and pulled the baby mutant into his arms. The unfortunate bellhop soon found his hands full of many Venus’s piling one on top of the other until he toppled over. Each bellhop and even Big Mama caught a duplicate before she hit the ground.

“Well,” Big Mama said, obviously ruffled. “That was unexpected. Are you quite done, turtle-boo?”

That’s when the acid vomit started shooting out of every Venus’s mouth.

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“Why doesn’t she have a tracker on her?” Leo yelled at Donnie. “You put a tracker on everything.”

“I wanted to!” Donnie yelled back. “But you all thought it was too extreme to put a tracker on a five-month-old!”

“Since when did you listen to us about where to put your trackers?!” Raph yelled.

This fighting was getting them nowhere. The Turtle Tank tore through the streets as the worried siblings searched for their missing little sister. They had chased of the Foot after five minutes max of combat. They had locked the tank door. Where could Venus have gone? Who could’ve been able to take her?! If it hadn’t been for sporadic dust clouds shooting up from Repo-Mantis’s Junkyard, they wouldn’t have had a clue where to start.

“Return our sister, you fiend!” Mikey demanded.

His family jumped out of the tank, armed and ready, only to see Repo dodging and running away from Mrs. Nubbins. Well… they weren’t expecting that. Repo was pretty good at keeping his beloved murder cat contained.

“Do we help him?” Leo asked slowly.

“No,” Donnie said. “This is a waste of time!”

“He might know something about Venus, though,” April countered.

“Alright, Mad Dogs,” Raph said. “Get that cat-mantis!”

One determined sibling fight later, Repo found himself on the business end of Leo’s odachi.

“Hey, bug-man,” Leo greeted. “You see a baby turtle mutant pass by?”

“That little thing was with yous guys?!” Repo yelled.

“And don’t even think about lyin—what?” Donnie asked. “You’ve seen our baby sister?!”

“Yeah,” Repo said, head lulled back. He may as well tell the kids what they wanted; they had saved his life after all. “She must’ve crawled off after letting Mrs. Nubbins out a minute ago. Came outta nowhere, that kid. Left outta nowhere, too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” April demanded.

Muffled shouting from across the street drew the teenagers’ attention away from Repo, who took this opportunity to slip away. With their initial target gone, they went to investigate where the shouts had come from. April was the first to see the familiar food truck parked across the street. Something pointy stuck out at several spots on the outside of the truck.

“Meat Sweats!” she yelled, throwing the ajar backdoor open wide.

“Not you lot!” Meat Sweats groaned from where he hung on the wall. “One turtle disaster was enough!”

“Give us our sister!” Raph said, pulling the pig mutant free and dangling him in the air.

“That little terror is your sister?!” Meat Sweats roared. “Does the big one here shoot spikes, too?!”

“What? No,” Raph denied, lifting Meat Sweats higher. “Where’s our sister?”

“I threw her out, pot and all, when the spikes came flying at me,” Meat Sweats explained.

“We’re coming, Venus!” Leo yelled, tearing out of the food truck with his other siblings as Raph continued to hold Meat Sweats.

“Stop. Trying. To eat. My. Family!” Raph snarled in the pig mutants face before going to join the others.

Leo and Donnie were on the rooftops, looking in every direction for a hint of teal of their bubbly baby sister; Mikey and April scourged the alleys and streets for signs of Venus; and Raph patrolled in the Turtle Tank. A few moments later, the three groups converged where scraps of metal and two mutant crabmen lay uselessly in an alleyway.

Donnie prodded the mutants with his tech bo, saying, “What happened to you guys? Wait. Let me guess—you found a little turtle and she beat you up?”

The crabman with hair opened one eyestalk, saw the frustrated and near-feral teenagers looming over him and his brother, and shook his head.

“No, she got big, and my bro and I freaked out so much we knocked each other out. I thought she was gonna eat us.”

“Okay.” Donnie crouched down to look the crabman in the eyes. “First of all, she’s just a baby. Worst thing she can do to you right now is bite your exoskeletons. Second, where is she?” The crabman without hair raised a claw and wordlessly pointed towards the park across the street. “Thank you, gentlemen. You will not be eviscerated today.”

The Sando brothers cowered away from the determined children and slunk into the sewers as they crossed the street. The park was empty at the moment, so April wasn’t worried about anyone seeing the giant mutant turtles wadding through the bushes.

“Venus!” April and the others called in intervals, tearing the park upside down for their baby. “C’mon sis, where are you?”

“You guys looking for a baby turtle?” Warren Stone asked. He was chilling on a park bench, sipping a smoothie.

“Warren Stone!” April squealed. She ran up to her news anchor idol. “Do you know where our sister is? She’s got a teal mask and a pretty defined shell.”

“Yeah, she crawled that a-ways about ten minutes ago,” Warren said waving in the general direction. “Chasing a bird or something. No respect for the laws of mortal foe combat.”

“Thanks Warren! Stone-head for life!” April ran off to get her brothers. “I got a lead! Venus isn’t here anymore, but I know where she went!”

“Lead on, April!” Leo said.

April led them in the direction Warren Stone had waved in, and they soon came across Hypno. He was shouting and swinging a top hat at a flock of doves swarming over his head.

“Hypno!” Mikey shouted, wrapping the chain of his kusari-fundo around the hippo mutant. “Where’s our sister?”

“What?” Hypno shouted. “I don’t know anything about a ‘blister.’”

“I said sis-ter,” Mikey yelled. “Baby turtle mutant. Teal mask. Where?”

“Never met one,” Hypno shouted. “Why would a lady turban merchant need a flask? Speak up! I can’t really hear at the moment.”

The teenagers groaned. This was getting them nowhere!

“Did you lot happen to lose a baby turtle?” Hypno asked. “One passed by a minute ago. I gave her a magic show, but the doves scared her off.”

“Where’d our baby sister go?” Mikey yelled as clearly as he could. Hope shined in the box turtle’s eyes.

Hypno seemed to wilt from the question. “I don’t know. She let out a killer scream that took out my doves and my hearing. I didn’t see where she went.”

“That would explain the screaming-match,” Leo grumbled. “Mikey, let him go. Venus isn’t here.” But she has been causing some top-tier mischief.

Raph brought the Turtle Tank around for everyone to pile in and regroup. Now what? Hypno was their last lead to finding Venus, and he didn’t know where she crawled off to. How did her screaming make the hippo mutant go that hard of hearing anyway? Sure, the baby had a loud voice but not loud enough to make someone go near-deaf. Right?

“Now what, team?” Raph asked. “Where do we look next?”

“Well,” Donnie started. Then explosions erupted from the Nexus Hotel in the distance.

“FOLLOW THE CHAOS!!!” April shouted.

Moments later, the Turtle fam burst into Big Mama’s hotel, weapons drawn and ready to take on the spider yokai. The sight that greeted them was not what they expected from the usually put-together criminal boss. Small fires lit up parts of the lobby and stairs, yokai and humans alike were either flopped over broken furniture unconscious or shaking in absolute terror. A yokai ran from one end of the room to the other screaming his head off.

“What happened here?” Leo asked, lowering his sword.

“I don’t know,” Donnie said, looking at his wrist scanner and typing on it. “I’ll hack into the security feeds; you guys keep an eye open for—”

Big Mama chose that moment to leave the elevator in giant yokai spider form. The first thing the Turtle fam did was pull into a tighter circle, defending Donnie as he reviewed the hacked feeds. They noted how she looked, well, battered, bruised, and burned. Big Mama looked at the teenagers with six tired eyes, down at her thick arms, then back at the teenagers. She slowly walked towards them.

“Does this belong to you?” she asked, voice wavering from exhaustion.

Extending her arms, Venus dangled from her hands.

“Venus!” They all cried.

Raph carefully took Venus into his arms and backed his entire family as far away from Big Mama as he could. His siblings launched themselves onto his arms, kissing and cooing at the baby turtle warbling happily back at them. Before they could interrogate the spider yokai about how she got her claws on their precious baby sister, Big Mama passed out less than gracefully in her lobby.

Raph quickly carried his family back to the Turtle Tank where they continued to fawn over their baby sister, relieved to have her back and taking turns holding her close. Donnie held Venus very carefully. She had somehow gotten out of one of his inventions specially designed to protect her, and he took it personally. How had it happened?

“Let’s see how you got into Big Mama’s hands, shall we?” Donnie said, passing Venus off to April and hooking up his gauntlet to the tank’s display screen.

As the security feed played out, the Turtle fam watched with increasing shock as their baby sister all but destroyed the Nexus Hotel. From the very moment that she went intangible in Big Mama’s arms, to crawling up onto the ceiling, duplicating, and puking up acid, the teens couldn’t look away. Then things really got weird.

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Venus screamed in the arms of every bellhop that held her, causing them to drop the duplicates to cover their ears. Big Mama wasn’t so lucky. She held the original baby turtle. Big Mama had to transform into her yokai form in order to cover her ears and not drop the baby.

“Hush, cutie-doodle!” Big Mama tried to soothe the child.

No! Venus didn’t want the spider lady anymore. Maybe if they couldn’t see her, they’d leave her alone. Leo played peekaboo with her all the time. Maybe the same rules applied? Venus covered her eyes and held as still as possible. She heard a gasp of surprise and suddenly felt her bottom hit the ground.

“Where’d she go?” a bellhop asked.

“I don’t know,” Big Mama replied. “She was right here! Find her!”

Venus crawled away as the bellhops and Big Mama waved the air around the ground searching for her. She made it to the elevator right as it was closing before becoming visible again.

“There she is! How’d she get in the elevator?!” a yokai yelled out.

The crowd tried to get to the baby turtle, but the doors had already closed. Venus blinked. She looked around the box-like room she was in. How did these things work again? She spotted the shiny panel of buttons and made grabby hands at them. They were too high up! The Indian tent turtle’s line of sight was soon above the panel of buttons. She could totally reach them now! Venus slapped the panel happily. The room felt like it was moving.

When the doors opened again, there were bellhops waiting. They, unfortunately, were not expecting the little baby to have grown to be bigger than their employer. Venus mowed them down as she crawled into the hallway. She found a stairwell and wandered her way down a few flights before shrinking down again.

The door was too heavy for her small body to open. However, she didn’t hesitate to crawl right through the wall to the other side, which just so happened to be a fish tank. Venus loved swimming! She followed the exotic fish in the tank for a minute or two, completely missing the looks of horror guests and employees alike gave her for how long she was in there. What? It wasn’t like she was gonna run out of air. She did this all the time at home.

“There you are!” Big Mama cheered, scooping the baby turtle out of the water tank. “Oh, now you’re all sobbled! Come, dear, let Big Mama dry you off.”

Oh, not this lady again! Venus huffed and puffed, struggling to get out of the gentle but firm grip. Then, she felt something shoot out of her shell. Screaming rang out around her, and Big Mama gasped. Venus looked around and saw several spikes impaling pillars and pining people to the walls. The baby clapped, clearly enjoying the silly poses the yokai had struck to avoid the spikes.

“That’s quite enough of that,” Big Mama admonished. Neither yokai nor baby noticed the pillar behind them starting to fall over. “I’ve had enough fizzywinkles in my hotel today, thank you.”

The pillar groaned and slammed on top of the two females. The bellhops rushed to lift the pillar from Big Mama, who was banged and bruised from its weight, but Venus was perfectly fine. Her scales had formed into a silver armor, leaving a baby turtle shaped hole in the raised column.

Then, a fire started from one of the spikes slicing through an electrical outlet. Everyone started screaming and running. Venus started crawling away again. And—

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Donnie shut of the video feed. He, Raph, Leo, Mikey, and April stared at Venus in shock. Raph quickly drove them home. After the teens all gathered in the living room, they collapsed into a heap of exhaustion, stress, and disbelief. Splinter walked in to see Venus sucking her thumb on top of Donnie’s chest as the soft-shell gently patted her head.

“Ah, there’s my precious little girl!” Splinter smiled. “Come to Daddy, Venus.” He lifted Venus to his hip and rubbed his nose to her beak. “So, how was her first ride in the Turtle Tank?”

Splinter raised an eyebrow in confusion at the way the teens groaned and sunk even further into their sibling pile.

Mikey shot up from the pile and shouted, “VENUS HAS POWERS,” then sunk back to his place between his brothers and April.

What a chaotically long day.

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