You open the test booklet. The first page is formulas. The second page is formulas. They’re all formulas. You can’t find the questions. Everyone around you is diligently working. You flip through the booklet but all of it is formulas. They consume you.
“Close your booklet and stop working.” Pencils sound as they hit the desk. Time is called. Time doesn’t answer. Where is it? It is lost. You are all lost.
You are told to seal the multiple choice question booklet. The white labels don’t fit properly in the designated sections. None of this fits. You may never discuss these questions. They no longer exist. They never existed. Ryan tried to fight back. They drag him away. Ryan never existed either.
The test references AP students in it. Haha. The test is very funny. Laugh. College Board wants you to laugh. College Board just wants to be friends. College Board is very friendly. College Board beckons you closer. Closer. They are very funny. L A U G H
You may only use black or blue ink. Your pen breaks. The ink spills everywhere. Milky black liquid falls over everything you knew and loved. The College Board confiscates it. “How can we accurately assess your skills without gathering all your materials?” They smile. You never noticed they had so many teeth before.
The proctor reads the instructions and you begin writing. The proctors circle you. They lean over your test and make disapproving noises. They are hunting. They pick out the weak. You will be next.
1. You look at a map of a city you’ve never been to.
You see patterns and street names and they tell you nothing. The map remains dead, the city unknown.
2. You go to the city you’ve never been to.
It becomes a city you know.
3. You look at a map of a city you’ve been to, but have left behind. As you look at the map, you remember.
You are looking at nostalgia. You walk through street names and remember the taste of cake in the café whose name you forgot, but you remember its yellow walls and comfy chairs. A square is no longer four lines on a map, but an open space with people and statues and laughter and a fountain in the center. The monotonous, two-dimensional blue that indicates an ocean turns into postcard memories, so many shades of blue and green and the smell of salt and fish. The famous building with the famous name that everyone knows is now a personal experience, it is yours and yours alone in a way that will never make it anyone else’s. A billion feet have walked these (now familiar) paths and two of them were yours. You can trace the steps you have taken and you remember feelings and colours and strangers who offered you a smile. There is the hostel you slept in, there is the river you crossed so many times, there is the corner where you listened to the most amazing street musician. You fondly whisper street names that you had trouble pronouncing when you first spoke them, clumsily. You connect dots, and they turn to images in your head.
The map is alive, the city an old friend.
4. The map you look at is always the same; the perception is different. It is you who has changed.
p.s. // every time i look at a map I have a feeling that is hard to put into words
To all the writers who have ever felt lost, alone, and completely confused during the labyrinthine journey that is writing anything, and felt like screaming this at your story …
There’s a light at the end of that darn tunnel. First, let me describe how I used to fight my way out of these periods of confusion and hopelessness.
Usually, I would try to force myself to get back into the groove of the story. I would reread it, and be yelling at myself in my head, “Remember why you love it! LOVE your book again! Keep reading and FALL IN LOVE, damn it!” I’d go over descriptions, bits of dialogue, banter between the characters. I’d go over settings and imagery, and try to make myself remember how much they’d once excited me. I’d read things that had made me laugh when I typed them, sentences that I was particularly proud of, paragraphs that made me feel particularly clever. But the thing was, it didn’t work.
I didn’t care.
What was the problem? The problem was some of those descriptions, settings, images, and witty episodes of bantering had no Story Reason to be there. They were just there because they amused me. Just because I found the imagery beautiful. Just because I found a sentence or joke really clever and wanted to share my wit with the world. But the world didn’t care about my wit. Because the world (the people reading my book) knew subconsciously that there was no story to give that so-called witty sentence substance and meaning. I could create the most breath-taking images, I could make the most well-rounded living and breathing character, I could make a setting that you wanted to run away from home and live inside … and it didn’t matter. If the thing didn’t have a purpose for being there within the narrative, nobody cared. And I didn’t either.
So what is a Story Reason?
Everything in a story exists to support one of three things.
1. The A-story: The surface plot, the quest of the main character to achieve a specific tangible goal. What the story is about on the surface.
2. The B-Story: The love story, or relationship of the thing. Usually this relationship is instrumental in causing the third element, which is …
3. The Character Arc. The theme of the story, the purpose, the piece of truth the story seeks to prove to the main character and the audience.
If something in a story doesn’t contribute to the progress of these three, there’s no reason we should care about it. It has no point. Because in the end, all we care about is the story!
When it comes to scenes, story reason means continuity. It means the way the story unfolds logically. If every scene is there for a darn good reason, the scenes after and before will make total sense, they’ll connect seamlessly, a steady progression of events. Every scene’s turn triggers the next scene.
And to do this, every scene must be able to be linked with three words:Because of that.
Because of the turn of one scene …
The next scene happens.
And because of the turn of that scene the next scene happens.
To illustrate how this works, let’s look at a small movie you might have heard about called Zootopia. (Thanks to @inked-withlove for the movie suggestion!)
So let’s start at this point, the turn of the scene with Clawhauser and Judy searching the file on Emmitt Otterton.
Turn: “I have a lead."
Because of that …
Judy has to get Nick to tell her what he knows about Otterton.
Turn: It all goes poorly, and now Nick and Judy are stuck together by an incriminating adorable carrot recorder. (The B Story, the relationship, has intertwined with the A Story.)
Because of that …
Nick takes Judy to the place he saw Otterton go, a place he thinks will cause her to give up.
Turn: She doesn’t quit, she marches right in. (B Story: Nick sounds surprised, and a little impressed, that she didn’t back down.)
Because of that …
She has to question a rude yoga-performing elephant.
Turn: Though the elephant is absolutely no help, the seemingly addled yak is more than helpful – he even remembers the license plate number of the car Emmitt left in.
Because of that …
Nick thinks his part in this endeavor is complete. But Judy remembers that she’s not in the system yet, and thus can’t run a plate. Nick, however, can. And he’s going to, or else.
Turn: It just so happens that he has a pal at the DMV.
Because of that …
Sloths. He takes her to a DMV run by sloths and wastes as much of her precious dwindling time as he can.
Turn: “It’s night?!”
Because of that …
Legitimate Enterprise Car Service (at least that’s what it’s called in the screenplay) is closed. Judy doesn’t have a warrant and Nick is enjoying her suffering tremendously. After a spat, she tosses the carrot over the fence instead of handing it to him.
Turn: Because she has now seen a shifty low-life climbing the fence, she has probable cause, and doesn’t need a warrant. She can go in. (B Story: Nick is looking at her with more respect.)
Because of that …
They find the car and begin investigating. The car is a crime scene; claw marks everywhere, the missing otter’s wallet … and a cocktail glass etched with a "B”.
Turn: And it all adds up for Nick. This car belongs to Mr Big, a notorious crime boss. And his polar bear henchman are right outside. They grab Judy and Nick and yank them off screen.
Because of that …
Judy and Nick are wedged between the bear henchman, on their way to face Mr Big.
Turn: Nick sold him a very expensive rug that happened to be made from the fur of a skunk’s butt. Or in other words, Mr Big really doesn’t like Nick.
Because of that …
They wait fearfully for Mr Big to appear, and even when he’s revealed to be a tiny shrew, Nick still launches into obsequious and panicked mode. He tries talking his way out of it, but Mr Big really REALLY doesn’t like him. And when Judy shouts at him that she’s a cop and she has evidence on him –
Turn: “Ice ‘em.”
Because of that …
“No icing anyone at my wedding!” Fru Fru Shrew is not a happy camper. Father and daughter bicker about his promise of no murder on her wedding day, and the fact that “I have to, baby. Daddy has to.” Until –
Turn: “She’s the bunny who saved my life yesterday. From that giant doughnut!” Well, Judy is now in Mr Big’s good books. He’s going to pay her kindness forward. Nick is floored.
I’m gonna stop there.
SO! After going through that analysis of how the scenes are linked together, let’s abandon the “everything needs a story reason to be in there” rule, and see what happens.
After the scene where Judy and Nick reluctantly join forces, we could add a scene where Nick is trying to remember the name of the place, and where it is. Then we could have them asking around, searching the city, refusing to ask for directions, lots of banter. THEN we can finally get to The Mystic Springs Oasis.
And after they get the plate number, maybe Nick grabs the carrot pen and makes a run for it. Then we can have a chase scene, but he gets away. Then we can have Judy trying to run the plate on her own, before realizing she isn’t in the system, and failing. Then we can have a scene where she has to track down Nick again. Then a scene where she figures out how to blackmail him into it. THEN they finally get to the DMV.
And you know what would have happened then?
Zootopia would have made everyone bored.
All of these inserted scenes are unnecessary. Sure, they might add conflict, add complications to Judy’s quest, but they’re ultimately just filler. They’re just there for the sake of bulking out the story. This is why that tip I hear so often in writing circles always perplexes me: “Figure out the worst possible thing that can happen to your character, then do that.” If people went with this rule, they’d just keep throwing terrible things at the characters for no apparent reason, one after another, and the reader or audience would be expected to be entertained by it (but wouldn’t be). It would be like cartoons before Mickey Mouse came along and applied story to animation: before, cartoons were just gag after gag, slapstick situations mashed together like a funny video compilation. Except with books and movies, it would just be conflict-heavy situations strung together, taking an inordinate amount of time to make any actual progress.
Once you make sure everything has a purpose within the narrative, things get so much better. And I find, when I reread my work I don’t have to scream at myself to “love your book or else” if everything has a reason for being there. And instead of feeling like yelling at my story like an angry overworked crab, I feel a lot more like this gif.
A/N: ok so i love eggsy with my whole heart but this is my first time writing him so some feedback would be delightful just so i know i’m not writing him totally wrong. also @kurtwxgners@mvximoff@rax-writes enjoooyyyy
When you wake up, it takes you a second to fully register where you are. You blink sleepily awake and slowly take in your surroundings. You’re in someone else’s bed, a strong arm draped over your waist. The stiffness in your muscles reminds you of the previous night and heat floods your cheeks as you remember the ease and complete lack of shame with which you fell into bed with Eggsy. His chest is warm against your back and you let yourself luxuriate in the warmth and comfort of the bed for a few seconds longer before carefully sliding away from him and slipping out of bed. Retrieving your panties from the floor, you spend a second looking for the shirt you had been wearing the previous night before giving up the idea and snagging a long sleeved shirt that is most definitely not yours off the back of a chair. Pulling it on, you pad quietly out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.
As you wait for the coffee to brew, you lean back against the counter and think about any consequences last night might have for either of you. There are no rules against romantic involvement amongst employees of the Kingsmen, though you suspect it is frowned upon. The coffee machine is whirring quietly in the background as you think about the previous night. Heat rushes to your cheeks again as months of flirting replay in your mind. It’s not like last night wasn’t a long time coming. You don’t let yourself get caught up in wondering whether this will be it for the two of you, unwilling to let yourself ruin something good before you’ve even woken up properly. It could happen, but it might not, you remind yourself. Don’t get caught up over it. If it doesn’t happen, it wasn’t meant to be or whatever.
The coffee is finished and after a short search through the kitchen cabinets, you pull out two mugs, pausing for a second to remember how Eggsy takes his coffee before filling them both and taking a long sip from your own. It’s mid morning, and the light filtering through the curtains is warm and bright, though a faint chill hangs in the air. You take another sip from your mug, too preoccupied with your coffee and your own thoughts to register the faint sounds of of footsteps from the bedroom.
“Gotta say, ‘m glad to see you’re still here, love.” Distracted as you are, Eggsy’s voice makes you jump, almost dropping your mug as you turn to look at him. His voice is low and rough with sleep and his complete lack of a shirt makes it hard for you to come up with an answer quickly. He takes another step towards you, offering you a crooked smile. “I was worried you’d run off or something.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a hint of vulnerability to it as well; a subtle sense of relief that you still want to be around him. You can’t help but smile back as you hold the other mug of coffee out to him.
“No, I didn’t run off. Just needed help waking up,” you reply. “Hope you don’t mind I used your machine.”
Eggsy takes a gulp of coffee and lets out an appreciative hum. “Not at all. You probably know how to work the thing better than I do. I think it hates me,” he quips, and you chuckle. There’s a momentary lull and then his gaze drops to the shirt you’re wearing and he quirks an eyebrow as he runs his eyes slowly back up your torso, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Nice shirt, darlin’” he says and you feel yourself heating up in response.
“Sorry-I-it’s-I couldn’t find my shirt, and-” you start, trailing off as he sets his mug aside and steps forwards, reaching out to toy with the cuff of one of the sleeves. You can feel his body warmth radiating through the air and your breath catches in your chest.
“‘S alright, love. I don’t mind at all,” he says quietly, an almost disbelieving smile curving his lips. “If anything-it’s-well, I mean-I just-can’t believe you’re wearing my clothes, in my kitchen, drinking my coffee. It’s-” he breaks off, blushing furiously as if he’s just processed what he’s saying. “I just-it’s nice having you here. And my shirt looks good on you,” he mumbles, not meeting your eye. You set your own almost empty mug aside a little clumsily, and reach up to cradle his jaw in your hand, tilting his head up and forcing him to meet your gaze. He’s still a little pink and it’s so endearing to see a little more vulnerability to him than the easygoing confidence you usually see. Your thumb strokes gently over his cheekbone as you smile encouragingly at him, leaning forwards enough to close the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips softly to his. His arm tentatively loops around your waist as he kisses you back slowly, pulling you a little closer against him. His body is warm against yours and you can feel your own relief at knowing he wants you too mirrored in the way he relaxes into you.
“I’m glad you think the shirt looks good because I have very little intention of returning it,” you say, suppressing a giggle, and Eggsy chuckles, kissing you again.
and now, a series of quotes from my sociology professor this past term...
“pull out your phones and tell me your most recent emoji, lets make this into a social experiment”
“gotta love old dead white dudes who think they know everything about how the world works, right?”
“maybe i’m just really into cocaine, who knows”
“the estate system is like Westeros. anyone in here who doesn’t get that, watch Game of Thrones, I highly reccommend, but I must warn you there’s a lot of boobs. all tits all the time. gratuitous titties.”
“i know what ‘extra’ means to you guys, i’m old but i’m not dead yet”
“so long story short, get into rich people’s social circles so you can go play polo on their yacht and be pretentious about wine to get ahead in life”
“and by ‘we’ i mean white people; in the past czechoslovakians weren’t considered white, although lauren, you are clearly quite aryan”
“I just want to buy a fucking birthday card, why is everything so overly gendered?”
“can i see your penis? wait no, not like that, that was not a proposition”
(in reference to the types of gendered toys found in happy meals) “what are boy toys? aw, fuck, wait, no…”
“i dunno, is ‘cunt’ really a gender neutral word?”
“wow, you guys really know your white people”
“I’m not giving you a fuckin’ word bank, what is this, high school?”
“anyone have any questions? about the test? or anything? please?”
“i’m not gonna grade your tests i’m just going to throw them down the stairs and whoever lands closest to the top gets an A”
“it’s not spelled ‘kahoot’ with a k, what is this, that’s the kardashian way of spelling shit?”
“is this enjoyable to you? watching me fumble around like an idiot?”
“are me and my partner considered a family? we don’t have kids, we have a dog. we’ve been together 13 years but if we didn’t have a dog we wouldn’t be a family by your standards?”
(”i would assume that a 35 year old would know what they want in a relationship more than a 22 year old”) “yeah, you would fucking hope so!”
Helion was quick to embrace Nesta once she, Feyre, Rhys, and her mate winnowed to the location of the shower. A courtyard overlooking the Sidra, which sparkled in the midday light of late June.
“How I’ve missed you.” Helion admitted, pulling away and taking in the view of her in the dress he had Rhys deliver that morning. She was a lovely sight to behold. Her round belly being just one of the stunning features that made it impossible to not stare at her. A smile spread across Helion’s full lips as he lowered his head in a bow. “So many changes since we last saw one another. My dear, you have the glow of a new sun.“
Without skipping a beat, Nesta hugged her middle and responded in a feigned sweet voice, “And the density of a dying one.”
Cassian’s body shook with a silent laugh as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Tilting his face closer to hers, he muttered, “That’s my girl,” before dodging the foot she meant to stomp on his.
Helion seemed pleased to find the emissary still delivering whip-smart comebacks. Turning to Cassian, he looked him up and down, saying, “You’re looking quite well today, Commander.”
It was true. Cassian looked good. Nesta had braided his hair back and put it in a bun. The white shirt he wore was thin enough that every muscle, every tattoo clearly visible. His pants loose, but fitted in all the right places. His wings… They either glimmered from the sunlight or from being cared for in the shower he shared with Nesta just hours ago. “Dreamy,” was the exact word Nesta used to describe him. It was not, by any means, an exaggeration.
Feyre and Rhys shifted uncomfortably at the threesome and left to join Elain and others as they organized presents. Tall stacks of perfect white boxes; only to be offset by an emerald colored and poorly wrapped lump with an obscenely large bow tied around it.
Helion extended a hand and boldly asked, “May I?” He looked at Nesta, then to Cassian as he spoke. Genuine wonder etched on his immortal face.
Nodding and looking to Cassian whose face shone in pure pride, Nesta took Helion’s hand in her own and pressed it on her bump.
Seconds passed before anything happened…
So hard and sudden that even Nesta jumped, causing Helion to remove his hand and back a step.
“Well,“ Helion chuckled and cocked his head. “I should’ve known that any child would be quite the powerful one with the two of you as it’s parents.”
It’s all from her, Cassian thought, but didn’t say.
Instead, he smirked and drawled, “Powerful indeed.” Squeezing Nesta’s hand, he extended the other for Helion to shake, who took it smiling. “You haven’t considered, Helion, the possibility that my child just doesn’t like you.”
Nesta snorted and shook her head at the drama. Cassian wasn’t normally territorial. He would whoop any brute who disrespected her, sure. But Helion was never disrespectful to Nesta. However, Helion made him tick and knew exactly which buttons to press. A fact which he proved on multiple occasions.
A miraculous save as what would’ve blossomed into an even more awkward conversation, Mor and Amren appeared at Nesta’s side.
Looking at Nesta’s protruding abdomen as if it were a globe, Amren seemed equally enamored and concerned. “When do I get to meet the puppy?” She looked up at Nesta and Cassian, who only blinked in response.
“Soon.” Mor assured her tiny friend. “But not soon enough,” she added with a wink.
Nesta’s friendship with Mor had taken time to build. But they were now friends. They’d stood alongside one another through too much for it to be otherwise.
Studying the intimate group, Nesta’s eyes searched for the person she was missing. If she hadn’t worried about falling, she would’ve gone on her tiptoes. Would’ve looked behind every hedge and statue.
Cassian and Helion both frowned at the tears that rimmed Nesta’s eyes. Mor offered a cookie, which she did not take. Even Azriel and Elain tried their best to distract Nesta from her thoughts by suggesting she sit and discuss possible baby names.
Cassian knew the words she thought without her saying them aloud.
“If he could be here, he would be.” Rhys smiled kindly at Nesta and led her to stand in the shade of the willow tree with him.
Cassian followed them. Trailing behind by just a step. Grasping at the billowy fabric of her dress.
Since she conceived, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. Nor could she bear for it to be any different.
Under the tree and out of the light, Nesta leaned into Cassian. If it wasn’t so warm, he would’ve wrapped his wings around her.
Nesta wanted to smile. She was pregnant with the child of her mate and husband. And they were more blissfully in love than ever. Her best friend in the whole world was there, too. And he had organized the entire day for them, for her. To celebrate the life that would soon be brought into the world.
But there was still a part of her that wanted to cry because-
“Hey, you.” Putting hands on either side of her face, Cassian kissed her forehead. “I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. He would be here, you know. Especially after what-” Tugging a short golden curl, he shivered at the memory that would haunt the five involved for the rest of their days.
“You don’t have to stay,” Rhys interjected, not wanting to be reminded either. “Helion would understand. And I’m sure Mor and Amren would get over it once the baby is born.”
For a brief moment, Nesta considered the offer. Rhys’s words were true. It would be hard for them to be irked with a pregnant woman. Even harder to be irked at a woman holding an infant who was sure to have quite the personality and head full of hair.
“I’m staying.” Her word was final. She straightened her tattooed back, solidifying her resolution. “We will have a perfect day.”
Peering over to the gathering that resumed in their absence, Nesta knew she was right. They would be surrounded by the people they love.
Most of the people they love.
“Ready to waddle back and join the celebrations, sis?” Rhys flashed a grin at the reaction she never failed to give at the nickname.
“I’ve never once waddled in my life.”
Finding Cassian’s hand, she interlaced her fingers with his and led him to continue what was sure to be a perfect day. Despite the emerald piece of her heart that ached.
*The one time in his life Cassian doesn’t show up for a meeting with Feyre and Rhys on time*
Feyre: Nesta, would you be so kind as to wake Cassian and bring him here? Nesta: Ugh. Fine. Nesta:*stomps towards Cassian’s home*
*A few minutes later*
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!!!!!!” In the most shrill shriek imaginable is heard across Velaris, followed by a roar that shakes every window and knocks down wall-hangings.
Rhys:“My sister’s not some feral animal,” she says. Feyre: *tries to not look Rhys in the eyes* Rhys: Cauldron fry and boil me…
*Cassian shows up moments later, glowering, with Nesta thrown over his shoulder, laughing her ass off* Cassian: Which one of you sent the hell-cat? Feyre:*through the bond* Hold the line, Rhys. We stand together, remember? HOLD THE FUCKING LINE. Nesta:*continues cackling, until Cassian not so gently spanks her* *Feyre and Rhys’s eyes widen as they try to maintain composure* Rhys:*through the bond* I think I’d rather face the Weaver right now. Feyre: Can you repeat the question? Cassian:*finally and abruptly drops Nesta, who yelps in surprise* Rhys: I’m sure whoever it was had no intention of wronging you so grossly. Cassian: Rhys: Something you might consider before shredding their favorite objects and cursing their future generations. Cassian: Rhys: Food for thought. Cassian: Feyre: But hey, you’re here now! Everyone’s alive and well, and that’s so nice. Were alive and we’re like a big family that would never dream of physically or psychologically messing with each other. Cassian: Feyre: Isn’t that nice? Cassian: Rhys: That’s so nice.
*Two days later*
*At breakfast* Cassian:*finishes his food and leaves the table* Rhys: Cassian has been too calm, and I’m going crazy watching over my shoulder at every turn. Feyre: I hate waiting like this.
*A roar rips through the quiet morning, making birds flee and children run into their homes* *Followed by a blood-curdling scream and an unmistakable sound of glass shattering*
Cassian:*strolls back to the dining room, with a smug look on his face* For the record, it wasn’t me who threw the decanter. Rhys: Got it out of your system, then? Cassian: YUP. Rhys: Let’s not make this a thing, okay? Cassian:*grins wickedly* I wouldn’t dream of it.
What's your headcanon on if the Inquisitor (romanced Lavellan) just up and left the Inquisition one night with no intent to return, for Solas?
So this wasn’t technically for @dadrunkwriting buuuuttt……This prompt hurt my feelings so much I’ve been thinking about it non-stop since I got it, so I’ll answer it tonight.
Ellana scowled back, bottom lip sticking out ever so slightly, her eyes narrowed at him in an unmistakable challenge.
“Absolutely not,” he said, barely containing the fury and glee that warred within him. “I will not have you involved in this. I will not have you risk your life for a cause that is not yours–”
“It is my cause,” she interrupted, voice ragged with her ferocity. “And I risk my life either way. I won’t have you throwing your life away as though there would be no one left behind to mourn you!”
He swallowed around the growing lump in his throat. “This burden–”
“Is not something you need to bear alone,” insisted Ellana. “Not anymore.” She came forward and took his hands in hers, small and warm and trembling like a wounded bird. “Solas, I don’t know what you meant for this to be…you and I. But I can’t let you suffer this alone. I love you, and I’m with you. Whatever the outcome, all I want in this whole world is to be by your side.”
Solas ran a thumb across her cheek, cradling her face in one large hand. “I…I never should have given in to my feelings for you…” he whispered. The hurt in her eyes was brushed away with the light touch of his lips to hers. “This was precisely why I held back for so long…and yet I find myself wishing I had given in so much sooner…” He moved to slip his arms around her waist, drawing her close and pressing their lips together again.
“Vhenan…” she whispered against the feathery-soft kiss. “Ar lath ma uthaan…”
A pained smile spread his lips as Solas blinked away tears that threatened to fall. “I do not deserve such devotion from you, vhenan.”
“Everyone deserves to be loved. Even the Dread Wolf.” Ellana brushed his tears away with gentle fingers before linking her hands behind his neck and pulling him down for another long kiss. “I’ll be by your side until the end, ma lath. Whenever or whyever that may be.”
Swearing, food mentioned, violence mentioned, Eggsy is a little bit beaten up, a little bit of fighting, mention of pain pills
deserve better.” & “Just sit down and let me take care of you.”
comes home from a rough mission feeling like he is not good enough for his
A/N’s: Wow! So,
this is the first reader insert fic that I have ever written. It also happens
to be the first thing I’ve ever written that I’ve let anybody read, so please
go easy on me. I’d love some constructive criticism, if anyone has any ideas on
how I could make my writing any better. Thanks! I hope you all enjoy.
hesitated to even go home that night. Part of him wanted to find somewhere else
to stay for the night, his mum’s or Roxy’s. His last mission had been rough. He
was beaten, bruised, and bloody. This wouldn’t be the first time he had come
home to her like this. At this point he knew that she was probably used to it,
that she maybe even expected it most nights and he hated that. He hated making
her upset or fearful for him. He hated that when he was on a mission, she was
stuck home, alone and worrying about his safety. But more than anything, he
hated the fact that he was what caused her distress.
until he reached their apartment building that he realized where his post
mission debrief walk had taken him. While completely lost in thought he had
made his way back to her. Right back to his incredible Y/N. Right back to the
woman he was so helplessly in love with. Even when he was internally debating
coming home or not he still found his way back to the girl he considered to be
his entire world. ‘I’m never gonna be
able to stay away from her.’ He shook his head at this thought. Eggsy knew that he couldn’t keep doing this to
her. He didn’t want to keep doing
this to her.
The brunette continues to stand outside of
their building for a few more minutes, just allowing himself a chance to sort
out his thoughts. He doesn’t know how long he ended up standing out there. It was
not until a man staring down at his cell phone almost knocked him over that he
finally decided that it was time to face the music. Taking one last deep breath
he walks into the small building, heading straight for the elevator and hitting
the button for his floor.
walks down the hallway to their apartment, he sends a small smile to the single
mother who lives down the hall and offers to help her bring her groceries
inside but she declines with a kind smile and a simple ‘No thanks’. Eggsy
stares down at the floor as he continues to walk, slightly disappointed that
his plan to procrastinate the conversation he was about to have had failed. He genuinely didn’t think that his heart could
beat any faster than it already was but he is quickly proven wrong once he
makes it to the end of the hall and finds himself standing in front of their
thing he notices once he steps inside is the sweet smell of his favorite
chocolate chip cookies. The familiar scent is almost able to bring a smile to
his somber looking face. Y/N always made the delicious treats when she had some
spare time before he came home. She had once told him that it was an old family
recipe and that her mother always made them for her when she was having a rough
day as a kid. A sigh escapes his lips as he hears her footsteps coming down the
hall to their bedroom. He is barely able
to set down his bag before she is pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re home! I
missed you while you were gone babe!” She says with such relief in her voice
that it almost breaks his heart.
beautiful. I missed you too.” He replies as he slowly pulls back from her hug
to look down at his sweet girlfriend. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun with
a few pieces hanging loose around her face and at the back of her neck and she
is already in pajamas. A pair of fluffy polka-dot socks are on her feet. She
looks adorable (like always). She gives him a warm smile, but it starts to fade
when she notices the gloomy look on his face.
nickname still manages to make him smile. An old reminder of simpler times when
they were first introduced and she had – much like many other people he had met
– misheard his name. He places a gentle kiss on her forehead before walking
into the living room and sitting on their couch. He motions for her to come sit
down next to him and takes one more deep breath before he finally begins to say
what has been stuck in his mind since his mission ended.
making you worry about me.” He’s barely started and the look on her face is
already enough to make him want to shut up. The e/c eyed girl sitting next to
him looks confused and worried, which makes what he is trying to do so much
harder because this, this is exactly
what he is trying to stop from happening again. The entire point of what he is
saying, what he is doing was to stop himself from making her nervous anymore.
He closes his eyes for a second and reminds himself of what has been going
through his mind for hours, of all the times he came home and she had bags
under her eyes from the lack of sleep. Or of the texts he would get from her,
late at night when he was away on a mission. The ones that said things like ‘I
hope you’re getting some sleep baby, but I’m still up and I just wanted to check
in. Love you.’ or ‘I know you can’t tell me about what’s going on with the
mission, but please tell me that you’re doing ok at least.’.
reopens his eyes, but this time instead of looking at her, into her kind eyes,
he looks away, towards the coffee table where he sees the plate of her freshly
baked cookies and his body completely deflates. His normally cocky demeanor has been replaced
with one of hesitance and resignation. His shoulders are slumped and his jaw is
clenched. “You shouldn’t have to spend so much time wondering if I’m gonna come
home or not. You shouldn’t be stuck awake all night because you’re thinking
about what kind of danger I might be in on my missions.” He glances at the
floor next to the couch as he says this and notices JB sitting there with his
head tilted to the side, just staring at him, as if he too was wondering what the
fuck Eggsy was doing, “I mean fuck sweetheart, you are so incredible, way
too good for me. You deserve somebody who can provide you with some sense of
stability. Someone who you can count on to come home to you every night. I see
how exhausted you are when I get home from a mission and just when you start to
get rested again, I get called away. I can’t keep doing this to you.”
around when he had said that she was too good for him the h/c haired girl had
started slowly shaking her head, looking at him in what he could only describe
as pure horror. Before he could continue talking she cut him off, “Eggsy stop!
I don’t care about any of that stuff! I know you can’t tell me much about your
missions, but I can tell enough to know that what you do is incredibly
important. You go out there and you put yourself in danger to protect other
people. I will never ever be angry at you for that, for how brave that makes
you baby. I would choose you over some normal picket fence life any day. It’s
not even a question.”
first time in minutes Eggsy looks up at her, into her e/c eyes. He is no longer
able to continue to try to stay strong and Y/N can see the tears in his green
eyes. Letting out a deep breath he mumbles, barely loud enough to hear, “You
the normally collected girl bolts out of her seat next to him and throws her
hands in the air before crying out, “You know what! Maybe I do, but even if
that is somehow true I don’t want better! I want you!” She takes a deep breath
and lowers herself to a kneeling position in front of him and gently places her
hands on his knees, “I don’t care what kind of baggage comes along with you. I
will gladly put up with any of it if it means that I still get to be with you
and cuddle with you and love you! I
love you Eggsy and I can’t stand the idea of not being your girl anymore. So
please, if you genuinely believe that I would in any way be better off without
you then do whatever the hell you have to get that thought out of your head!”
on the couch stares down at her and lets out a sob before collapsing forward onto
the floor next to her. He clumsily pulls her towards him and hides his face
into the curve of her shoulder and she carefully maneuvers herself into his lap
and wraps her arms around him and for the first time since he got home she is
able to truly take him in. She notices the bruises running along his cheek
bones and the one surrounding his left eye. She can only imagine the bruises
that lay under his suit which is now getting wrinkled by their position. After
a moment, she carefully pulls away from him and rubs her thumb over his split
please, you’re hurt. Just sit down and let me take care of you.”
while staring into her eyes and allows then both to stand up. He sits down on
the couch while she rubs her hand carefully over his face one more time before
she walks into the kitchen and grabs a few ice packs as well as some pain meds
and water. Once he has taken the pills she sends him to get changed into some
comfier clothing and grabs them both a glass of milk before sitting down on the
couch and turning on the tv. She puts on some random sitcom while she waits for
him to come back and finally allows herself to process everything that has just
walks back into the room she is just staring at the coffee table, completely
lost in her own thoughts and he has to call out her name to get the girl to look up
at him. He had changed into an old sweater and some sweatpants. When she does
finally look up at him, he looks concerned and she gives him a small smile to
let him know that she is ok before moving over slightly so that he can sit down
next to her. Once he is comfortable on the couch beside her, she hands him the
ice packs and the milk before reaching forward and grabbing the plate of
cookies. They each grab a few and he places his arm on the couch behind her
head, allowing the girl to rest against his side. He smiles after he takes his
first bite of cookie and kisses her on the forehead, quietly telling her how
much he loves her and her cookies.
glad,” she says before joking, “I make them with love.”
chuckles. They spend the next few hours on the couch and they eventually end up
laying down, him behind her, stomach and chest pressed up against her back. As
the night goes on and they both begin to get sleepier and sleepier he begins to
rub his hand up and down her arm. Just as she begins to drift off she turns her
head to look at him and says, quietly, “You are right about me being terrified
to lose you during a mission, but what scares me even more is the idea that you
might leave me voluntarily.”
presses a kiss to her nose and gently tells her, “Don’t worry love. I ain’t
going anywhere. I promise.”
@kurtwxgners Thanks for letting me tag you and I hope that you like it!
29: Did you steal someone's cat? NESSIAN PLEASE!!! <3
Looking at Cassian, all muscles and wild ferocity and unruly hair, the last occupation you’d assign him was a nurse. Add the fact that he’d barely healed from having his wings torn to ribbons, and it seemed even less appropriate for him to care for others. Nesta had snarkly informed him of such several times.
No matter how many times she chastised him, however, he seemed hellbent on ignoring her. Though the cauldron had only made her physically stronger, he insisted that she was in need of monitoring. “You’ve been through hell, Nes,” he’d say softly, when she woke up drenched in sweat, sure she could still feel water flooding her lungs. “You deserve some decent rest.”
Resting was not easy. In a new, strange place that screamed danger, to her lingering human senses, Nesta would lie awake for hours at night, unable to switch off her brain. Nightmares cut short whatever time she could get sleeping. When she spent the daylight hours training, sheer exhaustion was the only thing that could hold her under.
Though she was loath to admit it, Cassian’s ‘nursing’ did help. He’d stand guard outside her doors at night, fetch her warm drinks before bed, and always be there for her when she woke up screaming for them to leave Elain alone. Sure, she’d cuss and curse and him and push him away, but heavens was she grateful for the grounding sensation of her touch when she awoke certain she was drowning. She supposed if anyone had to see her like that, at least it was only him. Big, dumb, lumbering Cassian. Stupid, idiotic Cas. Moron. Oversized beast.
But so, so warm. She came to look forward to the way he stroked her hair with gentle fondness before going to stand guard for the night. She’d dread the nightmares that little bit less knowing that if she lost her grip upon reality, he’d come pull her back, putting those ridiculously muscular arms to use for something. Sometimes he’d even lie down next to her for an hour or so, listening wordlessly as she talked through the terrible visions. Her bedsheets began to smell like him.
Like she’d always known, however, Cassian wasn’t a nurse. Once his wings were fully healed, he started going on missions again. They could last hours or days or even weeks, and he could be called away by Rhys at any time the High Lord saw fit. Nesta began to spend more and more nights alone. The dark circles returned beneath her eyes. She did not complain.
Perhaps he didn’t notice. Perhaps he’d forgotten about her now that he had his soldier life back, but either way she wasn’t going to say a word about it, too stubborn, too full of pride. Like she, Nesta Archeron, was going to whine because she didn’t have someone to tuck her in at night.
One such sleepless night, she was sat up reading in bed when all of a sudden, the door burst open. “Falcon, meet Nesta,” a gruff, slightly breathless male voice announced. Her stomach tightening, Nesta peered over the top of her book. The wild, beardy face before her was partially obscured by a big orange ball of… something. Something furry.
“Cassian,” she said, ever so calmly, ever so slowly, ”what is that?”
“Oh please, I know humans have these in their realm.” Cas strode over, perching on the side of her bed. “It’s a cat, sweetheart. Nesta, meet Falcon.” He released the ginger tom cat onto her bedsheets, littering them in orange hair that she just knew would never come off. “I found him out on the Rainbow. Isn’t he a pretty boy? Who’s a pretty boy?” He cooed, tucking the cat under the chin.
“Cas…” Nesta said, eyeing the purring fur ball as it sniffed at her fingers. “Did you steal someone’s cat?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cas picked Falcon up and set him down in Nesta’s lap, where he proceeded to purr happily. “He’s a stray I’ve seen picking round cafes for weeks now. I thought he might appreciate another stray for company.”
She went to protest that she most certainly was not a stray, but the effort drained out of her. Maybe she was, stuck here in a foreign land waiting for her sister and her husband to decide how they should proceed. Silent, she stroked Falcon, who admittedly was very warm, and very soft. Whatever arguments she was going to make were forgotten the moment Falcon padded up and rubbed his cheeks against her jaw, vibrating with the force of his purring.
“He’ll be full of lice,” she said, scratching his ears. “Not to mention he stinks. I’ll have to give him a bath before letting him near any of my clothes.”
“I thought he could sleep here, next to you,” Cas said, watching the pair of them get acquainted. “For when I’m not here to look after you.”
Nesta swallowed. “I don’t need you here to look after me.”
“I know,” Cas murmured, leaning in to rub his nose against the top of Falcon’s head. In doing so, he brought his face unnervingly close to Nesta’s, so close she could smell his warm scent, the same comforting scent that had been fading from her bedsheets. “But I miss being able to be here for you. Every time I go out on missions, I wonder if you’re okay. So I was wondering if you’d allow Falcon here to be here in my place. Maybe it will stop me missing you so much, knowing you’ve heartlessly replaced me with this ladies man here.”
In spite of herself, Nesta smiled. She looked up at Cas, so close, so warm. Leaning in, she kissed Falcon softly on the forehead. Ever so cautiously, she tipped her face up, and did the same for Cas, brushing the sensitive skin of her neck against the scruff of his unshaven jaw, rough and oddly exhilarating. “Thank you,” she said, pulling her lips back from his brow to look at him. “For having such a weak spot for strays.”
On numb legs, he walks and walks through blood and destruction and she’s there.
Cassian stops moving only when he’s in front of her, and she’s, she’s-
Nesta doesn’t move, her eyes are half open but the color in them -that blue, the smoke under glass, the sky- is fading and her fighting leathers are glistening as if they are wet with something thick and warm and red and-
He doesn’t fight, doesn’t try to stay upright when his knees give up.
His hands move without Cassian realizing it, move toward Nesta as they always did, as they always will.
He cradles her in his arms and there’s no sharp intake of breath, no pounding of her heart, there’s just- nothing, nothing but the fading warmth of her body, the way in which her arms fall to the ground, lifeless, and the thud of it makes him realize for a moment that there’s no clash of swords, no battle cry that he can hear.
He feels nothing, he hears nothing, he is-
His lungs are being crushed by the weight of a string that’s been cut, the air he is breathing feels like an unwanted guest and it only make him realize how her scent is changing and it makes him sick, makes him want to scream and roar and rage.
But he chuckles, a broken sound, a twisted parody of what it used to be.
“I’m coming, sweetheart,” he says to her, using the little endearing name he had -has, has, has- for her, but it’s just a broken sob “I know you don’t like to be kept waiting.”
He is aware of the shattering sound his siphons make, he knows that his power is building and building and building, and he knows what it means.
He moves her hair out of her face with the tip of his fingers, cups her cheek; his fingers linger and his eyes are on her, always on her as his hand moves to unhook the last remaining siphon, the one near her head, on his chest.
Cassian kisses Nesta’s forehead, shatters the siphon between his fingers, lets it all out.
It’s blast of red and in those last moment, he thinks she would have loved it.
Nothing is left of them, of the battlefield, of everything.
When Starfall comes, the Night Court is in mourning.
There’s a little group on a balcony, a Lord and his Lady, a Shadow and his Light, an Ancient creature who never felt so tiny.
The stars are falling, one by one.
Two stars are the only exception.
Two stars that burn red and bright, two stars that are so near each other they seem one, stubbornly keeping their place in the sky.
They all look up, and a smile graces the lips of the Lord and his family, all looking up to watch those two stars who are looking down on them, their light like protection, their twinkle a little song, a melody, three words once loved and still kept
Throughout training, Cassian had been uncharacteristically quiet.
His brothers knew the reason, whatever it was, must be weighing him down.
Cassian had always been better with dealing with his emotions physically, rather than verbally.
Today, they wouldn’t allow him that option.
“So,” Rhys began, knowing exactly what would make Cassian tick, “Are you going to tell us what’s going on, or are Az and I going to have to beat it out of you?”
“I say we beat first ask questions later,” Azriel joked and gave a wicked smirk. Okay…maybe he wasn’t entirely kidding.
Rhys twirled the iron training staff in his hands and began stalking toward Cassian, “You are the expert interrogator, Azriel.”
Knowing his brothers would very likely attempt to beat his suspicions and thoughts out of him, he decided to give in instead.
“I think Nesta…could be pregnant.” Cassian admitted, his voice barely above a whisper but louder than any words he had ever said before.
The silence and tension was palpable.
For a long moment, no one even moved.
“She doesn’t smell any different.” Rhys observed quietly.
“No. She doesn’t smell different, she doesn’t look different. She tastes the same, acts the same…” Cassian glared at the ground.
Rhys crossed his arms, looking equally pensive and confused. “Why do you think she’s pregnant?”
Cassian didn’t know how to describe the feeling, the uncertainty…It was cloudy in his sea of confusion, but he could swear he was right. “I have this feeling. In my gut, in my bones. When I’m with her…Especially when I’m not with her.” He ran a hand through his hair and continued, “How..? What-?”
“Did you take…precautions?” Azriel tentatively asked, not meaning any insult.
“Precautions? What, like closing the door?” Even in this serious situation, Cassian wouldn’t miss an opportunity to sass his brother.
Rhys threw his head back and laughed. He knew what it was like to be with an Archeron woman.
Azriel, however, blanched.
“Yes to the first,” Cassian drawled. “And no to the second,” he added with a wink and ducked away from Azriel’s attempt to smack his head.
All at once, he felt it.
The difference was as stark as night and day. It felt like looking directly into the sun.
A white hot brand down the bond, his confusion- which he realized had not entirely been his own- was replaced with clarity.
Pure, blinding clarity.
Cassian dropped to his knees and roared so loud that the snow on the mountains began tumbling down. Nesta, Nesta, Nesta
Rhys and Azriel were immediately at his side, ready to shield him or fight by his side at this unseen force that made this great man stumble.
Without looking up, Cassian sobbed. He barely found the words and choked, “Mine.” His shoulders shook and wings were fully unfurled and quaking.
A quiet understanding swept between Rhys and Azriel, and they lifted their brother back to his feet.
Putting his hands on his shoulders, Rhys looked Cassian squarely in the eyes. “Go,” he commanded.
Instantaneously, Cassian shook his brother’s hands free, and shot towards the sky.
Without looking back, he flew as fast as his wings would carry him to his new future. “Nesta, Nesta, Nesta,” he said her name aloud, repeating it like a holy mantra. I’m coming.
Not to be bothered trying to open their door with his muddied hands, he crashed it open.
He couldn’t stop staring at her. Nor she at him. “She’s so beautiful,” he thought. She was already glowing.
He had to touch her, had to feel for himself the truth of what was growing in her body.
Barely grazing his fingertips on her stomach, he could feel it.
He was fire, Nesta was ice…
This was lightning.
Just conceived weeks ago, but the power was already there… “Tell me…” His heartbeat was audible as it was pounding as loud as any war drum.
She knew his question, knew he had known the answer before seeing for himself and touching it. He felt the truth, now he needed to hear it.
With their love, they had created something special.