reading tsc and jean’s interactions with neil being full of just wishing neil had stayed with him and been his forever partner makes me want to cry. also makes me want to read raven!neil fics for the first time? any suggestions would be much appreciated
so i have and idea for all the ao3 writers. Can u pls write a hanahaki disease au for kevjean where jean leaves to california hoping for the disease to pass and then he meets Jeremy that helps with with it and he actually manages to cure it and fall in love with jer (and since i love angst, make Jer afraid of getting it too bc he's falling for Jean too fast)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
snippet:
“Okay,” Jeremy said, while Jean is still reeling. “We’re doing this. I’m sorry, but we’re doing this. We aren’t leaving this room until you tell me what’s bothering you—do not open your mouth to lie to me, Jean.”
Jean shut his mouth and choked down the lie that nothing is bothering him. He’s never heard Jeremy so upset. He both hates and is not surprised that it’s directed towards him.
“You know I’m a very patient person, baby, but I’m not doing this anymore. You can’t do this anymore. You’re not okay, Jean,” Jeremy said. “You won’t talk to anyone, you’re shutting everybody out, and I’m not letting you do that. You’re trying to disappear and I’m not letting that happen.”
“Maybe that is what’s best.”
Jean hadn’t meant to say it, but now the words are out. Jeremy goes deathly still. Jean can hear the electricity in the walls.
“What does that mean?”
Jean sighs. He would have done almost anything to take that look off of Jeremy’s face. All except tell him the truth, which Jeremy will never understand is for his best interest. “I do not mean it like that.”
“How do you mean it?”
Jean broke like feeble windows in a hurricane.
“What do you want me to say?” Jean asked. “You are not going to like it. You are not going to want me after. You are going to wish you never allowed me to transfer. You—”
“—I am almost entirely certain that won’t happen—”
“—do not know the things I think, so do not act like you would take me for everything I am. Your vision is too clear for you to be so blind.”
“I’m seeing things pretty clearly,” Jeremy said. “We've started having sex and now you’re avoiding me. Either I did something to make you uncomfortable, or you’re having some internal struggle that you’re trying not to feel.”
Today's progress on the next Immortal Instruments story:
“There are exactly five thousand active Institutes in the Mundane world,” Izzy says with the tone of someone quoting a book or, since apparently there’s an Academy for Shadowhunters, maybe a lecture. “Totaling a population of just above fourteen and a half millions of Nephilim. The oldest of them is the Institute of Geneva, established in 1544, and the most recent is the New York Institute, reclaimed by Reese and Rob Ligthwood in October of 1999 after a century and a half of inactivity. Cue: the teacher looking like they smelled shit on their shoes and the rest of the class staring at me.”
Izzy’s tone is light, even when she gets to the last part of her speech, but Clary can’t help but wonder how much of it is a facade. It would be one thing if the Lightwoods had chosen to come here, but according to their children, the entire family was meant to die here. What was it like, growing up in the middle of people who were all too aware that your existence went directly against the wishes of your government? Somehow, it doesn’t seem like a few stares were the end of it. Clary wants to say something nice, maybe words of sympathy, but Izzy barrels over the silence:
“It’s not supposed to be one family. The smallest Institute after ours is in Yukon, and they’ve got about a hundred and fifty people stationed there. They house four different families in total, children and the elderly included.”
“Well,” Clary can’t help but breathe, “you sure know your stats.”
“Yeah, there’s a project from the Beijing and Moscow Institute to digitalise and mutualize our informations to they’re accessible to every other Institute at once, and I’m part of the team that sorts through what gets complied and making it searchable… basically I do a lot of metadata organization, tagging books, all that stuff. It’s a bit gruelling, but it’s already helped solving some tough cases. Part of the reason Mama retired from helming our Institute this year is so she can help with the project full time—that’s why she and Baba are in Istanbul with our brother right now. Mama’s attending committee meetings to decide how they’re going to handle the database—I lost you.”
There’s not really any room to deny it, so Clary doesn’t even try.
Tessa&Kit Fic - You were an angel in the shape of my mom
Written for @fandombingo Martian Bingo prompt: “The longer we wait, the worse it’s going to get.”
Fandom: The Shadowhunters Chronicles.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences.
Summary: In the day of Rosemary’s death anniversary, Tessa and Kit talk about loss, guilt and survival.
“I must be the worst son in the world,” he whispered. “Rosemary’s lucky she never had to deal with me.”
Tessa winced as if she had been slapped. The down tilt of her lips was such an unnatural sight he had to double check before he truly believed her distaste was being directed at him.
“Don’t you ever say that again.” Tessa told him.
Read on AO3.
The sun had already begun to set when Kit heard Tessa stepping into the porch of their backyard.
He spent most of the afternoon tucked into the recliner Jem bought as a gift for Tessa, lost in thought.
He had good memories of countless afternoons spent chasing Mina around the green expanse of their garden as Tessa settled in to watch them, a book in hand.
He also found it was as good a place as any for sulking.
His mom settled into the less comfortable wood chair by his side and turned her body to face him. He very deliberately avoided her gaze.
She seemed determined not to push him, if her quietness and smooth movements were any indicators. It reminded him of his first weeks living there.
Tessa and Jem had been painstakingly careful around him, mindful of their words and postures, easygoing and kind, trying their hardest not to scare him away. It made Kit feel like a ticking bomb about to go off half the time. The other half, it made him feel oddly wanted.
Kit wished she would just tell him what to do, only this once. He was good at following a parent’s orders, most of the time. He tended to Johnny Rook’s every whim for years, after all.
But Tessa wouldn’t. She always had good advice to offer and time to hear him out, should he ask for it, but no orders to be followed blindly ever came out of her lips.
If only Kit didn’t hate the idea of asking for help so badly, he would appreciate her patience some more.
“I’m fine,” he said, breaking the silence once it became clear Tessa wouldn’t.
“That’s good to hear,” she replied, unconvinced.
He tapped his feet against the floor impatiently. “It‘s just a bad day. Nothing to worry about.”
Tessa hummed noncommittally and nodded. “I see.”
Kit huffed an annoyed breath and immediately regretted it when his mom’s eyebrows knitted together in a pained expression.
He hated to be the one causing her so much distress. Still, the attentive way her eyes tracked his every movement made his skin crawl.
It reminded him of nights spent sneaking his way through the Shadow Market, his father’s eyes seemingly everywhere and nowhere all at once, watching and waiting for his next mistake.
Tessa wasn’t looking for a reason to punish him, but he feared that his skin would always crawl at the feeling of being watched closely, regardless of whose eyes were laid on him.
“Do you need some time alone? I can leave,” she offered, even though the idea clearly displeased her.
Why couldn’t he stop screwing everything up?
He already had two dead parents and a whole lineage of tragedy to account for. Did he really need to make life harder for Tessa, too?
“No, that’s not it,” he hurried to say, pulling his legs up to tuck his knees under his chin.
Tessa went very still, intelligent gray eyes narrowed. Her silence spelled out the questions she wouldn’t ask out loud.
“What’s it, then?” He could almost make out in the curious glint of her eyes.
“Tell me,” The tense line of her jaw nearly let out.
“Let me help,” Her hands said as they drew patterns over her sweater.
“I think I liked it better when I didn’t know anything about Rosemary,” he muttered finally, rocking the chair back and forth.
Tessa hummed. If the statement surprised her, she didn’t show it at all.
“Now that I do know some things, as small as they are, it hurts more. I thought it would make everything better if I knew what she was like or why she left.”
Kit played with a loose strand of fabric on his shorts, pulling on it with more force than needed as he spoke.
“It doesn’t really help,” he confessed. “Now I know the exact day she died—and what for? So I can have one day every year for the rest of my life to feel miserable?”
He gestured broadly to himself, still avoiding his mom’s sharp gaze.
When it became clear he had nothing else to say, Tessa gently reached for his hand, stilling his attack on the worn-out fabric of his clothes. “I can understand why days like today can weigh you down. I’m afraid there’s not much to be done about that.”
Kit tensed immediately, realizing how pathetic it was for him to whine about Rosemary’s death anniversary in front of Tessa, of all people.
She had experienced more grief than almost anyone else he knew, except for Jem. They had lost everything but each other. The weight of so much loss became so heavy some days that Kit could almost touch it in the air of their home, tucked away in the corners of the house and hidden behind the echoing sound of Mina’s giggles.
Tessa sensed his regret and rushed to reassure him, “I’m not saying this because I want us to compare our losses. It’s a pointless game to play, believe me.”
She laid a hand on his knee, stopping his shaking leg. Kit hadn’t even realized it was moving that much.
“What I can tell you is that we honor those we lost by living.”
It was a beautiful sentiment, he could admit, but it felt too out of reach for himself.
“I didn’t lose her,” he mumbled in response. Tessa startled, titling her head in clear confusion. “I never had her in the first place.”
Tessa said nothing, just waited as he worked through the lump in his throat.
“Sometimes I feel so angry at her for leaving me behind,” he confessed. “For dying before I had a chance to really know her.”
He laughed a hollowed sound, devoid of any joy. Tessa’s eyebrows scrunched together in a painful twist of her serene expression.
“Isn’t that ridiculous?” He huffed. “Rosemary gave everything up to protect me. She died for me, and I’m still angry because… Because I didn’t have anyone to draw a Mother’s Day card for? Because she didn’t tuck me into bed and read me a story every night?”
To his horror, his breathing grew heavier alongside the tears dropping from his cheeks. He forcefully rubbed at his face to dry them.
“I must be the worst son in the world,” he whispered. “Rosemary’s lucky she never had to deal with me.”
Tessa winced as if she had been slapped. The downtilt of her lips was such an unnatural sight he had to take a double check before he truly believed her distaste was being directed at him.
“Don’t you ever say that again.” Tessa told him.
She had never spoken to him like that before—so hurt and fierce, like someone had reached inside her chest and broken her heart in two.
“Kit,” she whispered, propping his face up with two of her fingers against his chin. “Don’t you ever repeat that, do you understand? Never again.”
He nodded, still taken aback by her reaction. Then, Tessa softly ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him gently.
“It’s not stupid to feel angry at our parents for the choices they made that impacted our lives,” Tessa said, her own eyes watery. “I didn’t have a chance to know Rosemary, but I’m sure she wouldn’t blame you for what you feel now or for how you felt growing up.”
Had anyone ever held him the way Tessa did now? Had any other person in the world looked at him with so much sorrow in their eyes and managed not to make him squirm under their gaze?
“Being left behind leaves a scar. It doesn’t matter what the reasons were. As noble as they may be, they still hurt. It doesn’t make you a bad son to still carry this hurt with you. You must feel it. In fact, the longer you wait to feel it, the worse it gets.”
He shook his head in denial, the feel of Tessa’s hand against his nape like hot iron for a moment as Kit felt the familiar grief taking over.
“I was just a baby when she left. I can’t miss someone I didn’t know,” he countered.
Tessa smiled sadly, larger and older than life. “Oh, dear, I wish that was true.”
Kit suddenly felt very small and young, as Tessa’s voice became sadder and more ominous.
“Our hearts and bodies carry pain far past what our minds can see. All it takes is one moment for it to be brought forward. Yes, you were too young to remember what it was like to have Rosemary as a mother. It doesn’t change the fact you lost her. It doesn’t mean you can’t mourn what could have been.”
Kit wasn’t sure he believed in that completely. His father had taught him that it was stupid to dwell on the past, especially if it involved his mother.
Tessa was a far smarter and kinder person than Johnny, but Kit had learned that such deeply ingrained lessons were hard to unlearn.
“Any mother would be lucky to have you as a son, Kit,” Tessa said, holding his face delicately, her thumb caressing the slope of his cheek. “I know I am.”
Kit looked at his mom—really, properly looked at her. Her face, preserved by time. Her gray eyes, kinder than he deserved them to be. Her smile, small and sincere and heavy with loss.
He loved her so much more than his heart could bear. He loved her and trusted her and couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t love him too.
Kit wasn’t used to believing he had earned his place in anyone’s life, but Tessa made it feel so easy—like he didn’t need to earn anything in the first place.
“Do you mean that?” He asked, sounding like a scared boy searching for dry land in a revolting sea.
And Tessa threw him a lifeline as easily as she had undone each of his defenses. “I do. Of course I do.”
She laid a kiss on his temple. His eyes closed, and he instinctively leaned into the touch.
Kit felt far younger than he truly was as Tessa held him and pressed kisses to his forehead. He was certain, then, that the steadfastness of her love would never cease to amaze him.
When Tessa pulled back to look into his eyes again, she ruffled his hair before saying, “I’ll never try to replace her, Kit. She’s your mother too and will always be. You don’t need to be scared of talking about her.”
He nodded. His throat felt too tight for him to try and say anything at all.
“But since the day I laid my eyes on you, I’ve loved you. I knew that feeling, deep in my gut. I had felt it three times before, and I felt it again when I met you.”
His treacherous, already swollen, eyes watered once more against his will. Tessa’s gray ones mirrored his, if kinder and wiser.
“My sweet, brave boy,” she whispered, pulling him to her chest again. “I love you. So much more than you know.”
Kit laced his arms around her, slotting his face in the crook of Tessa’s neck.
kjshdfkhsdf this is me dipping my toe into writing for this fandom why do i feel so anxious scream anyway here we go, now it's out there
The first time Jean recognised jealousy it felt like bile in his throat.
It looked like green eyes lit up by the blue-white glow of a computer screen and maybe if he looked closely enough would reflect back the sun-tanned boy California boy that represented everything neither of them could ever be.
The sting was realising Kevin would always long for that, one way or another. The freedom and the joy—the yang to Jean's yin.
Jealousy was a pointless emotion. It had no place in the Nest and no room to move in a flock of ravens. It grasped at the nothingness between him and Kevin, at the empty promises of darkness and French and fell flat, plummeting onto the floor where it belonged. And like every other pointless emotion, Jean swallowed it down. Balled it up to a size he could handle and dug a hole for it in the recesses of his mind where other senseless hopes lay.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau
Characters: Jean Moreau, Jeremy Knox, Catalina Alvarez (All For The Game), Laila Dermott, Renee Walker (All For The Game)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Alternate Universe - College/University, Vampires, but no one is actually a vampire, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, this is corny as hell, Getting Together, Fluff and Humor, Book 4: The Sunshine Court (All For The Game)
Summary:
Jeremy falls in love with the sexy new campus vampire. Jean is a transfer student just trying to graduate and work through his trauma.
Or:
Jeremy has no common sense and is convinced that Jean is a vampire and Jean is trying his best to be okay. Alvarez stirs the pot and Laila tries to be reasonable, but Renee is really the only reasonable one.
