#✧ “ sleep walking scholar ” ⇁ layla ✧

[teyvatians]

FINALLY updated the interest tracker after well over a year !!!

also gonna make a new tagging system while I got the ooc post up ! real tired of the old one .... been using it since my first first blog I think

[reixtsu]

Chapter 1: Banter and Bites

Synopsis: You enjoy a peaceful morning at your favorite café with your friend, Layla, until Kaveh and Alhaitham, two charming scholars, interrupt with their playful argument. After offering a food suggestion, you have a brief but memorable encounter with them, leaving you flustered-only to remind yourself that you already have a boyfriend.

wk: 2k

Taglist: @kaeyasrose

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Notes: I stared at my computer for a while before writing this. I was willing myself to just write something, anything, and after an unnecessary all-nighter full of stress, I got the first chapter done! Let me know what you all think! Also, Happy new years! Hope you all have a wonderful year this year!

Just when the sun began to rise, painting the sky with golden streaks, you liked to make yourself a nice cup of coffee. The comforting warmth of the cup rested between your palms, like a gentle wake-up call-a reminder that you were alive and well. At least, as well as one could be.

Today, however, you weren’t drinking coffee alone. Instead, you found yourself at a cozy café with your best friend, Layla. Her usual baggy eyes and constant yawning were absent, replaced by an unusual spark of energy that danced in her gaze.

“Finally got a good night’s sleep, huh?” you teased, glancing up from your notes from last class.

The blue-haired girl hummed in agreement, her head bobbing slightly as she cradled her coffee cup. “I did. I found this pill that really helps with sleep. I haven’t felt this alive in months!”

You chuckled, relieved to see her looking more vibrant. “Good. I’d hate to see you walking around like a zombie again.” Taking a sip of your coffee, you let the bitter taste linger on your tongue before melting away.

The caféwas bathed in the soft glow of morning light, golden rays filtering through wide windows and dancing across polished wooden tables. The quiet hum of conversation mingled with the faint hiss of an espresso machine, creating a gentle rhythm that matched the start of a new day. Potted plants adorned the corners, their vibrant green leaves catching the sunlight, while the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries lingered in the air- a tranquil haven before the day’s chaos began.

“Any progress on your side of the project?” Layla asked, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Yep. Finished the math part and made some notes that might help with your portion. Here.” Setting her coffee down, she reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly rolled scroll. You arched a brow, smirking as you took it from her hands.

“You always take care of me, you know that?” you teased, unrolling the scroll and scanning her meticulous notes.

The project focused on astrological predictions for climate shifts in Sumeru—analyzing how the positions of the stars could influence the seasons and weather patterns. Layla’s calculations were, as always, precise and impressive.

“Thanks for this, Layla. I’ll draft the essay tonight,” you said with a wink, setting the scroll on the wooden table between you.

Layla’s cheeks tinted slightly as she nodded, her shyness creeping in. “Thank you for being my partner, Y/N. You make work so much easier.”

You laughed softly. “No problem!”

Later, the hot Sumeru sun blazed down your back as you fanned yourself. Lunchtime meant you had a precious thirty minutes to grab a bite before your next lecture.

The campus around you bustled with life. Students of all ages moving through the towering, forest-inspired buildings. In the heart of it all was a familiar spot: Ametsuchi Bistro, an Inazuman-inspired restaurant nestled within the campus mall.

As you stepped into Ametsuchi Bistro, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. The warm glow of lanterns cast a soft, golden hue across the room, reminiscent of the evenings back home in Inazuma. The gentle hum of traditional shamisen music played in the background, blending seamlessly with the quiet chatter of patrons.

The air was filled with the familiar aroma of freshly brewed tea and sizzling takoyaki, instantly grounding you. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, their dark, polished surface gleaming faintly in the light. Delicate paper screens partitioned the room, creating cozy little nooks that reminded you of sitting around the kotatsu during chilly evenings.

Your gaze drifted to the walls, adorned with hand-painted depictions of Inazuman landscapes-stormy seascapes, serene cherry blossoms, and the towering silhouette of Narukami Shrine. Each detail whispered of home, evoking a comforting ache of familiarity.

Sliding into your usual seat at the bar, you felt the worn but sturdy wood beneath your hands. It reminded you of the weathered countertops of your family kitchen, where you once sat, listening to the sound of rain against the windows. The chef greeted you with a subtle nod, his voice steady and calm, adding to the sense of quiet belonging.

This place wasn’t just a restaurant. It was a pocket of home nestled in the bustling heart of Sumeru, a refuge where the past felt close enough to touch.

“The usual?” the chef asked as you started getting comfortable on your seat.

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

After a short time waiting, you settled on a simple yet flavorful dish: freshly grilled teriyaki salmon served over a bed of steaming rice and crisp vegetables. The aroma alone made your stomach rumble, and as you sank your teeth into the first bite, the flavors unfolded beautifully. The salmon was tender and perfectly glazed, the sweetness of the teriyaki sauce balanced by a subtle smokiness. Each mouthful melted on your tongue, and the warm, comforting blend of rice and savory juices made you close your eyes in bliss.

For a moment, it felt like nothing could ruin your peaceful lunch-until voices broke through the gentle hum of the restaurant.

“I told you I was paying today!”

“No, you didn’t. And even if you had, your budgeting skills are atrocious.”

The bickering grew louder, pulling you from your meal. Lifting your gaze, you spotted two familiar figures near the counter. Alhaitham stood, arms crossed with an exasperated look, while Kaveh gestured dramatically, holding his wallet as though it were a shield in an impending battle.

“I’m not letting you pay! You’d pick something boring to save mora!”

“And you’d overspend on something ridiculous again.”

You sighed, setting your fork down and awkwardly watched the scene unfold, your once-perfect moment of solitude now thoroughly interrupted.

You watched their back-and-forth, a small frown tugging at your lips. Despite the playful bickering, you couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Kaveh. He was clearly trying so hard to be the bigger person, yet Alhaitham’s calm, almost indifferent attitude kept shutting him down. You couldn’t help but think Kaveh deserved a little more credit for his efforts.

Though it annoyed you that your peaceful moment was now caught in the middle of their argument, you decided to step in before it escalated any further. You placed your napkin down gently, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, and made your way to the counter.

As you approached, both their eyes turned to you, a slight pause in their heated exchange. You smiled politely, not wanting to seem rude. "Hey, I couldn't help but overhear, and…” you hesitated just slightly, wondering if you were intruding. "It seems like you're both pretty passionate about food, so if you’d like, I can recommend a few dishes."

Kaveh’s expression softened slightly at the suggestion, though he still looked a little flustered. "Oh, really?" He shifted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I could use some backup here. He’s impossible when it comes to meal choices."

You chuckled quietly, your tone light and nonchalant. “I totally get it. I’m a big fan of the chef’s special miso soup… it’s savory without being too heavy. And if you want something sweet, their matcha tiramisu is amazing.”

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward ever so slightly, or was it your imagination? "I suppose I could try the tiramisu... if it’s as good as you say."

Kaveh beamed at the shift in the conversation, a golden aura of pride surrounding him. "See? You do have a soft spot for sweets!"

You smiled again, feeling a bit more at ease now that the tension had loosened. "I hope I didn’t interrupt anything too important. I just thought I’d offer a little help." You felt a small blush creep onto your cheeks, worried you might’ve come off as too forward, especially two two handsome tall men who have a name in Sumeru.

Alhaitham, however, just nodded in acknowledgment. "Appreciated. We can’t argue about everything, I suppose."

Kaveh winked at you. “Thanks for the suggestions. You saved me from another pointless battle."

A blush started to paint on your face but you simply just gave them a small bow. “It’s no problem, really. I'm a regular here… so… I know all the food.” You let out a little laugh, nervous.

A blush started to paint on your face, but you simply gave them a small bow. “It’s no problem, really. I’m a regular here… so… I know all the food.” You let out a little laugh, nervous, but trying to stay calm. You hoped you didn’t come off as too awkward.

Kaveh’s gaze softened slightly, noticing the slight flush on your cheeks, and he leaned a little closer, curiosity piqued. "A regular, huh? Guess that explains why you seem so comfortable here. And you’ve got good taste in food too." He tilted his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before though. You sure you’ve been coming here a lot?"

You nodded quickly, trying to reassure him. "Yeah, definitely. I just usually grab takeout or come with a friend. It’s rare I sit down, but…" you glanced around, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “It’s nice to sit here for a change."

Kaveh raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Hm, well, I’m glad you decided to stay today. You’ve got a nice energy about you." He grinned, leaning back slightly. "I’m Kaveh, by the way. And this is Alhaitham," he added, nodding toward the other man, who was already flipping through a small book of notes he had pulled out from his bag, seemingly unimpressed by the exchange.

You gave them both a small nod. “Nice to meet you both.” You could feel your nerves kicking in again but tried to push it down, smiling softly.

Alhaitham, never one for small talk, glanced up from his notes and nodded. “Alhaitham,” he said briefly, his voice neutral. “We’ve taken up enough of your time already. We’ll finalize the order now.”

With that, Kaveh grinned and pushed Alhaitham toward the counter, the two of them ordering their meals, their light banter continuing in the background. You watched them for a moment, their effortless chemistry apparent. Once they’d placed their orders, Alhaitham handed over the payment, and Kaveh, still in high spirits, waved a final farewell.

“Take care!” Kaveh called over his shoulder as the two of them left the restaurant, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You returned to your seat, a flurry of emotions swirling inside you. Your heart was racing a little faster than usual, and you couldn’t help but replay your brief interaction with them over and over. Both Kaveh and Alhaitham were so... striking. Kaveh’s flirtatious energy and teasing smile, Alhaitham’s calm, collected demeanor-they were two sides of a coin that seemed to complement each other effortlessly.

Blushing slightly, you took a bite of your food, hoping to focus on something other than those two handsome scholars. The comforting taste of the miso soup soothed your nerves, but your mind couldn’t help but wander back to their faces. Kaveh had been so charismatic, and Alhaitham-well, Alhaitham was the type to catch your attention without even trying.

But then, just as quickly as your thoughts began to drift, a wave of realization hit you. You already had a boyfriend. You had no reason to let your mind get tangled up in the allure of two people you barely knew.

You groaned inwardly, taking another spoonful of soup, trying to force the thought away. “Get it together,” you muttered under your breath, a little annoyed with yourself. You were here to enjoy your meal, not to daydream about someone else.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thoughts of Kaveh’s teasing grin and Alhaitham’s intense gaze from your mind. You sighed, realizing this would probably be the last time you’d be able to enjoy a peaceful lunch for a while before life became chaotic with schoolwork again.

Next

[scarletwritesshit]

✎ Alhaitham x Layla ✎ Study (They Mean Do Nothing) Date

Alhaitham had agreed to meet Layla for a study date to assist her with the structuring and drafting of her research paper. She had been unable to make any progress on her own, struggling with translating her thoughts into words in manner that was satisfactory. To help ease some of her stress, as well as squeeze in a bit of quality time together, the two of them set up a time to converse on the subject.

Of course, nothing ever got done on these little dates, much to Layla’s dismay. This time, however, was going to be different. For sure. Layla was going to stay entirely conscious and rely only on the help of Alhaitham for assistance. None of that “blessing of the stars” nonsense.

Or, that was the plan at least.

Layla always fell asleep shortly after Alhaitham would arrive. Unfortunately, because of her seeking outside assistance, the stars would deem her unworthy of their blessing, so she never woke up to find any of her projects magically done. In a way, she viewed that man as a setback to her academic future.

It was why that more than ever, Layla needed to remain awake. She was going to make considerable progress, whether she liked it or not, and Alhaitham was going to help make sure of it.

She organized what she could ahead of time, categorizing her notes into somewhat sensible groups and laying out disappointingly empty pieces of paper in front of her. Her eyes were weighing heavy with sleep deprivation, blankly staring at the page hoping for words to magically manifest before her. Unfortunately, that was not how writing worked, despite the endless wishes of countless drained Sumeru scholars echoing into the night. Layla could manage to write down a few words, usually constructing sentences that sounded as if they were strung together by a young child who had just found a dictionary. Before she would even be able to finish a paragraph, she would hate herself for the results of her nowhere near completed rough draft, then crumple up the page and toss it off to the side.

Alhaitham was greeted by the usual distressed Layla, surrounded by scrapped ideas and careless ink stains. Unlike a certain architect that constantly burdened him on a daily basis, Alhaitham was confident in Layla’s skills and value as a person. He always thought highly of her being a hard worker, perhaps too hard of a worker. Alhaitham at least knew how to pace himself, but Layla didn’t know when to allow herself a break.

Because of this, these little study dates of theirs were a cover-up for a larger plot of Alhaitham’s to allow for Layla to get the one thing she desperately needed; a well-deserved rest. Did it result in Layla hating herself for allowing herself to doze off? Perhaps, but it was a sacrifice that had to be made for the betterment of her health.

Alhaitham quietly made her aware of his presence, making sure as to not startle her out of her skin. He was greeted by her usual sleepy, half aware gaze, though her face lit up with a subconscious smile at the sight of him. Layla allowed for Alhaitham to take a seat next to her, practically taking up the entirety of the seat itself. There was just enough room for Layla to comfortably nestle herself between the arm of the chair and Alhaitham’s body.

He instructed for her to show him the notes that she had accumulated over time, pleasantly surprised with the amount of effort she managed to put into the organization. For someone who spent the majority of her life walking the boundary between the waking world and the dreaming stars, he was quite impressed at the coherent organization and reasoning of her gathered ideas.

Despite how much effort she had forced herself into preparing for their little date, Layla was fighting a losing battle from the start. Alhaitham’s presence was simply too much for her drained body, making the act of resisting sleep a near impossible task. A mere blink felt like agony to her, with each second of shut-eye causing Layla to crave longer and longer periods of restful darkness.

At this point in time, Layla’s accumulated hours of sleep likely totaled to less than ten for the entire week, and her lack of energy was causing her to fall further and further behind. To her sleepy, spaced-out mind, Alhaitham practically felt like a giant pillow, comforting the entirety of her body and drawing her in for a restful night’s sleep.

She wanted to fight it off. She knew she was better than this.

Alhaitham refused to show any mercy to her poor, drained soul. Without so much as bothering to brush over the unfinished work that lay before him, he lifted his arm to wrap around Layla’s body. He pulled her in as close to his body as he possibly could, careful as to not forcefully restrain her, but just enough for Layla to become engulfed with the strength of his body.

Layla couldn’t help but allow herself to relax under the gentle pressure of Alhaitham’s hold. She leaned her head against his chest, sinking into the muscle mass that she now claimed as her pillow. His steady heartbeat soothed Layla, who was already in a weak position from neglecting her sleep schedule for such a long time. Sleep was quickly beginning to conquer her.

A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, she would think to herself. Surely, after hours of staring at what felt like the same combination of five different constellation related words, she deserved a brief moment of shut-eye to refresh herself, right?

Alhaitham knew that he was successful in getting to her. He shifted his body ever so slightly so that Layla would be able to fall into him and drift off to sleep without the effort of keeping herself upright. Within moments, she was out cold for what he assumed was the first time all week.

With Layla now asleep, Alhaitham tightened his grip on her body ever so slightly so that her workaholic alter ego would be unable to wake and write the entire course of an essay in the span of an hour. He imagined that any attempts by her to break free would be met with such great resistance from Alhaitham that she would deem the effort not worth it and simply pass out in his arms once more. Strangely enough, this never once happened, as Layla peacefully slept through the entire evening. No disturbances, no restlessness, nothing.

It was a simple, yet effective plan for him to coax his beloved into taking care of herself. Alhaitham often wondered if Layla ever caught on, as she was no easy woman to fool herself. Perhaps she simply allowed him to constantly do this, yet refused to admit that she knew all along.

Regardless, it also provided Alhaitham with an excuse to hold her so close to himself, although, he wasn’t entirely immune to his own devious scheme. He would have nothing to occupy himself with for the duration of their “study session,” as he would be unable to move without the fear of disturbing Layla’s rare period of uninterrupted slumber. Plus, having her so close was quite comforting to him.

Compared to Alhaitham, Layla was quite small, yet his heart was struck in a certain way by gently holding her frail body ever so close. It was like cradling a baby bird, filling his normally lone heart with a happiness that could only be explained with the definition of love. Eventually, with a gentle smile on his face, Alhaitham would too, drift off to sleep.

Nothing would be accomplished that evening. No discussion, drafting, anything that could make as much as an ounce of progress. In fact, not a single word was ever exchanged between Alhaitham and Layla, but the two had the mutual understanding to where words need not be thrown about.

[ziasann]

End in what All begins

This is how the halls of Daena have fallen, each scholar spiralling down to madness.

Tighnari is surrounded by vines, compounds, flower that once inhaled could lead to hallucinations. He is no stranger to the side effects of botany but he plucks every rose on the garden, eats its purple petals, and bleeds with the thorns in his tongue. He bares his canines, wild and venomous, at anyone who steps on the grass of his forest.

So the General Mahamtra approaches the Fennec with silent footsteps.

But Tighnari is gone. His eyes are rabid and livid, hunting for all life that exists across Sumeru. Cyno holds Tighnari down like his best friend is an animal, a predator, a danger and he hates his position in Sumeru now more than anything else.

...

Layla doesn't sleep anymore.

As if all the hours she has spent slumbering are now making up for all the hours she is wide awake. She is wide awake under the stars as she stares, she mutters, "the sky and the stars are fake. There is no truth here, only our end."

The Wanderer passes by her once and sets his jaw tight. Something is wrong in Celestia, the constellations in Teyvat are spinning round and round into black holes.

Layla walks and walks as if she can reach the dome of the skies. Once, a fellow Rtahwist scholar pulls her back from diving off towards a cliff. Her pretty head never gazes down, only up to where her precious stars are.

...

Kaveh is in a heap of shredded papers and broken pencils. Plan after plan, on the floor, on the desk, on the house he shares with Alhaitham. His hands are more alive than the rest of his body.

The wine is untouched and the drunkards at the Tavern are searching for their passionate architect. But Kaveh is scavenging for everything: materials, techniques, wood and timber, anything to recreate the paradise in his head. There is a vision in his mind aching to be let out.

Alhaitham once shakes him out of stupor and Kaveh only whips to him with scarlet, Deshret eyes, "I have to build it! I have to build a paradise for Them!"

"Who, Kaveh?" Alhaitham asks worn and frayed at the edges. "Who?!"

"For the true gods of Teyvat."

...

Faruzan mumbles another language after another dialect. All the Haravatat scholars cannot understand her. She speaks in formulas, word puzzles, ancient wisdom that is restricted. Perhaps, her time that is stolen as she is stucked in the ruins have finally crushed her mind.

She isn't supposed to be alive. The miracle took its price on her.

...

Cyno has assumed before that he will be the first to go mad. His ancestral lineage is closer to the desert rather than the rainforests. Hermanubis has revealed to him before in their contract, that his ancestors are from the fall of King Deshret. Thus, he must pay the sins of his forebearers by carrying the golden burden of the General Mahamatra.

If the cause is the proximity of Sumerian citizens Forbidden Knowledge, then it is supposed to be him first before anyone else. But Cyno can merely watch as everyone around him lose themselves in the haze of curiosity and lust for knowledge. There is something uncontrollable in the air and Lesser Lord Kusanali is found unconscious in her Sanctuary.

More mad scholars pile up in the Matra's reports and Cyno wonders what they see, (what Faruzan speaks of, what Layla dazes of, what Kaveh draws of,) and what Tighnari is chasing so far that he will even leave Collei alone.

By the end of the month, the Matra knocks on the door to the office of the General Mahamatra. When no one answers, they kick the walls down to see their beloved General on the floor. Cyno is on the floor, he paints the ground with chalk, circles and circles, and uses Electro to flare and experiment with the Elements. He almost seems normal until they notice Cyno is smiling. He is grinning, crescent and wide, at the figures and equations from the Temple of Silence on the pavement.

Cyno smiles and there is no joke, the Matra realize that they have lost him too.

...

The Wanderer isn't affected by this affliction.

He is not born in Sumeru nor is he pursuing the esoteric in this world. He has sought after death before and even such thing has turned out to be meaningless in the end. Nahida is peacefully asleep in her chambers and the Wanderer wonders if she is in a nightmare or a fantasy. Both are cruel in their current reality.

The Irminsul is withering cold and ashened. That Scribe is already contacting the Traveler for the strange phenomena but they are far far from Sumeru. Even Alhaitham will soon succumb to the calling from the other side.

It is, as the Wanderer have suspected, the Forbidden Knowledge that is reawakened and blighted and utilized so that the Cataclysm will repeat. The effects are drastic in Sumeru as they are connected in Irminsul, the scholars will be the first to predict and determine the Fall. So the evil corrupts them in advance, so the world will know less. So that Teyvat will be nonethewiser, all of its scholars almost dead, so that nobody will tell them the end is coming.

The end is coming and the wisest will leave, there is no salvation for this Second Cataclysm.

(Have you not wondered why the door of Khaenri'ah is in Sumeru?

Because theirs is the Land of Dreams, and Khaenri'ah are those who dream of dreaming.)

[suicidalgamergirl]

Weekend’s At Nessie’s: The Cast

Short biographies of characters in this fic:

-Vanessa “Nessie” Alexandria: A 32 year old washed up web comic artist who cleans offices for a living and uses her tablets for reading/drawing. She lives alone in her 3 room apartment. Very insecure about herself, due to an SA and past relationship forcing her to have sex. Because of this, she has very high insecurities about herself. She tends to beat herself up by self harming. Hence her arms are always covered in bandages. She dyed her hair pink and black as a self resistance to not fit into society’s beauty standards for women.

-Ken: Vanessa’s one and only boyfriend. Ended the relationship because Nessa caught him cheating on her. Thinks Vanessa is nothing but a lazy fat fuck because she couldn’t sleep with him. Always puts her down and he doesn’t know what Vanessa sees in him. He is glad that Vanessa is still miserable and he’s living his best life with his superficial model girlfriend, Katsy.

****

Gur Hunters.

-Rolan/The Boss: A monster hunter veteran that has the Gur Hunters’ bloodline. He teaches his fellow hunters how to slay monsters, especially vampires. He has a beef with The Vampire Ascendant, who had taken all his glory for defeating Cazador Szaar. He hates vampires and how authors made them as glorified misunderstood creatures of the night.

-Zahra: Second in command of hunters. She prefers her twin uzis, filled with silver bullets. Agrees with Rolan, but at times, she thinks he’s old fashioned for using older weapons.

-Rodney: An ex veteran who had seen the horrors humans can do to each other. No matter what war is going on, there will always be one enemy to take out. Human or supernatural.

-Layla: A quiet computer hacker who mostly gets to look up monsters roaming the streets. Some might think her day job is being a V-Tuber. She takes coding to the next level and savors instant ramen daily.

-Doug: A scholar who wants to learn about the supernatural creatures that roam this world. If he was in command, he wanted to capture and study The Vampire Ascendant, a vampire lord who can walk freely in sunlight. He takes too much delight in examinations.

****

-Astarion Ancunin/The Vampire Ascendant: Here he lives after slaying the netherbrain and his cruel master centuries ago. Granted, his love for Tav ditched him and did not value the gift of immortality. He now spends nights as a roaming vampire lord, enjoying the quirks of modern day humans. He promised to never to fall for another prey like Tav. He doesn’t want to feel the pain of having Tav die.

****

Here are the small bios. Been busy reading stuff on my eReader. And yes, there is such thing as a Deep N’ Delicious cake.

[blues824]

Request: Hello again! Sorry to bug you but I seen The Remarried empreon your list I just couldn’t resist and wondered if I could request Navier, Heinrey, and Kosair x Layla! Reader (Genshin.) The reader is someone that is dedicated to their studies but sacrifices their precious sleep because of this. They also have a sleep deprived look to them but are still able to retain their beauty they also sleepwalk a lot but unconsciously do work and think they have been blessed by the stars when they wake up. (Bonus if you could include Sovieshu‘s reaction to Navier falling for the reader and slowly focusing all her attention on them instead of the fact that Sovieshu now has a concubine and maybe Rashta’s and Krista’s too for Heinrey.)

Glad to know you like it too! This is different from what I usually do, because most of these are romantic. Gender-neutral reader.

Preface: You are a scholar who specializes in Theoretical Astrology. You’re the Eastern Empire’s/Western Kingdom’s official astrologist, and along with capturing the character’s interest you also captured their heart. 

Navier

She has been wondering why you had not visited her yet when one of her handmaidens had informed her that you had been caught in your studies. You were trying to gather information on one of the nobles that Navier grew suspicious of and it took a lot of time trying to get into his mind through the stars.

The handmaiden went on to say that you hadn’t truly slept in about 3 days. Your somnambulism had caused a few servants quite a fright because they thought you were the walking dead. Oh, you poor thing. You didn’t know when to quit, did you?

She, as silently as she could, made her way to your tower. You had been given your own space so that you wouldn’t be disturbed while you were studying, and when she made it there she saw you walking around. She went up to you and looked you in the eye just to see them closed.

Navier knew that this was a bit unorthodox of her, but she held you by the shoulders and gently led you back to your chambers. She looked around and saw how much of a mess it was. No wonder you were having such a hard time: you couldn’t find anything. 

However, all of a sudden, you sprung back out of your bed. You looked around and started to clean up the huge mess. The Empress was shocked at how energetic you suddenly seemed. You seemed to be referring to yourself as ‘Daytime’ for some reason… she was just so confused (just as you were when you woke up to find your room clean and the work done).

By the way, Sovieshu is totally jealous of you because you managed to steal his wife’s attention and distract her from him having a mistress. Rashta seems upset because the attention is off of her and all on you.

Heinrey

He had asked you if it was a wise decision to visit the Eastern Empire when he was invited for Navier’s New Year’s Party. Unfortunately, that resulted in not seeing you for a while. Unfortunately, our lovely prince here got a bit touch-starved.

He asked around and found out that you had stayed up for 3 consecutive days. That certainly would not fly (get it?) past him. He rushed to your tower to see you for himself. Surely the servant that gave him the information was mistaken… right?

When he made it to the building, he saw how you were on the verge of falling asleep. He was about to lead you to your bed when you immediately sprung up and started rushing around the room. Heinrey watched as you just zoomed back and forth.

Eventually, you settled back down, but you weren’t done working. No, you gathered your papers, put them in order, and went to your balcony to look through your telescope. You were speaking a thousand miles a minute.

Heinrey held you by your shoulders and asked what was going on. You spouted on about “Daytime Y/N” and how they needed help. He was so freaking concerned. Does he need to call the royal physician to inspect you?

Lady Krista acts like she is friendly towards you, but she’s only doing it because she wants Heinrey to look at her in a positive light. She doesn’t truly care about whatever happens to you, as long as you don’t get too close to the Prince.

Kosair

He decided to surprise you. You both have been great friends (oh, how he wished you were more than just that) for a long time, but since he’s been traveling he hasn’t been able to see you at all. It was supposed to be a happy moment.

However, when he got Navier’s letter that you hadn’t slept in a while, he was concerned. Didn’t you know that wasn’t healthy, love? He wrote back saying that he would be there earlier than expected, and he set out immediately towards his younger sister’s palace.

He made it to your tower and saw that you were just walking around aimlessly. He ran up the stairs and intercepted you before you had a chance to fall down. He turned you around and pushed you back into your room.

Before he was able to push you into bed, you dodged his hands and ran around your room to tidy it up a bit. Then you grabbed a few papers that Kosair guessed you were working on before rushing out to the balcony with your telescope.

He went out with you, and you gasped upon looking at the stars. They never failed to amaze you, be it Daytime Y/N or Night-time Y/N. Kosair had to admit that this was why he fell head over heels for you. You never failed to make him just as excited about the great balls of gas in the night.

You handed him the telescope before jotting down some notes. You were muttering something about how this would help “Daytime Y/N” tremendously. Mans was so freaking concerned and confused, and you were too just a few hours later.

[peachnewt]

Layla’s Spool: A Giant/tiny story

When Layla, the only sister of a house full of rough hunters and trappers finds a giant washed ashore after a storm, she takes pity on it despite knowing that helping a monster might get her burned at the stake as a witch. What starts as begrudging charity turns into affection between Samuel, the giant shipwrecked scholar, and Layla, the girl that can fit in the palm of his hand.

Layla’s Spool - by peachnewt

Clouds boiled over the sea, the wind whipping air and water into a cold froth and mist flashed in the distance over the sea, the wind whipping up Layla’s black locks and throwing them back in her face as she dragged her cart along the sand, looking for driftwood and possibly trinkets.  She kept her skirts hiked up to her knees, freeing her bare feet from tripping over their ragged hems.  A stray thread from her bodice and used it to tie her hair back.  Despite the rough winds, she would dare not let another person get at the pickings before her.  Already she had gathered a few lengths of rope.  

 A storm had raged along the sea coast for the last few days, breaking limbs and foundering boats.  As it passed, it left gifts upon the beaches, driftwood, kelp, sometimes rope and bits of metal.  Layla considered herself lucky that others were too afraid to approach the beaches so soon after a storm, afraid of disturbing beached whales or monsters from the deep.  No such things would come to the quiet coast of Winchel.  

 A piece of carved wood, maybe a part of a ship’s bow stuck out of the wet sand.  A little digging and Layla unearthed it only to stand back aghast.  It was not part of any ship she had ever seen.  A long cylinder, as big around as her waist longer than her arm, splintered at one end like it was supposed to be longer.  On one side she saw a hole in it bigger than her fist.  Perhaps a wooden pipe to one of those newfangled pipe-organs?

 Layla heaved her finding into the wagon and kept moving.  A large outcropping of rock poked out of sand ahead, she would either have to go around in the surf, or climb.  Rather than get her skirts wetter than they already were, she climbed, leaving her wagon behind.  A groaning rumble echoed beyond the rocks.  More thunder?  

 At the crest of the rocks Layla froze.  

 ***  

 Samuel shivered in his long-coat, the grit from the wet sand sticking to his face and hair as he collapsed on his chest from wading into the beach.  How he had survived the swim from the wreckage with the coat on was beyond him, but now it weighed cold on his back.  His temple still bled from a gash given to him when the main mast had split. The pounding in his head made his vision blur in and out.  He kept his left hand close to his chest.  At least two of the fingers were broken, the digits curling inwards towards the palm like a flower refusing to bloom.  

 Out of the corner of his eye she saw a flash of muted green.  The skirt of a young woman sitting on top of a outcropping of rocks far away.  She seemed frightened, as if she had never seen a man shipwrecked before.  He reached out his hand, hoping to get her attention, his voice rough from the saltwater he nearly inhaled during the storm.

 “Help,” he rasped.  “Please.”  

 Help splinting his hand. Help to get dry and warm.  Help with his hunger.  Help to get back home.  Heavens above, a kind face would be a grace to him.  He reached his hand further to the woman, begging.  

 The dark haired woman shrieked and crawled away to the other side of the rocks.  Why would she fear a nearly drowned man with less strength than a kitten?  

 When his fingers touched the rocks that were so far away, his mind sobered from his lethargy and pain.

 Samuel realized the startling difference between his still muddled perspective, and distance.  The outcropping of rocks no more than a foot tall, and the young woman no bigger than his hand.  

 Samuel jerked back his arm with a gasp.  Had he been marooned on some fairy isle?  Was he suffering some delusion caused by the knock to his head?  Or worse, in a land where everyone was small?  

 The thumping in Samuel’s head deepened until the dark edge of his vision crept inwards.  The shock had finally got to him.  He managed to turn over on his side, still cradling his damaged left hand.  

 “God, help me,” he murmured as sleep took him.  

***

 Layla sat shaking, muffling her mouth with her shawl.  A giant. A real giant had washed up onto her shore.  She glanced over the rocks again.  Albeit a very tired giant.  One that looked hurt.  Still a giant.  Probably took to raiding the countryside and eating live cows on the weekends while it took care of it’s clothes during the weekdays.  

 She should run to the village and get the soldiers.  Get away from trouble before the trouble got her.  But something stopped her.  Perhaps the glint of gold off the giant’s hair, or the way his brow furrowed while dreaming.

 The breeze picked up again; another storm making itself known for landfall soon.  Layla gritted her teeth and went back down her wagon.  

 ***

 Samuel woke to his broken hand on fire.  He jerked it back to his chest and something small hit him on the shoulder.  

 “You keep movin’ it like that it’s gonna heal crooked.  D’ya hear me?”  

 Samuel opened his eyes. The tiny, dark haired woman in the green skirt stood by the sandy indent where his broken hand had lay, a pile of rope and driftwood by her.  She had been splinting his fingers.  Cumbersome work for a such a tiny thing, but she had managed to get three of his fingers straightened.  

 “Sorry,” he said, shifting his hand back to her.  Any fear he might have inspired had evaporated as she went back to work.  “Thank you.”  

 “Yeah, I should be sorry.” The woman, pulled on his ring finger, straightening the bones with quick motions before lining it up with the driftwood. “Ya asked for help, so I’m giving it.”

 “Why did you take pity on me?”  

 “Ya called out for God.”

 “I supposed I did,” said Samuel.  He blinked hard, trying to get rid of the sand in his eyes.  “But how did that sway your decision?”  

 “Figured if a man is askin’ help from God, he’s hit rock bottom and begging.  And I was taught to never look down on beggars.”  

 “I am not a beggar,” said Samuel.  The nerve of that woman, thinking him a beggar when… well, a castaway was close to a beggar.  But there was still a difference.  “I’m lost.”

 “You could have fooled me,” said the woman with a laugh, but the pitch of the laugh was off, as if forced. “Look, I can patch up yer hand, but if we say here any longer we’ll either meet up with the storm, or soldiers on patrol, and I’d rather not have either.  Can ya get to yer feet?”  

 “Yes.”  

 The young woman tied off the rope and stood back.  “Good, ‘cause we need to get moving.”  

 With a few pauses and a careful eye to make sure he didn’t step on anything, like his new guide, Samuel made it to his feet.  He followed behind the tiny woman as she led him through snarling trees as tall as him. Despite her size, the woman moved nimbly and Samuel had to actually work to catch up.  Though he stumbled a few times, she kept encouraging him to move, just a little further.

 Just a little further.  Right.  He’d heard that before when he’d been told his new teaching post was just a short trip across the sea.  Overhead the clouds kept rumbling as a light rain pelted down on his scalp.  He was tempted to reach out and see if the sky was closer than he thought, but the ache in his body bound him to trudge forward.  

 During the walk he learned the young woman’s name, Layla, and that, indeed, everyone else in the country was the same size as her.  Except her brothers; large, muscled brutes that could take him down if they wanted. Samuel assumed that last bit was more of a warning pointed towards him if he tried to do anything violent to Layla. He couldn’t if he tried, he was too weak.  

 Perhaps by accident, if he tripped and fell on her.  

 Oh, how he wanted to sleep. “I’m tired,” he murmured, resting his weight on the branch of a tree that creaked at his touch.  

 “A little further, giant” Layla said.  “I promise.”

 The “little further” turned out to be a glade big enough for him to lay down, trees curving overhead creating a shelter that kept most of the rain away.  To the side of the glade bubbled a rocky spring.  Within minutes Samuel lay back on the ground, asleep, the promise of Layla’s return echoing in the lull between dream and awake.  

 Samuel woke.  The rain had stopped, and the rest of his hand had been splinted.  The sun shined and birds overhead sang.  A semblance of normalcy in this odd new world.  But when would Layla be back?

 He wondered what was worse; being a giant, or being at the mercy of a small woman.  

 She had been right, he was a beggar.

 ***

 As the only living, and of age, female in the Winchel family tree, Layla had more than her share of brothers and cousins and uncles looking after her, even from afar.  At any one time half a dozen brothers or uncles would be taking up space in the cottage, on their way from one hunting area to another, gathering furs and trading.  She would receive bear hugs, bruising nudges at coarse jokes, but all done with affection. They left her with provisions and she kept the cottage from falling into ruin and occasionally making the meals.  

 As Layla looked at the larder, she wondered how much a giant could eat in one day.  More than what she had available, especially when her brothers could make off with all the bread and cheese in one sitting.  Though technically poor, they lived comfortably, but sometimes that comfort came way of poaching when the larder ran bare.  

 Layla huffed a breath as one uncle ruffled her hair and took a wedge of cheese from a shelf.  She had to improvise.  Over the afternoon she gathered all the dandelion greens she could find and boiled the bitterness out of them.  She then added onions, garlic, and a few of the potatoes in the cellar that had dried too much for human consumption.  A little salt and a lot of water left her with a broth too thin for a monk on a fast.  It would have to do.

 She had two of her brothers haul the heavy cast iron pot to her wagon, retrieved from the beach after the storm had died down.  

 “What you hauling this soup for?” one asked.  

 “You call this soup?” said the other, lifting the lid.  

 “There’s a shrine up in the woods,” said Layla.  It wasn’t really a lie.  Father Constant had once said nature was a shrine to God.  “Figured I’d bring an offering for any beggars.  Get up my good deeds.”  

 “What you need good deeds fer?” asked the other.  “You praying for a husband?  We can find you one.”  

 “No, thank you,” said Layla with a roll of her eyes.  She knew the types they would find.  More like them, thick headed and full of hunger.  She waved off their offer to help with the wagon, saying it was a solitary pilgrimage to feed beggars.  

 ***

 The smile the giant had given Layla when she had returned made the glade seem warmer.  The weak broth she brought gratefully accepted.  He had laid out his coat in the sun to dry, a swath of dark blue that covered most of the glade.  She could crawl through the sleeves if she wanted.  

 Layla lay in the shade cast by the giant, taking a longer look at Samuel now that the sun rose high. Though huge and pale, his features were pleasing.  Eyes round and attentive, nose sharp, and lips full and proportional to the rest of him. He wasn’t muscled like her brothers. He stood tall and lanky.  

 “I don’t know how to repay you for your kindness,” said the giant, sipping at the broth.  His splinted hand lay in his lap, a testament of her handiwork.  

 With her experience of binding up the legs or arms of her brothers, Layla figured his hand would be fine in a few weeks, but she didn’t know if giant bones mended faster or slower.

 “I could think of ways,” said Layla, sitting by the spring.  “But they would all end up with either me being burned as a witch or you being hunted as an ogre.”  

 “Still, I might be able to pay you, meager as it may be.”  The giant put down the broth and reached for a pocket in his coat and withdrew a leather pouch.  From it he took out a handful of large round discs and held them to the ground next to her. “Would any of these do?”  

 Each disc held a profile of a man’s face larger than her own.  Coins, Layla realized.  They were giant coins of copper, silver, and gold.  Her eyes widened at such wealth.  She crawled into Samuel’s hand and held up one of the coins polishing it with the hem of her skirt.  With one gold coin she could buy a carriage, hire a team of horses and a man to drive her all the way to Joston and back in style.  

 Her smile dropped.  

 “They are real, I assure you,” said Samuel.

 “That isn’t the problem,” said Layla, laying down the polished coin.  “I know yer honest.  But if I try to spend something like this, or have it melted down to sell as raw gold or silver, people will ask questions.  I won’t have a good enough answer to back it up.  And ya don‘t want to know what happens to those the Soldiers catch in a lie.”  

 The giant grimaced.  “Forgive me.  I did not think this through.”  

 Layla shaded her eyes as the sun glinted off the giant’s hair, making it glow like a halo of honey and copper.  An idea came to her.  “Giant, lay down.”  

 “Samuel, please,” he said. “And why?”  

 “Just do it.  And lay your head somewhere I can get to it.”  

 She got a hold of a lock of hair behind the giant’s ear, passing it through her fingers.  While a single strand was thick and a little bit wiry, its color was magnificent.  Dark amber, copper, gold.  And the giant--no, Samuel--kept his hair long, far past his shoulders.  At least four yards in her book.  

 Layla grinned and leaned towards Samuel’s ear.  “I think I know how you can pay me back!”  

 ***

 The next day Layla pulled her cart, laden with more dandelion greens, and a case of empty spools.

 ***

 While giant gold coins would have raised questions, spools of “long-haired yak” thread simply raised a few eyebrows amongst the Textile’s Guild.  Until she showed them the two spools she had brought as a sample; one a single pale strand from the top of Samuel‘s head, the other a dark amber from the thinner under layer.  Then their eyes lit up.  The touch of gold they could create in their embroidery, their weaving, more luxurious than the pale yellow and orange they were used to.  

 “How did you manage to get such thread?” asked the Head Dyer as she held the spool up to the light.  

 Layla, after thinking over her story a hundred times, had her lies lined up and ready.  It wouldn‘t do to have the Textile Guild believe she could spin straw into gold.  “My uncle in Joston came back from a trip to the East Nations and he brought a shipment of this stuff with him.  Sent out a few spool to his nieces and daughters to try it out before presenting it to other merchants.”  

 A partial truth; her uncle had sent her cases and cases of empty spools thinking she could fill them with flax.  He hadn’t realized flax grew in short supply in the village.  

 “This isn’t thread,” said the Head Weaver, pulling the thread out to circle his finger.  “It’s a single fiber.  That’s impossible.  And it‘s so thin and wiry it could almost be made from metal.”  

 Layla shrugged, a not-quite lie ready for the question.  “I don’t know how them Eastern folk make thread, just what it’s called.”  

 “How much of this do you have?”  

 “I can get a whole box of it if you’d like.  I don’t do much fancy embroidery or sewing anyway, so it won’t do me much good.  But uncle said I shouldn’t let it go cheap.”

 The Head Weaver looked skeptical, but the Head Dyer looked willing.  

 “We’ll pay you for these two spools.  If they are satisfactory, we’ll make a deal.”  

 Good enough for Layla. And for more than greens to thicken Samuel’s next pot of stew.  

 ***

 “They believe my hair was long haired yak?” asked Samuel aghast.  

 “I could have said moose,” said Layla with a smile.  “If a place is far enough away, even learned folk in a small town will believe it.”  

 “Well, as long as it’s keeping your out of arrears,” said Samuel, sipping his broth.  It tasted thicker, more vegetables and less bitterness. “I’d imagine the foodstuffs needed for this feast you’re making cost quite a lot.”  

 “Not as much as you think. It’s coming out of your hide anyway.”

 Samuel laughed.

 ***

 It became routine that Layla would come in the middle of the day with her broth.  During her stay she would talk with Samuel and examine his hand, feeling around to make sure the bones were still lined up and healing correctly.  Sometimes her fingers lingered in the swirls of the giant’s fingerprints.  Samuel wasn’t a sailor or trapper or hunter, she had learned. He was a teacher.  A learned man with stories of faraway places and new ways of doing things.  Things with numbers and letters and people she’d never heard of before.  And Samuel was more than willing to tell her.  

 Her brothers at first took her trips to the “shrine” with humor.  

 “Really hoping for God to come through with a husband, eh?”  

 She would shrug them off, tell them that she had to keep up the good deeds for the rest of the family. They let her go at that, rubbing at her tangled hair as she gathered more greens and vegetables for the soup pot.

 Once, after a late night mending an uncle’s leather coat, and an early morning making meal packs for four brothers that would be out on a week long hunting trip, she fell asleep right as Samuel drank his broth.  Samuel finished off the broth and then laid down beside her, head as close to her as he dared.  His breath ripped warm over his small body.

 Layla lay curled in a ball of faded green and brown.  Gently, he pushed her dark hair away from her face.  Though young, lines already creased around her eyes from the sun, hard work, and worry.  Her eyes too heavy lidded and her lips small.  Yet to Samuel she was beautiful, harsh language and all.  

 Here, lost in a strange land, he found some comfort.  

 ***

 Layla’s routine could only work for so long.  One of her brother’s confronted her after breakfast.    

 “A runner came by from the Textile Guild, asking about golden thread.  What’s he talking about?”  

 Layla shrugged.  “Just some spools Uncle Tev sent a couple years ago. I’ve been selling them.”  

 “I thought he sent you empty spools?”  

 She shrugged again, hoping her brothers’ hunger would keep them from questioning more.  

 She should have known better than to go out when her brothers were suspicious.  Though loving, they were fierce.  There was a reason she had never had any suitors from the village, the threat of a dozen brothers, cousins and uncles unleashing their wrath kept them away.  

 As Samuel sipped at his broth the next morning, two arrows flew from the edge of the glade and hit him in the shoulder, going through coat, shirt and skin.  He dropped the pot, nearly missing Layla in the process. Layla spun about and saw three brothers and an uncle running at her, bows drawn.  

 “Layla, get away from that thing!”  

 God, they were thinking wrong.  They were going to kill Samuel.  This shouldn’t be happening.  Layla stood front and center, as if her small body could hid anything of the giant’s.  

 “Stop!” she yelled as another arrow shot over her shoulder.  In an instant, Samuel picked her up with his good hand, holding her to his chest, shielding her from her brothers while he kicked at them.  Samuel was not a fighter, Layla knew as much, and his kicks were about as effective as beating against a wild dog.  

 “No!  Stop it both of you!”  

 “Let go of our sister you freak!”  

 The heartbeat under Samuel’s chest beat wildly, and Layla could feel each beat like thunder against her cheek.  The volley of arrows started again, her brothers dodging Samuel’s foot with ease gained from hunting under the noses of game wardens.  One held out a knife, going for Samuel’s heel, hoping to hobble him by cutting the tendon.  

 “He’s my husband!” she shrieked.  

 Her brothers and Samuel froze at that.  

 After a few beats one brother stepped forward, hesitant.  “Your… husband?”  

 Layla’s mind grasped at straws for something to say.  Her chest clenched.  She hadn’t expected to back up her lies, but her mouth ran faster than her brain.  

 “You were the one that said good deeds might get me a husband.  Well… I guess God heard you and… well.  Here he is.”   She gestured up at Samuel’s slack face.  “Lot of good deeds.  Big husband.”

 Samuel stood still, chest heaving and arrows sticking out of him.  Layla didn’t think the giant capable of lying, of going with the story she had spun in desperation.  But he lifted her higher, cradling her in the curve between collarbone and neck, his face cleared in tired relief.  

 “We were hoping for a fall wedding,” said Samuel.  

 The tension in Layla’s chest melted away.  She pawed her hand up towards Samuel’s face, his cheek rough from his beard, and he lifted her out before him, still cradled in his hand.  Bracing hers arms on either side of his face, she kissed him.  It was soft, unexpected, but she could feel his lips tilt up in a smile.  And they were happy.  

 Her brothers were another matter.  

 “Can he at least hunt?”

I have a ko-fi!

Story originally posted on my deviantart for a fluff contest. ^_^