#also: please consider this my open love declaration to all you incredible people who have supported and encouraged this silly fic

[singsweetmelodies]

@ everyone who follows me for the fake dating au

eight thousand words later and we are finally ready to go ❤️❗

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #17:

Ian Matthews' If You Saw Thro' My Eyes

I had big plans for this weekend's post. My famous brother has been jawing of late about how I will kneel in perpetual penance before Stephen Stills' altar of jock rock greatness the moment I listen to a Manassas record and I will then declare Stills a rock and roll god. One would think my brother is famous for devilry and nonsense.

Indeed, so confident am I that Stills will forever suck that earlier this week I got down on the weathered floor of my local dollar bin (they know what they're doing in my local shop: all of Stills' records are relegated to a neglected, ground level cardboard box, while The Incredible String Band section towers at chest height over Stephen's treasure chest of trash) and hauled out their cheapest copy of Manassas's debut double album (there were plenty of copies to choose from; no one wants to own Stephen Stills records).

My grand plan was to spend a glorious Friday afternoon playing a drinking game of my own invention wherein I'd drink every time I heard a note that did not suck in Manassas's monster ode to mediocrity and I'd admit to each chug in print. I had no fears about a hangover heading into this adventure; I knew I'd emerge stone cold sober.

Fair Reader, I extend to you my sincerest apologies. You'll simply have to wait, with baited breath, for that future entry. The truth is that moments after gleefully cracking open a cold one and dropping the needle on Side 1 of Stills' pretentious piece of pomposity I heard Stephen open his crack (I honestly could not tell which it was, face or ass) and realized I did not have the spirit for it.

Simply put, the very real terror being inflicted upon our fellow humans in Gaza and Israel makes the musical terror Stills inflicts upon us both unfunny and utterly incidental. Please join me in praying for the safety of all innocent people now living in war zones, most especially the children in harm's way.

So, at least for now, I propose that we put off any further pulverization of the guy who thought it was a great idea to name his new band after the Confederacy's first and greatest victory in the Civil War.

Instead, let's consider some fragile and largely unappreciated beauty by spending time on Ian Matthews' first and greatest solo record, If You Saw Thro' My Eyes.

Nick Drake and Sandy Denny both hold and deserve sainted status in the history of popular song. Almost 50 years after their tragic deaths they remain the yin and yang of cosmic British folk music, their all too brief careers forever marking them as the only true peers we have to Neil Young and Joni Mitchell. Of course all four artists owe a heavy debt to Dylan, but each was also consistently capable of creating something Dylan, for all his greatness, has often chased after fruitlessly: beauty.

A consummate recognizer of genius, Joe Boyd saw Sandy Denny sharing the stage with Matthews in Fairport Convention in 69 and understood all of this. So he decided that Ian Matthews needed to take a hike. Denny and her almost equally talented bandmate, Richard Thompson, both loved Matthews but agreed with Boyd; so Matthews got his walking papers, leaving Sandy gloriously alone before the microphone.

Everybody knows the more famous version of this story: George Harrison similarly traded in his forever bronze medal in The Beatles then went on to make the truly Olympian All Things Must Pass.

But Matthews story is a bit more complicated. Rather than settling down and producing a masterpiece, Matthews acted like a restless, slightly panicked (but still quite handsome!) toad, jumping from scheme to scheme. Between 69 and 74 he founded two entirely separate bands (Matthews Southern Comfort and Plainsong) and put out 7 (!) albums. All are Dollar Bin winners, but only one, 71's curiously spelled If You Saw Thro' My Eyes, is transcendent art.

So let's talk about it!

A good introduction is the album's second track, Hearts.

Matthews is not considered a songwriting genius; after this record he increasingly turned to covering other artists. But here he shows early equal promise to Young; indeed it's great to listen to Hearts alongside Young's equally tender track Birds, which was recorded just a year earlier. Both songs portray young men setting aside the bruising and dumb elements of their assigned and culturally dominent gender; indeed it's hilarious to compare these songs' equally androginus yearnings with the way an artist like Young was marketed at the time. Just look at the image below.

All he needs is a bullwhip, a fedora and a groveling look of worship from the babe on his hip to complete the image. But there's no macho macho man to be found in either of these lovely songs, and the gesture is missing from every note of If You Saw Thro' My Eyes.

Even so, there are plenty of men making music on this record and they all shred. That's none other than Richard Thompson you hear bubbling and bending on lead guitar all the way through Hearts, and he is a full contributor throughout the record, lending his unmistakable tone and gesture in ways that are frankly more successful than his contributions to Drake's first two records. Richard may have given Matthews the boot, but the two guys still literally lived together in the same house and clearly understood one another's gifts.

And then there's Keith Tippett. My famous brother will now crawl out from under his Stills' shaped rock of shame to shake his fist at me in exasperation when I admit that I know nothing about this guy. But he's clearly some kind of genius. Listen to his quavering, elemental piano work alongside Thompson's guitar on Never Ending.

Seriously, why did the 74 zillion people buy Tea For the Tillerman then skip on this record?

And that's none other than Sandy Denny playing the harmonium behind Thompson and Tippett. While in Fairport together, Denny and Matthews either traded off vocals masterfully, as in the band's version of Suzanne, harmonized conventionally around one another or stood to one side altogether while the other sang.

But on this album's title track, If You Saw Thro' My Eyes, they finally learn to lean in together. Like lovers, friends or even enemies, they perch on the opposite banks of some terrible chasm, reaching out palm to palm over the breach to hold one another up. High above turbulent seas we listen as they leave the land and soar away, taking us with them.

I hope all of you are safe, and I hope you can find some way to reach out in love and peace to someone else this weekend. Even if it's Stephen Stills.

[violetosprey]

What kind of mental disorders do yanderes have?

Hello there. Interesting question, but an honest one I think. We’re talking about a character type after all that is strictly defined by abnormal or excessive behavior.

To give you a short and sweet answer: I personally believe it’s not a good idea to associate specific mental disorders with yanderes. The only definite one that would be okay to say a yandere COULD have (but not always) is “Erotomania.” If you don’t mind a wall of text, you can read below a little bit about what Erotomania is and why I don’t think fictional media does (or should) make it very clear at times what mental disorders may be associated with yanderes.

Before I start: I am not a psychologist. It’s a subject that’s always interested me, but I certainly don’t have a vast knowledge of even the most common types of mental disorders. Not to mention, many of them have different variations of the same type. If I’m not careful, I could very easily confuse one for another.

So getting a question like this is intriguing but hard for me because I simply don’t have the knowledge to even consider constructing a possible list.

The only disorder that immediately popped into my head is one I happened to have found out about a few years ago. Erotomania, according to Wikipedia, is a “delusional disorder where an individual believes that another person is infatuated with them (when they’re not).” So they think they’re S/O is in love with them, when the reality is that that said S/O may not even know the afflicted person even exists.

It’s not as simple as the afflicted person receiving “mixed signals” that could be confused as flirting in a conversation either. No, this is the type of delusional disorder where even the most basic or mundane things the S/O does will be interrupted as a “secret message” to the afflicted person. For example, the S/O opening or closing their house windows at a certain time of day might be viewed as a declaration of love to the afflicted person. I feel people could read the Wikipedia article themselves to get the full gist, but in real life this seems to be a disorder people tend to develop more often towards celebrities or just people that are more likely unobtainable for them. It even mentions the attempted assassination on Ronald Reagan was committed by someone suffering from Erotomania. It was a weird and very terrifying attempt to impress another celebrity.

This is the only disorder I’m okay saying a yandere COULD be suffering from because it’s specifically about infatuation. Not all mental disorders are focused around that. There’s also technically an “Obsessive love disorder” by the way. That’s…pretty self-explanatory I think. It just seems to be a bit more of a subset disorder than even Erotomania from what I can tell.

My main focus here is on fictional yanderes though. So could you have a yandere character written who is afflicted with Erotomania? Absolutely! It would definitely fall into the “delusional yandere” category, but please keep in mind that depending on how the character is written, not all delusional yanderes would necessarily have Erotomania.

Speaking of fictional yanderes, did anyone notice when it comes to webcomics, manga, anime and light novel media, it’s INCREDIBLY rare for any specific mental disorder to be outright stated regarding the character? I think this is done on purpose for a couple of reasons.

The creator may simply lack the knowledge of various mental disorders.

The selected mental disorder may limit the yandere character’s actions (if going for realism).

There’s the risk of falsely portraying a selected mental disorder.

The portrayal could cause the viewer to develop a very negative association with the disorder in real life.

First one is pretty self-explanatory: If you don’t know enough about mental disorders, it’s smarter to just be vague about the subject altogether in one’s works. If you do know enough about the disorder and go for realism, then you could run into the problem where the character might be restricted as to what actions they’ll perform. I don’t have good examples for this, but perhaps if the disorder is highly linked to paranoia or anxiety, it could be more difficult for example to have the yandere appear more cool and calculated at times.

Attempting to stretch the truth a little though and allow the yandere to think or act in ways that don’t line up with a mental disorder could get criticized. Attempting to remove certain handicaps of a mental disorder from a yandere could make the audience wonder why the creator even bothered to focus on the selected disorder. On the other hand, turning some factors of the disorder up to eleven so to speak, may also paint real life people with said disorder in a much more negative light than needed.

Think of how the movie “Jaws” caused a widespread fear of sharks after its release. Yes, sharks can very dangerous and you shouldn’t mess with them, but attacks on humans really don’t happen a lot either. It damaged the reputation of sharks, and the same could happen to mental disorders in fictional media. Mental disorders in fictional media can be tricky to portray accurately. There are definitely some that have a very ugly reality to them. I say this as someone with loved ones who have unfortunately been afflicted by some of the worst aspects of certain disorders. It can be terrifying and heartbreaking. But having a mental disorder also doesn’t necessarily make someone a bad guy (like a yandere will often be portrayed). It really depends on a lot of factors (like the type of disorder and level of severity in a person). Some mental disorders may also be more manageable or harmless to other people than others.

Non-yandere related, you have films for example like “Split.” I really liked the film and multiple personality disorder is definitely something that’s very interesting (and sounds like a nightmare to live with), but I couldn’t tell you if the film portrayed the disorder well. I’ve heard some people say yes and others say no. Hopefully the film also didn’t convince people that anyone with said disorder is a danger.  I’m sure there are some cases where it could turn out bad in real life, but not always. I think in the webcomic “My Deepest Secret,” the author specifically states in one chapter that one of the main characters is not suffering from any specific REAL mental disorder. I think this was very smart of them to avoid the complications I listed above. If you’ve read the comic, I think you’d definitely agree that if a specific mental disorder was assigned to said character, there could have ended up being a lot more criticism and confusion on how the character acted in the end. Said character had a LOT going on with their head.

Really, I think the fictional media most likely to try to assign a specific mental disorder to a yandere would be anything live action. In the film “Fatal Attraction,” the character of Alex Forrest I believe is hinted to suffer from a form of Borderline Personality Disorder. This would help to explain how the successful and rather cool headed woman you see at the beginning of the film deteriorates slowly over the course of the story. I couldn’t tell you why live action might try to do this more often than other fictional media. I’ve enjoyed shows like Criminal Minds though, so maybe it’s just that with live action, people get more sucked in if they get a better look into the psychology of the characters.

Does that mean I want that kind of same psychological analysis for yanderes in the majority of fictional media? Honestly…not really. I kind of like the separation where it’s never explicitly stated what mental disorder a yandere has…or if they even have one at all. Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE seeing how the gears turn in a yandere’s head, but I don’t think I necessarily need or want the restrictions of a mental disorder placed on a lot of the yanderes I look at. I like it if a yandere can surprise me. I can definitely see other characters simply calling the yandere “insane,” and that’s a good enough for me. Some stories aren’t long enough either to go into the specifics of a disorder anyway.

Despite me saying that, could you still give a yandere a mental disorder if you wanted to? Sure. The mental disorder could either be the cause of their obsessive love, or if it’s not the cause, it could exacerbate some of the symptoms of obsessive love. A disorder based around paranoia or anxiety might do the trick. Or the mental disorder could be a completely separate factor altogether. If I think of yandere who also has OCD, ironically the first thing that pops into my head is just a yandere who happens to be a germaphobe, haha. Despite it being called “obsessive compulsive disorder,” I could see it being something entirely separate rather than a cause of obsessive love. I’m not a creative writer, so sadly I have no good advice to give on how to tackle trying to combine the character archetype with a known psychological disorder. Just be mindful of #1-4 that I listed above. Sorry if this seemed a little confusing. I just wrote everything down as I thought of it. My apologies if anything came off as offensive. Again, I try to stick to think of mostly fictional yanderes, but this subject could bleed into people’s views on a real life yanderes. So it’s best to be careful.

[fangirlings-things]

Rescheduled Lesson

❦ PART. II

Fandom: Enola Holmes

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x female reader

Word count: 3K

anon said: Can I request a Sherlock x reader where she visited Enola often when Sherlock left on long cases, so they became good friends? And when Enola runs away to find her mom, she goes to stay with the reader, which Sherlock deduces and tries to get her to let him find Enola and talk to her? -&

A/N: this request was amazing and I loved every bit of it!!! I put all my inspiration in this, tried to make the personality of the character good, so I hope you like this piece, love, I did my best!! (also I’m thinking about a part 2? if you guys like it let me know, I would be delighted to write it) (had to repost guys, I'm sorry!!)

also, the tag list for this fandom is open!!!

gif credit: @henrycavilledits

❧ You knew the Holmes family was nothing like the other families that lived in the countryside. The father had died many years before. The two oldest sons had already left home, to live their lives and follow the careers they desired. On that incredibly big house, where once lived a family, there was only a mother and her youngest child left. Perhaps the fact that you yourself was considered a little off by other people, was the fact that made you become friends with them.

You lived completely alone, surrounded by books in a small house. Your life was made of studying, researching and writing texts about science. You loved it, great authors of the matter being your inspiration. You tried to learn their teachings and with luck, wanted others to learn as well. You almost couldn’t believe when one day in the middle of a sunny afternoon, Eudoria Holmes had showed up at your door and invited you to her house, where she asked you to be Enola’s science teacher. She educated her daughter not for society, but for herself, so that she could find her own path when she came to grow up. That instantly made you respect that woman and accept her offer.

Twice a week you would go to the Holmes’s house and spend hours and more hours teaching the girl. Darwin, Copernicus, Newton, Galilei. She was eager to know and you were eager to teach her. She was the first student you had that actually wanted to learn and that was amazing. Made you proud and happy, more than you could say. At the evening, Eudoria would ask you to stay for dinner. You would put lessons aside and talk and laugh together. They were like your family, the one you didn’t had.

You were always excited for the days of teaching Enola to come soon. They were your absolute favorites of the week. In the beginning of the afternoon of one of those days, you had been incredibly surprised by a knock on your front door while you gathered the books you would make the girl read and study. Frowning, because you never had visitors or received letters, you went to attend the door.

And when you opened it, you saw that your visitor was Enola herself.

“Hi, Miss (Y/L/N)” the girl smiled at you, a little forced smile that instantly made your frown grow deeper. She was wearing boy’s clothes, even a hat, and her long brown hair had been hidden inside of it. “I’m afraid today’s lesson will have to be rescheduled”

“Enola, what…” you began, confused. You had seen her dressed in boy’s clothes before around her house, that wasn’t a big deal. She did find them more comfortable, she had told you before. But the fact that she concealed her hair as if she wanted to hide it and the expression on her face, something that you couldn’t quite identify but resembled urgency, was enough for you to get anxious.

“Please, Miss (Y/L/N), can I come in? I promise I’ll explain everything you want to know” she pleaded, eyes locked on yours as she did so. The tone on her voice made you nod and take a step to the side, locking the door once she was already inside. “I had never been here. Your house is really amazing” the girl seemed overwhelmed by all the books and unfinished texts you had around, laying on tables and shelves.

“Thank you” you said, mind still running fast as you tried to understand what was happening. You walked after the girl, that had advanced until she reached the next room of your house, one who only had two couches and a table. “Enola, what is going on?” her face instantly lost the admiration she was having for your belongings. Her eyes went to the floor, and she went silent. That made you sight. “Enola, you promise you would explain. And you know you can trust me”

That seemed to make her come around, because she sighted as you had just did and sat at one of your couches. Or better, she laid down on it, placing her head over a pillow and focusing her eyes on the roof. Her hands were joined over her chest. “I came here because I wanted to hide, Miss (Y/L/N). I’m running away”

Your eyes went wide at that declaration and you sat on the other couch, realizing that would probably be a long conversation. “Enola! Think about your mother! She loves you. Your disappearance will hurt her deeply”

“No, no, I’m not running away from my mother. I’m running away to find her” the girl sat straight on the couch, eyes meeting yours again like they had before at the door. She could see the confusion in your eyes grow by each word she spoke. “My mother went missing a few days ago, Miss (Y/L/N). She didn’t say goodbye or said where she was going. She only left me clues, here and there that I’ll have to use to find her”

Worry got a hold of you, the same worry you had recognized on Enola’s eyes. Eudoria. Where would she have gone? Was she fine? Not knowing you realized, was terrible. As you thought about what Enola had just said, another question got to your mind. “If your mother is missing, who are you running away from, Enola?”

“My brothers. Sherlock and Mycroft. Well, especially Mycroft, because he wants to send me to a finishing school, that prepares young women for society” the clear disgust in her voice would have made you laugh if you weren’t so worried.

“Where will you go to find your mother, Enola? What plans do you have? Do you want me to go with you?” all questions left your mouth in such a rush, that it seemed like you had just spit out the words one after the other.

The young girl smiled kindly and got up, going to sit right next to you on the couch you were on. She grabbed your hands in hers gently and squeezed them tightly. “Thank you for offering to go with me, to support me, Miss (Y/L/N). Is more than my own brothers have done. But this is something I have to do alone, I have to be the one to find her and know why she left. And I think that the less you know, the better it will be”

Oh, that girl. You smiled while you looked at her. Eudoria had raised her to be a force of nature and had achieved that goal, brilliantly. You squeezed her hands back in affection. “When will you leave?”

“At sundown today” she said, so quickly that you realized she had already thought about everything. At least, on that phase of that 'plan' to find her dear mother. “Will walk to the train station, not the closest one but the next, and get on the first train in the morning tomorrow. In this way, I’m quite sure my brothers won’t be able to understand my intentions soon enough as to catch me”

“Very well” you passed your arms around her and hugged her tight, sighting. “Let’s get you some food for your journey, then. If you find Eudoria and she finds out I let you almost starve I’ll get in trouble”

Enola laughed as she hugged you back.

════ •⊰❂⊱• ═══════ •⊰❂⊱• ════

Enola had left at sundown of the previous day, just like she had said she would. Carrying nothing more than money her mother had left her, a bag of food you had given her and her favorite book of yours, Origin of Species, you had watched her walk away into the night alone, as her name backwards spelled.

You had spent the whole night incapable of sleeping, wondering if she was fine and if she hadn’t encountered any dangers as she travelled on foot. You worried so much but all you could do, was hope that she would stay safe and find her mother. Soon.

On the next day, you had spent the morning and the beginning of the afternoon distracted. Tried to complete some of your works, but couldn’t. Your mind would always go back to the gone girl and her well being.

You had frustratedly been trying to read the same page of one of your books for fifteen minutes, without being capable of keeping any attention on it, when for the second time in a long time, you heard knocks at the front door.

You got up instantly, leaving the book forgotten upon the closest table as you rushed to the door, already smiling at the thought at Enola had came around on her idea of going alone and was back to ask you to go with her.

When you opened the door though, you realized that it wasn’t Enola who had knocked. It had been a man. A man you had never seen before.

He was tall, it was the first thing you noticed. The fact that he had no beard, was the second. And then, details of him came rushing into your mind through your eyes. He had short, curly hair, bright eyes and memorable features. He wore a white shirt, a brown vest with small white details in it and a brown suit as well as trousers of the same color. No tie which was insula for men that well dressed.

“May I help you?” you frowned at him, holding the wooden door firmly with one of your hands. To receive the visit of men, had always made you nervous. You lived alone, after all, and the world was becoming a more violent place day by day.

“I hope so” he said, which such confidence on his voice that it actually made you raise your eyebrows at him. His eyes were fixed in you, analyzing your face with much intensity. Far more than you thought it would be appropriate. “I’m Sherlock Holmes. And I suppose you are Miss (Y/L/N), my sister’s science teacher”

You took a moment to watch him again, trying to put into your mind that the man in front of you was the Sherlock Holmes, the detective who was making a name on England, solving the most incredible and difficult cases on his own. After long seconds of silence where you only stared at each other, you cleaned your throat. “I am in fact Enola’s teacher, Mr. Holmes. How did you know?”

“I found her works, studies on great science authors. They all had writings on the borders where she constantly mentioned a desire to please and make a 'Miss (Y/L/N)' proud. It only took me a visit to one of the closest houses to ask who it was and get pointed in your house’s direction” he explained, in an impersonal tone quite fitting to a detective. He saw the incisive tone look you were giving him, filled with suspicion, and smiled slightly as he looked at his feet, before focusing his eyes back on yours. “I came here because Enola ran away from home, Miss (Y/L/N). And I think she would come here to see you if she needed help”

You sighted, looking into his eyes. You remembered Enola’s words, where she had told you Mycroft was the one who wanted to send her to a finishing school, the one who had made her run away. If that had been Mycroft Holmes at your door, you would have denied being her teacher or even knowing the girl, wanting to cut the conversation short. But that was Sherlock Holmes. Enola hadn’t expressed much anger towards him and honestly, he would for sure find out the truth on his own. He was the best detective there was in the nowadays. You tell him, would just spin faster the process and you would be able to send him away sooner.

“Come in, Mr. Holmes” you took a step aside, motioning for him to come in. He did, in slow calculated steps and once he was inside you closed the door, sighting. You expected him to say something, but he didn’t. Not at first. Instead he walked around just like Enola had done, eyes floating through the uncountable books you had, all in a complete mess over the tables, piles and more piles of them . “She was indeed here, your sister”

He turned his head to look at you, a genuine smile on his lips. “I was already certain of that” then he walked towards one of the tables, fingers running through one of works. The paper was a bit kneaded, but he didn’t seem to care. “The works you did with Enola, the amount of things she learned… they were quite impressive”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to contain your surprise to know you had impressed the most impressive man of all, Sherlock Holmes. You waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t, just kept on walking through the room and inspecting your things with his perceptive eyes. “I don’t know where she is, Mr. Holmes. She left many hours ago”

He placed his hands on the pockets of his trousers, turning completely to you the resemblance of his previous smile on his lips. “And I believe she didn’t tell you what were her plans?”

“No and if she had, I wouldn’t tell you” you said and went to sit on a chair, at the table he had been studying with his eyes previously.

“Mind if I take off my suit?” he asked simply. You just nodded for him to go on, not giving it much thought. He took off his brown suit in gracious movements, then placed it in one of the other empty chairs close by. “May I ask why you wouldn’t tell me my sister’s plans, Miss (Y/L/N), if you knew them?”

“Enola said your brother wants to send her to a finishing school” you replied, watching as one after the other, he folded the sleeves of his white shirt until they got close to his elbow. Unconsciously, you noticed how his muscles could be seen from under his shirt. “To try to turn such a brilliant, incredibly smart young girl into a 'lady society' would be a terrible mistake. She shouldn’t be forced to do it” at the end of that sentence, Sherlock Holmes had grabbed two books in his hands and after reading the tiles, he went to the shelves and started placing them there. “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I am organizing your books, Miss (Y/L/N). In alphabetical order, of course. Like I’ve noticed you do after a quick inspection” he smiled at you again, placing those two in place. Then, he went to the table and grabbed a few more. “I personally agree with you. I don’t think Enola should be sent to such a place, but she is my brother’s ward. It is out of my hands” he read the titles, then turned around to return to the shelves. “I suppose you weren’t raised as a lady of society also, for you live by yourself apparently and your academic interests”

“You’re wrong” you said with a little smile taking a hold of your lips, and that made him stop organizing the books and look at you with a frown. She shouldn’t be wrong often. “I was raised to be a lady, until the point where my parents died. After that, I started to live on my own, for I had no more relatives. It gave me a chance to become who I wanted to be, instead of whom I was being carved into”

“You chose your own path” he said with a bigger smile this time and when you nodded in agreement, he returned his look at the shelves. “How did your parents die?”

“They were murdered” you tried to swallow the knot on your throat. Even though they had been controlling parents to the most when regarding your future, they were still your parents, and you loved and missed them. “The police never found out by whom”

“The police can be quite… inefficient” he turned back around with his hands already empty. “I’m really sorry”

“Thank you” you said, squeezing your lips in a thin line as old memories came to surface. Things you hadn’t you thought about in a long, long time. “If there isn’t anything else, may I escort you to the door?”

Your polite way of sending him away made him smile.

He placed the books he had just gathered back on the table, grabbed his suit and accompanied you towards the door, not bothering to dress the piece again. You opened the door and he stepped out, turning to look at you once more. His eyes were curious, interesting. Full of something you couldn’t quite identify, so mysterious as his sister’s.

“If you find Enola, don’t stop her from trying to find your mother” you told him, trying to repress the emotion in your voice. “Not knowing what happened… can be quite disturbing”

“I promise, stop her, is not my intention” he looked down at his feet once again, as if he was thinking for a brief moment, before his eyes went back to yours. “I could try to find out what happened to your parents. Who was their murderer”

“I don’t have much money, Mr. Holmes” you told him, your turn now to look down at your feet.

“I never said you would have to pay” he replied and with that your gaze snapped back up to meet his, and that made him chuckle. You couldn’t deny he looked quite beautiful when doing that. “You were there for my sister through much time and when she needed help, when I wasn’t. That is enough paying for me. Think about it, Miss (Y/L/N). After I find my sister and discover where is my mother, I am willing to take over your case. If you want me to” he nodded his head in your direction in a silent appreciation for your reception in your house and began to turn to walk away, but stopped himself in the middle of such movement. “May I know your first name?”

You smiled softly at that. “It’s (Y/N), Mr. Holmes”

“Please, call me Sherlock”

And after that, he walked away.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Trick or Treat

The next A Very Bouncey Halloween installment and a belated birthday gift to my darling @veritasrose. Thank you so much for the last year of friendship, I look forward to celebrating with you again. <3 you are much loved.

tw: curses, Geralt is an idiot, competent Jaskier

---

Light flashes through the room and momentarily blinds Jaskier, who stumbles back against Geralt. He mumbles an apology to the ever-sturdy Witcher as he waits for his vision to return and when he blinks clearly for the first time after a few long moments, the bard feels utterly and totally confused by the scene unfolding before him.

The Duke’s grandest ballroom, which had been bustling with excitable party guests only moments ago, is now flooded with ghouls, ghosts, vampires, and monsters of all sorts. A woman with swan’s wings is huddled in one corner, squawking angrily at anyone who tries to draw near. A minotaur stumbles through the center of the dance floor, lowing in frustration as he tries to control his bulky limbs. Two werewolves wrestle for dominance atop the furthest banquet table to their left. As Jaskier takes it all in, he feels Geralt’s hands wrap suddenly around his bicep; the Witcher is clinging to Jaskier fiercely, leaning his not insignificant weight against the bard’s side as his eyes grow round and watery.

“What’s happening?” Geralt finally asks. His tone of voice seems breathy and high, filled with a terror - almost totally foreign to Jaskier’s ears. Geralt fears nothing and yet… “Let’s get away from this dreadful place, please!”

“Aren’t you going to try and solve this problem?” Jaskier asks, glancing at his companion. He gestures at the various monsters roaming freely past the buffet table. “You’re likely the nearest Witcher, after all.”

“I’m no Witcher,” Geralt declares. He splays a hand over the very center of his blue velvet doublet (a nearly perfect imitation of the way Jaskier reacts to a perceived offense). “I am a Count. Witchers are dirty things, not meant for such a public life as my own.”

“For fuck’s sake, Geralt, now is not the time for a prank of this nature,” Jaskier huffs. “Something is clearly going on here. We need to help these people!”

“I know something is wrong,” Geralt sniffles - fucking sniffles - and squeezes the bard’s upper arm even more tightly. The sound of Geralt crying shakes Jaskier into understanding, even as Geralt begs: “But I don’t know how to help! Please get me out of here, Milord, I’m scared.”

Milord? Jaskier mouths to himself, even as he wraps one comforting arm around Geralt’s waist and ushers him away from the growing chaos at the center of the ballroom. Jaskier hurries them down one suspiciously empty hallway after another until he reaches the small suite that he had accepted as payment for his performance at the party. Jaskier ushers Geralt inside and locks the heavy oak door behind them.

“My Lord Geralt,” he gets the not-quite-Witcher’s attention. “Do you mind taking a seat by the fire for now? I’ll be right with you as soon as the room is secure, and then we can figure out what’s going on and what to do from here.”

“Yes, Milord,” Geralt nods. He hurries to comply with Jaskier’s request, to the bard’s continuing shock and awe, and stays still and quiet as Jaskier removes his doublet and rolls up his sleeves. Using the strength he’s spent twelve years at Geralt’s side developing, Jaskier shoves a bookcase, a dresser, and an unfortunately designed roll-top desk in front of the locked doors for added protection.

Moving behind Geralt with practiced efficiency, Jaskier also closes, shutters, and locks every window in the room, pulling the curtains closed to keep any light from spilling out and alerting stray creatures of their presence.

When he’s finished locking down all of their room’s possible entrances and breathing hard from exertion, Jaskier tugs the Witcher’s xenovox from his bag and flips it open, waiting with bated breath until Yennefer’s irritated voice snaps: “What do you want, Geralt?”

“Who is that?!” Geralt cries from his place near the fire. He has a white-knuckle grip on the overstuffed armchair he’s perched in and his clothing is mussed; Jaskier motions for him to be quiet and Geralt bites his lip, worrying the soft pink skin between his unusually dull canines.

“Was that Geralt?” Yennefer asks. "Did Jaskier summon me?"

“Yes and yes,” Jaskier replies. “I think he’s been cursed or enchanted or something. I was hired to play at the Duke of Rinde’s All Hallow’s Eve celebration and Geralt accompanied me - even dressed up for the occasion - but something happened at the party and now he’s acting strangely. I don’t know what to do.”

"What's happening?" Yennefer prods.

"Geralt is acting rather out of sorts. He’s speaking strangely, he wanted to flee the party rather than investigate the source of the changes-”

“What changes?”

“Everyone sort of… Well, a good portion of the party guests suddenly transformed into their costumes,” Jaskier explains, his speech stunted by his disbelief. “I know it sounds incredible, and it was! One moment we were all enjoying the music and the next… there was a minotaur and a mermaid and a faun… Geralt went nearly mute and started clinging to my arm like some sort of aristocratic maiden!”

“Oh shit,” Yen groans.

“Who is that?” Geralt repeats. Jaskier continues to ignore his companion. He knows that the moment he turns his attention to caring for Geralt, he won’t be able to tear it away again, and he needs to finish this conversation with Yennefer first.

“Why are you swearing?” he asks the sorceress. “What is it?”

“Geralt asked me for advice about this stupid ball a few days ago, while you were busy making arrangements with the Duke. He wanted to impress you with his All Hallow’s Eve costume and prove that he could be just as fancy and well-mannered as all the other men of your status.”

“Why in the world would Geralt want to dress up and act like a nobleman? It makes no sense! He detests small talk, he hates vanity, and he finds most men of my station to be cowardly and overly delicate - myself included! I just- I don’t quite understand why he’d go through all of this just to impress me. Or why he thinks this kind of thing would be impressive in the first place.”

“Jaskier, please tell me that you aren’t as stupid as our mutually beloved Witcher…”

Jaskier considers for a moment, pondering the things that he does to impress Geralt: gathering wood, learning to cook with game meat, preparing the Witcher’s potion ingredients while he's out on hunts, organizing their packs when they're spiking camp, brushing Roach’s mane… Realization dawns suddenly and all at once. He has a moment of pure understanding, a moment much beloved by every poet, bard, and playwright across the Continent: “Oh.”

Yennefer gives a tired laugh. “Yeah.”

“So he’s stuck as… a noble?”

“I suppose,” she sighs. “I’ll portal you to my location and we can figure things out in peace. Get your things together, I’ll open it up in precisely five minutes.”

“What’s happening!?” Geralt demands. Jaskier pulls the Witcher/Count to his feet and bows shallowly.

“I am Jaskier Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. I will be your protector and chaperone for the foreseeable future, Your Lordship,” Jaskier bows shallowly. “I’m going to gather our things together and then we are going to meet up with a very lovely sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

Jaskier barely manages to hide his surprise at Geralt’s utter lack of recognition. His memories of Yennefer have also been taken, then.

“She’s a mutual friend.”

“Are you my friend?”

“I would like to think so,” Jaskier smiles. Geralt remains oblivious to the bard’s heartache, even as he curls himself against Jaskier. He tucks his face against Jaskier’s shoulder and sobs quietly. The bard runs his hands comfortingly up and down Geralt’s spine for a long, soothing moment. The smooth, royal-blue velvet tickles his fingertips. “Shh, dear heart. I’ve got you. Everything will be alright, I swear.”

“I trust you,” Geralt whispers.

Just as Jaskier is about to reply, Yennefer’s portal snaps open in the center of the room. Jaskier hands Geralt a set of bags and hauls his own over his shoulder. “Time to go, Your Lordship. Just take one little step…”

---

“Do you know who I am?” Yennefer asks. Geralt shakes his head before burying his face in the back of Jaskier’s shoulder-blade.

“I’m so frightened, Milord.”

Frightened? Milord? Yennefer mouths. Jaskier shrugs nearly imperceptibly and makes a panicked gesture in the Witcher’s general direction.

“I don’t know what to do either!”

“Well, start from the beginning. Tell me what happened at the party before all of… this.”

Jaskier recounts every detail he can remember in the most straightforward way possible, momentarily renouncing his poetic skills in favor of efficiency - for Geralt’s sake, of course, not Yennefer’s. When he's finished he asks: “And you said he did all of this to impress me?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” Jaskier repeats his earlier question. Yennefer understands that his meaning is different; Jaskier understands that Geralt is interested in him romantically, but the bard can't seem to get it through his head that Geralt has deemed him worthy. Although, knowing the Witcher, he isn't even sure how to go about doing such a thing in the first place.

"I just... I don’t quite believe you," he adds.

���He loves you,” Yennefer reiterates. "And now he’s stuck like this until the effects of the spell wear off, so I suggest you take his precious Lordship to one of my spare rooms and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see you both for breakfast, providing the magic is null and void by then.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“I hope you enjoy small talk, you bardic bastard.”

Yennefer smirks and disappears from the room in a whirl of black and white silk, the scents of lilac and gooseberry curling through the air in her wake.

Geralt clings to Jaskier’s bicep again as the exhausted bard stands, keeping his larger body pressed against the human’s side as if Jaskier is the one who wields the Witcher’s swords. “So I’m under a spell?”

“Yes, darling.”

“At least I have you here to protect me, Jaskier. You’re so brave and strong; my hero!”

“It’s usually the other way around, dear heart, but I appreciate the sentiment. Now, how about we find a comfortable place to bed down for the night, Milord?”

"Alright."

Jaskier moves Geralt's hand so that it's curled around the inside of his elbow, the proper etiquette for a platonic escort, and leads him quickly down the long hallways of Yennefer's sprawling manor house. He chooses the blue-themed bedroom at the back of the East Wing, far from the sorceress' own suite of rooms.

He has to help Geralt change out of his lordly costume, the Witcher-turned-Count fumbling uselessly at the laces and buttons as if he'd never seen a fastening before in his life. Geralt whispers shyly as Jaskier pulls a nightshirt over his head: "Thank you again, Milord Jaskier. I feel as if I can't help but continue indebting myself to you."

"Think nothing of it, dear heart," Jaskier smiles, ignoring the pang in his chest. "I am happy to help you."

Jaskier tucks Geralt into bed before changing into his own nightclothes, tossing his things back into their travel bags as he swaps outfits. He feels Geralt tense up when he sits on the edge of the bed and his eyebrows narrow in concern.

"Are you alright, Geralt?"

"Are you going to share a bed with me?"

"Would you rather I didn't?" Jaskier answers with a question of his own.

"I... I wouldn't mind it if we shared."

Jaskier wishes he had Witcher sight, so he could catch a glimpse of the blush no doubt attempting to stain the Witcher's face. Despite the mutagens, Geralt's face still went pale pink when he encountered a strong emotion. It was adorable. And incredibly rare.

As soon as he pulls the covers over his chest, Geralt glues himself to Jaskier's side, snuggling close. "Feels safer," he says in lieu of explanation.

"Goodnight, dear heart."

"Goodnight."

---

"Fuck," Geralt groans, sitting up in bed. Jaskier sits up beside him, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Good morning, Milord," he teases.

"Shut up," Geralt groans. Jaskier does get to see him blush this time, and the bard revels in it; he would trade all the gold in the world to see Geralt flush like this. "I can't believe I cried on you!"

"It was rather adorable, actually."

"Hmm."

"Still..." Jaskier reaches out, tentative, and cups Geralt's cheek with his palm. He turns the Witcher's face and locks their gazes together, blue meeting gold. "Still, I think I prefer you as you are. My big, strong Witcher who cares so much about defending the little guy. Willing to step in and help wherever and whenever he can."

Geralt's eyes get a little glassy and he leans forward, pausing and letting Jaskier make the final decision. The bard meets him halfway, pressing his lips against Geralt's without any sense of urgency at all. It's warm and sweet, time fading away as they let their feelings pour through this one simple gesture. When they pull apart again, Geralt gives a surprised, lopsided smile. "Oh."

[beauty-and-passion]

Silly fun challenge prompt: what languages do you associate with the Sides/what would be the 2nd language each Side learn?

For example I am a big fan of Hispanic (Spanish speaking) Creativitwins fanon. And c! Thomas too could've learnt Spanish in high school and the fact his love interest is hispanic too just makes perfect sense-

And in contrast to Hispanic twins I headcanon Janus as a francophone (French speaking) for two reasons: 1) it was still lingua franca around Victorian era, his aesthetic inspiration and 2) dividing American high school by Spanish class vs. French class is like causing Civil War (I was and still am a language nerd, so I learnt both languages, which was a mistake but the kind of mistake that was worth it when you think about it later)

German suites Logan since lots of famous philosophers are German. I associate Japanese or Korean with Virgil since those two are really dominant in the current subculture world (and maybe our emo could've been inspired and turn into E-boy - wow that sounds terrifying)

I don't have strong preference on Patton's but Italian sounds nice, since all those music and dessert and anything sweet are often from Italy. And maybe 'Orange' can be some language that sounds harsh like Russian, so he can murmur in that in sleep and scares everyone else

I know you're in Europe: 1) you use GMT and 2) Americans wouldn't care about Eurovision. So I wonder how you would think based on your European experience!

Oooh, I like this! As European Who Studied Languages, I definitely approve this and I'll gladly add my two cents about which languages the sides should learn.

_________

Roman: He canonically knows Spanish and that's perfect like that. Spanish is a romantic language, someone speaks Spanish and you can't help but swoon. It’s a great choice for the Side responsible for romance and passion.

_________

Remus: Remus isn't just intrusive thoughts, but there’s a very high chance he’s also responsible for Thomas' sexual urges. So, what is the language made for sex? You’re right, it’s French. French is sexy. You can say anything in French and bam, ✨sexy ✨.

"Je sors la poubelle." Sexy, isn't it? Well, I just said "I'm taking out the trash". See? Very sexy.

(French people, please confirm my words. We all know it’s true)

_________

Janus: Your points are incredibly valid and I love them. But if we should choose among all languages, I would love Janus to be one of the very few (extremely few) people in the world who can speak Latin.

I know Latin is a dead language, but it would be great - and not just because of the connection with his name.

Let’s consider that the other Romance languages, despite evolving from Latin, cannot entirely understand it, because they all changed a lot through the centuries after mixing with the Germanic ones. On the other hand, the Germanic languages (English, German, Swedish and so on) are part of a completely different group, only slightly influenced by Latin, so they cannot understand it.

In other words, Janus would speak a language that only sounds familiar - and maybe you can grasp a couple words here and there if you know a romance language, but the true meaning is hidden. What is he actually saying? Who knows. Is he actually cursing someone? Who knows. After all, do you understand Latin? Yeah, me neither.

If I have to pick a language that is still spoken today instead, I think I'll join you with French. Your points are valid and French is a very elegant language, fitting for Janus’ whole aesthetic. So yes, French could work.

_________

Logan: German is a great choice and you are absolutely right with your point about the philosophers. Also German is a language of harsh sounds and strict grammar rules - for example:

declensions that should be used accordingly for articles, adjectives and nouns

specific verbs for specific meanings

words made by putting together shorter words (like Haustürschlüssel.  Haustür means “front door”, Schlüssel means “key” -> this word means “front door’s key”)

sentences that should follow a specific construction, with parts of the compound verb after the noun and part at the end of the sentence. And secondary phrases also have a specific syntax and should always be introduced by a comma

In other words, it's a very organized language and I think it would fit Logan.

But also, considering that almost all words related to science and philosophy come from Greek, I think Logan should at least understand some Greek. As a treat.

(Also because Greek is another incredibly complicated language, so if someone has the patience to learn it, it’s definitely Logan.)

_________

Virgil: oh my gosh, I never thought about an eastern language for Virgil. In a way, it would be a very peculiar choice and I kinda like it. Japanese and Korean are extremely complicated languages, they have a very specific alphabet (I'm especially thinking about the Japanese one, that even asks for a specific direction to write words) and require a lot of work (and memory) to learn them.

But Virgil is also a poet and when I think of poets and sonnets my first connection is with the french ennui, le mal du vivre and especially Baudelaire and his works. Virgil would appreciate Baudelaire a lot. So French, again.

But hey, there’s too much French now. So I’ll pick the other european literature full of sadness: the russian one.

Russian is supposed to be a big scary language and its alphabet is weird and omg what if they're cursing us? But if you learn it a little bit, you’ll find out that Russian has a lot of soft/open sounds (due to a good use of vowels) and it's very poetic.

So the language itself is a bit like Virgil: he seems scary and evil at a first glance, but if you learn about him, he's actually kinder than he looks.

But never underestimate Russian, because just like Anxiety, fear is just behind the corner: you start learning it and wow, there is just one present tense, one past tense and one future tense? This is great, what a wonderful language!

And then, before you’ll realize it, you will find out that each verb has a “doppelganger” used for entirely different purposes AND there a gazillion verbs of motion and you will end up crying on the floor, because there are just too many verbs - and look, there are also one trillion particles you can put before these verbs and they give them EVEN MORE MEANINGS.

No, this isn't entirely based on my personal experience, what makes you think that.

_________

Patton: I have never thought about Patton learning another language, because English just fits him too well.

But when you proposed Italian... well, my heart just wiped out everything else. There is nothing here, only Patton speaking Italian.

So yes, Patton's second language should be Italian. No, it must be Italian. Because French is the language of sex, Spanish is the language of love, but if you want to declare your eternal love to someone, you use Italian. Do you want to marry someone? Italian. Do you want to tell your significant other how much you adore them? Italian. Italian has one million ways to express love and Patton should use them all with his kiddos.

And yes, Italian is also associated with warm people, warm places and good food, all things Patton deserves and should enjoy. So Italian is a big yes.

_________

Orange: since Orange is a mystery, I am a bit torn between these two languages:

1) Esperanto: This language is amazing, because it isn’t a natural language, born like all others, but it has been built by a man, who wanted to create an universal language in order to foster world peace and international understanding.

So this language has been created to be as simple as possible, with a very regular grammar (unlike all other natural languages) and its words all have references to other language groups (romance, germanic, slavic, indo-europeans, finno-ugric languages and so on).

And if you actually listen to it (especially if you know some latin languages) you will find it weirdly understandable. I found this video in particular and I was impressed by how strangely familiar esperanto sounds.

And... that’s it, I just think it would be kinda poetic that the last side knows a language that all others can use and understand.

2) A Greenlandic language. Why? Because they are insanely polysynthetic.

What does that mean? If in German you can make words by putting together other two/three words (like in the example I used before), in the Greenlandic languages you can build an entire sentence by putting together nouns, verbs, articles and everything else. All together in one single word, whose meaning can be translated with an entire sentence in another language.

Do you want an example? Here is an example from Wikipedia: tuntussuqatarniksaitengqiggtuq.

Yes, this is a word.

This word is from the Yupik language and means "He had not yet said again that he was going to hunt reindeer.". And this word is made of:

tuntu- (= reindeer)

ssur-  (= hunt)

qatar- (future tense)

ni- (= say)

ksaite- (negative)

ngqiggte- (= again)

uq  (3rd.sing.IND)

Is this insane? This is fucking insane. Do you want to be scared? This is real fear. What the heck. How. Why.

You know what? This is perfect for Orange, I’ll leave Esperanto to Thomas. Orange deserves to be this scary. I can already see the other sides quiver before him.

_________

And so, here are my guesses! If someone has other ideas, feel free to add yours and tell us why, so we can all have a nice discussion :D

[nothorses]

This thread on Twitter (also give @Azure_Husky a follow!!)

Linked Article Transcript below

Content warnings for transphobia against transmasculine people, including violence and harassment It's easy to say that transmasculine people get male privilege and face less oppression than many other trans people, but only if you don't actually listen https://m.dailykos.com/stories/2019/8/9/1877651/-There-is-a-hidden-epidemic-of-violence-against-transmasculine-people

I hear pretty constantly from transmasculine people about the violence they face from cis people and the erasure, condescension, and "suck it up, you're the oppressor now" attitudes they get from other trans people. 

We are failing the transmasculine parts of our communities. We are failing our brothers and masculine siblings. We need to get better at listening to transmasculine people's concerns and working together rather than fostering hierarchies of oppression within transness 

Once transness is involved, shit gets complicated. Simple responses of "misandry doesn't exist because men have the power" assume transmasculine people have access to the same privileges as average cis men when frequently they don't. 

One of the saddest things about being someone who talks about this is that i regularly get transmasculine people giving heartfelt thanks for the smallest mentions of their needs & concerns bc they're so used to transfeminine people ignoring their existence or being antagonistic 

We need to do better. I refuse for some of us trans people to base our fights for equality and justice by stepping on the needs of other trans people. 

I see transfeminine people I care about and respect who will sometimes share "let's make a world without men" type things and like I have had these feelings too, I struggle under misogyny and have a bunch of bad experiences with (cis, especially but not exclusively) men. *and*- 

- i've seen too many of my transmasculine siblings' hurt as they are constantly lumped into "just as bad as cis men" baskets (which I also have feelings about but is a larger topic I think) & have heard from too many transmasculine people who have spent years in denial bc of this 

I've heard from too many transmasculine people who have put off transitioning, tried to avoid accepting their gender, because they internalized the constant stream of this shit. And I love trans people too fucking much to keep letting it go. 

I get that for many of our communities there can be some incredible trauma around masculinity, either because it was enforced on us against our will or due to violence and/or sexual assault. And i don't debate the validity of that trauma. 

And also we can't extrapolate our trauma into "this segment of trans people, by virtue of their gender, is worth less (or worthless)". 

I mean if we want to dig into it, a lot of us transfeminine people get attacked by transphobes under the auspices of trauma regarding specific genitals or gender expressions or body types. And most of us can agree that their trauma doesn't mean they get to denigrate us. 

Honestly I'm tired. And also I acknowledge that my tiredness about this cannot be even a mild fraction of the exhaustion of the trans people targeted and erased by this must be. 

So I'm calling on y'all and asking you to please do better by *all* trans people. I get the joy and relief in venting about men. I do. We live in a misogynistic society and a lot of us suffer under the hands of a specific gender and sometimes we need an outlet. 

But at the very least please be aware of when your venting is in a public space where it *is* going to harm and affect others, and specifically other trans people (since I don't have the spoons to get into a larger discussion about cis men currently) 

Know that every time we make vent-jokes (or not jokes) about how everyone who is masculine is worthless to us, we are directly damaging other trans people, and possibly painfully forcing some to deny themselves or stay closeted because who would want to become The Enemy, right? 

And I feel like I *have* to keep talking about this because if transmasc people stick up for themselves, I see how often they get shot down as just another "not all men" concern troll or like they're trying to talk over feminine people 

Hell I've seen threads where a transmasc person starts the thread to talk about transmasc issues and *still* people have declared it derailing or speaking over others. How do we address their oppression if they aren't allowed to discuss it anywhere? 

So as a transfeminine person I've got allyship privilege here where I may be condemned as having internalized misogyny or being an assimilationist or something but at least I can't be seen as just another dude talking over women

(i use the binary language there thoughtfully bc a lot of these Us vs Them dichotomies tend to erase nonbinary people or pretend that all nonbinary people are centre or feminine of centre on the gender spectrum) 

Just. Do better. Please. Like. Just listen to transmasculine people with an open heart for a bit and hear the intense transphobia and discrimination they also face and consider the impact of your words on them. 

It sucks to see people who are generally caring and thoughtful about many types of oppression just.. Let it all go when a chance to lump transmasc people in with The Enemy comes up. 

Addendum: I've had a couple people express concern that I'm saying that transfeminine people shouldn't address when they are facing transmisogyny from transmasculine people and I hope that it is clear that isn't what I am saying at all. 

Transmasculine people can be transmisogynistic, absolutely! I've had experiences with that too. What this thread is about is the fact that for *some* people, transmasculine people as a whole are considered less marginalized by dint of their masculinity and it isn't that simple. 

So saying broad statements about transmasculine people isn't "punching up". Its horizontal violence if it's coming from other trans people or can be punching down if it's coming from cis people. That is what this thread is meant to address. 

By all means we should be discussing and addressing transmisogyny. But transmasculine people discussing the specifics of their own concerns isn't in and of itself transmisogyny. We do no one any favours by trying to silence that. 

This thread isn't about transfeminine people never speaking ill of transmasculine people or vice versa. Its about calling-in a specific subset of transfeminine communities for treating transmasculine people as a whole as disposable and The Enemy.

[attllhak]

I 100% blame @kagrenacs entirely for this. This is your fault. You gave me Ideas.

Also, @tortilla-of-courage I promised I’d tag you in this. Here’s that crack fic I talked about where Mario is Malon’s step-father.

Behold, a crack fic.

----------------------

Link had been dating Malon officially for about three months when the letter came.

Link had arrived at the ranch about the same time as the postman left, having just got back home from another adventure trying to help clear out a temple that had been invaded by monsters that the regular soldiers were struggling with. He went so Sheik wouldn’t, as apparently Zelda was needed at the castle for something else.

Malon was waving goodbye at the postman as Link and Epona trotted up, the boy leaning to the side of the saddle to blink at his girlfriend.

Epona snorted and nudged Malon’s head to get her attention.

“Oh what, Epona!” Malon laughed, reaching up to stroke her hand along the mare’s face. “And that means,”

Link waved at her with a smile.

“Link!” Malon grinned, coming around Epona’s side to meet him. “You’re home!”

Link nodded as he leaned down to kiss her hello, feeling much better now that he was back at the ranch, even if he was still bruised and achy and very possibly bleeding. Malon almost made him feel the way the forest did, like he was home.

He swung over and dismounted the horse, smiling as Malon pulled him into a hug.

Malon then pushed him away and spun him around. Link was confused for about one second before,

“Are you bleeding?”

Link shrugged, not entirely sure himself.

Malon made a strangled noise and then she was dragging him inside. “Honestly, Link. What part of ‘be careful’ do you not understand? You know, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show up here bleeding sometimes,”

Link just smiled at the back of her head, not affected by her berating in the least. She’d lectured him on this before, and would do so again in the future, and he knew she wasn’t as mad as she pretended to be. At this point her yelling was as much standard fare as her patching him up was.

Link hopped up to sit on the kitchen table, watching as Malon dropped the letter on the table next to him before digging out the first aid kit she kept stocked in the room.

In lieu of anything else to look at, Link glanced down at the letter next to him. There was a red seal on the back, not dissimilar to the ones Zelda used when writing letters, though instead of the Hylian crest this seal had the image of a mushroom on it. Flipping it over saw words in neat curling letters in an alphabet Link didn’t recognize. This wasn’t surprising, as up until a year or so ago he still struggled with written Hylian. He set the letter down when he heard a door open in a different part of the house.

“Malon!” Talon shouted through the house. “Did you know Epona was out front? I thought Link had taken her,” he stopped when he turned into the kitchen and saw his daughter standing up with a first aid kit and the mentioned adventurer on his table. Link waved. “Link! You’re back!”

Link nodded, smiling at Talon as Malon opened the first aid kit on the table and started sorting through the contents.

“Link just got back a minute ago,” Malon informed her father as she had Link pull off his tunic. “He’s bleeding still, so I’m going to patch him up before he fills us in on his latest adventure,” she paused, then picked up the letter that she’d received when Link arrived. “Oh, and we got a letter from mom,”

She handed over the letter to her dad, Link watching the paper with curiosity. Malon’s mother? She’d never mentioned her mother to him before, and he’d never pried. He assumed her mother was dead, since she wasn’t around and no one talked about her, but he was also pretty sure dead people didn’t send letters. Pretty sure, not totally sure. Considering what he’d already seen on his adventures, he wasn’t ruling it out as a possibility.

Talon grumbled as he opened it, Malon pulling Link’s attention to her as she went about patching him up as best she could. A few minutes passed, Link occasionally hissing as Malon applied a disinfectant, and then Malon declared him patched up, wandering over to look at the letter over her father’s shoulder.

“What does it say?” She asked, crowding him as Link shrugged back into his tunic.

“It’s an invitation,” Talon handed it to her to read herself. “Some kind of Star Carnival or something, happens every couple of years. She’s invited us to come,” 

Link slowly raised his hand, then waved when he noticed no one was paying attention to him. Talon looked up, then nudged Malon to get her attention. Link waved his hands at the letter then at the two of them, then threw his hands up in confusion. True, he could have signed, but he only thought of that afterwards.

“Oh, right,” Malon bounced over to sit next to him to hold the letter where he could see it. He looked at it, then at her. Malon scoffed. “It’s an invitation from my mother to come to the Star Carnival in the Mushroom Kingdom,”

Link blinked, then sighed ‘Mushroom Kingdom’ back at her with his face twisted up in confusion.

Malon blinked at him, then snapped her fingers. “Oh right, I never told you about my mother, did I? She lives in a neighboring kingdom off to the west, and her and dad had a bit of a falling out a few years after I was born. Dad and Ingo moved to Hyrule, and mom remarried. I have a half sister over there now,”

Link nodded slowly, then waved at the letter again.

“Oh, mom will occasionally invite us back for festivals and stuff. It’s her way of keeping up with us, while respecting that dad moved away for a reason,” she paused, then her head snapped up and turned to him so quickly he had to lean back in order to not get hit. “You should come with us!”

Malon blinked at him, wide eyed and grinning. Link couldn’t possibly say no. He nodded.

Malon made a giddy sound and wrapped Link in a hug, then slid off the table to hand the letter to her father. She came back to grab his hands and pull him off the table too.

“Oh, you’ll love it, Link! The Star Carnival is great, there’s all sorts of games, and events, and everyone comes out for it,” Malon chatteled off, dragging Link with her so she could keep talking at him while she finished up her chores.

Link completely forgot he was supposed to tell Zelda about the temple.

About a week later Link found himself next to Malon in an oddly mushroom shaped carriage her mother sent to collect them for the carnival. Apparently this was normal for these trips, but the fact the carriage had nothing to pull it but still moved confused Link. According to Malon this was how most things worked, but he wasn’t convinced he liked that.

The trip was uneventful, except how Link kept jumping every time the carriage bumped. The little mushroom person (“He’s a Toad, they’re the race that makes up most of the Mushroom Kingdom’s people,” Malon told him) kept up a steady stream of talk, pointing out everything he saw. Link was very glad he’d managed to convince Malon to let him take one of his swords and the mirror shield with him, he felt much more comfortable armed.

His discomfort was overshadowed, however, when the site of the carnival came into view. A big red and white striped tent, with booths and stalls set up throughout the whole grounds. There were people streaming all through the area, humans, toads and some other things as well. Link found it incredible, and Malon had to pull him back into the carriage before he fell out the window.

Eventually, the carriage came to a stop at the entrance to the grounds and the three Hyruleans stepped out. There were a few long moments as Link looked around in awe, and confusion, at some of the things he was seeing. There were moving paintings positioned around the grounds showing some guy who was mostly hat and blaring his voice across the area. Malon called these moving paintings ‘video screens’, and that they were looking at something happening in a different part of the carnival. Link didn’t understand that, but they were moving along fast enough that he didn’t linger on it.

He was snapped out of looking at some star shaped pastries at a loud squeal, head snapping up and on alert. He relaxed when Malon laughed and waved in response.

“Malon!” A higher pitched voice called, belonging to a taller woman with bright blonde hair wearing a very big pink dress and long white gloves. She had a crown on her head. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” Malon laughed as she hugged the other woman. “Why would I miss this?”

Malon then switched to hugging and greeting another woman closer to her age, also wearing a crown but dressed in blue, her hair covering her right eye. A little chubby star creature floated next to her and waved.

Link blinked and watched the exchange, hovering off to the side.

“Oh!” Malon abruptly remembered him and turned to tug him up. “Link, I want you to meet my mother, Queen Peach, and my half sister Rosalina. Mom, Rosy, this is my boyfriend Link,”

Link managed to get himself out of his ‘Malon’s mom is queen???!?’ confusion loop long enough to bow, trying to be polite.

 “Oh no, please don’t. No one has bowed to me in a very long time, and it’s weird to see now,” Queen Peach giggled lightly as Link straightened up, the tips of his ears turning red. “You didn’t mention you had a boyfriend,”

“Uh, surprise!” Malon waved her hands as she gave her mother and sister a sheepish grin. “I have a boyfriend! His name is Link,” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rosalina extended her hand, and Link took it to shake. 

Link nodded and grinned, then signed back ‘it’s nice to meet you too’ at her when she dropped his hand. Both women blinked at him and for a second he thought he’d done something wrong. He slowly lowered his hands and blinked at them too. Maybe they didn’t speak Hylian sign? He’d never encountered someone who couldn’t understand him, but outside of Hyrule it wasn’t impossible.

“Oh,” Malon jumped in, waving at him. “Link is mute, so he uses sign to talk. I should have mentioned that,”

“Oh,” Queen Peach brightened up again. “Of course. Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Link. I hope you enjoy the carnival,” she signed as she spoke, and Link blinked at her, then matched her grin.

Link nodded happily, letting her know it wasn’t like anything he’d encountered before, but that he was enjoying things so far. 

Queen Peach offered to show them around, which Malon accepted for them, and they went about walking through the grounds while the queen pointed out different attractions. Most of these involved events she called minigames, though a few featured other attractions. Apparently minigames were part of a big event called a Party, which was a competition people could compete in for prizes. Malon had very quietly dissuaded him from participating, as apparently she was worried a few of the minigames might mess with his trauma if he were to play them. Also, apparently Hylians weren’t as durable as the people of the Mushroom Kingdom.

“Oh!” Queen Peach bounced over to one of the video screens and grinned. “It looks like a Party is starting!”

Wandering up to join the toadstool queen, Link blinked up at the moving paintings on the screen, still confused as to how that worked. The man who was mostly hat introduced a group of four, a stout man in red with blue overalls with a very big mustache named Mario, a brunette woman in a yellow dress named Daisy, a stal-like creature that resembled the creatures Malon told him were koopahs who was introduced as Dry Bones, and a tall lanky man in purple who introduced himself as Waluigi. Queen Peach was grinning, and Malon was laughing a little at this.

Link tapped Malon’s shoulder and asked her who those people were.

“Oh, well Mario is mom’s husband, and Daisy is his brother’s wife. Dry Bones is a friend, I think, and Waluigi just shows up for events like this,” Malon explained to him, pointing as she did. “It can be hard to keep track of who’s friendly and who isn’t all the time, things change so often,”

“They don’t change often,” Queen Peach giggled. “The only time anything changes is when Bowser kidnaps me, then we’re briefly enemies, but we go back to being friends when Mario comes to rescue me,”

Link blinked at her, face scrunched up. She talked like this was normal. Apparently, this was quickly explained to him, it was. It was just the relationship those three had. Link wasn’t sure he’d ever understand that concept, but was willing to push it aside for the moment.

They stood and watched the Party, and Link was glad Malon had encouraged him not to try any of the minigames. She was right about a few of them not meshing well with his trauma. He’d actually had to turn away during one because of how much it reminded him of fighting Volvagia in the Fire Temple. It was pretty easy for Malon to work him down again, and he was ever so grateful for her and her patience with him, but they didn’t turn back until after the minigame was over.

Once the Party was over, Queen Peach eagerly dragged them over to something called a warp pad in order to greet her husband when he got there. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

Already waiting at the pad was a very large individual. He looked vaguely like a koopah, but was much bigger, and his shell was studded with spikes. Helpfully, Link’s mind supplied him with the theory that the koopah might be like the Zora, with the ruler being much bigger than the rest of their people, and so this might be their king.

He was right, he’d soon learn.

What had him stopping dead was the man next to him. Almost eight feet tall, bright red hair, black armor. The man was distinctly Gerudo, and looked identical to Ganondorf. Link reached out and grabbed Malon’s arm, pointing out the man to her and signing as fast as she could keep up. Malon had his shoulders in her hands, and was trying to talk to him slowly, the same way she did when working him down from a panic attack or a spike in anxiety. Maybe he was freaking out, he certainly didn’t feel calm. But Ganondorf shouldn’t be here, Zelda’s father had him executed. He shouldn’t be alive, let alone here.

“Is something wrong?” Queen Peach popped up in Link’s peripheral vision, but he was too busy trying not to panic to respond to her.

Thankfully, he had Malon.

“Kind of, Link’s had some, uh, adventures that have messed with his head a little. Bowser’s friend over there happens to look like a man named Ganondorf who tried to kill him more than once, with quite a bit of effort,” Malon rubbed Link’s arms as she spoke, glancing back at him every once in a while. “He’s a little freaked out to see someone who looks so similar, even if this can’t be Ganondorf, since Queen Zelda’s father, the late king, had him executed for trying to kill the royal family and steal Hyrule’s crown about ten or so years ago.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized,” Queen Peach paused, glancing back at Bowser and maybe-Ganondorf, then back to the two of them. “If you’ll give me a moment,”

She ducked out, and in the meantime Link managed to wrangle his breathing under control. Eventually, he felt confident enough in himself to not immediately try to stab maybe-Ganondorf, but he did pull the mirror shield onto his arm. He felt better when he had it out.

Link specifically kept his shield between himself and maybe-Ganondorf as they approached, Malon keeping a hand on his arm. The conversation petered out as they made it up.

Maybe-Ganondorf clapped his hands together, which had Link pulling up the shield and tensing. The maybe-Ganondorf paused, then spread his hands.

“I understand that someone who looked like me tried to hurt you in the past?” The man, who even sounded like Ganondorf, asked. Link was then hit again with the fact that in this timeline Ganondorf never actually tried to kill him, and even when he had it was both his past and future for a while. He nodded, not willing to dwell on the details of his seven year sleep and subsequent return to childhood. The man grimaced. “I am truly sorry then. My name is Greg, I am a good, friend, of Bowser’s, and I can assure you I am not the same man who wanted to see you come to harm,”

Link narrowed his eyes, but did peek a little further over his shield.

There was a long, tense moment where Link just looked over Greg, trying to decide how he felt about him. After several heartbeats where Link found nothing but honesty, he nodded and lowered the shield some. He didn’t put it away however.

Greg grinned, nodding back.

“You can probably put the shield away now,” Queen Peach offered gently.

Link just tightened his grip on the reflective defense and pulled it closer to himself.

“I don’t think that’s happening,” Malon said gently, squeezing his arm some. “It’s just, well, I’m sure it just makes him feel a little better, what with the situation and all. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never got better around male Gerudo,” she tried to laugh.

“What’s a Gerudo?” Greg asked.

Link dropped the shield to his side and made a face.

(---)

The rest of the day was spent being introduced to a few others of Queen Peach’s friends, and then later avoiding Greg as best he could, and even watching Malon play some of the minigames with her sister.

Link felt a little bad about avoiding Greg, but he looked so much like Ganondorf that he really didn’t trust himself not to hurt the man. Better to just avoid him.

They were invited to spend the night at Peach’s castle, after which they’d return to the carnival the next day.

Somehow, between meeting Mario and crashing for the night, the plumber convinced him to agree to a race.

Link didn’t know how to use any of the racing machines they had.

He spent a great deal of time, at length, bemoaning his impulsivity to Malon, who eventually got tired enough with him to track down her stepfather and get him to teach Link to use one of the machines. Mario, to his credit, was surprisingly understanding and more than helpful.

It didn’t take long to decide Link would do better on a bike than in a kart.

Link also needed to help repair a wall later.

These are related.

“Alright,” Mario rubbed his hands together as he coached Link through the basics. “This-a thing here? That’s-a the brakes. You pull on-a those to slow down. This-a piece you twist, and that makes-a you go! You see?”

Link nodded slowly, pulling on the lever for the brakes and twisting the handle.

“Okay, let’s-a do one lap around the track, and-a see how you do,” Mario nodded back waving at the track. “Let’s-a go!”

Link gave a sharp nod, taking a deep breath as he did. This would be his fifth try at this.

Malon gave him a pair of thumbs up from the sidelines, grinning at him. He was glad she was more confident in him than he was.

He slowly twisted the handle, the machine puttering to life (a phrase Link was distinctly uncomfortable with) and eased forward gently. After a few moments he was increasing speed around the oval track, getting more comfortable with using the bike. He avoided the jumps he could, but managed to not wipe out on the ones he couldn’t. Slowing to a stop in front of Malon and Mario, he felt distinctly proud of himself for not crashing.

Malon jumped up from where she was sitting, clapping happily as she bounced over to hug him.

“You didn’t crash that time!” She grinned. “You’re getting better!”

‘I am,’ Link grinned back, a group of bees set loose in his chest alongside the happiness.

“You’re-a doing so much better! Now, let’s-a maybe think about getting better with the jumps, hm?” Mario clapped as he approached.

Link nodded, signing his response slowly. Mario knew Mushroom Kingdom Sign, but not Hylian Sign, and the two had some differences. This meant communication was slow going, which was partly why Malon was there.

They spent a few more hours, and a lot more crashing, practicing the jumps. Apparently there were a lot of jumps in these races.

By the time they decided to take a break for lunch, Link was covered in bruises but could also reasonably be trusted to not crash every time he attempted a jump, which was much better than he was when they started.

“Oh my! What happened to you?” Peach gasped, looking over the group as they arrived to join the queen and the rest of the family for lunch.

‘Learned the jumps,’ Link signed at her, grinning maybe a bit wider than he needed to.

“The bruises were self-inflicted,” Malon told everyone, dragging Link over to sit between Talon and Rosalina with her. “He’s gotten very good at crashing. And at not crashing, but that skill’s taking longer,”

Rosalina started giggling. “Well, it seems we all have a type,”

Link looked at her in confusion while he let Malon set up plates for them.

“What do you mean?” Peach asked.

Rosalina pointed at her mother. “You married dad, who is prone to extreme spots. And turns sports that aren’t extreme sports into extreme sports. I have never seen someone make golf a full contact sport other than him,” she turned her finger to Malon. “Malon has brought home a boy who is firstly more than willing to participate in said extreme sports, and, Mal you said he works for your Queen, right?”

Malon nodded. “He’s technically part of the royal guard, but really he’s just sent out to go deal with monsters when Her Majesty can’t do it herself. He comes back bleeding a lot,” she sent him a halfhearted glare. He smiled innocently in response.

“Right,” Rosalina nodded. “He’s prone to come back bleeding. And the last time I saw Sammy, she was also bleeding and bruised because she got in a fight with a robot that nearly kicked her, erm, butt,” she cleared her throat and paused until she got a nod from her mother, then continued. “Right, so, my point is we have a type, and it’s the same one,”

“And that type is?” Malon asked.

“People who are prone to getting hurt,”

Link felt mildly like he should be offended by that, but Malon was just nodding along so he decided to drop it. It wasn’t like he could argue, after all.

“Oh, is your girlfriend coming?” Malon asked, handing Link a plate but focusing on her sister.

Link didn’t know what some of the things on his plate were, and lightly poked at one of the mushrooms. This is why he decided to let Malon grab food for him.

“She should be, she told me she’d try at least,” Rosalina nodded. “But, well, you know how busy she can be sometimes. Her job doesn’t allow her a lot of free time,”

Malon nodded. “I get that. It can be hard dating someone who spends so much time away getting in fights,”

She gave Link a side eye and he paused halfway into a bite. Was she mad at him? Or was this one of those joking jab things? He couldn’t quite tell the difference yet. She didn’t seem like she was mad at him. Maybe she was trying to relate to her sister? Wait, what did her sister’s girlfriend do that he’d be a comparison?

He figured he’d ask.

Apparently Sammy was a mercenary (“She fights things for money,” Malon told him. “Kind of like you do, but you work for the Queen and she works for herself,”), and that meant she spent a lot of time away and then coming back injured. Like Link did.

“You’d probably get along with her really well,” Malon offered, subtly adding more of the thing he’d already cleared off his plate to his portion. “You can bond over killing things and getting hurt and worrying your girlfriends about the fact that you’re out killing things and getting hurt all alone,”

Link frowned at her and narrowed his eyes. The worst part was that he couldn’t even argue, she was right. He did spend a lot of time killing things and getting hurt and worrying her, and he did do most of it alone.

That thought sort of made his chest ache. He wouldn’t be alone if he still had Navi, but he hadn’t been able to find her yet. He didn’t want to sour the atmosphere though, so he pushed that thought to the side and shoved Malon’s shoulder in retaliation.

Malon shoved him back, laughing, and Link didn’t bother fighting the grin on his face. It was moments like this that made the trauma and the longing easier to deal with.

They spent some more time practicing the jumps for the race Link had gotten himself roped into and introducing him to the ‘power ups’, and then wandered around the festival grounds until dinner, where they retired to the castle. Link found out quickly that the power ups were made with people way more durable than him in mind. A conversation started about finding an item or something that might help protect him a bit.

Malon had pulled out a health potion she insisted Link drink to heal up the bruises he’d acquired when they heard the, whirring? Link didn’t know what to make of that sound, but he did know he should figure it out.

Which is how Link ended up carefully crossing the entryway of the castle, eyes on the front door, Malon frustrated and following behind him.

Rosalina came barrelling down a stairwell just as Link got to the door, startling him.

“Don’t mind Link,” Malon rolled her eyes. “He’s just never heard the sound of a ship landing before,”

Ship?

“So that was her ship I saw!” Rosalina pushed past Link, who made a strangled noise as she did, and ran out the door.

Link followed, hand on his sword, just in case, and froze.

Someone was standing on the bridge to the castle, wearing dark orange armor and standing easily as tall as a gerudo, maybe taller. Link couldn’t make out much more from that, since the armor covered them head to toe, and their helmet covered their entire head and face. It also looked shinier than any armor he’d ever seen before.

This person caught Rosalina when she threw herself at them, lifting her up and spinning them both around. A sort of mechanical laugh came from the armored person.

Link turned to Malon.

“That’s Samus, Rosy’s girlfriend,” Malon explained. “Come on, let’s go say hi!”

Malon headed down the bridge to where Samus had set Rosalina down. Link stayed where he was, the Luma that followed Rosalina around coming up to float next to him. Luma yawned, and Link offered it a small smile. They must have been getting ready for bed when Samus arrived.

“Link!” He turned at Malon’s shout, seeing her wave at him. “Come meet Samus!”

Samus had pulled off her helmet, revealing tied back blonde hair and pale skin. So, not gerudo, just tall.

He offered Luma a sympathetic shrug and wandered over.

“Link, this is Samus,” Malon waved between them as Link came up. “Samus, this is my boyfriend, Link. He’s mute, so he speaks using sign, but he can hear you just fine,”

“Hello, Link,” Samus offered him a smile, signing in very choppy Hylian Sign as she spoke, and then offered her hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you,”

Link signed slowly as he replied, figuring Samus might appreciate it, and then accepted her handshake.

They didn’t stay standing there for long since it was already getting quite dark. Link offered to help Samus move in some of her things, since she was apparently staying for a few weeks between jobs, which is how he found himself pulling on his golden gauntlets to pick up a very heavy suitcase to carry inside. Samus had the other very heavy case, and Malon and Rosalina helped carry in the rest of it.

Once Samus was settled Malon resumed her crusade to get Link to drink the rest of the health potion.

(---)

The next time Link ran into Samus was right before his race. They hadn’t found something to help with the power ups yet, though he did receive a racing suit to wear in case he crashed.

He stopped mid-sign as something heavy dropped round his neck.

He turned to look down at the item, some kind of medallion on a chain. There was some kind of bird on it, and some kind of writing he couldn’t read, though he didn’t expect to be able to. It didn’t feel magical, but it did sort of, hum in his hands.

He turned around to blink up at the person who dropped in on him. Which turned out to be Samus.

She wasn’t wearing the armor, instead wearing just a skin-tight blue outfit that showed off her abs and the muscles in her arms. She had a lot of muscle. Link started doubting his conclusion that she wasn’t somehow part gerudo.

“I heard you were worried about being durable enough to compete,” Samus explained when Link made a confused motion at the medallion. “That should help,”

‘How?’ Link asked.

“It’s an old bit of tech I picked up but haven’t needed in a long while,” Samus explained.

Link spent a moment finger spelling out that word and trying to remember where he heard it before.

“It’s like magic, but not magic,” Rosalina appeared to lean behind Samus, who towered over her even when she was standing straight. “Sammy you need to remember they don’t even have video screens in Hyrule, you’re going to confuse him,”

“Oh,” Samus blinked, looking between them. “Uh, sorry,”

Link waved her off and assured her it was fine, and then asked for more clarification on the item she just gave him.

“I figured it would solve your durability issue,” Samus explained. “For the race,”

Link nodded, turning it over in his hands for a minute. He tucked it under the suit, the metal oddly warm despite having only just put it on, and thanked Samus for the help.

She promised to be cheering him on, which was met by a huff and light shove from Rosalina, who was also racing.

The medallion did help. It didn’t quite put him on par with the native residents of the Mushroom Kingdom, but it did keep him from getting seriously hurt by some of the more extreme power ups.

Seriously, some of them were just insane.

He didn’t win, but he did come about middle of the pack, which he was quite proud of.

Samus let him keep the medallion, since he could probably get more use out of it than she would, and then Rosalina dragged them all out to get some star pastries to celebrate the fact she won.

Samus ended up far more confident in her Hylian Sign by the end of the day, mostly due to her and Link being dragged about the faire by their girlfriends as they competed in a few minigames. Samus had asked for some help practicing when she noticed Link was a bit uncomfortable with some of the minigames.

Link decided he liked Samus.

He especially liked it when their girlfriends got back and Rosalina had fake-whispered to Malon “Oh no, they’re teaming up!” and all four of them started laughing.

They stayed for a week, the length of the carnival, but they did have to get back to Hyrule. It didn’t help that Sheik had likely tried dealing with everything himself, and as such the kingdom had to deal with the Queen slipping out to fight things.

Once they’d said goodbye, with promises to write between Malon and her family, they climbed back into the little carriage thing they’d arrived in and Link turned to Malon immediately.

‘You’ll bring me with you next time too, right?’

Malon laughed, and agreed to bring him with the next time they were invited.

Neither of them had fully expected Link to get a letter a few weeks after they got home, but sure enough, it was his name written in the alphabet used by the Mushroom Kingdom.

It was decided that they should probably teach him how to read that alphabet after that.

The small package he received from Rosalina a few years later with her and Malon’s grandmother’s engagement ring after he’d proposed with a little note that the ring he’d found was way too flashy was probably to be expected. Even he and Malon had agreed on that the day before. They did switch out the rings, and though the old Queen’s ring was still a bit fancy for a farm girl, it wasn’t going to accidentally blind someone.

He figured he’d pass off Queen Peach’s offer to plan their wedding to Zelda, who had also already decided she wanted to plan it.

Let people who actually knew what they were doing plan it, he’d focus on making sure he was mostly uninjured come the day of. He’d just help with the invitation list.

This, he learned later, was a very smart call.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 6: The Slowest Cooker

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

It’s Friday, April 17th, and they’re eating lunch in the Hoover building’s cafeteria. They eat lunch together almost every day now, Mulder realizes. They’re practically joined at the hip.

Except in the fun way.

Today is different, though. Because today she invites him over for dinner.

Scully’s devouring a caesar salad, and Mulder’s heart is warmed by the evidence of her returning appetite. Five months ago, she was dying of cancer, and now she’s here stealing the occasional potato chip from the bag he got from the vending machine. He doesn’t mind; she could take his entire sandwich from him right now, and he’d happily watch her eat it.

“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she chews. “My mother got me a crockpot for my birthday and I’m thinking of giving it a test drive.”

His heart leaps, and he wants to shout yes, but instead he asks “What about Mark?”

She gives him one of her patented Scully looks. “I’m allowed to have friends, Mulder. And I still owe you for going to the bar with me that one time, remember?” She takes another bite of salad. “Also, he’s working.”

“Ah,” Mulder says knowingly. “Sure; what’s on the menu?”

“Pork roast,” she replies. “My mom’s recipe. The leftovers make great pulled-pork sandwiches.”

“Anything you’d like me to bring?”

Scully shrugs. “Red wine would go nicely, but I’ll be testing you at the door to make sure you’re not Eddie Van Blundht,” she says dryly.

“You gonna check me for evidence of a tail, Scully?” he says in a low tone, leaning in so they’re not overheard.

“Keep that up and I’m rescinding my invite and keeping all the leftovers to myself,” she replies, picking a wilted bit of romaine out of her salad.

It’s not a date, he reminds himself. Just friends sharing dinner.

Regardless, he takes a shower and puts on one of his nicer sweaters before heading to her place.

He knocks on her door at 6:30 sharp, a bottle of Pinot Noir in hand. His palm is a little sweaty, and he grips the wine tightly to avoid dropping it.

“It’s open,” he hears her call out.

He opens the door and is hit by the savory aroma of meat and herbs. His mouth waters instantly. When he turns and sees her in the kitchen, it waters for a different reason entirely.

Scully’s reaching into the cupboard above the sink, her soft green sweater riding up to expose a ribbon of creamy skin. He wants to wrap his arms around her waist, kiss her neck, tell her to forget dinner because he’s got something else on his mind.

Instead he just says “Hey”.

“Hi,” she greets him, bringing down two salad plates and setting them on the table. “Do you want to hear the good news first or the bad?”

Mulder blinks. “Uh,” he says brilliantly. That goddamn little sweater-

“The good news is that I’ve had the crockpot running for about six hours, and nothing’s caught fire,” she says, leaning against the countertop.

He nods. “And the bad news is…”

“I started the roast at almost half noon,” Scully admits. “I had to go to the grocery store first and that took longer than expected. So the meat won’t be done until eight-thirty.”

“That’s fine,” Mulder says, hoping his stomach doesn’t rumble loudly enough for her to hear. “Oh, and I brought Pinot Noir,” he says, reading the label.

---

They eat the salad she prepared; it’s spinach and apple with vinaigrette, and Mulder has to admit it’s pretty tasty.

“You’re a good hostess, Scully,” Mulder says as she pours him a glass of Prosecco. “Maggie should be proud.”

“Please note the size of crockpot she gifted me,” Scully replies, gesturing to the slow-cooker on the counter. “She fully intends for me to feed a crowd, not just you. I have a long way to go.” She sits across from him and takes a sip of her wine. “But this is a start.”

“Can I make a confession?” he asks.

Scully nods.

“I… I don’t drink much wine. So I have no idea if the one I brought is any good. I told the store clerk I was having pork for dinner and he recommended that one,” Mulder says, cocking his head toward the bottle on the counter.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scully assures him. “I’m not a wine snob by any means. I’m kind of surprised you’re not one, actually, considering your background.”

Mulder shrugs. “I don’t drink much, aside from the occasional beer. But this is good,” he says, lifting his glass.

———

The Prosecco is… very good.

“How long until the meat’s done?” Mulder asks, resting his head on his hand.

“Half hour,” Scully replies, downing the last sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, Mulder. Do you want some cheese and crackers to tide you over?”

“M’good,” he says lazily, stifling a burp. He’s feeling warm and soft inside, and the wine’s put him in a charitable mood. “How are things with Mark?”

“Things are good… things are fine,” Scully says, then sighs. “He’s… god, he’s so nice.”

“Nice is good, right?” Mulder asks, toying with his empty wine glass. “People like nice.”

Scully narrows her eyes at him. “Are you feeling okay, Mulder?”

“We’re not talking about me,” he says, slumping in his chair and stretching his long legs out under the table. “We’re talking about Mark. Mark Eidolanterns.”

“Einolander,” Scully corrects him. “And yes, nice is good, generally,” she continues. “But sometimes I wish he weren’t so nice. I don’t know,” she says, exhaling. “I need more wine if I’m going to talk about this,” she says with a huff of laughter.

“Hey, we got it,” Mulder says. “Dinner’s almost ready anyway. Let’s try the mystery Pinot I brought.”

---

The pot roast is done cooking and they’re definitely a little drunk.

“Whew… I’m feeling this,” Mulder says, holding the bottle up too close to his face as he attempts to read the label. “It’s been so long, I forgot that wine does this to me.”

“Higher alcohol content,” Scully says. “And you’re a lightweight.”

“That your medical opinion, Dr. Scully?” he asks.

“Yes,” she mumbles, slicing a piece off of the roast and dumping it unceremoniously onto his plate. “Tada,” she says, pushing it across the table to him. “Meat.”

“I can see that,” he remarks. He takes another sip of wine. “Wine’s good,” he assures her, even though she’s already on her second glass of the red.

“Can’t say the same for the roast,” she admits, chewing. “I skimped on the salt and in hindsight that was a bad idea.”

Mulder shovels a piece into his mouth. “Tastes good to me,” he assures her. “But I’ve only had wine and salad since lunchtime so at this point I’d eat anything. I’d eat you,” he adds, pointing his fork in her direction.

“Pass that idea along to Mark,” she sighs, then covers her mouth. “I didn’t say that,” she says, face red.

“You did,” Mulder crows, too tipsy to feel jealous. “You did and I heard you.” He takes another draw from his glass. “The store guy was right, this is good with pork.”

“You’re going to have an incredible hangover tomorrow,” Scully says, chewing meditatively. “Wine’s a bitch.”

“You should swear more,” Mulder says. “It’s endearing.”

Scully shakes her head. “I can’t believe how drunk you are,” she says, almost fondly.

“I’m not that drunk,” he insists. Just in love with you.

Scully smiles. “No sober man has ever said that.”

---

“There’s no spark,” she blurts out.

They’d taken the rest of of the wine to the couch and are slumped on opposite ends, goblets in hand.

“No spark?” Mulder echoes. It was an admission he wasn’t expecting. He angles his body towards hers, careful not to spill his glass.

“With Mark. I like him, I really do. He’s kind, intelligent, a devoted father, and quite attractive; and yet…” She gestures loosely to her body with the hand not holding her wine. “Nothing.” She takes another sip. “I can’t shake the idea that I should be feeling more. And the fact that he hasn’t kissed me yet... I understand wanting to move slowly and let things grow with time, but not even a single kiss?”

“Th-that did strike me as odd,” Mulder stumbles. “You have nice lips.”

“I do,” Scully agrees, seemingly unfazed by the comment. “I should be kissed.” She drains her glass and holds it out to him.

Mulder pours out the last of the bottle into her glass. “Maybe if… maybe if you kissed, you’d find the spark.”

Scully shakes her head. “No. No, it does’t work that way. At least not for me. I don’t want to force chemistry that’s not there,” she explains. “It should come naturally, feel like it does with-”

Mulder waits expectantly for her to finish her sentence. “With?” he prompts.

Her face is flushed with wine, and she licks her lips. “Mulder, tell me honestly; do you think I’m settling?”

The room suddenly feels too warm, and he takes a nervous gulp of wine that does nothing to calm his body. “Scully, I- I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“You’re my closest friend,” she says softly, eyes cast downward. “Who else would I ask?”

She has a point. “Your mother-” he begins.

“She set me up with him in the first place,” Scully reminds him. “Clearly she’d be no help.”

“What do you want, Scully? If you’re honest with yourself.” He raises his glass. “In vino veritas, or whatever,” he says, taking another drink.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I always do this. I find a man I want to impress or gain the approval of, then resent the authority I let them have over me. This cycle of… of compliance and defiance is exhausting.”

He can tell she’s tipsy, and yet at the same time she’s strangely lucid. He’s never gotten to experience this particular kind of vulnerability with her before, and it gives him a thrill. He can feel the warmth of her body permeating him from across the sofa, her bright hair like a wood stove fire on a winter night. He wants to wrap her entire body around him like a blanket and have a long sleep.

“Yup, I’m drunk,” he declares, and throws back the last of his glass.

[luvksj]

Yandere! Undisputed Era: Don’t Try Me

author’s note: so... i’m trying to create a masterlist so you can find all my stories much easier but i have no freaking idea where to start so... if anyone knows how to... please help me out. hope you guys are enjoying my stories so far and sorry if anything is confusion or goes suddenly off-topic, i try my best to remain consistent as possible. anyway, here’s another yandere! undisputed era story because i love them so much (not as much as the shield). again, thank you for supporting my stories and i’ll never stop expressing my gratitude for how much each like means to me. 

plot: ever since pat mcafee ambushed your boyfriends, the undisputed era, he has been consistently taunting you, making incredibly rude comments all because your boyfriends weren’t here to protect you. you decided to prove why no-one should ever under-estimate you.

“You can talk the talk... let’s see if you can walk the walk, hmm?” you said. 

Ever since Pat McAfee ambushed your boyfriends, you’ve been the target of his consistently rude comments. The results of his attack left all four members unconscious in the hospital while you spent majority of your day talking to doctors for daily updates. 

The final straw came when Pat McAfee declared that you were hiding from him because you can’t fend for yourself since he gave your boyfriends a one-way ticket to the hospital. 

Marching angrily inside, you ignore everyone’s stares and climb inside the ring, demanding Pat McAfee to come out. He cockily walks out, slowly getting inside the ring. “How dare you say that I can’t fight. Just because you put my boyfriends in a hospital gives you no right in making rude comments about me. If anything... you’re the pussy here, darling.” you spit.

His cocky demeanor flickers slightly, “You had to ambush them because you don’t have the balls to fight them face-to-face because you knew that they would whip your ass. While you’ve been running your mouth, I’ve been looking after my boyfriends because that’s what a girlfriend does.” fans were cheering as he grimaces.  

“Enough is enough. I’m here to challenge you and prove that I’m one badass motherfucker with or without my boyfriends here.” you start off, staring towards an NXT Takeover graphic as his eyes follows. 

Fans cheers become louder with each passing second, “You can talk the talk... let’s see if you can walk the walk, hmm?” you said. Fans excitedly chant, pressuring Pat McAfee, he clearly didn’t expect this and hoped you’d admit everything he’s been saying was true. 

But, you were different than the rest. 

“I challenge you to a Steel Cage match at NXT Takeover.” you announce as fans scream excitedly while glaring Pat McAfee dead in his eyes. “There’s no Undisputed Era to protect me, I’m all alone but rest assured... I’m going to drag you through absolute hell! And... that’s Undisputed.” you finish.

Pat McAfee looks rather impressed by your confidence, “Feisty one I see, no wonder the Undisputed Era likes you.” he said. Watching blankly, your anger had reached boiling point but he didn’t need to know that since it would inflate his ego. “I will show everyone that you’re nothing but a weak, little bitch who needs her boyfriends to protect her. At Takeover, I’ll make you my bitch.” he taunts.

You launch yourself at him, screaming in anguish. Referees tried pulling you away but that didn’t prevent you from landing a Superkick, watching him recoil in pain. “At Takeover... I’m not becoming your bitch... you’re becoming my bitch.” 

[time skip]

You trained hard each day for this match. You were warming up backstage, you stared at a photo of the Undisputed Era with a soft smile, knowing they were cheering for you... despite not knowing anything about this because you hadn’t visited them in so long. 

Dressed in your custom ‘Undisputed Era’ wrestling gear, you admired yourself before heading out where Pat McAfee awaited inside the steel structure. “AND HIS CHALLENGER, FROM [Y/H/T], WEIGHING IN AT [Y/W] (author’s note: y/h/t means your home town and y/w means your weight), REPRESENTING THE UNDISPUTED ERA, Y/N!” Alicia introduced. 

You pull the Undisputed Era hand sign before the most anticipated match of NXT Takeover officially began with fans cheering loudly.

[another time skip]

The match has been going on for hours, neither of you wanted to give up. Blood gushed down from your face; the ring was littered in broken tables, bent ladders, snapped kendo sticks, and dismantled chairs.

You were just Suplex into two ladders but managed to kick out. Pat McAfee had dragged you to the top of the cage, hoping to hit another Suplex but you avoided it before connected with a Tornado DDT from the top of the cage. Commentary was going insane, fans couldn’t believe it and you pinned him for the win.

“AND THE WINNER, REPRESENTING THE UNDISPUTED ERA, Y/N!”

You had no energy to even get up as the referee tries holding your hand up, you had lost too much blood, slowly losing your consciousness as Pat McAfee was already unconscious. Paramedics raced to the both of you, loading you hurriedly onto stretchers with a cloth pressed firmly onto your open wound causing this much blood loss. 

Groaning, the doors were slammed closed with a paramedic demanding that you remain awake but the heaviness of your eyes overpowered everything. 

[two weeks later]

You woke up a couple days later, completely out of it. You couldn’t remember a thing from the night apart from fainting inside an ambulance, even though your injuries were quite severe, that wasn’t what was worrying you. 

What was worrying you was the reaction your beloved boyfriends would have when they discovered that you competed in a match without their knowledge and ended up inside a hospital. 

Tonight, after being cleared by doctors to make an appearance, you would be making a surprise appearance to review the match considered by many as ‘one of WWE’s most iconic matches’. William Regal had informed you earlier that Pete Dunne, Oney Lorcan and Danny Burch were banned from ringside during your segment.

Fans cheered as you slowly got into the ring, it felt weird being here without your boyfriends standing protectively behind you. “Two weeks ago, I competed in a match to prove that I’m not that girl who can’t fight their own battles and relies on their boyfriends to protect them. I know they can’t always protect me and that’s okay because I also proved that I’m one badass motherfucker.”  you stated.

You continued talking about the match people have dubbed ‘one of WWE’s most iconic matches’. “Before I go...” you take a deep breath before continuing. “I’d like to apologize to my boyfriends. I’m sorry that I competed in a match behind your back but I could not just sit around while Pat McAfee made insulting comments towards you, the WWE universe and me. I could not just let this slide by anymore... and like people say... karma’s a real bitch.” Fans cheered as you tried leaving.

Yeah... tried. Because the next moment, ‘SHOCK THE SYSTEM’ resounds before Roderick and Adam walk out looking emotionless but you could see the mixed emotions swirling around in their eyes. You tried walking back but bump into the chest of Kyle and Bobby.

Bobby immediately pins your arms (lightly) behind your back before hearing that awful handcuffing sound. “Do you know what it feels like to have your girlfriend, the only person who accepts us for us, to be hospitalized because of a match you had no idea about.” Adam starts off. 

Oof, they were beyond pissed. 

“We came back, hoping that our girlfriend would run into our arms and everything would be alright. But... we come back and get told that you were in the hospital because you competed in a STEEL CAGE MATCH with someone twice your size. Do you know how we felt?” Kyle added on.

You bit your tongue as they scolded you, “Are you finished because do you know how I felt when Pat McAfee insulted me because I couldn’t fight my own battles. I needed to prove to that dickhead that I am more than capable of fighting back. He sexualized me, said I’m weak and you weren’t here to protect me. I’m sorry daddies if I’m being rude but I couldn’t sit there no more and let him do that. So... I made him my bitch.” they looked impressed.

“Although... we’re actually proud and pleased... you still need to be punished for breaking the rules, sweetheart.” Roderick said before being guided to an awaiting car where you were squished between Adam and Bobby while Kyle drove off. 

Yeah... in conclusion, everyone learnt their lessons. 

[t0wnspersonb]

Love and Gains (Bokuto Koutarou x Reader)

Word Count: 2,657

Summary: After dealing with an intense breakup you find yourself in the gym in hopes of distracting you from your heartbreak. You end up running into an interesting character, and after the brief interaction you find yourself attending his volleyball game. But when you run into your ex once more, a certain owl headed player decides to help you out of the uncomfortable situation.

Warnings: FLUFF, making out, bad language, cheating, angst, Bokuto being a perfect angel

~~~

I hope you guys enjoy this one! I had fun writing it! I love Bokuto so much it’s absolutely ridiculous. Hopefully I did our boy some justice! I apologize if the writing is shit though lmao. I’m sorry I haven’t been updating more, I’ve just been busy with a broken foot and work now smh. I’ll probably start opening up requests again soon but I will let you know when I do! Anyway I hope you guys had a wonderful 4th! Please enjoy!🤗🤗🤗💕💕💕

~~~

You grumbled angrily to yourself as you walked out of the locker room. Today wasn’t your day, and all you could think about was blowing off some steam.

 There weren’t that many people in the gym right now considering the time, so you easily found an empty treadmill, planning on doing a quick run as a warmup.

 This is what you needed, the burning in your legs as you ran was gladly welcomed, it distracted you from the burning that rested in your heart.

 You had gone to surprise your boyfriend at his dorm and had caught him cheating on you. 

 The image of him and that girl flashed in your mind, causing you to grit your teeth tightly, your fists clenched tightly together, and your legs started to carry you faster on the treadmill.

 You had done your crying a couple of hours earlier. Heart break wasn’t easy, the devastation that you felt was soul-crushing, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had cheated because it was something that you had done. 

 Maybe you weren’t spending enough time with him, maybe you weren’t satisfying his needs, maybe you were too clingy, too annoying, too emotional; for him to handle.

 You couldn’t help but think that it was all your fault that he cheated. 

 If you had just chosen the same college as him… then maybe he wouldn’t have cheated.

 No.

 You shook your head. You were done with these thoughts. You weren’t sad anymore, you weren’t blaming yourself anymore, you were angry now. You were fucking pissed now.

 How dare he. 

 He was the scum beneath your shoes, the rotten garbage at the very bottom of the trashcan and… and… and, fuck why did he do this to you?

 You felt tears sting at your eyes. You guys were together for three years, you never would have guessed that he would do that.

 That he would rip your heart out and stomp all over it. 

 You wondered if he was trying to get a hold of you, you had turned off your phone, wanting to hide away from the world.

 Boisterous laughter distracted you from your thoughts, you looked up to see two males stretching and doing light warmups.

 “Hey hey hey! Tsum-Tsum I’m going to beat you at reps today!” one of the males declared loudly.

 You looked on curiously, his hair reminded you of an owl. How strange.

 The other male smirked at him, getting up from the floor. “We’ll see Bokkun. We also have to do legs today.”

 You couldn’t help but notice that they were incredibly attractive, tall and muscular. But that was the last thing you fucking needed.

 No more boys, no more relationships, you were done. 

 After you had finished your warmup on the treadmill you started fishing out the headphones in your pocket. You headed over to the stairs next, you were going to drown yourself in workouts tonight, you needed the distraction.

 After finally finishing your exercises on the machines, you went over to the punching bags. Carefully wrapping your hands, you stared down at the red bag full of sand, and then started beating the shit out of it.

 This was the steam that you needed to blow off. But after a few moments, something caught your eye out of your peripheral. The owl-haired guy that you had noticed earlier was on the stairs and… oh. You couldn’t help but notice how nice his butt was.

 But then you started to notice how nice his entire body was. His back was strong and muscular, the muscles in his legs rippling with each step and…

 What were you doing? 

 You shook your head at the thoughts and started focusing more on your punches. That’s right. You weren’t going to get involved with another boy, you were going to focus on yourself and on school.

 Fuck boys.

 Fuck your ex.

 Your ex, your nostrils flared in anger and your punches became more intense; you couldn’t help picturing his stupid face as you punched the bag.

 “Wow your punches are really intense!” a voice said behind you. You yelped and suddenly the punching bag was thrown back into you, causing you to stumble back and fly into the chest of the voice behind you.

 It felt like you hit a brick wall. Warm, rough hands grabbed your bare shoulders steadying you as you regained your footing.

 You looked up and saw the owl-haired male staring down at you with a wide grin. You felt your face heat up and you stumbled out of his arms, stuttering apologizes as you put space between the two of you.

 He was so much bigger than you, you couldn’t help but to feel incredibly small as he stared down at you.

 “Umm. Did you want to use the punching bag or…” you trailed off awkwardly.

 “Oh! No not at all! I just saw you going crazy and I had to come over and compliment you.” he grinned widely, giving you a thumbs up. 

 You felt your face burning in embarrassment at his praise. “Oh umm -”

 “My name is Bokuto! Bokuto Koutarou! But you knew that already, didn’t you?” 

 Your brows furrowed in confusion, what was he talking about? He was a complete stranger to you, a hot stranger, but a stranger no less.

 Before you could say anything else his friend walked over to him. 

 “Oi Bokkun, we have to get going, Coach changed the practice tomorrow it’s earlier.” His eyes slid over to you, but he didn’t say anything else.

 “See you around punches!” Bokuto waved goodbye as they took off.

 You blinked after them.

 What?

 ****

 It had been several days since the incident at the gym, and your breakup with your boyfriend.

 Right now your best friend was dragging you to a volleyball match, much to your distaste. 

 She was a big volleyball fan, it wasn’t that you didn’t like the sport, but it was because your ex was a volleyball player.

 “You can’t let that asshole ruin the sport for you! There are so many other hot guys that play! Like the team we’re going to go see!” She chided you as you guys went to find your seats. 

 You rolled your eyes at her, “I don’t care, I’m not planning on dating anyone else right now.” 

 “You can’t - oh my god! There they are!” she said excitedly grabbing your arm and pointing towards the floor.

 You looked over at the team, and then gawked. Familiar gray hair stuck out, his broad back sporting the number 12 with his name clear across.

 Bokuto Koutarou. 

 What were the fucking odds?

 “You’re kidding me,” you said under your breath, of course you would be attracted to yet another volleyball player.

 “Shhh! It’s starting!” your friend shushed you. The game started, and honestly you were completely surprised.

 They were incredible, all of them, and Bokuto… holy shit. Bokuto was on another level, the raw talent and strength left you in awe, and he looked like he was having fun, a lot of fun.

 The entire game you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, and when they had won, your friend rushed you out of the gym in hopes of meeting up with them.

 However, a detour to the bathroom left you standing out against the wall as you waited for her. You lazily flipped through your phone, completely unaware of the tall figure approaching you.

 “Y/n-chan.”

 Your blood ran cold, your eyes shot up to stare back at the man that broke your heart. 

 “What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, heart racing in your chest as you stared up at his face. 

 “Me and some teammates wanted to scope out the competition, we play MSBY in a couple of weeks. What are you doing here?” he took a step closer to you.

 “Why does it matter?” you asked shortly, pressing yourself closer to the wall, your eyes flickered for a way to escape.

 “Don’t be like that, I’ve missed you. I know you miss me too.” he said, resting his hand near your head, he leaned in closer to you. “Come on, what we had was good. We were good together, let’s get back together.” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes as he leaned in closer.

 Anger and fear swelled into your being and you shoved him away, moving yourself away from the wall and putting distance between the two of you.

 “You cheated on me. You did that, you broke our relationship. I don’t miss you. I don’t want to be with you. You treated me like shit.” you stated angrily, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, but you bit them back. 

 He stared down at you with an unreadable expression and then it turned amused. “I’m the best thing you’ve ever had, will ever have. You’ve always been so ungrateful; you barely would put out for me. Of course, I would cheat on you, you weren’t satisfying my needs, you fucking prude. No one is ever going to date you.” he sneered and grabbed your arm, squeezing it painfully.

 “I’m already dating someone.” You blurted out, yanking your arm out of his grasp. 

 “Oh yeah who?” he rolled his eyes.

 Fuck. Why did you say that? Why did you lie like that? But then you noticed a familiar person out of the corner of your eye heading your way. You turned and all but threw yourself into his arms.

 Bokuto easily caught you, his strong arms wrapping around your figure tightly as you clung to his broad shoulders.

 “Please play along for a moment.” You whispered against his ear.

 “Punches!?” he exclaimed, but never pushed you away.

 “Kou-kun!” you cooed loudly, finally releasing your grip on him, you turned to look at your ex who was staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

 “I’m dating Bokuto. You know, the Wing Spiker from the MSBY Black Jackals.” You stated proudly, gently resting your hand against his left pectoral and - holy shit it was like touching thick steel. 

 It was then that you became entirely aware of his large hand resting on the small of your back. Heat burned you through your shirt, but it was comforting, safe, reassuring. 

 “You’re fucking lying.” your ex scoffed, but you could see the nervousness shifting through his eyes as he looked between the two of you.

 “I’m not. We met a couple days ago at the gym and we hit it off.” You said simply, well it wasn’t a complete lie.

 “Her punches were killer and I noticed her nice butt right away.” Bokuto threw in, carefully pulling you into his side tighter.

 You ignored his statement and the rising blush that wanted to coat your cheeks, he was just playing along with you right? He didn’t mean that at all.

 “I don’t believe you, Y/n-chan. I need more proof.” your ex said smugly.

 You gritted your teeth in anger and peered up at the tall volleyball player that was staring down at you with curiosity and worry.

 “I’m so sorry. Please hang on just a bit longer.” You mumbled softly and then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanking him down to your height and kissed him.

 A surprised noise escaped Bokuto’s lips, but he kissed you back immediately, carefully grabbing your jaw and fitting your mouth against his better.

 His lips were warm and damp as they moved against yours urgently, his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled your body flush against his. The hands that were gripping his shirt traveled up against his strong chest and across his broad shoulders until your fingers threaded through the back of his hair. The hair at the back of his neck was damp from sweat, but still incredibly soft.

 You lost yourself in this kiss. No one has ever kissed you this way before. It was perfect, there were so many mixed emotions being felt in this moment.

 “Whatever.” you heard your ex mumble and the shuffling of feet. 

 You should stop kissing right? You should pull away and apologize profusely right?

 The kiss didn’t stop, if anything… it got more heated. 

 Bokuto dragged his tongue across your lower lip, begging for entrance, and you granted it immediately. A pleased noise escaping your mouth as your tongues swirled together. 

 The grip that Bokuto had on your body tightened at the noise, and his tongue battled against yours harder. 

 His smell, his taste, the way he felt pressed up against you… you couldn’t think about anything else other than this moment.

 How could a complete stranger make you feel so good? 

 A stranger.

 That’s right. You didn’t know this guy, not really anyway, and - oh - you reluctantly pulled away, you guys were in public, you guys were making out in public.

 Bokuto wasn’t done though, when you pulled away, he immediately tried to follow; attempting to capture your lips once again in another kiss.

 It wasn’t until you heard the loud throat clearing that you guys moved apart. His expression was dazed with lust as he stared down at you with gold eyes. 

 You were still pressed close to his body, his arms never leaving you, even after you made eye contact with your friend who was staring at you in amusement. 

 Your face burned red as you gently pressed your forehead against his thick chest. But when you had realized what you just did, you leaped out of his arms, eyes wide in embarrassment.

 “Bokuto-san I’m so sorry!” you apologized bowing. “That was my ex and he -”

 He held his hand up, stopping your explanation. His face was red slightly, his hair mused from your fingers. But his eyes were wide and bright. “What a way to greet someone, punches!”

 His boisterous laughter eased the worry that was creeping into your being. 

 “It’s fate that we’re meeting again! Listen punches, I was going to ask for your number at the gym before Tsum-Tsum pulled me away. But after a kiss like that I definitely want to take you out on a date!” he grinned widely, fishing out his phone and handing it to you.

 You blinked at him in surprise and then nodded slowly. 

 “Yeah… that… that sounds good. I’d like that.” you said, putting your number into his phone, a soft blush coating your cheeks.

 “Hey, hey, hey!” he cheered loudly, his arms up in the air in triumph. “I got the pretty girl’s number! Oh… um,” he scratched his cheek sheepishly, “what’s your name?”

 You blinked at him, you made out with the poor guy and he didn’t even know your name yet. “I’m so sorry I should’ve told you earlier… it’s Y/n.”

 “Y/n.” Bokuto repeated and then grinned widely. “I like it! I have to get going punches! I’ll text you later tonight! I’ll be at the gym later too if you want to meet up!” 

 When the tall player was out of your sight a large smile began to stretch across your lips, your friend screeching at you about what had happened was a sight to see to the people walking past you.

 Maybe you weren’t going to swear boys off after all, or at least, Bokuto would be the exception.

 ****

 “Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto called out angrily.

 “What is it Bokkun?” the setter looked at him in confusion, where was this anger coming from?

 “This guy sucks!” he said bluntly, pointing across the net to the other team, but his finger was pointing at the one guy he didn’t want to see ever.

 Your ex.

 It had been several weeks since that second meeting with Bokuto. You guys were dating now, and it was everything you could ever dream of.

 “I’m going to crush him for hurting my Y/n!” he declared heatedly.

 Your ex went home crying that day needless to say.

[buckyownsmylife]

My Mistakes - Henry Cavill Smut

The one where Henry Cavill was your married professor and he appears on your door one night after his life falls apart.

Warnings: smut, no actual cheating in Henry’s end (althought that’s open for consideration), professor-student relationship (the student’s supposed to be in the process of achieving a PhD), dirty talk (hello, it’s me), sir kink, praise kink, actually quite a lot of fluff because these two are idiots in love

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

Behind him, the rain poured in what would probably be the last summer storm of the year. Once in a while, loud thunder echoed around my empty house, making me jump every single time. Lord knows how much I hated lightning and thunder. 

His curls stuck to his head, some strands in front of his beautiful eyes that held so much emotion I couldn’t identify, but reacted to it nonetheless, goosebumps traveling across my body and my heart speeding up at the sight of my advisor in front of me, in my apartment, on a Saturday night. Granted, he had been here before, but those days of carefree conversations and shared nights where we’d bond over work to grade had disappeared the minute he said ‘I do’ and hid once more behind the shell I had worked so hard to break when we first met. Sure, I missed him. But I also understood the situation, especially now that he had a kid. He was someone else, he had new roles to fill and he was still getting used to his new responsibilities. I was just glad he still confided in me once in a while, allowing me to catch glances of the Henry that I used to know, the one I considered a friend. 

Still, it was probably for the best. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to continue our relationship as it was without suffering considerably, knowing I could never have him, now that he was married. When it was only dating I could deal with it, deluding myself into believing we could actually have something more, that he felt the same way I did when our hands eventually touched while sharing a bottle of wine. 

And there was that night. God, it seemed like a million years ago. We had managed to bring one of his colleagues to do a guest lecture to our class and the whole research group was in a frenzy, the relaxation after so many months of hard work and organization finally starting to hit us. They had all come here, to my house, even the invited professor and his students, and we drank together and laughed for hours. I couldn’t bring myself to care about the fact that I had an exam first thing in the morning, I was having too much fun. 

And not because of our honorable guest, my friends, or the new people I had the opportunity of meeting, oh no. It was all because of Henry. That night, it seemed like all his walls had completely disappeared, leaving a funny, breezy, touchy man behind. I had seen glimpses of this personality before, the one I assumed was his true personality, the one that he never showed to anyone, not even his wife or his mother. It only appeared when we were alone and he was drunk and something incredibly sentimental had happened, like when we had achieved the publication of one of our papers.

The last two boxes were checked, only this time we weren’t alone. But we might as well have been. He clung to me the whole night, even offering me scotch from his own glass before pulling me to him by my waist and wrapping his arms around me, warming me up from the cold breeze of the early morning on my roof. Daniel softly played something on my old guitar and in that moment I knew I would never love anyone just as much as I loved the broken, lonely, needy man holding me.

But then in the morning, he was back to his usual aloof self. And I was left wondering if I had imagined the whole thing, until suddenly he’d look at me in a certain way and I was right back to that moment, in his arms.

Yep. I had it bad for the guy. Good thing ever since he had become a father, we barely saw each other anymore. Whatever little meetings we had, shared cups of coffee and laughter, had vanished the moment his wife found out she was pregnant. It was cute, even, how dedicated he was to little Frank. But that also meant that whatever complaints about marriage and her, that he used to confide in me during those first months after they tied the knot, had simply vanished. They were suddenly the perfect little family.

And I was happy for him. Of course I was. All I ever wanted was for him to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. After all, what right did I have over him, when we had never even shared a kiss?

Which is what left the whole situation of him appearing in my house in the middle of the night, during a storm, even more bizarre.

“What are you doing here?” I finally let out, rushing him inside. “Come in, you must be freezing.” He didn’t budge. Still staring intently at me, his eyes, that I used to be able to read so well, now indecipherable. 

“He’s not mine,” he whispered, so quietly I barely heard him over the sounds of the storm around him.

“What? Henry, you’re not making any sense right now. Come in, please, you’re worrying me.” Still, he didn’t budge. His tongue came out to wet his lips and I found myself briefly mesmerized by that sight, wondering not for the first time how it would be like to kiss him.

“Frank,” he spoke, breaking me out of my little fantasy at the name of his child. “He’s not mine… He’s not my kid.”

My heart stopped briefly. I knew my eyes had grown twice their usual size, trying to process that information that was so randomly introduced to me in such a weird situation. 

“What? Wait, are you sure? But…” My breath was coming out in quick, shallow huffs, the weight of what he had just shared threatening to asphyxiate me. “How are you feeling, Henry? Wait, that’s a dumb question… Just… Come in, please, let me help you. Let’s talk.” I reached for him, aching to feel him, needing to check his physical integrity for myself. That kid was all he had thought about for the last four months. I knew this discovery had to be killing him.

He shook his head, one of his hands moving his hair out of the way. For a moment, I thought he was refusing my touch and so I let my arms fall next to my body as I pondered just what the hell he was doing here in the first place. 

“You don’t understand. He’s not mine.” He rubbed his eyes and I felt a wave of anger wash over me. Of course I understood what he had said, I wasn’t stupid. The only thing I didn’t understand was what the hell he was doing at my door at two in the morning with this kind of news. “I have no connection to her anymore. To them,” he finally declared and I blinked twice, confused by what precisely he meant by that. “I’m free,” he proceeded, his eyes never leaving mine, still clouded with emotions I remained unable to understand.

“You were never tied to her, or even to him, Henry. You chose that life. You walked into that marriage with your own two feet,” I reminded him, my voice a bit colder than I intended. 

“True,” he admitted, nodding quickly. “But the minute I said ‘I do’ I realized my mistake. What I had left behind, and thought I would never be able to have anymore. And feeling that way… It was worse than any physical imprisonment, Y/N. ”

I had grown impatient by then, my fingers tapping a random pattern at the wooden door I still held onto.

“And what was that, Henry? What did you leave behind?” I inquired, sighing.

A beat. Outside, the storm roared, announcing its intention to stay for as long as it could. Inside, the tension was so high I started to wonder if lightning was about to fall between us, separating us for good.

“You,” he finally confessed and before I could fully comprehend what he had just spluttered, he had latched himself into me, his lips finding mine and his arms pulling me to his wet body. 

A gasp of surprise must have left me before I responded to the kiss, but the sound had been lost in the rain the minute it left my lips and his joined mine. They were cold, as expected, but softer than I had imagined, and oh, how had I imagined this moment. He kissed me sweetly, patiently, like he was savoring his favorite wine that we had shared once. His fingers trembled against my waist as he held me close and I absentmindedly worried about the possibility of him catching pneumonia when he, at last, broke our kiss to catch a breath, still leaving his forehead close to mine, his eyes closed and I suddenly realized he was nervous.

I shivered, not entirely due to the fact that he was freezing from the weather he had subjected himself to and had left me drenched too. “Henry,” I mumbled, trying to get him to look at me. 

“Shhhh…” He pulled me even closer, our foreheads still touching, his eyes never opening. “Just… Let me have this moment, please,” he all but begged, and I felt my heart breaking into a thousand little pieces. He was hurt, understandably so and he had come here looking for a way to make his wife feel the way she had made him feel. 

Another type of cold filled me as I took a step back from him, forcing Henry to release me. I caught a glimpse of his expression, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me just before I turned my back to him, hugging myself and trying to control my thoughts before I started crying. 

“You should leave.” I hated how my voice broke, how weak I felt as I murmured what my mind knew I should say, despite the way my body felt.

I heard the door close behind me after a few seconds and allowed myself to release the breath I was holding as I waited for his reaction, the tears breaking free by then. The first sob had just escaped my chest when I felt arms wrapping around me, a freezing body hugging me from behind.

He waited patiently as I cried, his face hidden in the crook of my neck, his breath tickling me and warming me up as I sobbed. I cried for what felt like hours, the anger of what he was putting me through subsiding and leaving me lamenting for this man who had lost his entire family in a few seconds. 

“You can’t do this to me, Henry,” I wearily breathed out when the tears finally stopped rolling down my cheeks, still not turning around to look at him, who still hugged me. 

“I know,” he confirmed, as he finally raised his head from my neck to rest it on the top of my head. I pursed my lips, wanting to leave him yet again but lacking the strength to do so a second time. “Believe me, I know, darling.”

He finally let me go, walking around me to catch my face in his hands. “You deserve better. So much better than this. So much better than me. You deserve someone who will admit their feelings the minute they lay their eyes on you because you’re intoxicating from the first sight, Y/N.” 

I couldn’t uncross my arms, afraid that if I let at least this last barrier between us go I’d crumble in front of him and let him devour whatever was left of me. 

“You deserve someone who won’t cower in a loveless relationship because they are too afraid to pursue the love of their lives, because they’re scared they’ll disappoint you. I already did. I know.” He sighed, his thumb caressing my cheek with the lightest of touches. 

“You especially deserve someone who doesn’t hide all the time, despite wanting to break free every time you smile or glance my way.” His eyes searched mine, trying to make me see the sincerity in them, but I refused to acknowledge it. This time, I was the one who refused to let him in. 

I broke the connection between our gazes, looking down. I heard his sigh, feeling its echoes on the walls of my heart. 

“I know I lost my opportunity with you,” he whispered, his voice laced with so much pain I had to bite back a whine. “But as soon as I heard the news, as soon as I figured it out… I didn’t even feel angry or sad. I know I should have felt miserable. In a way, I lost a son tonight. But all I could think about was that night I told you I’d be stuck in my office all night grading papers, when in fact I just didn’t want to go home and deal with Olivia, and you appeared with pizza and my favorite bottle of wine, despite the fact that I know that you had Smith’s exam the next day. You stayed with me all night, making idle talk that distracted me to the point I forgot I was engaged and that I had someone waiting for me back home. All I could think about was how that is how it should be. That’s how I should feel every night when I come home. But I only felt it with you. And now that I was given this second chance, this opportunity to go back to a life without the responsibility of being a father, forever connected to a woman I don’t love, I could finally have what I wanted. You.”

My eyes had closed sometime during his remembrance, lost in the flashback too. I had fallen asleep sometime during the early hours of the morning and he took off his jacket to cover me, as I lay on the sofa of his office. The same couch I had found him asleep so many times, as well. I still hugged myself, at last starting to believe he might feel the same way as I did. 

I felt a cold kiss against my forehead, one of his hands gripping my nape tightly to him before letting go. “But I should have known I lost my opportunity. You will find happiness in a relationship sometime soon, with someone good, someone who deserves you and I will be here, wishing you all the best because you deserve it.” I heard his footsteps walking away from me. I wanted to turn around, to open my eyes, to pull him to me and talk about this, talk about how I was feeling about this whole situation, but I felt stuck. And then I heard it.

“Because I love you,” he heaved and suddenly I was not frozen anymore. I was connected to him again, our lips furiously dancing together as I clung to him for dear life. He moaned against my mouth and I felt as if the flames of hell had come to consume me in that precise moment.

His hands slowly traveled down my back until they found my ass. He pulled me to him and I jumped, wrapping my legs around him as I caught onto his signal. My own hands were occupied, one pulling on his hair as I tried to win control over our kiss while the other supported me around his shoulders.

He wobbled a bit, blindly walking backward until his back hit the wall. He turned around then, supporting me against it as he once again disconnected our lips to catch his breath, pressing his forehead to mine once more. “Are you sure about this?” I couldn’t help but to slur, my fingers holding the edge of his button-up shirt tightly. “I can’t be just a revenge plot against your wife, Henry. I honestly don’t think I can take it,” I confessed, inciting the tiniest of smiles on the corner of his lips.

“Darling, you couldn't be more wrong,” he whispered against my lips, quickly kissing them before continuing. “I am the one who wouldn’t be able to live without you for a single minute more. I can’t remember how I lived before you, Y/N. I don’t want to remember it. I’d rather die than cause you pain and make you leave me. I know how lucky I am for getting this second chance.”

I accepted his words, not being able to deal with the separation of our lips another second. We were eager now, trying to make up for all the time we had to keep our desires in check. His hands held my jaw as he possessed my mouth and I clung to his shirt tightly as I tried to deal with the desire burning my lower belly. 

“I have never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly,” I admitted, licking my lips as he chuckled, caressing my cheek as he laid warm open-mouthed kisses against the skin of my neck.

“I have never wanted to fuck anyone this badly,” he confessed, biting in a particular spot in my neck that made my legs feel like jelly. “But tonight I think I will make love to you first.”

His eyes searched mine then, looking for any sign of indecisiveness, but there was none. I knew I wanted him since he first smiled at me, three years before. I kissed his thumb that played with my cheeks, nodding my acceptance to his proposal.

“I love you too,” I finally professed and he rewarded me with the sweetest of smiles.

Henry’s P.O.V.

I captured her lips again, not quite believing this turn of events. I finally had her. She was finally mine. 

We kissed feverishly, our hands never stopping too long in one single place. It was like she felt it too, this need to feel every piece of skin, of guaranteeing the other person was really there, was actually real. Before long, I felt her trembling hands make their way inside my shirt and I sighed, barely believing this was real. She pulled on the fabric and I all but ripped the buttons off of my work shirt before throwing it somewhere behind me and returning my focus on the exploration of the gorgeous woman that was now looking at me with those wide eyes I loved so much.

“Don’t give me that look,” I warned her, only receiving the cheekiest of smiles as a response and a growl rose from under my chest. I pulled her to meet my lips again, this time taking us away from the wall and into the old leather couch just behind us. I laid her carefully on the warm material, pushing away a few rebellious strands of hair that insisted on shielding her eyes from mine.

For a few seconds, we simply stared at one another, our eyes silently communicating what our mouths didn’t seem to be able to speak in the moment. She looked so beautiful, even more than I already thought she did, with her lips red from my assault and a dark bruise already forming in her silky skin from my bite. 

I had to take a few deep breaths to control myself, already feeling my pants tighten as the reality of what was to happen hit me. Y/N licked her lips, her eyes showing every bit the same desire I felt run through my veins. “Like what you see?” she teased me, earning a breathy laugh that let on how nervous I actually felt. 

“You have no idea,” I admitted, leaning down to kiss her forehead sweetly before laying kisses across her face, over her lids, on each side of her cheeks, on the tip of her nose before deciding to nibble on her jaw. She shivered, her hands coming up to my curls once again, holding me to her. 

I inhaled the sweet perfume that often overtook my senses whenever she was near me. It was like an aphrodisiac to me, it never failed to get me hard. Many times I had to abruptly leave her talking by herself to tend to my member in my bathroom, imagining my hands were hers.

“You make me crazy,” I confessed, my voice hoarse as I continued my path across her skin, now licking her neck, trying not to lose my mind over the tremulous moans she let escape every time I discovered a particular spot that seemed to get to her. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Teasingly, I bit right over one of her collarbones, immediately regretting my taunt as her hands found the bulge in my pants and rubbed it. 

“I could say the same thing,” she retaliated, tongue stuck between her teeth as she watched with focused interest as I threw my head back and groaned. 

“Damnit, woman, I’m trying to make this last,” I tried to lecture her, failing spectacularly as she managed to pop my button and reach inside my boxers to find me, bare and hot, pulsing for her. 

“Not interested,” she raised her back off the couch, forcing me to sit back on my heels, as she took control of the situation. “I’ve waited too long for this. If you want to make love to me, as you say, do it quickly, I need you now.” 

It was impossible not to react to her. This sweet, bubbly woman, suddenly dominant and sure of herself and what she wanted. Fuck, if that didn’t make her even sexier to my eyes. 

Still, I managed to control myself, slowly caressing her thighs with my trembling fingers until I reached the edge of her nightgown, raising it up as I continued my path across her body. Her heavy breasts came into view, her nipples hard and begging for attention. I was quick to connect my lips to one, caressing the other with one of my hands.

She moaned then, her hands coming up to pull on my hair once more as she ground down against me and I groaned at the sensation of her wet panties against my member. I had half a mind to pull my jeans all the way down, take her to bed, do this sweetly and romantically like I had planned I would do if I had the opportunity to lay with her at least once, but she was making this too difficult for me. Her tiny whimpers escaped her lips freely as I changed nipples, slightly biting on one, making her throw her head back and whine.

“Stop teasing me so much,” she begged, rubbing herself against me once more, making the decision for me, as I couldn’t stand to feel her heat and not be inside of her any longer.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I heard him growl before I realized I had finally broken him. In a second, he had thrown himself at me, forcing me to lie down on the couch as I shivered against the cold air as his hands made quick work of my nightgown. When the sounds of his belt coming off at last rang in my ears, I couldn’t help the moan escaping my lips at the realization that this was finally happening.

“I wanted to do this nice and slow, take my time with you, worship your body in the way it deserves to be cherished, but did you allow that?” His voice was so raspy it kept reigniting the goosebumps across my skin, and as his fingers finally pressed my soaking wet panties against that spot that had been throbbing for attention, I felt like I could come right then and there. “Of course not,” he answered himself, his focus directed to where his fingers were now exploring. “Everything has to be done in your time, isn't it, miss Y/L/N?” 

Growing tired of the cotton barrier between us, he finally pulled it aside to softly collect the evidence of what he was doing to me, but didn’t make any movement towards actually relieving me of my needs. “Answer me, darling,” he whispered in my ear as softly as possible, but I knew that tone and it hid danger.

“Y-yes, sir,” I babbled without thinking and by that point, I would do anything to have him inside of me.

“Good girl.” That was all the warning I received before his member pushed its way inside of me, but as it provoked a whole new wave to pour out of me, it wasn’t as difficult as it would have been otherwise. Still, it took me some time to relax and allow his full length to penetrate me, as it was considerably large and thick.

I gasped as the head of his cock bumped my cervix. “There you go, sweetheart.” He smiled down at me, giving a quick peck to my temple. “I knew you’d be able to take it.”

I moaned at his words, incredibly excited about the fact that he apparently knew I had a praise kink. Maybe I wasn’t as cautious as I thought I was being when he complimented my work? There was no way I would dwell on this any longer, however, as he finally started to slowly thrust in and out of me, his little grunts and pants making me all the more horny.

“You’re so tight, baby girl,” he groaned, throwing his head back for a second, his eyes closed, giving me the perfect opportunity to admire his jaw and neck. “I don’t know how I managed to fit inside of you, but let me tell you…” his head had returned to my ear, before finding a nook on my neck and hiding there. “Now that I’m here, I’m never gonna leave,” he whispered against my skin, picking up his thrusts just as I started to need a little more from him.

“Good,” I managed to moan out, to which he chuckled. He continued to fuck me against my couch, permanently ruining my pussy and the fabric underneath us, as our juices slowly dripped onto it. It didn’t take long for him to bring me close to the edge, and I was trembling in his arms after a few seconds of feeling the head of his cock bumping against my sweet spot.

“Feeling needy, baby girl? Do you want to cum?” I struggled to nod, but it seemed to suffice him. “Then come for me, darling. I’m right behind you. Cum for me.” His thumb found my bundle of nerves and just like that, I was falling down the pits of desire. Throwing my head back, I pulled his chest to me, my nails certainly leaving marks across his back for him to remember me later on.

I absentmindedly noticed the sounds I was making, but as my walls throbbed around his cock, I was too far gone to care. Henry kissed the side of my face as I came until I was capable of focusing my gaze on him once more. As I did, I found him looking at him with a particular glint in his eyes, a look so soft that made my heart feel twice the normal size.

“Is it possible to love too much?” He asked, and I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came. Instead, he simply adjusted to be able to speed up into me, now fucking me into my couch in a way that made it sure I would never be able to sit in it without thinking about him again. I heard his groans of pleasure as he reached his own high, and I felt him spill into me as he did so.

We stayed connected as he calmed down. As we both calmed down, because my heart was still beating as fast as if I had been running a marathon. After a while, he kissed my shoulder and sat up, his cock leaving me. “You’re perfect,” he whispered into the night.

I followed his movements, also sitting up on the couch, enjoying how he immediately pulled me into his lap, like he couldn’t bear the thought of our skins not touching. The rain had almost stopped, I realized. No more lightning or thunder had echoed throughout the house for a long while.

“Do you really love me?” I found myself whispering into the quiet of the night. For a few seconds, he said nothing, but then he was pushing me away from his chest just enough so that he could stare back at me. 

“You ask me like you have given me any other option.” My giggles echoed throughout the house.

“I love you too.” And for once, everything felt right.

[p1harmonyofficial]

[📰] P1Harmony May Be New to K-Pop, But They're Beauty Experts

By Devon Abelman

"Pots-and-pans music" is what Keeho, the leader of P1Harmony, lovingly calls the K-pop group's songs. They're loud, explosive, and essentially caffeine mainlined through your eardrums — all in the best way possible, of course.

"Because our music is so strong, we try to portray that in our hair and makeup as well," Keeho continues. "For me, my hair is all slicked back for our new song, 'Scared,' and our makeup is a lot darker than [for our debut single,] 'Siren.'"

In fact, Jongseob, P1Harmony's youngest member, adds their strikingly different hair colors, like Theo's whimsical light pink, Intak's sleek jet black, and Keeho's enigmatic navy blue, balance each other out and express the range of emotions portrayed in their lyrics and melodies.

But this is just a basic overview of P1Harmony and the intense aesthetic they've been building for the past six months since debuting in October 2020. In advance of the release of their new EP, Disharmony: Break Out, today, April 20, I sat down with the rookie K-pop group via Zoom to get a deeper look at each member, their individual relationships to beauty, and how they are choosing to present themselves now that they are on the world's stage.

Keeho

When I ask Keeho which P1Harmony song fits his personality best, he replies, "You can't really fit me in a box like that. There are various characters I can be." The 19-year-old from Canada even wears many hats throughout our interview. Not only is Keeho the group's official leader, but he's also their unofficial translator, color commentator, and storyteller — he truly has an aside or anecdote to share about everything.

The first tale Keeho tells dates back to second grade, when he begged his mom to let him get blonde streaks in his hair. "I was that kid in class," he remarks.

Then, Keeho delves into how his family introduced him to the wonders of beauty growing up. His mom, in particular, made him "do a five-, six-step skin-care routine," he recalls. Every morning before school, he'd splash his face with warm water ("must be warm water, so you open up the pores") and wash up with cleansing foam. Then, he'd rinse it off with cold water ("so you close them").  Although this isn't scientifically true, I'm glad this worked for him.

When layering on his serums and creams, "the first one you need to do is the most liquidy one and the last one you need to do is the one that is not liquidy at all," Keeho recalls his mom instructing him — a fact I confirm for him. Also, she'd tell him to never rub his skin-care products on, only pat.  

Last but not least, Keeho would (and still does) reach for sunscreen — "always sunscreen," he emphasizes. "My mom said, 'If you don't put it on, you're going to age like a raisin.'"

Keeho's older sister, on the other hand, brought him into the world of makeup by employing him as her guinea pig for testing out new looks. "I would let my sister put makeup on me all the time," Keeho says, mentioning Halloween as a common occasion for her artistry. They even playfully filmed YouTube beauty tutorials and challenges together.

One aspect of beauty Keeho has yet to try is a manicure, but he's ready to dive into that realm. "I think it would be fun," he says. A$AP Rocky's eye nail art that he showed off front row at Prada back in October 2019 is Keeho's major inspiration.

Intak

Another unofficial title Keeho has taken on within P1Harmony is hairstylist. Intak, the group's 17-year-old charismatic rapper and star dancer, credits him for his hair-care routine. "I learned how to use hair serum to volumize my hair when I go out," Intak says. Keeho goes on to explain that they both have incredibly dry hair, so he recommended his favorite moisturizing products to Intak and told him to rake them through his hair while it's still wet and only slightly towel-dried. Intak was so pleased with the result that he went out and bought the same products that day.

Although he has kept his hair black throughout his career so far, Intak is quick to share he's very experimental with beauty. For performances in the past, he's adorned his eyes with bloody scratch-like liner and ultra-sooty smoky eyes. Plus, you're about to see some cheek art on him and dramatically flushed cheeks.

Unlike Keeho, Intak didn't get into skin care until after debuting. "I've started visiting the dermatologist frequently," he says. "They gave me a set [of products] that includes [everything I need]." His favorite is a mask infused with avocado and peppermint, like the Tonymoly I'm Real Avocado Mask Sheet or Skinfood's Pear Mint Food Mask, which quenches his dehydrated skin.

Jiung

Spoken like a true Libra, Jiung is the first to mention he enjoys expressing himself through beauty and fashion. "[They are] really important things," the 19-year-old explains in English. "I always try to learn how to express myself that way. So the more I know, the more I can do."

However, when I ask Jiung what kinds of looks he feels the most confident in, he laughs before taking time to think about it. (In the meantime, Keeho shares he knows what he, personally, is least confident in: T-shirts, due to his long arms.) "This is hard," Jiung groans. I must say his short honey-blonde hair — a look he's always been curious about trying — is definitely bringing out a particularly magnetic side of him, as seen in the P-side track video for "If You Call Me."

When he was younger, Jiung dabbled in all different kinds of haircuts, colors, and perms, he lists off. The latter of which he looks forward to trying out again now as a K-pop star.

When the members were just trainees, Keeho helps Jiung recount a time when he wanted to fill in his eyebrows. "He did not how to do it at all," Keeho says. "He got a Sharpie and started coloring in his eyebrows. It was devastating, to say the least, for the people who had to see it."

"It was art," Jiung interjects. Now, he proudly declares he has a proper brow powder.

Theo

Theo, P1Harmony's straightforward vocalist, is admittedly a sneakerhead. He strictly wears Jordans, according to Keeho's translation. Air Jordan 1s are Theo's favorite style, but he can't pick a color that he's the biggest fan of. He can tell you what he feels least confident in, though: shorts and short-sleeved shirts. So if you barely see Theo in summery clothes, now you know why. (However, he doesn't offer up an exact explanation.)

Since elementary school, the now-19-year-old has permed and colored his hair every shade of ROYGBIV, including red, gray, and even blue for one summer break — all thanks to his mom, who is a hairstylist. This is a revelation even many of the other members weren't privy to, much to the chagrin of Keeho. "It's annoying me right now because his hair is healthy," he remarks. "My hair looks like a broom."

Knowing his hair is healthy comes as a shock to me, though, as Theo has gone from white-blonde to rosy-pink over the past six months. (Let's be real, that's a transformation few people's hair can handle.) He's also been able to grow out hair; it falls past his eyebrows and is starting to graze his shoulders in the back.

Honestly, Theo is ready for it to be short again, he shares. "I like my long hair, but I don't like it being in my face," he asserts. "I can't really maintain it. I bleached it so much that it flips in all different directions."

Soul

Before our interview officially started, the members and I exchanged weird facts about ourselves to get to know each other better beyond our beauty routines. Keeho revealed his left eyebrow has been twitching lately, and he needs to cuddle a body pillow to fall asleep. Intak has a freckle on his finger that his grandma often mistakes for dirt and tries to wipe off. Jiung had pet geckos, scorpions, and tarantulas growing up. Jongseob loves mint chocolate. Theo can't burp, and Soul enjoys petting insects.

But that's not the weirdest thing about him or any of the members. The strangest thing about the boys is that "Soul doesn't do anything at all [for his skin-care routine], and his skin is actually pretty good," Keeho says. (You can scroll through Soul's selfies on P1Harmony's Twitter to confirm this, but spoiler: His complexion is immaculate.)

Soul, 16, goes on to explain that his skin is incredibly dry and sensitive, so much so that even cleansing makes his face turn red and any bit of friction causes bumps to form. Needless to say, he's scared to put anything on his face. "I just do cleansing foam and leave it at that," Soul admits. Makeup isn't off the table, though. Soul is no stranger to subtle washes of pink shadow on his lids and fake eyebrow piercings made out of silver studs.

Although Soul is seemingly one of the shyest members and keeps to himself for most of the interview, he's an intense rockstar at heart. He favors P1Harmony's more aggressive, hard-hitting songs, like their new title song, "Scared."

Raise your hand if you'd like to see Soul with thick, black kohl or graphic blue liner and long, raven hair, perhaps paired with a studded leather jacket over a ripped-up T-shirt. OK, great; I'm not the only one. For now, we'll have to appreciate his bob-length ashy-blonde hair.

Jongseob

Other than his nuggets of knowledge about the way P1Harmony reflects their music in their hair and makeup, Jongseob mostly listens throughout the interview. Luckily, the 15-year-old rapper/songwriter did pipe up to share his skin-care routine.

First, Jongseob double-cleanses to remove his makeup, starting with cleansing oil and following up with a foam cleanser. Serum is slathered on next, then moisturizer. When his skin is feeling especially dry, Jongseob layers a gel cream on top as a sleeping mask — a tactic I'd never considered before. Typically, I reach for them in reverse order.

Jongseob's hair has also been through the wringer since P1Harmony's debut. Last October, he colored his hair lilac and gradually went darker shades of purple until it was an electric violet hue. Most recently, though, his dye job has been a fiery orange. Next, Jongseob says he wants to try gray with an ash tone.

And this is just the beginning of P1Harmony's journey through the mystical world of K-pop beauty. This time next year, they're sure to have experimented with even bolder, brighter, and more eccentric looks. For now, you can check out a teaser for their brand-new music video for "Scared" of their latest EP, Disharmony: Break Out, below.

[the8gates]

The Shadow Lengthens

Atsuko Kamiyama, a master of Genjutsu and a former trainer for Itachi Uchiha is left to care for Sasuke after the Uchiha Massacre. She soon finds herself in over her head with raising the young boy and navigating her love life at the same time. As things progress, and frankly get much worse, she will be left with several life altering decisions.

I'm writing this fic because I couldn't find anything else like it and ya know what they say, write what you want to read. Plan on sticking to canon as close as possible. I just wanted to provide Sasuke with a parental figure throughout the show and work out some kind of patchwork family in the process. Self-Indulgent 100% with lots of fluff in the beginning, angst, and some down and out trauma. Please let me know what you think!

Read Chapter 1 under the cut!

Chapter 1: An Early Meeting and A Heavy Request

They had sent Kakashi Hatake to retrieve her. Early in the morning, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, there was a knock at the door and, before she had much time to wake up, she was being escorted to the office of the Third Hokage.

As she attempted to rub her eyes to life with the palms her hands, they walked.

“So, why am I being summoned again?”

She asked through a yawn. Being up this early was never a good thing. The usually lively streets were still empty and, aside from the stray clank of pots and groans of floorboards, completely silent. The streetlights were still on, buzzing lightly and reminding her that they were in the purgatory of the day. There was a peacefulness in being up before the rest of the world had a chance to open their eyes. However, it also managed to feel like the loneliest time of day.

“They wouldn’t give me all the details but claimed it was urgent. I just returned from a mission or I wouldn’t be up either.”

Kakashi replied, clearly also uncomfortable by the situation. She didn’t know him well, but she did know he had a habit of being late. Showing up to meetings and training sessions sometimes hours late. For him to retrieve her immediately at the Hokage’s request? Something was definitely strange and, the more she thought about it, the more her stomach turned.

“Well, it better be pretty damn urgent to interrupt my beauty sleep.”

She scoffed, trying to lighten the mood and wake herself up a little. The man beside her let out a half chuckle and she smiled ahead in turn. She may not have known much about Kakashi but she had admired him from afar. He was always alone, nose in a book, walking leisurely with a single hand in his pocket. Quiet and reserved. Making him laugh, even if it was more like a release of air from his nose, was a win in her book.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. As they got closer to their destination, the sun rose and people began to filter out into the streets. The village began to thrum with life, ever so slightly, but steadily. She found that, by the time they reached the double doors to the Hokage’s office, she was also perking up.

Kakashi opened the door for her and she moved past him. In front of her sat the Third Hokage, Danzō Shimura, and the two elder advisors, Mitokado and Utatane. That wasn’t so strange. The part that made her nervous was that there were no other Shinobi. No Anbu like Danzō usually travelled with. No guards of any kind. Any of the calmness she had gathered during her quiet stroll with Kakashi was sapped from her in an instant.

The Hokage was the first to speak.

“Thank you, Kakashi. You may excuse yourself.”

With that, Kakashi gave a subtle bow and shut the door he had previously held open for her. She snapped her head back forward, looking at the council in front of her and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s this about?”

She asked, a tinge of apprehension in her voice. She was a shinobi, trained to keep her cool in any situation, but her palms were sweating.

“Please, have a seat.”

This time, it was Utatane who spoke. She did as she was told, taking a seat in the chair placed in the middle of the room, crossing her legs to keep from bouncing them. After a few beats of silence and awkward tension, the sound of lips parting in preparation was overwhelmingly loud. She turned her head in the direction of the noise.

“I suppose there is no easy way to say this. Last night, the entire Uchiha clan was wiped out.”

Danzō stated, as if he was unphased by the words he spoke. Her eyes widened, mouth dropping open and immediately looking to the Hokage and advisors for confirmation. Lord Hokage nodded, a solemn expression on his face. The entire clan… Sasuke... Itachi… her heart was pounding in her ears and she could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly. She moved her lips to form words… anything. A question. Something. Before she could manage a sound, Lord Hokage spoke up.

“We still don’t know much, but it seems like Itachi Uchiha was responsible for the attack and has since fled the village.”

Itachi? No. That wasn’t possible. He couldn't do something like that. No. Maybe the right phrasing is he wouldn’t do something like that. Still, her heart sank. She knew they weren’t lying to her.

“All of them?”

She asked, voice hoarse and mouth dry. Her eyes bounced between each person in front of her frantically.

“Sasuke Uchiha is the sole survivor.”

It was Danzō speaking again. Her hand came up to cover her open mouth, eyes squeezing shut in disbelief and anguish. If Sasuke truly was the only survivor… Itachi really must have done this. Why? Why would he slaughter his own clan and leave his younger brother the only survivor? It just didn’t make sense. Itachi was powerful, yes, but he was calm and wise well beyond his years. He never bragged about his abilities, even when he had every right to. He thought things through and was careful when he spoke. He wouldn’t just snap like that… She genuinely couldn’t understand what would cause him to do something like this. Except… defending the village and Sasuke. Those were his biggest motivations, clear to anyone who happened to look him in the eyes. Had the Uchiha clan done something to hurt Sasuke or the village? No… maybe she just didn’t know Itachi as well as she thought. Maybe he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, waiting for the right moment to strike and demonstrate the extent of his power… taking out an entire clan was incredible. Maybe that was his goal all along...

She realized her thoughts were racing and she was beginning to lose her cool. There would be time for that later, in the privacy of her own home. Now, she had to focus. She was called here for a reason. She took several deep breaths before removing her hand from her face, inhaling deeply through her nose and opening her eyes with the exhale. She had to keep it together, especially in the presence of the Hokage and the village elders. When she raised her head back up, she met the eyes of each person for a brief moment.

“Then, have I been called in to track down Itachi?”

She questioned. It was the only thing that made sense and was really the only thought she could grasp as her mind whirled with questions. She had trained Itachi in Genjutsu for several years. She knew him well and knew how to best counter his Sharingan. Surely he had already been declared a rogue ninja and they needed someone with intimate knowledge of his abilities to assist in recovering him. Her brain was working in high gear already, conceiving all of the places Itachi could have fled to and what his explanation for this would be when-

“No, that’s not why we have called you here.”

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lord Hokage. She realized she had unfocused her eyes as she was lost in thought. She snapped her eyes up to meet his, furrowing her brow.

“You think I’m involved?”

She questioned again, but even that sounded ridiculous. Lord Hokage shook his head and she was truly confused.

“Then why am I here?”

This meeting wasn’t just to break the news to her. They needed something from her. If they didn’t, she would have found out like everyone else. Grapevine gossip. What exactly was going on here?

“Sasuke Uchiha is the last remaining member of the Uchiha clan. He is young and especially vulnerable. We are unsure why Itachi left him as the only survivor when he struck down even his own parents. You trained Itachi in Genjutsu for a number of years and are well integrated in that family. We have called you here to let you know that, since he has no living relatives, Sasuke will be turned over to your care.”

Her eyes widened at the Hokage’s words. Turned over to her care? What exactly did that entail? Yes, she had trained Itachi for a number of years and she had known Sasuke since he was born but… she was never a guardian for Itachi. She was a teacher and family friend. That’s all.

“I don’t understand. Why me? What do you mean turned over to my care?”

“We selected you for several reasons. You have deep ties with their family thanks to your training of Itachi for the majority of his young life. You also have intimate knowledge of the Sharingan that most do not. We believe you can assist Sasuke in mastering his ability. Ensuring he can protect himself and, someday, rebuild his clan so the Sharingan trait doesn’t die out. Turn over to your care meaning you will become Sasuke’s caretaker and sensei from here out. This is considered an S-Rank mission that will be considered complete once Sasuke reaches Genin level.”

Lord Hokage finished, not giving her any particular look. Her brows still furrowed, she considered this heavily. It was strange how he started by tugging her heartstrings, playing on her connection to Sasuke and Itachi, then ended by advising her it was a mission. This meant it was not optional. He was making sure his bases were covered so she couldn’t deny or argue against this… mission. It still didn’t make sense. As far as she knew, the Hokage and the council were not particularly in charge of re-homing orphans. In fact, they were typically left to fend for themselves. Like Naruto Uzumaki. He was the last remaining member of his clan and the son of the Fourth Hokage. Yet she knew he had no guardian and was left to live alone his entire life. He was even the same age as Sasuke.

She directed her eyes back at the Third Hokage, brows still furrowed and eyes narrowed.

“And if I refuse?”

She was testing the waters with that question. There was something they weren’t telling her. This wasn’t just about concern over Sasuke’s wellbeing. All of her nervousness and sorrow was replaced with a deep skepticism.

“Unfortunately, that’s really not an option. You have been selected for this mission and it is one that must be fulfilled.”

Danzō stated. A thinly veiled threat that didn’t scare her much. She turned her distrusting face to him.

“So, even if I refuse, Sasuke will be placed with me. What if I leave the village or refuse to train him outright?”

More than testing the waters now. That was a full threat of insubordination. It’s not that she didn’t want to take in Sasuke. He was a sweet boy and, if Itachi was any indication, would grow up to be a powerful Shinobi. She was more so fishing for information. Trying to get them in a position to answer all her questions.

“If you are saying that you intend to leave the village to avoid a mission you have been assigned, then you will not make it out the doors of this office. You will be deemed a rogue Shinobi and arrested immediately.”

Danzō replied and she gave him a crooked grin, challenging him.

“You make the mistake of assuming that the person in front of you is nothing more than illusion. If I wished to leave the village without raising alarm, I would do so successfully.”

“Enough!”

Lord Hokage spoke up finally, clearly tired of the threats and animosity. She tore her eyes away from Danzō’s to focus back on the Hokage.

“I’ve heard enough. Miss Kamiyama, this mission is of the utmost importance and, to put it simply, you cannot refuse.”

Of course not. She wouldn’t have anyway. Maybe he was calling her bluff. With a sigh, she sat back in her chair, not realizing the exchange with Danzō had caused her to sit forward and uncross her legs. As she settled back into position, smoothing her hands down her pants, she spoke again.

“I apologize for the outburst, Lord Hokage. However, I still fail to see the logic behind this decision. On paper, yes, I would be the ideal candidate for caring for and training Sasuke. I just wonder why you and the council have suddenly started to care about the well-being of young orphans in this village.”

It was the Hokage’s turn to sigh.

“I’m not sure what you mean by that. We do everything we can to make sure the children in this village are safe and cared for-“

She interrupted him immediately.

“Naruto Uzumaki?”

“Just what are you suggesting?”

She rolled her eyes, a clear sign of insubordination and disrespect. At this point, they were essentially forcing her to raise a child. The least she could do is not give in without a fight.

“That boy has been alone since birth. He is left to his own devices and, because of the nine tails sealed inside him, is treated like dirt by just about everyone in this village. He was not appointed a guardian or trainer to help guide him when he is obviously in desperate need of one. So, why is Sasuke a special case?”

There was silence from the entire board. Check mate. The answer was, on paper and with the information they had presented her, Sasuke was not a special case. The defense that his Sharingan was to be protected fell apart when you compared it to a child with a demon sealed inside him being left alone his whole life. Whatever they weren’t telling her had to be detrimental to their case. As the silence started to become heavy, she spoke again.

“You are asking me to give away years of my life to raise a child who is not mine. While I care for Sasuke and want to see him succeed, I also value my own time and life. I believe I am owed compensation in the form of answers. If I don’t receive them, then I suppose you may as well label me a rogue Shinobi right along with Itachi.”

There was no malice in her voice this time. She was stating simple facts. If they didn’t provide her with the truth, she would recall the clone that sat in front of them and leave the village. Now, whether or not they called her bluff was up to them. Looking at the expressions they were sharing with one another, however, she doubted they would. Danzō being the one exception. He was stoic as ever, but his Chakra pulsed. Clearly agitated by her outright disrespect.

As this standoff continued, the sun had rose fully. She could hear the bustle of the village. People chattering. The floors in the halls outside of the Hokage’s office started to creak as Shinobi moved through. Children laughing… her heart ached against her wishes. The thought of Itachi… murdering his entire clan and of Sasuke, alone and probably terrified at this very moment. She was downplaying her relationship with them in her conversation with the Council. She cared for both Itachi and Sasuke deeply enough to give her life for them. Itachi was a brilliant student and a thoughtful, calm, boy. He had brought Sasuke along to more than half of their training sessions. He would sit on the sidelines and watch in awe of his older brother. Even offered to be placed under a Genjutsu several times when Itachi needed to practice. Whatever Itachi did in those Genjutsu’s always left Sasuke in a fit of boyish giggles. As her training with Itachi progressed, she was invited to dinner at the family home and their mother even tried to set her up on a couple dates with the of age Uchiha men… they had become like a family to her over the years. To think they were all dead by Itachi’s hand… her chest tightened and that physical reaction caused her to snap back to reality.

Thankfully, she hadn’t ducked her head this time while she was lost in thought. She was still staring straight ahead at the Hokage when he finally spoke and broke the silence.

“Fair enough, Miss Kamiyama. If you would like to know the truth as to why we are requesting this of you, I will give you the answers you seek.”

He said it like the words were being physically being pulled from him. The elder advisors exchanged a worried look but turned back to face her either way. She perked up, straightening her back, and nodded for him to continue.

“However, understand this. Once we have told you the truth, if you were to ever repeat a word of this to anyone it would cause many issues for the village. Even, perhaps, some kind of uprising. If you ever speak on this to anyone, we will deny the accusations and you will be imprisoned for the remainder of your life.”

After this warning, she nodded again. If he was trying to scare her it wasn’t working.

“Lord Hokage, I completely understand the repercussions. Rest assured, the information you provide me with today will not leave this room. I simply want to know what I’m agreeing to. That is all.”

She tried to sound as genuine as possible. She did mean what she said. There was never any intention of repeating what they told her. She wanted to know for her own sake. If they were going to ask this of her, the least they could do is tell her the truth. Others would likely take notice as well, but if she had all the answers, a lie would be easy to craft. Something with no holes to be pried open because she would know what bases to cover specifically. It really was the best option from a logical standpoint… with the added benefit of satiating her curiosity.

Lord Hokage nodded, seeming as satisfied with her answer as one could be in his situation.

“Very well. I shall tell you the true story.”

_______________________________________

The silence that followed the conclusion of Lord Hokage’s story seemed to stretch on for an eternity. She could feel her pulse, hammering, in every part of her body. Her throat, burning with the effort of holding back hot tears and everything she wanted to scream at them. Itachi had been forced to make a decision because of the sins of his elders. One of his final requests before leaving the village was that she take care of and train Sasuke and that, if this didn’t happen, he would tell the entire Shinobi world about what they had done. The Uchiha Clan and the council of the Hidden Leaf had placed a child in the middle of their power struggle and because of that…

How… disgusting.

Just when were the adults in this village going to be held responsible for any of their actions? The wars and the hatred they brought, bred into their children and passed on for generations. The cycle would never end… The Uchiha massacre was proof of that. If Sasuke were to never learn the truth, he would hate and seek vengeance against Itachi his entire life. That hatred would consume him. The quest for revenge was one she knew well. She had seen it rot many fine Shinobi from the inside out and, oftentimes, even once the vengeance had been served, it left them hollow. On the other hand, if Sasuke ever did find out the truth, he would seek vengeance against the Hidden Leaf for their manipulation of his brother. He would become exactly what they had tried to eradicate. This was the cycle of hatred. No escape. Predestined.

The strength it was taking for her to remain silent was making her nauseous. After a few more moments of soul sucking silence, she took a deep breath. Despite the anger and sorrow she felt, her mind fell silent. She couldn’t say she was shocked by the information. This was the way of the Shinobi world. Always kill or be killed, no peace or acceptance.

Finally, she gave a single nod of her head, making sure to speak evenly and not allowing her voice to waiver.

“Where is Sasuke?”

Her eyes fell on Lord Hokage again, full of detachment and disdain.

“He is still on the Uchiha clan property.”

She gave another curt nod and stood from her chair, turning her back to exit with no other words. Lord Hokage stopped her right as she grabbed the handle to the door.

“Again, Miss Kamiyama, you must not ever repeat a word of this to anyone. Including Sasuke. The consequences would be-“

She cut him off again, still not looking back, her voice raw from keeping her tongue in check for so long.

“You should not concern yourself. I will take this to my grave. I would be too embarrassed to utter a single word about what occurred.”

There were a few more beats of uncomfortable silence before she finally pushed the door open and made her way out into the hall, letting it swing shut behind her with a bang.

As she made her way to the stairs outside the Hokage Tower, she noticed Kakashi leaning against the railing with a book in his hand. He shut it quickly, taking in her stiff posture and eyes filled with nothing short of murderous intent. He spoke cautiously,

“I was asked to escort you back home as well.”

She shook her head, looking straight through him like he was no more than a mirage.

“That won’t be necessary.”

With that, her clone was recalled and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

As the Jutsu was undone, the clone's memories came flooding back. In an overload of information, she sat up straight in her bed with a gasp, barely making sense of it all. She threw the covers off and began pulling her clothes on at lightning speed. She could process everything else later, getting to Sasuke right now was priority number one. Rushing out through her bedroom window, she leaped across rooftops as quickly as possible.

As she arrived at the Uchiha clan archway, she noticed the police tape lines and moved over them. This time, she ran towards the only place Sasuke could be. The pathways that were usually so lively with clan members were empty and desolate. The smell of iron filled her nostrils and pools of dried blood littered the streets. Her head began to swim with thoughts of the kind boy she once knew, slaughtering his kin. Of Sasuke witnessing all of this carnage. Against her will, tears began to well in her eyes. She tried desperately to blink them away but her body wouldn’t allow it, they just kept coming.

When she finally reached Sasuke’s home, she called out for him.

“Sasuke!”

Despite her desperation, she opened the front door slowly, afraid of what she may find inside. Nothing in the foyer, no Sasuke and no blood. She called his name again inside the house, no response. Moving back outside to the rear of the house, her head whipped around, searching.

Then she saw him. Standing in a doorway with his back to her, head ducked down as he stared at the floor. She approached slowly so as not to frighten him.

“Sasuke…”

His head immediately shot up, whipping around to see who was behind him. His large, dark, eyes were spilling over with tears. His bottom lip trembled and her heart fully broke. Immediately, he broke into a sprint towards her, wiping at his eyes with small hands.

“Atsuko sensei!”

He cried, voice cracking. She dropped to her knees immediately as he reached her. He threw his arms around her neck and she drew him, an arm around his torso and her hand on the back of his head, holding him tightly to her chest. She squeezed her own, teary, eyes shut as he sobbed against her. The sound of his small voice as he cried filled her with so much pain she could hardly stand it. Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried desperately to regain some strength for him. Burying her nose in his hair and kissing the top of his head, she drew in a shaky breath. She turned her head back up and looked at the spot where he previously stood, finally seeing what he had been staring at. Two large, overlapping, bloodstains.

As hard as she tried to hold it in, a choked sob tore its way out of her throat. She held him tighter, finally letting her resolve go and crying into his hair.

“Oh Sasuke… I’m so sorry…”

She whispered, voice full of sorrow. This made the boy in her arms sob harder and she cursed herself internally. Here was another adult, crying in the arms of a child. With a couple sniffles and some deep breaths, she regained her composure. Rubbing Sasuke’s back softly, she gave him all the time he needed to be vulnerable. Allowing him to sob and scream and pound her chest with tiny fists. All the while making a silent vow to never, ever, see him hurt like this again. It tore her heart into pieces, seeing him like this. He was always such a happy child. Sweet and beautiful with his big curious eyes and unfiltered smile. Damn the Third Hokage. Damn Danzō. Damn the Uchiha Clan. Damn them all to hell for hurting this child.

They stayed this way for some time. Until Sasuke decided to pull away from her, wiping at his eyes and standing on his own two feet again. He stared down at the ground and she finally got a good look at him. His sleeve was torn and there was a cut on his upper arm. He was covered in dirt and specks of blood. Long tear stains ran down his cheeks, eyes puffy and red from crying. She reached out and wiped away some of the tears from his face with her sleeves and he finally looked up at her again. God his eyes… he’d aged over night.

She pushed past the gut wrenching ache that realization brought and gave him a sad smile, speaking softly and trying not to shock him.

“Sasuke… you’re gonna come stay with me for a while, if that’s alright?”

So many things had been decided for him in the past 24 hours. The least she could do was let him know he had a choice. If he didn’t want to come with her, she wouldn’t force him. Secrets of the Hidden Leaf be damned. Still, the boy nodded with a sniffle, wiping his nose with his shirt.

“C‘mon. Let’s get some of your things and I’ll take you home to get cleaned up…”

She stood slowly, leaning down to pick him up and hold him like before, his head buried in her neck. She walked back into the house and to his room, gathering clothes and other items and tossing them into a book bag one handed. She didn’t want to put him down. To force him to walk or look at his surroundings. He’d seen enough. Tossing the bag over her free shoulder, they left the house.

“We can come back if you want in a couple days if there’s anything… special you need.”

He sniffled again, nodding his head against her neck in response. With that, she started the trek back to her home. Or rather, their home.

Read the rest on AO3! This story is already 17 chapters long and I upload a new chapter every Friday! 

[blackjack-15]

Ziplines, Blood Ties, and Colonavirus — Thoughts on: The Silent Spy (SPY)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN, WAC, TOT, SAW, CAP, ASH, TMB, DED, GTH

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with my list of previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: SPY; mentions of the “Nancy Games” (ASH-SPY); SAW; mention of National Treasure (2004).

The Intro:

It’s our penultimate meta, and this time, it’s personal.

In every way, The Silent Spy is the culmination of the Nancy Games. Ever since her trip back home in ASH, Nancy has been increasingly featured in the games, showing us more of her personality, her life, and her backstory — all in an effort to lead up to this story, where we actually delve into Nancy’s place in the world and what it means that she lives in it.

And the answer to that is a lot less wholly idealistic than the franchise would have given 20+ games ago.

I don’t mean to say that SPY is a cynical game — it’s honestly fairly neutral, edging on positive — but that SPY accepts the fundamental truth that all of the Nancy games have been leading up to: that Nancy, though talented, hardworking, and connected, is simply another fish when it comes to the sea of life. She’s not unique in any way that really matters – look at her foils in Alexei, in Jamila, in Deirdre, in Jessalyn — and yet she continues to work hard, to solve puzzles, and to right old wrongs.

At least for me, this is a hopeful message. The point of “Nancy Drew, Girl Detective” is not that no one could do what she does, it’s not that she’s the best, most experienced sleuth in the world, and it’s not that she’s the Last, Best Hope of those who call upon her for aid. The point behind her character is that she’s a relatively normal (if wealthy) girl who does what she can, and chooses to do it again and again.

There’s a wonderful part in the equally wonderful movie National Treasure when our heroes are reading a part of the Declaration — the part talking about the right of the citizens to throw off a despotic government like the British had become — and Ben (Nicholas Cage, actually in a good movie for once!) defines it in modern speech:

“If there’s something wrong, those who have the ability to take action have the responsibility to take action.”

In the beginning of the Nancy Drew games series, Nancy is merely an intuitive puzzle solver. She gets her cases through family connections, turns up at places where mysteries happen to occur, etc. etc. As time goes on and she practices, she eventually comes to the point where she’s being hired for bigger and bigger cases, more and more regularly — in short, she starts to live the truth of that quote. Nancy is, at her core, someone with the ability to take action against things that are Wrong. Throughout this series — and most especially, throughout the “Nancy” games (ASH-SPY), she becomes someone who recognizes her responsibility to take action.

And that’s what’s showcased here in SPY. Upon arriving and learning that she’s been led to Glasgow under false circumstances, Nancy is immediately and wholly over her head — but she’s still someone who has the ability to take action to right a wrong. When she’s working against Revenant, warning the scientist, or reading through secret memo after secret memo, she’s not doing it with the intent to Save the World; she’s finishing Kate Drew’s last task. Her loyalty isn’t to Glasgow, to Cathedral, to MI5, or any other player in this story — her loyalty is to her mother, and to the task Kate Drew died while trying to finish.

Which is, in my view, the best possible motivation in a game that’s all about family.

With that discussion behind us, I want to talk a little bit here about the other theme of this game — power. Revenant, as the terrorist group that they are, want to seize power; their goal is to run Glasgow (branching off from there into a wider sphere, of course) through seizing power during a (self-induced) state of emergency — aka, what’s referred to in-game as the Colony operation.

This is, of course, Politics 101 — whip people up into a frenzy, come in promising to Save Everyone, and entrench yourself in power that you can’t be moved from with any amount of ease. And while Revenant planned it for 2005, it would work even better in 2013, when social media and instant, 24-hour news cycles can keep the fear alive far more effectively than Revenant would have hoped for nearly a decade prior.

Both in 2005 and 2013, Revenant nearly succeeds, only to be foiled by a red-head out of her depth but who tries anyway (the difference between the two, of course, is that Kate was isolated and Nancy had backup). The most startling thing — and one of my favorite things about this game – is that it doesn’t end with Nancy ‘killing’ Revenant once and for all, or even stopping the Colony Operation once and for all. Nancy is, in every way, out of her depth here; she’s not used by either side as an agent, or even as an asset — she is, as Zoe reminds her, a tool, valuable for what she might know, not for her skills, not for who she is, or what she works for.

As the games from TOT on have worked hard to expand Nancy’s world and tie it together, SPY shows the benefit of having a wide-open world: that the world goes on, people live and die, and secretive organizations (ATAC, Revenant, Cathedral, MI5…) plot and scheme to remake the world in their image.

This, in my view, is also a great thing. The thing that Nancy Drew books (and a lot of the early games) get wrong is that Nancy fixes (or is party to fixing) all of the problems introduced. The piano-playing girl that Nancy meets ends up with a Grandmaster as a teacher; the inheritance goes to the Worthy Widow and Her Daughter; Nancy rescues her tied-up father AND solves his case for his client all in one brilliant masterstroke.

That’s not to say that every story should have all of its threads dangling by the end, but Nancy is simply a smart and resourceful girl, working (most of the time) with her own relatively meager resources. She shouldn’t be the answer to the world’s problems, and I think it’s lovely that, especially in the Nancy games, she really isn’t. Nancy is a helper, and that’s far more valuable than being an omniscient, all-powerful being who can magically fix everyone’s problems just by being there.

The last thing I want to talk about in this introduction is how good SPY is for Nancy’s own personal lore. There’s a lot of fuss every time SPY is brought up about how “Nancy’s mom actually died when she was three!!” which, honestly, tells me that the 60s re-writes (which, yes, if you’re pedantic, started in ’59) did more damage than I had previously thought.

The original Nancy Drew books were written in the 30s by various ghostwriters, and were a little different from the yellow-bound 60s rewrites that most people consider the “old Nancy Drew books”. 30s Nancy Drew was a little closer to our games-universe Nancy; brash, outspoken, punishingly independent, and incredibly capable. She’s also a bit violent and unruly, has graduated from school at 16, lost her mother at 10, and does as she pleases with the occasional call home to reassure Carson or (more often) to ask a question about the law.

Sadly, other than taking out a few racial and societal overtones that weren’t really acceptable after 30 years — mostly by taking out any non-white characters and including different forms of bias, note — the yellow rewrites weren’t an improvement to the stories or to Nancy’s character. Nancy becomes less bold, less independent, and far more focused on describing each meal in punishing amounts of detail. The words “kindly” and “sweetly” were increasingly added after “Nancy said”, she’s far more deferential to authority, and her mother instead passes when Nancy is 3, rather than 10.

In changing the form of the media to video games, rather than books, what would eventually become HER had a choice; they could align themselves with the newest Nancy Drew books — the Nancy Drew Files and Nancy Drew on Campus, both of which were known for being Hotter and Sexier (and, in the case of Campus, ridiculously stupid) — or choose what people called “the classics” — the yellow-spine 60s rewrites, as the once-famous blue books had been all but forgotten in the 90s. In the first (and still one of the last, honestly) brilliant move of the series, HER chose to mix and match the things that made for good game fodder from (nearly, given how much the Campus books suck) every written incarnation of Nancy.

And, to their credit, they chose an important fact from the 30s: Nancy’s mother died when she was 10, not when she was 3.

Losing a parent is a defining moment no matter when it happens, but the exact effect often changes based on (among other things) the age of the child. In order for Nancy to be the kind of person who is influenced by the mystery of her mother’s death, her mother had to have died when Nancy could remember — thus, 3 is right out, as Nancy might remember tiny bits and pieces of the events leading up to and right after, but nothing else.

By taking bits and pieces of contrasting (and often contradictory) lore and making their own out of it, HER (and I’m hat-tipping Cathy and Nik especially here, given Nancy’s characterization spike beginning around WAC/TOT) gives us a version of Nancy that’s similar to the sleuth we know and love from the books and movies (ignoring the 2007 disaster) and, occasionally, TV shows, while still keeping her mostly consistent and showing us a few new flashes that make this character stand out and win her place in the Drewniverse.

Now, with all of that said, let’s move on to this game in specific, shall we?

The Title:

The Silent Spy, as a title, is one that is wonderfully mysterious and really makes you want to know more — right up until the title drop within the game itself, at which point it shifts from quite alluring to desperately sad and foreboding.

After all, “the only silent spy is a dead spy.”

As the game really is about our resident Silent Spy — Kate Drew and her actions and legacy — this is really the only title that the game could have had, and it suits it down to the ground, both with its mystery and with its sadness.

In life, Kate Drew was silenced, and in death, she is obviously necessarily silent — but Nancy reads her words, remembers her speech, listens to her voice, and, of course, hears her song, whenever the world is quiet enough. And I think that’s a wonderful dichotomy for the title to introduce before the game has even properly begun.

The Mystery:

Summoned to Scotland by a mysterious message and guided by a photograph of her mother, Nancy arrives ready to retrace her mother’s steps — only to be thrown into a world of espionage, gadgets, untraceable phone calls, and deadly mishaps. Her luggage (and her best clue about her mother) having been stolen, the presence of an old family friend who refuses to talk, an evasive skiptracer, an excitable local, and a clever intelligence agent all work together to ensure that Nancy is off-balance the minute she arrives.

All, of course, is even less what it seems than Nancy is prepared for, and she spends to game gloriously off-balance trying to keep up with the larger forces pushing and pulling her. She needs to retrace her mother’s steps, escape from certain death, dig deep into the pasts and presents of the people she meets, and do some impressive sleuthing of her own to even make the change from tool to player — and even that might not be enough to keep her safe when the dastardly minds at Revenant come a-knocking…

As a mystery — or as a collection of intertwined mysteries, honestly — SPY succeeds at what a lot of other games tried (and ultimately failed, in one way or another), which is to link all the happenings in the game together under one cohesive plot that grows more and more horrifying the more you think about it. GTH has a fandom reputation for fridge horror, but SPY holds its own easily when you consider Kate’s fatal chase, Moira’s abduction and guilt, the threats that Ewan and Alec operate under, and the life that Zoe leads on the regular.

Every action that Nancy takes benefits someone — whether it be Cathedral, Revenant, herself, or an interested third (fourth?) party — without her really meaning to, and the game is great in including another question in every reveal.

The beauty of SPY’s mystery(s) is that it takes careful reading, paying attention, and honestly replaying in order to grasp the enormity of every action. No matter how many times you play or replay, there’s something new to find — a time-sensitive conversation, an implication in a note, a theory behind the presence of a clue or a piece of (what you previously thought to be) set dressing — it honestly is limitless, and it just helps to contribute to the feeling that this is a world that Nancy isn’t meant to truly be fully immersed in.

And speaking of people who are immersed in that world…

The Suspects:

We’ll begin, for organization’s sake, with our out-and-out (current) agents first, then tackle our other suspects, then our Nancy-related people, and finish off with — for the final time in this series, as this is the last “Nancy” game — Nancy herself.

A new, yet returning character, Bridget Shaw is one of the cover identities of Zoe Wolfe — aka Samantha Quick, who Nancy impersonated in VEN and who helped the Hardy Boys in Treasure on the Tracks.

Prior to SPY, I had money for a very long time that Samantha Quick would eventually come into the game, and I was absolutely delighted with her appearance in SPY — where else would she be so well situated? Zoe is snarky, disillusioned, cynical, and sometimes downright nihilistic, but she’s also someone who took up a job that, percentage-wise, no one wants to or is able to do, because she’s alone:

“I work in the field for two reasons: one, I don’t need any help. And two, because no one would miss me if I fell off the grid.”

I love watching the ND games subvert their own formula, and Zoe is a great example of the “helper”-type suspect who really isn’t like your traditional “helper” at all. She’s there to do a job, and if sticking with Nancy helps her to do it, then that’s what she does. But she’s not there to Right some Great Wrong for the warm fuzzies of it all, or even because it’s Just and Right. She’s there because it’s her job, and her job is to play the game.

“It’ll be brief, painful, and full of garbage…but that’s life, isn’t it? And that’s the metaphor I’m riding into the grave.”

Next is our (kind of) double operative and partial culprit, Ewan McLeod (real name Sean Kent Davis) is a clever operative of Cathedral who decided that he wasn’t valued or important anywhere near as much as he should have been, and reached out to Revenant to supply them with information. Summoning Nancy to Scotland, Ewan is easily able to gain a portion of her trust as the Watcher in the Wires and is her tie to the relative safety of Cathedral.

As a culprit, Ewan is — ultimately — pitiable. Not that he’s not an egotist with a victim complex a mile wide, but when you actually look at the situation he’s in, it’s hard not to feel bad for him, even though he did it to himself. Having contacted Revenant, he’s now attempting to hold a tiger by the tail, praying it can’t eat him — and his worst fears come true, as his loved ones are threatened (“trying to keep my friends and family alive”, remember) and he’s discarded and made a target by the terrorists that he tried to use to make himself important.

Given the rather chilling threats made by Revenant, I’m inclined to believe that when we find him tied up, he didn’t do it to himself. Nancy would have noticed if the knots were too loose to have been done by a third party, and we know Revenant told him several times that if he wasn’t useful, he’d be punished.

While Ewan makes terrible choices, he’s also a pawn being played by a larger force — like everyone else in the game — and that is at least worth pity, if not forgiveness.

Next up is our former Cathedral agent and all-around tough cookie Moira Chisholm. As one of the people responsible for the events that led to Kate’s death — though no one but Revenant is responsible for killing her, note — Moira lives with guilt, regret, and a powerful sense of loneliness that only the loss of everyone you hold dear can bring.

Moira’s guilty of nothing in the present-day calamity, and helps Nancy the very best she can in her own limited power, but is ultimately a character for whom the past looms larger than the present can match. She has her hobbies, but her house is filled with memories of days when people sat on her couch and broke her teacups, not of hours reading alone.

She’s an intensely tragic character, and an example of what happens when your need to know the “truth” can get in the way of doing right by those you love. Moira lost everything to her previous job for Cathedral (who is implied to have left her, an otherwise dangerous free agent, alive because they knew (correctly!) she would become stagnant and docile under the weight of her own guilt, ouch), and yet she risks life and limb to help Nancy —not because she thinks it’ll exculpate her, but because Moira, at her core, wants to help the world, no matter what it’s taken from her.

Our final suspect is Glasgow’s resident skiptracer and unwilling pawn Alec Fell, who, along with Moira, can be traced back to Kate Drew’s death. Originally, Alec investigated a mysterious car crash — the one that killed Kate Drew — and, when he didn’t stop after a warning, had his office ransacked and burned. In the few months before the game starts, he experiences another break-in and his sister is kidnapped, with a message informing him that if he wants to guarantee her safety, to comply with Revenant’s orders.

Unlike Ewan, when pushed into a corner, Alec does his best to raise a little hell while still trying to keep his sister safe. For everything that he does on Revenant’s orders, he also helps Nancy out, finds her suitcase, locates Moira, tells Nancy where the cards are, and does his best to push back in other, little ways.

Sure Alec is guilty of a few things — most notably the fake shooting scare in Nancy’s room — but he’s a very active character, riding the rails and searching for anyone who can help put an end to this situation. It’s not for nothing that he’s a fan favorite, both for this game for the series at large, and his excellent VA and charming dialogue only make up half of his appeal.

On our Nancy side, we’ve got a few returning characters and one (semi) new one, so let’s go through them before getting (for the last time!) to the girl detective herself.

Carson Drew, father and golf model extraordinaire, is here to ground (as in steady, not punish) Nancy as she goes through this mystery. As the other person besides Nancy who was most affected by Kate’s death, Carson is an invaluable source of Kate-related knowledge, but is concerned foremost with his daughter’s safety.

For my money, the most important thing we learn about Carson here is that, well…he married the wrong woman as much as Kate married the wrong man. It’s sort of simplistic to say that their story shows that, in some cases, love doesn’t conquer all, but it’s true all the same.

Carson was happy to jet off to Scotland on occasion to visit Moira and her husband, but being happy to take vacations is a very different thing from a life constantly shifting and changing. He’s a prosecutor, so he has a strong sense of justice, but also has a strong sense of stability — he chose a career with a set trajectory and clearly defined rules.

Kate Austin, however, was a journalist who occasionally consulted for a Spy Organization when life got a little too boring (it’s important to note that she wasn’t a straight-out spy like Moira — she was far too free-spirited for that). She had all of Nancy’s inquisitiveness but more people skills than Nancy will probably ever have, and made friends easily.

It’s easy to see how she would have been attracted to the All-American, hardworking, solidly intelligent, emotionally balanced man, just as it’s easy to see how the slightly flashy, clever, inquisitive, intuitive redhead would have attracted him.

If this is starting to feel like I’m describing two other characters here…well, longtime readers of this meta series already know what happens when I use a paragraph to describe characters without using their names.

Kate is important in the game in that we’re shown her differences from and —more enlightening — similarities to Nancy. Nancy’s actions in this game are reflections on what Kate did (and what she would have done) as much as they show how the daughter diverges from the mother. And while Nancy doesn’t have her mother’s people skills or ease of making friendships, what she does have is her mother’s – and I’m going to use this word purposely — flightiness.

At the end of the day, Carson couldn’t be with Kate when she flitted off around the world, and Ned can’t be with Nancy when she does the same.

(I also find it interesting that we deal in the games only with Carson’s side of the family, and never even have a mention of Nancy’s maternal grandparents. Yes, I know Kate could have been an only child and her parents could already be dead…but I do like the possibility that they blame Carson for Kate’s death (entirely undeservedly!) and thus cut off contact. But this meta is for, well, meta, not fanfic.)

Ned Nickerson plays an important role in SPY in that he tries to help Nancy the best he can, even to the point of breaking and entering in her house (though really, it’s just entering, since he has permission) to find a document for her.

Ned comes off brilliantly in this game, but it’s important to note that his big, impressive (yet charmingly understated) speech isn’t to Nancy, but to Carson. And it doesn’t sway Nancy, it sways Carson. Because, at the end of the day, Carson can relate to lots of the pieces that make Ned what he is, and the situation that Ned finds himself in.

He’s wonderful, as boyfriends go; he calls her, encourages her, offers oddly prescient hints…but he doesn’t go with her. It’d be easy enough to make that a point in the series that, though we don’t see it happen, Ned often accompanies Nancy on her escapades, but instead we’re told — often through contention — that the exact opposite is true.

Ned is solid, true, intelligent, emotionally balanced and kind, but above all, Ned is stable. He’s enrolled in college — in an honors frat — and plays sports, attends his classes faithfully, remembers important dates…the list goes on and on. These are all wonderful characteristics for a boyfriend, but he, like Carson with Kate, ultimately isn’t what Nancy needs out of a relationship — and she is certainly not, like Kate with Carson, what Ned needs out of a relationship.

At the end of the day, both would need to compromise — Ned would need to set off with her sometimes, and Nancy would need to stay close to home sometimes — in order to make the other happy. And, well…nothing we have in any of the games says that either one would do that in the long term. Sure, Nancy returns home after the fight in CAP for ASH…but is in Egypt the very next game — immediately followed by Colorado, Georgia, and Scotland.

And honestly, this is the basis on which I disagree with Ned/Nancy as a couple. It serves neither one and, as we see in quite a few games where they squabble, they can make each other worse.

And speaking of our resident sleuth, let’s talk about Nancy Drew before wrapping up this character section.

In SPY, Nancy is — as mentioned above — a tool, used by both sides to get what they want without caring how it personally affects her. The big thing we learn about Nancy in this — and one of my favorite characteristics about her — is that Nancy is pretty ruthless. To me, it makes sense that, to get the information she wants, Nancy does what a terrorist organization tells her to because 1) it’s not her home immediately at risk, and 2) most importantly, Nancy has done bad things in the name of a good end in pretty much every game.

Lying, stealing, breaking priceless artifacts, endangering others — none of these are really new to Nancy, and what SPY does is brings that to the forefront. Sure, you as the player have the option not to do what Revenant tells Nancy to do…but then you miss out on big parts of Kate’s characterization — and, more importantly, a big part of Nancy’s.

In an unprecedented move, I’m going to reference National Treasure again, and quote part of Ben’s speech before he steals the Declaration:

“[A toast] to high treason…here’s to men who did what was considered wrong, in order to do what they thought was right — what they knew was right.”

To me, that shows us why Nancy does what she does — in SPY, and in every other game where she lies, cheats, and steals her way to the truth. She does it because, at the end of the day, Nancy is a person who is ruthless in her pursuit of her goal. And that’s a valuable trait.

Especially when one is dealing with spies, terrorists, and shady government operatives.

The Favorite:

I love most of SPY, so I’ll stick here with the things that especially stick out to me.

As covered above, I love: what this game does for the lore of the ND world; ‘Samantha Quick’; the many motivations of our suspects, and the emotional resonance that this game has.

Beyond that, there are a lot of little things. I absolutely love that they got the relative of the guy who plays Carson to play Nancy when she was little — that’s adorable to me. I love the cookie-making minigame, the outfit swap for Bridget/Zoe, the voice work for all of our suspects and helpers, and the beautiful locations (especially the spy cabin, both exterior and interior).

My favorite moment in the game is a sad one, but I’m a mercurial kind of person, so you should have really expected that. It’s actually Moira’s log/diary/letter to Kate (it functions as all three) after Cathedral deactivates her as an agent. I love a lot about it — the sad, almost desperate feeling to the words, the pen color changing as the seasons do — but nothing is better done than Moira’s last entry:

“It’s winter. It doesn’t matter that it’s winter, does it?”

My favorite puzzle is probably the zip-lining one. Sure, it’s easy, and sure, the animation makes me a little motion-sick, but it’s just….zip lines are just cool. That’s all there is to it. It appeals to the spy-loving idiot in me, and I think big-woosh-go-fast is stupid cool.

I also have to give a hat-tip to Kate’s letter — turning a fandom meme into a heartwarming story? Nik, you mad genius — and Nancy’s letter to Kate at the end. Both are beautifully written and are the perfect centerpiece to their respective characters, and both always put a smile on my face (and, at times, a tear in my eye) when reading them.

The last thing I really do have to mention here is Logan’s quasi-reappearance. I mentioned this in my “Top 5 Surprising Moments” meta, but I love, love, love that Logan is a Cathedral operative, and that he reported on Nancy during SAW. Not only does this continue to open up Nancy’s world, but it also shows that there are consequences to Nancy’s actions. She’s in rare form as far as rudeness goes in SAW, and SPY weaponizes that against her, giving Cathedral (and Revenant) a way to weaponize her feelings about her mother’s death and her — to be frank — inability to let things lie as they are.

The Un-Favorite:

There are a few things that aren’t quite my favorite in SPY, so let’s run through those as well.

First, in the common refrain of “small visual distinctions are difficult for me personally”, I didn’t like that there wasn’t enough contrast between a plain (on the bottom half) cookie and the orange/purple jelly. The shadow on the screen makes it kind of difficult to tell them apart, especially if there’s sprinkles and/or frosting on top of it, and I found that mildly frustrating, even though I love the minigame itself.

The second thing I don’t like is the option to skip the dialogue. Yes, this is present in most of the newer games, and I don’t like it in them either, but it’s especially egregious in SPY and LIE. Both of these games really rely on hints given in the dialogue (and of course, in the written materials hidden around the game) in order to get a full, clear view of what’s going on. The option is great on repeat plays, but I really do wish that it was disabled if it was your first save file on the game.

The last annoying thing is the Jabberwocky puzzle — or rather, the percentage of the jabberwocky puzzle that the player actually has to do. The puzzle as it stands feels very confusing, and the “hints” you get are quite unintuitive.

The record tells you basically how to create the encrypted message — it’s the first letter from each green word, the second from each orange word, etc., arranged in the order they appear in the poem — but when you start the poem, Nancy has already basically completed this step, and it’s up to you to do the actual decoding just through process of elimination.

It’s a puzzle of letter deduction, like in TMB and the minigame in ASH — and these are normally my favorite puzzles! — but it’s cloaked in the disguise of an encryption puzzle, and for that, it’s incredibly irritating.

The Fix:

So how would I fix The Silent Spy?

The first thing I’d do, which you can probably guess based on the above section, is to fix how the Jabberwocky poem is presented. Even a bit of dialogue establishing what the player actually has to do versus what Nancy does for the player would be helpful in working through it without bothering making the encrypted message oneself, and would set the player up to actually know what they’re doing, versus the mass of confusion that comes with the puzzle.

The only other change I would make would to put in one more flashback — that of 10-year-old Nancy’s perspective shortly after Kate’s death, perhaps after the funeral. We spend a lot of time in flashback seeing Kate before her death, and I think it would add to just a little bit more of seeing Nancy’s relationship with her mother if we could see the Drew house with her recently gone.

(And perhaps, see or hear Hannah? Please?)

The Silent Spy is a game that I find, on the whole, to be one of the best that Nik penned, and certainly a fitting end to the series of “Nancy Games” that gives us a little more perspective on our teeth sleuth. There are as many moments of joy as of sorrow, but in the end the player is left with the feeling that Nancy’s world is a little better for knowing more about her mother, and that whatever else Kate did and was, she left behind a world (both in game and breaking the fourth wall) that was better — and had ways to become even better than that — than it was when she lived in it.

[livia-dovehallow]

kiss you each morning - Gabrily

based on the song “Blueberry Eyes” by MAX (feat. SUGA of BTS) [English Translation Lyrics] || @tsccreatorsnet || also read on AO3

Well, damn, you look so good / Laying there wearing nothing but my t-shirt / Your body's a neighborhood / Wanna drive my lips all around it

Gabriel Lightwood had never given marriage much thought. He supposed, growing up, that he would marry some day of course, in order to please his father and continue the Lightwood bloodline. It was not until he met Cecily Herondale, however, that Gabriel ever considered the possibility that he wanted to marry purely for love. And love did not even begin to describe the way Gabriel felt about Cecily Herondale. “Are you cold?” he asked her that night, shrugging off his coat before she’d even had a chance to respond. Snow fell in a gentle swirl of wind around them, slowly blanketing the London ground. Snowflakes dotted Cecily’s dark hair, dampening it as they melted, and more snowflakes took their place. She turned her head to face him and smiled. Her smile rivaled the beauty of the snow around them, Gabriel thought to himself, losing his train of thought for a moment.

“I have my own coat, you know,” said Cecily with amusement. Gabriel ignored this and draped his coat around her shoulders, admiring the way she nearly disappeared into it. He was left only with his suit jacket, but as long as Cecily was happy and warm, he’d endure the Arctic tundra. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, her head tilted back to face the gray skies. “It is so peaceful when it snows, as if all the sounds in the world just fade away in it. I can’t ever get enough.”

Gabriel did not answer immediately. Instead, he watched the way her eyelashes fluttered with the weight of the snowflakes landing across her face, and the gentle curve of her pink lips into a content smile. His heart pounded against his chest, both in adoration and anticipation. His body felt alight with electricity with her near him, a feeling that brought both peace and excitement into his life and he had yet to figure out how someone could feel both at once. A smile broke out across his own face. “It is,” he answered finally, his voice soft. Cecily closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, unbothered by the winter chill going into her lungs. If only he had a camera; he wanted to remember her like this; engulfed in his winter coat, her raven hair standing out against the white snow, moments before he would do perhaps the most fearsome thing he’d ever do. Gabriel lowered himself onto one knee. “Cecy,” he whispered. She turned and quickly flickered her eyes in surprise, expecting to look up at him instead of down. Her lovely blue eyes went wide. “Will you marry me?”

'Cause I'm holding my breath / Wondering when / You're gonna wake up in my arms / Head on my chest / My heart's beating / I can't wait to

There had never been so many meetings and parties in the London Institute in all of Gabriel Lightwood’s nearly twenty years on earth. This night was just like the others; full of important people wearing important clothes discussing important things and refusing to hear his or any other of the Institute inhabitants’ opinions on any matter while only begrudgingly heeded Will’s solely on the fact that he was now the head of the London Enclave.

Gabriel sat along the wall of the library, slumped against an old wooden bench that made him distantly consider the possibility of splinters in his backside. He listened to the conversations happening around him, waiting for his chance to put in his opinion on a matter and hope his brother would support him. Gideon sat at the important table, beside Will, with Tessa and Sophie on either side of him. Perhaps when he was married, like his brother was, he would have a place at the table. Taken seriously, welcomed, and heeded, as marriage was for men; not boys. The bench shifted beside him and Gabriel tore his gaze away to look. Cecily sat straight, brushing her hands along her skirt until it bellowed out like a lady before her. She wore no gloves tonight, as the Institute was her home, and it allowed for Gabriel’s eyes to follow the gentle curve of her fingers until they landed on the silver band she wore, engraved with a flame, and worn with pride. “Why haven’t you said anything yet?” she asked in a hushed tone. Gabriel looked up at her and immediately found himself lost in her eyes. “Said what?” he heard himself ask distantly. Cecily clicked her tongue in mock annoyance, but her eyes sparkled. “You are a member of the Enclave. You have a voice here. Why don’t you use it?” “They don’t seem to like the sound of my voice, I’m afraid.” She smiled, mischief slyly hidden in the gentle curve of the corners of her mouth. “Pity. I rather like the sound of your voice.” Cecily Herondale was not an adult member of the Enclave, yet. But, after several incidents involving one fearless girl and several broken floorboards, Will declared that his sister was to be an honorary attendee at Enclave meetings, if not for anything else, because she was his ward and he couldn’t possibly keep an eye on her if he was stuck in meetings all day. Gabriel wondered if anyone else had figured out that Cecily’s incidents were deliberate. He smiled back at her. “It’s late. Aren’t you tired?” She shrugged. “A bit, I suppose. But it is just so riveting in here. All this talk of weaponry reports and building remodels really makes a girl feel alive.” Gabriel glanced at the meeting continuing before them, then back at Cecily, who had been in the middle of a yawn and seemed quite determined to pretend she hadn’t been. Thirty minutes later, while considering declaring this meeting nonsense and demanding that everyone be sent to bed instead, Gabriel felt a weight against his shoulder. He turned his chin toward Cecily, whose head was slumped with her cheek pressed against the top of his shoulder, her eyes closed and lips parted slightly. His heart jumped as he flicked his eyes back and forth from the Enclave at the table and his fiancé beside him. No one paid them any attention at their spot along the wall. He watched Cecily instead, now, as her chest rose and fell with soft breaths. She was beautiful, Gabriel thought, and incredible. To go from stubbornly refusing to go to bed to asleep on his shoulder; that was his fiancé. He wouldn’t trade her for the world. Gently, and ever so quietly, Gabriel sank lower and adjusted her head so that it fit within the dip of his neck and shoulder rather than pressed along the sharp, bony end of his shoulder blade. Any business thoughts that had been in his mind were gone now, replaced with the wishful images of him and Cecily, married, in which he would one day soon be able to fall asleep with her curled up in his arms, her head on his chest. He would tell himself it was for her, to make her feel safe, but he knew deep down that it was mostly for him; to remind himself that he can be loved, and that by some divine intervention, he’d finally married the perfect girl for him. Then, as if life couldn’t get any better, he would wake up every morning and look into beautiful blue eyes.

Kiss you each morning / With strawberry skies / 'Cause I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes / I'm running through my dreams to / See you in the light / 'Cause I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes

Sunlight streamed into Gabriel’s eyes from the windows, waking him from a deep sleep. He blinked, momentarily unaware of where he was or what he was doing. He prepared himself to sit up and orient himself but stopped short when he realized there was a weight on his chest. Still blinking through his sleepiness, he recognized the pool of black hair and pale skin curled against his body. Memories of the day before flooded Gabriel’s mind; of wedding vows and dancing, gold skirts and wedding runes. Wedding runes. Gabriel turned his head and looked at his left forearm. A new, glistening black rune stared back at him, one he’d never thought he’d wear and had yet to get used to. His eyes trailed up toward his chest beside Cecily’s head, where the other wedded union rune had been carefully placed the night before. Blankets were tangled around them, soft golden curtains strewn closed around the bed in a secluded paradise. Finally, aware of his surroundings, Gabriel turned back to his wife in his arms. He slowly trailed his fingers along her bare back, admiring her in sleep. Her body fit so perfectly against his that he had begun to believe the stories of soulmates, and of missing puzzle pieces. Her soft pink lips were parted in content sleep; her hair spilled around her face like a painting. Scars from faded Marks dotted her skin, but Gabriel’s eyes were drawn to the edges of the matching rune to his against her collarbone. “How long do you plan to stare?” Cecily mumbled against his skin, stirring awake. Gabriel only smiled fondly at her. “For the rest of my life, I think.” A soft smile grew on her face. Her eyelashes fluttered before she opened her eyes. She looked up at him, blinking sleepy blue eyes, her chin planted in the dip of his shoulder. Gabriel’s fingers froze against her back, losing himself in her eyes, before she laughed and pressed her lips against his shoulder. “Earth to Gabriel,” she said. “What are you thinking?” “That I must still be dreaming,” he whispered. Cecily paused for a moment before she slowly lifted her arm and trailed her fingers against the rune over his heart. “You’re not dreaming.” She pressed another kiss against his shoulder, beginning a trail of kisses up his neck and against his jaw. Gabriel’s eyes fluttered shut, wanting to remember the feeling. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten last night already,” she added with a tease. His eyes flew open again, scanning over their tangled sheets and bodies. “Absolutely not,” he replied, meeting her eyes once more. Gabriel was unsure what happened then, but the moment he met her eyes again, he could see the rest of his life before him. Patrolling and adventuring together, without a chaperone, making the perfect team. Seeing Cecily’s face supporting him in Clave meetings, and the pride in his chest watching her prove her superiority to every other Shadowhunter in Idris and London. Even the sound of the patter of little feet across Lightwood Manor belonging not only to their nieces but their own children and grandchildren.

A ray of light cutting through my shadow / You flipped my life that had been dark / Maybe I'm nothing / Before I met you, I was nobody / I used to mean so little / My life before you was / Only hurrying through the day, yeah / Our days, our nights, okay, our lives / U-A-R-E-M-Y light, friends who support each other, each other’s anchor

“Listen, this is a great idea,” Cecily declared as she dangled from the side of Westminster Abbey from only a thin rope tied loosely around her waist. Gabriel looked up at her hesitantly from the ground, holding with a tight grip the other end of the rope after it wrapped a turret to do whatever he could to prevent her from hurtling to the ground. “I only have great ideas.” “You have dangerous ideas,” Gabriel said under his breath. “I am in a perpetual state of heart attacks.” “I heard that,” she called back, smirking, with a gesture to her enhanced hearing rune. “You always said life with me was exciting. I aim to deliver.” He shook his head, half in resignation and half in fondness for the fearless girl he married. This was not to say he did not enjoy patrolling with Cecily; quite the contrary. Hours alone together meant they could steal kisses without hearing the loud complaints of his now brother-in-law. But patrol was patrol, they were Nephilim, and when Cecily’s pendant lit up as they approached the heart of Parliament Square, it was now purely business. “I’m up,” Cecily called, breaking through Gabriel’s thoughts. “It’s clear, for now. Hurry!” Gabriel did just that, climbing swiftly up after her until his feet were once again planted firmly on even flooring on the roof of the church. The soft red glow of Cecily’s pendant provided just enough light to see her face; determined and fearless as always. Hunting demons with Cecily was starkly different than any other hunting mission or patrol he’d ever done. Will was all jokes and insults; Gideon a man on a mission and someone Gabriel had always trusted without thinking about it. But with Cecily, she was more than a partner. She was his wife and his best friend. There was so much at stake for him now on these patrols, something he’d never considered before. Before her, there was only Shadowhunting. To give his life to the Nephilim young was something he’d always expected. But now, following a demon through the narrow corridors of Westminster Abbey in the dead of night, unseen to any mundane, Gabriel had found a light in his life: someone who made the day worth living, too. Cecily had always been a natural Shadowhunter, but her thrill for the hunt reminded him of why he loved being a Shadowhunter in the first place. They spilled outside, covered in dirt and scratches, but alive with the thrill of another successful hunt. “Do you think they’ll notice that we knocked a plaque off the wall?” Cecily asked, laughing, as she drew her stele from her belt. Gabriel shook his head, chuckling quietly. “With the thousands of other plaques plastered across this building? I think it may be a while.” They were both perfectly capable of drawing iratzes on themselves, but it was their silent expression of love and duty to one another to draw the other’s healing runes. The Wedded Union rune was purely symbolic, but they both liked to believe that their runes were stronger when the other drew it. Cecily drew his first, against his neck. He drew his stele next, lifting his hand to cup her face in his palm to tilt her head and place an iratze on her own neck. He stopped as his skin touched hers. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked, concern flooding his voice as he applied the rune. “You feel warm. Are you flush?” Gabriel looked back into her eyes after finishing the rune, looking closely at her appearance to find any signs of sickness. She only smiled at him and nodded. “I feel fine, bach,” she replied. “You needn’t worry.” He furrowed his eyebrows and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Are you sure?” “Perfectly,” she breathed. Then: “I’m pregnant.” Gabriel blinked. “You’re pregnant?” he whispered, failing to restrain the hope in his tone. Cecily smiled brightly, her blue eyes shining in the moonlight. “Yes”—she bunched the fabric of his gear jacket in her fist and brought her face close to his— “I’m pregnant, Gabriel. With a baby. Our baby.” He pressed his lips against hers and held her body close to his, pouring every ounce of gratefulness and love into the gesture that he could. They smiled against each other before he finally pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers, staring deep into those blue eyes. There was a time when Gabriel Lightwood had once thought he was incapable of love, receiving or giving. Then came along Cecily Herondale, now Cecily Lightwood, with her name written all over his heart in permanent ink until there was no space left. But there was always more room for love. And Gabriel Lightwood’s heart made room that night for another name.

Kiss you each morning / With strawberry skies / I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes / I'm running through my dreams to / See you in the light / 'Cause I get so lost in / Your blueberry eyes

Gabriel Lightwood knew before ever opening his eyes what was about to greet him. Soft giggles grew closer to the bed he shared with Cecily accompanied by bursts of little feet pattering across the floor. A quiet “shh” sounded from Gabriel’s side of the bed. He forced himself to withhold his smile, not wanting to spoil his children’s fun. Against him, he felt Cecily shaking gently with concealed laughter. This was not the first time they were to be woken this way, but they’d never complained. In fact, Gabriel hoped he would be woken like this for as long as possible. The next moment, small bodies landed on top of them, giggling and squirming. “Mama! Papa! Time to wake up!” came a loud, small voice. “Wake up!” echoed another voice, followed by more laughter. Little bodies continued to crawl and squirm across the bed and his body. It was growing harder and harder for Gabriel to hide his joy. “Papa!” came the first voice again, right above his face. Gabriel’s eyes flew open and he shot forward, grabbing his daughter and hugging her close, peppering her face with kisses. “Anna!” he shouted back as he did so, fighting playfully against her squirming as she laughed and laughed.

Cecily shot up beside him and caught their son in her arms. He shouted in surprise but did not fight against his mother’s embrace. Instead, he melted into her arms and grinned happily. “Mornin’ Mama,” he said. “Good morning, Christopher, my love,” Cecily answered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head full of brown curls.

Anna continued to squirm against Gabriel’s grip, being more energetic at five years old than her brother. “Mama, Papa, may we play in the park today? Please?” Gabriel smiled at his daughter and son, who pleaded with him with wide eyes and chubby cheeks. He looked up at Cecily, who wore the same face as their children. “I have a meeting with your uncles this morning, but how about a picnic for lunch? You may play after you eat. Does that sound like fun?” Anna and Christopher immediately nodded and flashed toothy smiles. Cecily reached across Gabriel to pull Anna into her arms so that she held both their children in her grasp. “And that, my loves, gives us plenty of time to get into trouble, doesn’t it?” she schemed, squishing her face against theirs. It was then, in the midst of their scheming, that Gabriel caught all three of their mischievous eyes, crinkled up in amusement and excitement as they cuddled together beside him.

He could only smile, and smile, and smile at them; his wife, his daughter, and his son. His family. And Gabriel Lightwood would always get lost in their blueberry eyes.