#an almost historically bad map

[abigailspinach]

After days of hints at it, Democrats are now making a serious foray into Florida and Texas in a last ditch effort to hold on to their Senate majority. Before calling it “last ditch,” I wondered what to call it. Is that too pessimistic? Too optimistic? I’m really not sure. You know the background. Democrats went into this cycle with an almost historically bad map. One seat in West Virginia was, by universal agreement, hopeless. Beyond that preordained loss, Democrats had incumbents up in a several of the swing states and new candidates trying to hold existing seats in other swing states. On the other side of the ledger there were no obvious pick-up opportunities. Starting from those inauspicious beginnings, the Democrats’ map has held up remarkably well. In all but one case, Senate Democratic candidates go into the last month of the campaign either favorites or strong contenders. That one exception is Montana, where Jon Tester who is now a decided underdog. Which brings us to Florida and Texas.

Are these races really plausible?

I’ve seen many discussions of this. Some of those amount to guffaws, a desperate attempt at un-winnable races. ‘Unwinnable’ certainly isn’t accurate. But they certainly won’t be easy. But that uncharitable way of looking at it, regardless of just where you put the odds, is wrong in general. The goal is to retain the majority. The most obvious way to do that was for Jon Tester to win his reelection. If that’s not looking likely you look for the next best options. And these are clearly the next best options. The answer clearly isn’t to say, welp, I guess we’re not going to be in the majority. This is where the best shot is so you go for it. It’s really as simple as that. The underlying variable of course is money. And Democrats have the money. So it would be malpractice not to put everything behind the effort.

How possible?

Let’s talk about the factors in play.

Start with the fact that neither Ted Cruz or Rick Scott is very popular. They’re basically going to be held up by the Republican tilt of their states. Florida has been trending away from Democrats while Texas is trending toward them. But both remain clearly in the Republican column. But in a cranky year with a strong ‘change’ sentiment, there’s a definite opening against an unpopular incumbent. An August poll showed Rick Scott with a 35% public approval rating. That, needless to say, is really bad. There are also abortion rights and pot legalization propositions on the Florida ballot. And the presidential race itself is fairly close. Just four percentage points separate Harris and Trump.

Given all those numbers it would be crazy not to make a big play for Florida. The two things Scott has in his favor is first that he’s loaded. He can pour in basically as much money as he wants to counter a big Democratic push. The second is that he’s just on a merits a very successful candidate. Despite the reptilian persona he has won three consecutive statewide races in Florida – two for governor and one for senate. In each case, people very reasonably asked, how can this lizardly dude win. But he did win.

Now Texas. Everyone hates Ted Cruz. This is just doctrine. But pains me as it does to say this his approval numbers in Texas don’t really bare that out. His approval numbers this year have been in the mid-high 40s. That’s not great. But those aren’t terrible approval numbers in this era. And they’re not the approval numbers of someone who is only competitive for reelection because of his Republican brand. Trump is up by 6 points against Harris in Texas compared to four points in Florida. Meanwhile Texas doesn’t have an abortion ballot initiative like Florida does. This analyst notes that Colin Allred has gotten close to Cruz by massively outspending him, a deficit that will now be erased. Meanwhile Debbie Mucarsel-Powell has been dramatically outspent by Rick Scott so far and is not far behind. It’s another sign that a new infusion of money is most likely to have an impact in Florida.

By all these measures Florida looks a bit more likely as a pick up opportunity than Texas. But a decent amount of the calculus may come down to the Harris campaign rather than Colin Allred’s in Texas or Debbie Mucarsel-Powell’s in Florida. We live in a straight ticket voting era. That’s why Jon Tester is in such a bad position. He’s well liked in the state but it’s a heavily Republican state. And Trump will win by a big margin.

There are various equations that say that if a Democrat is running for Senate in Florida or Texas in a general election the presidential candidate has to keep the race to some low number to make it even possible for Senate candidate. I don’t know just what that number is. It can’t be too far off since the top of the ticket polls are pretty close already. But to make this possible Harris probably has to make some additional push in those states. Obviously Harris has her own race to worry about. So it’s not like she can take time away from the core swing states to invest time trying to bank shot long odds senate races in states Trump is highly likely to win. But the one thing Democrats seem to have in abundance is money. So perhaps it’s possible without a major sacrifice of candidate time.

The final point is the possibility of significant Democratic overperformance on election day. In any election exceeding expectations is possible. Democrats tend to focus, understandably, on the possibility of Trump over-performing the polls. That’s definitely possible. But it’s also possible the opposite will happen. And this is possible not just in the general sense that this can always happen. There are some particular reasons why it’s possible. I’ve argued before that the handing down of the Dobbs decision represented an electoral pivot separating the preceding six years of Republican overperformance in the polls and starting a new period in which Democrats seemed to overperform their numbers. As time has gone on I’ve more seriously considered the possibility that when pollsters rejiggered their methodologies to account for the 2020 presidential polling error they may simply have over-adjusted, over-shot the mark. Perhaps it’s a mix of both. I don’t talk about this a lot because it’s really more a hunch based on some specific data more than something I’m sure about or want to make an affirmative case for. In this context I’m not saying it will happen. I’m saying that if it were to happen you’re going to want to have turbocharged these senate races as much as possible. A two to three point polling error and suddenly these races that seemed like long-shots could actually be very competitive.

The other factor is abortion, not just in the general sense which may be affecting Democratic overperformace in recent elections but specifically because it’s on the ballot in Florida. The odds of that initiative winning are much longer since Florida requires a 60% majority. But Florida has a draconian 6 week ban in effect. So that is another factor possibly making Florida more competitive than it looks.

What the whole thing comes down to is money. If you have a lot of it these are certainly races to invest in because they’re possible and Plan A for maintaining Senate control is looking quite rickety. And Democrats do have a lot of it. It makes sense to spend it in these races and we’ll know more on November 6th.

[hexjulia]

trained to write historical fiction through hard labour in the canonically accurate silmarillion fanfiction mines

[daydreamingyuta]

Sweetheart | Haechan

summary: fluff, bad boy!haechan au, your plans for this semester were straight forward, focus on your studies and don't get distracted. Your plan was failproof, until you met haechan, the very person you were told to stay away from. w/c: 4,460

As someone who relishes in being an academic, there was nowhere you wanted to be more than around the hundred year old buildings that surround your college campus. The start of a new school semester is a much needed fresh start for you, a time to forget about the person you were last semester and put all your focus onto your studies. 

That was fully the plan you had for yourself. You had everything all mapped out and ready to go, until you inevitably got distracted. 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

The day of your first class, you carved out extra time in your morning so you could enjoy your walk through the great halls of the historic campus. This was something you took for granted last semester and you weren’t going to let that happen again. 

Strolling by the portraits of the college’s long-departed founders, you’re enveloped by the sounds of professors in mid-lecture, their voices carrying throughout the hall. 

When you finally arrive to class, you surprisingly weren’t the first one there. There were two other students, one sitting in the very front and one in the back. Last semester you would have chosen to sit as far from the professor as possible, but you were determined to change, so you picked the perfect seat right in the middle. 

As you get out all your supplies and place them onto your desk, more and more students fill the seats around you. As it neared the start of the class, you wondered if anyone was going to take the seat right next to you. You secretly hoped not, knowing the likelihood of that leading to distraction. 

Almost all the seats fill up except for a few in the row above you, in the very front, and the seat next to you. You were relieved when the professor walked in because you assumed that meant all of the students had arrived. Of course, you were wrong. A few moments later, a group of five guys arrived, conversing loudly to one another. You assumed they were all friends and you hoped that they would take the five seats in the row behind you. You watched as they passed by your row and you mentally smiled to yourself, until you saw the face of the guy who was clearly the loudest in the group. 

He doesn’t see you looking at him, and it wouldn’t matter even if he did. Haechan didn’t know you and you didn’t really know him either. You just knew his name and the various stories you’ve heard about him from last semester.  You had only seen his face in passing before, but now under the bright fluorescent lights of the lecture hall, you were taken aback by how handsome he actually is. He goes out of view from your eyesight and sits down in a seat behind you. As the professor begins teaching, your mind forgets all about Haechan and his bad reputation.

You really assumed that you could go through the whole semester without Haechan crossing your mind again. How silly and naive you were. You did have to give yourself a little credit though. At first, you truly didn’t want anything to do with him. Everyday in class you assumed that you were practically invisible to him, like you were to everyone else. However, when you don’t want someone to take notice of you, it's almost like you become a magnet to them.

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

Throughout the first weeks of class, everyone seemed to have remained in the seats they occupied during the first day, save for the few students that dropped the class. You were very content and happy with that fact because you hated change, even a change that mattered so little. 

The beginning of class went by like normal, your professor passionately teaching as you took the best notes you could. However, you didn’t expect your professor to finish her lecture early and announce that there is an assignment that she wants everybody to complete by the end of class with a partner.

Making friends was actually the last thing on your mind this semester, so you look around the classroom as everyone pairs up, hoping to find someone who also has no one. You scan the room and as you look back to the left, you notice that someone has sat down in the seat next to you. A jolt shoots through you - a flurry of unexpected butterflies erupting in your stomach at Haechan sudden proximity. 

The expression you wore on your face must have been that of complete shock and confusion, but all he does is smirk back at you and turn his attention to the professor at the front of the class. “Alright, it seems that everyone has their partners. I want you to take the next twenty minutes to ask each other the questions on the sheet that I have provided and evaluate each other's answers.”

You barely heard the words she was saying, not understanding why Haechan of all people would leave his friends to be partners with you. However, you did need someone to do the assignment with, so you decided not to complain too much. 

“You gotta put yourself out there a bit more, sweetheart.” Haechan says, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Huh?” Was all you could say, staring back at him.

He tilts his head at you and smiles, “You were looking around the classroom like a lost puppy.” 

You feel blood rush to your cheeks, “Oh. I just haven’t really made any friends yet in class and-”

“Hmh, well you’re lucky I was here to save you.” You were about to correct him and say that you didn’t need him to do anything for you, when he interrupted again. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

It was the second time he used that pet name, and you weren’t sure what was more bothersome, the fact that he persisted in calling you by it, or the part of you that secretly enjoys it. “Y/n.” You responded evenly, trying to hide your inner conflict. 

He mirrored your tone, a hint of challenge in his eyes, “Haechan.”

His presence confirmed everything you’ve heard about him. Yet, there was something so intriguing about him, the way he didn’t think twice about leaving his friends to help you, someone he doesn’t know. It was too much to think about so you put all your attention onto the assignment, hoping it would distract you. 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

You had class again with Haechan two days later. The assignment was finished and already turned in, so you thought that you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. Of course, you were wrong. You watch as his friends go to the row behind you, but he doesn’t follow them. Instead, he sits right next to you again. “Morning, sweetheart.” He says, flashing a smile at you. 

There was that pet name again, even though he now knew your real name. You give him a small smile back to be polite and then pull out your notebook, deciding not to let him distract you. 

You can feel his eyes on your notebook as you open it up to the most recent page of notes. Lately you have been fixated on drawing little sunflowers, so there were a few doodles scattered around your past notes. Just as you are about to write down the title of today's lecture, your notebook is taken from you. 

“You draw?” Haechan asks, inspecting your drawings closely. 

“Not really.” You say, which was the truth. You used to draw, all the time actually, but as you got older you stopped. 

“Hm, cute.” He says, straight faced and looking right at you. You have no idea if he’s trying to compliment you or if it was a belittling ‘cute’, but you ignore him all the same, taking your notebook back. 

He leaves you alone until the very end of class as everyone starts packing up to leave. “You know, you’re in college. You’re supposed to have fun.” Haechan says, his elbow resting on your notebook stopping you from putting it in your bookbag. 

“I do have fun.” You say, genuinely shocked at his words. He knew nothing about you besides your name, which he doesn’t even bother to use. 

“Yeah? I haven’t seen you out.” 

“We just go to different places then.”

He gives you that same smile that could make any girl fall in love within seconds, “You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart.” 

“I wasn’t-”

“How about,” He says, leaning in so close to you that you can count all the pretty little moles on his face. “You get all dolled up for me and I’ll take you out tonight.” 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

Alarm bells started ringing in your mind the moment you left class. Everything you’ve ever been taught urges you to stay away from him. Yet, here you are, putting on the finishing touches of your makeup in your prettiest little outfit, waiting for him. 

You’ve talked yourself out of going about ten different times, but part of you found truth in his words. You don’t go out much, not anymore. It was hard trying to find time for fun while balancing all your classes, not to mention that you didn’t want to revert back to the person you were last semester.

Last semester you prioritized your social life over your classes, and you promised yourself that it wouldn’t happen again. However, you also promised yourself that you would try and enjoy everyday life. You didn’t think that would mean spending time with Haechan of all people, but you’ve never been good at predicting what decisions you would make anyway. 

You’re taken away from all your thoughts by a knock on your door and literally nothing could have prepared you for the whiplash you experienced when you opened that door. Haechan stands there, flowers in hand, and all dressed up. Your face contorts into an expression of confusion that probably looks more unkind than what you intended. 

“These were the type of flowers in your little drawings right?” He says, completely unfazed by your confusion. 

Nothing in his tone from earlier had suggested that he was taking you out on a date. If you had known that, you definitely would have made an excuse not to go out with him. “I thought you were just taking me out tonight, not going on a date with me.” 

“I am taking you out, exactly what I told you. I would never lie.” He says, making his way inside even though you didn’t invite him in. 

You close the door behind him. “Actually I feel like you would.”

He leans on your kitchen counter, “Look, if you don’t want to go, then that’s completely fine. I can find some other girl to give these flowers to, but I'd really rather not.”

With his ever irritating and irresistible smile, he gestures the flowers towards you, wanting you to accept them. Against your better judgment, you do accept the sunflowers and he waits patiently as you put them in a vase, observing every aspect of your apartment. 

Once you finish, you grab your wallet to put in your purse, but Haechan stops you. “Leave it.” He says, gesturing towards your wallet. “Do you really think I’m gonna let you pay for anything?”

“Do you even have a job?” You ask, suspiciously setting your wallet down. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “I get paid.” 

You don’t really care to know what that means, both for your safety and the fact that you don’t want to be an accomplice to any crimes he may or may not be committing. You do leave your wallet though, because the last thing you were going to do was turn down free dinner. 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

Maybe it was the fact that your brain hasn’t fully registered that he’s taking you out on a ‘date’, but you were shocked when he ended up taking you to a pretty nice restaurant. It was right outside of campus, but there weren’t many people your age around, mainly older adults. 

“I feel like you would like the salmon, it’s really good here.” Haechan says, as you look over the menu. 

“You don’t even know me, how could you possibly know if I would like the salmon. I could be allergic for all you know.”

“No. That's why friends hang out, to get to know more about each other.” 

“Friends don’t buy each other flowers though.” 

As usual, Haechan is unfazed by your remarks. “Maybe not, but pretty girls deserve pretty things.”

You roll your eyes at him, “That’s such a line.”

“It is a line, but that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” He leans forwards towards you, like he’s trying to get a better look at you under the dim lighting. “And you look even prettier when I make you blush.” 

You hide behind your menu to hide the fact that you actually were blushing. Luckily, the waitress comes to take your orders quickly. “I’ll have the salmon please.” You say, ignoring Haechan’s smirk because you ordered excatly what he recommended. 

“Can I ask you something?” You say, as the waitress leaves the table.

Haechans nods, taking a sip of his water. “Why did you choose to be partners with me? All your friends are in that class.” 

He sets his water down and looks up at the ceiling, thinking. You can tell in his expression that he has an answer for you, but doesn’t want to say, so he shrugs at you instead. 

You weren’t about to accept no answer from him, this has been bugging you since the day it happened. “No really. I want to know why.” 

Unexpectedly, a shy smile crosses his face. “...I just thought you were cute. You get this really adorable concentrated look when you take notes. Plus, my friends are idiots so when I saw you without a partner, I saw it as my chance to finally talk to you.”

You find yourself torn at his answer. Part of you can feel yourself starting to actually like him, while the other knows the kind of guy that he is. However, you can’t ignore the fact that everything you’ve actually experienced with him is completely unlike all the things you’ve heard about him in the past.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I just have heard some things about you.” You say and you can tell that he immediately knows all the things you’re referring to. “But, now I'm starting to think that my perception of you was wrong.”

“Do you want it to be wrong?”

“Huh?”

“Or do you like the idea of a good girl being with the kind of guy everyone says I am?”

“I…” The food comes, cutting your sentence off, which you were grateful for because you weren’t sure what you were going to say. You hoped that the distraction was enough that Haechan didn’t notice your cheeks heat up again, because if you thought you were blushing before, it’s nothing compared to now. However, if you thought he was going to let go of this conversation, you were wrong. “You didn’t answer me.” Haechan says, taking a bite out of his food.

“I don’t even know how to answer your question.”

“Ok just let me know when you figure it out, sweetheart.” 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

The rest of dinner went great. You were surprised at how easy it was to talk to Haechan, and how well he listens. You even found yourself not wanting to say goodnight to him, so when he took you back to your place, you were secretly happy when he invited himself inside again. 

You were about to set your purse down when he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. “I had a good time tonight.” He says, his eye contact giving you butterflies. 

“Me too, actually.”

He playfully rolls his eyes at your response, “Actually? Like you were expecting to have a horrible time.”

“Well actually, I couldn’t expect anything because you didn’t tell me what we were going to do tonight.” 

He smiles at you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, getting closer to you. “So pretty.” He backs you up so that your back is against the front door and he slowly brings his face closer to you, nudging your noses together. He doesn’t have a tight grip on you at all, you could move if you wanted to, but that was genuinely the last thing you wanted to do. 

You realized that he was waiting for your ‘ok’ before he did anything, so you grab him by his belt loop and pull him even closer to you, your lips meeting. The kiss was a whirlwind, a collision of rough passion and surprising tenderness that left you completely breathless. You clung to him, intoxicated by the feel of his honey lips on yours, wanting this moment to last forever. His hands wandered to all the right places, sending shivers down your spine.  

He pulls back for a moment, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I guess that answers my question for earlier then, huh?”

You roll your eyes at him before he takes you in again, kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before. Your knees grow weaker as he moves onto your neck. “Haechan…” You say, not even able to finish your sentence. 

Unfortunately, he breaks apart from you again. “Yeah?” 

You could kick yourself for what you were about to say, but you knew that the ‘new you’ was trying to improve. “I don’t ever do this.” 

“I figured as much, sweetheart.” He tries to pull you in again, but you stop him. “So… you should probably go.”

He nods his head, but stares into your eyes. “I can tell you didn’t want to say that.” 

“I don’t. I want you to stay, but I promised myself I would listen to my head over my heart so you have to go.” 

He smiles at you, giving you one last kiss goodnight. “I’ll see you in class, y/n.” You nod your head at him, smoothing down your hair that he messed up, as you watch him show himself out. 

The door shuts and you take a deep breath in, feeling like it's the first time you’ve breathed since he stepped foot into your apartment. You take a couple more breaths before you realize how hard you are smiling, wishing you didn’t let him leave, but proud of yourself that you did. 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

You had forgotten how nice it felt to be wanted by someone. You were content to be completely single this whole semester, but you had always loved love. It was something you daydreamed about constantly, even wrote a few short stories here and there in your free time. You didn’t want a one time hookup, if you were going to put your heart on the line, it was going to be with someone who deserved it. The problem was, you weren’t sure if Haechan did deserve your heart or if he even wanted it. 

The attraction was there and it was so easy to talk to him, but how many girls did he take out like this? For all you know, he could be out with another girl right now, making her feel the same emotions he made you feel last night. The thought of that made you sick with jealousy, so you decided to distract yourself so you didn’t have to think about it. Haechan would make his true feelings known to you in time, you knew that much, so all you could do now was try not to go crazy thinking about him. 

You started on your classwork first thing the next morning and finished around noon. Realizing that the only thing you had to eat today was a smoothie for breakfast, you decided to get out of the apartment and go to the cute cafe that was on campus. 

There were few things you loved more than walking around campus on a beautiful day like today. The hills of grass were finally green again after the harsh winter, and the spring flowers were starting to bloom. You were about halfway there when a gust of wind blew, blowing flower petals all over you. You smiled as the soft petals graced your face and you shook your hair out, even though you had a feeling you probably didn’t get them all out. 

You arrive at the cafe, greeted with the warm smell of coffee being brewed and pastries being baked. You were walking to the counter to order, when you saw him. Haechan was sitting at one of the few tables in the cafe, facing a woman whose back was turned towards you. Your heart dropped at the sight of him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the same thing he did to you last night right before he kissed you. 

You knew it. You knew that everything you’ve been told about him was true. You should have seen through his charming act and listened to your head instead of your heart. You didn’t want to look at him any longer, so you turned around to leave. You thought that you could disappear before his eyes found you, but you were wrong. You heard him call out your name, not once but twice, but you kept going, refusing to look back. 

“Y/n! Hey.” Haechan says, gently grabbing your arm right as you walk out the cafe. You stop walking which gives him enough time to get in front of you, “Hey.” He says, grinning at you like he has no idea all the emotions going through your mind. When you didn’t return your smile, his smile faded away. “What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” You mimic his question while crossing your arms. “I let some guy take me out last night, let him kiss me and make me feel pretty, all while he was going to do the same thing to another girl the very next day.” You try to walk away from him, but he stops you again. 

“Y/n, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I promise you I wouldn’t do something like that to you.” He says with pleading eyes. 

“I saw you!” You say, a little too loud that other students start to look over, but you don't care. Haechan was about to deny your allegations again, until the realization dawned on him. His face changes from confused to cocky in a split second. “Sweetheart,” He says, giving you the same addicting smirk. “If I had known jealousy made you look this hot I would have done something sooner.” 

You fume in anger at his words. “Are you serious?” He gets closer to you, causing your back to hit the wall of the cafe. “So this is what you like to do, huh? You like to pick out girls in your classes that look loney, make them think that someone like you would give someone like them a chance, and then what? Make them jealous for your own sick pleasure?” 

“Y/n.” His calming voice a stark contrast to your angry one. “Do you really think I would do that to you?” He got even closer, the feeling of his soft breath on your neck. “Do you really think I could kiss you like I did last night if I felt absolutely nothing towards you?” 

You couldn’t explain it, but his words washed all your anger away. No, you didn’t really think that he would do that to you. And no, you didn’t think that he was capable of kissing you like that if he didn’t have feelings for you, but that still didn’t explain what you just saw in the cafe. 

Before you could question him again, Haechan answers all the questions swimming in your mind. “The girl I was with just now is Julia.” He backs up a bit and you look into the cafe window and see Julia scrolling on her phone. “We volunteer at the animal shelter that’s just off campus. That's the only reason why I know her. I bumped into her today and I could tell that she had been crying, so I thought that I would buy her a coffee to cheer her up. She’s going through some family stuff and she just needed someone to talk to.” 

 “Oh.” was all you could say as you process his explanation. Haechan tilts his head at you and gently brings his hand up to your hair, removing a flower petal that was still stuck from the wind earlier. “You probably think I’m crazy now.” 

“I don’t think you’re crazy, y/n. I’m actually flattered that I have this effect on you.” You laugh at his words because they were true, he did have such an effect on you. 

“I’m sorry I made such quick assumptions about you, Haechan.” 

“It’s not really your fault. We haven’t known each other for very long and I know what people say about me.” 

“Does it bother you?” 

He thinks for a minute before responding. “Sometimes, but it’s not like I go out of my way to show people the real me.”

“Why not?”

“Sometimes it’s easier to just play a character in front of other people.”

You didn’t know what to say so you nod your head at him because you knew from experience that he was right. Sometimes you had to play a character that everybody expected from you out of fear of revealing your vulnerable side. 

It hit you then, that that was what Haechan was doing. He wasn’t playing a character right now, he was being so vulnerable with you. Your heart constricted at the thought of him feeling that safe around you. You wanted to grab his face and kiss him right now, but you’re still in a very public place so you settled for a sweet kiss on his cheek.  “Don’t ever feel like you have to play a character in front of me, Haechan. I like this you better.” You say giving him yet another kiss on the cheek because you couldn’t resist. “But if you still want to call me sweetheart occasionally, I would like that very much.”

Haechan breaks out into the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen in your life, and you were just grateful to have been the cause of such a beautiful expression. He cups your cheeks into the palm of his hands and you lean into his left palm. “I like you a lot, y/n.” 

“I like you too, Haechan.”

[arjudy224]

The Intern: Busy work

With Gotham's Rogues on a hiatus, the field work has dwindled. To Y/N's dismay and Gordan's relief, it's time to complete the historic topographic map online inventory. However, despite how boring this task may be, Y/N discovers an interesting tidbit about Bruce Wayne.

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

Gordan whistles to himself as he heats up his leftovers for lunch. The smell of lasagna floods the room. Note to self: befriend Barbara Gordan. Every time the Detective's daughter visits, Gordan has the best smelling food. I flip through the maps in silent jealousy.

This is the third time this week that I have eaten peanut butter out of a jar for lunch. I need to go grocery shopping... Bad. I add a map to the completed file after scanning it. Pulling the next map from the pile, I notice something.

Frowning, I glance between the 1990's map and the 1980's map. The elevation in this area changed significantly in this decade. Huh... That's weird. That doesn't make sense with this suburban sprawl. Mining isn't common in this area. It's not a sink hole... Taking a closer look, the key displays a cave system. Caves don't shift that dramatically in a decade. It's almost as if it underwent heavy construction. Weird... Glancing at the landowner name, I freeze.

Bruce Wayne.

Under closer inspection, I realize this elevation change occured less than 10 yards from Wayne Manor.

Why would Bruce Wayne mess with an underground cave system?

Gently, I fold the maps and refile them in the cabinet. Gordan munches on a piece dove chocolate from across the room. I consider my options.

Out of loyalty for an old friend, I say nothing. Everyday I learn something new about Bruce Wayne. For the first time in my life, I decide to mind my own business.... For now.

Tag list: @nosyrobin, @jjsmeowthie, @epicy0n,@gaychaosgremlin, @rory-cakes, @luna-zendra-star

[cerastes]

can i get other examples of gamepress being wrong about arknights? i've been using them as my main source since i started and now i'm worried i'm missing out on some operators i haven't bothered to upgrade 🙃

We could be here literally all day because it's not like they have one or two outliers, Gamepress is just mainly edited by people that live in an echo chamber and that have authority in their own circle so it's just off-the-hip, all too often wrong biased takes based on their own really reductive metrics. Chiefly, Gamepress ranks characters 1) as if they were the sole unit in the battlefield almost exclusively, and 2) using the single most broken units currently live as the barrier of entry. The unit you are looking up can't clear a chunk of map in one tap? Worthless and sub-optimal, according to Gamepress. Their only metric is Mlynar, Ch'ung the Hung, Surtr, that kind of Press To Win philosophy, and if a unit can't do that, Then It's Bad And Not Worth It.

Now, you may be thinking, "goodness me, Dreamer, you are being awfully harsh to call them complete dogshit at every angle of the game in this manner!", well, see, it's not just their Operator "reviews", they have articles sometimes. And they are god awful dogshit as well, such as "What Happened To Blaze?"

You can't see the comments anymore, but the author was getting reamed. I have one screenie at least:

Comments were mainly of this nature. Because, well, the article is straight up awful, especially since it reduces Blaze to "laneholder" and compares her to "competition" like Thorns, Mudrock, and Mountain, who, yes, they all can hold a lane, but Blaze has her own space of "infinite duration, high statline, healable 3-block with 2 tile range" that has historically allowed for Funny Tricks like clearing enemies through "walls" on tiles that could shred Thorns even with a healer, or, you know, in conjunction with any of Mudrock or Mountain, given you have 12 whole slots for you team. Again, Gamepress editors rate characters as if they were your main in a fighting game and not one of 12+1 characters you can throw in at any time. They also tend to shit on non-specialist characters (generalists; more versatile units that can do a bunch of things without really breaking the game in any regard), which is very interesting because those usually will make up a strong backbone of any competent Integrated Strategies team, so the specialists in role can do their thing while the other needs of the map are being met.

"Ebenholz is nothing special." "Goldenglow is nothing special." These are takes they genuinely held until, you know, it turned out that Eben and GG are the most relevant Casters, up there with Eyja. To be fair, it wasn't just them being wrong on Eben, but how do you look at the global blasting of GG with her numbers and don't immediately realize that's an ICBM button? All it takes is having the game installed.

The biased nature of Gamepress is also blatant:

Imagine rating April as "Really Good" while relegating Dorothy as only "Really Fun". Even before her Module3, Dorothy was absolutely devastating, bringing huge damage multipliers, crowd control, one of the single best class autoattacks in the whole game at 6* stat weight, and a Talent that gives her even more Attack for basically using her as intended. I'm not saying April isn't good, mind you, I'm just trying to highlight how biased the hands behind Gamepress are: They can't figure out Trapmasters? Then surely they are merely "really fun". Can't drop and forget them like April or Surtr, after all.

About the only thing Gamepress is good for is objective, in-game info: Dates, mat requirements, what skills do, that kind of stuff. It's got a good interface and is a good place to just quickly look up what you need to know that can otherwise be found in the game. The moment their personal opinions come into play, though? The most absolute dogshit takes. Unless you are a "unga bunga drop Surtr and Mlynar and win instan-- WAIT WHY IS INTEGRATED STRATEGIES AND RISK 23+ KICKING MY DAY 1 PLAYER ASS...!?" kinda player, then you don't really want to follow Gamepress advice.

Because they simply do not give good advice as a whole.

[blurredcolour]

What If We Just Fall?

Oh my goodness @supervalcsi this has been the hardest secret to keep! 'Tis I, your summer exchange gift writer! Thank you for all your hard work as the moderator of HBO War Daily, we deeply appreciate you!! It's been a pleasure getting to know you and I hope you enjoy your summer as well as this lovely interlude with sweet Rosie!!!

Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x ATA!Female Reader

Flying with the Air Transport Auxiliary has taught you many lessons – including the importance of guarding your heart carefully. It seems fate, however, has much more to teach you when you are forced to make an emergency landing in East Anglia.

Warnings: Language, Era Typical Sexism, Fear, Crying, Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - T.

Author's note: No descriptions of reader other than the fact that she is not British. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5729

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

October 1944

Meeting a man like Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal was not something you had expected when you volunteered for the Air Transport Auxiliary. In fact, you were not even supposed to land at Thorpe Abbotts Airfield until fate, or more accurately faulty wiring, intervened. Ferrying a Wellington bomber from its repair depot back to the RAF in Norfolk for use in their nighttime bombing runs, you were piloting the five-man aircraft alone – standard practice in the ATA. There was no radio, no navigator, and most definitely no guns. You were a civilian non-combatant and if any Luftwaffe fighter pilots happened to get onto your tail, you simply had to outfly them.

This was not your first Wellington, not by a long stretch, and while you preferred Spitfires for their speed and manoeuverability, these mid-sized bombers were usually fairly docile once they got off the ground. This particular aircraft, however, had been displaying a bad attitude from the moment it took to the air. How it had passed quality control inspection was beyond you. The wonders the mechanics were able to work in short turn arounds were usually feats of precision and skill, but almost immediately you noticed the rudder seemed reluctant to obey your steering commands.

A cascade of instrumentation issues followed before the left engine quit. There was a reason, however, that the ‘Wimpy’ as it was affectionately called by the boys who took the aircraft into combat, was still relied upon by the RAF despite the arrival of four-engine heavies like the Halifax and Lancaster. The Wellington could take a great deal of punishment; lose great chunks of its aluminium and linen airframe, be down one engine, and still get the crew to its destination. It was this reputation you were banking on as you pressed forward to your assigned airfield, hoping the ground crew there would treat this plane better than whomever had done it such a disservice at the repair depot.

You were, by your best guess of the landscape and quick glance at your maps, roughly twenty minutes out when the right engine began to choke and sputter.

“Shit.” You hissed under your breath, pleased no one could overhear you, and dropped your altitude to scan for a safe place to land.

During your pre-flight preparations, you had noted this area was dotted with American airfields as well as RAF; surely you could find a stretch of tarmac to keep both you and this precious piece of war material in one piece. The telltale ‘V’ of concrete, surrounded by still-lush grass waving in the autumn breeze, could not have come into view at a better time. Exhaling in relief as the indicator lights confirmed the wheels had descended at your command, you checked visually that the left was down and had to trust the right and rear were also – with no co-pilot to look for you, there was most definitely no way you could release the yoke and glance out the window yourself.

Hoping the allies would recognize you for a friendly, you lined up to make your landing, the right engine quitting on you as you decreased your speed. Holding your eyes open wide with focus, you leaned forward in your seat, gripping the yoke almost painfully, willing the aircraft to stay aloft to meet the first few inches of runway. The silence in the cockpit was agonizing, a tense ringing in your ears replacing the normal, companionable thrum of the engines, sweat stinging at your eyes and prickling in your armpits. Seconds drew out into hours until at last your tires – all three of them – bumped down to land on the runway.

With a sigh of relief, you quickly pulled up on the flaps, frowning deeply as, with no engines to throw into reverse, the large object in motion seemed reluctant to come to a stop. Mortifyingly, you overshot the end of the runway, skidding to a halt some one hundred meters in the grass like a wet-behind-the-ears trainee, and yet…and yet both you and the plane that you had been charged with delivering were still in one piece. Not at all where you were intended to be, but landed safely, for now.

The sound of several vehicles approaching from down the runway refocused your attention and you pulled off your leather flying helmet, smoothing your hair before gathering your things into your flight bag. Climbing from the dead aircraft, you were greeted by a host of astonished male faces.

“Jesus Christ, she’s a dame!” One of the younger men exclaimed, not so quietly, from the back of the crowd and you did your best to keep a straight face.

“I’m so sorry to intrude on your airfield, gentlemen, ran into a little trouble during my flight. I appreciated the safe place to land.”

Several eyebrows shot up at your distinct lack of British accent, at least one astute gaze dropping to the gold wire weave badge bearing the name of your home country just below your shoulders.

“Well, we’re just glad you’re alright, ma’am. We got very nervous when we couldn’t raise you on the radio.” The owner of said astute, piercing blue gaze spoke, a hint of…New York, was it?...colouring his tone.

“Ah, of course, we aren’t connected to radio in the Air Transport Auxiliary, sorry for the confusion that must have caused.” Stepping forward you offered your hand as you introduced yourself. “Second Officer, ATA.”

“Robert Rosental, Major, United States Army Air Force. What happened up there?”

It took a moment to register that he had asked you a question, the feel of his palm pressing against yours as he shook your hand in greeting more than a little distracting. Inhaling sharply, you turned back to look at the troublesome aircraft.

“Rudder was slow to respond, then I started losing my instruments one-by-one before the left engine cut out. I was hoping to make it on the right, but when it started to go, I knew I had no choice to put it down as soon as possible.”

“You flew that all by yourself?” Another member of the crowd piped up and you nodded patiently.

“Standard practice in the ATA, just me.”

“Maybe that was the real problem.” It was hard to tell where exactly the snide comment, spoken under some ignorant boy’s breath, had originated from.

You noted a flash of anger in Major Rosenthal’s eyes before he started to scan the crowd for the source of it, but this sort of response was something you had certainly encountered before.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that, could whoever said that please repeat it? I’d really appreciate the opportunity to improve on the over seven hundred ferry flights I’ve made since 1941, including one hundred with this very type of plane, so please, speak up.” A sort of stunned silence overtook the group, several of the men wearing bemused smiles, others a look of shock, while the rest shuffled their feet awkwardly in the grass. “Hn. My loss, I suppose.”

“I’m assuming you’re a long ways from where you ought to be?” Major Rosenthal chimed in, the luscious thatch of hair of his upper lip highlighting the way his mouth hitched up at the corner in amusement.

“You would be correct, Major, might I impose upon you for the use of a telephone?”

Some directions were shouted to tow your aircraft to a spare hardstand as it seemed there were replacements planes of their own expected in a few hours and you turned to address the same man Rosenthal was giving orders to – Lemmons, you believed.

“Please be careful, its not a metal skin, it’s linen.”

The look of shock on the boy’s cherubic face framed by copious curls spilling from beneath his knit cap finally broke your control, a small grin sneaking onto your lips as Major Rosenthal led you over to his jeep. Unclipping your parachute from your waist, you tossed it and your flight bag into the back, sliding into your passenger’s seat and finally feeling the ability to relax somewhat.

“Over seven hundred flights?” He glanced at you as he drove, and you nodded softly.

“There are a lot of planes needing to be moved around this island.”

“And here I thought my boys had it rough needing to hit thirty…” He shook his head, driving past the control toward a sea of the all-too-familiar Nissen huts that populated every airfield you had ever visited.

“Ferry flights and combat missions are in no way comparable, Major, the worst thing I face up there is usually English weather.”

The pair of you shared a laugh as he pulled up in front of a long row of buildings. “My CO will want to talk with you, unexpected guest and all.”

“Of course, caused quite the ruckus didn’t I.” You laughed ruefully, sliding from the jeep to collect your gear, startled as he beat you to it.

“Follow me.” He nodded warmly, holding open the door to lead you inside.

After a brief meeting with a very busy Colonel Jeffrey where he put ‘Rosie’ at your disposal, you were ushered into an empty office to use the telephone and contact your superiors. Providing a detailed report of your flight, you were instructed to sit tight pending further directions – most likely an RAF repair crew would be dispatched to try and get the plane operational, but they were also loathe to keep you grounded and out of the rotation for too long. Providing them with Jeffrey’s secretary’s number as the point of contact, you stepped out of the office to find Major Rosenthal waiting patiently in the hallway.

“You must be starving…”

“I would not say no to some food, by any means.” You smirked and followed him back out to the jeep for the short drive to the officer’s mess. “You sure its alright for me to eat in here? RAF doesn’t usually…”

“I insist.” He nodded and opened the door for you once more.

With a grateful nod, you stepped into the space flooded with natural light where row on row of tables covered in crisp white linens stood empty. Given that it was an odd hour for a meal, somewhere between breakfast and lunch, it was no surprise that you were practically alone in there. A server in a white coat quickly approached and Major Rosenthal looked to you to place your order from the choices on offer before requesting just a coffee for himself, pulling out a chair for you to sit before setting your kit in the empty chair beside you.

“This is really quite civilized, thank you again. I apologize that I’m not really dressed for the occasion…”

He chuckled warmly and shook his head. “You look prettier than me after I fly, though I’m quite confident you start out that way, too.” He winked and you smiled shyly, busying yourself with laying your napkin across your lap.

Major Rosenthal was not the first handsome airman to cross your path in your line of work, there had been countless men who had either jeered or flattered you. But after opening your heart to several early on and promptly losing them to a ruthless enemy, you had learned better than to let yourself fall for such girlish stupidity again.

“Having a second breakfast Rosie? Oh…oh I’m sorry I didn’t see you were entertaining…”

“No apologies Croz, one of the lovely ladies of the Air Transport Auxiliary dropped in for a visit.” He grinned and introduced you properly to his friend and Group Navigator Harry Crosby who was apparently only finishing his breakfast now.

“A pleasure, well I’ll leave you two to it. Make sure Rosie tells you about his love of jazz.” His knowing grin at his friend drew an exasperated exhale from Rosenthal, but before he could protest, the server was returning with food and hot beverages that were fit to make your mouth water and Crosby had disappeared.

“I don’t think I realized quite how hungry I was…” You murmured, fixing your drink to your liking before seizing your utensils to dive in.

“Well then, please, enjoy.” He leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands to allow you to enjoy your meal.

After a few bites, once you were feeling somewhat less ravenous, you tilted your head. “Artie Shaw or Benny Goodman?”

He raised an eyebrow slowly before huffing an incredulous laugh. “Artie Shaw, if I must.”

You nodded thoughtfully as you took a deep sip of your beverage.

“What other planes have you flown in your seven hundred ferry flights?” He parried with a question of his own.

“Oh, all sorts - Tiger Moths, Hurricanes, Mosquitos, Spitfires.”

He nodded thoughtfully, smoothing the edge of his moustache with his forefinger. “Favorite plane to fly?” He inquired.

“To fly? Spitfire, without a doubt.” You answered easily, licking a bit of food from your upper lip. “That plane knows what I want it to do before I even think it. Landing however…one the test pilots famously said, ‘she’s a lady in the air but a bi–’” you quickly cut yourself off with a rueful twist of your lips “she’s something else ‘on the ground.’” You finished the quote with more appropriate language inserted.

Rosenthal’s eyes danced with mirth as he enjoyed a hearty laugh at that and you could not help but notice the reddish hue to the whiskers on his upper lip, highlighted by the sunlight streaming in the windows. You wondered if that was where he had gotten the nickname ‘Rosie.’ Jarring yourself from such dangerous thoughts, you quickly turned back to your meal and peppered him with more questions about American jazz greats, enjoying the way he enthusiastically and engagingly spoke about the various band leaders he preferred and why before turning back to you with further questions about your service in the ATA and life before that. Conversation came dangerously easy between the two of you, an undeniable overlap of interests and motivation to contribute.

You were admittedly attracted to the man as well, but for the sake of your sanity, that was something you were going to have to set aside for as long as he continued his brave yet perilous missions over enemy territory. The mess gradually began to fill as true lunch time arrived, your meal and his coffee long finished, and you were about to get up and find somewhere else to wait out the repair crew when one of the servers approached with a message that they had already arrived and were looking for you.

A short drive to the hardstand revealed the four RAF men hard at work on the Wellington under the curious eye of Lemmons and others who were occasionally drifting by.

“When I get my hands on whatever git did this to this poor Wimpy…” You could hear the threats and grumblings emanating from inside the fuselage and pressed your lips together, hoping it was the previous repairperson they had it out for and not you.

“Gentlemen?” You popped your head into the bomber and were greeted by several flustered men.

“Ah there you are Ma’am, how on earth did you keep this lobotomized plane in the air for so long?!”

“Well you know, a good old Wimpy can always get you home…or at least a friendly field.”

“We’ve got…a good few hours ahead of us but then I think you’ll be able to finish the last leg of the journey.”

“Thank you very much, I’m sorry to take you away from your more pressing work. Can I get you anything?”

“Crew Chief Lemmons has been very helpful, Ma’am, but thank you.”

You offered the young man a smile of thanks over your shoulder before shuffling over to set your belongings on the grass. The afternoon was fair, the weather still warm, so you figured it was as good a place as any to wait it out. To your surprise and pleasure, Rosenthal settled onto the ground beside you, picking up your conversation right where you left off as you listened to the men work through the thin skin of the aircraft, watching the sun make its way to the western sky to sink toward the horizon.

“You know, Major, you really ought to come visit London some time. We may not have Artie Shaw or Benny Goodman live in concert but there’s still a great deal of jazz to be enjoyed.”

“Please, you can call me Rosie if you’d like.” He smiled softly and you nodded in response, not wanting to have been so bold without his permission. “You stationed that close that you can just pop into the jazz clubs?”

You nodded quickly. “White Waltham, near Windsor Castle. Very short train ride. Used to fly with the Spitfire girls out of Southampton but I wanted a chance to fly the twin engines…maybe even someday I’ll get inside a Halifax or a Lanc…but that was definitely not going to happen in a ferry pool right next to the Spitfire factory flying only short-range flights.”

“These four engine beasts are definitely a whole other ball game,” He gestured with a thumb over his shoulder towards a B-17 looming behind him, dwarfing the Wellington with is height and breadth “would you still be alone?”

“ATA sends a flight engineer on four engine flights, but no co-pilot.”

He nodded thoughtfully, looking about to add something when the RAF repair crew suddenly emerged, grinning in satisfaction.

“Should be all set Ma’am, care to give it a whirl?”

Nodding quickly, you looked to your companion softly. “Thank you very much for an unexpectedly pleasant standby, Rosie.”

“My pleasure.” He responded with a grin, sliding to his feet and holding out his hand to pull you to yours.

Clipping your parachute in place on the back of your thighs, you slid on your helmet before climbing into the aircraft to try starting the engines. Running through an extended pre-flight check with one of the maintenance crew, they cleared you for take off, Rosie waving to you before driving off in the direction of the control tower. Beginning to taxi out, you could not help the grin as he returned to guide you down the runway, pulling off into the grass and waving once again from where he stood in the driver’s seat of his jeep.

Opening the cockpit window you shouted down to him, “See you in London, Rosie!” before taking off to the sound of his laughter.

To your delight, Rosie heeded your suggestion and made the trip to London – several times in fact, over the course of the winter, otherwise keeping in touch with you via letter. Despite the logical, cautious part of your brain demanding that you keep your feelings for him at bay, feelings that constantly threatened to swell and overwhelm you with each passing meeting and letter, you still found yourself constantly fretting for his safety. Awaiting his next contact, the next proof of life, with bated breath and firmly denied distraction whenever a friend or colleague would tease you about it.

How utterly rude it was of fate to throw such a perfect specimen in your path. Particularly one that could so very easily be taken away with the same rapidity. For not only was he breathtakingly handsome, but his understated confidence and capability in all things so far encountered simply made you yearn to discover his more hidden talents. To have survived so long in an occupation where the life expectancy was six-weeks, just forty-two days, and then sign up for a second tour after meeting his mission quota – yes, he’d had luck on his side thus far, but you had seen luck abandon far too many in the last few years.

The driving pace of your own worked helped distract you, undertaking training in the four engine Halifax bomber in December before the calendar turned to January 1945, and then onto February. Your commanding officer soon indicated you had nearly accumulated enough hours to begin flying Lancasters – much to your delight and eager anticipation. The pace of the production and demand on the frontlines required more ferry pilots for the British answer to the B-17 and you were more than ready to meet the challenge head on.

Not far into the month, however, you found yourself stranded near Diss on a weather delay, unable to fly back to White Waltham. With no trains until the next morning, you decided to hitch a ride to Thorpe Abbotts to take Rosie up on his standing offer to ‘drop by anytime.’ What greeted you, however, was a very concerned looking Crosby and no Rosie in sight. Sitting you down in the same spare office you had used to call in your emergency landing last October, the obviously under-slept man seemed to be having some difficulty getting down to the point.

“Major Crosby, I can assure you I am no stranger to the variety of outcomes of aerial combat, would you mind telling me as much as you are able before you asphyxiate from lack of oxygen?” You coaxed firmly, quite certain he had not taken a breath in over a minute as he paced anxiously in front of you.

His head jerked up at the sound of your voice and he nodded once before sinking heavily into the chair opposite you before taking a deep breath, to your minor relief, and beginning to speak.

“Rosie went up on a mission on the 3rd and we’ve had no news of him since he dropped out of formation.”

Your spine went completely rigid, snapping you almost painfully upright in your chair as you nodded in a cool, detached manner at the news. This. This was precisely the reason why you had been guarding your heart and fighting your feelings and putting every moment of wonderment and each smile of adoration you felt for the man in a small internal box for safe keeping. Because this very situation had seemed so very inevitable.

So why did it still hurt so damn much.

“No news is, is usually good news in these cases but it takes a while for us to hear…. well anything.”

You gulped once, twice in rapid succession as you nodded again before clearing your throat forcefully. “Well, Major, I have to go but,” grabbing a piece of paper from the desk, you scrawled the contact number for Ferry Pool No. 1, rapidly blinking as your eyes threatened to cloud over with tears “will you call if you hear anything? That you can share of course.”

“Of course I will, did you need a ride somewhere?”

You shook your head almost violently, looking forward to the walk to the pub in Diss, a good roadside cry would fix everything surely, before you had to show your face in public. Practically dashing out of there and off the base, you barely made it out of earshot of the gatehouse before your tears bubbled over. Fine lot of good all your cautious and careful planning had done you – you had been half a person in Rosie’s presence only to have the very emotions you willfully denied snap back at you tenfold now that he might very well be…and you never once got to see how his eyes might light up if you had told him how you really felt. Feel.

All the logic in the world could not save you now as you blindly sobbed your way towards town, stubbornly wiping at your nose with your handkerchief. If you had really lost him, a very real possibility that twisted your gut painfully and drew an extremely dramatic series of hitching sobs from your breast, he had deserved better. He had deserved to know that he was cherished and admired rather than just a friend to you, and on that front, you had failed so miserably you just might never forgive yourself.

The weeks of watchful waiting were long and painful. No news came, no messages awaited you at Pool Headquarters, no gossip on the bases you visited. Until the morning of the 26th when, to your great relief, and amusement, you learned that the man was alive and well, enjoying a hero’s stay in Moscow, of all places. The newspaper article quoting the absurd volume of vodka he had endured consuming brought a long-absent smile to your face and lightness to your chest, the news beating Major Crosby’s phone call by, at most, thirty minutes. All as you were on your way with your flight engineer to your first routine Lancaster ferry flight.

Climbing into the cockpit, you took the brief moment of solitude to close your eyes, inhaling deeply as you whispered words of gratitude to whatever higher entities had clearly been watching over him. Perhaps luck was never going to run out for Robert Rosenthal. Clearly you were a fool for thinking that was the eventuality here.

“Ma’am?” The timid voice of your flight engineer, Naylor – though everyone called him Tiny Tim for the young man hardly ever spoke above a whisper, pierced through your thoughts and you jolted back to reality quickly, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Let’s pop over to Wales and deliver this bird, shall we?” You did your best to display nothing but confidence in the task before you.

He smiled back with a nod, just as eager as you to get this great beast of a plane into the air. To say that heavies became the primary planes on your delivery roster would have been an overstatement, but they were most definitely a constant. As was the ever-present thought that someday soon you would find yourself face-to-face with Rosie once again and just how to handle that day of reckoning was certainly something you found impossible to decide upon.

Should you confess and apologize on sight? Wait for a few weeks for him to settle back into life on base before unloading your feelings onto him? Or continue on as you had before? The way your stomach plummeted like a wounded bird at the last option was a clear illustration of how impossible it would be to pretend you simply regarded him as a friend. But there was a growing fear as well. For all of your focus on concealing and compartmentalizing your own feelings, you had not once allowed yourself to consider how he might feel for you. Aside from some flattering comments that may have been construed as flirtatious, he had never displayed anything but the highest calibre of warmth and social graces towards you. But you found yourself constantly pondering just how Rosie might react to a confession of what had flickered into an irrepressible blaze in your chest.

In the end, you spent more time sitting with those concerns than those for his very well being, the unseasonable warmth of February continuing on into March, with more sunny days than you had grown accustomed to after living in England for so long. April was only a few days away on the calendar when your next ferry run took to you St. Mawgan to deliver a Lancaster to the RAF Overseas Aircraft Despatch Unit. Where exactly the aircraft’s journey would end was a point of mystery and you were admittedly envious of the pilot who would sit in the lefthand seat next and take it beyond the relative safety of England’s shores – territory that was strictly off limits to you as both a civilian and especially as a woman.

Parting with your flight Engineer Martens in the all-female WAAF mess, the girl avidly ensconced in a conversation comparing beaus with the girls stationed in Cornwall, you headed back out to pick up a damaged Spitfire that had just arrived from France, desperately in need of a visit to the repair depot. In the process of inspecting the aircraft, to ensure you knew precisely what damage you would be needing to overcome, a remarkably familiar voice broke through your concentration.

“She certainly still looks like a lady on the ground…rather mistreated, but definitely a lady nonetheless.”

Straightening and turning far too quickly, you cracked your head on the underside of the fuselage, earning a look of sympathy as his hands cupped your shoulders to pull you closer, out of danger of inflicting further harm to yourself.

“Rosie…” You whispered, staring at him, unable to stop your fingers from reaching out to brush his cheek, to confirm he was real.

The muscles of his face crinkled beneath your touch as he broke out into a smile, an expression you immediately echoed despite the unbidden prick of tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Hi there.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed sharply, face growing slightly solemn as he lay his hand atop yours, pressing your palm fully against his warm skin. “I’ve been a complete fool, and I’m not sure if you can forgive me.” You tilted your head, brows furrowing in bewilderment. “The world out there is dead set on tearing itself apart and I…” His tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously, an emotion you were quite confident you had never seen overcome him before. “The entire time I was struggling to get back here just to tell you. To tell you how much I care for you. You are much more than just a friend to me, and I was an idiot to think I was okay with putting this off until the war was over.”

Eyes widening as the man seemed to be stealing the very thoughts from your head and putting them into words before you even had the chance, you sniffled playful and wiped at a stray tear that had managed to sneak down your cheek. “Don’t you go taking all the credit now, Robert.” You chided warmly, earning a stunned look from him in return. “It has taken two complete fools to deny what we’ve become, wouldn’t you say?”

Huffing a soft laugh, Rosie conceded your point with a nod as he grasped the unbuckled ends of your leather flying helmet, tugging your face closer. “I love you, you incredible woman.”

Taking a notably shaky inhale, you nodded quickly, a few more tears spilling over. “I love you, too, Rosie.” You struggled to speak around the knot of emotions in your throat, fully intending to reciprocate with some sweet term of endearment, not quite certain you could manage.

Mercifully, his lips had the grace to press against yours and save you from trying to say anything more. Grasping the fleece collar of his bomber jacket, you pressed closer in the shadow of the plane you ought to be inspecting, but the Spitfire was doing a fine job of shielding you from prying eyes and five more minutes in the arms of the man you loved – yes, it was love – and had been separated from could easily be made up courtesy of the stiff tail wind you expected on your flight to Southampton.

The rasp of his facial hair made you shiver at the slightly ticklish sensation as he maintained a firm grip on your straps, delivering kiss after kiss as if to make up for lost time. An uncontrollable grin stretched across your lips, making it nearly impossible for him to continue and so he shifted to focus on erasing any trace of tears from your cheeks, only encouraging your grin to curl wider until you were simultaneously giggling and trembling at the feel of his moustache against your jaw.

“Someday, we’ll have a lot more time, and I’m going to spend every second of it kissing you…” His eyes were filled with a fiery intensity that made it awfully difficult to draw breath and you shifted forward to press your lips to his flushed cheek in turn.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Robert Rosenthal.” You nodded firmly as you pulled back, arching sharply as his hands slid to rest against your shoulder blades, his mouth landing on yours fiercely.

“First Officer, are you quite ready?!” The shrill bark of an encroaching member of St. Mawgan’s ground crew wrenched the pair of you apart as effectively as a physical intervention, a shared look of reluctance passing between you as you quickly straightened your clothing.

You noticed his eyes flick to your shoulders to admire your new rank badges.

“You’ve been busy.” He murmured and you smiled with quiet pride.

“Fly Lancasters now, too.” You nodded and pointed over his shoulder to the plane you had flown in that morning before turning to address your intruder as he called your name once more. “Nearly ready, thank you so much for your patience!” You poured on the sweetness in your tone, noting the way Rosie’s eyes narrowed slightly as they returned to your face.

Biting back a giggle you blew him a kiss before emerging around the nose to greet the harried RAF man. “Major Rosenthal of the USAAF has never seen a Spitfire before, he asked me to show him around.”

“Thank you again for your indulgence, Ma’am, they are definitely fine planes. But I will let you get on with it.” Rosie played his part admirably, the set of the intruder’s shoulders easing somewhat.

“Yes, yes, well we need you out of here in five.” He turned to look at the clipboard in his hand and your gaze met Rosie’s once more.

“It was my pleasure, Major. I’d best be off.”

“Of course.” He nodded firmly, eyes remaining locked on yours as he mouthed ‘love you’ making your heart lurch erratically for a few beats as you mouthed it back. “Safe flight.” You spoke aloud.

“You as well.”

Noting the RAF man was once again paying attention to his surroundings, you turned to finish your quick once over of the plane before stepping up onto the wing and slotting into the narrow cockpit before pulling the side flap closed and starting the engine. Once the coast was clear, you blew one last kiss to Rosie, laughing brightly as he made quite a show of catching it and tucking it into his pocket.

“Until next time!” He shouted and you nodded brightly, pulling the canopy closed.

Because there most definitely would be a next time for you and your man of endless luck, and that was something that you no longer wished to deny.

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

Masters of the Air Masterlist

Postscript - thank you ever so much to @precious-little-scoundrel for proofreading this for me!!

[laurenairay]

I need your hands on me, sweet relief - Q. Hughes

Summary: After another disappointing season, Quinn Hughes needs a change of scenery. Renée Moreau is just trying to figure her life out.

Also known as, the Summer in Provence.

Words: 12k

Warnings: angst, fluff, self-doubt, some bad language, hinted intimacy

A/N: Quinn has really sunk his hooks into me this off-season so I knew I had to write something for him! Provence is on my list of places to visit, so this research was really fun to do.

Title from Pretty Please, by Dua Lipa

~~~

Quinn was tired. No, he was exhausted. Every year it had been the same thing – play so hard all season, push his body to the limits, his team forcing themselves to breaking point, only to never make it into the playoffs. With the Canucks not reaching the playoffs for eight years in a row now, despite him only being on the team for half of that, the pressure was starting to take its toll.

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Something needed to change, anything, before the repeated devastation broke him entirely. It felt stupid being only 23 years old and feeling so weary, but he had to do something. He had to do something to break himself out of this cycle, mentally if nothing else. If nothing changed within him, how could he expect anything to change for the team?

By the time locker clean-out day came around, Quinn was at the end of his tether. It wasn’t uncharacteristic of him to stay quiet, he knew that, so he escaped from half-hearted conversation with a promise to attend one last team event, a goodbye barbecue, before everyone went their own ways for the summer. By the time he’d driven himself home to shower off the stink of failure, Quinn had formed a vague plan for what he wanted to do.

He was going to go on vacation. By himself. For at least two weeks.

It was completely out of his comfort zone, completely different to his usual summer routine, but the more he thought about it as he scrubbed the shampoo out of his hair, the more he was convinced. He needed a break. He needed a holiday. Now, he just needed to figure out where.

Somewhere in Canada? No, that was the last thing he needed after the crash of the season. Again. Somewhere in the US? Even more of a no, with the playoffs in full swing. So somewhere abroad? Maybe…somewhere in Europe? The continent was big enough for him to hide in for a couple of weeks right?

The only thing he could think of to do was to pull up a map of Europe on his laptop the moment he got out the shower, close his eyes and have a pointed finger land on a country. Surely he could narrow it down from there, even as dumb as he felt picking a destination this way in the first place. At this point he couldn’t back out though, the desperation fuelling him, so Quinn followed his ridiculous plan – he pulled up the map, closed his eyes, took a deep breath…and placed his finger on the screen.

France.

Okay, France was good. It was a good option, plenty of different cities all across the country. One of them would work for him to unwind in, right? Somehow, he already felt lighter, just from knowing he had a vague destination. Was it really this easy? Why had he not done this before?

Before he knew it, he was spiralling down a rabbit hole of articles - ‘places to visit in France’, ‘3 months backpacking across Europe – must-see sights’, ‘gap year in France’ to name a few – and his eyes kept catching on a name. Provence. And the more he looked into the region, the more he fell in love with its beauty; it had everything from wine tasting to lavender fields to historical towns, and he could almost guarantee that no-one would know who he was. Perfect. Narrowing things down from Europe to France to Provence...and he eventually settled on an ancient medieval town right on the river Rhône, called Avignon. It looked so idyllic, and full of things to do (as well as close distance to plenty of other things to do). Something in his bones was telling him this was the place. This was it, the place where he could disappear to for two weeks to reset and refresh from the season.

And it wasn’t hard to get to either – it almost felt a little too easy. Quinn wasn’t used to things just falling into his lap like this, like it was too good to be true. A 13-hour flight from Detroit to Lyon, and then an hour by train from Lyon to Avignon? And a pretty little apartment in the centre of Avignon for far less than he’d been expecting? It was all there in front of him, timings and pricings included – could he really just book it and disappear for a couple of weeks?

What was holding him back?

Before he could chicken out, Quinn filled in his payment details for the flights, clicking through all the submission pages until a booking confirmation was in front of him, and he let out a shaky breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. There was no going back now. He quickly booked the apartment too, making sure the dates and timings lined up, and once he had that confirmation page in front of him, he found himself laughing a little incredulously.

He'd done it. He’d really done it. He was going to Avignon in Provence, France, for the first two weeks of May and there was nothing that was going to stop him.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Quinn felt free.

~~~

It took Quinn all of his willpower not to spill his plans to his family while he waited out the month before his trip arrived, not telling any of the Canucks either at the end of season barbecue. It helped that Jack (and his team) were in the first round of the playoffs and thriving, easy to pour his focus into supporting his brother there, his family’s full attention on his little brother just as he deserved.

There was just something in his gut telling him to keep quiet. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to distract from Jack’s playoffs, but he knew deep down that he just didn’t want anyone to worry. Because they would. Taking a trip so far away just to change things up? No-one would understand. They’d just fuss and stress and make Quinn feel worse than he already did – so he just didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a little selfish, but he didn’t care.

After a hockey season like he’d had, he just didn’t care.

It was easy enough to pack a suitcase without anyone noticing either, easy enough to have it waiting by his bedroom door with his passport tucked into a rucksack along with a couple of books he’d been meaning to read for a while, easy enough to call a taxi to take him to Detroit airport early in the morning before anyone in the house was awake.

It wasn’t until that he’d checked in and dropped off his suitcase, until he’d walked through security and gotten himself a much-needed coffee, that he pulled out his phone and opened up his family group chat.

From: Quinn Just wanted to let you all know that I’m heading off to France for a vacation. I’ll be gone for two weeks. Best of luck in the second round of the playoffs Jacky!

From: Luke Wait, what? Tell me you’re joking. Mom did you know?

With that, he put his phone on airplane mode, not daring to wait for any more messages to come through. The fact that Luke was awake this early was bad enough. It was the coward’s way out, he knew that, but at least he told them all, right?

With a sigh, Quinn tucked his phone into his rucksack, alongside the travel adapter for his charging cable he’d had to buy moments ago, and pulled out one of his books, sinking deeper into his chair. Only 30 minutes until his flight would be called – the sooner the better.

The rest of Quinn’s journey faded into a blur. Going to the gate. Boarding the plane. Taking off. Eating. Watching a movie. Eating again. Reading his book. Taking a nap. One final snack before landing. Waiting for his suitcase. The train journey to Avignon. The taxi to his apartment, not being awake enough to do anything other than show the driver the address he’d saved on his phone.

By the time Quinn collected the key from the dropbox and stumbled into the apartment, it was all he could do to dump his suitcase in the living room and kick off his clothes ahead of faceplanting into the bed, jet lag dragging him down into a deep sleep with a smile on his face.

He’d made it to France. Provence. Avignon. He could finally rest.

~~~

Renée Moreau felt like she was at a standstill. She’d followed all the steps in the playbook – worked hard in high school, gone to college, graduated with a degree in Communications from the University of Ottawa – but now she was at a loss. There was no rulebook for what to do when you reach adulthood, other than the societal expectations to get a job, settle down, get married, have a family. But she was only 23 years old and single as hell – there would be no marriage and babies happening any time soon, of that she was certain, and as for getting a job? She just didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know what would make her happy.

She was at a standstill. She was lost.

Sure, Renée had worked a couple of odd temp jobs after coming home to Montreal but nothing that resonated with her, much to her parents’ dismay. She loved them – truly she did – but their expectations for her future didn’t line up with her own in her current stage in life, and she knew that seeing her get more and more run down with each job that didn’t feel right only made things harder. It got to the point, after 9 months, where her parents suggested that they could pay for her to take a three-month travel break to Europe on the condition that she would work for her father’s company when she returned. It felt like an easy way out, something she’d desperately tried to avoid…but after the past 9 months, she knew she needed to do something.

So she’d agreed, much to her parents’ elation.

Renée decided on France, in the end. It was her first language after all, having grown up in Ville-Marie in Montreal, and after a bit of serious research with her parents she’d made a rough plan, starting with Paris.

Her parents paid for her 90-day Schengen visa, bought her plane tickets and paid for all her accommodation as belated graduation presents and her birthday present combined, but she would pay for all food and excursions & activities out of her savings from the various jobs she’d worked since graduating. She knew she was privileged, more so than a lot of her friends, let alone the strangers she’d met on her travels, so she knew she couldn’t take her time away for granted.

Like most things, it turned out her parents were right. The trip away, travelling around France, was exactly what she needed.

For her first month, March, she travelled around exclusively by trains. Her first full week was spent in Paris, the perfect start to her trip to soak in all the culture and history, and then after that she went to Rennes for five days, then Poitiers for five days, then Saint-Jean for five days, and finally Bordeaux for a full week.

In the last few days of March, Renée hired a car to drive to Lyon, staying there for a full week to take her into April, and then on to Toulouse for five days. Next, she drove down to the southern coast, visiting Narbonne for three days, Beziers for three days, Montpellier for five days, Marseille for five days, and Nice for five days, before finally heading to Avignon. Within her first two days there, she’d quickly fallen in love with the medieval town, so had decided to stay for her entire last month. Her parents found her an apartment that would let her stay for the full 30 days, so while she was based in Avignon, she kept that hire car and planned to travel around to different places within Provence, to get the full experience.

It was hard to believe she only had one month left before she had to head home to Montreal.

Still, she knew there was something different about Avignon, something that drew her in, something that was telling her to spend her time there – so she was following her gut, just waiting for the universe to give her a sign.

And on the first of May, everything changed.

Renée was on her way back up to her apartment after picking up a few breakfast items from the local bakery, the old lady Vivienne who ran the place having given her a couple extra croissants with a sweet smile, only to see a stranger walking down the corridor towards her. He was tall, maybe 5ft 10, with fairly broad shoulders and toned arms. His dark hair was fluffy and unkempt, his pale skin a little unnatural with its purple bags under his eyes, and he barely looked conscious. Out of instinct, she held her bag a little tighter to her chest, even though he looked a little lost rather than intimidating. But still…she simply smiled politely, hoping that this wouldn’t end badly.

“Good morning. Are you new to the building?”

The man blinked sleepily at her, silent for a moment, before he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak much French. Do you speak English?”

She huffed out a laugh, her nerves fading a little. American. She could recognise the accent easily, different from her own French-Canadian, even if he was slightly slurred with sleep. “I do speak English. Are you…lost?”

He looked confused for a moment. “No?”

“I originally asked if you are new to the building,” she added.

“Oh, yes, I rented out that apartment for two weeks. Only arrived last night and I am super jetlagged, so I’m sorry if I’m a little loopy?” he said, smiling sheepishly.

Bless his heart. That explained a lot.

“I’m Renée, I’m staying in the apartment next door,” she said, holding her hand out.

He smiled warmly at her as he shook her offered hand, a sweetness that sent unexpected butterflies roaring through her stomach.

“Quinn. Sorry if I startled you. I promise I’m not this weird when I’m fully functioning,” he said, still smiling.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his self-deprecation, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry about it. I just want to check though…are you heading out to get breakfast?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning on it – why?” he asked, confused.

“Not a lot of stores in Avignon speak a lot of English, at least not near us right now, so you might want to wait to venture out until you’re properly awake,” she teased.

Quinn blushed slightly, even as he groaned.

“Ah shit, I didn’t think of that,” he admitted, his smile shifting to a wry one.

She hesitated for a moment, before steeling herself. If her trip across France in the past two months had told her anything, it was to follow her gut instincts.

“Do you want to come into my apartment for breakfast? I have extra croissants, a bunch of different jams, and plenty of orange juice?” she offered.

His lips parted in surprise before his cheeks coloured again. Interesting. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she mused, nodding, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t, and we’re going to be neighbours for a little while at least, right?”

“Right.”

Renée opened her front door, Quinn following her in, closing the door behind himself gently. She smiled to herself as he curiously took in the apartment, probably no different than his other than the positioning of furniture, so she left him to look around while she unloaded four croissants from the bag and pulled out a few options of jam as well as the fresh butter in the butter dish she’d bought (that was definitely coming home with her). She gestured wordlessly for Quinn to sit at the breakfast island as she started loading the counter space in front of him, pulling out two plates, a butter knife as well as a few jam knives, and then finally the orange juice and a couple of glasses. It wasn’t much, nor had she entertained anyone other than herself in the couple days she’d been in Avignon, but it was perfect for her.

“Please dig in. It’s humble but it’s tasty, I promise,” Renée said, smiling.

Quinn just nodded shyly, reaching for a croissant. She tried not to watch him as she prepared her own breakfast, but it was hard not to enjoy the pure joy on his face at his face bite of buttery croissant, her smile catching his attention.

“Sorry, it’s just so good,” he mumbled.

“Definitely don’t apologise,” she laughed, shaking her head, “I’m sure I made the same face when I had my first croissant here. And if you think this is good – wait until you try the fresh bread. You’ll never eat processed cut loaves back home again.”

Quinn just groaned, taking another bite, making her laugh softly. She could appreciate a guy who appreciated good food.

“I think I’m going to really enjoy staying here for two weeks,” he finally said, after he’d eaten one half of his croissant.

“Two weeks huh? That’s a pretty decent amount of time to spend. What’s brought you out here then?” she asked.

Sue her, but she was curious. The exhaustion wasn’t just showing in his body – it was in his eyes too. Was he running from something?

“It’s just been a really hard year. With work, mostly. I haven’t had a proper break and I really needed one, so I pointed to a map, chose France, and spiralled down an internet rabbit hole until I settled on Avignon. It seemed like a good place to unwind and rest, at least for a couple of weeks. One of my best friends is getting married in July, so I wanted to be in a better place, mentally at least, before then,” he explained.

That definitely wasn’t the whole story, she could tell, but it was more than enough to explain the basics at least. She could understand wanting to get away from everything to reset at least.

“I’m sorry that everything’s been really difficult, but I promise you that Avignon is a great place for a vacation break. I haven’t been here long but I’m already feeling great,” she said firmly.

“Well if it’s any different than Vancouver, then I’ll be happy,” he mused.

Vancouver?

She could’ve sworn his accent was American.

Oh wait.

Oh.

Quinn.

Vancouver.

The year had been really hard for him.

You can take a girl out of Canada but you can’t take Canada out of the girl. She knew exactly who he was – Quinn Hughes, star defenceman of the Vancouver Canucks. How could she not have realised who he was?

But clearly, he was in Avignon to escape everything, to take a break from his real life and rest. She couldn’t tell him that she knew who he was, at least not right now. He deserved a little time at least to recover from the Canucks terrible season, and she could absolutely give that to him.

“Do you want me to show you around Avignon today and tomorrow? Show you the basics of our little neighbourhood like groceries and coffee shops and restaurants, as well as the tourist sites?”

“Oh I couldn’t impose,” he said quickly.

“Quinn, I’m offering because I’m happy to, I promise. Besides, you said you don’t speak much French and you might need the help, at least for the local parts,” she said, teasing a little at the end.

He blushed lightly before huffing out a laugh. “Alright, if you’re sure. I would love the guide help.”

“Great, it’s a plan! Now, please have another croissant and try another jam flavour. You won’t regret it.”

~~~

For the rest of his first day in Avignon, Quinn blearily followed Renée around, letting her help him pick up basic groceries to get him started as well as heading to a coffee shop to clear some of the fuzziness out of his head. They sat and talked for hours at the coffee shop, sitting outside on the edge of a square, just letting the sights and sounds flow over him, listening to Renée’s interesting stories about the neighbourhood.

He didn’t know if it was still the jetlag or not, but the fact that a girl as beautiful as her was paying attention to him was exactly what he needed in that moment. Her blonde curls were bouncy and shined like liquid gold in the midday sun. Her big brown eyes were almost doll-like, captivating and full of emotion. Her smile was entrancing, her laugh was like music to his ears, and she had curves for days that were simply mouthwatering. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had captured his attention like this, especially not this quickly, but after all this season had been, to have this girl willing to spend time with him? It was everything.

Quinn was still suffering with jetlag pretty badly though, which Renée noticed and clearly took pity on him for, because she kept the rest of their day pretty light, mostly just walking him around the neighbourhood, showing him roughly where the main sights were ahead of a bigger day tomorrow. Which…she still wanted to spend time with him after a day of him being pretty useless other than happily basking in her conversation? Mind blowing.

The little local restaurant that she’d taken him to that night was just the cherry on top of an incredible first day.

Just like she’d promised, Renée had ramped up activities for his second day in Avignon. He’d put up a token protest at first, not wanting her to waste time with him when she had her own vacation to enjoy, but she’d insisted that she wanted to do the touristy things too. That, and he could ‘pay her back’ for translating everything by taking some cute photos of her rather than her having to rely on selfies to send to her family.

He'd blushed, obviously, but agreed quickly. It was hardly a hardship to take a few photos of her, especially when they would all be cute.

Renée ended up taking the two of them on a basic tour of some of the main sights on Avignon. The first being the Palais des Papes fortress, which he’d read about before his trip and was actually excited to explore, even more so when Renée told him that on summer evenings there was an impressive light show there that explained the history of Avignon (which the two of them ended up attending that very evening after dinner in the little local restaurant again, with a flask of spiked hot chocolate). She’d also taken him to the Pont d’Avignon, a beautiful medieval bridge where only four arches survived. After stopping for lunch in a little café, the two of them had wandered around the flower market and farmer’s market at Place des Carmes – not buying anything but just taking in the sights and people watching, soaking in the atmosphere.

In the afternoon, she’d driven the two of them 30 minutes away to visit the Roman Pont du Gard – a UNESCO World Heritage site for a beautiful ancient Roman aqueduct bridge, where he’d taken way too many photos…and Renée had even taken a couple of him in various poses.

For the memories, she’d insisted.

How could he refuse?

Day three found them a little more chilled out. Renée liked to keep a balance, apparently, of chilled days and packing in touristy activities, which Quinn was more than happy to indulge in if it meant spending more time with her. It felt a little silly to be focusing his time around someone he’d only just met, but there was just something about her. Something that made him want to spend time with her rather than isolating himself. And it wasn’t like he’d set out with much of a plan other than getting away from everything back home.

The main thing they did on his third day was walking around the flea market in Place des Carmes, the same place that the flower and farmer’s markets were in the day before, before sitting in the square afterwards in coffee shop to watch the world go by. It was exactly what he needed after the intense day that yesterday had been, and it just gave him more of an excuse to get to know her a little better, even volunteering a little information about himself as well. Not much, but still a little, enough to make her smile at least.

On their way back to their apartments, Renée had insisted on picking up groceries for dinner, promising to cook for him (which he was never going to say no to), as well as taking him in a couple of little trinket stores she’d found on her own first day, some of which he knew he’d be returning to for gifts to take back home. But that wasn’t something he was letting himself think about right now – home. Right now, all he wanted to do was focus on the beautiful girl next to him, so full of joy and wonder and excitement, soaking in her energy.

She’d cooked him a grilled fish dish, paired with sautéed vegetables and potatoes, inspired by one of the restaurants she’d eaten at in Marseille. It was incredible, the best fish he’d ever eaten and he wasn’t even exaggerating – she blushed all the same when he complimented her cooking though, brushing herself off as amateur. If he could pick up even a little of her sense of adventure, he knew he’d be all the better for it.

When they were sitting on her sofa, dishes rinsed and in the sink, both sipping on a glass of wine, Quinn felt like he’d been transported to another world. Finding peace and comfort this quickly on a trip that he’d booked on a whim? It was the last thing he’d been expecting.

“You know, you already look a little lighter,” Renée said, breaking their comfortable silence.

“I feel it. My…job really can be so stressful. I hadn’t realised it was this bad though,” he admitted.

Renée seemed to hesitate slightly before smiling. “I can imagine the hockey season is draining.”

The hockey season. She knew. Oh fuck, she knew who he was? He found himself freezing, no idea what his face was doing but it was enough for Renée to wince.

“I’m not French. At least, I’m not from France. I’m from Montreal, born and raised,” she admitted, nerves all over her face now, “I swear I’m not going to post on social media about you or even tell anyone about you. Your reasons for taking a break are yours and yours alone.”

Quinn let out a shaky breath, trying to smile but he clearly failed because Renée pulled out her phone with a determined look.

“Here, my Instagram. And I can show you facebook too. I don’t have whatever the hell twitter is now and I never have done. I haven’t posted about you and I won’t, I promise. I’m not lying,” she said firmly.

Quinn took the offered phone, scrolling a little through her Instagram posts, noting that there hadn’t been anything posted since they’d met three days ago. He still felt a little shaky but the fact that she went out of her way to prove to him, to reassure him…it helped, a little.

“Thank you for your honesty,” he murmured.

“I didn’t realise straight away. Not until you mentioned Vancouver,” she added.

Well that was something at least.

“I was so sure that no-one would recognise me this far away from home,” he said softly.

She winced again, before smiling sadly.

“If you want, we can go our separate ways and you don’t have to see me again for the whole two weeks you’re here. I don’t want to ruin your time away. That’s literally the last thing I want.”

The full two weeks without seeing her? Something about that sat badly in his stomach, sinking like a stone, and he found himself shaking his head.

“No. No I don’t want that. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, not judging me for being a hot mess, and I believe you when you say that you won’t tell anyone I’m here. My parents and brothers know I’m in France but that’s literally it. Anyone else that wants to know where I am can ask them,” Quinn explained, “I’m enjoying spending time with you, if you don’t mind spending it with me.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. Because I’m definitely enjoying spending time with you,” she said, her smile a little shy now.

For some reason, her shyness made his breath hitch in his chest, enough for him to need to cough it away.

“I’m sure. I’m pretty sure my French isn’t up to the task anyway,” he said, trying to shift the tone of conversation a little, to ease the tension he felt creeping up his neck.

Renée just laughed, making him blush slightly. That was better, even if it was at his expense.

“Your bakery order this morning wasn’t half bad! You’ll get there,” she teased, “Was there anything in particular that you wanted to see or do while you’re here?”

“The only thing I’d really read about that we haven’t seen is the lavender fields?” he suggested.

Renée grinned and nodded, making him smile. “There’s beautiful lavender fields in Sault that I was hoping to go to. Maybe we could go together?”

Quinn nodded in response, his body sinking into the sofa, releasing tension he hadn’t realised he was holding. She knew who he was...and the world hadn’t ended. She still wanted to spend time with him. He still got to spend time with her. Was this a dream? It felt like a dream.

“I definitely want to do a wine tour of some kind. There’s so many vineyards around here it would be silly not to. And I kind of wanted to do a day trip to Arles, maybe another to Aix-en-Provence, but there’s also the Musée de Petit Palais here in Avignon that I haven’t been to yet which is meant to be beautiful? It’s another UNESCO World Heritage Site, and I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy it too?”

Quinn just took another sip of his wine, allowing her enthusiastic words to wash over him. Whatever she wanted to do, he was here for it. And he couldn’t wait.

~~~

Renée felt like she was floating through a dream. She’d honestly expected Quinn to want nothing to do with her after she admitted knowing who he was, but the fact that he was still willing to spend time with her? To indulge her in all the things she wanted to visit just because he didn’t really have much of a plan himself? Well she was absolutely going to take advantage of that, if it meant spending a little more time with the cutest boy she’d ever met.

For day four of Quinn’s trip, she took him on a Rhône Valley wine tour, just as she’d promised, the two of the tasting all different wines including Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Rasteau, Gigondas, Vacqueyras, Cairanne, Tavel, Lirac, Visan, Sablet and Séguret, across four leading wine estates. It was a long day, long and so much fun, with only two couples joining them on the tour, so they’d had plenty of private time together to enjoy the day as well as pick up a couple of bottles to bring back to the apartment as well as a couple of bottles for home. The two of them had stumbled back to his apartment, barely remembering to pick up some bread and cheese to soak up some of the alcohol, which they’d decimated before passing out on his sofa.

Waking up on day five snuggled into Quinn’s side had been worth the hangover.

The two of them had agreed to keep the day as a quiet one, Renée having volunteered to go out to pick them up fresh bread and fruit and coffee after they’d both showered, spending most the morning reading in a comfortable silence before they ventured out for coffee in the same square as their first day, getting to know each other even more now that he could be more open with her. The two of them traed stories of ridiculous friends and hangovers of time past, before heading back to the little local restaurant they’d been to a couple of times already for dinner again, not wanting to break the happy chilled vibe they’d managed to curate over the day.

On day six, Quinn had surprised her with a trip out to the village of Gordes (with her driving, of course), to a spa day in the Airelles Spa. He’d apparently already booked all their treatments, paying the moment they arrived, and considering how fancy the place was, Renée couldn’t even imagine how much money he’d spent on her. But he’d stayed firm in his decision, a streak of confidence that sent her heartbeat fluttering just that little bit faster. It was a side of him she hadn’t seen before, but if he wanted to treat her to a day of relaxation, she wasn’t going to complain.

Alongside the typical swimming pool and steam room, both of them had a neck, shoulders and scalp massage, followed by a thermal mud mineral wrap, and finishing off with a ‘golden glow’ facial. It was honestly the most relaxed Renée had ever felt, but the fact that she did all of this alongside Quinn? With him looking like years of stress had been lifted off of him? She barely had the words to describe it. It didn’t help that he spent the day in bathing shorts and her in a one-piece swimming costume – his toned torso was distracting enough. The spa itself wasn’t that busy at all, so the two of them had essentially the whole place to themselves most the time, and Renée felt like she’d grown closer to him throughout the day more than she ever had to any friend, let alone any guy. It was a personal intimacy, to spend such time in platonic closeness, leaving her a bit overwhelmed with the whole situation, if she was being honest.

Quinn’s pleased smile while they had an early dinner in the village of Gordes kept her quiet though. If he was happy, she was happy.

It was on day seven that everything changed.

The two of them had strolled along the Rhône river in the morning with a cup of coffee each, taking in the scenery and taking their time, heading to the jardin du Rocher des Doms for a picnic. Quinn had brought along one of their bottles of wine from their wine tour, and they’d picked up a second bottle alongside some water, fresh bread, sharp cheese, grapes and strawberries, as well as a couple of chocolate studded pastries from the bakery, all carefully placed into Quinn’s rucksack with a blanket from Renée’s sofa. The two of them settled on a vacant patch of grass away from most other groups, giving them the illusion of privacy, Quinn pouring them a glass of their wine before raising his glass in a toast.

“To the most amazing holiday of my life. To meeting an amazing new friend. To another week of this bliss.”

Renée blushed lightly but clinked her glass against his, taking a sip of the wine that instantly sent her back to the day of their tour with its smooth taste. She cleared her throat, shaking her head to bring her back to the present, smiling at Quinn’s confused look.

“It’s nothing. Shall we eat?”

And the two of them did, a bite at a time, soft bread with sharp cheese with refreshing grapes, saving the strawberries and pastries for dessert, talking for the several hours it took them to finish all the food while they basked in the sunshine and light breeze, long enough to finish both bottles of wine as well. Long enough that Renée felt a little light-headed from the alcohol and the company, Quinn’s soft sweet eyes making her head swirl.

She must’ve stayed silent, caught in his gaze, for long enough that Quinn stopped talking too, staring at her eyes in confusion before his gaze flicked down to her mouth. Her breath hitched in her throat, Quinn’s lips parting in a shaky breath…before he leaned over and kissed her, a gentle hand cupping her face.

And then he quickly pulled away, eyes wide in a panic.

“Fuck, Renée, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…well, I did, but-”

Renée pressed a finger to his lips to stop his rambling, let out a shaky breath of her own. Quinn just froze, eyes still wide in panic, not daring to move.

“You kissed me. Why?” she managed to say, before removing her finger, feeling the phantom presence of his lips on her skin.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he huffed out a laugh.

“Because I wanted to? Because you’re beautiful and hilarious and so cool and it seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Oh wow. That…wasn’t what she was expecting. He thought she was beautiful?

“You think I’m beautiful?” she murmured.

“Yeah, I do.”

It was all Renée could do to lean forward and kiss him again. Quinn made a soft noise of surprise but didn’t hesitate to kiss her back, his hand sliding across her cheek to cup her cheek again. The kisses stayed soft and slow and sweet, only a hint of tongue, but they sent electricity thrumming through Renée’s veins all the same. Never had such an innocent embrace set her heart racing like this. Never. Never had such a sweet boy kissed her so sweetly.

She didn’t know how long they spent kissing, time losing all meaning as she lost herself in his lips, both of them breathless by the time she pulled away.

“Wow,” was all she could murmur, Quinn’s lips looking as swollen as hers felt.

Quinn just laughed, breathless and carefree, making her dart forward to press one last lingering kiss to his lips, earning a soft moan of protest from him when she sat backwards.

“We could, um…”

She trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. He just smiled softly at her.

“We could what?” he prompted.

Her cheeks flushed with a light blush, feeling bold with her thoughts.

“I really liked kissing you. And I know we’ve only known each other a week…but we could fool around no strings for your last week here? There’s no harm in it, right? A little summer vacation fling?”

The moment the words left her lips, she felt mortified. She’d never even thought about doing something like this before, let alone suggesting it, and the fact that Quinn looked stunned didn’t help her feel any better about acting like a floozy.

“Yes.”

His breathy confirmation brought her out of her thoughts, and a smile spread across her face before she could stop herself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Quinn nodded, smiling back at her. “You’re right, there’s no harm in it. I really liked kissing you too.”

Well that was all she needed to hear. Renée leaned forward again, sliding her hand into his hair this time, letting the feeling of his curls between her fingers ground her as she kissed him slowly, unable to stop herself smiling as Quinn kissed her back with a happy sigh.

And that was how they spent the rest of their afternoon, shifting between slow kisses and sweet conversation, sipping the water they’d brought along too, before they eventually headed back to their apartments, changing quickly before heading out to dinner in the little local restaurant they’d been to most nights now, holding hands the entire walk. It felt a little surreal, if she was being honest, that a guy as cute as Quinn was happy to fool around with her when he could have anyone else he wanted. But there was no way she was taking back her crazy proposition now, not if she could have just a little bit of him before he left in seven days.

Spending a couple of hours making out on his sofa before she went back to her own apartment to sleep was the perfect way to end a perfect day.

~~~

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Not when she left his apartment last night after they made out for hours on his sofa, soft and sweet shifting to heated and intense. Not when he tried to sleep but couldn’t get the thought of the way her body felt straddling his waist, his hands desperate to move from where he’d planted them on her waist. Not when he woke up hard as a rock, needing no more than a few moments and a gasp of her name before he was dizzy all over again.

The moment that Renée’s surprising suggestion had reached his ears, he’d felt like he was in an alternative dimension. Things like this didn’t happen to him. Not in real life. Not to him.

And yet here he was, sitting beside her while she drove them out to Arles for a day trip, lips still buzzing where she’d kissed him good morning and passed him a cup of fresh coffee.

But it wasn’t just the physical aspects of it all that was consuming him, as incredible as it all was. He was falling for her, fast. He wasn’t stupid, as much as the hockey player stereotype usually proved. He knew enough about himself to know that Renée was exactly his type – beautiful, funny, smart, and so full of a genuine happy energy. Loved trying new things. Found the little stories of everything fascinating. Had excellent taste in wine. Was an amazing cook. Had a laugh that made his heartbeat race. It was insane how much he already liked her, and it felt stupid the more he thought about because he’d only known her a week. Just one week, seven days, and she had him caught hook, line, and sinker. He still wasn’t sure how he was lucky enough that she was even interested in fooling around with him but he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity, as much as it was probably going to break his heart when he went back home.

But if this morning’s kiss was anything to go by, with the way that he was still floating on air right now, maybe it was exactly what he needed after all.

It only took 45 minutes for them to drive to Arles, Renée finding parking easily with the mid-week calm.

They headed straight to the Arènes d'Arles, the Roman amphitheatre, taking a tour of the incredible two tier structure as well as taking a bunch of photo of each other – as well as a couple of selfies for their own personal stashes. Unfortunately there wasn’t a concert that night – which, if he’d known there were concerts here, he would’ve planned better – and the bullfighting wasn’t on either, but it was still incredible to wander about the 2,500 year history.

The two of them also headed on the Van Gogh walk, Quinn having no idea that the artist had actually lived in Arles for 16 months in the late 19th century. What was incredibly endearing was Renée’s enthusiasm for spotting the locations referenced in his art work, including the Quai du Rhône for the starry night, and Lamartine Square for the yellow house. The walk took them several hours but by the time they’d reached the end of it, Renée was practically giddy, and that alone was worth it for Quinn.

After a lunch stop, the two of them headed to the Cloître Saint-Trophime, another incredible UNESCO World Heritage Site, exploring the cathedral and grounds at their usual easy pace, snapping a few photos – until an older lady approached them with a smile.

“Vous êtes un beau couple. Tu veux que je prenne une photo?”

Renée immediately blushed but nodded, handing her phone over. Quinn just looked at her, curiously.

“She says we’re a beautiful couple and asked if we would like a photo.”

Oh wow. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, sliding his arm over Renée’s shoulders as she wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into his body as the lady snapped a couple of photos of them. She returned Renée’s phone with an indulgent smile, Renée murmuring a soft merci beaucoup in thanks, and Quinn wasted no time in throwing an arm over her shoulder again to see her phone screen.

The first photo took his breath away, with how easy they looked together. The old lady was right – they did look like a beautiful couple.

“You look so happy,” Renée said softly, smiling up at him.

“I am happy,” he said honestly.

Her cheeks flushed and she quickly looked back down at her phone, but he knew that she was smiling.

“I promise not to post it anywhere,” she said quickly.

Because there was no denying that this wasn’t just friendship in that photo.

“Okay, sure. Can you still send it to me though?” he asked hopefully.

She giggled but nodded, sending the photo by airdrop before leaning up to give him a quick kiss. As she pulled away, Quinn felt just as breathless as he did the first time he kissed her. It was getting harder and harder to deny his feelings, that was for sure.

The two of them spent a little more time in Arles before driving back to Avignon, going to their separate apartments to freshen up before heading out for dinner. Typically, they headed out to their little local restaurant – hell, they were practically regulars at this point – and their usual waitress showed them to a table in the corner.

The waitress murmured something to Renée after she handed them their menus, making Renée blush deeply and laugh as she walked away, to which Quinn just looked at her curiously.

“Maude was teasing us. Said it’s about that that we admitted our romance,” Renée admitted.

Well damn. First the old lady in Arles and now their waitress? Did they really look that natural together?

“Alors.”

Quinn startled slightly at Maude’s voice, but let out a huff of laughter as she presented a bottle of ruby red wine. The waitress rattled off a stream of fast French, to which Renée laughed again, shaking her head.

“She said the wine is free for new lovers.”

Now it was Quinn’s turn to blush, earning laughter from both women.

“Merci pour le vin,” he stumbled out, his translation hesitant.

But Maude just beamed, patting his shoulder.

“Bien!”

He slumped back in his chair, letting Renée order for them both, knowing that she could see he was a little overwhelmed and also knowing the food he liked by now. It was easy. Too easy. Why was he getting himself so worked up about this?

“Cheers, Quinn.”

Renée’s soft words brought him out of his thoughts, seeing her raising a glass of the wine to him and that she’d already poured him a glass too, so he quickly lifted his glass with a smile and clinked it gently against hers.

It was very good wine.

True to form, the two of them spent a couple of hours eating, talking, and drinking, just basking in each other’s company, and Quinn tried not to let himself overthink things. No strings, easy fun. He could roll with this.

It was late when the two of them ended up back in his apartment, kissing the moment that Quinn shut the door behind them, and they stumbled over to the sofa without breaking apart. It was consuming, heated, passionate like never before, and Quinn found himself sliding his hands under her clothes, helping her undress as she helped him undress too. It wasn’t until they were down to their underwear that Quinn pulled away to take a ragged breath, eyes roving over her tanned skin bathed in the moonlight that streamed in through the windows.

“Bed?” he asked, more than a little breathless as his hands clutched at her bare waist.

“Yes, take me to bed Quinn,” she murmured.

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

~~~

The next few days felt like they flew by. Renée tried to hold onto each moment, to savour each memory, but when each moment was just as happy as the last, it was hard to distinguish them. Throughout days nine, ten, eleven, and twelve of Quinn’s trip, Renée tried hard to make sure that he experienced as many local things as well as a couple of more exciting trips, to keep his vacation as full as possible.

In Avignon, the two of them visited the Musée de Petit Palais, another UNESCO World Heritage Site, home to an incredible collection of paintings from the 13th to the 15th century. They also went to the Cathédrale Notre-Dame-des-Doms. It was right next to the Palais des Papes, where they’d visited earlier in their trip, and well worth the visit – the frescoes, marble statues and golden statue of the Virgin Mary in the interior were incredible, and another moment for a few photos of the two of them.

Those were mostly for Renée’s memories at this point. She wasn’t going to lie to herself.

As a fun activity, Renée booked them on a lunchtime cruise along The Rhône, listening to the tour guide give them a fascinating description from the water’s edge, murmuring the translation into Quinn’s ear as they went – a perfect excuse to sit practically in his lap, although she didn’t think he minded with the way he had his arm wrapped tight around her waist.

They also took a day trip to Aix-en-Provence, just as she’d asked for.  It took them just over an hour to drive, easy in the morning traffic, and she felt lost in the incredible art history, grateful to Quinn for indulging her yet again. They visited the art studio of Cezanne, as well as his works displayed in the Granet Museum. The museum also displayed works by Picasso, Rembrandt, and Ingres, all of which Quinn listened to her ramble about with avid attention. They had an extended coffee break in Cours Mirabeau, visited the beautiful Vendôme Pavilion, before eating a romantic candlelit dinner looking over a busy square, all light up with twinkling lights.

Her favourite day though? A trip to the local farmer’s market again, when they’d eaten fresh peaches and kissed the slick juice off each other’s lips.

All of this mixed with intense incredible sex every single day only led Renée to one conclusion. She was falling in love with him, slowly but surely, and she felt so damn stupid when she realised it, lying naked in his arms while Quinn snored quietly next to her. How could she not feel stupid? He was leaving soon – he only had two days left in Avignon – and there was nothing she could do about it. She was the one that suggested no strings fun after all, although she should’ve known that would’ve come back around to bite her in the ass.

Nothing good could come from this realisation. Nothing at all.

But she would be damned if she wasn’t going to live these final two days with him to the fullest.

~~~

Quinn woke up on his penultimate day with a heavy heart. Not because of the beautiful woman lying naked in his arms, no. Well…no, not really. It wasn’t her fault, after all, that he was falling in love with her. She’d never asked for that, nothing more than fooling around, but here he was thinking like a fool anyway.

That didn’t stop him from kissing the sleepy smile off her face when she woke up, happily making her cry out his name with his face between her thighs too.

After the two of them had showered separately in their own apartments, because he knew damn well that he couldn’t keep his hands off her at this point, they headed out to central Avignon for their final day trip. Today, they were heading to Sault, to the lavender fields, as part of a half day trip with a private guide. Apparently the trips were for a maximum of eight people in a minibus, but there was only one other couple booked in for their trip today, so Quinn was buzzing about having more private time with Renée.

The ride from Avignon only took one hour, but before they got to the fields, they made a stop at the lavender distillery Arôma Plantes. Alongside a little museum, where they learnt about lavender oil production, there was a little store, where Quinn happily bought a ton of gifts for his family to take home with him, and Renée bought her own fair share too. When they finally arrived at the fields though, Quinn had to admit he was a little breathtaken with the vast beauty. The bright colours alone were stunning, and he made sure to take a ton of candid photos of Renée as well as a couple of posed shots, letting her do the same for him before the tour guide took a few photos of them together, getting all the angles in to make them laugh.

The laughing photos ended up being his favourite of the whole selection, if he was being honest.

They visited three fields in total for about 15-20 minutes each, before heading to the village of Sault for a lunch stop, sharing a bottle of wine between them (with the other couple doing the same). By the time they headed back to Avignon, Quinn had a steady buzz from the wine as well as the rush of the day, and it was easy to fall back into his bed with Renée for the afternoon, only leaving to shower separately when his stomach rumbled with hunger.

They changed apartments for dinner, Renée having a better kitchen set-up than he did. He watched her cook for them in a comfortable silence, sipping water to clear his head as much as was possible, smiling at her every time she caught him watching her.

“I’m really going to miss you.”

There it was. He’d blurted it out without meaning to, cringing at the raw honesty in his voice. Renée looked more than a little stunned, turning the stop top burner to low before looking at him properly.

“You’re going to miss me?” she said hesitantly, “Or you’re going to miss this time in Provence?”

“You. Both. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense when I say it out loud, but I can’t believe how quickly these past two weeks have flown by? If I could live in a bubble with you here in Avignon, time standing still and nothing changing, then I would,” he said, laughing a little incredulously.

Renée smiled sadly. “The time has flown by. Avignon with you will always hold a place in my heart. I’m going to miss it too.”

“You’re leaving Avignon?” he asked, confused.

She seemed to hesitate slightly, maybe a little confused, before she nodded.

“I’m leaving France entirely soon – I’m due to head home myself. My Schengen 90 day visa runs out at the end of May.”

Her whole trip was ending?

She was heading home too?

She was heading back to Canada, back to Montreal?

Why hadn’t she said anything these past few days? Why had they only focused on him, only spoken about his trip ending?

While he got lost in his thoughts, Renée finished off cooking, and the two of them sat down to eat in silence. As always, the food was incredible, and he made sure to let her know that, earning the usual modest blush, and they finished off a bottle of wine on the sofa, ending the evening with the slow, sweet kisses that had gotten him lost in her nearly a week ago.

But rather than falling into bed together like they had done all week, Quinn had left for his own apartment with a goodnight kiss, admitting he hadn’t yet packed his suitcase at all, and he didn’t want to rush that tomorrow.

Renée had laughed at him, teasing smile making him blush, but she waved him off with another kiss that left him conflicted. Because while it was true he had yet to pack his suitcase, he also wanted to think.

She lied about leaving Avignon. Why?

No, not lied. Just omitted. He knew she was over on a visa, but it hadn’t occurred to him the timings of her trip and she hadn’t stated it. Why?

Maybe she just was protecting herself. But why?

The more he thought about it, the more overwhelmed he felt, until he was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. Why did he care so much? Why had he let her get into his head like this? Why had he allowed her to consume his heart like this?

Because that what it was, wasn’t it? He was falling in love with her, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, and now there was a slightest fraction of a chance that this didn’t have to end because they would be in the same country for most of the year.

It was the tiniest sliver of a chance but as soon as he thought of it, his greedy heart clutched onto the hope with all of its strength.

This season had been one of the hardest, both physically and mentally, and he’d taken this trip to make a change in his life. A change he had so desperately needed. Was Renée this change? Had she changed him? Meeting her was the first thing that made him feel good in a long time. He was damn sure that he wouldn’t have had nearly as good a time in Avignon if it hadn’t been for her. He knew that, down to his bones.

He had to tell her how he felt. It would be stupid not to, with him leaving tomorrow. At least that way he would know for certain. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, right? He needed to take this shot, for his own heart’s sake.

Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning he would tell her, and he could only hope for the best.

~~~

Renée woke up to the sound of a series of rapid knocks on her front door, jolting her from her sleep and her empty bed. Going to bed had been strange last night, without Quinn by her side as she’d had all week, but she knew that was stupid to hold onto. He was leaving today, after all, so she needed to let go of him. She wouldn’t survive otherwise.

Still the knocking continued, so she got up with a yawn, shuffling to open the door, only to reveal Quinn standing there far earlier than normal. He was fully dressed, holding two coffees in a holder with a bag of pastries under one arm…and a bouquet of flowers?

The most beautiful colourful fresh flowers that she’d ever seen too.

“Are these for me?”

Damn her lack of caffeine.

Quinn huffed out a laugh, smiling fondly down at her, making traitorous butterflies swirl in her stomach.

“Yes, they are. Can I come in?” he asked.

She just nodded, still a little stunned at the beautiful bouquet, Quinn heading straight for the kitchen to put them in a vase, leaving the coffees and pastries on the kitchen island as he did so.

“Quinn…” she murmured, prompting as he put the flowers on the island next to them.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly, before he moved to stand next to her and cleared his throat.

“I’m leaving today. I’m leaving and I can’t change it, so I need to tell you before I regret not saying anything,” he said softly.

“Tell me what?” she asked, dangerous hope starting to seep into her heart.

“That I’m falling in love with you.”

Her lips parted in surprise as her heart felt like it skipped beat. He was falling in love with her?

“Renée Moreau…you’ve made me feel alive for the first time in a long time. Every time I look at you my heart wants to sing and I don’t want that to end. These two weeks have been the most amazing weeks of my life, especially this past week, and I had to tell you how I feel before I burst. Is there even the slightest chance that you feel the same for me too?”

His words washed over her in an emotional wave that she had not been expecting. It was the last thing she’d been expecting, if she was being honest, never daring to hope that he was falling for her like she was falling for him. She felt stunned, shocked into silence as pure giddiness rushed through her. He felt the same? He didn’t want this to end either?

Just as Quinn’s face started to shutter in her silence, Renée lurched forward and kissed him, cupping his face with both hands. Quinn moaned softly, kissing her back with an intensity that left her breathless, but she didn’t dare pull away from him until she started to feel dizzy, resting her forehead against his shoulder with shaky breaths. This was real. He was falling in love with her too. She wasn’t dreaming.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Renée. I admire your free spirit, and your courage, so much. Just going out into the world to figure out what it is that you want rather than coasting along in repetitive nothingness? You’re inspiring, and you make me want to live life to its fullest, every day.”

She choked out a sob against his shirt, lifting her head to look up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I don’t feel brave. In fact sometimes I feel like I’m free falling because I have no destination, and it's terrifying. But you…you’re dedicated to your career, to your family, to everything you love. You commit, wholeheartedly, and you inspire me, Quinn Hughes. You make me want to set roots and figure out what settling down means. You’re special, in every single way, and I really hope I can make you see exactly how special you are.”

It was Quinn’s turn to have tears spring to his eyes, and he shook his head a little incredulously, like he couldn’t believe his good fortune, before he just leant down to kiss her again, the kiss staying slow and warm, toe-curling in its sweetness before he pulled away once more.

“I don’t know what the future will hold. I don’t know how we’ll make it work between Vancouver and Montreal. But I want to figure it out, if you want to too?”

“I do, I really do,” she said, smiling through happy tears.

After spending the rest of Quinn’s last day in bed together, Renée drove him to the train station that evening. He was going to take a taxi, same as his way into Avignon, but Renée insisted, needing that last kiss goodbye. As she watched him wheel his suitcase into the station, ready to head to Lyon and then back to Detroit, her heart was aching dreadfully.

But she would see him again, she knew it.

~~~

The beginning of August felt like the beginning of a new chapter for Quinn. Not just because his off-season training had left him feeling strong, ready for the new upcoming season, but because Renée was arriving today to spend two weeks with him at his family’s house in Michigan. She was coming to meet his family, to finally see them in person, and he was so excited and nervous that he felt like he was going to burst.

The two of them had video called every single day since he arrived home, when she was still in Avignon as well as when she arrived home in Montreal, him meeting her parents over video call and her talking to his parents and Jack and Luke on the calls too – but now they would actually be meeting her in person. It was different. It was real. He wanted to scream and shout and throw up and pass out, all at once, all in the best possible way.

From the moment he woke up, despite his mom encouraging him to keep on track with his morning work-out at the rink with Jack and Luke, he felt like he’d been waiting hours for her to arrive. And sure, his brothers had been ruthlessly teasing him for essentially sitting in the front bay window, but  his mom ushered them away as best as she could. He didn’t care though, they could tease him all they wanted – he had the most amazing girl who actually liked him coming to visit. Soon enough, a car pulled up outside the house. Renée had insisted on getting a taxi from the airport, insisting she needed the time to pull herself together – but that didn’t mean Quinn couldn’t rush out of the house to greet her away from his family.

“Hey, you’re here,” he murmured, clutching her hands.

“I’m here,” she grinned.

Quinn wasted no time in kissing her, just a few short soft kisses that he needed, before pulling her tightly into a hug, Renée burying her face in his neck, the two of them keeping that embrace for a few seconds before pulling back with shaky smiles.

“Ready to meet my family?” he asked, picking up her suitcase.

“I think so?” she said.

Her tone of voice made him pause slightly, before he caught her gaze over his shoulder, and there pressed against the window were his brothers, gawking at them like lions at a zoo. Quinn just rolled his eyes, tangling his fingers with hers as they walked towards the house. He couldn’t apologise for Jack and Luke enough, he knew that much.

Meeting his parents went smoothly, his mom immediately pulling her into a firm hug while his dad just looked proud. Jack and Luke were a little more chaotic, but his mom (and thank god for her) broke up the intensity by letting them head upstairs to get Renée settled while she finished off putting lunch together, dragging his brothers out with her to set the table.

He’d cleared a little space for her in his drawers and wardrobe, allowing her to unpack fully with a shy pleased smile, and Renée didn’t take long putting everything away, Quinn watching her from his bed with a soft smile.

She was really here.

She was in his room, she’d met his family, she was staying for two weeks.

Renée was really here.

“So…”

She straddled his lap as she spoke, Quinn instinctively wrapping his arms around her waist as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“So…” he repeated, teasing.

Renée laughed, kissing him slowly, sweetly, just enough tongue to send his head swirling as she pulled away.

“Remember how one of the conditions of my parents paying for me to go to France for three months was that I would work for my dad’s company when I got back?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah, I remember. What about it?” he asked, still a little stunned from the kiss.

“This is where I tell you that my dad has approved for me to run the social media accounts and minor marketing from a remote location,” she said, a little hesitant.

From a remote location.

Quinn inhaled sharply, lips parting slightly. “Does that mean…” he trailed off, eyes wide.

They’d talked about it, what the long distance between Vancouver and Montreal would mean, how difficult it would be. What possibilities they had. What the future could be.

Renée bit her bottom lip before nodding. “It means I can move to Vancouver with you. It means that my dad really likes you, and trusts that I can build a life with you while still doing my job. You know, if you still want me around.”

She would be coming to Vancouver with him. This was more than he could have hoped for after he’d met her, let alone after how last season ended. Was he dreaming? He didn’t think he was dreaming.

“Of course I do, are you kidding me? This is amazing!” Quinn grinned.

Renée laughed in delight as he pressed kisses all over her face, still giggling as he kissed her full on the lips, easily melting into the kiss as he slid a hand deep into her blonde curls, holding her tight to him. But then she broke away, resting her forehead against his for a breath or two before lifting her head to look into his eyes.

“You don’t think it’s too soon? We’ve only known each other twelve weeks! And we’ve only had two of those in each other’s company!” she said, hesitant.

No, he couldn’t have her hesitant. That was the last thing he wanted.

“My mom always says when you know, you know. And I know with you, Renée. Yeah, maybe it’s a little crazy, but it’s a good crazy? I don’t want to waste my life regretting something that has the potential to be amazing, just because it's not conventional,” he said seriously, smiling softly before that smile shifted to a frown, “You’re not having second thoughts, right?”

A lump rose in his throat at the passion in his own words, tears springing to his eyes as she shook her head.

“No second thoughts here at all. I just wanted to make sure – I had to say it. Because I know other people will be thinking it, even if they don’t say it too,” Renée said simply, smiling sadly at him.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks. You make me want to be brave, Renée, and I can’t wait to see where the future takes us,” Quinn said firmly, “Bring on the crazy and bring on these next two weeks.”

She just laughed, nodding again as a couple of tears escaped her eyes. Quinn’s smile softened as he wiped his thumb across a stray tear, before he leaned in to kiss her again. This was everything, right here. The girl of his dreams and the future he’d always hoped for.

“Hey lovebirds, sorry to break up the reunion, but mom wants to feed your girlfriend, Q.”

Quinn groaned as he pulled away, thunking his head on her collarbone.

“Thank you Luke, we’ll be down in just a moment,” Renée called out, laughing.

“Don’t let Quinn keep you locked away – Jack’s up next and he has a water pistol ready to go.”

Renée just laughed harder as Quinn’s face shifted in a light scowl.

“Bye Luke!” he said firmly, listening to his little brother laugh with annoyance, waiting until he heard footsteps to look back at Renée. “Little brothers are the worst.”

“I don’t know, seems like they love you a lot,” she grinned.

His heart melted a little at her sweet words. Not a lot of people understood the dynamics between him and his brothers, how intense they were, how close they were, but just the fact that Renée accepted their crazy without question?

Well, it said a lot about how well she was going to fit into his family, maybe even forever. But that was something for the future. Baby steps first.

“Ready to head down for lunch?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

“I’m ready.”

~~~

Tagging a few people who might be interested in reading: @wyattjohnston @matthewtkachuk @senditcolton @fallinallincurls @cellythefloshie @sorryjustafangirl @jostyriggslover96 @typical-simplelove @ghostyjosty

[anthurak]

So this is almost certainly going to be an unpopular opinion for some, but for a long time now I’ve been feeling that the RWBY fandom puts just a bit TOO much stock in the various fairytale/mythology/literary allusions of the characters when it comes to theory-crafting. It feels like people find out that a certain character A is an allusion to another character B from an already completed story and go ‘Well that must mean that Character A is going to turn out just like Character B!’

Which of course completely ignores that these are allusions and references. Ruby Rose might have strong parallels and similarities to Little Red Riding Hood, but that does not mean she IS literally Little Red Riding Hood. Just as Weiss Schnee is NOT literally Snow White, Penny Polendina is NOT literally Pinocchio and Oscar Pine is NOT literally the Little Prince. Ultimately, whatever allusion a character might have comes SECOND to who they are as an actual character, NOT the other way around.

Whatever allusions a character has might inform what could happen to them, but that should still be treated as secondary to what we actually see them do in the show.

For example, I see a LOT of ships in the RWBY fandom that people seem to largely use interpretations of the characters’ allusions as ‘evidence’, rather than what the characters actually DO in the actual SHOW. Like has anyone noticed that discussions of ships like Bumbleby, Renora, Nuts and Dolts or White Rose have historically not involved much interpretation (relatively speaking anyway) of the potential ‘complimentary allusions’ of these characters? Because there is no NEED to, because all the evidence for these ships is right fucking there on the screen. Meanwhile we’ve got ships (and I am NOT naming names) that people will swear up and down are TOTALLY going to be canon for really-realsies where most or even all of the ‘evidence’ consists of people effectively playing some kind of matching game with their allusions. Or saying nothing more than ‘Character A kinda-sorta resembles the love-interest of Character B’s allusion’.

And ALL of this doesn’t even take into account the biggest factor which I keep getting the impression that WAY too many RWBY fans still having gotten the memo on:

The fact that RWBY literally NEVER plays its allusions STRAIGHT.

All the way from minute one when we saw an allusion to Little Red Riding Hood cutting down a horde of Big Bad Wolves, RWBY has ALWAYS been subverting, inverting, flipping, twisting and otherwise playing it’s allusions, references and archetypes literally ANY way but actually STRAIGHT.

Little Red Riding Hood hunts the Big Bad Wolf. Snow White is equal parts Princess AND Knight in Shining Armor. Cinderella is a tragic villain origin story. Pinocchio was always a real girl. The Great and Powerful Wizard Oz is far more powerful than anyone thought, but is ALSO far more of a fraud than anyone thought.

So when people use these characters’ allusions as some kind of rigid road-map to theorize what might happen to them, it’s not just that this detracts from their identity as their own characters; the story itself isn’t even using that map!

I mean speaking personally, that’s what has always made RWBY theory-crafting FUN. Trying to guess how the writers might twist and flip the allusions they’re using. But that also means that the allusions of the various characters simply DON’T actually provide ANY kind of accurate ‘road-map’ for where they might be going. Instead, the best we can do is use what the actual show has actually shown us to get any kind of idea where the characters are headed.

Ultimately, I feel like too often I see that when people are making theories about RWBY characters, they are treating them more like the characters they are based on, instead of the characters they actually ARE.

[abybweisse]

Ch210, Where is F. O. L. Orphanage?

⚠️ long post ⚠️

I was discussing that question with @juxl25, and I think we came up with a good choice for its location.

The only information we know for sure is that it's in Norfolk, and that it's near a river. We also know Finny and Snake took a train to a nearby town and walked to the orphanage.

We also know there's a wind pump that drains water from the surrounding marshland. There are at least four major rivers in the area used for draining the marshes: Yare, Bure, Wensum, and Ouse.

Juxl25 suggested River Yare and the historic Red Mill (the wind pump) as the area but was looking at Manor House, which is farther away, in the village (proper) of Haddiscoe, Norfolk. After some digging around, I agree with River Yare and Red Mill/Langley Detached mill (originally called Langley detached windpump...

...or Langley Detached drainage pump).

They are in an area northeast of Haddiscoe village, called Haddiscoe Island (these days), thanks to a canal added to connect River Yare and River Waveney farther inland, creating an island of the area and making the marshland there more remote/less accessible.

There's a historic farmhouse just east of River Yare, not far from Red Mill, called Raven Hall. And Raven Hall would be a premium location to have a secluded facility like F. O. L. Orphanage.

There's only one thing I don't like about the buildings shown for Raven Hall -- it's a bit farther from the drainage pump than I want it to be, and it's just a large farmhouse (almost 3000 sqft) and a long barn (almost 900 sqft). But there's a cool space just south of those buildings, which would be ideal for the main orphanage, as well as a spot for the stables/barn leading closer to the drainage pump, farther south. Here are two options for the placement of F. O. L.:

In each case, I've placed the stables to the west of the main house, as a small red rectangle (more or less), while the windpump was already marked by a red dot farther southwest. Looking at the bend of the river on Theo's image of a map of the place, the placement on the right (above) might be the better match. Then again, it could be exactly where Raven Hall is located. And Raven Hall, having been built in the 17th century (or at least 1700), is older than Red Mill (built in 1840).

Too bad I can't see the placement of the windpump on his map, but I think it's somewhere behind the speech bubbles on the left side of the panel.

We see that the windpump at the orphanage has a low roof of some kind, and juxl25 explains that someone was probably living onsite just to maintain it full time. I did find at least one pic showing Red Mill with what could be the old maintenance shed/shelter, but it seemed to be on the wrong side. Who knows? I guess it depends on which way the sails are facing to catch the wind? But the low roof in the panel is probably just the top of some shed.

Oh, and near St Olaves, there's a train station called Haddiscoe Station. They could have got off the train there and made their way north to the orphanage by foot. Or did they hitch a ride part of the way? I'll have to go back and check.

I'm still considering one other location, not far from there, but I won't post it unless further research looks more promising.

Hey... can you imagine if all this time... F. O. L. was just some place name reference... like "Farmhouse on Langley" (Marshes)?!?

Please let these kids break the windpump and flood the tunnels.... 🙏

[utilitycaster]

@rowzeoli replied to your post “@rowzeoli replied to your post “Do you think part...”:

There's a lot to tackle on this so I'll do my best to cover it all! So I totally get where you're coming from and to be fair yes there are some things in old articles that I don't agree with any more in deeming people having done things "first" which is part of the issue of not having a collective historical memory around actual play as it moves so quickly. Most of the issue isn't that readership is down it's that AI and venture capitalism is destroying journalism

​

Hey, sorry for taking a bit to respond; it's been a hectic week and I wanted to give it some thought and time.

I'll start off with the good: I really do, again, appreciate you engaging here, and on the strength of that alone I am going to at least give Rascal's free articles a good solid chance for a while; I have been, admittedly, tarring it with the brush of a lot of frustrations (see below) and I know it's relatively new and still finding its place and should get a bit more of my patience. I also should note that while your article did hit on a lot of the patterns that have turned me - and no small amount of others - off of a lot of AP/TTRPG journalism it is by no means the worst example. The things you credited Burrow's End for are, admittedly, more obscure single-episode events within a huge body of work. Or in other words: there are bylines in the space that make me go "oh this is going to be bad" and yours is not one of them.

With that said: I'm sorry, but Polygon's bias is not a matter of time crunch or lack of funding. There is no way that a time crunch or lack of funding would consistently, over years (this was already word on the street at latest when EXU Calamity came out almost 2 years ago) result in a message of "D20 can do no wrong, and Critical Role rarely does right." If it were throwing out harsh criticism or glowing praise for a wide variety of shows, sure, that seems like it could come from not having a lot of time...but this goes beyond coincidence. It's a reputation that long precedes your entry into the field. As some others in the replies have noted, I might have written the most about it on Tumblr, but it's at this point not an uncommon observation. This also isn't an issue for other publications in a similar "nerd stuff" space - there's plenty of articles on, say, Dicebreaker or Comicbook.com that I don't care for, either because I disagree with the opinion or I think the analysis isn't really worthwhile, but those tend to at least have a mix of positive and critical articles about most shows. When I said you could treat Polygon articles like Madlibs, I meant it. And so I think it's great that you are no longer chasing "groundbreaking", for example, is not a solid ground for an article, but this also is showing me that even relatively new journalists are, very early on, starting with this exact formula. In some ways, that's more damning.

I do also want to add that I'm again, sympathetic to the lack of resources and to coming into a field with passionate and nitpicky fans who have been here for years. Not knowing about a single Critical Role one-shot from 2018 is something that I'd have been much more lenient about if it weren't hitting those repetitive notes of "D20 is great/this thing is groundbreaking/look at the production values." But the other article I posted, also from Polygon but not written by you, is, to be honest, pretty inexcusable. I get there's a lot of lost institutional memory...but either being unaware of, or ignoring the fact that there are a huge number of long-running actual play podcasts that play longform campaigns? That's pretty much on par, in terms of whether your audience trusts you, of the New York Times international news desk not being able to locate Russia on a map (though obviously with far less serious real-world ramifications). (The fact that this was written by a prominent actual play scholar meanwhile is like, I don't know, Neil DeGrasse Tyson not knowing how gravity works, but that's a separate topic).

And again, I get these are your colleagues. I have the luxury of being able to run my mouth without putting my livelihood at stake, and that's not true for people within the industry. I do not expect you to say anything ill about them, nor would I judge any specific individual for getting published in Polygon since I get that people are pitching to a number of sites so that they can get paid! But when I say "Polygon's AP/TTRPG coverage is at needs-a-change-of-leadership levels of bad" I am not alone in this, and it's something that has probably been true for easily 3+ years if not longer. Because it's one of the more prominent publications in the space (ironically, due to Justin McElroy of TAZ being a founder, and the fact that its videogame division is quite good and has had some viral videos, it had enviable name recognition among AP fans that it's only squandered since) it really is at a point where hitting that same formula in any AP journalism - claiming everything is groundbreaking, putting an emphasis on high production values, D20 good and CR bad - makes fans go "oh, more of this bullshit." I don't want to say you can't talk about these things - I definitely do not want to say that you cannot criticize Critical Role - but that specific well is has been poisoned for a long time. If someone hits these points it feels, whether or not it is true, that they're trying to be provocative by going against popular fan opinion, but are simultaneously just saying the same thing we've seen a million times before.

I believe wholeheartedly that from your perspective the competition is AI - and I don't want AI articles either. On the other hand, in terms of what I think fans who are in my position are turning to, it's not AI articles (I'm certainly not). If I want analysis, I'm probably, at this point, going to social media; I am not the only person who writes longform meta or analysis for fun, and I'll seek others who do out. I'm not personally a video essay person, but plenty are, and that's out there too. I'm not going there for reporting on news (I think the Dnd Shorts OGL debacle made it clear that actual journalists are very necessary) but yeah, if I want criticism or analysis? I'm going there instead, especially since there often is that missing institutional memory. If I do want journalism, at this point, some of the bigger shows are getting writeups in less niche publications, particularly Critical Role and D20, as is news of more major tabletop games. It's infrequent and it doesn't highlight indie works, but it tends to be, if nothing else, lacking in major errors or obvious bias. If I want to hear from cast members, at least four of the shows I watch or listen to have regular talkback shows, and Dropout regularly talks to AP/TTRPG figures on Adventuring Academy, and a lot of those shows take viewer questions. Which, again, probably not heartening to hear the competition is even tighter, but I guess my point is I hope it's possible, even with very limited resources, to move away from the above "novelty and production values above all" pattern because even that would do a lot of needed work to rebuild reader trust - and I'm going to be checking out Rascal in the hopes that it can.

[macawritesupdates]

Fic Writing Updates 11/2

Man, I feel slow on writing/posting chapters, but life has been SUPER busy. I 've started a second job which means working 12 hours a day on some days. Just need the extra cash, but means less time for writing unfortunately (and art too :<)

BUT the updates are still going to come out, one way or another! Here are the updates!

JUJUTSU KAISEN LONGFIC UPDATES Broken in the Ways No One Sees: Update is coming tonight and planning on writing out the ending this week to bring this fic to a close! Soon it will be ending... but that leaves a slot open for a new fic to start!

Spouse Wanted: NEARLY done with the chapter. Goal is to finish writing it tonight and edit it tomorrow. Just got to finish up the scene everyone has been waiting for... Culturally Inappropriate: THE SEQUEL IS ALMOST READY.... the first chapter has a final scene to get done, but then, then it is coming... The Yuuji Files: Working on the next chapter at last! Had to tweak the flow of it, but I think the new way adds more stakes, plot, and punch to it. Going to be a wild one!

Lessons in Accidental Seduction: Next chapter is mapped out, just need to start writing it! This story is getting so domestic...

Malevolence of Love: Letting the next chapter simmer a bit. Going to be high on emotions AND I have to do some historical research! So need some time to get all that together and map out the chapter in greater detail! <3

Careful What you Joke About: Next chapter has some work done for it and hopefully won't be long until I can get that fleshed out!

Who's a Good Boy: On the backburner as I don't see a lot of interest for this one, so want to make sure I look at and rework the next chapter so it has a bit more bark to it c:

When You Get Two Grandsons: On the backburner a bit until some of the other fics finish up! A new chapter is in mind, but want to make sure some of the longer/larger fics get their updates!

Mirrored Lives: Still need to work on the rework of this one, but it is still planned to finish once the new rework is finished!

MY HERO ACADAMIA FIC UPDATES

Jealousy is Not a Good Friend: Next chapter is coming along nicely! This fic is taking a DARK AND ANGSTY turn the next chapter. Poor Kirishima is going to go through it...

Unsung Heroes: WANT TO WRITE IT SO BAD. Really need to set aside time to indulge and write out a few chapters!

A Rut Time of It: Will return to it, just want to finish up other fics first!

ONE -SHOTS

Once Upon a Blob: Still trying to map out how I want to proceed with it, but it is slowly in the works

And That's When I knew It (Might change the title though!): I just want to indulge in my rare pair ship of Kirichako okay?

FICS TO COME

Exploration: ABO Sukita short chapter fic. Mostly porn with some plot that I poke at occasionally

We Wretched Few: It is outlined out almost, but going to keep it on the back burner to focus on other fics for a wee bit. Want to get a few of these stories completed first!

Law Meets Disorder: Still slow going. Ran out of steam a bit so letting it simmer until the brain worms inevitably return lol

The Dragon Story: Still drafting it out as it has the worldsetting, but just need to find a plot that holds my attention and lends itself to a good narrative

Collab fic: an ABO hybrid fic writing with a friend! It is turning out good, just taking our time with it, but it is in the works!

[wrishwrosh]

the vaster wilds has the typical goodreads problem of all the negative reviews just being “this book was gross and sad and nothing happened :((“ “the prose was stylized and hard to understand”” but as a gross sad stylized prose enjoyer these critiques do not get to the MEAT of all the evils herein present

- the problem of the enlightened protagonist, where a character who has nominally lived in the real historical past until the book begins and yet somehow manages to individually develop a 21st century twitter-educated perspective on colonialism, god, and nature. classic groffism nothing new

- remember that tweet about how hiking is a bourgeois affectation and indigenous people never hiked before colonization. imagine if that was the premise of an entire novel. written by somebody who went to amherst

- another classic groffism is taking a real historical figure about whom almost nothing is known and constructing a history for them that can’t technically be ruled out as impossible given the dearth of records but IS ahistorical, implausible, and kind of stupid while also making sure that the one thing that is concretely known about this person is weirdly and smugly deemphasized in the narrative. in this case the historical figure is “jane” the anonymous teenage girl whose remains were found at jamestown exhibiting signs of butchering. the cannibalism is treated as a twist ending which is dumb as hell and made the pacing insanely frustrating as this was obvious from the beginning to any true jamestownheads in the audience. also the cannibalism of a young woman seems like an obvious place of exploration for a novel nominally about the exigencies of subsistence survival and how hard it was to be a girl in the dark ages before second wave feminism but what do i know. obviously you should just kind of shoehorn it in as a gotcha in the last 20 pages serving as the millionth indication that the bad guys in this narrative are bad and do bad things

- speaking of the bad guys every single character aside from the narrator is a one dimensional paper doll present to essentially speak one of groffs points directly into camera and then vanish in a way that literally made me laugh out loud several times. Some Women Are Vain, Which Is Bad. Some Men Hurt Women And Native People For Fun, Which Is Evil.

- there was a stylistic decision made to not capitalize proper nouns which sure. it makes sense with what the book is trying to do to not capitalize god or english or powhatan. but then it was so inconsistently applied like why is atlantic (ocean) not capitalized but James (river) is. why is god lowercase but Sunday is uppercase. why are all the names capitalized but titles that function as names arent. stop the madness

- a personal nitpick now but i have spent a lot of time kicking around in the area where the book is set and was hoping at least there would be some evocative descriptions of this place that i love. and yet in this book nominally about wilderness there was so little specificity in the depiction of it! this could have been any forest! the specific natural setting did not feel like a tidewater forest! feels like groff wrote it based on a google search of pamunkey traditional lifestyles and a glance at a topographic map

- cant even get into all the reductive and underresearched gender stuff but know it’s there. classic groffism

- finally and most minimally yet perhaps most egregiously groff has yet again failed to internalize a religious worldview in order to write a religious character. this narrator is a change from marie in matrix as we are sternly informed on page 4 that she believes what she has been told about christianity. like once every 20 pages groff remembers that and has her pray or something and then once she has been away from her culture for about 200 pages she realizes god is a lie and that’s the arc. cool!

- why bother! why bother with this setting, this character, this real place and real historical event and real belief system, if you arent going to USE any of it. this should have been a zine about climate change. it should have been like six tweets. if it needed to be fiction (and im not convinced it did) it should have been a contemporary novel and like three things could have been changed. why! bother!

in summary, i went so insane that i googled every single person mentioned in the acknowledgements to see how many were historians or archaeologists or librarians or ecologists or associates of the pamunkey tribe or anyone else who might be assumed to have expertise here and there was: one. illustrative i think!!!!

[rea-grimm]

Anubis Bayek

You originally planned to spend Halloween with your boyfriend. However, he was on duty that night and could not change or cancel it. That's why nothing kept you at home.

Instead, you agreed with your friends to try the new scary attraction in town. After dark, the museum hosted a spooky dark tour, unguided and only for the brave.

In addition, there was an exhibition of ancient Egypt. That was one of your favourite historical periods. Maybe it was partly due to being with a boyfriend originally from Egypt.

You stood in front of the museum and waited for your friends. You looked at the time on your phone and wanted to text or call Bayek. Too bad he couldn't have a phone at work.

When your friends finally came, you went straight to the museum. The entrance itself was decorated in a spooky way, but nothing extra, rather for small children.

You walked on, checking out the haunted museum, but nothing got you extra excited. In addition, you have already seen the exhibits several times when you were here with Bayek, who created a guide for you many times.

You made it to half of the museum when you came across a corridor that wasn't on the map. Around it were columns with hieroglyphics and other Egyptian themes. However, there was a sign in the middle with the inscription "No entry".

As if the sign wasn't there at all, you went down that corridor. As you passed the entrance to that corridor, a strange feeling washed over you. It tugged at your heart and you had no idea why.

As you passed through the corridor, a spacious hall spread out before you, in the centre of which was an actual pyramid, the entrance of which was guarded by a single statue of Anubis with a spear in hand. Scattered around were sarcophagi, canopy jars and other Egyptian artefacts.

A fire was burning in the bowls around and it seemed as if you were in a completely different place. None of the artifacts were locked away in a glass case and everything was freely accessible.

You had the impression that something was not right here. But you had no idea what it could be. This whole place felt like it shouldn't be there at all.

You were about to leave when one of your friends touched the canopy jar. He took it up in the air to examine it when he accidentally dropped it. As the container fell and shattered into thousands of pieces, the flames in the room rose almost to the ceiling before almost dying out. A cold wind blew into the room and you exchanged worried glances.

Then everything happened too fast. Scarabs began to climb out of the broken container and crawled on a friend who dropped the container. They started climbing on him until they completely enveloped him and dragged him into the pyramid.

At the same moment, the sarcophagus opened, from which mummies began to climb out, and began to crawl at you and your friends. And to make matters worse, the Anubis statue also came to life and charged at you.

The mummies grabbed your friends and carried them to the heart of the pyramid. Jackal, however, mummified your friends with the help of a bandage that fell from his hands. They squirmed on the ground like earthworms and the mummies could carry them away more easily.

You had no idea how you managed it, but in the end, you were the only one left of your entire group.

"You shouldn't have come here!" Anubis spoke sternly and moved closer to you. It sounded creepy, but it just confused you. You would recognize this voice anywhere.

“Bayek?” you asked surprised. When he told you he would be at work, you didn't expect this. Anubis paused for a moment before putting down the spear he was still gripping tightly.

You carefully moved closer to him and removed the mask from his face. However, what you saw under her shocked you. It was still Bayek, but his face even under the mask resembled a jackal. Long pointed snout, long pointed ears. Perhaps only his hair and eyes were the same.

"What are you?" you asked him, though that wasn't the only question burning your tongue. "What's going on here?"

Before answering you, Bayek stroked your cheek gently, looking like he was searching for the right words. He finally took your hand and slowly walked with you into the pyramid. You knew he wouldn't hurt you, so you followed him.

“I am the servant of Anubis,” he said before adding the rest. 

On this day, the worlds of humans and god were connected and he was entrusted to prevent unwanted problems and wanderings between the worlds. He also assured you that your friends would be fine. They will just sleep a little and in the morning they won't remember anything.

Bayek walked you to the door from the back exit. There you promised him that you would come home. You were about to leave when he stopped you. You still had his mask on.

You smiled apologetically. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his muzzle lightly before carefully placing the mask over his face.

“I'll wait for you,” you smiled at him. Bayek hugged you and kissed you on the lips through the mask.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair in his native language before walking back into the museum.

Assassin's Creed Masterlist

[moonlitempty]

“It’s our basic human right to be fuck-ups. This civilisation was founded on fuck-ups!”

And after roughly 3 weeks of waiting, hoping, and constant refreshing of the tracking page, here it is finally, I am able to hold it, and see it, and analyse every intricate little detail of its design, and its packaging. And it makes me feel somewhat fulfilled.

I honestly keep struggling to find the words for this caption, my thoughts are all over the place and it feels like no praise or fawning will suffice, no amount of love dumping will be nearly enough to describe how absolutely lovely this record is.

The World’s End is a film I was afraid I wouldn’t like, even when I was just getting into The Cornetto Trilogy and familiarising myself with everything around it, I could just TELL The World’s End was, not quite a black sheep, but the odd one out in the trilogy. I saw hordes and hordes of people rave over Shaun (rightfully), I saw thousand of dedicated followers of Fuzz (VERY rightfully), but at most I saw a couple hundred people campaigning for End to have more recognition. So when it came to finally watch it for the first time, I was honestly nervous and I vividly remember I had to keep pausing the movie over and over again whenever Gary said or did something dumb, I felt bad for him, he seemed enthusiastic and he longed for his old life with his friends and none of them even trusted him. So that set a very specific lens quite early on that I saw the whole movie throughout, and I think it actually helped me appreciate the movie from the get-go.

So I decided to put my big boy pants on, stop systematically pausing the movie, and sit through it, no more pauses or interruptions.

•“12 Historic Ale Houses!”

I quickly found myself enamoured with End, I loved the unapologetic and almost blatant Sci-Fi route of the film, after all, Sci-Fi in general is a genre I hardly consume, and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that this film alone opened the doors of the genre to my once closed eyes. I grew to love the characters oddly quickly, my stand-outs obviously being Gary and Andy, but I also made room in my heart for Sam and Steven (the only survivors, ha!)

Also, it may have been the Blu-Ray doing its Blu-Ray thing but I thought the film looked PHENOMENAL, easily the most visually interesting film out of the Three, maybe it was also the use of more contemporary cameras and technology, it was an absolute treat to the eyes. The filmmaking and directing choices have been pointed out time and time again, Edgar Wright has the best directing style of any modern filmmaker.

But let’s get to the main subject, the soundtrack!

•The World’s End: Original Movie Score (Mondo Exclusive , Pressed on Crowning Glory Ale Vinyl)

This is a beautiful little record! It’s easily one of the prettiest in my entire collection, usually a splatter vinyl like this is pretty hit or miss, I’ve had my fair share of less than stellar records, but this one NAILED IT! I don’t know if you can tell from the pictures, but this record looks EXACTLY like a nice, cold, foamy and enriching pint of Ale, and the design of the centre labels is oddly satisfying, I lack the right words to describe it, but the entire film carries a sort of “vintage-ish” aesthetic in its graphic design and motifs, hopefully I’m making myself clear with that. It’s a mix of vintage and modern, if I had to describe it!

The record is very nice to the touch, it’s solid and quite heavyweight (which is a reassurance when it comes to vinyl), and it looks absolutely stunning when held up to the light. A detail I love is how the labels seem to slowly uncover the presence of The Network as they go on, by Side D the centre label makes it awfully clear that The Network is, a) a thing, and b) present everywhere in Newton Haven.

In the gimmick/fun little trinkets department, we have a small pamphlet! Styled as a tourist guide for the pubs in Newton, it features a full map of the town (the one Gary used to mark up the pubs), and the commentaries by both Edgar Wright and the composer Steven Price, these are frankly a treat to read and give so much more insight into not only the making of the score, but also the deeper meaning of the score, what Prince intended to transmit with the creative decisions he made while making and building the score, it makes listening to it a much more rewarding experience.

This will be forever one of my favourite items I’ve ever owned, period. Not favourite vinyl records, or movie memorabilia, items in general. And I feel immensely grateful to not only have it and hold it, but to also share it with everyone in a cohesive and engaging way. Writing this post has been an absolute privilege! Hopefully it is mildly decent and not just another one of my soliloquies.

If you got all the way here, you have my eternal gratitude and I love u mwah. here’s a cookie for your troubles 🍪

Let’s Boo-Boo.

[aid-worker-sya]

Secrets of the Quality or the Schedule Release; or, Secrets of the Go Do Random Events; or, Secrets of The Commander's Really Weird Couple Of Months; or, Secrets of Is Peitha Still Hot Or Boring Now (or something like that)

hi i'm not too active in gw2 tumblr (i gotta fix that i just gotta follow more of you on main) but y'know i've been playing gw2 since beta with a few years-long breaks and this is the first time i was playing an expansion on launch so i thought i at least wanted to share my thoughts.

my tl;dr is that there was some good and some bad but i think i'd prefer an entire expansion up front or it in like two updates and then an epilogue like WLB was for Cantha despite my extraordinarily negative feelings feelings on Gyala Delve and that all of this should've been like Part 1 of a new Wizard Saga.

i don't think we'll ever have a very complete consensus, because GW2's fanbase has been historically divided on almost everything since launch. the dragons, Dragon's Watch, BRAHAM, almost everything on this game has been a love-or-hate since that fateful day back in 2012. and from what i've noticed throughout the years, tumblr is usually more positive of GW2's story updates more than other websites, so i'm pretty curious about what went right and also wrong too. so i really wanted to give as a long time player my feelings on all this, bc it was... interesting. both for good and bad.

and perhaps biggest of all: a common criticism countless GW2 players have had since: the idea the Commander is not really the main protagonist because they're always serving as the champion or second-in-command to someone else, something i've historically disagreed even before Traehearne's rewrite but now i'm a bit more "hmm" about. also why the fuck wasn't this like a Wizard Saga of like 2-3 expansions.

it was certainly a mixed bag, i don't agree with people saying it was the worst thing ever, as far as i'm concerned What Lies Beneath was this game's absolute fucking rock bottom in recent memory and SOTO was nowhere near as bad as that and i want to punch something every time any daily or weekly even mentions Gyala Delve (although i'm still going to appreciate WLB as an epilogue and talk about that later). think i'm gonna start with the good immediate thoughts first

i think the initial release was very good. the new maps and metas were fun, as were the maps being larger than most of the previous expansion maps to make up. the new characters were interesting: although there wasn't really enough time to develop them the same way Dragon's Watch had been for years. it was especially great seeing Zojja as a major character which is why i'm so sad she stopped being relevant after the initial release. i think it would've been better if they wanted this expansion to be like... idk, the Wizard Saga to be built up over a period of like three expansions. it would've been nice to see these characters actually build up over a period of time. make Eparch the final confrontation over a period of three years

like, at first, i fully expected this to be like this. they refer to everything before 2023 as the Dragon Saga. i thought this was going to be a shorter saga of like, 2-3 expansions with a much more concrete goal and narrative direction. we fight alongside the Wizards for a few expansions until Eparch's final defeat and then onto the next grand adventure that would take several years to complete

but ultimately, we just kinda accidentally fell into a big adventure bored out of our skulls after our crystal dragon jesus daughter went into hibernation. we stumbled into something, kicked some ass, and now it's over and we're probably getting another expansion in a couple of months. so i guess... that's the future of GW2. after the grand Dragon Saga, the Commander gets into all sorts of weird little shenanigans that determines Tyria's future and then fucks off to do the next thing no more sagas, just these like, weird singular adventures the Commander has.

the end result is that everyone is severely underdeveloped. there are some fun characters, and i've been joking with my gw2 friends "WE FINALLY HAVE AN INTERRACIAL RELATIONSHIP AFTER THEY BAILED ON BRAHAM AND ROX!!!" but like. i liked them. they were cool. i actually really like the Wizards. which is why i'm so bummed it's just over and the epilogue of SOTO it seems set up we're not really gonna do anything for it. i love Frode having a very complicated relationship with the Spirits and how Worm appears to be like... borderline actively malicious compared to most Spirits. i fucking love R'tchikk and Gladium's entire interaction and an unconventional relationship between species and really want to see more interactions. Dagda as one of the last Jotun that truly remember their glory days. so it's so sad to me that like, all these really interesting characters just have their story ended with this. i hope i'm wrong and i see them, but fuck. it's like. i started caring about them, then the next three updates came out and now it's over. dammit.

i also agree the demons are like. they're human society. they're just Regular People no different than Kryta specifically. now i love playing humans in games where you can play multiple races: but like, something that i love about gw2 is how each race has it's own feel, y'know? the humans are a traditional european-style monarchy. the asura are literally an entire race of mad scientists that have a Council so they don't just immediately nuke themselves in a science experiment and their society revolves around research. the charr are an outright stratocracy where the military and government is one and the same and this was explored in IBS where this allowed an insane fascist to rally immense power before IBS went to shit. and the sylvari are literally a new race figuring out WHAT their deal is and haven't quite nailed it down yet

i do not mind at all the kryptis are like not just a hive mind or blue and orange mentality. but i do agree that it is... disappointing that they don't have their own... let's say flavor of society. they're basically just humans but they look weird and live in a weird place. Nayos doesn't appear to be a realm literally made of dreams: it's just the name. the plot of this expansion was mostly like LWS3 but this time we're helping the guerilla rebels instead of fighting them.

idk how to feel about Peitha. it was really fun in the initial release when she was this weird voice in our head we weren't sure if we could trust her or not but she was the enemy of our enemy so she was our friend (for now). but like the demons, she wasn't... complex. she was a very normal stock character for this kind of story. maybe not as heroic or nice as most, but the true good ruler that things will be better if we put on the throne. she' snot bad, but like. she's a dime in a dozen character ultimately. she's the generic good guy we gotta put on the throne and eparch is the generic bad guy we gotta dethrone.

also it was really dicky of them to intentional try to sell the idea of expanded weapon proficiencies and the elite skill weapon unlock for all as like. being part of the base game. you know they worded it like it was part of the base game but you can't do it without SOTO. it's a little bit of a moot point, but it's frustrating.

and i don't know what to ultimately feel now that it's over. because it's over when it feels like it should be beginning. i feel like this episode should have ended with Eparch like... consuming the entirety of Nayos before fleeing deeper into the Mists and the beginning of the journey to find him and defeat him. the kingdom that Peitha wanted to save completely annihilated and the looming concern that much like Kralkatorrik he might become a multiverse destroying threat. i feel like The Midnight King shouldn't have ben the end of the conflict: it should have been the ending of Part 1 of the conflict. like...........

idk. if it was just meant to be this singular adventure: i think i would've liked the entire expansion up front and then an epilogue of WLB to put the final nails on the coffins, and also give time to flesh out everyone else in epilogue stuff and side stories too. but as much as i would've preferred that over this release schedule i feel like. this should have been Part 1. all of this should have been Part 1 of a Saga with this being our first battle against the Midnight King before we after a series of Wizard adventures, tracking him down, and growing stronger finally confront him.

you know there's always been, since GW2's launch, this complaint a lot of people have had with GW2. a lot of people feel like they're never really "the main character" like in GW1. i think at least part of this was rooted in how deeply unpopular Traehearne was in the initial release before they revoiced and rewrote like all of his dialogue. people felt like after the Order Arc that the Commander was kind of relegated to being the support for the actual protagonist. while i feel this opinion has died down since release, i've seen it a lot throughout the years too. a lot of people felt this way when we learned Aurene was basically crystal dragon jesus christ and we were her champion to set the world right. IBS was pretty clear from early on that this conflict would ultimately be resolved by Braham, the norn of prophecy: and it was. the Commander has a tendency to help other people reach their prophesized destinies while they themselves are a person born without particular grand destiny, just someone who was in the right place in the right time and went on to do truly spectacular things (there is a single dialogue in the Hall of Monuments that implies it might be possible the GW1 protagonist was reincarnated as the Commander, but this has never been touched on) and i've... actually come to like it. but this time.

i feel like this time was the only time i've felt it. like. we didn't need to be here. this could have even been Zojja's sidestory. Zojja's big chance to be the hero. we didn't really do that much beyond more of the heavy lifting. we barely did anything substantial beyond hitting things. hell, during the very last battle, we don't even get to speak to Eparch at all. Peitha does 100% of the talking. why was i here? i would've preferred watching like... a netflix cartoon special series about Zojja doing this. why was i here other than the fact i just sorta fell into it??? speaking of which, disappointed Zojja lost all relevance after the initial release. i really wish she was like, fighting by our side the entire time. maybe she doesn't become a Wizard until the very end after doubting it the whole time... like, she's an asura. she's an inventor and innovator. imagine her helping weaken Eparch using a groundbreaking new development in the Wizard's unchanging magic using asuran technology that destroys Eparch's seemingly invincible shield or something and opening the way for the Commander to finish him off.

idk.

i really felt like a side character this time. i didn't see a good reason the Commander is the one saving the day other than awkwardly falling into the plot, and i feel like it could've been resolved by others. and i feel like this could've been resolved by this being just the first part of a grand new adventure, and just like that fateful day over 12 years ago in-universe the Commander was just in the right place at the right time which lead to them saving the world once more. this time... idk. we didn't even get a chance to talk to Eparch. we're just called Wayfinder and Peitha's Champ and do some musclework. hell, we're not even really the Wizard's champion, they basically treat us as a glorified initiate.

idk... it's just. weird, y'know?

i had a lot of fun in the first release, not so much the rest. now i'm thinking of just... what could've been. anyone else feel the same?

(i was gonna go on a larger tangent but i'm tired so "do x events to advance the plot" fuck you fuck you fuck you i HATE this so much)

[maleyanderecafe]

Finding Camellia (Webcomic)

Created by: Jin Soye

Genre: Historical

Maybe it's just because I finished reading a really bad fantasy style story and I'm biased towards crossdressing, but Finding Camellia (or Please Be Patient, Grand Duke) isn't terrible. Granted, there are quite a lot of flaws in it, but it's not a horrible story. The yandere is the male lead, and while I feel like he is a bit light in terms of actual yandere actions, it's enough to at least call him an obsessive male lead.

The story starts out with Camellia being found and taken away from her mother as a young girl. She is the bastard child of the Bale family and was taken in to pretend to be Kieran Bale's younger brother as a punishment for her mother taking away something from her. As such, Camellia is forced to live as Camellius. Soon after meeting Claude, Kieran Bale is brought to a doctor from a far away land to help with his health. As such, Camellius learns her place as the next male heir of the Bale family. After a couple of years, Camellia is determined to find her mother again after completing her deal with Ms. Bale. Claude continues to grow affection towards her, unaware that she is a girl, as well as the prince, Ian, who seems fully aware that she is girl. During this time, Camellia learns that her mother is in a town next door and attempts to sneak there by dressing up as a female, only to be almost caught by Claude. At school, the teachers there as for Camellius's help in catching a criminal that has been killing high class ladies as she's pretty and could pass as a girl (maybe because she is one), and is accompanied by Ian and Claude, who teaches her how to fight with a blade. She is able to help catch the criminal, and her brother as well as Ms. Bale comes back. Ian attempts to wed Camellia, while Claude's father gets assassinated, starting a war between the two sides. The final couple of chapters have Claude finally find out that Camellia is a girl and Camellia gaining a map that shows the whereabouts of her mother.

Starting out, the story itself has actually more stuff going on in terms of building somewhat of a relationship with Camellus and Claude, but I just didn't really mention it in the summary. Callemllus/Camellia as a character is... well, as a character she does have a motive of trying to find her mother, but she lacks a backbone (for lack of a better word) since she does ultimately let people do whatever they want with her. It sort of makes sense as she's basically being blackmailed by the family to pretend to be another heir, but it's not enough for her to be this shy constantly, especially around the male lead. Normally, I do really like crossdressing stories, but for this one, everyone keeps on going on and on about how she looks like a girl. This is a standard trope in crossdressing stories, but it seems to be pointed out by everyone and... feels like it kind of defeats the purpose of crossdressing in the first place. She also does uncrossdress (for the lack of a better word) twice in with little gap in between. The first time is more reasonable since she's going off to find her mom, which of course she would want to look like a girl so that her mother would recognize her, but almost right after she's contacted by the school to (again) uncrossdress to act as bait for people who are killing women. Despite everything, I think she does have some nice characterization for some of the things she does, namely the fact that she feels empathy for those who are poorer than her (in this case the children that are used to lure her into the trap for the murderer), but I wouldn't say she's my favorite protagonist or even that I specifically like her. That might just be a preference thing though.

To be honest, I don't really like either of the male leads, which is not a good sign. Claude is the male lead, so he does have a lot of screen time, but I'm honestly struggling to think of a personality trait for him other than he is a serious looking duke that makes Camellia flustered a lot. Admittedly, he does have more character near the end where his father dies and he becomes forced to become the next Duke at a (relatively) young age, but it seems out of nowhere and used mostly to drive the rivalry between Ivan and him more. As a yandere, he feels a bit on the light side, generally being confused about his feelings about Camellia (as he has the bi panic in why he has a crush on Camellus), getting jealous over her when other guys (mostly Ivan) get close to her and giving threatening looks to people who get in her way, but he hasn't done anything specifically harmful. Ivan does even note that it's not him who is the most obsessed but rather Claude, which does make sense since he keeps on folllowing Camellia around. That being said, it's not very drastic and actually rather light. Ivan, while not a yandere, is very flirty and upfront about his feelings towards Camellia, even continually stating that she is a girl despite her refusal to admit it. He has the air of a playboy type, and is the most interesting male lead compared to Claude, since he does actually plan to marry Camellia (to protect her, in essence) and again has the power to do so since he is the prince. Personally, I like Camellia's brother Kieran the best, because while he is barely there, seems to be a good brother and I like watching him kick out both Ivan and Claude when Camellia wasn't able to.

I would say the best part of this webcomic is the artwork since it is really pretty. The story itself might be kind of wonky, but man, is it pretty.

Overall, it does seem to at least have a light yandere lead, though it's possible that he might get stronger in the future. I guess we'll have to see.