#it forced me to consider how much work ive been putting into this concept and story and how much i care about the message

[darling-gemini]

I was momentarily considering stopping ghost au bc The Insecurities got me but then one of my regular commenters left a comment expressing excitement about reading this and last chapter and now I'm like. Well I can't deprive them of that!

[gu6chan]

Aaaa I'm so happy you wanna hear the ramble! Fellow Caionard minds united,,,, here goes:

Leonard -> Caim "To love you is to sacrifice myself, to become the cage locking you in, to be the leash you pull on. If I can direct all of you into myself, no one else has to get hurt." Plus the belief of being unworthy of receiving any positive emotions, and Caim's love, no matter how twisted it is, is more than he feels he deserves, yet it also serves as a punishment for him for all his crimes (some sorta "you are a cruel but just punishment" thing's going on here)

Caim -> Leonard "You are weak, and pathetic, and naive and loving like a child. Like a naive child, a child I used to be before everything turned for the worst. I hate the reminder of who I could've been, of what I was before I was forced to change. A mirror into a happier alternate me. Weak, foolish, and stupid. And kinder than I have ever been. Kind enough not to push me away, even if it is your way to punish yourself. You would take my hand made of swords? You would embrace my bloody and tainted heart? Though it hurts you, the blood you bleed warms us both. Only for a moment, maybe, but it is warm nonetheless."

OKAY first of all anon i am so sorry its taken me a couple days to reply, for the longest time i had no idea HOW to really even begin because???? when you said ramblings I was EXPECTING peak but like i clearly was NOT fucking prepared for it BECAUSE?????? HOW DID YOU COOK SO HARD??????? literally im going to be thinking about this for the rest of my LIFE i havent stopped thinking about it since you sent it i told my bud about it in private when i first got it i was SO flabbergasted like??? and like even now i still dont really know how to respond in a way that like,,,, really encapsulates just how fucking FERAL this made me to the point i feel a bit bad about responding at a time im exhausted and can't think right kashfgksdhbjfj but hopefully these screenshots of me rambling about it to my friend help encapsulate just how INSANE this made us like

so to break down:

anon, the caionard community (3-4 people including me and you) are obsessed with this and hope you have exactly what you need tomorrow

my buddy says they owe you their life and that they think you're the GOAT (this is true!!!!!!!!!!)

i really don't know what else to say that hasn't already been said other than that this HAS gotten me through work since the day you sent it in and it's getting me through work tomorrow and also definitely the day after that

you DID mention that you never got around to making art for this and im CERTIANLY not the strongest conceptual/metaphorical(??? i dont know how its called) artist, but like.... if you'd be okay with it and i admit i might never get to finishing it myself i would LOVE to do a doodle or so of or based around this concept like im insane im INSANE over this i love it so much........

anon by any chance if you write fanfic or so this alone would go hard as FUCK on AO3 i will be your biggest fan and make t-shirts and little caionard baseball caps with this whole rant on the brim written in your honour, i really wish i could say how much i love this and your writing.................... "the blood you bleed warms us both. only for a moment, maybe, but it is warm nonetheless" i hope you know im like a whole different person reading that i am NEVER going to get over that and have been cycling it around in my brain since the moment you sent that in............. im going to DIE

is there anything else i can say that i can reasonably put into words...... i think to cap off, the idea of leonard feeling undeserving of ANY love, even if it is as "punishment" coming from the hands of someone he is so inherently REPULSED by (I refrain from saying hates, i feel like that's part of it but oversimplifies it too much lmao) is such an interesting concept i haven't considered the psychology of and it INTRIGUES me ive also been spinning that concept around in my head since you mentioned it...... i havent drawn any strong "conclusions' or, again, any coherent lines of thought from that idea, but i am OBSESSED with it and will be sure to yap about it either via a reblog or its own separate post the SECOND i get anywhere further than "woagh.......... cool................................ :0" either way, thank you SO much for sharing this anon, your writing is fucking amazing and i havent been left this shell-shocked in a LONG while, this was so refreshing in a way i cant really describe but you are lifting the whole caionard community on your shoulders, and are ALWAYS welcome in my home <3 thank you so much again for choosing to share this with me, anon, it's an honour QwQ/"

[specialgrades]

OKAY SO UH... IVE HAD THIS IDEA FOR A WHILE BUT IM NOT A WRITER SO-

okay so like bottom male reader, who is dating sukuna, but sukuna has been a bad boyfriend so you and gojo want to mess around with him a bit.. you both restrain him in his sleep and gojo and fucks you while all sukuna can do is sit there and watch.

nonnie ur brain, massive

sukuna x bottom!male reader x gojo

warnings: non-consensual cucking, nipple play, breeding, pet play if you squint

monogamy was not in sukuna’s vocabulary. he had no concept of sharing and yet, had a different woman or man on his arm at any given moment. it was fine for him to whore around, but none of his pets.

he'd consider you one of his favourites- not that he'd ever say it to your face. a small curse user who worked with the jujutsu sorcerers in tokyo. he found you absolutely divine (once again, something he would be caught dead saying out loud). then why in the world did he treat you the way he did?

sukuna put the possess in possessive. you were his, nothing more. he didn’t pamper you or shower you in love. his form of showing his appreciation was fucking you unconsious. lately, that stopped being enough. don’t get it twisted, the dick game was amazing. but was it worth the harshness he treated you with?

gojo, your friend since you started at the school years ago, had just about enough. he cared about you so much, and watching sukuna treat you that way and then hear your whorish moans at night was getting to him. maybe if sukuna got it through his thick skull what a treasure he had under his thumb, he’d treat you better.

it started out with flirting. you always blushed and stuttered whenever someone complimented you, gojo was no exception. he lived for the cute way you’d hide your face when he complimented you on the smallest things.

he started hanging out with you more, alone. sukuna barely noticing you’re gone for a while there. it wasn’t until gojo literally shoved it in his face how happy he made you. the worst part was sukuna knew he couldn’t do shit about it, in his current state he lacked the power needed to wipe gojo satoru off the face of this earth. he couldn’t kill you either, that’d hurt him in more ways than he’d like to admit. what was he going to do, order you to stop working at the one place that guaranteed he’d see you every day?

sukuna responded to this by making it even more obvious you were his cocksleeve. your limp and bruises didn’t go unnoticed. not at all the reaction gojo was looking for.

finally, he stepped it up. a romantic (if you could call it that) walk around the campus and doing a bit more than just friends do before stumbling into his room. it was perfect, and he got to indulge. your moans as he forced his tongue in your mouth made his pants significantly tighter than they were before. you didn’t even notice the quiet man in the corner of the room when gojo tossed you on the bed.

“you're all flushed, (Y/N).” he stated, grazing his lips over your red cheeks. “yeah i-i wonder why.” you stuttered, gripping his button down as his lips trailed to your neck.

sukuna never treated you with this much love and care. it was a breath of fresh air, and you were getting high off of it.

sukuna watched you arch into gojo when he bit your neck, his hand pushing your shirt up- no. that's sukuna’s shirt. if it weren't for the gag he'd scream at the two of you, only garbled sounds muffled by your pants and soft moans as gojo practically worshipped your body. not a single place didn't feel his lips or his fingers.

you were hot. suddenly the clothes you we're wearing were too much. gojo sensed this and helped you tug off your shirt. he waited on the pants until his mouth got down to tug the zipper with his teeth. the lewd display made you ache for him, for gojo.

“what's got you so worked up, puppy?” you whimpered, bucking against gojos newfound hold on your hips. “please, toru i- ah~ need…” your words became more breathy as the sorcerer mouthed over your cock. he had removed the blindfold in exchange to look up at you through his white lashes. “you want more, puppy? you gotta ask nicely.” you started begging him please, please touch your body. he complied with a smirk, tugging down your underwear (a pale baby blue lace sukuna picked out for you). his lips met your tip as his fingers prodded at your hole.

he wasn't surprised at the lack of resistance, he was shocked by how tight you still were despite it. you sucked in his fingers for all their worth.

it didn't take you long to cum for the first time. sukuna watched in anger, hoping you'd notice the cursed energy in the room and glace at your lover. he watched you jump at the chance to shove another cock down your throat. gojo told you to get it nice and wet, completely underestimating your need to have any hole stuffed.

you so easily took all of him, a surprise to the white haired man. you still gagged with his tip poking your throat, and by god did it feel amazing.

he pulled you off before he could cum, determined to make sure that the next time sukuna prepped you (if he did) he'd taste gojo’s cum.

like his fingers, you sucked him in the minute he pushed in. your moans were pornographic, bouncing off the walls.

“tell me whats making you feel so good, baby.” gojo urged. you muttered something until he stilled.

“words.”

you started word vomiting. how daddy filled you up so well (a nickname that was new to gojo), how thankful you were that he gave you his cock and begging him to fill you up with his cum.

“you make me feel so good daddy~! please, mmm~ please breed me daddy, gimmie your cum!”

finally sukuna had enough. only he was allowed to fuck you full of cum. his name carved into your thigh said that, right?

his garbled noises got louder, now no longer drowned out by your screams and moans. you were so fucked out by now- gojo had gotten you to cum three times by now- you barely even noticed. until gojo leaned down and told you.

“look baby, we've got an audience.” he guided your gaze to the dark corner where sukuna was tied up in a similar fashion as his fingers were. he was growling and cursing through the gag, threatening gojo.

you whimpered, realizing what was happening. you were gonna say something before gojo started teasing your nipples (again); something sukuna tended to forget about. you cried out as you came again, whimpering more when you felt gojo finally cum and fill you up.

you passed out right after. gojo cleaned up and smirked at sukuna.

“maybe now you'll think twice about mistreating a gift like him.”

[lowaltitude]

Assertive (2) | Billy Hargrove

Passive, as told from Billy’s POV.

- Stranger Things

- Passive. Reader’s POV

- x Reader (Y/N)

- Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

❪ FEM! ❫ 

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 original prompt: ‘ “don’t you know who i am?” “yup. i just don’t care” ’ 

𖥻 no connection to Stranger Things series timeline.  3.6k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

A week. It had been a week of dealing with Y/N. She was stubborn, I’d go as far as to say she was impossible some days. I’d managed to get her to let me drive her to and from school a few times, mostly by keeping her a little after class so she would miss the bus, but she would spend the whole ride talking to Max.

Max and Y/N had become insufferably close, so close that Max and Y/N were happily immersed in their conversation and didn’t even notice me waiting so that Y/N and I could go to class together.

I hated how she didn’t pay much attention to me, I was always shut down. She didn't even look at me when I sighed in defeat and walked into the school without her. At least there was the positive that talking to Max meant she was talking, instead of side eying me and waiting for our time together to come to an end.

“Billy!” Tommy shouted as I walked into the classroom, I nodded at him and went to my seat. Tommy pushed off the desk he was leaned against, coming over and talking the empty seat beside me.

Y/N’s seat.

“What have you been doing?” Tommy smiled “Or, who have you been doing?”

I rolled my eyes at his idiotic attempts at conversation, usually it wouldn’t bother me to talk about sex but since I’d been hanging out Y/N, I hadn’t been fooling around.

“Just living” I shrugged.

“Dude, come on. Ive seen you running around with that girl”

“There’s nothing to tell. Y/N is my… friend” It felt odd calling a girl, anyone at all, my friend. But I wanted Tommy to stop bothering me, I’d realised that something Y/N disliked was my temper so I was trying to stay calm.

“You’re friends with a girl?” Tommy scoffed, and I admit I knew it was a wild concept.

Looking at the doorway, I watch as Y/N walks in. The wind had made her hair a little messy, and I couldn’t help the deep feeling of longing. Her eyes land on me and I felt like someone was punching me in the stomach again, I wanted to stroke a hand through her hair in a lazy attempt to tame it as a poorly executed excuse just to touch her.

“Move” I said brashly.

Tommy chuckled awkwardly, forcing our laughter as he looked at me in confusion. “What?”

“You’re in her seat”

Y/N purses her lips as she reaches the table, tightening her grip on her books “Sorry” She sighs. Rocking back and fourth on her heels. She had a bad habit of apologising for things she wasn’t at fault for i’d noticed.

Tommy looks at me one last time before hurrying away, taking his place at his normal table. I look to Y/N as she moves beside me, silently taking her seat.

“Hey” I tuck my lip between my teeth to stop myself from smiling like an idiot at her.

She rolls her eyes and puts her notebook on the table “I saw you less than 3 minutes ago”

I watch as she clicks her pen and starts mindlessly drawing spirals on the lines page, a bored expression already playing on her face. Pay attention to me!

“You have to say ‘hey’ back, it’s considered rude to not reply”

Her eyes immediately met mine, and it was like I could hear the blood pumping through my body. She had her eyebrows furrowed, fist clenching the pen tightly, and just as she opened her mouth to say something the teacher came in and she looked away from me in defeat. What was she planning to say? It’s likely she was going to just tell me off for being an asshole, but maybe I had done it already and she was hopelessly devoted to me.

She probably wanted to spend hours just talking, listening to music and enjoying each other’s company. Unwind after a long day or fall asleep in each others arms.

Show me all her favourite books, works of art, and movies that she loves. She’d beg and beg for me to take her back to California so she could see where I grew up, and i’d get to show her how much I used to love surfing.

“Stop looking at me” Y/N frowned. I raised an eyebrow slowly, resting it on the table and waiting for her to give in. She sighed, as if accepting it and allowing a smile to slowly break out of my face “Hey”

Picking up one of her pens, I began twirling it in my hand like a drumstick and looking at what was writhing on the whiteboard at the front of the class. I didn’t really known what we were doing, Y/N always did the work and I wanted to help her but I also enjoyed watching her focus.

Dropping the pen on the desk, already bored of it, I turned my chair to look at her completely. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because”

Waiting, I watched her roll her eyes and I knew she was contemplating if she wanted to make a snide comment or be nice to me. “Same as you, I guess”

“You guess?”

“Music, Billy, I like music.” She waved a hand at me, as if she was shooing me away from her “Don’t bug me about if i prefer… Mötley Crüe to Duran Duran”

I knew for a fact she liked Motley. I’d not only seen her quietly singing along in the car, but i’d also gone passed her window— and by passed I mean, I had started walking to knock on her door but something stopped me and I ended up just slowly backing away until I heard music and noticed her jumping around.

“But you do prefer Motley right? I heard you listening to them the other day” I nod and she once again furrows her eyebrows. Every time she did that I wanted to put my finger between her brows again, I liked the way she went blank for a few seconds when I did that. “You should really close your curtains if you’re going to dance in your bedroom without wanting me to see it”

“Don’t look in my bedroom window, it’s that easy. Freak”

Freak? Me? I let out a low laugh before leaning as close to her as I could, keeping enough distance so that I wouldn’t do anything crazy. “Yeah. Maybe I am a freak, but I think you’d like it”

Her jaw dropped, I studied her face and I could see the cogs turning in her head again. Every thought she thank seemed to be obvious to me somehow. That I was twisting her words. That she kind of liked it.

Before she could say anything, the teacher interrupted. “Billy, Y/N. This is not your lunch break, back to work”

I snatched a piece of paper from Y/N and twisted my seat so I could look like I was hard at work. As soon as she looked away from us I slouched and stopped pretending to write. Drawing random shapes on the page, and sighing aloud to myself. I could see Y/N’s arm in my peripheral vision, and I carefully moved my arm to brush against hers, the slight contact sending a chill up my spine. She didn’t move away and maybe I liked that.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I tried to catch up with Y/N after class but she was too fast, and I couldn’t manage to squeeze past the crowd of mostly girls that were gathering around me. Word had spread about celibacy and they all wanted to be the one to bring me back to my usual ways.

“Sorry, I really have to go” I forced a fake smile, peeling one of the girls off my arm. She was gripping me like she was a toddler and I was her favourite toy.

I ignored the pleas and whines, no matter how nice it felt to hear those girls screaming my name I had something else on my mind.

Y/N was opening up, she was welcoming the though that I wasn’t as bad as she believed, I just knew it.

Racing to to my car I tapped my foot impatiently as I leaned against the hood and waited for Max.

“Where’s Y/N, I wanted to tell her something” Max frowned, taking her backpack off.

“Caught the bus, let’s go already”

“What did you do?” Max glared at me as we climbed in.

“Nothing” I spoke through gritted teeth “She just didn’t want a ride today.”

Max muttered something but I was too focused on getting back to our house quickly to care if she was insulting me. We had to be back before she was.

I slammed the car door behind me as I got out, adjusting my jacket collar and leaning against the car with my eyes on the street. The bus pulled up a minute later, and I watched as the doors opened, allowing Y/N to step off.

It kind of shocked and amazed me that no one else was running in circles for her, she was the best this town had to offer and I was the only one to notice. That’s good thought, it means I don’t have competition yet.

She fixes the straps of her bag and I excitedly jog down my driveway, trying to act casual and tucking my hands in my pockets as I pass her mailbox.

People on the bus looked out the window and Y/n looked back at them awkwardly. “Yes?”

I let a smirk break out on my face “Got you so worked up you couldn’t spend another minute with me without throwing yourself at me today, didn’t i?”

Why else would she run away after I was a gentleman. Well, as gentlemanly as I could be.

She scoffed an unimpressed look on her face as she stared at me. “Oh of course, i’ve had nothing but you on my mind all day”

“Really?” I tried not to sound to hopeful or excited but I couldn’t help it, I was practically bouncing on my feet.

She groaned “No!” and it felt like a different kind of punch to the gut than I had felt this past week, the others were a ‘good’ punch. Relieving, warming. but this one was like a real punch, it stung.

Y/N turned away, beginning to walk up her driveway towards the house and I recomposed my slightly bruised ego and went after her. She opened the front door and turned to look at me again, pointing her finger at me, only a few inches away, if I ook one step forward we’d be touching.

“Down boy. Sit. Stay.”

I exhaled sharply out my nose. She was treating me like an animal, and I was one, but I was certainly not her pet. “If you’re going to treat me like a dog you could at least call me a good boy”

“You have to be good for that”

“Do I get in trouble if i’m bad?” Leaning my arm on the doorframe, she stared at me for a few seconds and I felt like my mouth had been stuffed with cotton. I had nothing else to say but I wanted to speak again.

After what felt like a month staring at her face she closed the door in my face and I gawked. Only girls fathers had ever done that to me.

I walked across the lawn, stopping on the grass and looking up at the window I knew was to Y/N’s bedroom. I wondered what it looked like inside, you couldn’t see much from down here other than if the light was on or not.

She appeared by the window, tying her hair up with the adorable aggravated look on her face and I smiled, watching her turn to look out the window. Was she going to check if I was out by my car? Did she miss my presence?

Her eyes landed on me and I swallowed hard before lifting my hand to wave at her. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, aggressively pulling her curtains shut and making me laugh.

I sighed, almost laughing to myself in amusement “She’s so cute”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Waking up on Saturday morning, I was practically up with the sunrise. All my thoughts were about how I couldn’t wait to see Y/N on Monday.

After staring at the ceiling for maybe an hour, I heard the door open and close. Getting up, I peeked out my window and watched my father’s car pull out of the driveway.

Stretching, I went out to the living room. Turning on the television and finding a channel that was just playing music videos. It was only 7 in the morning and I was already lifting weights, this was usually an after school activity to let out any pent up frustrations.

I knew what was getting me so worked up, and she probably wasn’t thinking about me this much. That was truly devastating.

“What are you doing?” Max asked quietly, rubbing her eyes. I glanced over at the clock and saw that it had been a few hours, not minutes like I had thought. My mind wandering had started to become a real issues for me, I lost all sense of time passing when I was focused on girls. Not girls plural, really, just one girl.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I sigh “Whats it look like?”

Max filled herself a glass of water and drank it slowly as I packed my weights away before going to take a shower.

I faced the water, just standing in the shower and thinking. I needed to wash my car but a better user of my time would be ‘studying’ at Y/N’s house, I already knew where she lived and maybe if her family opened the door she’d realise I was amazing when I charmed them. I put my hands in my hair, scrubbing my shampoo and trying to get out as fast as possible.

My hair wasn’t doing what I wanted as I died it, and my clothes felt like they were sitting wrong on my body. It was like the world was against me today and I don’t know why. Not even my cologne seemed to smell the same.

Giving up, I groaned and harshly ran my hand though my hair in one last attempt to make it presentable before exiting my bedroom.

Walking right out the door, I mentally practiced what i’d say. Did she live with her dad? Mum? Both?

Hello Sir/Ma’am, is Y/N here? I was hoping we’d be able to study together for our biology class. Pause for response. I’m Billy, by the way, lovely to meet you.

Is that how people talked, or did that make me sound like I was here to murder her? My usual interactions with others parental figures was the awkward passing when they knew that I was about to have, or just had, sex with their daughter.

I stopped as I got to her front door, taking a deep breath and trying to understand why I was suddenly sweating. Rapping my knuckles on the door, I waited and looked around the street as I heard footsteps approaching.

The door opened and I brought my attention to the girl standing in front of me. Hair unbrushed, toast between her teeth and wearing her pyjamas. The shirt was a little short, revealing her midriff and I tried to not make her think I was looking at her boobs. Looking back at her face, I felt like sighing out loud.

Dark circles under her eyes, cheeks puffy and lips dry. I felt my heartbeat in my ears, every part of my being was telling me to touch her- Kiss her. Even like this she was the prettiest girl i’d seen in a long time and I smirked at the sight of how wide her eyes had gone.

“Good morning” I finally spoke, it felt like I was out of breath just trying to say those 2 words to her.

Reaching forward, I stopped myself from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and instead grabbed the toast. I took it right from her out of her mouth and took a bite, smiling as she stood and chewed, confused at my actions.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. Somehow I had expected her to be nicer to me on the weekend, as if she’d realise how much she missed me annoying her.

“Is it so strange that I want to spend time with you, gorgeous?” I hadn’t meant to say that aloud but it felt reliving somehow, to tell her how she looked so effortlessly gorgeous.

She crossed her arms across her stomach, hiding her exposed midriff. I hadn’t figured her to be one of those girls that doesn’t like their body, I think it was perfect so why did she hide herself. “Yes, actually”

Taking another bite of toast, I moved off the doorframe I had He took another bite of the toast, pushing off the doorframe I was leaned against and going into her house. “You just wake up?”

There were pictures on their walls, pictures of Y/N growing up peaked my interest. She had the same most adorable smile, less intoxicating when she was young but just as perfect. “You were cute” I smile, thinking of a way to get her to talk to me again “What happened?”

“You can’t just want into my home and tell me I got uglier” She whined, making me shrug and start walking to her lounge room.

“Never said that. Said you were cute, called you gorgeous not even a minute ago. You got hearing issues or something?” I grinned, knowing she couldn’t see the goofy look on my face as I had my back to her.

There was a blanket on the floor, and I put the last bite of toast in my mouth before picking it off the floor. I draped it over the couch before sitting and looking at her television. She hadn’t said anything, there were so many long silences that I now wanted filled, I just wanted to hear her voice.

“Are you going to close the door?” I asked, looking at her. She seemed to snap back to reality and quickly moved to shut the front door before coming to stand in front of the tv. Hands on her hips and glaring at me.

“I’m trying to enjoy my day”

I grinned “You’ll enjoy it more with me” Patting the seat beside me, I hoped she’d take it. “I know it, Y/N”

“You don’t even know me”

I guess not, but I knew that for some reason I liked being around her. I didn’t want to have some one night stand with her where i’d ignore her in the halls, I liked hearing her poor attempts at insults and watching as she worked. “So? I’m trying to”

She stood there, staring at me with a blank expression. A minute passed and I kept waiting, I didn’t mind just admiring her but I was being scared that she was about to combust. Titling my head to the side, I tried to think what could possibly be going on in her head.

“Fine” She says suddenly, pretending to be angry at me and making me smile. Y/N moves, sitting a few inches away from me. “Do you want to just watch a movie?”

She didn’t kick me out! “Let’s play spin the bottle”

Y/N rolls her eyes and purses her lips, I look at her lips and lick my our before meeting her eyes again. Watching her shake her head “There’s only two of us”

“So you’re saying it would be easier if we just made out?” I raised my eyebrow, I was enjoying my time with her a little too much but I couldn’t help it. I put my hand on the back of the couch, like you’d see in a movie when the guy fake yawns just to touch the girl.

“No, i’m saying i’m not playing your games”

I looked at her, giving her a once over quickly before noticing her tightly she was balling her fists now.

“But I know you want to kiss me. I can tell”

“Sure you can” She snarks “How exactly can you 'tell’?”

I slowly begin to lean closer to her, locking eyes with her “It’s in your eyes. Your breathing pattern changes when i get close enough.” I was so close to her face I could feel her breath, and I watched as her eyes darted around the room trying not to meet my gaze. “And I don’t think you noticed, but you’re balling your fists pretty tight”

She took a sharp breath, looking down and carefully releasing her fists. Y/N looked back up at me, this time meeting my eyes and making me feel frozen.

She scoffed, leaning back on the couch. “That’s because i’m annoyed you’re getting in my personal space”

“Okay, and if I do this you’re still annoyed?” I let my heart take over, putting a piece of her hair behind her ear. I let my hand linger near her face, my finger ever so slightly touching her skin as I pulled it back to me.

“Yes”

I knew she was lying, and that made me happy…? Am I meant to like hearing women lie to me about their feelings?

“Uh huh” I nod, sitting back like nothing happened. Hoping she couldn’t hear my heartbeat from how incredibly loud it was being right now. “Got anything else to eat?”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

to be continued… !

tags: @im-julessssss @m-rae23 @moonie-brbs @iamaslutforcoffee @kenny-power @billy-hargroves-wife @maackiimoo @reneetje @tayhar811 @harringtonfan4 @jiiisungpark @untoldshortsofthefandoms @theamunson @softbfbilly @goodiefishhh + i can’t reply to comments sorry

[probably-haven]

Hello!! After seeing what you wrote about xiaoven fics I went to see what things you usually write and omg, your archon Venti headcanons????? I am absolutely in love. So if it isn't annoying, could you talk about xiaoven or Venti or Xiao or whatever ship or character you like? I don't care what you are going to say, I just want to know more about your thoughts ^^

I- is this... bestie, this is essentially a free ramble pass- kerujsgheskdfug. Trust me when I say that in no way is this, and in no way will it ever be annoying in the slightest- i literally- lets just say rambling off thoughts is kind of my specialty, especially when provided a topic to branch off of because otherwise I'm just- really indecisive about it so- iujskdh yeah- 100% definitely down to talk about Venti, Xiao, and/or Xiaoven XD. Also, yes- it may have been awhile since i last posted one(cuz again, indecisive about which direction to take part 5), but the Archon War Era Venti headcanons are still without a doubt my favorite posts I've made. It's just such an interesting topic with such endless potential that so few people actually think about or consider or even realize is there, so i always just get really psyched whenever i see someone interact with them lol.

.... this ended up being a bit of a mess: warning in advance

Anyway! onto the actual content!

- You see the thing about Xiaoven is that there's a lot of different ways that it could end up working out, and just personally my favorite way of portraying Xiaoven in my mind is as an unlabeled relationship because if anyone in genshin would give off that vibe its these two. And a number of other reasons.

- Firstly, I heavily headcanon Venti as being an aroace polyplatonic or perhaps heavily demiromantic. However, regardless of this I just don't think that Venti is really the kind of person to worry about how he should label his feelings, thinking it's silly to try to put them in one box or the other, especially with feelings and emotions being as fluid as they are in general. Plus it fits his whole God of Freedom vibe. I just- dont think he's the biggest fan of labels or social categorization in general.

- And secondly on the hand of Xiao... his defense mechanisms are very much ingrained in his personality. It's probably hard enough for him to not go into fight or flight(the answer is fight) at the slightest affection at first, at the slightest feeling of vulnerability. Even further down the line, with his fierce dedication to Liyue, I cant help but get the vibe that the moment he recognized that he was falling for Venti he would begin avoiding him, not only to avoid distraction from his duty, but to avoid corrupting him or losing him in general like he has with like basically every other person he gets close with(even believing that the cycle had repeated once more when he first heard of Morax's death)... now imagine Venti tryna slap a label on their relationship and tell me Xiao would have a positive reaction.

- The thing with Xiaoven.... honestly, i feel like theres more ways that it can go wrong than it can go right, but if they do manage to make their relationship work out, it's just simply beautiful in all terms of the word.

- Lets talk about killing. - During the Archon War, both were forced to kill a large number of people and gods alike- Venti out of a need to remain alive to protect Mondstadt, it's freedom, and the nameless bard's legacy by extent- and Xiao out of servitude to the god that was once his master

..... actually- break here- ive talked a lot about Venti on this blog but I havent actually spoken about Xiao all that much- so i should probably do that a bit first... do note though that my characterization of Xiao is pretty flexible actually- this is just- the possible characterization of him that i tend to favor as being the most- uh- "realistically complex"

-

Theres a line I saw this one time in a certain story: "He is a trained weapon. That's what he is, was, and always will be. You cannot change that so stop trying." And i just- think its a really interesting concept- that applies pretty well to Xiao now that i actually think about it. - the concept behind it is this: After spending more than a vast majority of his life killing or otherwise in battle, it's become a part of who he is, a normalcy that after centuries and centuries would be near impossible to get rid of or reverse, and even if it was possible, with his karmic debt constantly eating away at him its unlikely he has enough time left for that to happen. - it sounds like a cruel thing to say about him- but in context it's actually pretty layered and i think about it a lot. It's not as much a "he's a killer lol, that his whole personality" its more of a "The centuries of trauma he experienced have conditioned him into a constantly alert and battle ready mindset while also shaping his dehumanizing inferior-in-worth-but-superior-in-capability view of himself that would have likely been necessary to get through those time, and at this point he's been under that conditioning for long enough that it's essentially ingrained itself in his personality."

- the main idea is- it's a part of who he is, that needs to be accepted as who he is because its not something that he can just up and change. It's not all he is of course but his constant battle mode, as though always waiting to be ambushed or to be granted a new target to eradicate.

a couple character story quotes:

-"His past of service under the evil god had rid Xiao of his innocence and gentleness. All that remained within him was the means to kill and the weight of his sins. The only way he could be of service to mortals was in combat." -"Xiao does not feel any hatred. Having lived for over two thousand years, no single karmic debt constitutes anything more than a fleeting memory. No grudge can last a thousand years; nor is any debt so great that it cannot be paid off in this time. Xiao has spent many long years alone. But his battles have never been in vain." -"where did Xiao have to return to? He was merely leaving the battlefield." -"since Xiao wages a constant war against dark forces powerful enough to devour Liyue in its entirety, any bystanders who witness him in the heat of battle are likely to end up as collateral damage." -"The war he fights can never be won, and will never come to an end." -"Because ultimately, the one with whom Xiao wrestles is himself."

i feel like at some point this very nearly did consume his whole personality, almost turning him into nothing more than a being of slaughter under Morax's control, devoid of any "humanity" at all, consumed and corrupted by his karmic debt like his fellow yakshas before him. - until he experienced a moment of clarity- a song in the wind, the peaceful melody of a dihua flute. - and pulled back from the border of something he wouldnt have been able to return from, there a was a shift in his mind- a concept grown unfamiliar enough with time that it took him a great time to identify what it was; a curiosity. Something that there was no place for on the battlefield, something that by all means should have been completely useless to Xiao, and yet he held onto that curiosity, slowly regaining over time, a sense of who he was and who he could choose to be with each song that the wind chose to carry towards him every once in a blue moon.

and eventually that curiousity turned to longing. Longing "for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers"

...... uh- heh- if you couldn’t tell already i have a tendency to make my characterizations/analyses of characters more serious that i probably should. 

to summarize: Xiao is constantly toeing the line between his ingrained nature and his humanity- almost as though still trying to decide how much of that humanity he deserves to have, how much he is allowed to have, and how much is safe to have.

^looking back after writing this, i think the best way to explain it is that this is the view that i keep in mind/the lense that i tend to most enjoy looking through and refering back to while examining and/or analyzing his character, actions, story, lines, and overall personality.

idk- i kinda got off track but i just think its a really interesting interpretation to think about because it has some really interesting implications ig- it’s not the full extent of how i view him of course, but i kinda got ahead of myself and its long enough as is so ill just elaborate as i go- Lol i actually have in progress playlists for both him and venti and just- vibes- i could ramble about the playlists alone for hours explaining everything... It’s probably a problem- uh- ill keep going now lol.

anyways! stepping off the angst path for a brief break! Brought to you by their lines in the snow: both waiting for it to get thick enough, Venti for the purpose of a snowball fight and Xiao for the purpose of a tasty and nutritious breakfast.

but its actually something of note that Xiao doesnt actually need to eat so anything he does eat is usually out of obligation or enjoyment- so like.... snow.... like i dont blame him, but of all things- an adeptus who refuses to eat basically anything but almond tofu looks at the freezing-cold-floor-water that yeeted itself from above and decided at some point- damn- that seems more edible than basically ever single actually edible thing ever.... im gonna eat it- like- im glad if eating snow makes him happy but- at the same time...

He probably convinces Venti to eat snow too though and Venti wouldnt even resist I mean he’s wind and has probably consumed worse things in his time so- 2 anemo cryptids with glowing tattoos sitting in Dragonspine monching snow in the dead of night is an amusing thought to me.

- kay, now back to more serious-toned thoughts

One of the things about the ship that i really like is the different contradicting parallels between them:

A lot of how i view Xiao’s character is someone formed largely by the things he cant control and who was forced to accept that accepted that and learned to thrive in it as much as he can.  Venti on the other hand is surrounded by things he cant control and is ever adapting to control as much as he can while embracing whatever he cant as being part of the unpredictability of the world, seeing beauty in it. 

both of them have lost people and do what they do to honor their memory: Xiao continues to do what the Yakshas once did And Venti chooses to do what his friend couldn’t

Xiao’s power coming from himself  and Venti’s from others And both seem to appear to use their power for their own gain while truly helping others behind the scenes

both have killed a lot of people during the archon war Xiao views it as another necessary event out of his control and Venti would likely view it as a tragedy he chose to enact himself

and this is where we meet out balance

Xiao- contrary to how i think a lot of people view him as thinking of himself as a monster- seems canonically to have accepted this as part of his duty, as long as those he killed are not mortals. I dont think he enjoys it no- but someone has to do it and he’s just accepted that its a part of his duty Venti on the other hand-

See the beauty of the ship- as someone with an angst-centric mind- is this- these are two of the most traumatized mfers in the game 

Xiao is by far the one who needs the most help and who can serve to benefit most from the ship- but he is nowhere near self aware enough to recognize that there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about his mindset in the slightest-

whereas you have the contrast with Venti who sorted through most of his trauma with the nameless bard alone during the archon war and while the result appears more healthy- is still really not- but he’s not self aware of that either because i mean- who’s going to tell him? nobody even knows. 

however- venti is aware enough to notice flaws in Xiao’s mindset and “Venti” enough to want to help them through it-

Xiao- while not aware enough to recognize the flaws in Venti’s mindset, can recognize where it contrasts with his own, and is blunt enough to point it out- and then it’s out there to be mulled over- 

they’re so similar and yet so different and a feel just conversing between the two of them, being in each others precense, just being exposed to two mindsets that are so very different could do both of them a whole lot of good.

GEEE THAT BIT OF RAMBLING HAD LITTLE TO NO DIRECTION AT ALL- LET ME-- LET ME MAKE THIS START MAKING SENSE- WITH... DYNAMICS OR SOMETHING

I don’t think Xiao needs to sleep really- and i dont think that sleeping would do anything except make him uneasy at first- he’d probably just get nightmares after all he’s been through- but with Venti he would soon learn that it doesn’t have to be that way, lulled into the first peaceful sleep he’s had in... as long as he can remember.

anywho back to not making sense cuz im fickle and i think most questions about ships are best displayed through character interactions so like- a possible exchange thats cliche but cliches exist for a reason

Xiao: Why do you try so hard to help me, it isn’t easy. I know that much Venti, with the most adoring expression: Because you’re worth it, obviously Xiao: But surely there are others more deserving of- Venti: No Xiao, everyone is just as deserving as the next person, you included Xiao: Then why me above others? Venti: ehe, cuz ur my warrior of course [O//////O oh shit, hes right] Xiao: My contract is with Morax alone [gay panic but in broody yaksha]

it’s kinda difficult cuz neither of them really address their feelings.  I mean Venti does but he does it very indirectly and its rare that he ever does it with like- genuine directness- even spilling his backstory was in the form of a song- and told in the third person- so a lot of their interactions would often have some deeper meaning, especially with Venti being the bard he is. 

I come up with a lot of- errant thoughts about Xiaoven- but this is making me realize that a true analysis of their ship is rather difficult because it just encompasses so many dynamics so its hard to settle on just one and not go rambling about who knows what bouncing from one end of the ship to the other-  Because you truly can and thats the beauty of it

within one moment you can be having a heartfelt conversation about the archon war the impact of lost friends and times past, and the next moment Venti is trying to forcefeed Xiao an apple while Xiao screams about disrespecting the adepti and its just- so lovely

so while they have picnics with nothing but apples, dandelion wine, and almond tofu they can sit down and talk about the dreams Xiao once devoured, and the dandelion wine and apple cider that the first Ragnvindir invented from the plants that never could have grown in Old Mond. The foods that tasted of familiarity, or of the grilled ticker fish Pervases always used to eat, foods that tasted of friends and frankly family that had since passed, glaze lilies and cecilias and qingxin flowers scattered in the surroundings and woven into Xiao’s neat braids and Venti’s now messy ones, rebraided by the steady and inexperienced hands of one unused to gentle action. 

and then of course Venti steals Xiao’s tofu once the mood becomes too grim and replaces it with a bottle of wine that Xiao refers to as “vile poison,” a remark that fatally wounds Venti as he collapses on the floor, proclaiming how he can only be healed by a Yaksha’s kiss. Xiao ignores this of course and simply takes back his tofu with a slight smile on his face, but as Venti persists he soundlessly places a kiss on his own palm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back up from where he was dramatically sprawled on the floor, grumbling about how such action was “unbecoming of an archon.” A sign of affection only Xiao would ever know about. But Venti is literally wind and I hc his senses work differently anyways so he definitely knows- plus Xiao’s face is red as the blood of his enemies and the way he is pointedly not looking at Venti at all really speaks volumes anyways. 

 -Venti playing epic battle music whenever Xiao goes into fights in what looks like a ridiculously extra performance to anyone else but is actually doing wonders to keep Xiao’s karma at bay

-Venti preaches the practice of “kissing wounds better” and Xiao is unfamiliar with this medical treatment but views it as unnecessary regardless because adepti have accelerated healing, doesn’t mean he’s going to stop him though. 

-Messages whispered on the wind

-Venti’s 1000 year sleep- an accident, not a fun time for the yaksha, and not a fun time for Venti once he woke up. Venti is actually more afraid of restful sleep than Xiao is, hence the sleeping in trees thing, but when Xiao is there, he can sleep restfully with faith that Xiao wont let another millennia slip through his fingertips. 

- Xiao tends to make excuses when doing things that aren’t necessary to his duty, like in his birthday voice line “Have this, it’s a butterfly i made from leaves... Okay. Take it. It’s an adepti amulet -- it staves off evil” because at the current point in his progress it helps him to feel like he’s allowed to do these things. Not wanting to put him off from progress, Venti never comments on his excuse but never fails to whisper a quick reminder of how proud he is of how far Xiao had come.

- Xiao’s karma saddens Venti greatly- not only because of how it effects Xiao but also because its a reminder that as much as Venti tries to honor the memory of those he’s killed, there will always be those who resent him for it, and when he took the option of living away from them, he truly can’t blame them. - And when he gets too wrapped up in thoughts, whether around this topic or similar ones or otherwise, eventually, he’ll hear the sound of a flute on the wind. It’s not divine by any means, but as his own wind connects him to the source, he gets the sentiment all the same. “What impact does one individual’s remaining wrath have on the present. You have done much to help the living in the present” the unspoken idea that Xiao has included himself in that statement, because now, with Venti’s help he’s beginning to learn just how to experience living for himself. 

- Venti’s form and Xiao’s mask are off limit topics though because if either mentions it the other will counter with the opposite and the mood will turn immediately bitter at the idea that both know that what they’re doing is destructive but neither are willing to change

- Venti who has different tells for negative feelings than most people because as much as he likes to pretend it is- this form isnt his, and Xiao who is able to identify those

- many fanfics and headcanons have Venti recognizing when Xiao is uncomfortable and getting him out of those situations. I see that and I love it but i raise you: - Venti taking Xiao to Mondstadt, careful that he doesn’t get to the point that he’s uncomfortable. And nothing goes wrong exactly, but Xiao notices the the way Venti’s cape is blowing in the wind, the way he’s holding his weight, barely on his feet so much as floating on the wind, connected with the ground only for the sake of appearance, all the while he looks just as happy go lucky as ever. And without a word, he grabs his hand and teleports them both out of Mondstadt.  - turns out it was just a slight thing that reminded him of the archon war (cuz i will die on the hill of him having more tragic backstory than just Decarabian), and he of course gives a sincere if not flustered thanks to Xiao, because he’s really not used to people noticing. 

- Venti trying to vent sneakily through fictional stories and Xiao is just like “Didn’t that basically happen to you” and Venti is just like “<_< shit”

- Venti once said affectionally that he wished he had met Xiao sooner and Xiao immediately and seriously shot it down by saying “If you had, I would have been forced to kill you” and both of them now stay up at night wondering who would have won that fight, not sure which result would have hurt more. (because honestly I have no idea who would win in that fight and that terrifies me- I like to think it would have been one of those legends that end with “and the fight persists to this day” or something along those lines)

- “How long have you been together?” “Adepti have no need for-” “1000+ years T^T how dare you deny our love” “O///O our...? ...useless”

- its disney- let me explain- i have this- i have this headcanon inspired by watching too many animatics- - so venti has a human form that isnt his- which he would have had to get used to moving in- and he’s a bard- - uh- anyway- as a third degree black belt in mixed martial arts, i can speak as an authority on this(not really an authority since i havent gone since quarantine but lets pretend). We have a thing referred to as the big three(most things do), and those things are martial arts, gymnastics, and dance. The idea is that they reflect really well off of each other and the best in any one category are good in all three. Timing, balance, form, discipline, technique, hand-eye coordination, grace, ease of motion, they all play a part- anyway-

- Venti taking Xiao’s prowess in martial arts and acrobatics and teaching him how to dance, and as someone who’s extremely skilled in the first two, the third comes easy to him, almost naturally. And it’s delicate and beautiful and lovely and it isn’t hurting anyone. And Venti points all these things out and more and despite how much Xiao insists that he feels ridiculous he truly does enjoy it and it goes a long way towards helping him form more healthy views of himself and his worth.  - Verr Goldett walked in on him once and made a joke about performing at the inn. unfortunately Venti was there and agreed on Xiao’s behalf before he could protest and- and it wasn’t as bad as Xiao thought it would be... he still wouldn’t do it again though without reason, but with good enough reasoning he could probably be convinced. 

- anyways point is he likes dancing to Venti’s songs and i just think that’s really cute - just picture the idea that all the animatics you see actually have the potential to be canon- ugh

- venti tries holding something out of Xiao’s reach since he’s taller and Xiao just fucking teleports 

- both need their space but when they dont, all they have to do is speak the other’s name and they’ll be there.

- and because i just had to.... love languages

- lets start with Xiao- i don’t think he’d view acts of service or quailty time as a love language tbh, and he blunt but really bad with words so affirmation is out, leaving gift giving and physical touch. However, he seems to view most material things as meaningless so- - Xiao who’s love language is in his fleeting touches, something he’s only recently grown comfortable with because of Venti, and now is giving back, which he knows he doesn’t have to do, but that he want’s to, though he’ll still continue to make excuses for each one. “you were shivering” “The inn is high up, you could have fallen..... I said what I said, you’d question an adeptus?”

- and as easy as it is to say words of affirmation for Venti- he does that for everyone- i want to say his is actually acts of service - its the acts of service that let him see just how much Xiao has progressed afterall, from teaching him to dance, to playing another song on the flute, to supplying him with the almond tofu he seems to enjoy so much. Every little thing he does helps Xiao to grow and he couldn’t be happier about that. 

-

- of course most of my headcanons for the ship do take place latter into the relationship because- y’know the less serious unhealthy vibes allow for greater range of thought, but i do still love to think about the serious implications so i kinda hopped back and forth. So sorry about how messy it is btw, i kinda- got carried away- it kinda got some kind of structure near the end tho so- maybe it’s okay. anyway- back to... lol something, we’ll see where thought forests lead. 

[qqueenofhades]

Hi, I’ve been tasked with researching Richard Plantagenet for a paper and thus far found extremely negative accounts of the king, his religious bigotry being a reoccurring theme (his treatment of Jewish dignitaries attending his coronation and his reasoning to join the third crusade etc)

I stumbled across your wonderful tag for Richard at the weekend and wondered if you wouldn’t mind sharing your informed opinion of Richard and his views on religions ? Your writing seems very well balanced regarding his attributes and flaws. Thanks :)

Oof. Okay. So, a short and simple question, then?

Quick note: when I was first reading your ask and saw "Richard Plantagenet," I briefly assumed that you meant Richard Plantagenet, father of Edward IV, or perhaps Richard III, both from the Wars of the Roses in the fifteenth century, before seeing from context that you meant Richard I. While "Plantagenet" was first used as an informal appellation by Richard I's grandfather, Geoffrey of Anjou, it wasn't until several centuries later that the English royal house started to use it consistently as a surname. So it's not something that Richard I would have been really called or known by, even if historians tend to use it as a convenient labeling conceit. (See: the one thousand popular histories on "The Plantagenets" that have been published recently.)

As for Richard I, he is obviously an extremely complex and controversial figure for many reasons, though one of the first things that you have to understand is that he has been mythologized and reinvented and reinterpreted down the centuries for many reasons, especially his crusade participation and involvement in the Robin Hood legends. When you're researching about Richard, you're often reading reactions/interpretations of that material more than anything specifically rooted in the primary sources. And while I am glad that you asked me about this and want to encourage you to do so, I will gently enquire to start off: when you say "research," what kind of materials are you looking at, exactly? Are these actual published books/papers/academic material, or unsourced stuff on the internet written from various amateur/ideological perspectives and by people who have particular agendas for depicting Richard as the best (or as is more often the case, worst) ever? Because history, to nobody's surprise, is complicated. Richard did good things and he also did quite bad things, and it's difficult to reduce him to one or the other.

Briefly (ha): I'll say just that if a student handed me a paper stating that Richard was a religious bigot because a) there were anti-Jewish riots during his coronation and b) he signed up for the Third Crusade, I would seriously question it. Medieval violence against the Jews was an unfortunately endemic part of crusade preparations, and all we know about Richard's own reaction is that he fined the perpetrators harshly (repeated after a similar March 1190 incident in York) and ordered for them to be punished. Therefore, while there famously was significant anti-Semitic violence at his coronation, Richard himself was not the one who instigated it, and he ordered for the Londoners who did take part in it to be punished for breaking the king's peace.

This, however, also doesn't mean that Richard was a great person or that he was personally religiously tolerant. We don't know that and we often can't know that, whether for him or anyone else. This is the difficulty of inferring private thoughts or beliefs from formal records. This is why historians, at least good historians, mostly refrain from speculating on how a premodern private individual actually thought or felt or identified. We do know that Richard likewise also made a law in 1194 to protect the Jews residing in his domains, known as Capitula Judaeis. This followed in the realpolitik tradition of Pope Calixtus II, who had issued Sicut Judaeis in c. 1120 ordering European Christians not to harass Jews or forcibly convert them. This doesn't mean that either Calixtus or Richard thought Jews were great, but they did choose a different and more pragmatic/economic way of dealing with them than their peers. This does not prove "religious bigotry" and would need a lot more attention as an analytical concept.

As for saying that the crusades were motivated sheerly by medieval religious bigotry, I'm gonna have to say, hmm, no. Speaking as someone with a PhD in medieval history who specialised in crusade studies, there is an enormous literature around the question of why the crusades happened and why they continue to hold such troubling attraction as a pattern of behavior for the modern world. Yes, Richard went on crusade (as did the entire Western Latin world, pretty much, since 1187 and the fall of Jerusalem was the twelfth century's 9/11). But there also exists material around him that doesn't exist around any other crusade leader, including his extensive diplomatic relations with the Muslims, their personal admiration for him, his friendship with Saladin and Saladin's brother Saif al-Din, the fact that Arabic and Islamic sources can be more complimentary about Richard than the Christian records of his supposed allies, and so forth. I think Frederick II of Sicily, also famous for his friendly relationships with Muslims, is the only other crusade leader who has this kind of material. So however he did act on crusade, and for whatever reasons he went, Richard likewise chose the pragmatic path in his interactions with Muslims, or at least the Muslim military elite, than just considering them all as religious barbarians unworthy of his time or attention.

The question of how the crusades functioned as a pattern of expected behavior for the European Christian male aristocrat, sometimes entirely divorced from any notion of his private religious beliefs, is much longer and technical than we can possibly get into. (As again, I am roughly summarising a vast and contentious field of academic work for you here, so... yes.) Saying that the crusades happened only because medieval people were all religious zealots is a wild oversimplification of the type that my colleague @oldshrewsburyian and I have to deal with in our classrooms, and likewise obscures the dangerous ways in which the modern world is, in some ways, more devoted to replicating this pattern than ever. It puts it beyond the remit of analysis and into the foggy "Dark Ages hurr durr bad" stereotype that drives me batty.

Weighted against this is the fact that Richard obviously killed many Muslims while on crusade, and that this was motivated by religious and ideological convictions that were fairly standard for his day but less admirable in ours. The question of how that violence has been glorified by the alt-right people who think there was nothing wrong with it at all and he should have done more must also be taken into account. Richard's rise to prominence as a quintessentially English chivalrous hero in the nineteenth century, right when Britain was building its empire and needed to present the crusades as humane and civilizing missions abroad rather than violent and generally failed attempts at forced conversion and conquest, also problematized this. As noted, Richard was many things, but... not that, and when the crusades fell out of fashion again in the twentieth century, he was accordingly drastically villainized. Neither the superhero or the supervillain images of him are accurate, even if they're cheap and easy.

The English nationalists have a complicated relationship with Richard: he represents the ideal they aspire to, aesthetically speaking, and the kind of anti-immigrant sentiment they like to put in his mouth, which is far more than the historical Richard actually displayed toward his Muslim counterparts. (At least, again, so far as we can know anything about his private beliefs, but this is what we can infer from his actions in regard to Saladin, who he deeply respected, and Saladin's brother.) But he was also thoroughly a French knight raised and trained in the twelfth-century martial tradition, his concern for England was only as a minor part of the sprawling 'Angevin empire' he inherited from his father Henry II (which is heresy for the Brexit types who think England should always be the center of the world), and his likely inability to speak English became painted as a huge character flaw. (Notwithstanding that after the Norman Conquest in 1066, England did not have a king who spoke English natively until Henry IV in 1399, but somehow all those others don't get blamed as much as Richard.)

Anyway. I feel as if it's best to stop here. Hopefully this points you toward the complexity of the subject and gives you some guidelines in doing your own research from here. :)

[namenoted]

i want to one day make an actual post talking about my perspective on light and misa’s relationship 

but where do you even start with something like that, i don’t think ive ever even touched on it tbh, ive definitely written about it but not really put it into any sort of meta or anything,,, ive never been really probed too much to talk about it either, i think it’s just sort of the this subject that sits and is acknowledged as it is established but is sort of...not forgotten but not really there while being present. that isn’t necessarily intentional on my part either, but writing light as an individual forces me to sort of put him out on his own sometimes,,,i don’t disregard the fact that he does canonically begin a relationship with her publicly speaking during the intermission arc but there is a sort of cognitive dissonance that has formed around the topic of misa,,

i guess i should write my thoughts up sometime on their relationship and go from there, im sure it’d involve more of my thoughts on the second kira fiasco and how that affected light as a character,, i have a lot of thoughts on how much of the plot relied on forcing light into positions he didn’t necessarily need / want / have to take considering the characterization and plot points we had established ... example: he would never reveal himself to be kira or even hint at it let alone go to L to just out himself to pull this huge stunt, it just seems so unlike him even though he’s dramatic, it’s not like he’s that desperate. i feel like he definitely had a lot of things he had to work around that forced his hand in a way that trapped him into a very small, but explosive arc with L that sort of just fizzled out into the intermission and thus the second arc,,, idk man it’s a combination of things and it isn’t misa’s fault just as she is, it’s a product of somewhat maybe insufficient thought? i can’t say for sure, it seems like she was decided on conceptually pretty early, but there is a sense of disarray to her arrival if that makes sense? which likely was intentional, but i think there’s a sort of separation from the cat / mouse plot with L and kira (light) if that even makes sense? i think it could have been done in a less disjointed manner. 

i definitely understand that death note is a product of its time when i was younger, so i understand the tropes, the ideas, the plots, the concepts that were introduced in this series that either were taken from others or inspired new series at the time because of what was popular to produce. misa has a very intentional role considering death note is a shonen manga, which says a lot about its original intent, and we can see that intent in the pilot. 

anyways this was not meant to be a long post at all but here we are, one day ill make something actually cohesive

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟎.𝟒𝐊 𝐍𝐁: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE 🐚🌊✨ Lightkeeper!Harry is here and I’m BEYOND excited to show you lot this concept I’ve been thinking about quite literally everyday for MONTHS now! I love this story with my entire heart, and I really hope it resonates with some of you and that you fall completely in love with lightkeeper!harry and ST like I have 🥺 Love you! Enjoy! x

Thursday, 11 June

The universe would always balance itself out, Y/N McKay was aware of this. She was aware that if she had faith and believed everything happens for a reason, it would make the tough times of her life easier to mentally handle. If she did good, the universe would work to give it back to her in some other form. However, that didn’t mean that when something dreadful did happen it wouldn’t affect her, and she wouldn’t feel hopeless. Because she did. Very much so.

Most of her life she had lived in a constant state of harmony. She was neither displeased nor satisfied with the life she was leading because it kept her out of trouble; it kept her safe. Her entire life she had lived in peace in Winchester, a fairly prissy town in the middle of Hampshire county in England. Her father owned a business of sorts, Y/N had never gotten the details of it or how he’d gotten where he was, but all she knew was he inherited it from his father and it was expected to be handed down generation after generation in the McKay family. However, Y/N was an only child and neither her mum nor her dad thought she’d be fit to run the business when the time came.

“Nothing personal, darling,” her mother had said when it was brought up during a dinner when Y/N was still in sixth form. “You just don’t have the brains for it.”

“What your mother means to say,” Y/N’s father went on. “You’re so intelligent in your own way, running the business won’t make you happy.”

They always called it that. The business. They never told her what it was about or explained when she asked questions about it. Not that she expected her dad to be a drug lord, but it would’ve been nice to be let in on something. It would’ve been nice to be given the opportunity to feel of enough importance to someone to know special things.

Y/N looked out the window of the train, the Cornish coast stretching out as far as the eye could see, the sun not yet hanging high enough on the sky to make it dreadful to walk outside in her black oversized smock dress. The book in her lap was still open, though she’d read the same page over and over and over again, not being able to concentrate for long enough to remember what happened at the top of the piece of paper. Everything was fuzzy and she had too much to think about; too much to consider.

The last 24 hours had been the worst of her life. Yesterday had turned everything upside down and she hated it. However, thinking the universe would balance itself out and work in her favour, she was also aware that the reason her life needed help to be smoothed out by higher powers in the first place, was because it was in imbalance. Something was off. Something had thrown it off. But she forced herself to stay hopeful, knowing that if she lost that little flicker of hope in what seemed like an endless night, it’d be next to impossible to find her way back to peacefulness.

She glanced down at the book in her lap and was about to start reading again, not liking it when she had to put the book away in the middle of a chapter. She wasn’t given the opportunity as the overhead speakers sounded their soft alarm, and next second, a woman was speaking.

“Next stop is St Ives. Doors will open on the right-hand side.”

The nerves Y/N had felt in the pit of her stomach came back again, this time with more intensity than the last few. Though she realised what she was doing that morning when she boarded her train for Reading, and then again when she stepped on the train for St Erth, and yet again when she sat down on the train towards St Ives, this time it felt worse than all those times before. This was it. She was here.

She had no idea why she chose St Ives out of all places in Cornwall – in the world even –, why here of all places? Even years later, she could never seem to remember the exact moment when she chose that coastal town, or why it had appealed to her at all. Maybe it was the fact that it had a beach, or that it wasn’t particularly populated, or that there was no way anyone she had ever known would be there. The most important part however, and maybe the only reason why she chose St Ives, was because it was far away from Winchester. It was far away from her family, from her ex, and everything she associated with that town and everyone living in it.

She put The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall away in her purse, slinging her purse over her head to rest across her chest before she reached up and took her old leather bag down from the overhead compartment.  This was the only one she would risk bringing as it used to be her father’s back in the day, but he never used it anymore and wouldn’t suspect it being gone. Placing the strap on her shoulder, she walked off to the closest door, apologising when she jabbed someone with her bag on the way out.

Stepping off, Y/N instantly regretted wearing a long-sleeved dress. Though she was under the protection of the roof above the platform, the heat was still almost insufferable. It got her wondering if this was just a normal day in the very South of England or if it was an exceptionally hot one. She prayed for the latter.

She walked out of the station, staying in the cool shade for a few minutes longer as she typed in the address of the inn she was staying at. Not really knowing how public transit worked here yet, she didn’t want to risk taking the wrong bus or asking a tourist for directions to a place they’d never heard of. Instead, she put her EarPods in and went on her merry way. The second she stepped out into the sun, she was once again reminded of why she’d never wear that black dress again that summer.

The Roaming Crab Inn was on The Terrace, the road along the coast of St Ives, holding dozens of hotels and other places to stay during a visit. Y/N didn’t know why she’d chosen this exact inn, or how she’d even happened upon it. It might’ve had something to do with the picture of the old lady grinning from ear to ear on the inn’s website. A picture that was so lovely and so warm that, in the midst of everything Y/N was going through right then, it made her tear up.

She stepped into the inn, placing her sunglasses on the top of her head, and made sure her hair looked alright before walking a bit further inside. Cherry wooden panels lined the floors, walls, and ceiling, a reception desk in the same style attached to the wall to the right. Pictures of all kinds of people hung on the walls. Y/N suspected it might be locals as well as dear guests who had come and gone over the years. No lights were on as the sharp afternoon sun was sufficient in keeping the lobby just bright enough o that electricity wasn’t needed. Fake green vines hung along the ceiling and walls, as well as from different pots on the fireplace to the right that didn’t seem to be in use. Still, two old recliners stood beside it, tempting to sit down and drown in, to escape a turbulent life.

To the left was a staircase leading up to the other landings, and though Y/N hadn’t stepped foot on it yet, she already knew it creaked. This entire house seemed more like a cottage you’d find in the middle of the country, not on the coast of South England. She slowly started making her way over to the reception, and that was when she noticed the back door. Behind the desk was an old, white windowed door, a little smaller in height but a little wider in breadth than normal doors – like the entrance. It was open, leading the way out into a back garden that seemed to be both small and surrounded by the neighbouring houses on all sides. The wooden fence was covered in vines, flowers of all kinds poking out amongst them and on the ground around. The stone paved patio seemed to be old and uneven, there was a set of bistro metal chairs in all the colours of the rainbow along with a white table to match them.

A gang of old ladies sat around the table, chattering amongst themselves and occasionally laughing, all holding a different knitting project each. Y/N hated the thought of disturbing them, but she also just wanted to check in and go up to her room; maybe even go for a walk to take a look around the place she’d be in for the next few weeks.

She reached for the bell, hitting it lightly as to not make it sound urgent and intrusive. A small yelp was heard from the back garden and then the sound of the metal chair scraping against the stone patio. As she heard the footsteps get closer, Y/N glanced around, taking in the interior of the inn undisturbed one more. As someone appeared in the doorway and their eyes met, the old lady who stood there gave Y/N that warm smile of hers she’d seen online the night before.

“Hello, dear!” she chirped, placing her glasses on the bridge of her nose and walking over to the computer on her side of the desk. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you. And yourself?”

The old lady smiled, her eyes almost disappearing behind her high cheekbones. Her long white hair was fastened in a bun at the back of her head, the rest of her dressed in a pair of white trousers and a tunic with some bird print on it.

“I’m wonderful. What’s your name then, lovely?”

“Y/N McKay.”

“Ahh,” she said. “You’re the one who booked your stay last night.”

“That’s me, yeah,” Y/N chuckled, brushing some hair behind her ear.

“Till August 10th.”

“Yes.”

“Right then, Y/N,” the lady said, taking a key hanging from the wall beside her and taking her glasses off, smiling the entire time. “Let me show you to your room.”

The two walked up to the second floor, taking a right as they arrived and the inn-keeper unlocked the door. The innkeeper kept the door open for Y/N, letting her walk in first. Though the floor and ceiling were similar to the wooden panels of the lobby, the walls were white. Against the same wall that the door came to rest against stood an old blue dresser, and a fake flower in an elegant vase that seemed to be just one of the many flowers in the room. The double bed stood to the far left wall, white sheets covering it and looking so lush that it took everything in Y/N not to sprint over and throw herself onto it. There was a desk as well as a recliner, and a window on the opposite wall overlooking the ocean that was just about a minute’s walk from here.

“The bathroom is over there,” the innkeeper said, pointing at a door beside the staircase. “You share it with the other guests on the same floor as you, alright?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Y/N admitted, genuinely meaning it as well. She didn’t see the problem with that in the least.

“I’m mostly downstairs or in the next house over, which is mine,” she continued. “So if there’s ever anything you think I could help you with, do pop by.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, my goodness,” she suddenly exclaimed, walking over to Y/N. “I’ve completely forgotten to introduce myself. I’m Bessie.” Bessie smiled at Y/N again, making the latter almost want to cry for the umpteenth time that day. “And I really hope you enjoy your stay here in St Ives.”

With that, the innkeeper left Y/N to herself. Y/N let her bag and purse fall to the floor before she dragged the chair by the desk over to the window. She opened it and just stared out across the beach and sea outside. Seagulls were howling overhead, waves were crashing against shore, and the familiar salty scent of the presence of the ocean lingered in the air constantly. It was like one of those trips she’d taken with her parents every summer, a new place every year, always by the coast. Her favourite might’ve been their vacation in Bali. It was gorgeous beyond comprehension, in a way no other place she’d ever been could come close to. But she was aware she’d never go on another trip with her parents again. Not after everything that happened the night before.

Now she couldn’t rely on them any longer. She was on her own. She had no idea what she was going to do, no idea what lay ahead of her. As she at on the chair looking out over St Ives, the town she’d spend her summer in, she realised she’d never felt more forlorn.

St Ives is a coastal town located in the very south-west of the southernmost county in England, Cornwall. It is known for its surf beaches – most well-known being Porthmeor – and its many art galleries and restaurants. Tate St Ives is a gallery at the seafront and has rotating modern art exhibitions, focusing primarily on British artists. The Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden is located in the modernist artist’s former studio, displaying her bronzes and other works.Y/N, having grown up in a fairly posh family with exquisite and particular taste, knew a thing or two about art. 

She always had her purse on her, and in it she’d keep all the essentials for going out and about. Hand sanitiser, Kleenex, band-aids, pads, keys, a portable charger, and the book she was currently reading. The Well of Loneliness lay in her purse as she strolled around, a St Ives guide book in her hand that she’d bought at one of the local stores on what must’ve been their high street.

First and foremost, she wanted to do some sightseeing. She’d be here for a long time, so she might as well get acquainted with the town she’d stay in and learn its ins and outs. There is this part of St Ives called The Island, that isn’t at all an island, but it is just called that. The Island is the imposing headland that juts out into the seat from the spit of land that separates the harbour and Porthmeor beach – the most popular and most central beach in the town. In ancient times it was a promontory fort, but these days it’s probably better known as a location of the tiny chapel of St Nicholas. Walking to The Island, Y/N took in the incredible views of the ocean surrounding her, and the beach – The Townas - beside her that was cramped between The Island and Godrevy Point on the other side.

To her left was what looked to be Hellesveor Cliff, and at the very point of it, on the top of what must’ve been the most haunting cliff Y/N had ever seen, stood a lighthouse. Looking in her guide book, it didn’t say much about the lighthouse except the care of it had been passed down generation after generation by the family currently living there. It was at the very edge of St Ives, farther out than Godrevy Point. It made it so Porthmeor, St Ives, and The Townas were all guarded by these two points, the St Ives Lighthouse watching over its town and the far coast around.

Continuing on her walk, she strolled down the Down-a-long, which is the old, lower part of St Ives built on the narrow ridge of land that separated The Island to the rest of the town. This part of town is the archetypal image of St Ives with its jumble of cobble streets lined with whitewashed, old cottages, some seeming to fall apart and others in better condition. Y/N thought the street names were equally evocative and unique, some of her favourites being Salubrious Place, Teetotal Street, and The Digney. Though it said in her catalogue that fishermen used to live in the Down-a-long before, next to none lived there now as most of it was occupied by galleries, cafes, and little shows that one can shake a stick at. As she strolled through Fore Street, the main shopping street in St Ives, she walked by a vintage shop – Vintage Divine – and jotted it down on her phone.

All her life, Y/N had always loved everything vintage. She liked the thought of owning something that had once been part of someone else’s life, that had made them happy enough they wanted to hand it on and give someone else that same happiness they’d experienced. Though neither her mum, her dad, or her ex-boyfriend liked her obsession with vintage and stuff owned by others before her, their disinterest had never stopped her from going to markets or stores. However, she never bought anything unless she knew she could hide it. Now, she thought, that didn’t have to be a problem.

A few years back when she started to realise her obsession with old stuff, furniture, clothing, and books owned by others before her, she read an article online. The article had suggested that people are attracted to vintage pieces because they offer an escape. Wearing these garments, holding these ornaments, touching furniture from another time is a way to experience a different life. A life that isn’t your own and that was lived before hers or parallel to hers. Shopping vintage then created an exciting search for something special and creative, something a normal shopping trip could never give her. It was weird how much she was looking forward to going through that shop, Y/N realised, but she couldn’t wait to explore and take items home with her. Not that she expected she’d be welcomed home to Winchester anytime soon, but she chose not to think about that too much.

Fore Street was a narrow and cobblestone-clad street with people milling about trying to find a decent place for lunch. Stone cottages lined both sides of the street, either a neutral colour like white, a dull yellow, beige, light blue, or just plain, grey stone. Y/N enjoyed walking among these houses. It was a quiet town, peace seemed to be permanently settled between the cramped streets and tiny houses. Though Winchester wasn’t London with its tall buildings and never-ending bustle, St Ives was even smaller than her hometown, which made it that much more appealing to her. There was a sense of relaxation in the mere atmosphere around her that massaged the tension out of her shoulders and straightened her hunched back.

The door to the Seafood Café she was about to walk by burst open. A couple of people standing around jumped at the commotion, as did Y/N. Dressed in high-waisted loose fitted denim jeans, a white tee shirt tucked into them, a pair of orange worn down Vans, and brown curls in a dishevelled mess, the man who caused the ruckus didn’t seem to notice everyone’s attention being on him. He halted a bit as he came outside before he walked left. Y/N stopped moving, the sudden interruption in her peaceful stroll taking her off guard. The man suddenly started straight for Y/N, his head bent, eyes on the cobblestone before him. He didn’t seem to notice where he was going, not looking up in the direction he was heading. So, when he saw Y/N’s shadow, that’s when he glanced up. Their eyes met just a second before he managed to stop, preventing them from crashing into one another.

“Oh!” he erupted, voice crescendoing. He blinked twice, eyes settling on her for a few seconds before he said a quick, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I should’ve moved out of the way,” Y/N assured him, about to step to the side when she noticed his lips moving again. No words came out, though. She stood there for a few seconds, just watching his jaw and lips work, not seeming to find his words.

“Have a good day,” she went on, trying to step out of the way when the man blurted out, “Please, miss.”

She looked at him again, about to narrow her eyes when she saw a troubled expression on his face. His eyes were a little wide and he glanced over his shoulder before meeting her eyes again. The door to Seafood Café opened again, a woman and a younger girl stepping out.

“Please,” he repeated, voice low. “Go along.”

Y/N frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll owe you my entire life if you just play along for a minute or two, yeah?”

She cocked her head some to the side. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. I should-“

“-I don’t usually do this- I mean, I never do, I’ve never done this before – ever -, but-but they think I have a girlfriend and I don’t. Please-“

“-Harry!”

The man – who Y/N could only assume to be Harry - turned around to face a tiny Filipina woman and an even smaller girl beside her, who looked to be no older than ten. The two looked Y/N over, eyes scanning her from head to toe. Y/N felt like she was under a magnifying glass.

But while they took her in, Y/N’s thoughts wandered to the words the man beside her had said only a few seconds earlier. “They think I have a girlfriend and I don’t.” Was he… was he saying what Y/N thought he was saying? She glanced at him, seeing him draw a shaky breath and meet her eyes, waiting for her to make the next move it seemed. Everything that had happened in the last minute confused her. She didn’t know this man, didn’t know what he’d told these two women or why. She was also well aware that by just walking away she wouldn’t need to worry about him any longer; his problems weren’t hers. This seemed messy, confusing, and a little risky.

Usually, she wouldn’t want any part of it. The Y/N she was yesterday wouldn’t have considered this. She would’ve looked at the man apologetically before excusing herself and walking off, leaving him to figure out whatever lie he’d told these two on his own. But Y/N had changed. Or… at least that’s what she wanted to believe… Fine, she wanted to change, and maybe this was a place to start.

Harry sighed, turning around to face the two he had tried to get away from, shoulders sinking as he met their eyes. The defeat was evident in his body language; he was about to give up and just tell them that he didn’t have a girlfriend. That’s what finally did it, seeing how it took absolutely everything out of him to tell them the following. “Jasmine, I’m sorry, I need to tell you-“

“-It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Y/N interrupted him, smiling as she stepped out from behind Harry. Though she had seriously considered helping him, it still surprised her when she actually heard the words coming out of her mouth. Her heart was beating about as fast as it had that morning when she’d left Hampshire.

Harry looked at her, mouth falling open, obviously shocked by her willingness to help him. It took him a few seconds to gather himself, but once he did, he looked back at the two they were trying to convince with a bright smile on his face.

“What did you have to tell me, Harry?” the older woman asked.

“That, uhh…” He looked at Y/N again before glancing at who she could only assume to be Jasmine. “Jessa, this is my girlfriend.”

Jasmine raised her eyebrows, eyes lighting up suddenly. The girl beside her stood there fidgeting with the hem of her top, looking Y/N up and down still.

“Hi,” Y/N said, stepping forward and reaching her hand out for Jasmine. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Jasmine said, a smile coming to rest on her round face as they let go of the others’ hand. “Harry, you said her name was unusual.”

“That… I-“ Harry stopped himself.

Y/N’s lips parted, unsure how to react to that.

“That’s why you didn’t want to tell us her name, since it was so unusual. Y/N isn’t unusual.”

Y/N chuckled a little, looking at Harry whose whole face was a shade of red she’d never seen before. He glanced around him, meeting her gaze before quickly looking to the ground, scratching at his neck.

“You thought my name was weird?” She was well aware Harry hadn’t known her name until that point, let alone had any time to form an opinion on it. But regardless, she found it funny how he’d refused to give them his pretend girlfriend’s name by telling them it was an unusual one, as if they’d laugh at it.

“I didn’t-“ Harry sighed. “It wasn’t like I was embarrassed I just…” He trailed off, motioning with his hands, but Y/N had no idea what that meant. She didn’t take it to heart, though, knowing it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with his cover-up story.

“He has such a way with words,” Jasmine said, clicking her tongue at him. “Anyway, I’m Jasmine, but just call me Jessa. Harry’s stepmother.”

“And I’m Grace.” The little one stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear. The small one had the same roundness to her face as the woman beside her, as well as the same flat nose and almond shaped eyes like Jessa’s. “Harry’s kept you a secret.”

“Gracie, I haven’t kept her a secret as much as I’ve kept her away,” Harry said. “You’re gonna scare her.”

“We won’t scare her!” Jessa exclaimed. “It’s your girlfriend, Harry! We will be nice.”

“Somehow doubt that.” Harry turned to Y/N, turning his back to his step mum and what must be his half-sister. “They like to interrogate, especially Jasmine.”

“You villainise us,” Jessa said, walking closer to them and taking Y/N’s hand between hers. It took her off guard and she almost pulled her hand away, the feel of someone’s skin voluntarily touching hers felt weird.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Harry continued, ignoring Jessa. There was an apology in his eyes that he didn’t voice. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought she saw anyway. “They’ll make it hard to enjoy yourself.”

Jessa reached over and pinched Harry’s exposed forearm. He flinched away from her, glaring as he stepped back a few paces.

“Now you’re being rude.”

“I don’t want you lot to make her uncomfortable with all your questions,” Harry said, a frown etched in his forehead. He hadn’t met Y/N’s eyes directly ever since they almost walked into one another. “Besides, she’s…” Harry’s eyes fell to the guide in Y/N’s hand. “She’s sightseeing.”

Y/N smiled at Jessa and Grace, showing them the small book she was carrying with her. “I’ve just been to the Island. The view from there is fantastic.”

“Harry, the view from the Island is nothing. Have you shown her yet?”

“Jessa, it’s… she’s just…”

Finally, he looked at her, not knowing what to say that would make his stepmother give it a rest. Y/N could understand why she asked so many questions, she was just eager to get to know someone who she thought was Harry’s new partner.

“I arrived this morning,” Y/N answered, smiling at Jasmine. “We haven’t had the time to meet up properly, so in the meantime I’ve just been walking around.”

“Where’s your luggage?”

“At the Inn. The Roaming Crab.”

Jessa’s eyes went wide, looking at Harry disapprovingly again. “She’s not even staying with you? What kind of boyfriend are you?”

“She could stay at our house,” Grace said, eyes on the space that separated Y/N and Harry before she met Y/N’s eyes.

“It’s not that… It’s not like that, I-“ Harry stopped himself, dragging his hand over his face that had been bright red ever since this whole spectacle started. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“Am I?” Jessa crossed her arms.

“Yes… I-“ Harry stuttered and though Y/N hadn’t known this man for very long, she could tell he found it hard to find his words in stressful situations.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm each other. We haven’t stayed together for a long period of time before, this would be the first, so I’m staying at the Inn so we won’t get tired of each other too quickly.” Y/N hoped she sounded confident and truthful; she wouldn’t want to blow this for Harry already. After all, she had no idea how long he’d need this pretend girlfriend lie for.

A frown appeared between Jasmine’s brows and it dawned on Y/N that she must’ve said something wrong just now. Panic rose to her chest, but Harry cleared his throat.

“Except for that trip to Exeter last month, but that was only a single weekend. Now she’s here for…” He narrowed his eyes, as if the answer was at the tip of his tongue but Y/N knew she was the only one with an answer to that.

“August 12th,” she said, Jessa letting go of a small squeal at the sound of it. “Dunno how many weeks that’ll be, but I’m-“

“-That’s fantastic! You need to come to Gracie’s birthday next weekend.”

Harry stuttered a little, Jessa’s enthusiasm making him nervous, Y/N thought. “Nanay-“

“-She’s going to love that, won’t you, Gracie?”

Grace nodded her head, grinning up at Y/N. “You can put pretty stuff on my eyelids.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows some and Jessa laughed. “Eyeshadow.”

“Oh! Well, I don’t have loads of that since I’m no good with make-up, but I do have nice jewellery.” Y/N picked at the one she was wearing just then, a gold necklace she’d gotten for her birthday the year before.

Grace’s smile didn’t fade one bit at that. In fact, it only seemed to get a little bigger at the sight of Y/N’s pretty necklace. The girl didn’t say anything, but she swayed from side to side, looking excitedly up at her brother’s supposed new girlfriend.

“You’re coming then?” Jessa asked, looking so happy she might burst, and it hurt Y/N that she probably wouldn’t.

“Jessa, we have barely had time to catch up, let her breathe,” Harry pleaded and Jessa waved her hands at them.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, Y/N. It’s just…” Jasmine’s eyes fell on Harry standing beside Y/N, her eyes glistening. “It’s just so nice to know Harry’s not alone anymore.”

“I’ve never been alone, nanay.”

Jessa shook her head, sighing heavily. “Alright, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. You’ll probably want some time to yourselves to just walk around. Has she been to the lighthouse, Harry? Take her there.”

Harry sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “Nay-“

“-Fine, we’ll leave. It was so nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Jessa. And you, Grace.”

Grace gave a wave before Jessa took her hand and the two walked away, probably on their way home or whatever other plans they had. Y/N watched them for a few before turning to Harry. His blush had calmed down a little, but a bead of sweat had appeared at his cupid’s bow. If it was because of nerves or the weather, she did not know, but she was not about to ask him that.

Upon closer inspection and now that they didn’t have Harry’s stepmum and sister watching over them, Y/N could finally study the man she rescued for a total of five minutes. Green eyes that reminded her of the moors she’d spend time running through each summer, a slight stubble along his soft jawline, nose a little too big for his face, and a slight dimple in each cheek even though he wasn’t smiling fully yet. She wondered what they’d look like if he actually grinned.

“Hi,” she said, reaching her hand out. “Y/N.”

Harry chuckled softly, taking her hand, eyes staying on the place they were touching each other. “Harry.”

“I’m glad I could be of some help, Harry.”

A crooked smile reached his lips as his eyes fell to the ground and he stepped away, letting his hand fall to hit his thigh. He glanced up at her. “Thank you for that. They say they’re worried, but they’re really just nosey.”

Y/N grimaced a little, making a breathy laugh escape Harry’s lips. “Is your life more interesting than theirs?”

“Not in the least. I lead the most boring existence in the most boring town in the United Kingdom.”

She chuckled, reaching for her necklace. “Not sure you can claim that title, my life’s pretty up there as well.”

Harry tried to shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans, but the arms of his denim jacket wrapped around his waist were in the way. “Oh?”

“Blimey, I won’t keep you if you’ve got things to do. You look like a busy man.”

Harry stared at the watch on his wrist and bit his bottom lip, looking up at her through his thick set of dark eyelashes. “Yeah, I gotta be on my way actually.”

She gave him a smile, getting one in return.

“Listen, thank you so much for that. I just needed to get them off my back. You don’t actually have to come to Gracie’s birthday party, Jessa just loves when she gets to interrogate people. Her favourite sport is discussing gossip.”

Y/N laughed. “You burn a lot of calories doing that.”

Harry chuckled, scratching at his neck as his eyes fell to her neck and then shoulder. “Anyway, I don’t know how to repay you. If you’re here till August, I guess I’ll see you around.”

For some reason, Harry not really knowing what to say was funny to Y/N. It wasn’t like he owed her anything or the other way around. She’d just helped him out and now they could part ways. Easy as that.

“You don’t have to repay me, I’m glad I could help,” she smiled. “I’ll try and stay out of your way if I see you out and about. You know, to avoid the awkward conversation of telling them we’re not actually together.”

Harry’s lips tipped upward. “Right, thanks.”

“Now, since I’m talking to you,” she said, opening the catalogue again. “Where’s the Tate Gallery?”

Harry turned around, pointing up Fore Street from where they stood. “When you reach Bunkers Hill, you follow that all the way up to Back Road, then you just walk along The Digney and it’ll be on your right-hand side.”

“Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you. I… It was too much-“

“-I’m serious when I say I’m glad I could help, don’t worry about it.” She shot him one last smile before giving him a wave. “Bye, Harry.”

“Bye,” he said, giving her a short nod before she focused her attention back on her surroundings. She needed to catch the street names and get her walk to the Tate on the first try because she could really not be asked to walk back and whip her phone out. After all, Harry just helped her so it was going to be easy to just follow his navigation and get there.

As she strolled along the gallery and the rest of St Ives that day, she couldn’t help but think about that little encounter earlier. She wondered what happened after that, if Jessa and Grace demanded more information from Harry or if he told them how it was all a lie. Putting it all aside, she focused on her trip instead. She’d never meet that family again, but she really hoped everything worked out for them regardless. The last thing she needed was for this summer to be about anything but her and what she really wanted in life. She didn’t need distractions. Her whole life up until now had been a distraction.

Friday, 12 June

Being in south England and not taking advantage of the amazing beaches this part of the country offered, was maybe on the same wrongdoing scale as committing a serious crime. Y/N had gotten dressed that morning and headed straight downstairs to eat breakfast in the tiny dining hall of the Inn. It was positioned in what must’ve originally been the living room in the house, four tables placed in there with two chairs placed by each of them. The dining room had the same layout as the entrance to the Inn; wooden panels all over, flowers and plants everywhere along with pictures and candles to top it off.

When she walked downstairs, Bessie was quick to jump up from where she was sitting in her small back garden, meeting Y/N with a warm beam on her face. When Bessie asked Y/N if she’d like a meat, vegetarian, or vegan full English, Y/N startled herself by replying vegetarian. She hadn’t grown up vegetarian, but in all her life, she’d never had a purely vegetarian meal. So, instead of correcting herself, she let Bessie make her that vegetarian breakfast. The thought of eating something she hadn’t before didn’t make her anxious as she thought it would’ve, but she was rather excited about the whole thing.

Bessie came out with the tray, setting it down before Y/N and asked her if she would mind Bessie’s company. With a quick reply encouraging the old lady to sit down, Bessie ran – or walked as fast as her short legs could take her – outside and returned with her knitting. Y/N had been alone pretty much all day the day before nd she had anticipated being alone all day today as well, so she rather enjoyed Bessie’s company. She had never really envisioned this to be part of her trip to Cornwall – an old lady with her grey hair put neatly in a bun with two knitting needles holding it up, wearing a long bohemian dress and glasses perched on the end of her nose, talking her ear off and Y/N having an immense amount of fun in the process.

The sea and seagulls sounded from inside the Inn, but as Y/N put her bathing suit and summer dress on, on her way down towards the beach, the costal sounds only intensified. The salt in the air clung to her skin and the smell of seaweed got more prominent the closer she got to the ocean. She put her stuff down and brought The Well of Loneliness out again, wanting to finish the book that day because she really wanted to know how it all ended. She wasn’t sure how much time went by as she laid there, completely captivated by the world Radclyffe Hall had created within the book.

It wasn’t that Y/N particularly enjoyed the book. No, it wasn’t that. It was endlessly long and detailed, for absolutely no purpose. The writing wasn’t particularly memorable; one wouldn’t remember it for its evocative and imaginative characteristics, nor for Hall’s ability to tell instead of show. Over the years she’d studied English in college, Y/N knew that a writer should be able to balance those two out; show some, tell some. But that concept was lost on Hall. No, Y/N didn’t like The Well of Loneliness for its writing, not even the plot.

She liked the book because of the plea embedded in it. The plea for LGBT people to be treated as human; that they were normal and not a disease. Why did they have to be other? They didn’t choose this life so why were they to be punished for it by being treated differently? By being illegal? The Well of Loneliness was published around the same time Orlando by Virginia Woolf, who was one of Y/N’s favourite authors ever. Though these two books touched on similar themes of identity, where Orlando shrouded the issue of mysticism, The Well dared to discuss sexual identity openly. Y/N commended Radclyffe Hall for that.

However much Y/N sympathised with Hall and the main character, Stephen, she couldn’t help but laugh at the hypocrisy in the book. While it attempted to strive for acceptance of one minority, it also emanated an underlying attitude of snobbishness and chauvinism towards other minorities at the same time, which made no sense to Y/N. Then again, it was the 1920s, so she guessed she couldn’t really ask for anything else from a rich white person at the time.

Having finally finished the book, Y/N asked someone nearby if they could watch her things while she took a dip. There was a blonde bloke around her age and another bloke with blue hair, sitting not too far off, and when she asked if they could keep an eye on her stuff, they promised they would.

Y/N took her time swimming, trying to remember the last time she’d been on a beach where the public were allowed. It was odd seeing so many around her, but she liked it. She liked the sound of others around her. Silence was good, but in the disturbance of human noise was the reassurance of rescue. The promise that you might be lonely, but you are never alone.

Walking back up to her picnic blanket, Y/N thanked the two men before lying back down, soaking up the sun. She hadn’t been aware she’d already been at the beach for a few hours until she realised her stomach was rumbling. So, packing her stuff together and making sure her hair was somewhat dry, she walked around to see if there were any places she could sit down. The only place on Porthminster Beach was the café with the same name, and by the looks of it, it was completely full. Since Bessie had served Y/N some breakfast, she must have something for lunch as well.

Walking back the 5 minute to the hotel, Bessie jumped up from her place in the back garden, sitting back there with two other ladies and knitting like they’d done the day before.

“Hello, dear, you had a good trip to the beach?”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel completely at ease in this old woman’s company. “Yes, I did. A bit hungry, though, do you have something I could eat, possibly?”

“Of course! What do you fancy?”

“Oh, a toastie’s fine.”

“Vegetarian?”

For some reason, the fact Bessie remembered Y/N’s preference from this morning made her smile. “Yes,” she said without thinking.

“Right, just sit down and I’ll come by with your lunch, my lovely.”

“Thank you so much, Bessie.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Y/N sat down, bringing her phone out as she hadn’t checked it properly in a few hours. She wasn’t sure what she expected, to be fair. There was no one from home who would want to contact her, and if they were to, they would rather look around Winchester than call. In their minds, she couldn’t have run far. Regardless, the mere fact they hadn’t even called her made something inside her sink a little. It felt awful knowing how little she meant to them all along. So little that they wouldn’t even pick up the phone and save her a call or a text.

“Here, my dear,” Bessie said, putting down a tray before Y/N. “I’m gonna pop outside to my little knitting club, if that’s fine by you. Just come on out if you don’t have anything else to do after this, yeah?”

“Thank you so much,” Y/N said and Bessie smiled at her before she disappeared outside again.

Turning her attention to her food, Y/N started thinking about what she could do the rest of the day. She could walk some more around town, she’d seen bigger parts of it yesterday, but there were always corners of a town that needed discovering. Once she was about halfway through her toastie, hasty footsteps sounded from the lobby and a somewhat familiar figure appeared. He stopped a bit on his way towards the reception desk, as if he didn’t want to be a bother to Bessie of some kind by asking for assistance. Bessie appeared a few seconds later, grinning from ear to ear as usual.

“Hello, Harry love.”

“Hi, Bess. I…” he stopped himself, running his hands up and down the sides of his white and grey striped cotton-blend trousers, a navy blue tee shirt tucked into it and a pair of white Vans on his feet. “I just wanted to come check again.”

“For the third time.”

“Yeah, well…” He did a quick shrug. “I just wanted to check.”

“She’s here.” Bessie gestured to Harry’s right and when he looked that way, his eyes immediately found Y/N’s. She didn’t think she’d ever see him again. However, a summer in a small coastal town would make that very hard. She’d try her hardest to stay out of Harry’s way, as well as his family’s, so she wouldn’t make things awkward. She would have escaped to a town a little further south or on the other side of Cornwall, but she was settled in now and she’d already paid for her whole stay.

Though she’d promised to keep away from him to prevent any unpleasant situations, Harry hadn’t made her the same promise. And here he was. For some reason. He seemed both taken off guard to see her sitting there as well as relieved he’d finally caught her. A sigh left him, slumping his tense shoulders a little before he thanked Bessie quickly and walked to Y/N.

“Is it,” he started as he made his way over. “Is it okay if I sit down?”

Y/N nodded her head while swallowing, gesturing with her hand at the chair opposite hers. “Yes, go ahead,” she said when her mouth was free to.

“Cheers.” Harry sat down, slid a little closer to the table and rested his hands between his legs as he leaned back against the back of the chair.

The two fell into silence for a little while, Y/N watching as Harry’s eyes fixed on the small bouquet of flowers in the tiny vase placed in the middle of the round table. Yes, she loved company, but Harry’s had taken her a little by surprise and she was eager to know why he’d come looking for her. She didn’t want to try and draw a conclusion herself without hearing his reasoning first, knowing that whatever she came up with wouldn’t be correct anyway. Instead, she put her toastie back on her plate and focused her attention on Harry, who had yet to say anything. From the way he was biting the inside of his lip, she assumed he was mulling over the right thing to say. It didn’t seem to ever come when finally, he opened his mouth.

“First, I just want to say sorry for yesterday,” he said, meeting her eyes, but quickly looking to her shoulder. “It was proper daft. I was desperate and I panicked, and you were right there.” He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

Y/N just gave him a smile. “You don’t have to apologise, I’m glad I could help.”

“And I appreciate you helping me out, I really do, but… here’s the thing…” He cleared his throat. “Jessa and Gracie are right about losing their minds of this.”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh?”

“Yeah, they called and texted all last night and this morning, saying how nice it was to meet you, that I need to bring you to Grace’s birthday next Saturday,” Harry said. “And it makes me wonder if it was even worth it yesterday. I still appreciate what you did, and this is all my fault, but I think…” He trailed off again, scratching at the back of his neck. “Look, I’m doing a naff job of explaining this.”

Sipping her juice, Y/N just smiled at him till she put her glass down. “Take your time.”

He took a deep breath. “Think I might tell them it’s all fake. I don’t have a partner and that’s fine.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, being single is fine.”

“Only thing that’s stopping me is the fact that Jasmine will be crushed. Ever since my dad died, she’s been so worried about me living alone in the lighthouse.”

There was so much to unpack in that sentence that Y/N felt herself retract a little, scanning his face for what the appropriate reaction to that would be. Harry must’ve noticed her silence so he glanced at her face, eyes going wide.

“Oh! Don’t feel like you-“

“-I’m sorry about your dad.”

“No, that’s okay, he hasn’t been with us for two years now,” Harry went on. “That was a real mood killer. Bringing up my dead father with someone I barely know.”

Y/N smiled. “Think you fake breaking up with me was a great mood killer before that was even brought up.”

Harry smiled a little at that, those deep dimples just barely gracing his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” She wiped at her mouth with the napkin, brows slowly coming into a frown. “You said something about a lighthouse… do you live there?”

“In the lighthouse?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I’m the lighthouse keeper.”

Her frown deepened a little.

“What?”

“I didn’t think those existed anymore.”

“What, lighthouses?” Harry’s smile widened, amusement tracing his pink lips.

“No, lighthouse keepers.”

He shrugged. “Here’s a living, breathing example of one.”

She couldn’t help her laughter. “Fine, I take it back. I don’t really think about lighthouses enough to give their keepers much of a thought either.”

“Too bad.”

Y/N just shook her head some, noticing a slight redness to Harry’s cheeks that hadn’t been there a few seconds earlier. “You were saying about Jessa.”

“She’s worried about me living alone in the lighthouse. Says I’ll be lonely and that she thinks about me sitting up there crying my eyes out or summat.”

“Do you? Cry your eyes out?”

“No, I like having my own space. I like living there alone. She’s just being a protective stepmum, looking out for me and all that. Like, yes, I’m still sad Dad is dead, but it wasn’t like he lived with me in the lighthouse anyway. He lived with Jasmine and Grace.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “She doesn’t want you to be alone ‘cause she thinks you don’t want to be.”

“Exactly,” Harry said, pausing a bit before mumbling something that sounded like, “That’s why I’ve told them for a few months now that I have a girlfriend.”

She narrowed her eyes some.

“To get them off my back, innit? I don’t want them to think I’m miserable, ‘cause I’m not. But when I told them I had a girlfriend, they got so happy, yeah? I just tried to be as vague as possible, didn’t give them a name and they didn’t ask, assuming I wanted to keep her secret. Jessa hasn’t bugged me about this in weeks… Until yesterday.”

Y/N started piecing everything together. “That’s why you stormed out of the restaurant.”

He nodded. “And ran into you.”

Y/N couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “The idea of just telling them I was your fake girlfriend just fell into your head once you saw me?”

Harry chuckled and shifted his gaze away from her, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah. I never do stuff like that. I hate uncertainty, so trusting you yesterday when I didn’t know if you’d play along… well, it took five years of my life.”

 She laughed. “If I hadn’t then the whole lie would’ve been obvious to Jessa and Grace.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help then,” Y/N said, really meaning it as well.

“Yeah, and thank you so much for doing so. It really helped me out… if you look away from Jasmine texting me five times today alone to organise a dinner with you and all of us.”

They both laughed a little at that and when Y/N glanced at Harry again, he was looking down at his hands in his lap. After a brief pause, he met her eyes again.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, and thank you for helping me. I’ll tell them everything now, I don’t want you to have to hide while you’re here for two months.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

For the next few seconds, they looked at one another in silence. Y/N thought back to the moment she’d seen Harry, how it might’ve taken her a few seconds to catch on, but her main instinct had been to help him. She thought of the gratitude on Harry’s face when she played along, how she hoped he one day would find an actual girlfriend that would have just as big of an impact on Jessa and Grace as it seemed she herself had. She was about to tell Harry this when the sound of footsteps sounded from the lobby again.

A woman Bessie’s age walked in, a bag slung over her shoulder and sunglasses in her short black hair. As she stepped inside, she spotted Harry and Y/N sitting together and her mouth fell open, a grin coming to rest on her wrinkling face.

“Bessie, you didn’t tell me these two were going to be here,” the old woman said, walking into the dining area. Bessie stepped out from behind the wall that hid the reception desk from the dining hall. At that, Y/N’s stomach dropped. Bessie must’ve heard their entire conversation. By the look on Harry’s face, he was going through a similar near-death experience to the one Y/N was currently enduring.

“Hi, Mrs Rose,” Harry said, no one seemed to notice the slight tremor to his voice.

“Harry and his new girlfriend,” Mrs Rose said, looking between them. “You know, you lot are the talk of the town.”

“We are?” Harry asked, the surprise in his voice so evident it made the older women laugh.

“Yes, of course! Jasmine told everyone!” Mrs Rose continued, looking to Bessie who was already nodding her head.

“Not everyone, but she told her friends, and you know how people like to gossip around here, don’t you, Harry?” Bessie gave him a smile and Harry smiled back, though it did not reach his eyes. “Anyway, Florence, this is Y/N. Y/N, Florence.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Y/N said, grinning at Florence who stuck her hand out. The two shook hands as Florence beamed back at Y/N. “So, the whole town knows?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case,” Florence said, turning to Bessie who made a noise of agreement. “Jessa can talk about everything and anything for hours, but if her stepson gets a girlfriend? That’s the news of the century and she will not shut up.”

“How lovely,” Y/N said, not really knowing what else was appropriate in this setting as Harry hadn’t opened his mouth once to say anything.

“It’s a little less lonesome up in that lighthouse now, hm?”

“Oh, uhm…” Harry looked at Y/N and then back at Florence, his words having completely escaped him. Y/N was about to come to Harry’s rescue when Bessie took them both by surprise.

“They stayed here tonight,” Bessie explained and Florence looked at her with a furrow between her brows.

“Why on earth would they do that? Harry’s got a perfectly nice place by the lighthouse.”

“Who are we to question the decisions of our youth?” Bessie linked arms with Florence. “Let’s go outside, Flo dear. Leave the lovebirds to be by themselves.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Rose,” Y/N called after them.

“And you, Y/N!”

The second the two ladies were out of sight, Harry and Y/N shared a wide-eyed look, both of their panic equal it seemed. Y/N took a sip of her juice, somehow thinking it would calm her down. It did not.

“Jasmine told everyone,” Harry said, voice a whisper so no one walking by or sitting in the back garden would hear them. “She told everyone.”

“She can’t have… right?”

“You underestimate Jessa. If she was kidnapped and put in a gag, she’d be able to talk through it and move her jaw and teeth in a way that would obliterate said gag.” Harry ran a hand over his face. “She’s very chatty.”

“You’ve painted a vivid picture.”

Harry sighed, leg bouncing and eyes distant as he seemed to be racking his brain for a solution to the situation they were finding themselves in. “I was gonna tell Jessa it was a lie. I was gonna tell-“

“-You still can.”

“But everyone knows now. It’ll be well embarrassing for us when we have to tell people on the street that ‘oh yeah, that ol’ thing, we only pretended to be a couple so people wouldn’t be all up in Harry’s business,’ I somehow don’t see that going down well.”

“Then there’s only one thing we can do?”

“What’s that?”

“We pretend to be a couple.”

He stared at her, his facial expression very neutral, and though Y/N didn’t know him well enough yet, she did think she could decipher when he was displeased and when he was not. He seemed to be mulling it over, wanting for her to elaborate before he made a final decision.

“Everyone knows, I’m leaving in August, we can just say we broke up when August comes around.”

Harry nodded, thinking for a moment before he asked, “What will people say when they see us separated on the street then? Like, we’re not seen together.”

“People need to spend some time apart; it’s exhausting to be around another person 24/7.”

Harry nodded again, contemplating their predicament. “There’s always a lot of parties around here during summer. You don’t have to tag along, but you might have to if Jessa’s gonna be there.”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N admitted, shrugging her shoulders some. “I don’t have anything to do all summer, anyway. Might as well be in a fake relationship with a bloke I barely know and help him all I can.”

This made a breathy chuckle leave Harry’s lips and he held her gaze some before having it fall to his folded hands. “Well…” he said, suddenly reaching his hand across the table. “I’m Harry Edward Styles.”

Y/N laughed but took Harry’s hand, shaking it lightly. “Pleased to meet you, Harry. I’m Y/N Bernadette Angelica McKay.”

Harry whistled under his breath. “Mouthful.”

“What happens when you’re brought up in a posh family.”

Harry smiled at that and sat back in his chair. “I guess… I-I guess we should talk about how we got together and all that.”

“Yeah, make a story so it sounds more believable.”

“It’ll help if we have the same story, yes.”

She couldn’t help her laughter again, but it was cut short as Harry’s phone in his pocket started ringing. He sighed, taking it out and looking at it before putting it back down.

“Look, I gotta go.”

“Oh.” Y/N, having thought they were going to plan their fake dating history, blinked in confusion when Harry stood from his chair and looked at her apologetically. “We’ll see each other at some point.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, walking off toward the back garden, calling Bessie’s name as he did. They exchanged some words Y/N couldn’t hear and Harry disappeared into the kitchen for a minute before resurfacing again. Standing in the lobby, he looked at Y/N through the doorway leading into the dining area, mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with something to say.

She just gave him a smile, hoping he understood that she just wanted him to take his time. It took one more sigh and a little staring contest before Harry finally found his words.

“You know where to find me, my house is the very tall, pointy one on the outskirts of town.”

She chuckled, watching as he walked out of the front door and down the street. Y/N found her bag, putting it on her shoulder as she got her lunch tray and sat it in the kitchen as she’d done after her breakfast that morning. On her way upstairs, Y/N turned as she reached the front door that was left open to welcome guests. Stepping into the doorway, she looked out over St Ives.

Seagulls were still screaming overhead, the sound of people down by the beach hung in the air all throughout the day, it smelled of seafood and summer, and just beyond the small town, on a tiny hilltop and on the very tip of a cliff, stood a lighthouse. A white lighthouse that rose high above the whole coast around it, protecting everyone. Locals, foreigners, and sailors. And it was operated and taken care of by the bloke Y/N was going to spend her entire summer in a fake relationship with. It didn’t seem real, and yet, that was exactly what it was. She didn’t have Harry’s number and knew next to nothing about him, but – as he put it – he lived in the very tall, pointy house on the outskirts of town. It was impossible to miss it. She could find her way to him, even in the dark.

The lighthouse keeper, Y/N thought to herself as she took in the lighthouse again through the window of her room once she walked upstairs. I have to pretend to be in love with a lighthouse keeper. And somehow, Y/N realised when looking back on that particular summer, that wasn’t the weirdest thing that would happen to her in St Ives.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 2 August, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic​ 🌊 @bopbopstyles​ 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh​ 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @honeydearly 🌊 @juliassgem​ 🌊 @summerfeelng​ 🌊 @sunflower--styles 🌊 @withallthelove-a​ 🌊

[wickedpact]

You can't just drop that "I read Forces Multiplied" bomb on us and not give a ten page written reaction.

[cracks knuckles] if u insist

nicky cant drive hc: destroyed. rip. also i loved how andy and nile stole those sports cars and were being badass and driving off the bridge & meanwhile joe and nicky were just absolutely vibing in the van

'heres the thing about power: people who have it think they deserve it' [shot of police car] i see u greg

5 whole panels being dedicated to booker not being able to unlock his door. booker not even seeing noriko sitting RIGHT THERE in the window at first. incredible

noriko being 24/7 horny was surprising. like wow all of the stuff i saw she did out of context was 100% equally horny in context as it was out of context. love that for her

i didnt think the 'andy + slavery' thing was handled as badly as everyone made it out to be when telling me about it. tho from the way it was talked about i had kind of figured the conflict between andy and nile re: slavery would be really racially charged (esp considering nile is a black american and would obvs have Thoughts on the subject in that regard) but like,, done in a cringey 'a-white-guy-obviously-wrote-it' kind of way? but it wasnt that. i mean. it makes sense that andy would be implicit in slavery through the years

i mean, like she says, is that not what people just did to each other in the aftermath of battles for thousands of years? and i really like how its pointed out that it was what she was raised with (in the beginning when you see her put shackles on that guy after the battle) but she also accepts responsibility for it and acknowledges that it was wrong and not just 'what people did'.

i like how from her expressions you can kind of tell baby andy knew it was off but she sets those feelings aside bc she felt angry. it explains how she felt but didnt make her out to be blameless in it. plus i mean. i dont know, the fact that andy was involved in a lot of morally shady stuff for 7000 years is not that wild for me. if you live that long youre just Going to be involved in some shit, and she didnt even have other immortals with her as positive community influences, she literally just did whatever the fuck she wanted for thousands of years

'i was worshipped as a god once' i mean, yeah no shit she wouldve been involved in some seriously fucked up stuff, gods were fucking scary back in the day

tldr it could use some polish but it wasnt that bad

tho everything people said about moose being boring was unfortunately a little true. sorry king i tried to be interested in you

joe and nicky writing verbal fanfiction about nile and moose was iconic. 'you seeing that?' 'i am definitely seeing that'

it was also extremely funny bc that was like 60% of their contribution to the whole comic, besides kidnapping copley. they came, they wrote some fanfic, they left. kings. at least in tog1 they had an excuse to be useless bc they got kidnapped

joe just found out his old friend who he thought was dead is alive (and also probably wants to murder them) and instead of investigating with andy he stopped to help nile up. champ.

nicky shooting noriko through andy was cool. rip to the concept since it wont happen in tog2

wanna see mr ejiofor deliver this line

on that note imo copley was. weirdly enough, more interesting in fm than in tog1. to me at least. the fact that andy let him live and he was so haunted by what had happened that he came back and sought them out despite knowing they would likely kill him for it bc he wanted to not only make up for what hed done but also to tell them what theyd done for the world was admittedly more interesting than andy just kind of drafting him to the cause and him going 'okie'

i like how nicky was drawn in this one. in opening fire he looks like a blob man but in fm he looks more like a very nice grampa with a very good dye job

'theres no pain like a broken heart' andy 🥺

noriko implying andy's never drowned. .. .idk about that one, she musta drowned sometime

joe and nicky came, they waxed poetic about nile's love life, they waxed poetic about grog, and then they left.

sports bras being a reason humanity is good. i mean..... okay, yeah.

i mean. wild but you cant exactly tell her shes wrong

i liked how noriko telling andy that their purpose is to make people suffer coincides with joe and nicky finding out that they actually did good all those years

joenicky in opening fire: jail for booker jail for booker for 100 years

joenicky when copley tells them he knows where booker is: WE'LL KILL YOU WHERE IS HE

joenicky when copley comes back: if your vibes come off as even remotely rancid we Will destroy you

joenicky 2 minutes later when copley helped them find booker: he made up some ground :)))) <3 lov you j cops

theyre forgiving af

moose: how old are you?? a hundred??? a thousand???

nile [vine voice]: I M 2 7 ?

alright andy you got me there

joe texts like my aunt

i dont know why noriko drowning andy in that car tickled me. Bad And Naughty Andromaches Get Put In The Pear Wiggler To Atone For Their Crimes.

the drowning sequence was cool

copley trying to talk to andy while she was like o_o at him was great

ive hit the picture limit but id seen that panel where nicky goes 'forgive me' as he kills a guy out of context and it was HILARIOUSLY anticlimactic for me to discover that there was literally no context to it. nicky just apologizes to random people he kills. i thought that guy was someone he knew or something. nope its just Some Guy that nicky didnt know from adam

nile's complaint that andy was especially brutal to the guys on the boat... i mean. . , how exactly does one kill a man with an axe and not be brutal about it?

it was funny how noriko kissed andy and the only people who seemed surprised by that were nile and also andy

nicky and joe's complete non-reaction to finding out noriko is alive And Evil Now is endlesly funny. they just left her on that boat and neither cared. i get book and nile not caring but joe and nicky knew her, and they just have 0 input on the subject of what to do with her

pinstripe suit guy!

joe and nicky and booker packing up and leaving with nile

andy blowing up at nile was A Moment tho

i dont know, i get why people didnt like the ending but its. .. . it makes more sense in the comicverse. bc the squad doesnt really. .. interact outside of jobs? i mean, think of the moon landing story in ttt. that was booker and joe and nicky doing a job and andy only showed up a for a couple minutes after it was done. or the brunch in the first issue of opening fire. the squad arent as tight in the comic, and andy often seems to do her own thing outside of work, so andy saying 'i dont want to do work anymore' and the squad being like 'alright bye then' makes more sense in this universe than the movie one

also i feel like greg was Trying to set up a thing where nile becomes the Leader of The Squad after andy dies but like. its not very well done since. . . i mean, nile hasnt spoken to booker since opening fire, (and she only knew him A Day). and shes known joe and nicky all that time, but there isnt really anything that indicates that they have any relationship at all, much less one that's grown. in all the comicverse the only time nile and nicky speak is in FM, and in that scene nicky tells nile about noriko. nile goes from someone who needs to be set aside to have background knowledge explained to her to being the Leader of the group with nothing in between. it kind of... comes out of nowhere.

on the other hand tho... i felt really bad for andy thru the whole thing. well, i always felt bad for andy, but in this one she seemed so miserable, especially since it really felt like none of the others actually.... cared about her. when noriko came back no one asked andy how she was doing (big question ik, but it wouldve showed they cared at least), nobody ever expressed any concern for her, no one even really seemed to want to be around her. in opening fire everyone was more distant than in the movie of course, but there were little moments where she would joke with joe, or nicky would try and comfort her, or stuff like that, but in FM it really felt like they just didnt really care about her. & in opening fire it felt a lot like andy's relationship with nile breathed some new life into her, but in FM it felt like all they did was argue. i get theyre not *as* close in the comics but it really felt like the only person who cared about andy at all was noriko (which was probably also how andy felt) but it just seemed to come out of nowhere. honestly i was reading and i was honestly agreeing with andy that she might just be better off if she did just die. opening fire, on the other hand, never make me feel that way

tho everyone made it sound like when the squad split up it was one of those cursed 'the found family leaves each other at the end of the journey' tropes. but guys i mean,,, this is the second installment out of three. that isnt the End. theyll come back in the third one and Dramatically Reunite to fight some baddies (probably those 'others' noriko mentioned). im guessing yitzhak fits into that too somehow.

anyways it wasnt That Bad but it made me kind of sad and the only Sweet Found Family vibes in it were when they saved booker. also they shouldve beefed up that nilemoose romance, it underwhelmed me. 6.5/10

i also ABSOLUTELY understand all of greg's comments about how you couldnt make FM directly into a movie, he always said that it had no plot and. i get it now. it really didnt have a plot sdfghjkl

[eztria]

trollhunters: rott and overall toa thoughts

decided to write down what i think of the movie and the series as a whole after watching rott

toby domzalski

first of all, i am so unspeakably sad that toby remained a comedy relief character until it was time for him to die. i really hoped he would get his time to shine but not like this. the death scene was definitely amazingly done and im glad that at the very least rott had a scene that showed the audience just how important tody’s friendship was to jim.

on that note tho, im sad that no one seemed to realize that toby was gone??? it was only after jim realized what happened that he was the first to desperately search for him. i get that toby has the strongest ties to jim but??? claire??? AAARRRGGHH??? they were also close with toby but even after seeing him take the car they didnt immediately shift their focus to him after finding jim???

i really wished we got more serious moments with him through all the toa series. i feel like after trollhunters (although he was also a comic relief there, but id say there was more to him back then), he became the designated comic relief and it makes him such a 2-dimensional character.

jim lake jr

jim is one of my favorite protagonists ever in any show, so seeing him struggle through all the series was always an emotional rollercoaster. i appreciate what rott was going for, the “he doesnt need the armor/amulet, hes always been a hero” sentiment but... the movie gives him the amulet back in the same scene in which he says it. i was severely disappointed when it happened, im not gonna lie. the scene would have been way more impactful if jim defeated bellroc by himself when they were stripped out of magic, instead of suddenly getting a power-up and besting her in combat. if jim didnt get the amulet right then the message of “i always was a hero, with the amulet or without” would have actually hit way harder. we see jim struggle about being just human and lacking the power to hold his own ground in a fight through the whole movie and him suddenly besting bellroc with the amulet is just. underwhelming. i think he should have gotten the amulet after the fight, so we still could have the whole time travel shenanigans thing happen, but def not when he got it. 

and on the topic of the time travel, what the fuck did they do to jim. like????? hello????? this. in Not. the same jim lake jr who went into the darklands all by himself so his friends wouldnt get killed/hurt. this is Not the same jim who refused to burden his mother with what he had to deal with as a trollhunter. the fact that he makes a concious choice to have toby pick up the trollhunter amulet????? is so out of character for him???? especially since he experienced all the struggles, the hurt, the trauma himself. i Refuse to believe he would ever have his best friend relive the hell he has been through all those years. especially since only He has the knowledge of the past??? how does he think this is going to play out??

not to mention that, by having the amulet choose toby, it means that the whole fate/destiny aspect of jim being chosen is out of the window. i didnt like how much the series leaned into it already, because im not a fan of stories which support the concept of “destiny/fate” but that ending really just confirm that jim was never the chosen one, he was just lucky to get the amulet first, because it could have been literally anyone. and im not trying to say that toby would not be a great trollhunter himself, i just mean that if toby can also be chosen instead of jim, the whole speech about destiny is kind of a lie.

claire nuñez

this isn’t really a criticism about her character, but more of how she has been treated by the narrative. im glad that claire gets to do more in this movie and that she keeps an active role (despite being spent in critical points to prevent her from solving problems). i really wish claire was more than Just jims love interest once they got together tho. i wish she was first and foremost his friend instead of his girlfriend, although that might be just my personal pet peeve of narratives putting romantic relationships above platonic ones. i felt it was really a shame that her wish for jim was to “find her and try until she falls in love with him again”. like i get that it was a sweet scene and sentiment overall but all i could think of was shouldnt she be freaking out that her friends and family are possibly dead because of the destruction of the whole town??? she could have been helping people evacuate and then join the fight.

the steve palchuk problem

ive seen a lot of people talk about this, but yeah the mpreg plot was really unnecessary. its really weird and it made me very uncomfortable considering both aja and steve are like. supposedly 18? in rott. this whole plot point not only feels like it takes up time that could have been better spent, but it also kinda portrays aja as a really bad partner to steve. like. you’re telling me she never really told him how this works??? like, ignoring how stupid and arbitrary the 7th kiss thing is, considering that she knows how kissing works for humans, she Should have told him about the possible consequences of it. i get that she was on akiridion-5 but is there really no way for her to communicate with him, considering that krel stayed on earth??? i dont remember if there was any communication mentioned, but if it was, that makes aja even worse in this context, honestly. they did my girl so dirty.

(on a quick note tho, i do like how aja was reluctant to follow jim. she’s a queen now and her priority will always be the safety of people surrounding her so her sentiment of “you can do the risky thing But my ships are still showing up either way” was really nice and i actually liked that she kinda went against jim and questioned him.)

with the mpreg steve plotline also comes the fact that eli is barely in this movie. we literally only get to see him to see that he has a growth spurt and then to have him deliver the babies. i really wish we could have gotten more about eli himself, maybe see how his relationship with aja developed into a friendship??? or the good old eli-steve friendship after a long time of being apart.

anticlimactic deaths/losses

nomura’s death scene was so fast and we didn’t even really linger on its impact, which honestly was. really disappointing. strickler was also done really dirty by being killed off nearly immediately after the reveal of his engagement with barbara. at the very least we got a scene of the lakes mourning him.

nari’s death served a purpose. they sacrificed herself to kill skrael. i did like how much it impacted douxie, but after the deaths, the characters are not really mentioned again until the very end when jim decides to time travel.

archie being left behind felt kind of forced and i wish he stayed in the story if only so douxie didnt have to lose two people close to him on the same day. we also never mention him again which... okay.

this is the finale... where is everyone, what is happening

is barbara just stranded in the castle now??? where is nana?? the changeling babies??? notenrique and claire’s family??? the trolls from the troll market??? this whole movie just felt rushed, honestly. we never were told how barbara and strickler got to the castle and we never even got to witness them see jim in the human form for the first time too. i honestly think this movie should have just been a series. it has enough action to stretch it out and we could have had more scenes that were about finishing arcs for characters and lingering on the consequences of certain deaths. its not a bad movie in itself, but it does not feel like a proper finale to the toa series, especially with the last 5 minutes of rott. im kind of disappointed, but at the same time we p much got an open ending so everyone can go wild with their interpretations/speculations.

[dothwrites]

part vi of mafia!au 

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

COMPLETE

---

Recovery is slow and excruciating. 

Castiel’s body has never rebelled against him to this extent. His muscles refuse to do their damn jobs and function. He’s relegated to his bed for days on end, while being forced to endure Sam Winchester’s lurking and Gabriel’s overly effusive attempts to cheer him. 

All of those would be fine, except that he hasn’t seen the house’s other occupant, Dean Winchester, except in short glimpses, as though Dean is the rarest of all animals, only seen from a distance. 

Which is fucking bullshit, because he can hear Dean’s voice, echoing through the tiny confines of the house, after Dean thinks he’s asleep. Clearly, it’s not the concept of social interaction which Dean finds daunting, but rather, the concept of social interaction with him. 

It’s infuriating. 

It wouldn’t be as bad if he thought Dean’s avoidance was due to hatred or indifference. But even though he’d been fairly hazy that first morning, he’d seen how Dean’s whole face brightened, he’d felt the hard clutch of Dean’s fingers in his. The look on Dean’s face...Castiel doesn’t want to put a name to it, doesn’t dare try to define it, but he knows for sure that it wasn’t hatred or apathy. 

Which means Dean is staying away from him for some other reason and that...

That’s bullshit. 

So Castiel does what he’s been doing his entire life and pushes everything aside in favor of a single minded pursuit. This time, he pours all of himself into the mission to get his fucking body to do what it’s supposed to do. He starts with minuscule goals, such as getting out of bed and pacing around his room, but it’s still too much for some. 

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Gabriel asks, a little sourly, as he stands in the doorway of Castiel’s bedroom. 

“Are you sure you should be poking your nose into my business?” Castiel asks back. For all that Gabriel is the elder sibling, they’ve never been under any delusions as to who was actually suited for this business. Gabriel is too flighty, too interested in frivolous pursuits and the mundane workings of everyday life. It was always Castiel who could sink his teeth into a problem, who could take it apart, hold the bloody pieces in his hands, and see how they could be sewn back together into a new animal. 

“Whatever,” Gabriel concedes, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “On your own head be it.” 

Castiel sneers after Gabriel as he turns to leave. He’s just in time for Dean to poke his head out of his room. It would be comical, if it weren’t so infuriating, to see how quickly Dean’s eyes bulge and his face reddens. Castiel is afforded one swift glimpse before Dean retreats into the safety of his room, slamming the door closed behind him. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and starts another circuit around the room. 

---

His body might be stubborn but Castiel continues on his conquest of it. Soon, he’s walking laps around the house, followed by short jogs around the property. The safehouse is far enough in the country that, as long as he’s careful, he can exercise outside without garnering too much attention. 

The Winchesters and Gabriel watch him with varying degrees of concern. 

“I already told you, I’m fine,” Castiel grunts, massaging at his sore calves after a midnight run. “Besides, we can’t afford to stay here forever.” 

Judging from the shifty look on Gabriel’s face, this is not the first time someone has mentioned this fact. He also notes that his brother proposes no solution, which means that no one has either managed or bothered to come up with one. Typical. 

Castiel’s impatience and ire increases when he considers the reason they haven’t yet moved on. They’re waiting for him to recover, which is an unconscionable burden on his mind. Every minute they spend in this house, waiting for him to get his shit together, is another minute he’s putting them all in danger. 

Gabriel lingers in the doorway, saying nothing, yet watching Castiel with an intensity usually only reserved for cupcakes and candy. After a few moments it starts to grate on Castiel’s nerves, yet he waits until he’s fully done with his post-run routine to speak. “Something else you needed?” 

“When are you going to talk about it?” Gabriel asks, much too kindly for Castiel’s liking. 

“Talk about what? What do to next? I’d love to do that, if it were possible to get you, Sam, and Dean in the same room for longer than five minutes.” 

“When are you going to talk about Naomi?” 

Castiel’s blood freezes. 

“I might be an idiot, but I know enough. I know who Dad’s attack dogs are, and I know how they work.” Gabriel swallows, unwontedly serious. “I saw the marks, Cassie.” 

Castiel’s hand makes an aborted jerk to the crook of his elbow where the scars are still livid against his skin. He catches the movement before it has a chance to amount to anything and forces his hand back down to his side. He can still feel the phantom ache of needles pushing into his skin, still remember how it felt when the road forked and reality went one way while his brain went another. 

He hasn’t told anyone, but sometimes, he’ll catch movement out of the corner of his eye, turn, and find nothing there. He tries to tell himself that this happens to everyone, that he’s fine, that he’s normal, but there’s always the insidious creeping fear down his spine--What if he’s losing it? What if Naomi fucked him up permanently? 

What if he’s never the same? 

If he doesn’t have his mind, if he doesn’t have his body, then he’s useless. He can’t protect anyone. He has nothing to offer. 

“I’m fine,” Castiel croaks, once he realizes Gabriel is still waiting for an answer. 

One eyebrow ticks upwards. “Yeah, once more until I actually believe you.”

“I already said that I’m fine. I don’t know what else you want.” 

Gabriel throws his arm wide. “For you to stop trying to run yourself into the ground? For you to stay in a room longer than ten minutes? For you to acknowledge that you maybe have an actual problem?”

Castiel sniffs, retreating into haughtiness to hide his hurt and anxiety. “Well, I’m sorry if I choose to concentrate on more important things, like trying to get well enough to protect us all.”

Gabriel gapes at him. “To protect...” He looks over his shoulder, like he expects to find the Winchesters supporting him. Upon finding no one there, he turns back to Castiel. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Dean and I are fairly good at what we do. Even the stringbean can hit the broad side of a barn. We’re fine.” 

The deliberate inflection of his voice suggests that Castiel is somehow not lumped into the general category of ‘fine’. 

“Fuck off,” Castiel growls, as a more appropriate comeback fails to materialize. He storms past his brother, hitting him in the shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom. Gabriel doesn’t try to stop him, but Castiel knows he’s still watching. 

Some of his righteous rage is lost when he looks down the length of the hallway and finds Dean standing at the opposite end. He spares a single, startled look at Castiel before he scampers back towards the living room. Castiel’s temper worsens at the sight of Dean’s retreating back. 

Dean is a confirmed killer, a man who’s known the feel of a gun in his hand since he could walk. He’s seen Dean in action and admired his skills and ruthlessness. Now he’s watching the same man running scared. Castiel can’t think of anything more pathetic or more frustrating. 

Now in a profoundly foul mood, Castiel slams the bathroom door shut. The sound echoes through the house. He twists the knob of the creaky shower, turning the heat all the way up so that steam billows throughout the room. He steps underneath the spray, ignoring the tendrils of pain licking across his body, his tender, scarred skin protesting the rough treatment. 

He pushes away the ever present nip of worry (what if Gabriel’s right, what if he’s weak, what if he’s broken beyond repair) and scrubs at his skin until tiny pinpricks of blood well up, and then he scrubs some more. 

---

Matters come to a head a few days later. 

No longer content with pushing his body through runs, Castiel’s taken to shadow boxing in the house’s basement. He dances around the dank, mildewy space in his bare feet, tossing punches and kicks at imaginary enemies. His muscles scream at the exercise and threaten to collapse and tear, but he pushes on anyway. 

His thoughts are spiraling ever downward, dovetailing with his exhaustion. Castiel’s so lost within their grip that the opening of the basement door escapes his attention. Even the weary creak of the step doesn’t catch his attention. He’s formed bad habits in his convalescence. In his world, such laziness gets people killed. 

When he catches sight of Dean standing at the foot of the stairs, he jumps in surprise. Embarrassment flushes his cheeks red, and he hides his shame with snippiness. “Did you need something?” 

Castiel paces around the basement, grabbing a bottle of water, just to give his hands something to do. He tries to unscrew the top but gives up after two tries. He doesn’t want Dean to see how badly his hands are trembling. 

“You know that we’ve got your back, right?” Dean finally says. Castiel stops pacing. He wasn’t expecting that. 

Despite his surprise, he recovers quickly. “Coming from a Winchester, that isn’t exactly inspiring,” he sneers. 

Dean doesn’t try to hide his flinch. Castiel feels an irrational stab of guilt at that. “I just thought you should hear it from someone who wasn’t your brother,” he says, already turning to go back up the stairs. “But you have all three of us. Him, Sam.” Dean pauses for a second. “Me.” He continues on quickly, like he wants Castiel to forget about the slight emphasis he put on himself. “Anyway, you don’t have to do this every day. Take a day off before you kill yourself.” 

Castiel’s upper lip lifts reflexively. So, Dean’s joined forces with Gabriel. Next, he supposes Sam Winchester will find him and urge him to talk about it, you’ll feel better if you get it all out in the open. 

“Stay,” he says, brain running ahead of his common sense. Dean pauses, his foot already on the step. “It’s no good shadow boxing. I need a partner.” 

Dean wants to argue. Castiel can tell by his hesitation, the twitch of his fingers, the way he closes his mouth on whatever he was going to say. Castiel waits, head cocked to the side. He doesn’t quite smile in victory when Dean makes his decision, but he must give off the impression of it, as Dean’s expression darkens. 

“You know this isn’t doing you any good,” Dean says, as he sheds his flannel overshirt. The fabric has barely hit the floor before Castiel is on him, swinging at his head in a wild, haymaker punch. Dean blocks him easily, but the suddenness of the attack surprises him, as he lurches backward. 

“What the hell?” he spits, a mixture of fury and worry spread across his face. 

Castiel dances back, shifting his weight between the balls of his feet. His fists are held up close to his jaw, elbows tucked in close to his sides to protect his ribs. Within seconds, Dean copies his movements, but with slight differences. Castiel keeps himself contained, taut, muscles coiled in a defensive posture. Dean is looser, his left hand lazily extended, though Castiel doesn’t fall for the trap. That left hand can just as easily block blows as it can land a stinging jab. 

When it comes to Dean Winchester, there are dozens of traps, and Castiel seems to have fallen into all of them. 

They spend several long minutes circling each other, exchanging tentative jabs in a dance of blocks and dodges. They learn what blows the other considers threatening and what the other will shake off. 

Castiel changes the tempo when he aims a low kick at Dean’s hip. Dean twists out of the way, but when he turns back to Castiel, something in his face has changed. His eyes have hardened, his fingers curled purposefully into his palm. Castiel understands. Dean was just passing the time earlier, indulging his whimsy. For whatever reason, now he’s made up his mind to act. 

“You need to take it easy,” Dean tells him. He moves easily into Castiel’s space, each motion screaming aggression. He bats away Castiel’s jab; Castiel blocks Dean’s punch. They fall apart, sharp eyes raking over the other in a search for weaknesses. 

“You need to mind your own business,” Castiel replies. He has to concentrate on speaking; already he’s a little short of breath, though he’d rather chew off his own fingernails rather than admit that to Dean. “What I do is none of your concern.” 

Dean falters at that. His defenses lower, which allows Castiel to dart in, landing several snap punches to Dean’s ribs before Dean regains himself and forces him back. Something dangerous flashes in the depths of Dean’s eyes, and a vicious satisfaction rises in Castiel’s chest. This is what he wanted, this is the Dean Winchester that he--

The thought hits him, unbidden and unwelcome, and Castiel freezes. His inattention gives Dean the opening he needs. Where Castiel fights with precision and accuracy, Dean favors overwhelming force. It’s a strategy which works well for him and he uses it to devastating effect, foregoing fancy footwork and devious punches for a simple, unavoidable attack. Dean puts his head down and charges, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist in an attempt to throw him to the ground. 

It’s a perfect storm: His muscles, still not where they were before, falter. His balance, another casualty of Naomi’s untender mercies, isn’t enough to save him from catching his heel against an irregularity on the cheap mat he’s laid out. Dean is a hurricane, a typhoon, and underneath his onslaught, Castiel tumbles backward. 

Castiel’s back hits the ground, hard enough to knock the breath out of him. His head slams into the ground, and his vision spins for several, vital seconds. By the time he regains his equilibrium, Dean is already atop him, knees clamping in hard against his ribs. One of Dean’s hands wraps around his throat, fingers flexing in warning. 

“Enough,” Dean says tightly. “Whatever you’re trying to prove, enough. We get it, all right? You’re a big badass who doesn’t need anyone. We get it.” 

If he weren’t staring so closely at Dean’s face, then Castiel would miss his quick flash of emotion. As it is, it’s there and gone before he has a chance to really examine it, but for the moment, it’s enough to know that it exists. 

Castiel slumps back onto the floor, allowing his exhausted muscles a moment’s respite. Dean, ever cautious, doesn’t relent. Smart man. Ruthless. Focused. He’s a killer, Dean Winchester, and whatever is broken in Castiel’s brain is drawn to that part of him, just as much as it’s drawn to the well-hidden, softer aspects of him, like his obvious affection for his brother and his insistence on protecting civilians. 

But for all of his admirable qualities, Dean Winchester is still just a man. Castiel tips his head back, baring the vulnerable stretch of his throat to Dean’s gaze. It’s a deliberately submissive gesture, one designed to draw the eyes. He feels the exact moment Dean loosens his grip, distracted, and it’s that moment that Castiel acts. 

He bucks his hips up in a single, sharp motion, while striking out at Dean’s elbow. With his support gone, Dean buckles. While there are countless activities which Castiel could imagine partaking in with Dean slumped overtop him, he’s not interested in any of them. Instead, he uses Dean’s momentum against him, rolling them until their positions are neatly reversed. 

Dean snarls and curses, but Castiel has him pinned, much more securely than Dean did him. His knees presses down on Dean’s right wrist, immobilizing his strongest arm. Castiel leans forward. With his superior position, he doesn’t need to hold back his panting, doesn’t need to feel ashamed for the several beads of sweat which slip down from his forehead to the tip of his nose, to fall upon Dean’s throat. 

“I don’t need your permission to do anything,” Castiel says, once he thinks he can speak without wheezing through a sentence. “I’m not weak, I’m not broken, I’m not whatever else you three think I am. I’m fine.” Before he can stop himself, the words come tumbling out, the ones which he’d meant to keep close to his chest. “So you can stop running from me, or whatever it is that you’ve been doing. I’m fine.” 

Emotion twists across Dean’s face again, and this time, Castiel is in a position to examine it. Surprisingly, when he’s forced to put a name to it, the definition he comes up with is guilt. He tilts his head to the side in confusion, only realizing after he sits back on Dean’s stomach that he’s left himself vulnerable to an attack. 

Dean doesn’t take the opening. He lays passively underneath Castiel and doesn’t try to squirm away, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t do anything. If Castiel had to guess, then he would say that Dean enjoys being there. Or at least, he would if he could get that awful, hangdog look off his face. 

“What is it?” he asks. There’s something there, writhing underneath the surface of Dean’s expression, something that probably shouldn’t see the surface but it has to. 

Dean turns his head away. It’s a childish move, one that irritates Castiel, as it’s an extension of what Dean’s been doing for days. He’s avoiding Castiel, running from him, which is infuriating. Dean Winchester is many things, but a coward, he is not. 

“Answer me.” He takes Dean’s jaw in his hand and forces Dean to meet his eyes. He stares at Dean, the same stare guaranteed to make hardened criminals think twice and civilians piss their pants. 

It makes Dean blink, but it’s enough. That blink starts an avalanche, and eventually, Dean’s whole face crumples. He blinks, hard and fast, green flickering in and out of existence. 

“It was my fault.” Dean’s voice comes out as a tortured whisper. Castiel holds Dean’s jaw prisoner between his fingers, now allowing Dean to turn away. At first, Dean jerks against the restricting hold, but once the first wall crumbles, all the rest fall quickly, and Dean stares him down. 

“What was your fault?” Castiel asks, when no more information is forthcoming. 

For a moment, he thinks Dean will pull away, but Dean surprises him. It’s obvious that he’s struggling with his admission, but it comes. Haltingly, in little fits, but it comes. 

“If it hadn’t been for me...Fuck, Cas, are you going to make me say it? If it weren’t for me, then you would be fine. You’d be with your family, head of the family, and you’d be...” Dean forces a swallow. His eyes perform a swift sweep of Castiel’s figure, down to his chest, where the scars still linger. 

“It fucking killed me to see you like that.” Dean’s hand rises and Castiel doesn’t move to stop him, not even when Dean’s fingers sneak underneath the hem of his shirt to stroke against his skin. His breath catches as Dean’s calloused fingertips catch against the scabbed edges of his wounds. Every instinct screams for him to move, to run, to flee, but he forces his muscles to inaction and allows Dean to explore him through touch. “God, Cas...You were...” 

Dean looks up at him. His expression is naked and raw. Castiel feels exposed just witnessing it. “You’re a fucking force of nature,” Dean whispers, pressing his palm flat against the quivering skin of his belly. “You’re a goddamn hurricane, and...” 

When he stares at Dean, Castiel sees an unfathomable, looming wave rising in his eyes, the same wave which he feels swelling in his own chest. He leans forward, and Dean’s hand slides from his stomach to his back. The skin there is marred as well, and he gasps softly as Dean’s thumb strokes over a particularly deep wound. 

“It was my choice,” Castiel whispers. He’s hovering low over Dean, their chests almost brushing. He’s close enough that if he wanted, he could count the freckles dotted across the bridge of Dean’s nose. Dean blinks. From his vantage point, Castiel can appreciate the thick curtain of golden lashes fanning across his cheek. 

“I made the call, not you. I knew what had to be done, and I did it. You think I could have been happy there, knowing you were dead? That I’d had a chance to stop it and did nothing? Every second was worth it because that was another second you were safe. I made the choice, and I’d make it again, in a heartbeat. Don’t take that from me.” 

“Goddammit, Cas,” Dean breathes. His hand is heavy against Castiel’s spine, but for once, Castiel doesn’t bristle at the restraint. “I’m not worth that.” 

Castiel’s mouth is not made for smiling. In fact, sometimes he thinks he’s forgotten the knack of it. But around Dean, his face moves easier. An actual smile, not the sarcastic, threatening expression he usually plasters on his face when he feels like intimidating someone, tugs at the corners of his lips. 

“Lucky for both of us, you don’t get to make the decisions,” Castiel whispers. 

He’s not sure which of them moves first. Either way, the end result is the same. His lips crash into Dean’s and Dean receives him with a low moan of delight, his mouth opening automatically. Castiel cards his fingers through Dean’s short hair, tugging at the strands as he maps out the interior of Dean’s mouth. 

The first time he kissed Dean, he’d been selfish. He’d been standing on the edge of his darkest moment, and he’d wanted something golden to take with him, something to hold through the horror. The second time he kissed Dean, he’d been half out of his mind, clinging to the barest hint of reality. He hadn’t even realized Dean was kissing him until it was over. 

This time...

The third time he kisses Dean, Castiel takes his time. 

---

The atmosphere in the house relaxes. 

Castiel stops pushing himself quite so much, and his muscles, glad for the reprieve, begin working as they should. Day by day, his strength increases, and Castiel takes full advantage of this. 

Dean enjoys being pinned and Castiel aims to please. 

The four of them hold contests--who is the quickest draw, who’s the best shot, who has the best accuracy with knives. Sam Winchester, it turns out, is a damn good shot, especially when Castiel considers his youth. 

The four of them work well together. Their personalities clash, sometimes terribly, but they also complement each other, pragmatism warring with emotion, brawn matching brains. Castiel laughs as he looks around the room, realizing that, for possibly the first time in his life, he’s comfortable. Amazing, that he can relax in a room with two Winchesters, but there it is. He trusts Sam and Dean, more than any member of his family, to watch his back. 

(No doubt Dean would throw in an off-color comment about being all too happy to watch Castiel’s back, but he chooses to ignore Dean’s rather childish sense of humor.)

The question naturally arises, as to their next move. 

“The smartest thing to do would be to split up.” It’s Castiel who says it, because it’s always Castiel who retreats to the fortress of cold logic. Three pairs of betrayed eyes stare him down. Castiel returns the stare. “It makes the most sense. There’s four of us; if we all split up, we’d stand a better chance of escaping. We could start over. Be whoever we wanted to be.” 

(Gabriel’s been fighting against the Novak name since he was old enough to know there was something to fight against. Sam Winchester has never wanted the mantle of the Winchester family; he’s dreamed of something else, something altruistic, far away from the dark cloud of John Winchester. Dean...All Dean knows is duty to his father, but Castiel already knows that he’d follow Sam wherever he went. And Castiel...well...He can always try to take back the Novak family. No doubt he’ll fail, but he’s a weapon, a hammer. He doesn’t know how to be anything else.)

“Fuck that,” Dean says, crude and succinct as always. “Your splitting up plan, not your be whoever we want to be plan.” 

Dean leans forward. His eyes lock onto Castiel’s. It’s as though they’re the only two people in the room. “Look at us. We wouldn’t have gotten you out if we hadn’t worked together. You wouldn’t have been able to get me out if we hadn’t worked together. You, me, Gabriel, Sam...we’re just better together.” 

Dean’s words touch something vulnerable in his chest, something Castiel has never bothered to acknowledge. What else was there for him, other than a life of violence? There was no room in the Novak family for love, no room for freedom. 

Dean makes him dream it’s possible. 

“They’ll look for us,” Castiel says, in a last ditch attempt at realism. “Not only the Novaks. The Winchesters too. They won’t like the idea that people are capable of defying them.” 

“So let them come.” It’s Sam’s voice, ringing clear from the table. He might have come to this house as a child, but he’s matured in the time since he’s been here. Castiel trusts him just as much as anyone else sitting at the table. “Dean’s right. If there’s four of us, then we stand a better shot. We’ll watch each other’s back.” 

“Careful there, Samsquatch,” Gabriel hums, his eyes dancing over the rim of his glass. “Your back is a little big to watch.” 

Sam shoots Gabriel a disparaging look and Castiel has to struggle to bite back his laugh. How could he dream of giving this up? These people are his friends, his...

His family. 

“So we go. We’ll go somewhere new, make our own destinies. Team Free Will.” Dean takes a drink from his glass. 

“Nifty title, but I think you’re leaving a few steps out,” Gabriel says. “I’m all in favor of Team Free Will, but exactly how are we going to make our way in the world?”

Gabriel’s eyes cut to Castiel. It’s Castiel who always has the answer, Castiel whose brutal logic always comes rushing forth at times like these. 

And this is the time for logic. Both the Novaks and the Winchesters have considerable financial resources, and they’ll stop at nothing to regain their lost sense of pride. If they’re found, then the best they can hope for is a quick death. Castiel might have tucked the majority of his finances away, but his funds won’t stretch nearly as far or as long as he’ll need them to. They’ll have to get jobs. Or else...

Maybe they could move to a different city and start their own family. Maybe, one day, they could come back here and take back what’s rightfully theirs. 

Castiel glances over at Dean. They could run this town. They could have it all. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel finally answers, ostensibly answering Gabriel, but never looking away from Dean. 

“I guess we’ll make it up as we go.” 

[tibby]

hi! lesbian questioning anon back with some more questions and needing advice. i got about 3 pages into the lesbian masterdoc before i started freaking out a little and i had to stop reading. i think i’m really scared about analyzing this part of myself because i’ve identified as bisexual for so long & ive never felt ... ashamed to express attraction to men (even though looking back and recalling those things, it felt hollow and fake; performative - even though i hardly had an audience). i don’t think being a lesbian is bad, but part of me is really really scared because 1.) what if i’m NOT a lesbian, i’m just going through an issue / phase / i’m traumatized from my last relationship and acting poorly about it ending? like, i don’t want to appropriate the label or invade a space like this as a (possible) non-lesbian!!! and stuff like 2.) if i’m a lesbian, why was i so free in talking about finding men hot? why was i so comfortable expressing how much i love Geralt (the witcher)??? why am i “”attracted”” do big strong - for lack of a better descriptor - alpha men?? and 3.) what if i come out, if it turns out i am a lesbian, and my lesbian friends think i’m faking it because i’ve talked about liking men before? i don’t know if i could cope with that rejection. anyways. i re-read your answer to my last ask several times. i do not think i could be happy with a man. but i thought everyone with IssuesTM (in my case i have ambiguous disorder lol - nah i just have lots of mental/development issues i don’t wanna list) just thought they were going to go through life bouncing from one toxic relationship to the next. my relationship with my ex wasn’t the healthiest, it was deeply co-dependent and i didn’t enjoy the sex at all. i thought maybe it was him (i guess this is still a possibility) or maybe that i’m asexual (it certainly felt like that, with how genuinely disinterested i’ve been with the concept of sex (adding: with men) all my life, so i have really no frame of reference) and i just kinda assume no one actually thinks they’re going to get a happy ever after. i think i would love to be with a woman, but i have no idea about the viability in that regard because i haven’t really had any long lasting bonds with other women. my best friends growing up were always boys, and i’ve always been intimidated by women, regardless of my attraction to them. i genuinely have no idea what a relationship with a woman would be like, but god i would like to have one! i feel like i would feel safer, more secure, more open with myself if there’s already a level of understanding between us. — anyways, thank you so much for enduring this with me so far. i cannot sufficiently express my gratitude for you allowing and accepting me vomiting anxieties all over your inbox. i appreciate all your thought-out responses and your empathy and kindness rn. it’s amazing and i wish i could repay you.

hello again! sorry for taking a few days to get back to you, i wanted to respond when i actually had time to sit down and type out a coherent reply.

to address your fears, working out your sexuality isn’t always an easy process and you’re not a bad person for wanting to try on different labels and see what works for you. you do not have to come up with an immediate answer now, and you’e allowed to switch between labels until you feel comfortable. if you identify as a lesbian for a little bit and then realise that you aren’t one, then that’s fine! it doesn’t mean you were invading lesbian spaces, it doesn’t mean you crossed any lines, it doesn’t mean you faked anything. and real friends would understand that and support you. if your lesbian friends think you’re lying about it or faking it, then they weren’t good friends to begin with. if that’s the case, i’m sorry, and it’ll hurt: but in the long run, you’d be better off without people who don’t support you.

and it’s not unusual for lesbians to find security and love - be it real or imagined - in men we think can protect us. that’s what we’re conditioned to what. and it can be hard to unlearn that. and as long as you’re secure in the knowledge that you don’t actually want to be with a man, i don’t think there’s anything wrong with expressing your attraction to one. as i’ve said before, i’m absolutely a lesbian and i know this about myself, but if shane madej asked...then yeah, i’d probably go for it. ultimately, it comes down to what you need and want.

what i’m about to say might be considered controversial to some, but i’ve never seen the issue with someone who’s had traumatic/unhealthy relationships with men in the past only wanting to date women from that point on, and therefore call themselves a lesbian. your relationships with men are in the past, and you shouldn’t feel forced to have them define your future. and sex is supposed to feel good, you’re meant to enjoy it. if you’re not enjoying the sex you have with a man, then that’s your body telling you something. maybe it’s lesbianism, maybe it’s asexuality, maybe it’s a mix of the two - but the issue, for now, seems to lie with men. i wouldn’t suggest rushing into having sex with women to see how that feels and give yourself a solid answer, but take some time to reflect on how you’d feel if you were to be sexual again, but with a woman this time. does it still put you off? can you happily picture everything (making out, cuddling) except the sex? do you think it would be more comfortable than your previous sexual experiences? give yourself as much time as you need to process everything. your safety and comfort are absolutely the priority, not finding a label to stick to.

if you think you’d enjoy dating a woman, that you’d be happy to be with one and feel safe and comfortable, then that’s a good place to start. i think there’s this weird idea in online lesbian/bi circles that once you figure out your sexuality, you immediately have to get out there and enter into a gay relationship, like you have something to prove. and i take a lot of issue with that, because i think a lot of times, it ends badly for both people. just sit with yourself for awhile, start building relationships with people around you, and a romance will come naturally. romances are never going to be strong if you force them, regardless of your sexuality, and it’s something you should only go into once you’re sure and ready. which all may seem like obvious things, but i’ve seen enough gays have horrible relationships to know that it isn’t. your sexuality should be about you, not about your love life.

i’m glad i’ve been able to help you somewhat so far, and i hope this response brings you further comfort and peace of mind. it means a lot to me that you feel like you can ask me about this stuff, and i do want the best for you. as always, feel free to come back if you need anything else. sending you love!

[morallygreyprompts]

BTHB 2.0 #11 Continuation

Previous Post Here 

Here you go! I hope you like what I’m able to come up with since a lot of people liked this idea.

Thief had returned the stolen items, but then they realised they were going to have to walk back to Hero's base, wherever that was. They didn't let go of their arm, keeping it tucked up against their body, safe from anything that could hurt it. They could feel the sheer heat radiating off their skin, searing pain, which the slightest movement could disturb and turn it into a white-hot blaze. Thief just wanted the money to be able to buy the medicine. To get rid of the pain. 

They felt tired and dizzy, but they followed Hero, avoiding the police that surrounded the shop Thief had tried to rob. Hero knew these streets well, and it was easy to get out of range, but Thief's fever wasn't getting any better, they'd been getting worse over the last few hours. They forced themselves to take deep breaths, to just keep their arm still. Hero would sort it. They just had to hold on.

"Let's hear it," Hero said. "What happened?"

Thief pursed their lips, they didn't really want to get into it. It had been a mistake, and it had hurt. "I'll need to know so I know what I'm up against."

"I… uh, I stole from [Villain], got caught. I was lucky I escaped with just this." Thief accidentally moved their arm and immediately regretted it. It was like carpet burn."Fuck!" They bent over, hissing badly, holding on tight to it. Thief let themselves slide down to the floor, hiding their head as they tried to force air into their lungs. They wanted to curl up and die. They just felt awful.

Hero crouched in front of them. "Easy, [Thief]." Hero put their hand against Thief's forehead and frowned. 

"You’re burning up, come on. I’m going to carry you."

"You most definitely are not."

"Yes, I am. You’re literally swaying when you're walking?"

Were they? "I would rather die than have you carry me. I still have my dignity."

"If you don’t let me, then that could very easily be arranged. Now shut up and hold still."

Thief accepted there was no point in arguing. Hero picked them up carefully, so Thief's sore arm was furthest away from them. Thief covered their face with their good hand, seeing and they were now being carried through the streets bridal style.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"I mean, technically, you became a thief."

"Jee… thanks. Never would have figured that out."

Hero smirked and carried them back as quickly and carefully as they could.

Thief didn't bother trying to remember the route. They were too tired. Their arm was still burning and that kept most of their attention. They were already tempted to dose, but they simply refused to stoop that low.

"Here we are… think you can walk in for me?"

"I could have walked the whole time," Thief grumbled. Hero lowered them down, and Thief nearly stumbled with dizziness. Hero guided them inside and sat them down in a chaise. Hero carefully took their shirt off, earning a handful of winces and hisses, and then the bandages. Thief groaned as Hero peeled them away and then helped them lie down,, keeping a hand on Thief's back to slowly lower them.

Thief huffed out a breath, their cheeks flushed. They felt awkward lying half-naked in front of their enemy. They weren't sure what they were meant to do with themselves. Their hand crept up to their wound. They could feel the heat radiating off it.

"You're an idiot," Hero said out of nowhere. "What the hell did you do to this?"

"I already told you?" Thief raised an eyebrow.

"You idiot! Look at the state of this. I'm going to have to keep you here for at least a week to make sure you're healing. Don't move, I'll be right back."

Thief could only lie there while Hero went to collect what they needed. They looked around as best they could, although all they were able to spot was an expensive-looking ornament on the table near their head. Thief reached up to take it. It would fit in their pocket easily.

"Put. It. Back," Hero called out.

Thief is stunned. "You're not even in the room! How did you-"

"I just know, you little shit, now put it back before I tie you to the table!"

With a smirk, Thief did so. Settling themselves, trying not to pay attention to their wounds. It hurt so bloody much.

Hero returned with what they needed on a tray, including an IV line.

"How do you just have this stuff?" Thief asked.

"For a rainy day, and right now it's pouring. Now hold still."

Hero was able to hang up the IV bag and slipped the needle into the Thief's good arm.  They hissed as Hero secured it. "You need the medicine going straight into your blood, so leave that in."

Thief nodded. They just wanted to sleep.

They cried out as Hero touched their shoulder and started cleaning the wound. Thief tried to get up but Hero was able to keep them steady. There were tears in their eyes and their breathing came in small gasps. It was so sore. They writhed and couldn't keep still. Hero gave them a break. "It's okay, there are painkillers in the IV. They should kick in really soon. Thief could already feel them taking effect. They were slowly able to relax.

But as the pain faded all they wanted was to sleep. They were so tired from days of being kept awake, and finally, the pain was going away. "Thanks," they mumbled to Hero. Hero smiled down at them. "Don't worry about it, try and stay awake a little longer, I need to ask you some questions- [Thief]?"

Too late. The idea of finally being able to sleep without pain was just too sweet a concept to wait for. They fell asleep while Herp set to work mending their shoulder

Like my stuff and want to support what I do? Then maybe consider buying me a Kofi? Ko-fi.com/morallygrey

[softtofustew]

an odyssey | afterword

rating: T

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin/Han Jisung

summary: Somewhere in the galaxy of the Stella Primum, Lieutenant Han is the best fighter on his team, a real ace shooter, with five gold stars to show. Too bad Second Lieutenant Hwang is not only great at battling the Ordinem, he’s also got disgustingly perfect looks to match, and now Jisung’s stuck in the same spaceship with him for possibly the most impossible task of their lives. Or the one where a rivalry is brewed across the skies and stars, until Jisung realises what there is to flying beside Hyunjin on a mission to save the galaxy.

if you haven’t read it yet, read here.

this is an afterword to ‘an odyssey’, where i write about the origin of the story, the characters, and my struggles of writing :’)

(i) The Origin

I’ve had this work in my WIPs since, believe it or not, January of this year. I’ve had this idea for so, so long. I wrote it intermittently throughout this year, with a scene or two in September, then October. 

Due to my exams, though, I couldn’t write as much as I wanted to. That’s why I only really started writing ‘an odyssey’ back in mid-November. The good thing was that I had more time to plan this out, because frankly, this is perhaps the heaviest fic I’ve written in terms of plot so far. 

I can’t for the life of me remember where this story idea planted itself in my head. All I knew was that I like space AUs, I adore Hyunjin and Jisung’s friendship, and I love enemies to lovers. Realising there weren’t any fics out there that combined the three, I knew it was my time to shine. Or something. 

(ii) The Plot

The plot was the trickiest to pull off. I’ve written an urban fantasy here and there, but I’m pretty sure if I reread them thoroughly, I’m bound to find a couple of plot holes. 

There were a lot of elements to cover: the Prophecy. The five gems. The push-pull relationship between Jisung and Hyunjin. The journey to discovering the whereabouts of the last Gemma. The last boss fight with a Governor who could wield the Force. There was!!!! So!!!! Much!!!! Going!!!! On!!!!!

Perhaps if I reread ‘an odyssey’, I might find another plot hole or two; who knows? For now, though, I feel quite contented with this work of mine. Considering it’s my first time writing something as long as this (50K+ are you kidding me?), I feel this is a first step for me to continue expanding my horizons when it comes to writing, to continue to challenge myself to write something different, something bold. Something new.

(iii) The Characters

I rewatched the Two Kids Room and One Kid Room episodes so many times, over and over again. There’s a reason why this story is centred around Jisung and Hyunjin, and why it’s written from Jisung’s perspective.

Their relationship is, after all, something coherently interesting. They really said “enemies to friends but make it irl”. I guess I took that concept and sort of exaggerated the extent of their ‘hate’ for each other, which isn’t exactly hate to begin with. The further you read on, the more you’ll realise that they don’t exactly hate each other — they just got off on the wrong footing, and have never tried turning back to start over once more.

It’s written from Jisung’s perspective because personally, I wanted the story to be told from the eyes of someone who was prideful, who was eager and determined, and who wanted to show his worth to everyone else. I feel like perhaps I didn’t expand on characterising Jisung to the fullest advantage possible, though, which remains a slight regret of mine. 

Another reason why I wanted this to be written from Jisung’s POV is because we can find out how Jisung feels about Hyunjin throughout the story. When he realises whose son Hyunjin is, he’s torn between wanting to pity Hyunjin and keeping things between them the same as they always have. (If I were in his position, though, I don’t know what I would have done lol.) It was hard to try and interpret his emotions, but there’s that.

Someone commented once asking if we’d ever get Hyunjin’s POV. Sadly, one of my biggest turn-offs is the switching of POVs in stories when it’s not entirely necessary haha. As much as I would want to know what Hyunjin is thinking when they’re arguing, or when they’re fighting, I like to keep on the suspension line. It gives you the feeling of immersing yourself as the Jisung in the story, of only seeing things from one perspective. 

As for the other characters, there wasn’t enough time to expand on all of them (for example, I mentioned Seungmin several times throughout the story, but really, he speaks only once haha). And as your fellow StayDay, it was definitely fun for me to include a few members of Day6. (please don’t ask me why I thought of ‘PJ and Honey’ while writing. I was probably hungry.)

I don’t know if I’ll continue to expand on the characters in this same universe, but it would be fun to think of the other relationships, for example Chan and Felix, or Changbin with Minho and Seungmin. (someone please save the seungbinho tag!!!!!!)

As far as characterisation goes, I’ve still got so much to learn. For now, though, I hope you enjoyed the dynamics between the characters and how Jisung and Hyunjin learnt to grow within a span of six chapters.

(iv) The Writing Process

Granted, the writing bit was a little easier in the beginning, but as I delved myself deeper into the story, I found it harder and harder to express the emotions I wanted to deliver in the story. One of the hardest chapters for me to write by far was the last chapter. I wrote two versions of the last chapter, simply because I felt the first version was too lacklustre for the ending of such a long story haha.

I had a clear outline of my story, but I did end up extending it from the initial 5 chapters to 6. For the first time, though, I didn’t add any random elements to the story, unlike how i wrote this story last year haha. The lesson I’ve learnt is that I should ALWAYS have a brief outline of the plot — detailed enough to cover the entire story, but brief enough to give me some creative freedom mid-writing.

The excitement of writing honestly wore off near the last few chapters. I’ve realised the importance of reading unfinished works in this way. Writers really need some form of motivation to keep them writing their chaptered works. So if you’re one of the real ones who started reading this even before it was completed, kudos to you. I really appreciate it.

Overall, writing this was fun. Hopefully I don’t need to do this again though; I absolutely hate writing chaptered fics because of all the time and effort put into them. I’d much rather be a ‘One-Shot Hotshot’ lol.

(v) The End (?)

I left a bit of wondering for the readers in the last chapter. If Atkins was able to wield the Force despite the false pretence that there was no longer any Force-wielders left in the universe, how many more of them could there be? 

That leaves an opening for me if I ever wish to return to this alternate universe sometime in the future. The Universe is ever-expanding, and so is our imagination.

(vi) The Inspiration

Obviously, I need to thank Star Wars. I also need to apologise because I absolutely butchered their universe. Fun fact: there was one huge plot hole I had to cover up halfway through writing. 

If you’re observant, you might remember the scene where Hyunjin asks Jisung why they didn’t just jump into hyperspace to reach Ilsanis. That’s because I was watching an episode of The Mandalorian where the Mando was forced to fly a ship without a hyperdrive engine, and I almost freaked out right there in the middle of the living room realising how weird that would be if I left the issue unattended in my own work (yikes). 

Long story short, I drew elements from the Star Wars universe and created a story of my own. I’ve been asked how I came up with the idea of the Prophecy. Frankly, I don’t know. My brain farts sometimes, I guess. Brain Farts = weird ideas that somehow make sense sometimes.

(vii) Lastly

If you have any more questions you’d like to ask (or plot holes to tell me about *shudders*), do leave me a question in my CC, or holler at me on Twitter (I’m hardly alive here on Tumblr haha). To anyone and everyone who has read ‘an odyssey’, I thank you.

This year has been a funky year, and even worse, it’s the year I had to take my IGCSEs. Writing has always been a way for me to create my own universe and release my tension and emotions, so not being able to write as much as I used to was a little tough. 

Writing will continue to be a medium for me to express my emotions and my thoughts while creating stories of my own, so simply by giving my fics a read, you’ve already fuelled my reason to continue to write. Thank you for all the support in ‘an odyssey’! 

(why did i write this entire monologue like i’m giving a speech at the Oscars or something lol im so dramatic :”))

[scoutception]

Ys V: Lost Kefin, Kingdom of Sand review

The SNES was a console with many great RPGs. From popular classics like Final Fantasy VI, Chrono Trigger, Secret of Mana, and Earthbound, to hidden gems like Live A Live, Terranigma, Secret of Evermore, and Shadowrun, it’s a library with a lot of enjoyment to offer. Of course, not every RPG on the system fared so well, with quite a few mediocre and forgettable games scattered about, and unfortunately, Ys V, Falcom’s second attempt at revamping their classic series, after Ys IV backtracked to using the original bump combat system, is among these. Even today, about the only notable thing about Ys V to a modern fan is the current lack of any remake, unlike IV, or the similarly flawed Ys III, which was enough to rouse my curiosity and drive me to give it a fair playthrough. While I did have some fun with it, there’s certainly a reason there were no new Ys games for nearly a decade afterwards, and the specifics on why that is is what we’ll be looking at today. Note that while Ys V was never released outside of Japan, it does have an English translation patch, courtesy of Aeon Genesis, in what was apparently one of their most difficult hacking jobs ever.

Story: About 4 years after the events of Ys I & II, Adol Christin, or, as he’s come to be known, Adol the Red, arrives at the port town of Xandria on the continent of Afroca (yes, literally just fantasy Alexandria and Africa), rather suspiciously without his constant companion Dogi, and on an intact ship, at that. The normally aimless Adol has been lured to Xandria by rumors of a mysterious Phantom City, said to contain amazing riches. After being contacted by a wealthy merchant named Dorman, however, Adol is given the truth: the so called Phantom City is actually the lost city of Kefin, a prosperous nation that wielded tremendous power five hundred years ago through the power of alchemy. Recently, the Kefin desert has been expanding, consuming many towns within the area, and monsters have become numerous and aggressive, leaving Xandria at threat of becoming a barren waste. Wishing to gain access to the secrets of Kefin’s alchemy in order to halt this desertification, Dorman hires Adol to find six elemental crystals that are said to have the power to unlock the way to Kefin. Unfortunately for Adol, he really has his work cut out for him this time; many of Afroca’s citizens are fearful of him, due to ancient legends telling of a red haired man that will bring great havoc upon his arrival, and he’s harassed by a band of thieves called the Ibur Gang, who are out to take all the crystals for themselves. Though Adol makes several allies as well, such as Niena, the adopted daughter of the great adventurer Stein, who disappeared three years ago looking for the crystals himself, Massea, a woman who possesses knowledge of alchemy matched by few others, and Stoker, the spirit of a man who lived five hundred years ago, he also comes to find that several other forces are conspiring to use Kefin’s alchemy for their own destructive purposes, and that his client may be less trustworthy than he initially seems.

While most of the classic Ys games had quite cliche stories, if understandably considering their age, Ys V is actually a fair bit more original, with some pretty decent moments toward the end of the game. Unfortunately, before that point, most of the story just consists of just wandering around finding all the crystals, with the random interferences Adol encounters being the only things spicing it up, such as being forced to undergo a series of trials, or being blown off a raft by a sandstorm and washing up in a different town, keeping the tradition of boating accidents in Ys alive and well. Despite the amount of important supporting characters around, most of them barely even show up for most of the story, which makes for a pretty underdeveloped and forgettable cast, with only Terra of the Ibur Gang sticking out thanks to reappearing in Ys VI. It also just feels very disconnected from the rest of the series, with Dogi completely missing, and a lot of plot elements that feel out of place for Ys. According to the book Ys Complete Works, a lot of plot elements had to be left out of V, which certainly explains why it feels so underbaked, and leaves a lot of potential for improvement if a remake ever materializes, but until then, while a neat step forward for the writing of the series, Ys V’s story ultimately just doesn’t fare very well overall.

Gameplay: Here’s where things really start falling apart. The bump combat system is gone once and for all now, with Ys V using a dedicated attack button like Ys III, a system that remains in place even today. Unlike Ys III, however, the general gameplay is still much more similar to the other titles, overhead perspective and all, with the change in combat instead feeling a lot more like the 2D Zelda titles. Along with swing his sword, Adol can also now use his shield to actively block attacks. There’s also a jump button, though there’s not much platforming to be done. In theory, this isn’t a bad change at all, but in practice, combat is extremely stiff and awkward feeling. Unlike in Zelda, where Link always swings with a nice, wide arc, Adol is stuck jabbing things for most of the game instead. Each sword has a different range, with exactly one that actually has a proper swing, and the ones you’ll use the most, the second and last swords, only being capable of stabs. Annoying as this is, it wouldn’t quite be a deal breaker, if it wasn’t for how frustratingly precise you need to be when attacking. If you’re even slightly off center, you’ll just whiff. Meanwhile, attacks from enemies are given far more leniency, and even using the shield, you need that same level of precision in order to block anything. Needless to say, this gets very frustrating.

Aside from just attacking physically, magic, or to be more accurate, alchemy, is also available, with spells being made by collecting elemental stones and having an alchemist combine three at a time, with six different elements and eighteen possible spells, which can then be attached to Adol’s weapon and slowly charged up until the magic meter reaches 100, at which point attacking will cast the spell and drain MP and spell charge. While a neat idea in concept, in practice, almost everything you can make is downright awful. Not only are many spells nearly identical to each other, but most of them are just really, really bad, with absurdly long casting animations, during which enemies are free to continue moving around and out of the spell’s range, wasting both your time and MP. About the only useful spells are the ones that hit everything on screen, which take an absurd amount of MP, and the basic fireball, which has no casting animation, and is mandatory to get anyway. Several enemies will also just absorb magic entirely and gain HP, so using it can often be an outright detriment. Even worse, the game basically forces you to use magic by separating EXP into two different types: physical EXP, obtained from defeating enemies with the sword, or from bosses, which boosts physical power and defense and magic EXP, which is gained from killing enemies with magic, and boosts magic power and defense, meaning if you ignore magic, any enemy using magic attacks will quickly wreck you. The stones needed to make the spells, along with a few other items like coins to be sold, are also mostly hidden across the different areas, and can only be found by rubbing up against every wall and object in sight, which is really annoying, and you really can’t afford to miss any of them if you want to make most of the available spells.

Bosses are pretty dumb too, with a lot of them just coming down to standing in one places and stabbing until they die, chugging heal potions until they die, and considering the most basic healing item heals 60% of Adol’s HP, it’s not hard to do, either. In general, the game is overly forgiving. While still pretty annoying, the level system means it is pretty easy to end up overleveled with physical and magic levels combined, and rather than just dropping a set amount of gold, enemies instead drop gems, which can be sold to merchants for varying amounts. While this wouldn’t make much of a difference on paper, the gems are worth so much, and certain merchants have high enough exchange rates, that you can make a lot of money pretty easily, and considering the third and second best weapons in the game are sold in the first two towns, it’s even easier to break the game wide open. Most areas are also really short, with several dungeons literally just consisting of three or four small rooms, so you’re rarely ever in serious danger traversing them, with most of their length just coming from forced backtracking. While an improvement from how grind heavy most of the early Ys games were, the easiness just makes the experience even less engaging, to the point Falcom had to make a second version of the game, titled Ys V Expert, due to complaints.

Graphics: The visuals of Ys V, to put it bluntly, barely even resemble the rest of the series, to the point it’s basically indistinguishable from any other SNES RPG. It doesn’t look outright bad, but whereas Ys usually uses a super deformed style with lots of colors, Ys V uses a more realistically proportioned style with really dark, dull colors, to the point that Adol’s usual distinctive bright red hair looks more brown than anything. Most areas are pretty forgettable, with pretty generic caves and ruins, but there are a few neat areas, like the rainy marshlands, which actually carry a pretty strong atmosphere, and the bosses look kinda cool, if a bit samey. You also get to customize Adol a bit, being able to change the color of his clothes and armor in the menu, along with his hair color, if you find a hidden NPC fairly late in the game, with the default option actually giving him his usual hair color. Overall, though, the visuals are still pretty unspectacular.

Music: In yet another change from series tradition, Ys V forgoes the usual rock style of the soundtrack, and instead takes a much more orchestral approach, again making it stand out even less from its competition, only retaining a few traditions like the item collection music and the Theme of Adol. In this case, however, I can’t complain that much about the change, because the resulting soundtrack, in usual Falcom fashion, is still fantastic. From the peaceful Foresta Village, to the melancholy Misty Lake, to the mysterious Oasis, to the dark Sand Castle, to the adventurous Wilderness, there are a lot of great tracks to be found, and it’s absolutely worth looking up the soundtrack even if the rest of the game would drive you away.

Conclusion: Overall, Ys V is not recommended. It’s not an outright bad game, and can still be decently fun. It’s short enough that it’s not much of an investment to play through, and it was still an important step that allowed Ys VI to fully modernize the gameplay of the series. As a whole though, it’s still a pretty underwhelming and clunky experience that’s almost completely divorced from the rest of the series. You’re not missing much by leaving it alone, and perhaps with the release of Ys IX, a remake of V could be next on the schedule. Either way, that’s about all I can even say about this game. Till next time. -Scout

[haikyuu-drabble]

Matsukawa x Reader | customer service

hi i very rusty please dooo noooootttt judge meeee, it has been so long since ive written something but we all gotta start somewhere!!! Now that i look back i feel like mattsun is a little out of character omggggg ughhh its ok tho lol

mattsun x reader

word count: 1103

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You forced a smile upon your face, “Thank you, and have a good night.”

The customer smiled back at you, “Thanks. Happy Holidays!”

You watched the customer walk out of your place of work and sighed as soon as they were outside. All you could think of was how much you wanted to go home, but it seemed like time was moving even slower than usual. You heard the echoing sound of the clock… it soon became deafening. You were trying to distract yourself by planning your next meal. Did you want something healthy? How about some fish?... you laughed to yourself. You knew you’d end up cooking yourself some instant ramen.

“What are you laughing at?”

You jumped at the sound of someone’s voice, and when you turned to see its source, you gave a shy smile at your coworker, “Hi, Matsukawa.”

He smiled at you and walked behind the counter next to you, “So, what were you laughing about, senpai?”

You waved it off, “What are you doing here? Also, please stop referring to me as your senpai! It’s really not that serious!”

You were not sure of your impression of Mastukawa. He didn’t talk a lot, but when he did it never failed to make you smile. That being said, you found it hard to be completely comfortable around him. It was not that he was scary, but there was just something about him that made you shy.

Mastukawa laughed at your response, and then he answered your question, “Boss called me in to help with the rush, but,” he looked around the clothing store, “looks like there really wasn’t anything for him to be worried about at this small store.”

“Just you wait,” you warned, “It’s going to get busy within the next thirty minutes once rush hour hits. The holiday season can be merciless.”

Matsukawa grinned at you, “Well, then aren’t you lucky I’ve joined you?”

You smiled “Let’s see how good you’ve gotten considering this is your third shift.”

As if you predicted, within the next couple of moments, a sudden rush of people entered your place of work. As people were going through the clothes, it was getting all sorts of disorganized. You looked at your coworker and asked, “Do you think you can go and zone a little bit? The floor is such a mess.”

Mattsukawa moved from behind the registers and saluted to you, “You got it, senpai.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, “Please stop it with the senpai.”

You were trying to quickly yet pleasantly check people out in order to prevent the store from becoming overcrowded. You were checking out an older woman out when you rung something up, and when it’s price appeared on the screen, the customer started arguing about the price, “That’s not right. It’s supposed to be cheaper.”

You took a better look at the item in your hand. You were familiar with every item in the store and their prices. You knew that the price that showed up on the register was correct, “I’m sorry, but I think this is the price of the shirt.”

“No, it’s not.” she angrily replied, “I got it off the rack that clearly has a sale sign hanging over it.”

You looked in the direction that she was pointing at, and the shirts on the sale rack were a completely different from the color to its style. You tried to explain, “I think someone had placed this on the incorrect rack. So, I’m really sorry ma’am but I can’t lower the price of this top.”

The customer was beginning to get louder, “Well, isn’t that your fault? Your store should be kept clean at all times! This is ridiculous!”

You started again, “I’m sorry, but it’s against store policy for me to do--”

“Shouldn’t it also be store policy that the customer is always right?” she interrupted.

You tried to respond, but the woman continued, “I swear, it’s your generation that doesn’t know anything. Your small brain can’t even understand the concept of customer service!”

Your mouth fell open, and you were at a loss for words. You were about to give in to her when Matsukawa stepped in with a smile, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but it really is against store policy to change the price of a ticketed item. If you’d like, I can give you the number of our store manager, and you can take it up with them.”

The woman was caught off guard and definitely intimidated by Matsukawa’s height, but she tried to stand her ground, “Yes. Give me that number.”

The line behind her all groaned, and someone from the line said, “Just don’t get the shirt if it’s too expensive for you. We all have somewhere to be. Don’t take any longer than you already have.”

The lady’s brow furrowed and she threw the rest of the clothes on the counter, “Forget it. I’m not getting anything anymore.”

You watched her storm out of the store, and before you could say anything to Matsukawa, he already was walking back towards the floor to continue zoning.

After the rush was finally done and the store was empty of guests, you moved from behind the register and towards Mastukawa. He was folding the clothes on the table, and you started to help him, “Thanks for earlier, Matsukawa.”

He didn’t look up from the sweater he was folding, so you couldn’t see his face, “For zoning?”

You laughed, “No, for helping me out with that… interesting customer earlier.”

“‘Interesting customer’?” he smiled at you, “That’s an ‘interesting’ way to put it.”

You exploded, “Fine, that annoying and vapid customer asking me to risk getting fired over $3. That customer who clearly lied about grabbing the shirt from the sale rack because you were doing a great job cleaning the floor.”

You looked at the face of your coworker… he had a huge grin on his face, “So, that’s your real personality.”

You felt your eyes go wide and face turn red from embarrassment, “Sorry.”

Matsukawa put his hand on his hip, “I heard from our boss that you were… a bit blunt, but I never actually saw it.”

He patted the top of your head before heading to another unorganized table of clothes, “That being said, I think we’ll be having a lot more fun to come this holiday season.”

You put your hand over the area he touched. It felt warm.

You smiled at his back facing you, and with a snarky grin replied, “Should you really be patting your senpai on the head like that?”