#or enemies in the case of the highlands

[vivalasthedas]

there are a lot of good things about mods like stardew valley expanded

but one of the giant fucking negatives

is they really do not understand efficient space use in games like this

oh you made the map bigger did you? You made it take longer and be more annoying to traverse a space i have to cross a lot, hhuhh? And you added no interesting elements except endless fucking repetitive tree and shit. Well done. Truly amazing

[serpentface]

Dragon folklore in the Imperial Wardin region

A dragon as depicted in Wardi, Wogan, and Cholemdinae folklore

Dragon folklore is broadly similar between the three collections of human peoples who have inhabited the region since prehistory. The details of their description vary somewhat, but the core traits are the same. These dragons are described as very large birdlike creatures (standing as tall or taller than a human) with bodies like eagles, a reptilian head (usually that of a crocodile or lizard), black feathers, and trailing tail plumage. They are sometimes horned, and Wardi variants are specified as having wattles like roosters.

All variants of this folklore associates them with storms, lightning, and wildfires. They are said to only emerge during lightning storms and intentionally set grass fires in order to hunt. Some sources ascribe them power over lightning itself, which they capture in the clouds and send to the ground with the beating of their wings. Others state that they are simply immune to it. In either case, they set their tail feathers ablaze in lightning strikes, and then fly low over the ground to strategically spread the fire. They completely surround their prey with wildfire, and then circle overhead in wait until it has succumbed to the smoke and flames.

They are usually characterized as killing indiscriminately as fire itself, eating anything they can capture whether it be wild animals, livestock, or people. They have no appetite for raw meat, and will only eat burnt flesh.

These dragons rarely come down to the ground, spending most of their lives in storm clouds. They migrate along with the rains and breed in grasslands during the peak of the wet season, with female dragons laying their eggs hidden in tall grass. Dragon chicks are born with completely white feathers, which are gradually singed black with every hunt. The darker a dragon, the older and more dangerous it is.

They are generally non-personified and regarded as wild beasts, though are sometimes given a particularly vengeful nature. Stories of mother dragons burning down entire villages or towns in retribution for the death of their chicks can be found region-wide.

Wogan folklore is an exception (though this is more an aspect of a broader animistic worldview rather than a unique quality of dragons themselves), in which the dragon is personified and credited with first teaching the people how to practice controlled burns for agricultural purposes. The Wogan dragon is a very powerful and dangerous spirit and communion with it requires wisdom and caution. Many stories describe people enslaving dragons or capturing their chicks order to utilize their power to destroy enemies, only to be annihilated with fire themselves.

A dragon as depicted in the folklore of the Hill Tribes, ft. an unfortunate horse

The dragon folklore of the Highlands has some connection to the aforementioned (particularly in their association with storms) as a product of centuries of cultural interchange, but stems from a wholly separate tradition brought from overseas, bearing much in common with analogous legendary creatures in Finn and Royal Dain culture.

These dragons are heavily personified, being wholly sapient and capable of speech, and are said to be either extremely long-lived or completely immune to aging (though not immune to being killed). They are described as very large birds with the wings and bodies of eagles, the spurred legs of pheasants, the wrinkled necks of vultures, and the head and tail of a snake. Dragons are almost always red, brown, and yellow in color, resembling golden eagles (like their father). They kill prey with their venomous bite, said to be the deadliest of all animals. They are uniquely menacing to people, having little to no interest in wild prey in favor of the tender, domesticated meat of horses and cattle (or humans themselves)

Dragons are all males, and all brothers. They are the progeny of the goddess Ariakh and her spirit husband, the King of Eagles. Ariakh reproduced with her husband twice- first in the form of a human, in which she gave birth to the Winds, her four eldest sons, and second in the form of an eagle, in which she laid a clutch of eggs that hatched all dragons. These dragons are smaller and less powerful beings than their older brothers, and they're ascribed a sense of profound bitterness about this.

They are jealous and vain in nature, constantly squabbling amongst themselves for rank and admiration and menacing humans to gain recognition. Folktales often center on heroes taking advantage of their competitiveness and insecurity in order to defeat them. They occasionally play neutral or positive roles in tales, where they assist human protagonists in exchange for sabotaging one of their brothers, gifts of horsemeat, or excessive flattery.

[mrsparrasblog]

I wont pay for your therapy after this🥲

Mrs. MacTavish

Scotland—Johnny's birthplace and the place where he would be laid down permanently. The three men closest to him, the men who saw him die, stood together with his ashes in their hands. It felt surreal for them; of course, they knew something like this could happen. They had all lost a great deal of friends, but this was different. This task force should have been invincible, they should have been better—too good to be killed. But here they were, only three of them.

"Who dares wins. Sleep easy, soldier."

"See you down range, brother. We take it from here."

"Rest in peace, Johnny."

The men spread his ashes; he was finally where he felt at home, at least that's what his friends, his brothers in duty, thought.

They sat together in a rundown pub, unsure how to grieve or how to throw a worthy wake. Price said he didn't have any family left, so they were all he had, and they still failed him.

An order of his favorite whiskey stood on the table they usually occupied.

"He'd love that, he loved this place," Gaz said, trying to reassure his brothers. He now needed to be the glue of the group, the job Soap had before.

"One time, he hit an officer when he was still a rookie. The officer touched a female civilian, and Soap knocked him out. He almost got kicked out of the military, but he didn't press charges—too embarrassing," Price said, earning a slight chuckle from Gaz. Ghost stayed still; he was frozen since the death of his best friend.

"He almost beat my record at the SAS. Made me proud when I saw him in the recruitment," Gaz told them.

"He was the best," Ghost said. His voice sounded monotone; if he didn't have this thick British accent, he would have sounded like a robot.

"He tried to enlist in the SAS several times at 16, lying about his age each time," Price chuckled at the thought of his best trainee.

"He was more than his accomplishments." The other two men looked confused at Ghost; they weren't as close, he knew him better than them.

"Of course, he was, son."

"He had a journal, always drawing each of us, calling us his family. But now, he is dead. We failed him," Ghost said, bringing Gaz and Price down from their attempts to cheer him up and to appreciate Soap's life accomplishments. But he was dead, and nothing would ever change that.

After a while of drinking without speaking a word, Laswell came in, looking at the group of guys sitting down next to them. "Holding a wake for him?" she asked, nipping at the shared whiskey.

"Spread his ashes," Ghost replied shortly.

"You did what?" Her voice was loud; they could see the look of panic on her face.

"What's wrong, Kate? He would love resting in the Highlands."

"Please tell me, John, you didn't spread the whole ash."

"Kate, what's wrong?" Price asked, and she only sighed.

"I'm torn between granting the wishes of a deceased person and betraying his wishes at the same time," Laswell said. The inner conflict was visible in the wrinkles around her eyes.

"Laswell, spit it out!" Ghost shouted at her, the normally calm soldier completely losing control of his emotions.

"His last wish was that someone specific get his body in case of his early demise."

"Bullshit, he had no family left," Gaz replied, confused. His brother wouldn't lie to him about his family.

"Who is this person?" Ghost asked, his expression full of hurt. He wasn't mad like Kyle about the possibility that Johnny lied to them; Johnny was always smarter than the rest of them. He couldn't entertain the possibility that one of his brothers or whoever this person was would die because of his enemies.

"Mrs. MacTavish," Kate muttered under her breath. She promised him before joining the task force that she wouldn't, under any circumstances, tell anyone about her.

"Like his mother?" Kyle asked, and Kate only shook her head.

"He was married?"

"For ten years," Kate sighed.

"I will personally tell her and apologize," Price said. He knew this was the least he could do for him.

"I will tell her," Ghost thought. He needed to do this for his best friend, especially making sure that whoever she was, she would never be found by Makarov and could live a safe civilian life.

"Count me in, Captain," Gaz said, determined to apologize to Soap's wife. Maybe if he had been better, faster, Makarov wouldn't have gotten Soap.

These three men were as different as they could have been; the only thing about them that all of them shared was the guilt.

A few days later

The last days were harder than usual for you; the pregnancy took a toll on you. The worst part was not hearing anything from your beloved Johnny for a long time. You were used to not hearing from him; you knew what you were getting into when you decided to marry him. But you never even thought about making him retire. You loved him since high school. How couldn't you? He was a charmer. He had been in love with you since you both were 6, starting elementary school.

He asked you at least every week if you wanted to marry him when you grew older. You always declined his advances. You were sure that you even hit him once for staring too long at you. He looked like an arrogant ass who could have anyone he wanted, but somehow, he never, not even for a second in his life, thought about another woman. So after some years, you decided to give him a chance, and you never regretted this decision once in your life.

The bell rang, and you were sure it must have been one of the neighbors asking if they could have milk or eggs from the farm. But before you could gather your pregnant body up, your six-year-old son ran up, opening the door. "Maybe it's Dad, Mommy!"

"James William MacTavish, how often did I tell you not to open the door?"

Your son was a spitting image of your Johnny. It got worse when he decided that he needed to cut himself a mohawk to look like his dad. You were so happy to see Johnny's reaction to the mohawk when he came back.

At the door stood three muscular, tall guys looking down at the little boy. As Kyle saw the spitting image of Johnny, he walked to the nearest trash can and threw up. It was too much for him. The thought of a wife was bad enough, but a son too.

You walked down and gathered your son who hugged your thigh. You looked at the men; one of them was a bit older with a funny beard, and the other one was blonde with a scared face.

When Price saw the visible baby bump, his heart broke. The thought of you not only having a son but also being pregnant gave him the rest; his guilt was eating him out.

"Mrs. MacTavish?"

"Yes?" you asked in confusion. They didn't seem like the villagers who wanted to buy something from the farm, nor the parents of your students.

"We need to talk about your husband."

"No," you knew what this meant; you knew it in your gut.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. MacTavish, but your husband died while protecting his country."

You always thought these films were dramatic, but it was nothing compared to what you felt right now. The pain was indescribable; you felt like someone pulled your ground from you, and you fell, completely in shock. Your tears slowly started to roll down, and you saw how the older man held the blonde one back from reaching out to you.

"No, my Johnny, he said he would always come back. He will come back, he will come back to us, he always will," you sobbed uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

From behind, Aiofe and Maeve ran down, our oldest, the twins. "Mom, are you okay?" All your three children sat down next to you, afraid that something happened to their mom.

That was the final straw as Ghost saw even more children, his best friend left behind a wife, three children, and a little one on the way. It should have been him.

You sobbed as you spoke to your children, "It's okay, Simon is just kicking hard in my belly, nothing is wrong with Mommy. I love you."

"We love you too, Mommy."

[harrygoeswest]

Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed…

~~~

A/N: Hiiiiii! I think I announced this like 3 months ago and never finished it, but we're finally here! I actually really fucking love this story. I've never done this 'one bed' trope before, nor an enemies-to-lovers OU, because EVERYONE loves H man, right? Well, not this YN. And he's not too fond of her either. I'm really excited to share it with you. Again, what started as a one shot grew into a two-parter because I simply cannot contain myself when the ball starts rolling. Anyhoo, to my forever friend @all-things-fic, thank you as always for reading this through and making me snort at your comments and being the ultimate validator <3

Word Count: 13,261 Trigger Warnings: Swearing (obvs), vomiting, bed-sharing with a sexy man

~~~

Rain. Persistent, unabated, never-ending, relentless rain. It was all you’d heard and seen all day and you were sick of it. You’d never really minded it until today, but thanks to one shit-show after another, you were ready to relinquish it. You wanted it gone. Your summer holiday was already off to a bad start.

“Bad day?”

Where to begin?

A cabin in the Scottish Highlands had sounded like the perfect escape for a four-week break away from the city. You had work to do, deadlines to meet, but at least you could do it without being interrupted. Without the sounds of pedestrians and car horns and wayward seagulls and bike bells. Yep, the Highlands still sounded perfect, but the endless string of catastrophes made you wonder if it really was perfect or rather just a ridiculous indulgence.

No. You deserved this break. Bad day or not, the holiday was needed.

When your brother had told you a year ago that he’d bought a holiday home in the Highlands you hadn’t exactly been surprised. He and his wife had been talking about it for years, and he’d finally earned enough money through his music career to be able to do it. Sadly, with your own deadlines and packed schedule, this was the first time in said year you’d been able to find time to go.

Apparently the all-knowing entity in your life had other plans.

You were supposed to come by plane first thing this morning, but your car had broken down on the way to the airport and you spent 3 hours waiting for the AA to rescue you. You had then managed to rearrange your flight to a later one, but because of the weather, all other flights out of Bristol had been cancelled for the day. You then spent a ridiculous amount of money on a 10 hour train from Bristol to Inverness with a change at Edinburgh in between, and were now forking out on a taxi to take you the rest of the way.

At that particular point in time, a cabin in the middle of nowhere seemed like a dreadful fucking idea.

“Could say that.” You managed weakly.

The driver chuckled to himself and you tried not to squeal. “Nearly there now. Fifteen minutes or so.”

There is a God!

Forty-five minutes later he finally stopped in the middle of a single track road. Your eyelid had been twitching for half that time, and a headache was forming in your left temple.

He turned over his shoulder and flashed a grin. He was missing an incisor and three of his other teeth were gold. “This is as far as I can get you. Cabin is at the top of that hill.”

You gave him a look, then peered out the window. All you could see was rain and mud and a black night. “What hill?”

“You’ll find it. Fare is sixty.”

“Sixty quid?”

He nodded. “Scottish if you’ve got ‘em. I’m a collector.”

“We agreed on forty. And no, I don’t have any bloody Scottish notes.” A Scottish man collecting Scottish money! On what planet?!

“No, sixty.”

You muttered expletives under your breath and shoved the money at him over his shoulder.

“Y’alright gettin’ your own case, love? Don’t really want t’ get wet.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

In the shittiest, snappiest manner you could muster, you got out of the car and retrieved your luggage from the boot, slamming every door you touched. The driver immediately pulled off once the boot was closed, pipping his horn.

“Wanker!” You yelled after him.

Finding your bearings, you located the ‘hill’ he’d been talking about, forcing down your frustration at the size of the damn thing as you started up the pathway. You dragged your suitcase behind you through the mud, grateful it had a hard and waterproof plastic exterior. At least after all this you’d be able to take a shower and change into clean clothes.

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to reach the cabin, thanks to not only the rain but also the brutal wind. When you finally reached the porch you fell onto it, greeted by the most intense relief you’d ever felt. You took a minute to recover from your exercise, and then fumbled around on the dark porch for the stone your brother had left the key under.

“Aha.” Delighted when you found it, you pulled the key out of the rock and shoved it in the door, unlocking it.

Heat floated over your body, as did warm, homey light. Weird. Why were the lights on?

Then did your eyes land on the thing that was most definitely out of place. 

A loud, shrill scream ripped from your body.

A man was in the cabin. A naked man. Mostly. The only thing saving him and you was the towel wrapped around his waist. Shiny back, muscly arms, damp neck, wet hair. At the sound of your wail he turned around, equally as alarmed.

“What the-?”

In his panic, the grip he had on his towel slipped, and you were given more of an eyeful than you ever bargained for. 

You screamed again and reached for the closest thing to you, then lurched it across the room at him. Then your brain caught up with you, and you pulled the door closed again, separating you from him. You were back outside in the cold.

That man wasn’t just anyone. He’d never been just anyone. He was your sister-in-law’s friend. He was your brother’s boss, to a degree. He was your worst fucking nightmare rolled into physical human form.

He was Harry fucking Styles.

This was officially the worst day of your life.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You repeated, over and over again as you paced the porch, head in your hands. You knocked into your suitcase multiple times and it ended up falling down the porch steps into a muddy puddle. You tripped over a loose piece of decking at least twice. You caught your hip on the porch bannister, too. But none of it registered with you while your brain cycled between images of Harry’s naked back and his large appendage.

How could this be happening? What had you done to deserve such a catastrophic start to your holiday? You couldn’t stay here. Not with that man. That man that you hated, and who hated you in return. This was a disaster.

You dug your phone out of your sopping handbag. No signal. 

“Oh, come on.” You hissed.

Stubborn as always, you tried to call your brother anyway. Repeatedly. Twenty times, at least, each one failing to connect. You couldn’t even leave a voicemail. You raised the phone to the sky like it was baby Simba. Still nothing.

“Fuck!”

The door swung open, and Harry said your name in a low grunt.

You swivelled, glare like a dagger. “You. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He scoffed. He was clothed now, in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. “Why are you here?”

“This is my brother’s cabin! I have a key! He said I could stay here!”

“Well, guess what?” He leaned forward, arms crossed. “Holly said I could stay here, too.”

You wanted to throw your phone at his stupid face. “Fucking great.”

“There’s obviously been some misunderstanding.” He straightened.

“You don’t say…” 

His gaze narrowed. “You’re impossible.”

“At least I’m not the one who’s stupid enough to state the obvious.”

You turned away again and tried your brother one more time. The beep beep beep that told you the call had failed yet again had your stomach in knots.

“There’s no phone signal here.”

“Yes, thank you. Just go back inside.”

“No.”

“For the love of Christ, why not?”

“I’d rather see what you’re going to do with yourself.”

You turned another glare on him. “Oh, I’m so glad that the shitty situation I’ve found myself in is entertaining you, Harry. Please, mock me some more. The resulting anger might actually take the chill out of my fucking toes.”

He looked like he was about to open his mouth, but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this really has been the day from hell. It’s been a categorical disaster from start to finish, and finally getting myself here only to find you, of all people, really is the cherry on top of my whopping slice of shit pie. So please, do me this one favour, and sod off back inside.”

His jaw ticked, and he emitted a low growl before he slammed the door of the cabin and left you in the cold, wet night.

A sob wracked through you, and you flopped down on the top step just to let your body deflate for five minutes. It was so cold you were shivering. Your clothes clung to your body like sheets of ice, your lips were cracked, and a bite ate away at your toes.

You knew you couldn’t do much tonight. You’d have to wait until tomorrow, for when the storm hopefully passed, and you could call your brother to give him a gobful and then walk into the village to find a B&B or cheap hotel. You hadn’t forgotten that your train ticket was a set day return for four weeks’ time. You’d just have to wait until Harry was gone before you took your time to enjoy the cabin like you’d planned.

When you finally calmed down you dragged your suitcase out of the mud and dropped it on the driest part of the deck. You dug around for the jumper you’d brought with you and pulled it over your frozen torso. You also took your shoes and socks off and put two clean pairs on. Once you were wrapped back up in your coat, you settled on the armchair that was the least wet and tried to go to sleep.

After five minutes or so, the cabin door creaked open again.

“Come inside, please.” Harry’s voice was void of any emotion.

“No.”

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”

“Rather that than share a bed with you.”

“And you think I want to share a bed with you, either?”

“Then we’re both on the same page. I’m fine out here.”

“You are not fuckin’ fine out here. It’s shitting it down, for fuck’s sake, you could get a flu. Or worse.”

You hadn’t opened your eyes so you had no idea what his facial expression read. “I’m surprised you give a shit enough to care.”

“I don’t particularly, but I like your brother and I don’t want him thinking I didn’t at least try to get you to be sensible when it’s fucking biblical outside.”

“I’ll pass.”

Harry took a deep breath, and he muttered, “Bloody insufferable woman,” before he slammed the door again.

You snuggled further into the chair, shoving your hands under your face. You thought that would be the end of it, but no more than thirty seconds later the door swung back open. You pretended to ignore him, expecting a verbal taunt. Instead, all you got was scuffing noises.

Pushing down the urge to growl like he did at you, you squeezed your eyes shut and faked indifference at his huffy grunting. Until he dragged you out of the chair and hauled you into the cabin in three easy movements.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, scowling at him as he locked the door behind you.

“You can be as stubborn and petty as you like about this, but you are not staying outside in the rain. End of story.”

“I was fine!”

“You were not fine.” He folded his arms again. “Look at you, for fuck’s sake. You’re about five seconds away from catching hypothermia. You think I want that on my hands? You, of all people, needing my attention every day for the next five weeks? I don’t, by the way. I came here for a holiday, too.”

“I didn’t bring myself here to be a God damn burden to you, Harry. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why don’t you go and get in the shower, and maybe you’ll calm the fuck down.”

You inched closer to him. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. Me, following your orders like some sycophant.”

He took a step closer to me. “I would, actually. It might make you somewhat tolerable.”

“Get fucked, Harry.”

“Sounds like you need that more than I do.”

You produced a noise somewhere between a grunt and a squeal, and shoved at his chest once before you stalked away. “Prick.”

He hummed, entertained. “Try not to think about mine while you’re in there. I’m sure the sight of it has left you with enough to be desired.”

Too tired to argue with him anymore, you threw your middle finger at him over your shoulder.

Whether you’d been forced inside against your will or not, you really did want a shower before a permanent chill settled over you. You turned the water on and let it run hot. The second it swilled over your body you let out a helpless moan. 

You stood stoic underneath it for an indeterminate amount of time, just willing your body to warm up. The day washed away from you, worries temporarily forgotten while you soaked up as much heat as you could. Oh, it was glorious. A shower had never been so rewarding.

After a while you realised you didn’t have any of your shower stuff with you, still locked in your suitcase, and you let out a huff. You surveyed what Harry had brought with him and spent too long debating whether it was socially acceptable to wash using your mortal enemy’s shower gel. You decided against it and would properly wash in the morning.

Taking another ten minutes, you decided you were ready to face Harry again and whatever bollocks he might throw your way. You found a towel and gave your hair a dry, then wrapped it around your body. You hadn’t thought this through in your desperation to get away from him.

You stepped out of the room with purpose and marched over to where Harry had abandoned your suitcase after dragging it inside earlier, and carefully picked your way through it to find your pyjamas and toothbrush. Without giving the man even the slightest glance, you locked yourself back up in the bathroom to change and clean your teeth.

“Forget your clothes?” Harry asked at your second reappearance.

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” You gave a roll of your eyes.

He sat straighter in the armchair he was settled into, “Why answer a question with another question?”

You ignored him. Instead you gave yourself the opportunity to actually take in your brother’s second home. You realised it was tiny. Like Tiny Home tiny. When he said he’d bought a cabin you thought he meant something like a chalet. But no, this was small. A kitchenette had been built into the right-hand wall by the front door with a fridge, a two-plate hob and a stainless steel sink. Two armchairs sat either side of a small birch table, and a double bed at the back of the room with a cherrywood wardrobe. A woven rug gave the space a homey feel, balancing the bare oak that gave foundation for the rest of the place.

A sinking feeling buried in you when you realised there wasn’t a sofa.

You rubbed a hand into your cheek, feeling slightly cheated by your brother and his wife. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Harry said into the quiet, all malice and jest lost.

“I feel like it.” You admitted, turning your stare on the bed. “I’m just tired.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “I sleep on the left.”

You refrained from giving him another eye roll and instead focussed on settling down. You left your phone on the dining table, plugged in to charge overnight, poured a glass of water which you drank in one long swig, and then returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Harry had settled on the left side of the bed but with his head at the foot and his feet at the top. If he slept on the left, did that not completely defeat the purpose of his claim?

“Top and tail.”

“Yeah, no. Absolutely not.” You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I am not giving you the opportunity to stick your foot in my face at any given point in the night.”

He kissed his teeth and sat up with a scowl. “Woman, you have got some major fuckin’ trust issues.”

“With you I do, absolutely.”

You waited until he was in bed the right way up before you slipped in yourself and turned the light off. The room was cast in darkness and your eyes struggled to adjust. You faced away from Harry on your side, wriggling to find a comfortable position, and you could hear him doing the same.

His foot was definitely on your side of the bed so you kicked it away. He then tried to take the covers off you, but you were quick to snatch them back. He let out a deep sigh.

“Can I have some of the quilt, please?”

“You’ve got some.”

“I have none.”

“Bullshit.”

He ripped the covers away again, and you fought the urge to squeal.

“Give some back.”

“You have some.” He said in the same tone you had.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’ve just spent an hour using up all the hot water so I refuse to believe that.”

“What is your problem?”

“You are.”

You grit your teeth. Folding your arms, you scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. Arguing with him was fruitless, it just left you angry and wired.

Tomorrow, you resolved to find somewhere, anywhere else to stay. For now, you’d try to sleep uncomfortable and coverless.

~

Had you slept?

No.

For hours you’d imprisoned yourself on the edge of the bed, cold and coverless, hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm, and squeezing your eyes closed just praying that sleep would come. But it never did. You’d think after the day you had yesterday it would be easy to just drop off. Why would it be that simple for you?

You knew it was light outside now thanks to the inside of your eyelids. You decided then to give up. Sleep wasn’t coming.

As you opened your eyes you realised how close to the edge of the bed you were. At the same time, Harry wriggled again, further onto your side of the mattress, and his knee nudged your backside.

Oh no.

Struggling to find anything to hold onto, your body tumbled over the edge. A panicked yelp tore out of you, followed by a grunt and a thud when you hit the floor.

“Ow.” You whimpered. You’d fallen on your front, knee and toe first followed by your head. You rolled onto your back and held onto your forehead as if it might stop the pounding you felt.

Laughter started, and your eyes flew open to find Harry hovering over the side of the bed, green eyes shining. You were, actually, somewhat offended by how entertained he was. If it was acceptable to hit people, you’d be hitting him.

“You alright down there?”

“No I’m not fucking alright, Harry.”

Your own anger made the throbbing in your head worse so you stayed on your back.

“Alright, was only a question.”

“This is your bloody fault - you’re a bed hogger!”

“Yeah? Well you snore!”

“Considering I didn’t get a single second of sleep last night I don’t know how you’ve landed on that conclusion, and I can only assume you’ve made it up to piss me off.”

“You were snoring.” He said in a flat voice.

“No I wasn’t.”

The throbbing got worse again, so you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then another.

“You’ve hit your head.”

If the thought of rolling your eyes didn’t make you nauseous you’d absolutely do it. “If there was an award for Best Observationist, you’d win it.”

“Do you need ice or something?”

His voice had changed and it somewhat startled you. You peeled an eye open again to find he hadn’t moved - he was still hanging over the bed. His expression, however, was neutral.

“Yes. Please.”

He gave a curt nod and then disappeared. You closed your eyes again, willing the throbbing away.

“There isn’t any ice.”

You refrained from screaming, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good. “Okay.”

“Here,” his voice was much closer, and he gave a little pat to your knee, “this might help.”

Peeling an eye open, he flashed a couple of boxes of painkillers. “Panadol.” Of course the man had branded paracetamol. The 95p boxes of Sainsbury’s own shoved in your kitchen cupboard looked shameful right about now.

“Extra strength. And that rapid relief ibuprofen.”

“You brought painkillers with you on holiday?”

He shrugged. “I’m here for a long time. Hangovers need encouragement to get fucked.”

You raised a sceptic brow. “And here I thought some magical mystery Nutri-Bullet recipe would be your saviour.”

“Funny.” He muttered.

Huh. How unlike him not to shove a witty rebuttal at you.

“Do you need help getting up or are you just gonna sit on the floor all day?”

Your scowl returned. “I’m fine.”

On shaky legs and with a fuzzy head, you grabbed the side of the bed and hauled yourself up. You weren’t sure if the sudden ringing in your ears was something you should be worried about, but you persisted.

Once sat, Harry handed you the tablet boxes and fetched a glass of water for you while you thumbed out two of each.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Please and thank you in the space of ten minutes?” He goaded. “Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”

“My parents didn’t raise me in a barn.”

He stood with his broad arms folded across his chest while he watched you swallow down four tablets, face a mishmash of irritation and something else. You refused to believe it was concern so you attributed it to frustration. You were just ruining his holiday the same way he was ruining yours.

You decided to finish the water, and then Harry took the boxes and the glass from you. You laid back down, shielding the room and your eyes with your arms.

“Sure you don’t need a hospital?” His voice was far away.

“Yes. I just need to close my eyes for a bit. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t answer, and you were thankful. Any more talking and your head might have exploded.

~

You’d fallen asleep. While you hadn’t intended to, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the respite. There was no way you would’ve been able to do anything on zero hours sleep, so a few was better than nothing.

You sat up, noticing that you’d corrected yourself direction-wise on the bed and pulled the covers over you. You must’ve done it subconsciously.

The cabin was quiet. Almost eerily so. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. The only sign that he’d been there at all was his own suitcase tucked away in the corner. No sound came from the bathroom, and all you could hear outside was birds.

Birds. Not rain.

You scrambled out of bed towards the front door and hauled it open, but it was locked. Harry had locked you in. You found the key your brother had left for you on the table and put it to use.

It was glorious outside. Not a cloud in the sky, blue everywhere, green even more so. And it was warm. Summer dress warm. Your feet itched to go outside, but you knew you needed to take it easy. The headache hadn’t completely subsided, but it was tolerable. Barely there. A shower and some food would fix it.

You closed the door and locked it again, determined to start your day. Steadily.

You were about to head straight for the shower when you noticed it. A brown paper bag trapped under a pretty mug, and a jar of instant coffee wedged inside it. The mug lived here - you recognised it from Holly’s old flat. But the greasy brown bag did not. You noticed the letters GF scrawled on the front.

He remembered.

Warning bells started screaming inside your head as you plucked the bag out and opened it up. The smell of cooled buttery pastry wafted from inside, and you pulled out the biggest croissant you’d ever seen.

The message was clear as day. Eat and get some caffeine in you.

This was bad. Angry Harry you could deal with any day of the week at any time of day. You could even cope with jester Harry, because you gave just as good as you got. But this? Base-level concern? It threw you for a loop.

Regardless, you were starving. So you boiled the kettle and made your coffee just how you like it as you tore off pieces of pastry and gobbled it down. While you waited for your coffee to cool once your croissant was demolished, you took a quick shower.

Half an hour later you were out the door and feeling a hell of a lot better than you had done for weeks. You wandered down into the village, the sun a glowing comfort on your bare skin.

You had a mission today: alternative accommodation.

You kept an eye on your phone for patches of signal, and called your brother whenever you found some. He never answered. Part of you wondered if he was ignoring you, and if that was the case you were going to have a very big problem. He only ignored you if he was avoiding you.

And that wasn’t even your biggest problem.

“I’m sorry, we’re full.” The receptionist at the final B&B said with barely an ounce of emotion.

“The sign outside said you had vacancies.”

“I just sold the last one over the phone. Haven’t had time to change it.” She gave me a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

You fought a petulant sigh. “Do you know where else I can stay? I’ve tried every B&B here and no one has any vacancies.”

“Why don’t you try an AirBnB.” She suggested with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “You young people seem to love those.”

Ah, so this was a territorial issue. You gave her a flat glare and left without another word.

Yet again, you found yourself in a rut. Your good mood had been successfully wiped away. Maybe you would check AirBnB, but the thought of spending another obscene amount on accommodation filled you with a sickly feeling.

Your phone started ringing, much to your surprise. Holly. “Is my brother ignoring me?”

“I don’t know, but if he was, he probably wouldn’t tell me.” She laughed, always a fan of your no-nonsense approach. “I thought I’d call since I haven’t heard from you. Did you make it there alive?”

“Alive is not the word I’d use to describe my current state. It’s also impossible to call someone when the phone signal is worse than a World War II air raid shelter.”

Holly cackled. “You’re such a nerd. What’s wrong?”

“Either you’re playing dumb to avoid my wrath or you’re very stupid.”

She gasped your name but she was most definitely entertained. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is here. Using your holiday home.”

An extended period of silence followed, completed with a breathy, “Oh… shit.”

Oh shit, indeed.

“Well,” she seemed to shake herself, “it can’t be that bad.”

This one was truly off her rocker. “Can’t be that bad? Holly, how many times have you been in a room with me and Harry at the same time?”

“Plenty.”

“Exactly. How many times have we had a fight whilst in said same room together?”

“Almost always.”

“Not almost always, just always. We. Do. Not. Get. On.”

“Oh, babe, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“There’s only one fucking bed!”

Holly went quiet for a minute, and you realised you’d earned the attention of a few passers by. You sat down on a nearby bench, wary of the throb in your head getting worse.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked.

That set you off. You launched into your shitty day from yesterday, from the car breakdown to the taxi driver to hitting your head this morning. Words without breath had never left you so fast and the feeling you were rewarded with after was less than satisfactory. Deflation. Sadness.

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going.” You were certain she was lying about that last sentence but you didn’t interrupt her. “I’ll get in touch with Harry and tell him to rein it in.”

“I don’t need you to curb the man on my behalf, Hol. I can handle him myself. I just… I really wish he wasn’t here.”

“Do you want me to make him leave?”

A rare sight of guilt crept its way into the centre of your stomach. You battled the urge to say yes, because you knew if Holly asked him to, he would absolutely go. “No… hardly fair. He was here first.”

“Yeah but I bet you would’ve been if all those things didn’t go wrong yesterday.”

You grunted. You were supposed to arrive just before 9am yesterday morning, not close to 11pm. “Don’t make him leave. I’m a bitch but I’m not a complete cunt.”

“You’re not either of those things by any stretch. My friend just happens to know how to really rattle your cage.”

Ain’t that the truth. “I’m trying to find a B&B or something but they’re all full.”

“Oh, please don’t spend more money.”

“I can’t stay in your cabin, Hol. I didn’t sleep last night and that man does not know how to share a queen bed.”

“It’s actually a three-quarter bed.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned.

“Look, we wanted it to be as spacious as possible there. We didn’t anticipate two people who claim to hate each other having to share it. It’s for cuddling.”

That urge to smack someone reared its ugly head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She laughed from the back of her throat, and as irritated as you were it did make you smile. “Take a long walk, babe. If you’re in the village there’s a great ice cream place near the church that’ll make you forget all about He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can say Harry, for fuck’s sake.”

She screamed as if she’d been burned, teasing you.

“Shut up.” You actually managed to laugh. “Fine. I’ll go find some ice cream. But if they’ve got WiFi I will absolutely be looking for an AirBnB.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Do me a favour and tell my brother to stop being a wuss.”

“Oh, come on, you know he can’t handle your wrath. You can tell him yourself, anyway.”

You started looking around to see if they’d actually come up and were just loitering nearby to piss you off.

“What?”

“We were going to surprise you but I think you might murder us if we did. We’re on our way to you. My Nanna will be coming, too - we’ve got a table booked at the pub in the village.”

Unbelievable. “You little minx.” 

One of the reasons Holly and your brother bought a holiday home in Scotland was to be able to spend more time with Holly’s family. While she grew up in London and has never left it, her mum’s side of the family are all in Scotland.

Holly giggled, obviously delighted with herself. “Sorry. We’re set to arrive in about two hours.”

“But where are you staying?”

“My Nan’s house.”

“Not got a spare room, has she?” You mumbled.

“I know you don’t mean that, but she doesn’t. We’re staying on her pullout.”

“Damn.”

“We’re gonna go straight there and then come to you afterwards, alright?”

You took a deep breath and stood up from your bench. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

“Byeee!”

You were already making a beeline for the ice cream shop by the time she put the phone down.

It was a cute little parlour, like something straight out of a movie. Retro tiles covered the walls and floor in pinks and yellows, two long display freezers to the left full to the brim with every single flavour one could ever imagine. Tables spread across the right and spilled onto the street, and booths in the corner each had a miniature jukebox on top.

“How can I help you?” A man behind the counter asked, dressed in a full uniform complete with the little hat.

“Hi, um,” you gave him the best smile you could, even if you were overwhelmed, “do you have any gluten free cones?”

“Sure,” he gestured to the stand on the top with a variety of cones, from small to ridiculously large in size, “just this one.”

The cone in question was the most pathetic-looking of them all. You did your absolute best to hide your disappointment. “Great, then I’ll have one of those. Chocolate, please.”

“Which type?” He lifted a brow.

You realised then that there were about ten different chocolate flavours. “Er… which is the best one in your opinion?”

That perked him up. He spent the next five minutes listing off reasons why the chocolate and hazelnut flavour was his most popular of all his options.

“I guess that’s the one I want, then.” You forced another smile.

“Coming right up.”

Something made you shiver, but it wasn’t a gust of wind or the freezers you stood by.

“At least try and act like you’re excited about it.” A deep voice murmured, far too close to your ear for your liking.

You practically hissed and took a very purposeful step away. “Jesus, Harry.”

He laughed, but the sound wasn’t spiteful like it usually would be. “Only you could make ice cream seem rubbish.”

“I don’t think ice cream is rubbish,” Was your only retort. You just wished gluten free cones didn’t look so fucking sad.

The owner handed you your cone and you paid him in cash. “Do you have WiFi in here?”

“Sure. Password’s on the wall up there.” He pointed at a laminated sign, and then turned his attention to Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that guy?”

Your cue to leave.

While Harry had an awkward conversation with the parlour owner about which guy he was, you connected to the internet and took a seat on the patio outside with your back to the sun. A satisfied hum left you at the warmth on your skin. You concentrated on demolishing your ice cream before you made a mess of yourself.

Unfortunately, Harry decided today wasn’t the day he was going to leave you alone. He sat down opposite you with a three-flavour cone, the colours unsettlingly unnatural. He looked uncomfortable, and this time it wasn’t because of you.

“What on Earth is that?”

“This is a masterpiece.” At least he could still behave like an idiot even when he’d been ‘spotted’.

“It looks disgusting.”

You watched him with a deep-seated discomfort as he shamelessly licked around his cone. Unfiltered moans came out of his mouth, but you were certain he was acting up for your benefit.

“What flavours are they?” You just had to ask.

“Mint chocolate, bubblegum and ginger.”

“Ginger?” You almost choked on a hazelnut. “Sir, you have a serious problem.”

He laughed again, that same obnoxiously easy sound as before. “Did you just call me sir?”

“I did and I immediately regret it.”

He made a noise, an amused squeak of sorts. “Why did you look so horrified by yours, anyway?”

You shifted in your chair, having just popped the end of the cone in your mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the owner wasn’t listening, pleased to find him distracted by a large family. “The gluten free options for cones was utter shite.”

“How so?”

“Well, he only had one type, and it was poxy as shit.”

He snorted. “I thought it looked small. I don’t imagine it being a lot of fun.”

You were immediately reminded of the croissant he’d picked up for you. You knew that you needed to say thank you, even if it did feel like taking a punch in the gut. “Thank you for the pastry.”

He paused mid-lick as if you’d just spoken a foreign language. He looked ridiculous and almost child-like, green eyes wide and pupils so narrow thanks to the sun they were barely visible. He rescued a drip before he made a mess. “Welcome. How is your…” he tapped his temple.

“Yeah, better.”

“Good.”

You returned to silence, and you got busy looking for a new place to stay. The options were… lacking. You knew the decision to go away during the school holidays would be a silly one anyway, but you wanted the heat. You wanted a summer holiday. Not a cold and wet one. But at such late notice in an area with limited options to begin with, all that was really left were large houses for groups of ten or places miles and miles away that would cost yet more money to travel to. The only other thing you could think of was buying a tent and pitching up on a nearby campsite, but you fucking hated tents and camping.

As time wore on and Harry’s ice cream disappeared, you noticed him growing more restless. You glanced up a couple of times to find him with his head down, but you eventually figured out the source of his discomfort. He was shooting looks at something over your shoulder while constantly readjusting his ball cap.

You straightened in your seat and twisted yourself slightly to get a better look.

“Don’t turn around.” He muttered without looking at you.

You frowned. “Why?”

He never gave you an answer so you did it anyway. A couple of tables over someone was doing a very bad job at hiding their phone.

For God’s sake. 

“Do you want to swap seats?” You offered.

He gave you a startled look, and admittedly you were surprised at your own suggestion. “No.”

“You sure? The back of your head is way less appealing than the front of it.”

You could see the confusion spread across his face and you wished immediately that you could take your words back. He was too wound up to mention it now, but you knew he definitely would in the future.

“They’ve already got about fifteen minutes worth of pictures, there’s no point moving now.” He huffed and readjusted the hat on his head once more, eyes downcast.

You pursed your lips in thought. After a moment you readjusted your seat so that you were hopefully positioned right in the way. Harry gave you a blank look, eyes still darting to the people behind you.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not particularly.”

You knew what he meant. He shouldn’t have to leave just because other people didn’t know how to behave like normal human beings.

A minute later the table behind you stood and left, so something had at least worked.

“Thank you.” He said it so quietly you nearly missed it. “Your lack of subtlety was almost entertaining.”

You weren’t offended by that. You hadn’t meant to be subtle. “I know we don’t get on but I respect your privacy. You should’ve asked them to delete it.”

“Then it just makes me look like a prick.”

“But you are a prick.”

He broke into another laugh. That laugh that held no malice or spite. The one he’d only debuted today. Then he slid back to stoicism. “I’ll be all over the Daily Mail again tomorrow anyway.”

Something weird happened. Anger materialised in your chest, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling in the slightest. What was unusual was that it came on Harry’s behalf. Usually you felt this way because of Harry, not for him.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, Harry.”

“Not when you’re me, it isn’t.”

“It is when people don’t know how to set boundaries.”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.” He readjusted his cap again and sunk further into his seat. “Not the first time I’ve been spotted on holiday.”

“With a mystery woman, no less.”

He snorted. “Sorry in advance.”

“For what?”

“You’re about to become the most interesting person on the planet. I’d privatise your Instagram.”

“It already is. Nor is it very interesting.”

“Just… I don’t know. I know what they’re like.”

“You think I give a shit what a bunch of people on the internet think about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Have I ever given a shit what anyone else has thought about me?”

He tipped his head. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s their boundaries I’m worried about.”

“Don’t be. If those pictures do make it anywhere, I’ll have no problem telling the next person to fuck off if it comes to it.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “Then I really hope for their sake that there isn’t a next time.”

~

You hadn’t left the parlour until you’d come up with a solution to your living arrangement. It took longer than you’d like, but eventually you settled for the only option; in two weeks you’d let Harry have the cabin and move into an AirBnB a few towns over. A bungalow this time with a very big bed. You’d had to fork out a deposit since it was a booking of more than 7 nights, which put another lovely dent in your bank balance. You were really trying not to think about it. 

Harry hadn’t passed comment when you told him. He just gave a blank stare and a curt nod, which was very unlike him. When it came to you, he’d never had any problem parting with his opinions.

You’d been ambushed on your way back to the cabin by your brother and Holly. After changing and freshening up you all walked down to the pub together to meet Holly’s Nanna. You had met her at the wedding but only briefly. Your brother and Holly’s special day had been somewhat dampened by the fact that Harry materialised again whenever you forgot about him and ended up drinking yourself into an early bedtime. The next morning you were rewarded with the worst hangover of your entire life.

Nanna was amazing. One of those larger than life women who weren’t afraid to drop the c word a couple of times without so much as batting an eyelid, and using Malibu as an excuse for a good time. You’d been seated on a round table which relieved you to no end. You were sandwiched between Nanna and your brother which meant there was a decent amount of distance between you and Harry.

“I need you to tell me something.” Nanna patted your arm, giving you her full attention.

It was like being addressed by royalty. “Anything.”

“I hear there’s a story about your brother involving nappies and toothpaste. A serial offence. He won’t tell me and Holly conveniently doesn’t know about it.”

You gave your brother a look.

“Please don’t.” He begged.

“But Nanna asked so nicely.”

“You’re about to embarrass me in front of the man I work for?”

You don’t look at Harry. “It’s not like you haven’t managed that all by yourself on previous occasions.”

“Yeah, don’t stop on my account.” Harry coughed, battling laughter.

“Great, we’re all on the same page.” You grinned. You turned back to Nanna, “Once upon a time, my little brother had to sleep in a crib and wear nappies just like all the other babies. He was cute, it should be said. I have a picture on my phone somewhere of him running around the garden with no clothes on.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and sunk into his seat with a scowl. Holly gave him a patronising pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway, beside the point. Like most toddlers he was an absolute tyrant, compared to me - I was an angel.”

“Hard to believe.” Harry muttered.

“Aye,” Nanna shot him a look. She’d been smitten with him all night until that point.

“Don’t worry about it - we’re in an ongoing feud.” You brushed the matter away and continued with your story. “During his reign of tyranny, he adopted a very obscure but passionate obsession with toothpaste. Colgate Cool Stripe only - no other product lived up to his expectations. It all started when, one day, our mother accidentally used adult toothpaste instead of the toddler stuff. An uphill battle began.

“Any time he had to clean his teeth, he’d try and use Colgate instead of the kiddy stuff, and mum or dad would fight with him until he surrendered in a screaming fit and had a toothbrush forced into his face hole.”

Someone sniggered, and your chest inflated. Making people laugh had always pleased you.

“His addiction got so bad, one night he managed to escape from his cot and into Mum and Dad’s bathroom. They found him on the floor with an empty tube and Colgate smushed all over his cute little face. Hours later he had a terrible accident. I won’t go into graphic detail since we’ve just had our dinner.”

Nanna started laughing, a throaty and hoarse sound. Given the amount of times she’d excused herself for a cigarette, you attributed that habit to the unique noise. “And this happened more than once?”

You nodded. “They tried locking it in the cabinet a few times, but he’d always find it. Eventually they changed tactics and just bought Aquafresh instead.”

Nanna hummed and gave him a pointed look. “I’ve always thought you were a picky bastard.”

“Nanna,” Holly gasped, shaking with laughter. She leaned her forehead against her husband’s shoulder.

“I can’t be that picky if I ended up with your granddaughter.”

Holly threw her hands up. “Does anyone else want to bully me today? Between that and being called very stupid I think I might have room for one more insult.”

“Your shoes don’t go with your dress.” Nanna said.

After a beat of silence, the table erupted into laughter.

The waiter returned to offer dessert, which you would usually forego since pubs rarely tended to offer gluten free choices without putting up a fight. You’d learned to live a sad, dessert-less existence. But everyone else was having one so you succumbed to peer pressure.

“What ice cream flavours do you have?”

“For the sundae?” The young girl asked with a confused frown.

“No, I’m coeliac so I can’t have it.”

“Oh,” her cheeks turned pink, which was not your intention, “sorry. Um, just the usual flavours, then.”

Neopolitan.

“Great, can I have two scoops of chocolate.”

“Sure.”

She was very quick to hurry off. Something bothered you about that whole exchange but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Aren’t you bored of chocolate ice cream?” Harry asked, but he was fiddling with his napkin rather than looking at you.

“Never.”

Holly kicked his leg under the table but you pretended not to notice.

After the bill was settled, which Harry tried to sneak off and pay for without telling anyone, you bid goodbye to each other and sent your brother, Holly and Nanna off together in a taxi. The waitress hadn’t stopped giving you wary glances ever since you asked for ice cream, and you still couldn’t place what went wrong. You might have been a little short with her but it wasn’t meant with any malice.

It didn’t really dawn on you what was wrong until you were walking up the hill to the cabin with Harry.

A curdling feeling in your stomach had you feeling very queasy very quickly.

“Oh no.” You mumbled, keeping your gaze on the grass below you. Your vision swung and you struggled to keep your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, turning back to you. He’d been a couple of metres ahead of you for the entire walk so you didn’t have to force a conversation.

You sat down on the grass to keep yourself gravitated, but it was no good. You weren’t nauseous because you were dizzy, you were dizzy because you were sick.

You spent the next ten minutes vomiting into the bushes.

Harry had kept a relative distance from you while you were sick, only handing you a bottle of water when you seemed to give up the last of your stomach contents and take a big breath.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a cautious voice.

Unattractively, you swilled your mouth out and then necked the remaining contents of the bottle. “Yeah, fine.”

“What happened?”

“I think something went wrong at dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

You gave him a levelled look, trying to communicate with your eyes. It seemed like a ridiculous idea considering you could barely communicate together with words, let alone silent glances.

“Ah… did it say gluten free on the menu?”

You nodded.

“Did you tell them?”

You shook your head. Sometimes you liked to put faith in humanity and believe you’d be fine putting yourself in the hands of others. When you were dining with practical strangers, making a fuss about your condition made you feel like a twat, so you kept quiet about it. Now you wish you’d said something.

“Are you gonna make a complaint?”

You shook your head furiously and readjusted yourself to sit back on your arse rather than your knees. “Happens all the time, sadly.”

“That girl knew they’d fucked up, didn’t she?”

“You saw that?”

“I saw you looking at her a lot after the ice cream thing.”

You made a strange noise. “It is what it is. I don’t blame her for not saying anything. For all she knows I could be going home unscathed.”

“But you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m not into making a scene.”

“You could’ve been seriously ill.”

“I know that.”

“If you don’t tell them they fucked up, how are they going to know to stop it from happening to someone else in the future?”

You took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. You and Harry had made progress today, on some weird level, but this was not part of that progress. “Fine. I’ll do something about it tomorrow.”

“No you won’t.”

“Leave it alone, Harry!” You finally snapped. “How I handle my health issues is none of your fucking business, especially when you haven’t got a fucking clue what it’s like to have them. Just drop it.”

His jaw ticked. “Fine.”

He disappeared up the hill and into the cabin without so much as another word.

You collapsed onto your back and let a tight sob wrack through you.

You contemplated what the fuck you were doing. This holiday had been nothing but a shit show from start to day 2 and you didn’t want to do it anymore. You should’ve gone home this morning. You’d refused to quit so early on given how long it had been since you had any real time off, but the universe was clearly working against you and you wished you hadn’t bothered.

As it always did, a second round of vomiting ensued, and you were back on your hands and knees hacking up bile while your stomach protested. You cried more as you threw up.

As the convulsions subsided you collapsed onto your back again, but the smell of it was starting to affect you. Slowly, you stood on shaky legs and attempted to make your way up to the cabin.

You hadn’t realised, but Harry was standing at the top of the hill wearing a frown, hands shoved into his pockets. When you caught sight of him you were ashamed. You knew what he’d said came from a good place, but it just really ground your gears when people who had no idea what it was like tried to tell you how to handle it.

He made his way back to you and silently placed his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and unfamiliar, but you couldn’t work out if the trembling from you was because of that or because you were just sick.

“How much more did you see?” You asked, helpless.

He gave you a startled look, like he was shocked to hear you so vulnerable. “Enough.”

You sighed and kept your gaze on the floor, trying not to fall over.

“Do you have any medication or anything?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t really work like that.”

Once you got to the cabin you headed straight for the bathroom and changed into your pyjamas. You then poured yourself a glass of water and took it to bed with you. You were asleep within seconds.

~

You slept through the night that night. When you woke you felt a shit-ton better than you had the night before, and it left you with a smile on your face. You wriggled your legs and toes underneath the sheets and stretched your arms.

You realised the bed was empty, but when you peeled an eye open it was obvious Harry had slept on his side at some point. You sat up to an empty room. There was no sign of Harry, again.

You didn’t know much about Harry’s daily routine but you would put money on him being an early morning runner. You shivered at the thought.

He appeared whilst you were in the middle of your second round of toast. It was the only thing you could think to try and stomach after yesterday’s disaster. Harry was in regular clothes, not running attire. You owed yourself a fiver.

“Ah,” he paused at the sight of you eating toast, and limply lifted his hand. The same greasy brown paper bag rustled in his grip.

“Don’t be shy.” You patted the table after swallowing your mouthful. “I’ll still eat it.”

“You’re that hungry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re forced to empty your entire stomach contents.”

His nose wrinkled. “Right.”

You took a sip of coffee while he made himself comfortable in the seat opposite you. 

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I slept the night through and didn’t hit my head this morning which is a major improvement on yesterday.”

“That’s something. Do you feel right enough to go out?”

“If I weren’t on holiday I’d be right back to work, Harry. No rest for the wicked and all.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Okay. I was gonna go down to the lake… it’s really warm out.”

“Are you telling me, or is that an invitation?”

He picked his pastry apart. “Both? I don’t know, it might do you some good.”

Concern? From your nemesis? This was bad. “Oh, don’t go coy on me, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That’s more like it.”

His mouth lifted at the corner for the shortest fraction of a second.

“Is it pebbly or sandy?”

An olive branch.

“Both?”

The worst kind of lake beach, then. “The type that calls for a special type of shoe.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“It’s fine. We make do.” You pronounced, and stood from the table with your dirty things. “Give me 20 minutes and we’ll go.”

~

“That alright?”

You peered up at the man blocking the sun with a pinched look. He stood before you in a faded white t-shirt and board shorts, holding an ice cream cone with a single chocolate scoop on top.

“As long as it’s the right cone, it’s perfect.”

“I double checked.” He promised as he handed it to you, and then sat with his own.

This was day four on the beach by the lake. While you and Harry spent the time there together, you did your own thing. He spent most of his time in the water like a fucking fish, and you spent yours on a towel with a book and enough food to feed the 5,000.

You’d found a tolerable medium with Harry. In the day you gave each other your needed space, and at night time you tried not to touch each other in bed. Or smother each other. So far it had worked well.

You hadn’t seen Holly or your brother since that night at dinner. They’d actually been visiting for a relative’s birthday party and had already gone home, leaving you and Harry to suffer together.

“I think you’re running low on your special bread.”

You snorted and covered your mouth. ‘Special bread’ made you sound like some kind of escaped lunatic.

“I don’t know why I said it like that.” Harry shook his head. “But the fact remains.”

“We’re running low on a lot.”

“Maybe we should go shopping.”

You groaned. This is what your life had come to: grocery shopping with a celebrity.

“I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

“Where even is the nearest supermarket?”

“I don’t know - I went shopping on the way here.”

“So did I.”

Has there ever been a more ridiculous conversation?

Harry found his phone and checked for signal, soon letting out a soft sigh. “Five weeks without WiFi was a stupid idea.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

You decided to check a map on the notice board outside the public toilets on the lake site and decided there must be a supermarket in the nearest town. Harry drove you out into the Scottish countryside following his sat-nav’s directions to the closest town.

It was a little odd being in the same car as him. While your brother’s work relationship and subsequent marriage had brought him into your life for many a family gathering, you’d never found yourself in quite such a confined space as this. Apart from the bed situation. You were certain he was being quiet on your behalf, because silence was better than small talk. The decision to go shopping had proven that much.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered the second you entered the supermarket.

You followed his nervous gaze to a man with a camera doing a shitty job at hiding. “Go back to the car if you want to.”

“Hardly fair.”

“Being uncomfortable isn’t fair.” You insisted. “Go take a drive and be back here in half an hour. I don’t mind.”

He sighed and handed you the list you’d prepared before leaving. “I’ll be back.”

“Yes, please don’t use this opportunity to abandon me here.”

He smirked. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” He took his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his card. “Use that.”

You frowned at it, and then him in turn. “I don’t mind paying for it.”

“Pay with my card and then send me half when you find signal or internet or whatever.” He turned away, but threw, “Half an hour,” over his shoulder.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself. Now you weren’t grocery shopping with a celebrity, you were using one’s credit card.

Before you started your shopping, you had one more thing you had to do. Stalking the man who was stalking your reluctant companion was easy because he didn’t try very hard to be subtle. You tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around with a bewildered look on his face. “Yes?”

“Delete them.”

~

True to his word, Harry returned half an hour later with a confusing smile. “Guess what I found.”

You let him take the bags out of your hands to shove them in the boot of his car. “What?”

“A fucking Costa.”

“No way…”

“Yes way.” He grinned.

“Where?”

“Literally around the corner.” He thumbed in that general direction. “I got two ‘cause I didn’t know which one you liked.”

“As long as it’s got coffee in it, I’ll consume it.”

Sure enough, two starkly different iced coffees sat in the cup holders in his central console. 

“Which one do you want?” You asked. He did buy them after all.

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

“Please pick one.”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“Fine.” He plucked one at random and started drinking as he pulled off. “Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.” And you meant it, too.

Silence settled between you again as you slurped away at your coffee. It was comfortable this time. You put the window down and stuck your arm out to feel the breeze through your fingers.

“Do you ever wonder how we got so…”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, but he never finished his sentence. “What?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh, come on, Harry.” You poked his arm. “You’ve never been one to mince your words in front of me before. Don’t start now.”

His lips twitched with a smile, but it was quickly replaced by something else. A kind of sad contemplation. “I don’t want to ruin a rare nice day.”

Now you were the one struggling to find words. Animosity was just the default practice for you and Harry when you were around each other. After so many years of battling over often ridiculous things, he was right. This was a rare nice day. You hadn’t argued once. Come to think of it, you hadn’t argued at all since the day you were sick. That little spat on the hill was the last one.

But curiosity ate away at you. What was he going to say that had the potential to ruin your good time? Knowing Harry, it could be any number of things.

“I promise I won’t lose my shit if you tell me.”

His face lit up with amusement, but he never laughed. “Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Right there, in that single moment, you were reminded just why the world had an obsession with the man sitting beside you. Even in the blandest setting, Harry Styles looked like the man who would promise you everything you’ve ever wanted and be able to deliver it to you. The man who held enough charisma both on and off stage for a hundred other men. The man with pretty eyes and pretty pink lips. The man who looked damn good whether he was clean-shaven or harbouring two weeks of scruff like he was now. The man who would spoil you to no end, who would give you a life of comfort and stability, who would drop everything at a second’s notice to be yours. Fuck, he looked like the man who might even die for you.

You’d seen Harry in love and the man gave his whole fucking heart and soul to the person he was with. His inherent attractiveness was just a bonus.

“Tell me, please.” You tried again.

He considered it for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. Eventually he sighed, “Do you ever wonder how things managed to get so bad? Between us?”

Ah.

A loaded question, indeed.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

He glanced your way, jaw suddenly tense. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t tend to wonder about it because I haven’t forgotten at all how we did.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the most honest woman I know.”

You were biding your time, mulling over your response. Perhaps this would ruin your nice day, but this was the most open conversation the two of you were ever going to have. Not talking about it would be both a missed opportunity and a disservice to yourself.

“Okay. You’re not going to like it, though.”

“I didn’t expect to.”

You took a deep breath. “The first time I met you didn’t go at all how I expected it to. In hindsight I guess, to you, I would’ve just been a footnote. Your friends have other friends you probably meet all the time and I was just one of the next hundred. Holly and my brother had only just started dating, but Holly and I got on so well we started doing things together as friends without him. She invited me to lunch with… you know, the usual suspects.”

He nodded once, slowly. The usual suspects he wasn’t speaking to anymore for various different reasons. You didn’t keep tabs on Harry’s life by choice, but Holly and the internet provided more about it than you cared for.

“Maybe you were just young. Or maybe there was something different that I just missed or didn’t understand, but you weren’t at all like I expected you to be. Everyone - my brother, Holly, my parents -, everyone said you were amazing. ‘The nicest boy you’ll ever meet’. And sure, you were nice. Charming, even. And you had everyone’s undivided attention, including Holly’s. And mine. But Holly’s more so.

“That girl loves you. And I watched her love you up close and personal and it was amazing and beautiful and I really wanted her to give just even a portion of that love to my brother. And she did, but it didn’t come without a fight.

“I didn’t care that you spent most of that lunch ignoring everyone else at the table. Or maybe I did. I just knew that you only cared about Holly’s undivided attention and she had no quarrels giving it to you. There was a time I thought you might be secretly in love with each other,” you laughed at the reminder because it seemed stupid now, “but when I brought it up with her she laughed so hard she cried and then pretended to vomit.”

“Damn,” Harry produced an offended laugh. “Didn’t know I was that repulsive.”

“Anyway, it didn’t stop her from loving you. Never has. Soon after, I spent a week with her and my brother in Spain on some all-inclusive thing. Before you ask, I was forced to go. Being a third-wheel is absolutely not my style.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think it sounded like you.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Anyway, I watched Holly send constant photos, messages, gifs, any and all digital media to you while we were on that holiday, cataloguing the entire thing. I don’t think you realise how many times I heard oh Harry’s gonna love this. But what got me is you never replying to her. Not once. Her phone screen was just a sea of blue messages against a backdrop of silence. At one point I considered she’d got the wrong number, but then you texted her the day we left with something really dull and generic and I really wanted to hit you.”

“I don’t remember this at all.” He admitted, face paled.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a busy man. I reminded myself of that a lot to start off with, but the whole thing became a recurring pattern. Maybe you think I’m stupid and it’s a bit of an overreaction for it, but I’m quite observant when I want to be. You’re Holly’s best friend, even if she’s not yours. Every time she says it, it’s like she’s been given the greatest gift in the entire world. And she’s such a bright, incredible person. She’s my best friend. Not just because she’s married to my brother, but because she’s the best person I’ve ever met and nothing will ever change that.

“Over the years I’ve watched countless messages and phone calls from her to you go unanswered, seen her face turn down with sadness when you don’t call her back or text out a reply. She deserves more than that. 

“I’ve noticed you do it to my brother, too. I know he works for you so maybe it’s not the same, but it’s safe to say that in their house, Harry Styles isn’t a name that lights up their phone screens very often. Ever.”

Harry fidgeted a little and cleared his throat. “All this time I thought I’d done something to you.”

“No. Worse. You continually managed to upset my best friend, even if you didn’t know it, and in turn you upset me.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to, Harry. She’ll never admit that she’s hurt by your silence because she doesn’t want to lose you. This is why we’re so very different. I don’t hang around for people who don’t appreciate the good they have in their life. I’m a good person, and Holly is an even better one. She deserves more than your attention when she’s only sat in front of you.”

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

His lips twitched again. “The next time I’m in the village with signal I’ll call her. Promise.”

“Don’t promise me. Promise yourself, and her. One day she might snap and decide she doesn’t want to wait for months at a time to hear from you. Because hearing about you through my brother doesn’t count.”

“I know. I get it, I really do…”

“Good. Now, my turn.” You let out a long breath and turned in your seat. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you-,”

“You called me both insufferable and intolerable in the space of five minutes when I got here.”

“Let me finish.” He said, exasperated. “I don’t hate you, I’m scared of you.”

“Calling someone intolerable because you’re scared of them doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. While perhaps you were right, at first I thought you were just another friend of a friend who’d made an appearance for uncertain reasons, it became apparent very quickly that you weren’t going anywhere. It also became very apparent that you were not my biggest fan. That first lunch was one of a kind because you barely said a word. Every other time after that, which I now realise happened to be family-oriented, you hardly shut up.

“I’ve always noticed it. You command the attention of everyone in the room. You’re a storyteller. You could turn an anecdote about a trip to the petrol station into a fairytale. You give everyone in the room your undivided attention, and when I realised you never gave it to me, well… safe to say I was wounded. Holly talked you up to high heaven. Your brother loves you. My own mother loves you even though we don’t get on.

“There’s something about you. And the fact that the only attention you ever gave me was a dirty look or a snippy remark made me petty. So I started giving it back, and I think the more I did it, the more I lost sight of the kind of person you actually are, because I only focused on the side you showed to me.”

He turned into the driveway of the cabin, and you thought he was done. But when the engine shut off, he said one last thing.

“In one of your many little outbursts you said I’ve got a severe case of oosoom syndrome. I never bothered to look it up because I didn’t want to know what kind of idiot you thought I was, but it’s just clicked.”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

He nodded and turned to you with a calm gaze. “I get it now.” He wasn’t just talking about the idiom.

“Good.”

~

The rain was back and heavier than ever. The ground surrounding the cabin was a swamp, the hill that led down to the village was indiscernible thanks to the downpour, and the day was dark and moody. Inside the cabin it was muggy and humid and you felt ridiculous sitting at the dining table in a vest and denim shorts, but you were.

Harry sitting opposite you looked more rugged than usual. His hair was pulled back with a clip, his stubble was shifting into a beard and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Hmm…” He gave an obnoxious tap on his chin.

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the seat. “Just put me out of my misery and show me your cards.”

He laughed, peering at you with a lightness in his eyes that was so unfamiliar it almost had you shell shocked. “Fine.” He placed his hand on the table showcasing his win.

It was day three of this charade. It hadn’t stopped raining and all you’d done was cycle between card games and Monopoly. He always won. You were so fed up of him winning that this was the last straw.

You stood and swiped his hand off the table so that they landed in a flurry on the wooden cabin floor. 

“Hey…” he pouted.

“That was childish of me, I’m sorry.” You groaned, and crouched down to pick them up. “I’m so bored, Harry. I think I’m going mad. We don’t even have a TV. We’re in the middle of nowhere with a pack of cards missing the Ace of Spades and Queen of Hearts and an old beat up Monopoly box with half the properties missing.”

He blinked at me. “I know this. I’ve been with you the whole time.”

“Sorry.” You muttered. “When I’m frustrated I just state the obvious.”

“But I thought that was my job.”

You rolled your head back and sighed at the ceiling. “I need to do something. Anything. I don’t want to sit in here anymore. I need air.”

“It’s pissing it down.”

“I’m aware. You have a car… just humour me for a bit. An hour tops.”

“You want me to drive you around for an hour? In a smaller space than we’re already in?”

“Okay, fine,” you sat back down in your chair and attempted to plead with the normal side of him, the non-celebrity side, “what if… when me and my brother were little and we went away with Mum and Dad, if the weather was crap like this we’d get in the car and drive to the nearest supermarket. And we’d have lunch in the cafe and then do a bit of shopping and then come back. And we’d all get one thing to bide the time before the weather got better again. Why don’t we do that?”

A smile was forming on his lips. “You want to try shopping with me again?”

“That prick and his fancy camera won’t be going back there, trust me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” You patted his hand. “Please, Harry. Rescue me from insanity.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

“Yay!” You stood and clapped your hands together. “I’m gonna change.”

Half an hour later you were back at the supermarket in the town over and ready to find as much new entertainment as possible.

“Do you think we should buy them a TV?” Harry contemplated aloud as he stood in front of a large flatscreen.

You gave him a scrutinous look. “And put it where?”

“Good point.” He sighed. “We’re missing Love Island.”

You barked a laugh and carried it down the aisle with you. “That is not what I expected you to mourn over.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

You found your way to the games and books. “Can we get a jigsaw puzzle?”

“Why are you asking me? Get whatever you want, mate.”

You perused the options with as much interest as a car fanatic in a vintage car garage. “Farmyard or harbour? Or circus? Or mountains?”

“Whichever will keep you occupied for the longest.” He said absently, moving down the aisle to the board games.

The circus one had the most pieces and highest level of difficulty, so you plucked the box off the shelf and followed after him. “Have they got the Game of Life?”

He started laughing but never answered you.

“Oh,” you pouted, tapping the spin-off version that was much shorter and way less entertaining.

“Bop-It?” 

“When I was little I completed that.”

He raised a brow at you. “Can you even complete Bop-It?”

“Yes,” you snatched the box off the shelf, “and I will prove it to you when we get back.”

“We’ll see about that.” He whispered, smirking. “We need an actual board game.”

You gazed over the options with the same level of interest as the jigsaws. “You choose. I’ve picked the last two.”

“Absolutely not, I’ll only pick wrong.”

“What’s your favourite?”

“Cluedo.”

“Then get Cluedo.” You pointed at it and walked away.

Two hours later and three books heavier you were back at the cabin and starting your jigsaw puzzle. You and Harry sat on your claimed sides of the table, box lid propped against the window and a selection of snacks between you.

“Where the fuck is the fourth corner?” You grumbled, digging through the box like a cat in a litter tray.

Harry glanced at the box lid, then at the jumbled selection of tiles, and plucked it out without hesitation. “There y’go.”

You blinked at him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” You pinched it from him and placed it in the relevant corner. “Thank you.”

“A compliment and gratitude? It is a good day.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I’m not very good at the splits.”

That made you laugh, right from the back of your throat. “Have you tried?”

“Many times.”

“For what purpose?”

“I had a thing for my yoga instructor once and she was convinced I could do it so I kept trying just to impress her.”

“My God, you are a sap.”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice to know you failed at something for such a pitiful reason.”

He gave you such a megawatt smile you had to look away. “I’m just like any other boy.”

“I can’t believe you had to try hard to impress anyone. It almost doesn’t seem natural.”

“You make me sound like a robot.”

“I don’t think you’re a robot. I just think sometimes things seem to come a little too easily to you. Skills. Work. Friends. Women. Probably men, too. Some of us have to try really hard to get those things.”

“You have friends. A good job. And I refuse to believe people aren’t interested in you… romantically.”

You lifted a brow at him. “Refuse?”

“Are they not?”

“Have you ever known me to be ‘romantically’ involved with anyone?”

“Yeah, that lad you took to your brother’s wedding.”

Colin.

“He’s gay.”

“Oh.” He scratched his nose. “I wondered why he kept eyeing up one of the groomsmen. Your cousin?”

“Also gay.”

“Have you never had a boyfriend?”

“Not since school, no.”

“Have you… are you… you know?”

You gave him another raised brow. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.”

“Just because I haven’t had relationships, doesn’t mean I’m a virgin, Harry.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “I think we’ve gone a bit off track here.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

He slotted a piece into place next to one of the corners. You slotted another one in after that. The pattern repeated itself, in silence, for the next twenty minutes.

“When do you go to your AirBnB?”

You met his gaze with a calm expression. “Six days. Five nights.”

“Okay.” He said as he stood. “Are you hungry enough for dinner yet?”

“If you are, we can eat.”

He gave a stiff nod. “Okay.”

~~~

Part 2

Talk to me?

[will80sbyers]

Do you still have the list of movies that inspired ST4? I had a picture of it but I lost it and I haven't been able to find it since. Please and thank you in advance.

Yep!

Long post warning lol

300

2001: A Space Odyssey

47 Meters Down: Uncaged

12 Monkeys

28 Days Later

13th Warrior

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls

Altered States

Amelie

American Sniper

Analyze This

Annihilation

Aristocats

Armageddon

Assassins Creed

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Arrival

Almost Famous

Batman Begins

Batman V. Superman

Basket Case

Battle at Big Rock

Beauty and the Beast

Beetlejuice

Behind Enemy Lines

Beverly Hills Cop

Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey

Billy Madison

Black Cauldron

Black Swan

Boondock Saints

Borat

Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Burn After Reading

Broken Arrow

Blade Runner

C.H.U.D

Con Air

Cast Away

Congo

Constantine

Children of Men

Cabin in the Woods

Crank

Casablanca

Carrie

Crimson Tide

Clueless

Dukes of Hazzard

Don’t Breathe

Death to Smoochy

Doom

Dark Knight

Dogma

Deep Blue Sea

Dreamcatcher

Drop Dead Fred

Die Hard

Die Hard 2

Die Hard 3

Don’s Plum

Dances with Wolves

Dumb and Dumber

Edward Scissorhands

Enter the Void

Ex Machina

Event Horizon

Emma (2020)

Forrest Gump

Fargo

Fisher King

Full Metal Jacket

Ferris Bueller

Fallen

Fugitive

Ghost

Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Ghostbusters

Good Fellas

Girl Interrupted

Godzilla: King of the Monsters

Get Out

Good Will Hunting

Hackers

High Fidelity

Hellraiser 1

Hellraiser 2

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Hidden

High School Musical

Hurt Locker

Heat

Hunger Games

Highlander

Hell or High Water

Home Alone

I am Legend

It’s a Wonderful Life

In Cold Blood

Inception

I am a Fugitive from Chain Gang

Inside Out

Island of Doctor Moreau

It Follows

Interview with a Vampire

Inner Space

Into the Spiderverse

Independence Day

Jupiter Ascending

John Carter of Mars

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

James Bond (All Movies)

Julie

Karate Kid

Knives Out

Kingsmen

Little Miss Sunshine

Labyrinth

Long Kiss Goodnight

Lost Boys

Leon: The Professional

Let the Right One In

Little Women (1994)

Mad Max: Fury Road

Magnolia

Men in Black

Mimic

Matrix

Misery

My Cousin Vinny

Mystic River

Minority Report

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Neverending Story

Never Been Kissed

No Country for Old Men

Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

North by Northwest

Open Water

Orange County

Oceans 8

Oceans 11

Oceans 12

One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Ordinary People

Paddington 2

Platoon

Pulp Fiction

Papillon

Pan’s Labyrinth

Pineapple Express

Peter Pan

Princess Bride

Paradise Lost

Primal Fear

Prisoners

Peter Jackson’s King Kong

Reservoir Dogs

Ravenous

Rushmore

Road Warrior

Rogue One

Reality Bites

Raider of the Lost Ark

Red Dragon

Robocop

Shooter

Sky High

Swingers

Sword in the Stone

Step Up 2

Spy Kids

Saving Private Ryan

Shape of Water

Swept Away

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

Superbad

Society

Swordfish

Stoker

Splice

Silence of the Lambs

Source Code

Sicario

Se7en

Starship Troopers

Scrooged

Splash

Silver Bullet

Speed

The Visit

The Italian Job

The Mask of Zorro

True Lies

The Blair Witch Project

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

Tangled

The Craft

The Guest

The Devil’s Advocate

The Graduate

The Prestige

The Rock

Titanic

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The Fly

Tombstone

The Mummy

The Guardian

The Goofy Movie

The Peanut Butter Solution

Toy Story 4

The Ring

The Crazies

The Mist

The Revenant

The Perfect Storm

The Shining

Terminator 2

The Truman Show

Temple of Doom

The Cell

To Kill a Mockingbird

Timeline

The Good Son

The Orphan

The Birdcage

The Green Mile

The Raid

The Cider House Rules

The Lighthouse

The Book of Henry

The A-Team

The Crow

The Terminal

Thor Ragnarok

Twister

The Descent

The Birds

Total Recall

The Natural

The Fifth Element

True Romance

Terminator: Dark Fate

The Hobbit Trilogy

Unforgiven

Unbreakable

Unleashed

Very Bad Things

Wayne’s World

What Women Want

War Dogs

Wedding Crashers

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

Welcome to the Dollhouse

Welcome to Marwen

Wet Hot American Summer

What Lies Beneath

What Dreams May Come

War Games

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Weird Science

Willow

Wizard of Oz

Wanted

Young Sherlock Holmes

You’ve Got Mail

Zodiac

Zoolander

[animasola86]

Just Breathe

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x gn!reader

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Fluff // Words: 3.1k // [READ ON AO3]

Warnings: Blood! Panic attacks! Mentions of murder/self-defence!

Synopsis: After clearing another poacher camp, you and Sebastian fall into a sticky situation that will leave you questioning your life choices.

“Let me see!”

As soon as the last poacher fell motionless to the ground, Sebastian hurried over to where you were crouched next to a broken crate, or rather in the middle of its remains. That last Depulso had thrown you all the way here and against the wall behind you, and while you could feel your head spinning from crashing through that wooden box, you hadn't even noticed the large gash on your forearm.

“It's fine, just a scratch, don't worry,” you told him and scrambled to your feet as he grabbed you by the elbow.

“That's an awful lot of blood for just a scratch,” he remarked and put his hand on the wound to stop said blood from spilling even more. “Drink a Wiggenweld, please,” he urged and motioned his head towards the shoulder bag he carried across his body.

You sighed and dove your free hand into it, only to freeze mid-motion. “There's only one left,” you said quietly and threw him a concerned gaze. “We should keep it, for more serious cases.”

You heard him issue a groan. “It's okay, we'll head back to the castle now anyway. Drink it,” he repeated, and his brown eyes bored into yours.

If Sebastian was one thing, he was persistent. And protective and stubborn and persuasive. Okay, he was a lot of things, and all of these made you falter in the end. Or maybe it was his eyes. Those damn puppy-dog eyes. They had convinced you to crash this poacher camp in the first place – despite there being way too many enemies and despite the remote location and the really not ideal duelling conditions.

After Rookwood's death and Harlow's arrest, poaching activities had gone down in the Highlands, yet they were never truly gone, they were only hiding better. And because he needed to fight something at least once a week that wasn't a training dummy, Sebastian had made it his new hobby to snoop out those hidden camps and then coerced you into helping him clearing them out.

Actually, you knew he would just go there alone if you wouldn't tag along and you wouldn't want him to get into trouble on his own, so you had made it your new hobby as well. Love could make you do the funniest things. And your love for him was beyond measure. One more reason why you uncorked the potion with your thumb and downed it in one big gulp, coughing against the bitter taste.

You then watched him take away his hand and luckily, the magic worked and you had stopped bleeding instantly. All that was left was the tear in your sleeve and the blood staining the fabric of your shirt. “Well done,” he praised you teasingly and leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips. You sighed playfully and smiled at him, pushing a stray strand of hair out of his forehead.

“Alright, let's leave,” you said then, but both of you remained close to each other for another moment, looking into the other's eyes, probably thinking about the things you would do once you were back at Hogwarts. You were opting for a hot bath, and he had his mind elsewhere as the little twinkle in his eyes told you. You knew you'd find a compromise somehow.

With a deep sigh, he then grabbed your hand and pulled you along through the ruins of the camp. It had taken you a while to find an entrance, and making your way back up to the top floor wouldn't be easy. But you kept going, as you always did.

Going on adventures with Sebastian had become something of a ritual to you over the last months, it had been your only way of occupying your busy minds – well, no, the second way – after spending almost every single minute together in bed.

Yet killing poachers was a new addition, and you still weren't sure if it was the best way of handling this. At first you were hellbent on knocking them unconscious to then deliver them to Officer Singer – but with the amount of Dark wizards still about, you knew the Auror wouldn't be able to handle all of those bad guys you would throw her way.

And when the first poacher's neck had snapped as you had smacked him into the ground with a well-timed Descendo, you hadn't even flinched. It wasn't your first murder anyway. Though you wouldn't call it murder. It was self-defence, you or them, a fight to the death, and you sure as hell weren't ready to step down just yet. It had been the same with Ranrok or Rookwood, you had to kill them in order to save yourself and all the others.

And now you did it for the beasts and the villagers and anyone else who wouldn't mind having a few less poachers and Dark wizards about. Those were your reasons and excuses to allow yourself to crash these camps and thin them out like you did, but you somehow knew that Sebastian had his own reasons. You never really talked about it, you didn't talk about quite a few things, and somehow it wasn't necessary.

He knew he could count on you being there for him and vice versa, and that was how you handled things, despite everything that had happened. Where others would have become estranged, you had only become closer, united under the tight embrace of death and destruction. And together you were unstoppable. You weren't even sure if you could handle anything like this on your own any more.

You were just traversing a long, narrow hallway covered in straw that seemed to be connecting the two parts of that old estate the poachers had made their camp in, when you looked around in confusion. “Did we really come through here?” you wondered and stopped walking for a moment.

Sebastian stopped as well and followed your gaze. “I think so...”

“Looks different,” you mused and raised your wand to cast Lumos, but the light didn't reach too far down the hallway. There were no windows, yet you knew night must have fallen while you had been fighting the bad guys.

“Let's just keep going,” he said quietly and squeezed your hand, before he shone the light of his own wand along the corridor and pulled you further.

Suddenly there was a sharp noise and then all hell broke loose. You heard the creaking and snapping of old wood, then you felt a tug on your wrist, and only then did you see the boy in front of you disappearing through a hole in the floor, his surprised yell echoing off the walls. It all happened so fast, you weren't even able to hold onto his hand. Somewhere below you, you heard more creaking and wood breaking, then a thudding and a low groan.

You fell to your knees immediately, shining your wand light down into the darkness. “Sebastian!” you called out, your voice breaking in sheer panic. It had taken you a moment to realize what had happened, but once it registered your heart was thundering and your breaths were shallow. “SEBASTIAN!”

“Here...” you heard a faint answer. You couldn't see him, and he sounded very strained. You felt your lips trembling as all the blood rushed from your face.

“Are you okay?” you asked, even though you were already imagining the worst.

“I... I don't know...” You heard it then. The pain in his voice. And it made your head spin and drown out anything else.

“I'm coming down! Don't move!” you called to him, before you looked around frantically. It took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize you were a wand carrier, and after you conjured a rope ladder and secured it to a sturdy looking metal hook in the wall, you climbed down into the darkness, the light of your wand swaying with every unsteady step.

Three or four metres down, you finally reached the bottom, and once you did, you shone your light around and saw him lying in a pile of broken wood and dented metal. You threw yourself to the ground in front of him, placing your wand next to you to grab his face with shaking hands.

“Sebastian?” you asked quietly. He had his eyes closed and was barely breathing and so pale, even his freckles seemed to have lost all colour and strength. His eyelids fluttered then and when he looked at you, he groaned.

Instead of saying anything, his eyes moved downwards, and then you saw it.

“No,” you whimpered helplessly and immediately pressed your hands around the metal stick poking out of his side. “No!” You didn't even notice your tears until they blurred your vision.

Breathing heavily, you tried to focus on what to do, how to help him, anything to distract you from your growing hysteria, but all your brain was producing were thoughts along the lines of I CAN'T LOSE HIM!, in that tone and voice, loud and overpowering, ever repeating.

“I can't lose you,” you voiced those words out loud eventually, then you felt his hand on yours.

“You won't,” he whispered, obviously pained as he stared at you, trying to stay awake.

You looked at him out of teary eyes, completely panicked and already overcome with grief, even though he was still with you. But just the thought of losing him rendered you completely helpless. Overwhelmed by your emotions, you just knelt in front of him, your hands around his wound, your mind showing you all the different scenarios and outcomes and futures without him. Your breaths were erratic, and you felt light-headed and completely out of your element.

“Tell me what to do,” you whined barely audible, tears streaming down your face while the blood rushed through your ears. Your lips were tingling and your chest hurt.

“Breathe,” he said and squeezed your hand lightly. “Just breathe.”

You stared at him, and his words confused you enough to actually do what he told you. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you slowly fought those noisy visions inside your head – and something else came through. Your survival instincts. You'd been injured before, as had he, even though never this severe, and somehow you had always made it through.

But as you went through the possibilities of what you could do, you thought back to the moment not so long ago when he had forced you to drink your last Wiggenweld potion. Suddenly the panic was back in full force. “No... Wiggenweld...” you croaked out and tried to think hard and past the ever growing doom inside your head.

“Listen to me,” you heard him say, his voice faint and his face even paler now. You bit your lip and looked at him. “You have to...” He groaned and closed his eyes for a moment, shifting on his bed of debris. “Pull the... rod out...” he went on, quietly, his pain evident in every syllable. “And then... use... a spell to stop... the bleeding...”

You stared at him and then at the metal object sticking out of him, focusing hard on his words and not on your panic. During his fall through the rotten floor boards, he must have landed directly on it and it went right through him, impaling his side. You couldn't see much, only the blood pooling around the wound, staining his white shirt. With shaking fingers you felt around his back for the end of the rod, but it kept on going and seemed to be lodged in the pile he was lying on.

“I... I don't think I can... pull it out...” you whispered, your hands now on either side of the metal staff, carefully supporting his body. At least it didn't seem to have hit any vital organs, but you couldn't be sure. You had zero anatomical knowledge in that regard, something your education at Hogwarts seriously lacked. “I... I have to... pull you off it,” you then concluded.

He groaned faintly and then groaned louder, when you started moving his shoulder forwards. “Use your... wand...”

Once again you had momentarily forgotten you could do magic now. Exhaling loudly, you nodded and grabbed your wand. But even when you cast Levioso on him and carefully lifted him off the debris, he was grunting and crying out in pain, and your heart almost couldn't take it. More tears flooded your eyes, and you had to really bite your lip as you continued levitating him onto a cleaner patch of the floor.

He had his hand on his stomach, but you could see the blood gushing out of his back now, the wound wide open without the object holding it together. You fell to your knees and put your wand to his body, racking your brain for the right spell. But then panic settled back in. “Which spell?” you shrieked helplessly, your wand hand shaking badly. You'd heard about the Muggle way of stopping bleeds, but you weren't sure he would like that very much. “Incendio? I could burn your wound shut...”

“No,” he groaned, clearly against it. “Use... Vulnera Sanentur. Say it three times... hold it over... the bleeding...” His voice was fading and so was he. He was as pale as the light shining from his wand that he had lost in the fall and dropped somewhere on the other side of the room. Blood was pouring past his fingers and quickly joined the deep red puddle beneath him. His breaths were as irregular as his heart as it pumped out gush after gush of more blood.

You frowned, swallowing hard at the sight of him. Then determination kicked in, and you held your wand over his wound, repeating the incantation he had just told you. Even in moments like this he was still able to teach you, and you didn't quite know how, but you managed to do it – the spell worked and you witnessed how the red vanished from his shirt and skin, either pulled from him or pushed back into him.

A strange noise of either relief or surprise escaped you as you noticed the more regular rising and falling of his chest. When you couldn't see any blood any more, you dropped your wand and felt around his stomach and back, but the wound was gone, only the ripped shirt remained. Taking a shuddering breath, you leaned closer and gently grabbed his face.

He winced, but then opened his eyes and looked at you, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Look who's worried now,” he whispered, and after the initial confusion, you let out a groan, before you dove in and pressed your lips to his. You felt his hand on your lower back as he kissed you back tentatively.

“I thought I'd lose you...” you breathed against his lips, before you lay down beside him, careful not to put your weight on his body. Despite the healed wounds, you didn't know if he was still hurting.

“You can't get rid of me that easily...” he replied quietly, his voice still strained, but slowly he regained his composure as he rolled onto his side, not without another grunt, but definitely more agile than only moments ago.

“I was so scared,” you admitted barely audible as you snuggled closer to him, your hands on his face again, gently caressing his cheeks. He didn't feel as cold any more.

“I know,” he whispered and pulled an arm around you. “I've never seen you this panicked before...”

“I even forgot how to do magic for a moment...” you said with a crooked smirk, forcing the dark thoughts away by making light of them.

He chuckled softly. “I noticed,” he teased. “I'm glad you remembered in the end.”

“How do you feel?” you asked then, watching him closely.

“Like I fell through a hole in the ground and was impaled by a metal rod?” he answered with a laugh. “No, I'm fine, don't worry,” he repeated your own words back to you, and despite your still shaking state, you remembered telling him almost the exact same just earlier. You felt his hand on your tear-soaked cheek. “You know I'm too stubborn to die.”

You inhaled sharply. “Don't even say that,” you whispered harshly. “I...”

Before you could voice all those emotions swirling through your clouded mind, he leaned in and kissed you softly, shutting up the doubts and fears, and you kissed him right back, sobbing softly as all the stress fell off your shoulders.

“You have to stop being so reckless,” you murmured against his mouth as you leaned back a little.

He leaned back more, staring at you with his eyebrows raised. “Reckless? I fell through a hole in the floor! I didn't actually plan that, you know?”

“But you keep looking for these camps, you keep finding something, someone to duel... to kill...” you whispered, wiping at your own cheeks as you watched him. He got a little too defensive there, you had to be careful now.

“And you don't?” he asked darkly.

“I'm here because of you...” you replied as calmly as possible. “I don't want you to get hurt!”

He scoffed and leaned back more, rolling onto his back. “We get hurt all the time...”

You propped yourself onto your elbow and looked at him, chewing on your tingling lips. “And is that really what we want?” you said quietly, before you took a deep shuddering breath. “If I learned anything today, then it's that I absolutely cannot lose you,” you went on, looking at him imploringly. “The thought alone drives me insane! I need you, Sebastian. Alive and well and... here, with me...”

He sat up slowly at your words, his eyes wandering over your face. “I am with you...” he replied eventually, his voice softer than before. “And I intend to stay for as long as you need me...”

You scrambled to your knees and closer to him. “I'll always need you,” you whispered, your heart thundering inside your chest.

He reached out a hand and gently caressed your wet cheek. “Then I'll stay with you... always...”

You leaned into his touch. “Promise?”

Pulling your face closer to him, he looked deep into your eyes. “Promise...”

“No more stunts? No more looking for trouble?” you asked gingerly, biting your lip.

He sighed, but gave you a crooked smirk at the same time. “If you insist...”

You wrapped your arms around his neck then, basically throwing yourself against him, no longer caring if he was still hurting. He seemed rather fine though. “I'm sure we'll find other ways to keep our minds off things...” you whispered with a smile as you brought your face closer to his, your nose nuzzling against his.

Sebastian laughed against you, his hands grabbing your waist demandingly. “Oh absolutely... wanna start right here?”

End notes: Look at that: no smut! (But open-ended, so sequel maybe?)

The metal rod impalement was borrowed from that scene in The Last of Us when Joel falls down a ledge and lands on something like that and I lost my absolute shit when I played that! It somehow came back to me today and I had to put it into good use with our beloved pixel boy.

(Btw, Joel was my first pixel man crush – until Naughty Dog killed him off so viciously (uh, spoilers? sorry...), my heart... but it was mended by someone else now and I am so glad!)

And that spell (Vulnera Sanentur) is the one Snape uses on Draco after Harry had hit him with Sectumsempra, and I am 100% sure Sebastian would know about it too.

[ FANFICTION MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

[mermaidsirennikita]

Hi there! I was just curious do you happen to know of any romance novels where the heroine is Scottish instead of the love interest? I’m Scottish and would love to like them but tbh a lot of the Scottish romances written by Americans give me the ick because of the trend of Scottish women being shunted to the side and portrayed as petty jealous bitches in comparison to the usually english or american heroine

Thanks for your help!

Yes, for sure! And I totally get what you're talking about. I'd love to have more Scottish heroines, personally. I don't really get why so many American writers do the "jealous Scottish witch" thing, because like...

A) we have no skin in the game as Americans for the English

B) if anything, a lot of Americans are of Scottish heritage lmao

Sooo I'd immediately recommend A Kingdom of Dreams by Judith McNaught if you're open to an old school. This one is kinda famous for its heroine, Jennifer, known as "the Merrick bitch". She's defiant and outspoken and never goes quietly, and I love her. You can definitely see the new ground she broke at the time. Her hero, Royce, is English—it's a medieval Scottish/English conflict book. So so good.

Jennifer Ashley's Mackenzie and McBrides series has a LOT of Scottish heroines, and I adore them. In this case, the heroes are also Scottish (a lot of these have Scottish heroes and heroines—I hope those might work too, so I'm including them for the sake of variety). In particular, I recommend:

The Many Sins of Lord Cameron—Ainsley is a Scottish heroine with a Scottish hero. She's a widow who had a brief encounter with the slutty, slutty widowed father to a teenager Lord Cameron, and now they're sort of brought together due to this zany plot where Queen Victoria is getting blackmailed and Ainsley (a lady in waiting to Victoria) sort of has to cover for her? The lady in waiting to Vicky thing can be a turnoff, but she's not on the page much and is presented in a very ambivalent manner (as opposed to a lot of historicals which present her positivel). She's basically there to give Cameron and Ainsley a reason to orbit around each other. They're HOOOOOT.

The Duke's Perfect Wife—One of my all time favorites. Hart is SCOOOOOOTTTIIIIIIIISH in her terms of his identity, but not in a traditional way? The Mackenzie have their title and are very Englishified on the surface, and Hart is actually planning on running for PM... IN ORDER TO DISMANTLE THE ENGLISH FROM THE INSIDE AND GET A FREE AND INDEPENDENT SCOTLAND. It's insane. But for real, I don't think Hart could deal with ending up with an Englishwoman and it's a part of his character lol. Fortunately, he never got over his very Scottish ex Eleanor, who dumped him and broke off their engagement years ago and is now back in his life as a roving girl reporter (by girl I mean she's def late twenties/early thirties and I love it) because someone is sending her nude photographs taken of Hart lol. This is a fabulous book and I have nooooo notes.

I belieeeeeve Rules for a Proper Governess has a Scottish heroine as well, Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage has an English heroine, and I'm not 100% sure where The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie is. Could go either way. Isabella being English is mentioned a lot, so I'm not sure if Beth is as well.

Monica McCarty's medieval Highland Guard series (aka: what if Robert the Bruce had a suicide squad?) has a lot of Scottish heroines! Even the ones who aren't on Robert the Bruce's side lol.

For sure Scottish:

The Chief—Very alpha leader hero, virgin heroine who's coerced by her father into trapping him into marriage, classic "cold man learns how to love" book.

The Ranger—Quiet hero with freakish sixth sense is behind enemy lines and undercover, but the enemy is another Scottish lord who's basically defected to work with the English (and he killed the hero's father). The heroine is that guy's daughter. Dun dun DUN.

The Viper—Sorta/kinda second chance between a dickish bitter hero who doesn't trust anyone and the woman he escorted as a part of the initial rebellion years ago, only for her to end up in the hands of the enemy in a CAGE for years. Now they're back in each other's orbits, and the beef is SO REAL and so is their desire to SMASH REAL HARD.

The Recruit—My favorite Highland Guard, a super slutty rakish one has a one night thing with a widow Robert actually wanted him to marry... But through a sequence of events, he didn't know it was her, he said something stupid, now she doesn't want to marry him, but ooooops about 4-5 months later they run into each other and he finds out she's pregnant and was totally planning on having the baby and hiding it from him, lmao. FORCED MARRIAGE A-GO!

They're all good, but of the ones I've read these are the top picks. Except for The Hawk, which I'd also highly recommend. However, that one has an Irish heroine.

Elisa Braden's Midnight in Scotland series has a couple Scottish heroines!

The Making of a Highlander—This has a Scottish heroine and an English hero. Everyone thinks she's crazy, and tbh she does talk to a ghost child a lot so... fair. But the ghost tells her to marry a lord so that he can be reincarnated as her baby, a lord's son (I'm serious) and she basically decides to use the English guy to My Fair Lady her while she prepares him for the Highland Games. It's so normal.

The Wickedness of a Highlander—The Scottish heroine was the sister of a previous big time villain (you don't have to read the previous book—they're good, but the two in between the above one and this one have English heroines) and she thinks the big, burly hero haaates her. And he kinda does? But he also wants her sO bad (the heroes in this book have a preternatural ability to immediately recognize their women, it's a Fated Mates vibe). She's in need of cash, so he takes her on as his "temporary" maid. But he has no intention of letting her go. It's very charming, very funny, and very OTT. This is one of my favorite Elisa Braden heroines, tbh. She's always like "Perhaps... I should have... dick....?" whenever there's a vague issue going on in her life.

The next book in the series is also clearly being set up, and whenever that happens the heroine is going to be Scottish.

Never Seduce a Scot by Maya Banks is a medieval with a Scottish hero and a Scottish heroine. They're sorta forced to marry to resolve a feud between their clans, but she doesn't speak and he thinks she has an intellectual disability and can't consent, so he assumes it'll be a marriage in name only. However, she's actually deaf and very much WANTS to consent lol. It's actually a very sweet, lovely romance (and I think it should be noted that the author's spouse is/was deaf, and she took his deafness into account when writing.

[scotianostra]

12th August 1332 saw the Battle of Dupplin Moor when Scots under Domhnall II, Earl of Mar are routed by Edward Balliol.

As battles go this was a disaster for the Scots fighting on behalf King David II, who was a child at the time. So what went wrong?

Looking at the figures Balliol’s army that included the disinherited and mercenaries from England and Wales, who really should have had no chance.

The numbers involved, as usual vary, some say there were about 5,000 Scots, but it is generally said that at least 15,000 were fighting for the Scottish King, son of Robert the Bruce, other sources put the number at up to 40,000. The usurper’s army has been put at around just 1500, they were outnumbered by 10 to 1.

After a skirmish at Kinghorn, where they landed, the Disinherited soon marched for Perth, to engage the smaller of two armies that were being mustered against them. A few miles to the south west of the town, on Dupplin Moor, a heavily outnumbered, mainly English force, destroyed the far larger Scottish army, using tactics that would make English armies a dominant force in Europe for the next hundred years. Edward III of England was using this as more or less a testing ground for his new highly disciplined bowmen that he “lent” Balliol.

The Scottish army under the experienced regent Donald of Mar was split into two divisions, most of whom were carrying the traditional Scottish long spear. The English adopted tactics they would put to good use in the decades after, , where the men-at-arms all dismounted and formed into lines to protect the ranks of Welsh mercenary longbowmen, on loan from Edward III. Since the Scots had the advantage of numbers and naturally wished to drive the invading force from Scottish soil, they attacked and charged Balliol's lines with the Highland charge, however they failed to break through and were pressed back; thus exposed on the field of battle they became targets for the longbowmen and the Scots were hit by the volleys of arrows sent in their direction. The second Scottish division was then ordered to attack and split into two columns and tried to outflank Balliol's force. This second charge got nowhere near Balliol's lines as they too were cut down by the volleys of arrows sent in their direction. Once the second charge had failed the Scots fell back in disarray, their retreat being hampered as they stumbled amongst the casualties already lying on the ground, making themselves even easier targets for the enemy longbows. The battle turned into a rout and according to one account the Scottish dead were said to he piled fifteen feet high whilst the English men-at-arms patiently waded through the battlefield finishing off any Scot that showed any signs of life. By the end of the battle the Scottish dead included the earl of Mar himself, the earl of Menteith and the earl of Moray, the High Chamberlain Alexander Fraser, eighteen other Scottish barons and at least 2,000 soldiers from the Scottish army. (Although estimates of the Scottish dead vary wildly and as high as ten or thirteen thousand in some cases.)

You know I like to delve into the chroniclers of the day, as close as we get to a newspaper in medieval times, and if you follow my posts you will also know that, much like today they were biased in there reports. The main English chronicle of the day was written by the Franciscan monks at Lanecrost.

Priory of Lanercostewas in northern English, in what is now Cumberland, it covers the history during the years 1201 to 1346. Not surprisingly the Monks were Pro-English, probably what we would call a headline nowadays the Monks reported that in Perthshire at the battle "A most marvellous thing happened that day..." The chronicler's definition of 'marvellous' might not be everyone's, as he was enthusing over the great piles of dead soldiers that lay on the field of Dupplin Moor - "the pile of dead rising up from the ground was more than a spear's length in height", drooled the chronicler, clearly experiencing a tight little thrill of ecstasy at the thought.

Another chronicler and historian John Capgrave wrote an account almost 200 years that would have been drawn from the more contemporary Lanecrost accounts and describes the carnage at Dupplin thus;

In this battle...more were slain by the Scots themselves than by the English. For rushing forward on each other, each crushed his neighbour, and for every one fallen there fell a second, and then a third fell, and those who were behind pressing forward and hastening to the fight, the whole army became a heap of the slain.

The true casualty figures will likely never be known, but it seems clear that the Scots casualties were in the thousands, while the Disinherited lost two knights and 33 squires. It was one of the worst defeats suffered by the Scots on home soil. Scottish casualties were divided between the large number that were killed in the main body of the fighting and those who were able to retreat and start to escape the battle.

Edward Balliol would eventually be sent scampering back to England, I have covered him in other posts throughout the year.

[storyboard-sketch]

Headcanons about Cult of the Lamb: Sheep Culture

Something that Lambert (aka the Cult Leader) never got the chance to learn as they were born in the age when sheep were already being hunted to the point all of them were in hiding and scattered. So much of this they never got to experience themself, but they remember that cooking was a big thing...all they had the chance to learn however was which grass was fireproof. That's the kind they use for making bowls while cooking for the cult and its something they teach their followers too.

Location:

The sheep herds used to be well known, spread out across the far north of the Lands of the Old Faith and often mingling with yaks, deer, skunks, goats, and rabbits that also dwelled in the Highlands and Cliffs.

Hierarchy

Contrary to popular belief the bellwether (lead sheep) was usually a ewe rather than a ram but if one proved themselves capable, gender wasn't a factor in leadership. What mattered most was the ability to sense danger long before anyone else and know how to handle it calmly and swiftly.

Rams were often seen moving about supplies or working as guards around the fields. It was once very simple to spot the emissaries of the Old Faith trying to approach and swift to deal with them. While the sheep were on the plains they were safe...or so they thought.

Ewes did various chores across the villages, from humble crop tending to going out on trading missions with other villages. The ewes were very adaptable and would even take shifts for the guard rams when needed.

Yearlings were what the sheep called teenagers, rambunctious and energetic...they were tasked with learning what herbal magic the sheep elder yows knew. Tempering their attitudes and forcing them to learn patience.

Culture

Song and dance were indeed a big part of sheep culture. Not because the sheep were without concerns but because they were intelligent enough to know how dangerous their home was. Rather than live in fear, the sheep learned to take each day as a gift and celebrate it. For they may not be here for tomorrow.

Talented with herbal magics, even more so than Leshy's or Kalamar's followers. The sheep often used harmless enchanted meals to change their wool patterns and colors. Like dying your hair, the effect wears off after somewhere between a week and a month depending on how strong the enchantment is.

They could also create powerful healing potions to swiftly heal docked tails or missing limbs taken by battle. Some say there was one potion that could completely regrow missing body parts...but that's just a legend. Right?

Sheep were vengeful by nature. Wrong one of them and the whole flock will remember. They memorize faces easily and make their own decisions about who to trust and who not to. There are stories of some that headbutt their enemies straight off of cliffs.

They made it very difficult for the wolf tribe to hunt them as the centuries continued, but this resulted in them becoming like fish in a barrel for the Bishops. As they built their villages to be well fortified with tall dried briar walls and homes in the center... it was easy to burn them out.

A lamb's fleece (or poncho) was usually sewn by relatives while they were young and their bell was given to them when they came of age. Fleeces were meant to represent both family connection and their personalities. To help identify all at a glance. The bell however was an alert system in case any of them got lost or were in trouble. Later...these things became heirlooms as sheep became more and more rare.

Food

While mostly vegetarian, some members of the sheep did have carnivorous traits due to heritage (on this island who knows what can happen?) and thus were able to farm squirrels and birds for food on top of their regular farms.

Baking was a big deal for sheep, nothing like a warm fresh baked roll with honey to help after a bad day. Or coming home to a sweet cake to celebrate their hard work all month. It was a reward, flour took a long time to make and sugar hard to harvest... so baked goods were saved for special occasions.

The crop for the highlands was sugarcane, when the sheep were lost the plants were too. No one knows where to find any these days.

[breannasfluff]

Last Day

If I knew this was going to happen, I would have woken up earlier. I wouldn’t have slept in and I wouldn’t have been late packing. I would have cooked wildberry crepes for breakfast and I wouldn’t have pushed away Wind’s hug. 

I thought today…was supposed to be a nice day.

~~~

The enemy marked on the map isn’t a stone talus. It’s a white-maned Lynel and it greets them with a fireball that carves a path through the snow.

“Run!”

The group sprints and then scatters as arrows rain down from above.

“Shields!” Time yells, and the group scrambles to hold up protection. “Wild! Where can we go?”

Wild risks a glance behind him. The ground shudders with the thud of giant hooves. “I can take him?” It comes out as a question instead of a statement.

“No way, cub! You’re not taking that on without backup—duck!” Twilight nearly tackles Wild, pulling him out of the way of an arrow that hits his previous positions. “Better plan, get us out of here!”

Where can they go? The Gerudo Highlands are stepped with rocks, making it difficult to descend quickly. There’s little out here except the Yiga Hideout—

Wild abruptly changes directions. “Follow me!” It’s not close; not close enough for peace of mind, but it's closer than anything else out here. The lynel will let them go if they can get out of its sight.

The group trails after Wild, scrambling to accommodate the change of direction and still avoid arrows. Then they’re slipping and sliding down the first slope; snow cushioning the landing.

An arrow lands on the short plateau; still too close. “Keep going! Time!”

The last is because the old man has paused by Four, who’s swaying. An arrow is stuck in the shoulder of the tunic and, while it stopped the worst of the damage, when Time pulls it free it comes out red.

Wild curses, pausing to pull out his bow and shoot back at the lynel. It won’t be enough to take it down, but enough to distract it, at least.

Then Legend’s there, yanking on his arm and nearly ruining the shot. “Wild! You’re the only one who knows where we’re going!”

Torn, Wild glances at the lynel and then over his shoulder. “We’re heading to the Yiga hideout!” He lets off another arrow, then spins to wave a hand in the right direction. “We’ve got to descend a few more of these rock steps before we reach it!”

Legend yanks until he starts moving. “Then lead! The rest of us can watch for the others.”

Wild starts moving.

The next few minutes are a blur of calls and shouts, scrambling feet, and cold rock under his fingertips. They bunch up at one part, needing those with hookshots to anchor themselves and descend with another. Sky can use his cape and Wind pulls out a Deku leaf.

Unfortunately, the pause means the lynel catches up again and an arrow catches Warriors in the back of the thigh. He grunts but doesn’t slow down.

They finally hit the ground, panting and limping, in some cases. Four moans, sliding to the ground. Hyrule rushes to his side, wrestling with the Snowquill armor to check his wound. Warriors grimaces as Time pokes lightly at his wound, checking the arrow.

“I can pull it out, but it’s going to hurt. I’ve got a potion, though.”

“When don’t arrow wounds hurt,” he grumbles back but accepts the bottle. Hyrule has Four covered.

“Wild?” Sky catches his eye. “You said something about a hideout?”

He nods, and signs because his chest is still heaving with exertion and adrenaline. ‘Yiga hideout. Well, an old one. I helped the Gerudo clear it out after the Calamity. We can rest there and be out of the cold before we figure out a plan forward.’

Time frowns, patting Warriors as he chugs the potion. “Are you sure it’s empty?”

Nodding, Wild manages a weak smile. ‘Very sure. Riju was motivated.’

“Well, that sounds like our best bet, so lead on.”

With a final deep breath to steady his heart, Wild turns to lead them further up the canyon.

“Isn’t Wild’s world exciting?” Wind pipes up.

“If you call near-death experiences exciting one more time, I’m going to re-screw your head on for you.”

Read the rest here!

[ross-hollander]

It was during the Jihad...

...that inter-'Mech comms were first conceived of as a weapon*. Blakist sermons, assorted threats, or just incredibly harsh noise would be broadcast on every unsecured channel. When encryption got better, the Jihadis resolved to advance their psychological warfare in turn, with weaponized comm systems like the "Chatterbox" and the "Segue" which physically planted comm-cracker devices on enemy 'Mechs to subject them to screeds of Jihadi doctrine or ear-splitting demands to eject, surrender or die.

This was going swimmingly until the battle-chatter logs leaked from a particular engagement where, after comm-cracking an Alliance Lance, the threats broadcast by the Jihadi forces were immediately drowned out by a tirade from the Lyrans of such ferocious vulgarity and graphic specificity that the better part of the Level II facing them either cut the link from their end, or in one pilot's case, retreated from the battlefield altogether.

That particular brand of psychological warfare never really regained its popularity afterwards.

(*The Highlanders' trademark leitmotif was never a formalized tactic, and therefore is not counted here.)

[restlessmaknae]

veritas vos liberabit // kim junseo

enemies to friends to lovers high school au with a murder mystery + “as far as i’m concerned, that never happened” + wei’s junseo

➳ Characters: high school student!Junseo x high school student!female reader/you

➳ Genre: enemies to friends to implied lovers, dark academia au, boarding school au, murder mystery

➳ Words: 1.8k

➳ Warning: mentions of murder, suicide, cheating (not on the main characters' part), money laundering, bullying

➳ A/N: This story was requested by the lovely @ishuayou for my request event. I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

➳ Masterlist for the request event

➳ WEi taglist: @dat-town, @hyu-won, @littlestartonightsposts, @ishuayou, @squiishymeow, @s00buwu

Non scholae sed vitae discimus

This was the motto of the boarding school you attended which means ‘we do not learn for school, but for life’, and more often than not, it proved to be true. In the treacherous hallways of the school, everyone was on their own. Even if certain students formed cliques, they were short-lived forms of alliance until one or more of them were accused of something scandalous. That’s how you had fallen out with two girls after your father - a politician in your home country - was rumoured to be cheating on your mother. You had ‘cheater’s daughter’ written all over your locker in permanent marker the day after the news had gotten out, and students had given you suspicious glances everywhere you had gone as if you had been the one cheating on someone.

Sadly though, you weren’t the only case of castaway isolation. It seemed as if it was a game by now, the target falling on a different pupil every other day. Since everyone came from a wealthy family, each and every one of you could be a target for something. Your father might have cheated on your mother, but one student’s cousin committed suicide and they started asking him if he was next; one student had a CEO as their father who was accused of money laundering; one student’s sister ended up in jail after breaking into a stranger’s house at midnight, drunk and high, and the list went on and on.

You did learn for life, after all. You learned that there were multiple ways one could humiliate another human being, and that you could never trust someone because they only had you in their favour until your picture perfect facade didn’t waver. Once it did, you were as easily disposable as a piece of trash.

That’s why you were wary to let Junseo in when he had first shown signs that he was different. When you had started attending the same school together, you had firmly told him that he shouldn’t speak to you because your families were rivals, so were you. They had both worked in the fashion industry, always coming in the worldwide sales neck-to-neck, and the Kims tried to uphold a perfect family image just like your family did so. You hated every second you had needed to work with him on an assignment, talk to him during Latin classes or sit beside him during modern literature classes.

However, he had been the one who had tried to clean the permanent marker off your locker that one time, and since you had told him to stay away from you, he had to do it out of the goodness of his heart. He had also been the one who had stood up for you when you had needed to go back home for a funeral, and some girls had accused you of going on a vacation during term time. He had been the one to buy you peppermint tea when you had been on your period and hadn’t been able to leave your room due to your cramps.

Little by little, the boy had managed to break down your walls, and if there was someone you would consider as your friend, it would be Kim Junseo himself.

Timendi causa nescire est

Ignorance is the cause of fear, that’s what Junseo told you when a dead body was found on school grounds, and the school committee presumed that it was due to suicide since it happened after midterms. Since the school was in the highlands, and had its own campus with a nursery, two grocery shops, one post office, a stationery shop and a special affairs office (which was supposed to be the closest thing to a disciplinary office), they never notified the police because the school said that it would handle everything by itself.

Besides, your boarding school was said to be an exemplary one, one of the best ones in the world, why would anyone assume anything other than suicide? The deceased student’s parents would most likely want to sweep the news under the rug anyway because suicide was seen as a sign of weakness, especially among your social circle. No one would dare to question what happened.

No one, but you and Junseo.

It’s because Hamin’s - the deceased student’s - locker was above Junseo’s, and on the day the news of his death came to light, Junseo slipped a piece of paper in front of you in a secluded corner of the school library. It read:

“As far as I’m concerned, that never happened.”

“It was tucked into the bottom of his locker, so when I opened mine, it fell out,” the boy explained, and you furrowed your eyebrows in question upon his words.

“Do you think someone had something on him?”

“Or he had something on someone else, and maybe they cornered him on the rooftop. I rather doubt Hamin would have jumped off himself,” he added contemplatively, and you had to give it to him that he was right. If there was anyone in your whole year who didn’t seem affected by the budding ground of hatred and humiliation that the whole school was about, it would be Hamin himself. He was always so carefree and chatty, and he hadn’t been the target of any bullying (a rare case), so he didn’t seem to have a reason to end his own life.

“Maybe you’re right. Hamin is a kind-hearted student,” you started, then corrected yourself after clearing your throat. “He was a kind-hearted student, but he had a loose mouth. Maybe he saw something that he shouldn’t have or knew too much, and it backfired,” you mused out loud, trying to keep your voice quiet in case there were other students around who could eavesdrop on your conversation. After all, you could never know at this school.

You exchanged a glance with Junseo, and you could immediately tell that he was thinking the same: you needed to investigate it or else, no one would do it. So you went up to check on the rooftop, but they closed down the entrance to the rooftop, so you could only peek above the tapes and fences, trying to see if anything was off about the place. Nothing seemed out of ordinary, but it didn’t mean that that was all that was to it.

So you kept up your suspicions, listening in on conversations that seemed relevant, examining students’ body language when Hamin’s death was brought up, and Junseo even tried matching the handwriting on the piece of paper he found to the ones he saw in the teachers’ office when he helped the English teacher correct some tests. At first, nothing seemed to work out, but then, the rooftop was open to the public again, and you found a lighter with ‘CY’ engraved into it.

Even though smoking was strictly prohibited on school grounds, everyone knew that there were students who smoked, and the teachers probably knew about it too, yet let it slide because you all came from wealthy families, and they were paid to teach you, paid a hefty amount on top of them. So they turned a blind eye to most, if not all, breaches.

“Choi Yoonsung?” You quirked an eyebrow in question, pondering whether there was anyone else with the same initials in your year. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he smoked. His family owns a tobacco company after all,” you noted, and even though you had not seen the said boy smoking, anything could happen here. Even a murder.

“I feel like we’re missing something here. Yoonsung couldn’t just throw Hamin over the edge because of his lighter,” Junseo mused out loud while turning the lighter in his hands as if it could help him put the pieces together. It didn’t, but it lit a spark that turned into a full-blown fire.

A wildfire that couldn’t be contained.

Veritas vitæ magistra

You never really believed in the saying that truth was the teacher of life because there were too many two-faced people in your social circle, too many lies and facades, and you could never know when someone was being genuine or they were merely playing their part in the grand charade of boarding school society.

Well, not until you had to discover the truth behind Hamin’s death yourself. It wasn’t easy, and it took you two almost a month to figure out, but when the truth came to light - all your proof put together into a folder and sent to both Hamin’s parents and the special affairs official -, there was no way to cover up anymore what happened.

What happened was that Yoonsung and Soomin had been going out together, but kept it a secret because Soomin had been forced to date a different boy (and keep it long distance while she was at the boarding school) for her family’s sake. Hamin had walked in on them kissing once but said nothing. Then, he had bumped into them on the rooftop that night, and made a joke about them being a power couple at school. Yoonsung had started threatening the boy while the cigarette was still hanging out of his mouth. When the cigarette’s light had gone out while they had been arguing, Yoonsung had tried to light it up again, but Hamin had tried to hold him back. That’s when the boy had pushed him so forcefully that he had managed to push Hamin over the edge of the rooftop. It had always been too short for someone as tall as Hamin, but it had never caused such a calamity before. However, it had been dark, Yoonsung and Soomin had been frustrated already, and the ground had been slippery because of the day’s rain accumulating on the rooftop and along its rails.

How did you come to the conclusion of all these? You had found the note Soomin had left in Hamin’s locker, identified that it belonged to her based on her handwriting, had found Yoonsung’s lighter on the rooftop, had overheard one of Soomin’s friends talking about the girl’s supposedly fake relationship with a foreigner boy outside of school, had stumbled upon a half-burnt picture of the two of them one day on the rooftop, and many more hints like that. It had not been easy, Yoonsung and Soomin had guarded their secret as if it had been their own child, but the truth always came to light.

Veritas vos liberabit was written over the door of the special affairs office that you walked out of with Junseo by your side, and when you looked at each other, you felt your shoulders drop in ease and your heart beating somewhat lighter. Maybe that’s why you let Junseo reach out to you and pull you towards himself, so you could rest your head on his shoulder while you were walking.

The truth will liberate you all.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think.

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for WEi or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[nazorneku]

as i mentioned before, these portrayal notes are based on what i gathered after playing CBT2— if there will be need to adjust specific aspects once the game will be launched and we will delve further into story than we were allowed before, i will do so goes without saying: any portrayal notes lifting will be met with hard block, 'cause im writing down my personal vision of this character and not creating a public manual

Will start with the most prevalent misconception 'bout this character, that makes me sigh every time people mention it in a serious discussion and then try to argue, obv lacking basic media literacy skills. Ji Yan is a human. Shocking, I know. He was born human and his awakening as resonator also was natural.

Resonator Ji Yan's Forte-Awakening was observed at the Yuanwang Camp located in Desorock Highland. This event was characterized by the accumulation of air currents around his body, forming a distinctive lance. Ji Yan bears a distinctive Tacet Mark situated atop his dorsal ridge. Post-Awakening observations found some growths that resemble Loong scale on his left jaw. No indications of progressive expansion have been detected.

He still has his mother. Completely and totally normal human being. Do not confuse this with him being chosen/appointed by an actual dragon, known as Sentinel Jue. Thank you. And if you will also do some math, he should be around 23.

Going further, I will mention that originally Ji Yan was a doctor and until recently I did not have a solid proof for my headcanon why he stopped. He gave up healing, 'cause he saw limitations in this method of saving people and saving lives, thus he became a soldier, so he could protect people and prevent all those injuries from happening in the first place.

The main story and his personal quest show different sides of his, BUT they are equally important to showcase who Ji Yan trully is as a person. As a general we see him reliable and confident, powerful and v skillful warrior, that literally can slice through hordes of enemies. It IS a very strong first impression that sticks with you, 'cause you know this person will be there to protect and defend, he WILL be the tip of the spear that he will launch at the enemy. He is a protector and a defender. BUT in his story we are given a glimpse of his vulnerable and human side, we witness his past and his regrets, his anger, his burden as a leader, that he NEVER made shown in any way or measure. He endured. Silently. I also rly loved that the story was focused on more dark aspects of war and battlefield such as morale, danger and death.

Next will be his voicelines and what additional info I could gather from the sources. He is calm and composed in general, he is v concentrated at all times, he is also prone to provide practical advice and reassurance. He displays a great sense of duty and responsibility, especially considering his role as general. He doesn't have any particular preferences in food, and due to military experience, recognizes its importance and does not squander it. Even despite his aversion towards Bittberries for their bitter taste. He endures unpleasant circumstances, handles things he dislikes with resilience and focuses on what is necessary.

Despite now being a general, Ji Yan still maintains a connection with his family's medical background, as he often discusses medical knowledge with his mother. His cherished item - gourd-shaped pill case indicates a softer, sentimental and more personal side of him.

His ideal and ultimate wish is the peaceful future where a general is no longer needed. And that rly shows him as such a selfless person.

There's also some details in character stories you unlock, when you raise his intimacy level:

The first story shows Ji Yan as a capable and decisive leader, willing to make difficult choices and lead by example. His resilience and strategic prowess make him a formidable force on the battlefield, earning him the respect and admiration of his comrades.

The second story shows Ji Yan beyond his image of general, providing insight on his internal struggles and unwavering commitment to his duty and the people.

The third story shows Ji Yan's two sides: a fierce fighter against enemies and a caring, attentive towards his comrades leader. He monitors the needs and well-being of his soldiers, intervening discreetly to provide support when it's most needed.

[racefortheironthrone]

Hey Maester Steven, sorry if you've already answered this and I just can't find it, but what would you sqy are the specialities of each region of Westeros when it comes to war? I have a general idea from the top of my head (like the Riverlands exceling in guerrilla warfare) but wanted to hear your thoughts in full.

I think I've talked about this here, but I'm happy to go into more detail. When it comes to regional specialties of warfare, in some cases it's easier to identify trends than others, but I'll try my best. (I'm also going to tag in @warsofasoiaf, because I'm pretty sure we've talked about it this quite a bit over the years.)

Keep in mind that we're talking about minor variations in Westerosi armies that all tend to have a mix of knights, infantrymen, and archers working together in a late medieval paradigm of warfare heavily based on the Wars of the Roses.

The North:

The North's speciality doesn't seem to be a particular kind of military unit, but rather a kind of unique elan: when we consider the campaigns of Roddy the Ruin (the Fishfeed, the Butcher's Ball, First Tumbleton, and Robb Stark (Whispering Wood, the Battle of the Camps, Oxcross), one of the common trends is that Northern armies often employ a strategy of unexpected reckless charges that rely on aggression and shock to panic the enemy.

Usually, this leads to an emphasis on Northern cavalry as the core of the Northern army, but we also see Northern infantry do the same thing at the Battle of the Green Fork. There are some tactical differences - Roddy tended to favor frontal assaults at the risk of heavy casualties, while Robb Stark favored the use of maneuver and ambush.

Here, I think the North's ferocious if somewhat ill-disciplined approach is evocative of the Highland charge and the way it absolutely devastated much larger, European-trained professional armies until the Battle of Culloden, when changes in bayonet technology and a shift in bayonet tactics to solve the problem of the Highland targe.

The Vale:

We haven't seen the army of the Vale in operation, so we can't really talk about a specialty. However, it's worth noting that repeatedly in the text, the Vale's army is referred to as "the knights of the Vale," so that fits with their general tendency to cultural traditionalism.

The Ironborn:

Essentially equivalent to historical Vikingers, they're very good at naval warfare, marine operations, and ambushes on relatively undefended targets. They make up for the generally smaller size of their ships through the use of misdirection and distraction.

On land, they fight in (somewhat outdated) infantry shieldwalls and are heavily hampered by their total lack of cavalry, and their relative lack of archers. Moreover, they have no experience of fighting cavalry and tend to break in the face of a cavalry charge. They're pretty poor fighters on land, to be honest.

The Riverlands:

As we see both in the Dance of the Dragons and the War of Five Kings, the Riverlands has a historic tendency of constantly being invaded by all its many neighbors. While they often come out on the losing end, they tend to be more successful when they eschew conventional medieval tactics and instead focus on guerilla warfare or defensive setpiece battles that emphasize the use of rivers as natural barriers.

The Westerlands:

Because they have the most money - which is quite reminiscent of the Burgundians - the Lannisters can field multiple large armies with lots of extremely well-trained and equipped soldiers: their melee infantry aren't spearmen but well-armored men-at-arms and well-disciplined pikemen, they have a lot of knights. However, Tywin also has a tendency to use various less-disciplined fighters - the mountain clans, free riders, and some very questionable choices in mercenary companies - as expendable raiders.

The Reach:

As the most populous region in Westeros, the Reach has the advantage of massive numbers - it's full army is 100,000 strong - which gives it the option of attacking from all directions in force, essentially have the luxury of not having to choose where to spend its resources.

Moreover, the Reach is known for its knights - although as noted in my coverage of ACOK, there's something very weird going on with the numbers of the Reach's cavalry, because it seems like it only has 20,000 knights, which seems rather low.

The Stormlands:

The Stormlands are known for their marcher lords, whose men are the best longbowmen in Westeros. They're also known for their castles, so I imagine the Storrmlands are particularly good at defensive siegecraft.

Dorne:

See here. The Dornish have their own entirely different tradition of warfare that bears almost no resemblance to the rest of Westeros, it's a mix of phalanx warfare, horse archers, and jinete light cavalry.

[shoukokunoaltairfans]

Even though the Empire had been soundly defeated at the battle of Plocnik, the fall of Gol's indirectly threatened the Empire's base in their capital. They changed their battle strategy to guerrilla warfare. The Balt Rhein forces no longer counterattacked. Instead, they took cover behind their fortified fortresses by taking advantage of the natural defences in the north of Balt. At the same time, they conducted reconnaissance and launched proradic attacks targeting enemy commanders directly. and this strategy was quite successful in inflicting temporary losses on the Turkish forces. In this case, Lelederik and Gralat, an heir to the Imperium throne as well as a commander who played a major role in the fall of Phoenicia, were the brains behind this strategy. 

on the 20th, Seker, 79 CTR. after spending several months of winter in Gol. and entering early spring, where the ice began to melt and the weather began to warm up. Mahmut Pasha, again began military operations targeting the north of Balt. This was to protect his rear position, so that he would not be stabbed in the back by either Balt Rhein or Hermann's forces. Mahmut Pasha reached Turbezzel and had little difficulty in conquering the town, as it was guarded by only a few thousand Balt Rhein troops and supported by the superiority of the siege cannons. Turbezzel surrendered, and opened its doors to the Turkiye forces. Mahmut Pasha made Turbezzel a temporary base for his military operations. 

3 days after the conquest of Turbezzel. Candarli Ibrahim Pasha moved northward and reached Vidin, the town at the end of the Danube River that formed the border between Balt Rhein and Wallachia, after a siege and continuous cannon and trebuchet shelling that destroyed its mediaeval fortifications. The count of the town raised the white flag and asked Ibrahim Pasha for security guarantees so that his troops would be ready to leave the town and surrender it voluntarily to the Turkiye. Vidin's troops then headed for Scheenestrum, where Lelederik and his men were based. 

Baba Vida, a fortress in the Balt Rhein-controlled town of Vidin, which bordered the Danube River and Wallachia.

Lelederik began to devise his next plan to trap the Turkiye troops. and he was convinced that the enemy troops would be heading for Schenestrum. For this, he decided to mobilise the famously tough Elvades Mountain troops, along with several thousand regular troops of the Empire, to hide in the bush or in the highlands. With a plan, he would have the troops move to surround Schenestrum. Then, when he was caught off guard, he would attack them, break through the troop formation, and behead their commander-in-chief. 

On the 25th, Mahmut Pasha travelled cautiously from Vidin to Scheenestrum due to the steep terrain. Upon arrival in front of the fortress, Mahmut had not yet installed his siege cannons and instead set up a tent while negotiating with the count of Scheneestrum, Wiilhelm Weissner. Mahmut was unaware that the fortress guards in the city were fewer than usual, and he did not realize that he and his troops had been set up by Lelederik. At night, Lelederik launched a blind attack without lighting torches, and the Turkiye troops attempted to repel it. However, the darkness of the night and fighting in low-light conditions caused the effort to fail. Elvadesberg's troops even managed to break through to Mahmut Pasha's main tent. Upon seeing this, Mahmut quickly emerged from his tent and set it ablaze to gain a clearer view of the enemy's position while withdrawing his troops. The Turkiye troops were defeated and decided to retreat to Vidin. In this battle, Hasan Ulubat and his younger brother Hussein died as martyrs, along with several thousand Janissary and Sipahi troops under their command, in order to protect the main troops. 

Schneesturm City

The morale of the Empire's troops was boosted by the defeat of the Turkiye Army at the hands of Lelederik, which demonstrated that the Turkiye Army could still be defeated. However, despite the victory, the Empire's troops were unable to launch a counterattack. Lelederik was also dissatisfied with the victory he had obtained at Scheneesturm and decided to launch a counterattack against the enemy troops. Despite the defeat at Schneestrum, Mahmut Pasha remained undeterred. In fact, he was even more determined to succeed and would not allow Lelederik a second chance. As a result, he mobilised a small army with the task of ambushing Lelederik and his men. If Lelederik was defeated and killed, it would demoralise the Imperium troops, making it easier for Mahmut Pasha to conquer Schneestrum.

On the other hand, Lelederik's skill made it difficult for Ishaq Pasha to face him. He was successfully cut by two slashes of Lelederik's knives. Lelederik insulted him, thinking that he had won and decided to lead his troops. However, unexpectedly Ishaq Pasha pounced on him from behind and stabbed him repeatedly. The deaths of Lelederik and Gralat really destroyed the morale of the Imperium troops.

The Imperial forces retreated to Schneestrum. Mahmud Pasha besieged the fortress on the 3rd of the month of Seker for three days, which ended in a Turkish victory. Wilhelm Weissner negotiated with Mahmud to surrender the city in exchange for the withdrawal of all his troops. The fall of Schneestrum was considered the greatest humiliation for the Balt Rhein. Refusing to retreat, Weissner was sentenced to death by Prime Minister Louis two days later.

Mahmud Pasha crossed the Elvadesberg mountains and began the Invasion of the Balt Territories.

Elvasdesberg Mountain

The deaths of Lelederik and Gralat paved the way for Mahmud Pasha to conquer further Balt territories. However, he had to face various natural obstacles, the Elvadedesberg Mountains. These mountains were still covered in snow even though spring had entered. In addition, the path that could be passed was very winding, prone to avalanches, and made supply lines difficult. This would be a challenge for the 40 thousand Turkish troops, 60 cannons, and 90 transport trains.

Mahmud Pasha decided to cross the road to Eascherung at an altitude of 3000 feet. Because this distance was the closest distance, entering the 9th, the first line troops led by Radu Bey and Bayazid Pasha began the climb. To prevent avalanches, they marched at midnight. With very strict silence. They covered a distance of 2 miles. and only took about an hour and a half to travel. However, due to the difficulty in transporting the cannons and the lack of wood that could be used as rolling wheels, Bayazid's troops were forced to start the battle without siege artillery. Fortunately, the Imperial forces had already been decimated, and at the insistence of the locals, they were forced to surrender. Eascherung submitted without a fight.

Despite the difficult terrain, Mahmud's main force was able to reach Eascherung in 2 days. But with great sacrifice, he was forced to leave more than 40 cannons in the rear line to reduce the burden of the climb. and many transport trains were left behind. for that, Era (Orban's daughter who joined the expedition) proposed to choose another route by using a lower climb and lifting the cannons and goods using a pulley designed by her father, thus speeding up the rate of supply mobilization.

Bayazid's troops continued to clean up the climbing path which was sometimes filled with Balt Rhain troops and then descended to Saint Simon on the banks of the Danube River. Bayazid Pasha attacked the Balt Rhain guard troops in the city by surprise. Even with makeshift siege cannons, his shots were able to destroy part of the city walls. With a short battle, the Balt Rhain troops surrendered on the 14th.

but the next challenge still awaits as the Turkish troops deepen into Elvadesberg. The Elvades Mountain Troops are still a frightening specter for the Turks. because of their guerrilla capabilities by hiding in the gaps of the mountain cliffs. this time with the leadership of Gorge Argile, along with 8000 of his troops came out of Ghilman, and were able to defeat the Turkish troops in the battle in the Maelnbron valley (22nd) near this city. however, the victory of the Elvasdesberg troops did not prevent the Mahmud Troops from capturing the Ghilman fortress (24th-25th) Gorge Argile decided to retreat to Shafina and Arima while providing logistical support to the Balt Rhein troops who were defending.

The leader of the Elvades mountain army, Gorge Argile.

The defense of Shafina and Arima was entrusted to Erden and Reiren Magendorf. The Imperial government had ordered both commanders to defend the two cities until the end. In the first three days, the Turkish army's attack on the Arima fortress which began on the 27th ended in failure. With 800 Janissaries as victims. Argile decided to go back out in the hope of seizing supplies and even Turkish artillery. However, this time Mahmud Pasha had learned from his strategic mistake in Maelnbron by forming Wagenfort, placing Musketeers, and archers to ward them off. As a result, Argile's attack proved to be a failure, and he was forced to return to the city fortress.

Mahmud Pasha could not be patient with the siege of the city. So he decided to advance with 20,000 troops with the remaining artillery to immediately besiege the Arima fortress. While the siege of the Shafina fortress was handed over to Bayazid Pasha. Within 4 days Mahmud Pasha was able to defeat Reiren and capture Arima even though he had fought with all his might. To deceive Mahmud, Reiren made a peace treaty, as a guarantee of security for his troops, so he came out and attacked Mahmud suddenly with his troops. But he himself was killed first. There was a brief battle around the city of Arima which Turkiye could easily win. Because the formation of the Balt Rhein troops was irregular. Angry at this betrayal, Mahmud chased the remaining Balt Rhein troops who tried to escape, were captured, and then executed.

The fall of Arima and the death of Reiren further depressed Eden Magendorf, coupled with the rapid unrest of the citizens and famine hit the city of Shafina. Although supported by thousands of guards and sufficient Elvades troops, the city's defenses were unable to withstand the onslaught of Turkish cannons that came crashing down. For that, they hoped to drive the enemy out of the city by holding a Guerrilla war. On the 6th, with the leadership of Gorge Argile, regular troops and Elvades launched a surprise attack in the middle of the night on the Turkish camps and managed to bring some enemy supplies. Angrily, Bayazid Pasha ordered a general attack on the fortress, hoping to immediately seize the city gates and enter. However, Eden and Argile and held the situation so that they were able to repel the Turkish troops and push them back. But other bad news came when Mahmud Pasha had come to surround the city from the south side. Another general attack was launched right at midnight entering the 8th to prevent guerrilla warfare operations by the enemy. The city walls began to collapse and fierce fighting broke out between the Turkiye Army and the Balt Rhain and Elvades troops inside the city. As the sun rose, most of the Balt Rhain troops admitted defeat, Eden and Argile with their remaining troops fled. The city of Shafina fell after being besieged for 10 or 11 days.

Eden Magendorf asked St. Michael for help to send troops to the Balts. However, no response was forthcoming. Having no choice, Eden and Gorge decided to fight the Turks alone. Their forces met at Tharza (Hali, 16th) and were soundly defeated and suffered heavy losses. (10,000 troops according to Hammer) In the battle, Eden was wounded and fell from his horse but managed to escape after changing his horse and disguising himself as a common soldier. While Gorge fell as a prisoner. According to Tucnhman's report, this battle was the end of Elvadesberg's resistance in the Balts.

According to Sukrullah Celebi's notes, Mahmud Pasha invited Gorge Argile to his camp. Mahmud Pasha convinced Argile to accept Islam and join his army, with his diplomatic skills and gentle and tolerant offers, making Argile feel flattered by his high respect and ethics. He converted to Islam, followed by all his men. Then he merged the Elvades army into the Turkiye army. He even participated in helping Mahmud in his conquest.

According to Warren Treadgold, despite these successful efforts, it is highly questionable the indifferent reaction of the Balt Rhain to the fall of their main cities to the Turks in the north, along with the joining of the elvades to their side. Eden Magendrof, desperate to seek help from the Empire. Fortunately, he still had the support of Count Cave and Count Jourdain, to launch a counterattack. Through the report of Goz Kulak, Mahmud Pasha decided to attack them first, in the next battle, at the city of Cave, the Balt Rhain troops tried to block the Turks through frontal warfare, but were defeated. They retreated to the fortress to defend. However, they did not have enough supplies. The city of Cave decided to surrender on the 19th. This surrender was strongly rejected by Eden and threatened Count Cave, St. Albans to kill him as a betrayal. The dispute escalated into a one-on-one duel which St. Albans won. After that, he faced Mahmud Pasha to surrender his city, even he decided to convert to Islam voluntarily, after Mahmud issued a decree to his troops not to loot city.

one by one the cities to the fortress in Balt were successfully controlled by Turkiye, but in the expedition to Jourdain on the 22nd, a fierce battle took place for 10 days. because of the tenacity of the fortress guard troops, and they were able to inflict losses and momentary defeats on Mahmud's troops, however, the city of Jourdain was successfully conquered by force. The Imperial troops thought that Mahmud would let them escape, but it turned out, Mahmud sent 300 Sipahi Cavalry to chase them to be captured as slaves.

Aftermath

Mahmud was content with the conquest of Jourdain, he did not even touch Novo Bordo or Smedrevo where the city was located in the lowlands and vulnerable to attack. Possibly, he wanted to rest his troops, he was also worried about the trap of the Balt Rhain troops that might have been prepared if he decided to leave Elvades, he preferred to secure the base behind him first. Besides, surprisingly, (in the memoirs he wrote) there was no significant resistance that he passed through in his operations in Balt, except for local initiatives such as Lelederik, Gralat, Argile, and Eden. Mahmud wrote a letter to Zaganos Pasha about his successful military career in Balt written in Poetic Couplets.

The Turkiye invasion of Balt and Elvades had a negative impact on the Empire. Several prominent advisors and commanders of the empire were disappointed with the neglect of Louis' ministers and King GoldeBalt himself. This neglect was inseparable from the emergence of external reactions in the form of new opposition parties opposing Louis' ministerial policies after the heavy defeat at Plocnik. According to Irene's notes, some ministers, troop commanders, and Hermanns actually rejected all of his policies. The Hermanns actually removed their proud badges and wandered as ordinary citizens in Balt, some settled in Rhein. (The definite answer to why there were no more Hermanns deployed by Balt Rhine after the defeat at Plocnik). Louis' ministers continued to enforce the policies of his pro-war faction by issuing new conscription decrees, even without hesitation sending troops to drag citizens into military service. However, this only added to the internal political chaos of the empire. In addition, dissatisfaction with the Empire in the South increased. which paved the way for the Turkiye Invasion of Rhein afterwards.

The direction of movement of Mahmud Pasha's troops, and his conquest of the Balt region and the Elvades mountains. (red arrow)

[highlander-732b]

[BattleTech Update] I never did post my King Crab and Marauder did I?

I should probably shoot some nice photos. Both are done, and I'm working on a Phoenix Hawk right now.

They are in my typical color scheme of a base white armor coat, grey accents, a red left shoulder/left torso, a yellow shoulder or upper arm, a red left knee or upper leg if reverse jointed (but not if digitigrade, digitigrade has special paneling dependant on mech sculpt), and special addons depending on how I'm feeling that day, like stripes, or a blue line on the right shoulder to denote a high rank command unit (highlander has this).

I think I want to ascribe this color scheme to Beckman's Bayonets, which are my silly OC guys created for a battletech campaign.

I finally have a name for the CO; Lucas Beckman, son of the previous leader, Kieran Beckman.

Their origin is being formerly Republic of the Sphere soldiers who did not retreat to Prefecture X in 3132. They are active as of 3151. They use all custom designs, which use a mixture of IS and Clan technologies.

Aside from my goober OC guys, I have made more financially irresponsible decisions and have purchased the Snord's Irregulars box, because I like the HGR Highlander and the alt pose Guillotine. Too bad there isn't an iHGR Highlander. I have attempted to make such a glorious mech, but giving it jump jets to allow it to perform the all-time classic Highlander Burial is a difficult task and a poor idea. You need a compact gyro and CASE II in your centre and side torso to make the iHGR fit with enough CASE II protected critslots to add Jump Jets in your torsos.

Weight-wise, this leaves you with no space for secondary weapons, as the jump jets weigh six tons.

You can make it work if you swap the secondary Gauss Rifle for an energy weapon, although this is inefficient because of the 270 rated engine. 270 engines can't fit extra heatsinks, so this causes problems with energy intensive secondary weapons like ER-PPCs and Improved Heavy Large Lasers requiring a large amount of extra space for heatsinks.

Anyway, the inspiration behind purchasing the Snord's Irregulars Box was mainly that I liked the frankenmech rifleman as a proxy for random enemies, the iHGR Highlander is cool, and the reposed Guillotine is very pretty. The Spartan is kinda just sitting there, but it is funny as a somewhat usable Charger-type guy. It can run up and punch things.

I'll try to post cool images this week, I swear.