#thank you for sending this ask. it means something that you value my friendship enough to want to know

[bismuth-209]

hiya! super weird question but if, let’s say hypothetically, one of your friends turned out to be - in a very literal sense - not the same person they were when you met them (in that they are in fact a system and the host you met originally is no longer around for whatever reason). would you be alright about that? would that make you feel differently about your friendship with this person? and can you tell that this is not actually that hypothetical?

(obviously i can’t stop you but for various reasons i would prefer it if you didn’t try to guess who sent this ask to you. thanks.)

hi! this sort of has happened to me twice

i used to have a friend, C for short, who actually already knew they were the host of a system. at some point though, someone who i believe at the time hadn't quite figured out he wasn't C, was like. hm i wanna change my name, suggestions?

and it turned out that was N, and C had retreated back into the mind a little. N is now the host, and i also know another headmate of theirs. don't fully remember what C is like at this point because i don't speak to them a lot but i can assure you i have no issues with N being here now

i also have an irl friend who's a system or something akin to it, and in the 2 or so months we've known eachother it's now happened twice that the friend i made got severely overwhelmed and needed to take a break and someone else took her place. i have been trying to be his friend too, they're incredibly different personality-wise, so it feels kinda strange sometimes, and i at times missed the friend i know better, but they needed their time away. i tried to treat the situation as having met through a mutual friend, who's gone away for now.

i have other friends who are systems too, and i try to learn a bit about how they specifically function and how they'd like to be treated by me. for example, some systems appreciate you asking about like "you're not the host rn right?" and some would rather you don't ask if they don't say. things like that

now to say things about you

i'd want to get to know you again, as you. i am guessing i've known y'all for a little while, considering how you're asking, so i think i think i know things about you that are no longer applicable. our friendship might change, but my friendships with different people are different. like, for example i have some friends i tend to make certain jokes around more, some friends i love coming to for advice, some friends i dm when i want to discuss a particular topic, you know. that might change with you. maybe we have a shared interest that i didn't have with your previous host

[obsoleteozymandias]

hello dearie, i saw your trade request. here's my info!

please do not match me with the first years. my info is as follows: pronouns: she/her/they/them personality indicators: intj 5w4 ; melancholic-choleric signs: pisces sun / taurus rising / taurus moon hogwarts house: ravenclaw alignment: neutral good alignment preferred gender to be matched with: male

personality: studious, business-minded, tech-savvy, a little bit of a perfectionist, highly values knowledge and intelligence, tends to overwork, stubbornly independent, calm and composed, intimidating at first glance (according to colleagues), reserved and extremely introverted, protective to loved ones, obedient and respectful to authorities but will not hesitate to call them out if necessary, blunt, idealistic, but ends up being a little pessimistic and/or realist when stressed, highly organised, loves to play video games or read and write books on spare time, passionate, drawn to mysterious, historical, gothic, and horror subjects

hobbies + likes: researching abandoned and haunted places, writing, reading, exams, stationery, business-related topics (esp finance), coffee shops, bookstores and libraries, electronic shops, technology, video games, dark royalty / dark academia aesthetic, classical literature, classical music, detective/crime/mystery/horror stories (esp. from 19th century), cats, history, listening and belting out to musicals when alone, greek mythology

dislikes: bugs, studying repetitive subjects without gaining new knowledge, failure to meet own expectations, unnecessary change

fashion choices: gothic, elegant, classic, vintage, and formal fashion styles

partner preference: someone gentle yet authoritative, smart/highly intelligent and has a lot of knowledge generally or on a certain subject

i think that's more than enough. that's all, thank you!

Here ya go! I hope you enoy this, and I’m very much looking forward to seeing what you have to say for mine! Feel free to send any more requests my way <3

== Twisted Wonderland ==>

I match you up with…

Idia Shroud

Pre-relationship:

Idia doesn’t truly get along with anyone well at first, let’s be honest. He’s reclusive, and although you’ve got a lot of shared interests, he can’t get over his fears of others, even if he does find you interesting.

I like the imagine in this case that you’d be sorted into Ignihyde, given your knowledge of technology. Maybe you’d even become the vice housewarden with your talent for staying calm and realistic. 

Either way, I think your mature attitude would mean he ends up relying on you quite a bit, and so he comes to trust you, although it’s a VERY long road to true friendship. 

When you do become better friends, he comes to appreciate your maturity, passion for knowledge, and your unique hobbies and interests. I think it would be cute to buy him some dark royalty clothes, and watch him flush when he changes into them for you. 

He challenges you in terms of intelligence and technology. He has fun coding challenges and creating problems for you both to solve. 

I think he falls for you long before he admits it, both to you and to himself. Your maturity, intelligence, and the ways which you both complement and yet contradict one another. 

What can I say, opposites attract!

Confession: 

He’s definitely confessing to you in person, even if he feels like he can’t do it. He knows that he needs to face his fears to be with you, and he knows that you bring out the best in him. 

He stutters and blushes his way through it, but he is earnest and speaks words of absolute adoration about you. 

Relationship:

I think you and Idia spend a lot of time alone together. You may sit in the same room and cuddle up close while playing separate games, but he’ll absolutely be placing sporadic kisses on you. 

If you ask, he’ll shower you with all his knowledge and trivia on anything. He’ll learn all of that for you! If you’re interested in something, he’ll go out of his way to learn about it so that you two can chat. 

He’ll want to spend every second of his waking hours with you, and all the sleeping ones dreaming of you. 

[sonxofxgondor]

Anonymous asked: Since you are the Boromir Blog, I’d humbly like to offer you my Boromir headcanon.

So, we all know that Faramir is the forgotten child. Nothing is ever good enough and Denethor doesn’t bat an eye at him unless he has something to complain about. Boromir is the absolute favorite. I have concluded that this means that Boromir is most definitely saddled with sky high expectations for everything he does. Faramir can’t do anything right, Boromir isn’t allowed to do anything wrong.

And this entire situation is worse since Boromir grew up in a period of heavy societal unrest. His country is falling apart at the seams and he is the one supposed to keep it together. This expectation has been put upon him since he was little too, so he probably has an extreme fear of failure. With their mother passing away and Denethor rather ignoring Faramir’s existence, a lot of the bonding and comfort tasks were probably shoved onto Boromir too.

Boromir has to be perfect at everything he does; the perfect brother, the perfect son, the perfect noble, the perfect soldier, the perfect protector, the perfect everything. Boromir is this (/\) close to burning out, but if he were to do that, countless of people would die. This man is ten minutes and some bad news away from collapsing on a good day, but nobody other than Faramir gets to notice because he has to keep everything up. If he doesn’t live up to Father’s expectations, he also can’t keep his ire away from Faramir. If he doesn’t live up to expectation, his people will lose their lives.

TLDR: I hc that Boromir was raised to be the ‘perfect older sibling’ type on steroids + the looming threat of his country collapsing. I think not enough people account for the fact that Denethor wouldn’t be good for his other son either, it just goes in the opposite direction than Faramir. I am so sorry for the rant, I just need someone to yap to.

Anonymous Messages!

AH! OKAY! Firstly, thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to message me, Nonnie! I know it might seem silly to say, but truly, it means the world to me that you feel comfortable to do so. Never apologize for sending something to me - I LOVE hearing your thoughts and opinions on things, whether it be of my own work or just the wonderfulness that is our beloved Steward-Prince. My inbox is ALWAYS open; I value your time and friendship beyond what words could express. I also want to say thank you for the lovely compliment! I only hope and pray that I do Boromir justice! Our dashing boy deserves nothing but the best - and I do hope that my writing continues to provide that for him and you.

Secondly, that headcanon SHOULD be solid canon, and no, I won't hear otherwise. More so seen in the movies than in the books, it's clear that Boromir feels to be under constant stress and pressure. Not solely from his position as steward-prince or as captain, but as brother and son, like you mentioned. Look, Denethor was obviously devastated after the death of his dear wife. He went mad with grief. He lost part of himself when she was gone; he'd never come to love again. HOWEVER. That doesn't make what he's done to his children alright or appropriate. Bouncing off of what you've said, I find that Boromir had to be more than just a brother-figure to Faramir. Both father and mother when he was only a boy, a protector and provider. Not that he would've minded much, though, for it's very obvious that he adores little brother and loves him more than, well, literally anything. I mean, heck, JRR makes a point about this in his OFFICIAL works.

But back to your point, 100% yes! It isn't that Boromir can't mess up, he isn't allowed to. No mistakes may be made. No time for accidents or imperfections - its the demands of both his father and his kingdom. Boromir, as you beautifully wrote, must be PERFECT in all ways. Naturally, I find him to be a people pleaser, too. He hates to see others upset. He'd do whatever he had to in order to make things better - even at the cost of his own happiness. Personally, I believe, Denethor trained him for such a role. Almost too good, Boromir, now as an adult, is unable to overcome this intense sense of perfectionism. It's why the ONE RING was able to manipulate him and drive him to near MURDER. Boromir fears to be imperfect, worries so greatly about letting others down. Sauron understood this and used this against our dearest man! Really, had it not been because of the Ring's influence, I do think that, eventually, we would have seen Boromir completely snap. Not violently, of course, but just be so overpowered by exhaustion and defeat. There's only so much a man can bear before he crumbles.

In all honesty, Boromir is someone who needs soft attention and kind words. He's carried an entire kingdom upon his shoulders, never been allowed to rest and actually take time to himself. Sure, Denethor favors him over Faramir, but have we ever seen Denethor actually be gentle to his eldest son? Least, when the years of boyhood were replaced by man? Congratulating your child over a victory against Orcish invaders is awesome and all, but sometimes, your child would like to be told that they are loved, also. I would NEVER say that Faramir deserved his treatment, but, consider Boromir for a moment. He's only seen as a soldier in his father's eyes, a physical pawn, someone who looks great and does well at his job. Do I think Denethor loves Boromir? Yes, I do. Do I think that he has said as much to him face-to-face, especially in recent? No, I don't. Much like we saw in the ROTK movie, Denethor loves Faramir but didn't say so, not even at the END. By the powers of his depression or the palantir regardless, Denethor doesn't see either of his sons as his babies, his little boys, the treasures born of his beloved wife.

Boromir and Faramir are means to an end for Denethor, though those ends fork onto two very different paths. Faramir is the son who can do all but right; Boromir can do all but wrong.

And no matter how you look at it, it's beyond heartbreaking!

[matthewkniesys]

"Being able to resolve actual arguments because they both value the friendship too much." With Cale please

I just made it platonic cause that was the easiest to write :)

You pause outside of Cale's front door. You two had fought yesterday and hadn't talked it out. You both ALWAYS make sure to talk it out. so what was different about this time?

Maybe it was the fact that both of you, but especially Cale, were tired after the avs game. Or maybe you just wanted to be petty. Or maybe it was because it was your first time fighting about a guy.

You and one of your friends had started going out a couple weeks ago and nothing was serious yet but you wanted to do something with him and Cale so they could start getting to know each other, because you think this guy could be something long term.

With one last deep breath you lift your hand up to Cale's front door and knock. You hear a muffled voice on the other side of door and soon it's opening and you're standing right in front of Cale

"Um, hey y/n. Come in? Want coffee or tea?"

With a weak smile you respond tea and go to sit at the island.

Cale puts the kettle on and then looks at you. "Listen y/n, I just want to tell you that I am really sorry for what happened last night. I know i overstepped my boundaries and that wasn't okay. I won't do it again."

"It's okay. I know you were just trying to protect me and you only want what's best for me. Plus I know you spent all night feeling like shit so I think you're off the hook."

"I mean you aren't wrong. I didn't really sleep last night but it's all good. I kinda deserved it. I know you really like this guy so if it means so much to you, I'll give my best effort to get to know him.' Cale smiles at you.

"Can I ask you something?" You question Cale, wanting to know the answer to the question that had been circling your mind since last night.

"Always. Ask me whatever you want?"

"Cale, do you like me as more than just a friend?"

"Y/n, no. I never have and probably never will. I just love you so much that I don't want you to get hurt but I'm not jealous."

You exhale the breath you've been holding in. "I'm glad, cause this would've been really awkward if you were in love with me. I'm really happy that we're good enough of friends that we can talk shit out when we get into an argument cause I really don't wanna lose you."

"I don't wanna lose you either y/n."

thanks for reading and keep sending in🫶

claire's prompt weekend

[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part One (Harry Styles)

a/n: oh my god i am sooo thankful for the love the masterlist got with just so little info about the story! it means so much to me and i really hope i won’t disappoint you with this story! i was planning to post the first part on tuesday but i got excited bc of all the feedback and reactions and decided to start earlier, so here it is, part one of TLABL, a story im kind of proud of and very happy to share! please drop by my ask box or leave your thoughts on the story, i would love to hear everything from you guys!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

“I hope you realize this holds nothing against you, we all love and appreciate you and your work, but we had to face some unexpected problems this past year.”

You sit in front of Claire, your boss completely dumbfounded, not even comprehending what she is saying completely. You came to work this morning absolutely oblivious that today is going to be your last day of work at the daycare you’ve been working at for over two years now.

“I’m sorry, but last time you let us in on the budget you didn’t bring up any complication that might have indicated someone could lose their job, so what possible problem could have come up so abruptly?” you ask with a shocked and nervous chuckle. Part of you kind of hopes this is just some stupid joke she is playing on you, but Claire is not one to make games out of such serious things. Letting out a tired sigh she pushes her reading glasses up to the top of her head into her carefully curled hair.

“Look, I’m really trying not to make a big deal out of it, but we had to make some cuts on the budget. The kitchen and gymnasium renovation was completely unplanned and it kicked us in the butt. We are making some changes about the groups this year and it was made that it can be solved with one less person on the team. I’m sorry it had to be you, but the decision had to be made.”

“But why me?” you press. “There are two people who have been working for a shorter period of time here, didn’t I earn your trust during my time here?”

“It’s not about that, Y/N,” Claire shakes her head.

“Then what is this about?”

“If you are so keen on knowing, we’ve… received a few… complaints.” Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, this is the first time you’re hearing about it.

“Complaints?”

“Yes. Some parents are not quite the fan of the kind of mentality you are using while teaching the kids.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling all the blood rushing out of your face. This is starting to get way too nasty. Claire pinches the bridge of her nose before leaning onto her desk, clasping her hands together.

“I know that you are quite the free spirit and want to teach the kids about openness and acceptance, but not everyone is as rainbow as you are. Some kids brought the word home about what kind of books you’ve been reading and we’ve gotten a few concerns about you basically promoting the LGBTQ community for the kids.”

“I’m not promoting, I’m trying to teach them to accept everyone just the way they are, how can that upset anyone?!”

“Well, it does. The committee had to make a decision on who we should let go and many agreed that it might be the safest decision to make it be… you.”

You’re about to faint. You are sure you are about to fall off this chair and just black out. How can someone get mad about you reading stories about acceptance and treating everyone equally? What kind of monster can see it as a bad thing? And now you are losing your job over such a stupid thing that you don’t even feel responsible for.

Though you’d love to stay and try to convince Claire to not let you go, you know the decision has been made and if you’re being honest, you don’t feel comfortable anymore working at a place where parents tell you off for teaching important values for their kids. Sadly, but you sign all paperwork about your immediate parting and you leave Claire’s office to pack your stuff.

“Miss Y/N! Miss Y/N!” Izzy, one of the sweetest girls in your group basically launches herself at you, smashing against your legs as she hugs you happily. “Do you want to see what I just painted?” She blinks up at you with her gorgeous green eyes and your heart breaks that you won’t get to see her again.

“Oh, Sweetie. I have to—you know what? Sure. Show me your painting,” you smile at her warmly. You can’t say no to her, not when this is the last time you get to see her.

As you’re cleaning out your locker in the break room, Heather walks in and stops in her tracks, seeing you with your gloomy face as you pack everything into a cardboard box.

“What the hell are you doing?” she questions right away. The two of you have known each other for years now, you did the same master’s programme and somehow ended up working here together, carrying on the friendship you’ve formed through your school years.

“I was… fired,” you sigh, wincing at the words.

“What?! Why?”

“Apparently, we are having some budget problems with all the renovations that was made recently and unbeknownst to me, some parents have been complaining about my openness with kids so I was the lucky one to part ways with.”

“That’s fucking bullshit! The kids adore you, how can someone complain about something like that?”

“Don’t know, ask them if you ever find out who they are,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the now empty locker closed. “I’m sorry we can’t carpool anymore,” you pout at her.

“No fucks given about that, what are you gonna do now?” she asks, seemingly very bummed at the news that you won’t be working at the same place now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess I’ll have to find something new if I don’t want to end up on the streets,” you mumble.

“Oh girl, I’m so sorry,” Heather sighs pulling you into a hug. “Why don’t we go out for drinks on Friday? Everything is on me!”

“Don’t act like I’m already broke, makes me feel like a loser.”

“Sorry,” she scowls. “Just want to brighten you up a little. Meet me at seven at that Mexican place, how does that sound?”

“Stuffing my face with nachos and tequila? Sounds like the best plan I could wish for.”

You waste no time arriving home after your worst day at work. You jump right into the job ads, looking for basically anything that might help you out of this impossible situation. Sending your resume to as many places as possible, you get a few callbacks the next few days, but you only make it to one interview on Friday and that doesn’t go well either. The man who calls in for an open position at a private kindergarten turns out to be a total snob and he doesn’t find your free spirit too fitting with the profile of his institution so you get rejected at the end of the interview.

You head out to meet Heather feeling like shit. You’ve been unemployed for four days, but it’s already breaking your spirits.

“You know what? Clair is a bitch for giving in to the complaints,” Heather slams her fourth shot glass on the table with a grimace. “She should have defended you!”

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to get into any disagreement. Some of the parents donate great amounts to the school and Claire would never risk losing that money,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, but she is being very… not inclusive,” she narrows her eyes. “Firing someone for teaching the kids openness? Bullshit.”

“I’m just sad I don’t get to see the kids anymore. They really grew close to my heart.”

“The little fuckers can be so damn cute, almost make me want to have one.” Heather sighs, downing another shot before pulling the nachos closer to her. You laugh at her vulgar reaction, she has always had quite a dirty mouth but somehow she controls herself well around the kids. “How has the job hunting been?”

“Horrible,” you growl in frustration. There are not many that offer a good paycheck and the few that does are these posh places that expect you to treat the kids like they are made out of gold which is ridiculous. That’s not how you raise a kid!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure something will come up soon. Why don’t you look into nanny jobs, have you thought about that?”

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, popping some chips into your mouth.

“A lot of people prefer having nannies for their little children, some even want them to move in. My brother’s ex-girlfriend was a live-in nanny for about two years and she earned a shit ton of money, because she didn’t have to pay rent and a good chunk of the food, because the parents just treated her like part of the family and bought groceries for five people instead of four.”

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of stuff.”

“What, earning money?” Heather scoffs.

“No, living with a stranger.”

“Most of the time the nanny gets like a separated place so it wouldn’t be that bad, but you know what’s good for you. It was just an idea,” she shrugs.

Soon enough you drop any work talk not wanting to ruin the mood. You enjoy some time away from the stress of job hunting and you’re just trying to have fun with your best friend. You start talking about nostalgic memories from college and end up looking up people you graduated with on social media, checking out what they’ve been up to in the past years.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the restroom quickly, watch out for my drink,” you announce pushing your drink closer to Heather as you head towards the restrooms.

There’s a bit of a line so you stand behind two girls chatting about some cute guy they just met and leaning against the wall you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the drinks hitting you in the head. You’re not used to drinking, haven’t really had the time to get drunk too much lately and it’s saddening to think that now that you’re unemployed, you could black out every day, you wouldn’t have anywhere to show up in the morning.

Getting deep in your thoughts you almost don’t even notice that your phone is buzzing in your pocket. When you finally realize you pull it out of your back pocket and look down at the unknown number with a scowl. You quickly leave your spot in the line and rush out to hear something as you answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time, I’m Harry Styles and I’m looking to talk to Y/N Y/L/N?” you hear a thick British accent on the other end of the line.

“This is her.”

“Great. Sorry for the late call, I’m Isabelle’s father.”

“Isabelle?” you ask in confusion, the names not really clicking in your head thanks to the shots you’ve been taking.

“Isabelle Styles? Izzy?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, yeah. Mr. Styles, what can I help you with?” you ask, not sure why Izzy’s dad would be calling you.

“Well I just recently learned from my daughter that you’re not working at the daycare any longer?” “Uh, yeah. Unfortunately I was fired this Monday…” you awkwardly answer.

“I’m sorry about that. Izzy has been really sad about it, I wanted to ask if you’ve found a new job already?”

“Not yet, I’ve been looking but I haven’t had much luck yet,” you confess.

“In that case I have an offer to make,” he firmly continues and you perk up at his words. “I’ve been thinking about pulling Izzy out of daycare, but I didn’t want to do it until I found someone to take good care of her. You’ve been her absolute favorite and she’s been devastated since you’ve been gone. If you’re up for a job of this kind, I would like to offer you a spot as Izzy’s nanny.”

“Oh!” is all you react, completely not expecting this call.

“I know there are a lot to discuss, but if you’re interested, I would be more than happy to have a chat with you sometime this weekend? To go over the details and see if we can make it work.”

“I, uh… Um, yeah. We can meet, that sounds good. When would it be good for you?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“That can work.”

“Amazing!” he beams. “I’ll send you the address through text if that’s alright for you.”

“Yeah, of course. When should I be there?”

“Would three o’clock suit you?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stunned at the turn of events.

“Great, thank you so much, and once again, sorry to bother you on your Friday evening. Looking forward to see you tomorrow!”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles, see you soon!”

You get back in line at the bathroom and then make your way back to the table where Heather gives you a puzzled look.

“Did you take a massive shit or something?” she jokes as you take your seat and stare back at her, still in shock.

“No, I had a very interesting call, actually.”

“With who?”

“Um, Izzy Styles’ dad just called and offered me a job as her nanny.”

Heather almost chokes on her drink, coughing at the news. You hand her a napkin as she dries her chin off from her cocktail.

“Harry Styles wants you to be the nanny of his daughter?” she gasps.

“You know Izzy’s dad?”

“Y/N, everyone knows him! He is the sexiest man to walk this planet and not to mention that he is like stupidly rich! Have you not seen him yet?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Izzy was picked up by an old woman most of the times, I guess I never worked when her dad came for her.”

“That explains why you’re not squirming already,” she scoffs. “That man is like… crazy hot, I’m telling you. I bumped into him one morning when I guess he was dropping Izzy off, the way he said ‘Pardon me, Darling’ made my knees shake,” she tells you, faking an accent that’s nowhere near what Mr. Styles sounded like on the phone.

“Well, I guess I’ll see him for myself. I’m meeting him tomorrow to discuss details,” you shrug and Heather slams her hand on the table.

“Oh my God! You’re gonna work for Harry Fucking Styles! Get ready because your panties will be soaking wet all the time,” she laughs like a hyena.

“Heather, stop!” you shake your head laughing too.

Following Mr. Styles’ call you decide to cut the night shorter than you intended, not wanting to look absolutely wasted when you meet him. Arriving home to your small, one bedroom apartment you take a quick shower before climbing to bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts. You told Heather you’re not willing to do the whole live-in nanny thing and Mr. Styles might not even want you to live with them, but now that the option is there, you realize it might not be the worst case scenario. Especially since you’re not really swimming in other job offers and you are in desperate need of anything at this point.

Despite having consumed quite some alcohol the previous night, you wake up at a reasonable hour in the morning, finding a text from Mr. Styles about the address you’d have to be going in the afternoon. You make a quick trip to the grocery store and do some chores before you start getting ready for the meeting. You opt for a simple black dress that reaches your knees and pair it with a little funkier, flower printed blazer to bring some color into the outfit.

Punching the address into the GPS you see that it’s taking you to the outer skirt of the city to the neighborhood that’s known to have some quite luxurious estates and you immediately think back to what Heather said about him being ridiculously rich. Driving down the streets in your old Volkswagen you couldn’t stand out more at a place where at least three cars park on the driveways and one of them is a Ferrari or a Porsche.

There’s a massive security gate under the address that’s your destination and it’s left open so you can pull up to the driveway easily. You park next to a fucking Tesla, finding it extremely funny to see your car next to it, but it is what it is. Walking up to the front door you ring the bell as you take a look at the house that can easily considered to be a mansion. Guessing from the outside there are at least about five bedrooms in it and you can only imagine what other luxurious units are squeezed into it.

Soon enough the front door opens and you find yourself staring back at a breathtakingly gorgeous man, wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black suit pants, his chocolate curls falling to his forehead as his emerald eyes fall on you, a warm smile tugging on his lips.

Shit. Heather was fucking right, you think to yourself swallowing hard.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s so nice to see you. I’m Harry, Izzy’s dad, come on in!” he invites you inside before a short handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Styles.”

“Please, just call me Harry. I don’t like formalities at home,” he asks you as the two of you walk further inside until you arrive to what looks like a living room, but it’s actually the size of your apartment.

“Only if you call me Y/N,” you smile at him and he nods right away.

“Miss Y/N!” you hear a small voice call out and turning around you see Izzy running down the hallway until she throws herself against your legs.

“Oh, hello Sunshine!” you hum, squatting down so you can hug her.

“I missed you!” she pouts, rubbing her eyes.

“I missed you too,” you smile at her, caressing her soft cheeks before standing up. An older lady walks in, the one you’ve seen picking up Izzy. She approaches you with a friendly smile as she extends a hand towards you.

“Hi, I’m Ruth, it’s nice to meet you.” “Y/N, nice to meet you too.”

“Ruth, would you take Izzy outside while I talk to Miss—erm, Y/N here?” Harry requests. Ruth nods and taking Izzy’s hand she lures her outside to look for ladybugs in the backyard and that immediately catches her attention. The two of them leave through the sliding door, giving you and Harry privacy.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestures towards the sectional couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you smile at him as he sits in an armchair across you.

The interior of the house is quite cozy, kind of modern with a hint of vintage touches that make it less rigid, a pop of color showing at most corners so it’s not too monochrome. You quite like it.

“Y/N, I once again apologize for calling you at such an inappropriate hour, but I often work late and I wanted to get in touch with you as soon as possible upon hearing the news.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

“Isabelle mentioned it to me on Thursday that the other workers told her you no longer work at the daycare so I asked around a little yesterday and was informed that they let you go earlier in the week.”

“It was quite sudden for me as well,” you chuckle lightly, feeling a little anxious to talk about it.

“I know it’s not too appropriate, but I asked why they chose you to part ways with and I have to say it’s outraging that some parents are so ignorant and wayward. I’m really sorry this had to be the reason out of everything.”

“Thank you.” It actually feels nice that he thinks the same, this whole firing was ridiculous and you were losing hope in humanity, but Harry is now very much restoring it.

“Let me walk you through what the situation is here and what I was thinking about.” You nod and listen carefully. “I’m president of a record label and it consumes most of my time, I sometimes work sixty hours a week which I know is not ideal and healthy and I’m trying to change it, but it’s not an easy situation. I thought that putting Izzy into daycare was a good idea, but it’s been getting harder to work around her schedule as a single parent with so much work on my hands. Ruth is a family friend who has been helping tremendously with Izzy, but she is not getting any younger and she would like to retire fully and spend more time with her own grandkids. So I’ve been thinking about hiring a nanny for Izzy and try to make her days work around mine while I’m able to do that. She is going to start preschool in little over a year and I want to spend as much time with her as possible, but it’s not easy when the schedule depends on an institution. When she told me about your firing I had the thought that you might be interested in taking the spot as her nanny. She is obsessed with you, wouldn’t stop talking about what you do every day, and I might have also looked into your professional background. I like what I’ve seen and I’m very much into the way you’ve been dealing with the kids at the daycare. Openness is really important and I want Izzy to grow up in an environment that teaches her about being equal and supportive towards each other. I would be more than happy if you’d be the one taking care of Izzy while I’m not available.”

To say the east you’re stunned at how forward and open he was about the offer and his compliment about your professional background is quite flattering. You can tell he is doing an amazing job at raising Izzy as an open and accepting human, she was always one of the nicest and sweetest kids who always made sure to include all her peers in the games you played. And it’s obvious Harry is not just being a hypocrite, his tattooed arm, painted nails and ring clad fingers are not quite what you’d traditionally imagine a man like him wear, but he does it well and clearly doesn’t give a fuck what others might think about it.

Harry continues with how much he thought you’d be earning for the job and you almost choke on your own saliva. It’s almost three times as much as you’ve been earning at the daycare and you’d be able to save a good chunk every month which is quite amazing.

“I have to ask, were you thinking about a situation where I live with you or I’d have to be coming here every day?”

“Well, essentially it would be the easiest for everyone if you moved in. I have plenty of rooms you could choose from and you’d have access to everything else as well, of course, including the home gym, the pool, the sauna and the entertainment room. But I understand if you are not willing to make that commitment. If you choose to live here you wouldn’t be charged anything, naturally.”

This actually sounds like a dream, moving into this luxury mansion from your cramped little apartment and being able to save the money you’ve been paying on rent.

“And what would be the time management? If I moved in it would easily make me fall into a habit of always working, which is not quite ideal,” you point it out.

“Of course,” he nods. “I like to take care of her morning routine so you’d have to start around nine when I leave to the office. If we can make this deal working I’d like her to start taking some extra classes during the day, moving her activities earlier in the day so her afternoons would be free. She takes piano lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays, a swimming instructor comes here on Thursdays and she is taking French lessons every Tuesday and Friday. Everything takes place here, I would reschedule her activities to take place between nine and twelve. You wouldn’t have to worry about her during those times. You’d cover lunch time and then the afternoons. I try to get home between four and six and just work from home if it’s possible so I can be around her. You’d have to only help out whenever I can’t make it home in time I have urgent works that have to be done from home. We could have dinner time together and then her night time routine is my duty again. Ruth is willing to help me out on Saturdays and I spend Sundays with her strictly without any work distraction so you’d have the weekends off unless something comes up. In those cases I would check in with you beforehand and arrange it however it works best for you.”

You’re speechless for a moment. What he just shared doesn’t seem too bad, you might have to work a lot more, but being one on one with just one kid is much easier than dealing with fifteen of them at once. Not to mention that the money is still amazing compared to what you’d have to be doing.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s an amazing offer. Izzy is such a sweet girl, I would be more than happy to take care of her.”

Harry smiles at you warmly, clearly proud of his daughter, as he should be.

“Can I ask for some time to think about it? It would be a huge commitment.” “Of course. Take your time and let me know whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you.”

Harry offers a quick tour in the house regardless, the kitchen is massive, they have a nice dining area with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the green slopes of the backyard that seems to be Izzy’s kingdom. She has a playhouse that could almost function as a real one, the pool is filled with floaties for her and she has her own playground further in the back with slides, monkey bars and a swing set. Your assumptions were almost right about the number of bedrooms. Beside Harry’s master and Izzy’s own room there’s one that’s been used by Ruth, one that’s for Harry’s mother and sister for whenever they are staying over and there are three additional rooms now serving as guest bedrooms, one of those would be turned into your room if you chose to move in. The gym seems better than the one you’ve been going whenever you felt like being a little active, the entertainment room has everything you could ever think about for a room this sort of and the sauna is already calling your name. Living and working here might actually feel like a vacation.

“Miss Y/N! Look what I found!” Izzy runs up to you when you and Harry step out to the backyard, holding her pointing finger up. A ladybug is wandering around her tiny finger, not even bothering with the amazed girl that’s inspecting it.

“Wow! How many dots do you see on it?” you ask and she knits her eyebrows together, counting the black dots.

“Five!”

“Yes, good job!” you ruffle her curls as she smiles up at you proudly. She really is an angel, you’ve grown to like her a lot and you would be lying if you said you didn’t get emotional over thinking about never seeing her again. Being able to take care of her and give her the best possible childhood would be such a dream and the chance to do that is right in front of you.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, Y/N,” Harry smiles at you walking you towards the front door.

“Harry, I don’t think you need to do that,” you speak up and see his face fall, he obviously took it the wrong way, thinking that you want to say no to his offer.

“Oh…”

“It’s not that,” you chuckle softly. “I would love to take the job. And if you’re still okay with that, I’d like to move in, it would make everything just so much easier.”

You watch as his expression changes from disappointed to hopeful as he cracks a smile nodding.

“Yeah, the offer is still there. When do you think you can start?”

“How soon do you want to pull Izzy out of daycare?”

“As soon as possible. If I have to I can go in on Monday and do all the paperwork. You could move in sometime during the week maybe?”

“I have to talk to my landlord about my lease, but I’m fine with moving in during the week,” you nod smiling and you can’t help but feel excited.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

You discuss a few more details and then you head out, thinking about how the next time you’ll be coming here, you’ll be moving in.

“If this one doesn’t go to the donate box, I’m leaving right now.”

Heather holds up a pair of denim shorts, painted in the colors of the flag of the States. She holds it pinched between her index finger and thumb as if it was something nasty and disgusting

“You know I only bought that for that stupid frat party. I never wore that anywhere else, so you can put it into the donate box.”

“Thank God!” she groans and throws the shorts into said box.

It’s Sunday evening and your place looks like a warzone, boxes taking up the place everywhere as you’re packing your life up to officially move into the Styles mansion. You agreed with Harry to bring over a good chunk of your stuff on Monday and then settle in for real on Tuesday. He is pulling Izzy out of daycare first thing on Monday and you’d stay at home with her for the first time on Wednesday. It’s been a fast paced change, but you couldn’t care less. With the amount Harry is gonna pay you, you’ll be able to save up a good chunk every month, like you always wanted to.

As you finish putting your books away you reach the shelves that contain all your photo albums. Photography has been your passion for a long time. It started as a simple hobby sometime through your freshman year in high school, but in senior year, your photos filled the yearbook and you even did the design of it too. You’ve had a few gigs since then, some weddings and pregnancy shoots and you like to sell your photos individually as well. You wouldn’t have imagined how much a simple nature photo costs.

Flipping through the one on the top, you can’t help the bitter smile on your face as you see the photos from your brother’s 14th birthday three years ago. There are tons of family pictures with you, your brother Trevor and your parents, seemingly being all happy and joyful. Things were different back then and you didn’t see anything coming.

It’s past midnight by the time you more or less finish packing, you’ve filled three big boxes with things to donate so you have significantly less stuff to move to the Styles mansion in the morning. Heather spends the night, but leaves early in the morning since she needs to go to work. The moving van you rented out arrives a little after eleven and the two guys from the moving company helps you load it with about two thirds of your stuff. Harry is at work when you arrive and Izzy is still at the daycare, Ruth is the only one at home, she helps you out even though you tell her not to break a sweat over it.

“Let me help, makes me feel needed,” she chuckles sweetly when you try to get her to stop, but she insists on bringing in some smaller bags and boxes.

You’re still unpacking when Ruth arrives back with Izzy a little after four. You hear her little feet tapping against the floor as she runs down the hallway, bursting into your future room.

“Miss Y/N! You’re here!” she cheers, throwing herself into your arms as you sit on the floor, being the perfect level for the little girl.

“I am! How was your day, little Sunshine?”

“We finger painted and I made a painting for daddy, do you want to see it?”

“Of course!”

Izzy disappears to get her backpack from Ruth who is making her some snacks in the kitchen. She soon returns with her painting, presenting it to you proudly.

“Look! This is me and this is daddy!” she points at the two human-like figures, the only thing giving away who is who is that one of them is bigger than the other one. “And then this is mommy!” she then adds, pointing at a star in the upper corner of the painting and you freeze.

In the midst of everything, you didn’t even have the time to question why Harry is a single parent. To be honest your first guess would have been divorce, but Izzy’s painting is telling you something a lot more tragic.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile at her, trying to hide your surprise at the new information. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Ruth makes sure Izzy is busy while you finish up unpacking and when you’re about to be done, Harry arrives home. Approaching your room even though the door is open he knocks on the doorframe, catching your attention.

“Hello, just wanted to see how things are going. Do you need help with anything? I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the boxes and all…”

“Hi! Oh don’t worry about that, I had plenty of help,” you shrug smiling. “Everything is going fine, thank you.”

“Great. I did all the paperwork today, tomorrow is going to be Izzy’s last day at daycare. You’re still up to start on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I only have a few things left at home so I’ll be all set by tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” he smiles warmly. “And thank you for being so quick about everything. It means a lot to me that I can spend more time with Izzy thanks to you. I really appreciate it.”

“I should be thanking you the opportunity. I wasn’t really drowning in the job offers,” you chuckle making him smile as well. “Please let me know if you want me to change anything, I have a plan I would like to go around with Izzy’s days, but of course, your word is the most important.”

“I trust you to take good care of her during the day. The only thing I want is to have her home when I get home. Ruth couldn’t always pick her up before and I really hated to do the extra trip and pick her up from daycare instead of coming straight home to be with her.”

“Understandable. I’ll make sure to plan accordingly,” you nod smiling.

“Y/N, I want you to feel home as much as possible. This is your place just as much as it is ours now. Izzy and I go grocery shopping every Sunday, it’s kind of a father-daughter thing we do every week. We keep a list on the fridge, feel free to add whatever you need and we’ll get it.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips, because this is such a sweet thing to do, when Harry could easily afford someone to do the work for him. Yet he still uses this time to be with his daughter.

“Yeah, sure, thank you!”

“I’ll get out of your hair now. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. I still have some things to take care of before tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he nods before walking out. He leaves you thinking hard about him. You wonder what really happened to Izzy’s mom and if he is dating someone right now. A man like him is basically a dream to any woman, you doubt he is having a hard time finding a partner, but you haven’t seen any sign of another woman around the house. Guess you’ll have to wait and figure it out yourself.

The apartment is awfully empty on your last night here. When you moved in about a year ago you didn’t think you’d be moving into a mansion from here. You spend the evening cleaning out a bit so you leave the place in good condition. Your landlord was terribly nice about your early leave, you could easily agree that you’d pay for the two more weeks that’s left from the month and that would be all, no extra costs for moving out before your lease was up.

You’re cleaning off the kitchen counter when your phone starts ringing, it’s a video call from your brother.

“Hey there! What’s up?” you ask, propping up the phone on top of the microwave while you move around, doing your thing. Trevor seems to be lying in bed, a black hoodie covering his upper body.

“Hello, just wanted to see how the moving has gone today.”

Despite the ten year age gap between you and Trevor, your relationship couldn’t be better. Probably because you were old enough to see what a blessing a sibling really is when he was born.

“Everything went smoothly. I only have a few stuff to bring over, that can fit into my car tomorrow, so it’s fine.”

“Cool. How is the dude? What was his name again?”

“Harry. Harry Styles.” You see him pull his laptop to his lap and probably searches up Harry’s name before his eyes widen at the screen.

“This dude is big! He is the president of HES Records, they run some of the most popular singers these days.”

“Yeah? I was sure he is a big name judging from his mansion,” you chuckle.

“Have you looked him up yet?”

“Not really.” “Want me to read what’s here about him?”

“Sure,” you hum, continuing to clean while you listen to Trevor.

“Alright. Apparently he is thirty-one, took over the record company when he was just twenty-five because his father wanted to retire early. The number of talents working under the label has doubled since he has taken over and many of his clients have won Grammy Awards. Impressive,” he hums, scrolling down on whatever site he has just found. “He is known to be a private person, the last time he made an appearance… Oh shit…” Trevor breathes out and you turn to your phone with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Wow, this shit is heavy. It says the last time he made a public appearance was in 2017, not long before his wife was killed in a car accident.”

You freeze, feeling your stomach drop to the floor, immediately thinking back at Izzy’s painting of her family. It very much makes sense why she said the star was her mother, it must be the way Harry explained to her what happened to her mother.

“It happened in 2018, she wasn’t in the fault, a drunk driver ignored the red light and ran into her car at a crossroad. This is terrible, oh God.”

“Poor Izzy, she probably doesn’t even know what really happened.”

“Must have been hard on him, there’s not much about him since then.”

“Can’t blame him for not wanting to be in the spotlight after losing his wife.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor shows you a few pictures of him from years ago, he has always been handsome, but your favorites are the few from the times when he had long hair. He looked so different, like a whole other person, but still, he rocked it perfectly.

Then you show Trevor around in the empty apartment before loving to the couch, turning all your attention to him.

“How have things been?” you ask with a sigh. Trevor purses his lips and shrugs.

“Other than the constant screaming matches on the phone and endless fights every time dad comes over for more of his stuff? Everything is rainbows and butterflies.”

“Is it really that bad?” you scowl.

“It’s like they never run out of stuff to throw at each other, but I feel like this much couldn’t happen even in their twenty-eight years together,” he scoffs making you chuckle.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of all that.”

“It’s like payback,” he hums and you give him a puzzled look. “You had it bad growing up for being the surprise baby, making them teen parents. Then I came at a reasonable time, they already knew the drill, but now that you’re out of the house I’m getting all the shit, having to deal with their divorce.”

“I’m really sorry, Trev,” you sigh, feeling guilty that he is all alone at home.

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you,” he shrugs. “But you could make it better if you asked your millionaire boss if I could hang out at his house sometimes.” He grins at you slyly and you roll your eyes. Of course he is already thinking about using you for his own good!

“I don’t want to push the boundaries just yet, but I’ll see what I can do.”

You talk a little more about school and what he’s been up to with his friends before ending the call. You take a shower and go to bed right away, feeling extremely worn out from all the packing you’ve done through the day.

The next day you pack the remainder of your stuff into your car and then your landlord comes over to do a checkup, though he fully trusts you took good care of the place.

“Again, thank you for your understanding, I didn’t plan to leave so early, but it just kinda came up,” you tell him, handing him over your keys.

“Don’t worry about it. I hope your new place will treat you right,” he smiles kindly at you.

You chat a little longer before you leave and head over to your new home. Once again, Ruth is the only one home and being the angel that she is, she helps you to carry your stuff up from the car before leaving to get Izzy from daycare. Since there’s not much left to unpack you finish quite fast, leaving you some extra time alone in the house. Walking around you try to learn your way around, still finding it a bit of a maze. You find Harry’s home office’s door open and after a bit of hesitation you step inside, just taking a look around. Yeah, it’s kind of a nosy thing to do, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His space is quite clear, he keeps his stuff neatly organized. Certificates and plaques are hung up on the wall, showing off his many successes in the business. There’s a huge bookcase near his desk and there you see some family photos… ones that include his late wife as well.

She was beautiful. There’s a picture of the three of them in the hospital from the day Izzy was born, Harry has an arm around his wife’s shoulders who is holding baby Izzy, both of them radiating happiness as they just become parents. Your heart breaks when you see the photo next to it, it’s just Harry and her in Paris, the Eiffel tower standing tall behind them as they are grinning widely at each other, foreheads touching. Harry has his arms wrapped around her slim figure while she is hugging his neck. They look so happy and in love, like they were always meant to be with each other. Knowing what tragedy hit them is just hard to process even for you, who never even met the woman.

You hear the front door open and Izzy is laughing at something, so you rush out before anyone could catch you snooping around.

“Hi Miss Y/N!” she chirps upon seeing you when you meet them in the living room.

“Izzy, you don’t have to call me Miss Y/N, Y/N is perfectly fine,” you smile at her, caressing her rosy cheeks.

“Okay. Ruth, can I please have some ice-cream?”

“I’m afraid we ran out of ice-cream, but I’ll put it on your grocery list,” Ruth tells her, a pout tugging on Izzy’s lips.

“How about this: I’m gonna make a delicious smoothie, that’s almost like melted ice-cream, would you like some?” you offer and her eyes brighten up immediately, nodding right away.

While Ruth puts away Izzy’s things they brought home from daycare, while the two of you move to the kitchen to make the smoothie together. You find some frozen berries in the freezer and pair them with bananas, putting them all into the blender with oatmilk, blending it all together.

“How is it?” you ask Izzy, who is sitting on top of the counter, tasting the pink smoothie that leaves a cute little mustache above her cherry lips.

“I like it!” she smiles, scrunching her nose.

“We can make it some other time then,” you smile, drinking up your portion.

Izzy is dancing around the kitchen, babbling about her last day at daycare while you clean the glasses and the blender when Harry arrives. He is wearing a baby blue suit with a crispy dress shirt underneath, looking fashionable but still business appropriate at the same time.

“Daddy!” Izzy launches towards her daddy, who catches her, throwing her into the air before holding her in his arms, joining you in the kitchen.

“Hey baby. How was your day?”

“Good, all my friends hugged me but I told them we would meet in the park.”

“That’s right, and I have the number of all your friends’ parents, we can have playdates with them whenever you want to,” he smiles before his eyes meet yours. “Hi Y/N, everything went well with the rest of your moving?”

“Yeah, I’m all set,” you smile back at him.

“That’s great. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll be done in thirty probably. Would you mind looking out for Izzy in the meanwhile?”

“Of course. She promised me to take me around her room, so we could do that, what do you say?” you ask the little girl who nods in excitement.

Harry disappears in his office and Izzy pulls you to her room, showing you just about every toy she owns. Her room is a typical girl’s room, the walls are painted a light pink color, her bedframe resembles a castle and she has a dollhouse as big as your previous bathroom. Harry clearly spoils her rotten, but what you noticed is that she is not one of those annoying bratty only children who can’t take no. She was clearly taught how to behave and always listen to the adults.

While Izzy is putting her stuffed animals away after introducing you to all of them, you spot a photo frame near her bed, decorated with macaroni. You remember when you all did that together at daycare and now you get to see the photo that ended up behind the glass.

It’s a photo of Izzy and her mother, she was just a baby and doing quick math in your head you realize it must have been not long before her accident, might even be the last picture taken of the two of them. Her mom is smiling at the camera while Izzy is sleeping in her arms peacefully. Izzy looked a lot like her when she was a baby, the bridge of her nose and her lips resembled her mother’s, though now she appears to take more after her dad with her chocolate curls and piercing green eyes.

“That’s my mommy,” she tells you when she sees you looking at the photo.

“It’s a nice picture,” you smile at her, trying your best to hide how heartbroken you feel even just looking at the photo.

“Daddy said she had to go up to the sky, but she is watching me from there,” she explains, clearly not entirely sure what it means, but you can tell she misses her. “Daddy said she is living between the stars now and that she loves me very much.” You need to fight your tears back at her words.

“I’m sure of that too,” you breathe out smiling at her.

“Izzy, do you want to help me make dinner?” Harry walks in smiling, though it disappears for a moment when he sees the two of you looking at the photo of his wife, but he is quick to control himself.

“Yes! What are we making?” she runs over to him, jumping up and down.

“Uh, chicken and veggies.”

You step away from the photo, pretending like nothing just happened. You’re dying to discuss it with Harry, hear him talk about it, but you won’t push him. If he wants to share it, he’ll come to you.

“Alright, come on then,” he smiles down at her. “Thank you for watching her, I’ll take over from here. Food will be ready in about an hour, Ruth is staying with us as well,” he informs you.

“Great, I’ll… I’ll be in my room,” you nod.

The first two weeks on the job brush past smoothly. It takes you some time to get used to your new home, but taking care of Izzy doesn’t feel like work, so you’re feeling amazing in your new job. You easily fall into a schedule with her.

The mornings are always Harry’s duty. He wakes her up around seven-thirty, makes her breakfast and dresses her for the day before he leaves around nine. Thanks to this habit of his, you’re able to sleep in until eight, leaving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Izzy before Harry has to leave. Depending on the weather, the two of you then either take over the back yard or move to her room for some play time before her class of the day starts in the noon. Piano with Rosaline on Mondays and Wednesdays, French lesson with Lyon on Tuesdays and Fridays and then Izzy’s favorite on Thursdays, swimming class with Kitty.

Izzy loves to help in the kitchen so you usually make lunch together. Once her tummy is full she takes a nap before you sit down to learn something new every day. You’ve been teaching her the numbers and the alphabet, or some days you just talk about anything that interests her and learn at least two things she hasn’t know yet, all through games so she doesn’t even realize what you’re doing. You’re usually done by around three, leaving you time to take a visit to the park, if Harry is not planning to take her himself later that day.

You’re strictly home by four, unless it’s Tuesday when she has her dance class until five. Those days you drive her to her class, run some quick errands and pick her up. Harry usually uses his extra time in the office on these days, but he is always home by six to have dinner together with his daughter.

Once Harry is home you’re off duty, though you like to stay close, not just in case something comes up for Harry, but because you genuinely like spending time with Izzy and Harry, seeing them interacting.

Harry sometimes has to work on Saturdays as well, but just as he promised Ruth is always here to take over duty on those days, leaving you free for the whole weekend. It’s been working perfectly for you and those very few concerns you had about moving in dissolve quite fast as soon as you start working.

Though it’s been pretty clear to you before, you now one hundred percent sure that Harry is living for his daughter. She is always a priority, he doesn’t hesitate to decline any work calls he gets in the evenings if Izzy needs him, if she is a little fussy and wants her daddy’s attention or when they are in the middle of a game. He is clearly trying to keep a balance between his work and role as a father and from what you’ve seen, it seems like he is doing an amazing job in that. However you haven’t learned much else about him. He is all friendly towards you, but makes sure to keep it business casual, not quite keen on getting to know each other better as just friends, maybe.

A Friday afternoon you’re having a little tea party in the backyard with Izzy when Harry arrives home, but this time, he is not alone. Through the sliding door you spot him with a blonde guy who is talking very articulately as Harry is typing on his phone. The man looks about Harry’s age, but you can’t tell if he is a friend or a business partner, but if Harry brought him home, he is more likely to be a friend of his.

“Uncle Niall!” Izzy gasps when he spots the man through the glass and abandoning the tea party, she starts running towards the door. The man spots her and slides the door open grinning widely before she jumps into his arms.

“Little bugger! How are ya?” the man laughs, holding Izzy in a tight hug before leaning back to take a good look at her. You notice his thick Irish accent and it suits his appearance quite well. You head inside as well, in case Harry needs Izzy busy for a little longer, though he doesn’t mind having her around, kissing the top of her head before finishing up whatever he was doing on his phone, watching Niall and Izzy smiling.

“I’m having a tea party with Y/N, wanna join?” Izzy invites the man, who then looks at you for the first time, smiling widely.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Izzy’s new nanny,” you introduce yourself, holding out a hand that he shakes, keeping Izzy in his other arm without a problem.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Niall.”

“Y/N, Niall is an old friend of mine. He is joining us for dinner, hope you don’t mind,” Harry informs you and you find it funny how he is kind of asking for your approval when it’s his house.

“Not at all.”

“Harry has told me he hired a pair of new hands to help, but he didn’t mention it’s a stunning young woman!” Niall beams, making you blush right away.

“Ni, I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to pick up my daughter’s new nanny,” Harry warns him lightly, though there’s some firmness in his tone, not that it scares Niall in any way, he even winks at you.

“Oh come on, you can’t expect me not to flirt when you surround yourself with so many pretty women! First Ruth and now Y/N!”

You smile at him, something is telling you he wasn’t joking and he tried to flirt with Ruth as well. Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, taking Izzy from him.

“Keep it in your pants, Niall,” Harry tells him and though it’s nothing vulgar, it catches Izzy’s attention.

“What should he keep in his pants?” she questions, making your and Harry’s eyes grow big right away. Luckily, Niall keeps his cool and takes care of the situation.

“My attitude, Sweetie. Your daddy is just jealous because I’m more handsome than he is,” he smirks at the little girl, successfully avoiding an awkward conversation about what it is that Niall should keep in his pants.

You smile at his reply, even though you are not that sure about the comparison he just made between himself and Harry.

“Izzy, do you want to continue the tea party?” you ask her and even though just a minute ago she was inviting Niall to join her, now she shakes her head no. “Alright, I’ll pack it up then.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ll do it, right Izzy? She brought it all out, she is going to be the one packing it up,” Harry reminds her and she nods.

The two of them move outside to put her little tea set back into the basket she keeps it in, leaving you and Niall alone.

“So Y/N, how did you end up here?”

“I was working at Izzy’s daycare, but they sent me away not long ago. Then Harry contacted me and offered the job which was a lifesaver, truly.”

“That’s great! Well, not that you got fired, but that you ended up here. I know it means a lot for Harry that he can spend more time with Izzy, you’re making everything a lot easier for him.” Niall walks over into the kitchen and grabs a water for himself as he leans against the counter. “I can see that he is a lot more relaxed now already.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah. I know he always used to stress about picking Izzy up, or forgetting something the daycare asked for. Now he can make it all work just how he wants to, that fits him a lot more. It hasn’t been easy on him since Maggie’s death.”

This is the first time you hear anyone talk about Harry’s wife and now you just learned her name. Maggie.

“Being a single parents is never easy,” you add with a soft smile, not wanting to interrogate Niall about Maggie. It’s Harry’s place to tell you about her, if he wants to, of course.

Soon enough Izzy and Harry take over the kitchen, Niall helping them this time and you leave them alone, taking some time for yourself in your room. Later you go out to check if there’s anything you could help with, Harry asks you to set the table as he finishes up the cooking.

“So, Y/N. Tell me a little bit about yourself!” Niall asks you over dinner.

“Um, what do you want to know?” you ask, feeling a little flustered to be in the spotlight.

“I don’t know, family, friends, hobbies?”

“Well, I have a younger brother, Trevor. He is seventeen and already taller than me.”

“Oh, that seems like a big age gap.”

“Ten years, to be exact,” you nod. “He was planned, I wasn’t,” you add with a soft chuckle. “But we have a great relationship, so it’s all good. We talk almost every day.”

“I’m sure you’ll get well along with Gemma then!” Niall beams, glancing at Harry.

“Gemma is my sister,” Harry explains. “Though she is not that much older than me.”

“But you can bond over being stuck with a younger brother who outgrew you,” Niall jokes making all three of you laugh.

All through dinner you realize how different Niall is from Harry, but in a good way. While Harry is more quiet and calm, Niall is kind of all over the place, buzzing and chatting every chance he got, but the two of them make a great pair, bringing what the other doesn’t have to the table.

After dinner you attempt to leave them again, but Niall makes you stay as they open a glass of wine. Harry puts on a movie for Izzy to keep her busy, giving the three of you a chance to sit out at the terrace from where you still can keep an eye on the little girl inside.

“Alright, Y/N. When are we going on our first date then?” Niall asks out of the blue, a cocky smile tugging on his lips.

“Niall, for fuck’s sake,” Harry breathes out as you let out an awkward chuckle.

“What? I think there’s some electricity going on between us.”

“I, uhh—I don’t…”

“Please don’t turn me down!” he sighs dramatically, making you smile.

“You’ve been great company, but I’m not sure we should go out,” you tell him. He huffs in disappointment, but it’s clear he didn’t take it to his heart.

“Is it because you’re taken? I didn’t even ask, are you dating anyone? You can’t be engaged, because I don’t see any rings,” he points out, nodding towards your naked fingers, however his words make you suck on your breath.

“I’m not engaged. Not anymore,” you admit and you watch their eyes go wide at the information.

“Wait, you’ve been engaged before?” Harry asks, clearly surprised, if not shocked.

“Yeah. For about four months,” you nod, running your tongue over your lips as you reach for your wine, taking a few large gulps.

“And what did the fucker do?” Niall bluntly questions, earning a look from Harry. “What? I’m just curious what twat it takes to lose a woman like her!”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about that,” Harry presses, but you shrug.

“It’s not a secret. We dated for about two years before he proposed. I said yes, started planning the wedding and everything, then found out that he had been cheating on me with his assistant for about a year. We broke up, simple as that. It’s in the past, happened a year ago.”

“That’s some next level asshole bullshit,” Niall shakes his head while Harry is just staring at you with an unreadable look before he turns his attention at his glass, still clearly deep in his thoughts and you wonder what he thinks of you now. Here is the loser who not only got cheated on, but lost her job, all of that just in one year.

Harry doesn’t react, and a moment later Izzy comes out because she is thirsty, so daddy duties call him away. Niall stays a little, but heads home soon as well.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. The date still stands though,” he smirks when he pulls back from the short hug he enveloped you in.

“Alright,” you chuckle, slowly getting used to his flirty act.

You was the wine glasses and head back to your room while Harry walks Niall out and then takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath. You don’t cross paths until later when you leave your room, already in your pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt to grab some water for yourself and he walks out of Izzy’s room just then, probably done with putting her to sleep.

“I’m sorry if Niall made you uncomfortable, he didn’t mean to be rude or anything,” he apologizes as the two of you walk together.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle softly. “It was kind of a boost to my ego, if I’m being honest.”

Harry huffs with a smile and stops at the kitchen island, his fingers tapping on his lips as you grab yourself a bottled water.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about what you told us earlier.”

Closing the fridge you look at him, seeing that he is kind of hesitant, like he is not sure he should have spoken up, but you appreciate the thought.

“It’s alright. Just water under the bridge,” you shrug.

“I just feel bad you had to go through that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you chuckle softly. “It sucked, yeah. I really thought I would live happily ever after with Keith, but instead I got a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“When we broke up I was obviously on the floor, both literal and theoretical way. I thought it was my fault, that I did something wrong and that’s why he did what he did. I even thought that I’m not worthy of being loved and being in love again. Took me time to realize that no matter what happened, I still deserve to be happy and to find someone to love and who can love me back.”

It appears that your words touch him deep, staring back at you, he just nods shortly, not replying to anything you just said. You’re not sure he is so silent because he doesn’t really understand what you just talked about or if it hit too close to home. Whatever it is, he keeps it to himself.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him before walking out of the kitchen and up into your room.

You’re lying in bed already when you hear him open his room’s door and then close it and suddenly he is all you can think about. The way his eyes sometimes pierce down on you, the way he taps his fingers against his lips when he is thinking hard or the proud smile that always plasters across his face whenever he is watching Izzy do basically anything. But you do see some pain in those beautiful green eyes of his and your desire to take just the smallest fracture of it away grows, even though he is not showing any sign that he is willing to share it with you.

The next morning, despite having the day off, you wake up quite early. You toss and turn, try to fall back asleep a little longer, but you just can’t. It’s a nice, warm morning and you decide to take advantage of the little balcony attached to your room. Wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe you grab the book you started reading a few days ago and sit out, enjoying the morning Sun that’s shining right at you on the balcony.

You don’t even realize for a while that you’re not the only early riser. When your eyes wander down to the big oak tree that’s near Izzy’s playground, you spot Harry doing what appears to be yoga on a green mattress, wearing nothing else, just a pair of black shorts. No shirt.

For a moment you think about going inside, feeling like you’re invading his privacy in a way, but you have the right to enjoy the morning Sun on your balcony, it’s not your fault he decided to have yoga at the exact same time. And it’s just hard not to look at his shirtless body stretching in all directions, twisting and turning as he goes through the motions, his tattooed body on full display.

It’s been clear since the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time that Harry is probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever met and that includes all your exes. Paired with his kind of mysterious charisma and the way he takes care of his daughter, he is the whole package, but you have been busy with Izzy to dwell too long on how attractive he really is. But right now, you are not working and he is very much shirtless in the backyard, teasing you with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about when it comes to your boss.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you let yourself watch him just for a few more minutes before heading back inside, not wanting to get busted for being a stalker and also not wanting to see him in more positions and have even more unholy thoughts about him.

But what you don’t know is that just as you step inside, Harry catches your figure disappearing in your room, knowing well you saw him too.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

-

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[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Sole Crusher

Well... It's finally here... the episode introducing the new bee hero. And what do you know? It looks like I was right about how the new character would be portrayed.

It's kind of funny how I made predictions exaggerating what could happen, and they were surprisingly accurate. Isn't that funny?

Let's just get into the seventh (chronologically the seventh and the seventh episode in the season to air after “Mr. Pigeon 72”) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Sole Crusher. Damn, I hate that a pun this clever was used for the title.

We get to the point pretty quickly with the first scene being Zoe arriving in Paris and getting a tour of the city. She asks to stop at the Dupain-Cheng bakery, where she meets Marinette through some brief Unfunny Marinette Slapstick. The two quickly strike up a conversation.

I mean, it's not like Zoe is the sister of the absolute worst human being in existence, right?

Marinette compliments Zoe's shoes, and she points out that she designed them herself, and wrote every good thing anyone has ever said to her on them. But because she only has one friend, there's only a standard “I <3 U” on the left shoe.

So Zoe leaves the bakery and heads to Le Grand Paris where she meets her mother, Audrey. Unlike how she talked with Marinette, Zoe pretends to be just as snobby as Audrey in order to fit in. She then meets up with Chloe, who criticizes her for having poor person things like a phone without any diamonds embedded in it. And then she sees Zoe's shoes.

Look, that meme was already dated when it was referenced in Black Panther three years ago. Please don't try to reference memes in 2021, Miraculous Ladybug.

Chloe offers some golden heels while saying that those kind of shoes are for winners to wear and crush the losers underneath. This is the only episode to mention this kind of ideology, and believe me, it gets worse when Chloe decides to teach Zoe how to be like her.

Get used to this. This episode is all about demolishing any semblance of likability in Chloe's character. Now that Astruc doesn't have to bother with writing Chloe with decency since she's not Queen Bee, watch as he turns her into an absolute caricature of her former self.

Yes, Chloe has ordered her father to give her a lot of frivolous things in the past, but she has been shown to care about him, like immediately rushing to hug him after she was safe in “Origins” and showing concern for when he was akumatized into Malediktator while apologizing for causing it. For the love of God, one of the first things she did when she allied with Hawkmoth at the end of Season 3 was to have him unto her parents' akumatization. I guess she only cared about her rich parents for their status and not because she actually loved them right?

Next up on the list of Chloe's positive qualities to ruin is her friendship with Sabrina.

🎶It's seven o'clock in the morning🎶 🎶I can't believe they made this scene🎶 🎶With the writing Astruc's enforcing🎶 🎶It's like he's trying to piss off me🎶

Yep, Chloe doesn't view Sabrina in a twisted view of friendship anymore. Now she's a slave. I'm not exaggerating by the way, he actually said that in a tweet.

THIS IS WHAT THOMAS ASTRUC ACTUALLY BELIEVES

Okay, so I guess all those times we saw Chloe playing superheroes with Sabrina in “Antibug” and “Miraculer” were just a slave driver playing with their property. Actually apologizing to Sabrina for getting her akumatized in those episodes? Protecting her from the Scarlet Akumas in “Ladybug”? She was just interested in keeping her slave around. I think Astruc may have slept through the slavery unit in his history class. Yes, Sabrina was mostly used as a joke to show how controlling Chloe could be, but there were still semblances of an actual friendship between the two.

Chloe arrives at school and introduces Zoe as her half-sister, despite being the same age and having the same mother. Because I guess we can add basic biology to the list of things the writers don't understand. Now that we're at school, Chloe's friendship with Adrien is next up on the chopping block.

Yep, despite being Adrien's only friend and making a big deal about valuing his friendship to the point where she threw a big party just to make sure he wouldn't leave her and risked cooperating with an Akuma to save him, now Chloe just sees Adrien as a rich meal ticket. Two of the earliest episodes to show Chloe had a more compassionate side to her, and they just undid them. Even as much as I hated the episode, “Felix” showed Chloe was willing to cooperate with Marinette and her friends just to find a way to cheer Adrien up on the anniversary of his mother's not-death.

For the love of God, Astruc, 1984 was supposed to warn people about what could happen if they rewrote the past, not encourage people to rewrite the past. He probably finished Animal Farm thinking Snowball really did work alongside the humans, didn't he?

Marinette comes up and Zoe pretends to hate her, leading Marinette to wonder why she did that. She texts Zoe (she gave her number to her earlier) and invites her to a concert on the Liberty, but Chloe finds out. Zoe thinks fast and pretends it's just so she can torment her more. Chloe then takes out a book listing all the ways she can torture Marinette. I wonder if this is a metaphor for the writing process behind most of the episodes last season.

Zoe decides to go outside for some fresh air, and Andre comforts her. Funny how Andre bends over backwards to give Chloe whatever she wants, yet he's willing to actually talk to Zoe like an actual parent. Andre tries to cheer Zoe up, but she talks about her past where she had to put on an act so she would be liked, but (bet you've never heard this before) she just wants to be accepted for who she truly is. The surge of emotions is enough for Shadowmoth to akumatize her into Sole Crusher.

In addition to having one of the most clever puns for an Akuma name, I actually like Sole Crusher's design. Not only is it a good excuse to reuse Chloe's character design, it makes sense thematically, as Chloe was trying to mold Zoe into a copy of herself. The gold and diamonds also make sense given Chloe's love for shiny things. Her powers tie into the bizarre belief Chloe has about stepping on the winners. Whenever Sole Crusher kicks or steps on someone, she absorbs them and gets progressively bigger, making it easier to do so. While it's not cracking my top ten anytime soon, it's still an interesting character design.

Sole Crusher heads to the hotel to get Chloe, and she manages to get away pretty quickly. Maybe in an alternate universe, she's a track star? For some reason, she runs to the Dupain-Cheng bakery and then... Oh my God... pushes Marinette's parents so they get absorbed by Sole Crusher, before trying to do the same with Marinette.

When has Chloe ever done something like that? Whenever she endangered someone during an Akuma attack, it was unintentional or a result of her naivety. She was only trapped in Pixelator's dimension because Adrien tried diving to save her, she only alerted Rogercop to Ladybug's presence because she eagerly called out for her, and during “Zombizou” she only tried to throw Sabrina towards the horde of kissing zombies once, and that was meant to highlight her growth. The only person to actually do stuff like this consistently is Lila, but I guess she got vaporized by Big Brother offscreen.

This episode is determined to make the audience hate Chloe by retconning everything about her character while portraying her as a complete monster. As bad as Chloe could get, she was never selfish enough to use anyone as a human shield. This kind of behavior honestly could be explained by saying Chloe was lashing out as a result of losing the Bee Miraculous permanently, but the events of the Season 3 finale aren't mentioned ONCE, not even in the next episode that introduces Queen Bee's replacement! How the hell can you set up the next Bee hero without explaining why the original needs to be replaced in the first place?! And trust me, I'm going to talk about Zoe replacing Chloe later.

Sole Crusher grabs Marinette in her hand, so the Horse Kwami, Kaalki, uses her power to teleport over to Adrien's house and inform him Ladybug needs help, meaning once again Adrien did nothing in this episode before becoming Cat Noir.

At the Liberty, Chloe offers more victims to Sole Crusher in the form of the band Kitty Section (consisting of Luka, Juleka, Rose, Ivan, and Mylene) and theatens the giant golden supervillain she can send her back to Paris, even though she's really not in a position to bargain right now. And she STILL continues to insult her. Do you hate Chloe yet? Come on, do you? The writers won't stop until you do.

After we see Sole Crusher's conflicted emotions, Marinette is set free by Cat Noir and transforms into Ladybug, immediately summoning her Lucky Charm, a shoehorn. They only learn Zoe's sneakers were where she were akumatized thanks to Chloe's ranting, so the episode unintentionally made Chloe save the day. Ladybug breaks into Le Grand Paris and breaks the sneakers where Zoe hid them, using the shoehorn to open a door. So Sole Crusher is de-evilized, Ladybug fixes the damage, and gives yet another charm to Zoe.

Afterwards, Zoe goes to the Liberty, apologizes for the act she put on, all while divulging to the audience her “tragic backstory”.

Of course, everyone welcomes her with open arms.

And right here is where the biggest problem I have with Zoe as a character. I normally hesitate to use this term given how often it gets thrown around when criticizing characters these days, but I really can't say anything else.

Zoe... is a Mary Sue.

For those who don't know, the term Mary Sue originated in a Star Trek fanfiction from 1973 satirizing several self-insert stories at the time. Most of these stories showed a beautiful young woman joining the crew of the Enterprise and immediately gaining the attention of the crew. Mary Sue parodied this character archetype by showing how much she was appreciated by Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, the latter being driven to tears at her funeral despite his species being emotionless normally.

What does this have to do with Zoe? She has the exact same storyline as Mary Sue in the parody fanfiction. Her mere presence is enough to make Chloe act extremely out of character in an attempt to make her look better, and as soon as she apologizes while giving a frankly vague backstory, everyone just accepts her as their friend, and I mean everyone in the entire class. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't feel earned. Why was she bullied at her old school? What did her bullies have against her? What caused her to stop going along with her peers, and why did everyone turn against her? How the hell did the bullies who put cockroaches in another student's locker get no punishment while the victim was forced to transfer schools? It's an intentionally unclear backstory designed to make the audience feel sympathetic towards Zoe without actually doing anything else.

I want to ask anyone reading this who watched the episode a question: Outside of her backstory, what do we actually know about Zoe?

What is her personality like? She's nice? Socially awkward? We've never had a character like that in Miraculous Ladybug before! Sorry Marinette, Adrien, Juleka, Nathaniel, Mylene, and Marc, there's a new character with more personality than all of you combined!

What are her goals? She wants to be an actress? Great, but why? Even though there's no clear answer for why Marinette loves fashion, or why Alya loves journalism, or why Nino loves DJing, you can still see the passion in their lives when they do something related to their goals. Zoe only says she wants to be an actress, connecting it to her people pleaser backstory (and given how it ended, she must be a terrible actress), and in the next episode, she immediately gets the lead role in a student film.

When Mylene got the starring role in the movie in “Horrificator”, we at least got snippets of her acting skills in the same episode that established her desire to be an actress, which is also implied to be because she was inspired by her father in “The Mime”. She didn't just say she wanted to be an actress and got the leading role. She still had problems to overcome like her cowardice, which threw her own self-confidence into doubt. Here, Zoe just says she wants to be an actress, and is rewarded for no reason the very next episode.

Zoe basically exists only to be a foil to Chloe, and the writers had no idea what to do in terms of a personality, so they just dumped a bunch of extremely likable character traits onto her without thinking of how her character could come off. And like I said, she's a Mary Sue.

I'm not the only one who thinks this. I've seen a handful of posts on this very site calling Zoe a Mary Sue. In fact, I even asked another Tumblr user @anxresi​ to quote their take on Zoe being a Mary Sue, which I couldn't even top in terms of accuracy. They basically listed off five things that made Zoe a Mary Sue.

She has to have a ‘tragic backstory’ so all the other characters will fall in love with her. Usually within minutes, in the very first episode they’re introduced.

She has to have a supercute design so that the audience at home will fall in love with her. And if they don’t, they’re automatically dismissed as ‘haterz’ even if their objections are purely from a writing POV.

Her only flaw will be thinking too little of herself. “What, lil ol’ me as the Bee Miraculous holder? With my shyness, colorful shoes, chic beret and personalized pink strip in my hair? Gosh, who’d have thought it?”

The contrast to her half-sister will be a constant plot point, with Chloe always getting dumped on. “You see, kids? Bad things happen to bad people. But you see this super-sweet girl over here? She gets a free DAD. Instant FRIENDS. To star in her own MOVIE. The chance to be a SUPERHERO, even though she only arrived last week. Who cares if she has no depth, no personality and barely any reason for being in the show, apart from being a massive ‘Up Yours’ to all the Chloe fans out there?”

What about character development, Mr Generic Zag Guy? “Development? What’s that?! Zoe is already perfect as she is. The only ‘development’ she’ll receive is having her hair done in the first episode she’s introduced. Besides, That‘d’ word is banned here at Zag studios. Why do you think we abandoned Chloe’s stillborn arc so quickly? This is a KIDS show, why bother trying to create a complex character with more than one dimension?”

This is essentially who Zoe is. She's perfect, has no character flaws, has a cute design so the audience will love her already, and was designed only to replace Chloe as Queen Bee. That's all she is.

So the episode ends with Zoe feeling happy at all the new friends she made while we get one of the most blatant attempts of symbolism in the ending card I've ever seen.

See, look. While Marinette is happily talking with Zoe with the image of Ladybug next to them, Chloe is to the far left with an EVIL purple aura, showing how bad she is compared to how great Zoe is. Only a braindead moron would actually like Chloe over the super awesome and pretty Zoe!

I'll give my final thoughts on the episode in the next part where I analyze this plotline as a whole.

LINK TO “QUEEN BANANA” REVIEW

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: chapter 17

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you -  Cecilia and the satellite

————

Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 17

Edinburgh

June 1746

Edinburgh proved difficult to search. One lone carriage was hardly something of note for residents of Edinburgh, and that besides, Claire was quite certain this was where that particular journey had ended. They had no way of knowing where in the city Jamie and Faith would’ve gone once they’d arrived. So they checked every tavern, inn, and boarding house they could find, hoping they weren’t too late, that Jamie and Faith hadn’t moved on to some other place.

It was once again the horse, of all things, that gave them hope.

They were walking through a bustling market when Fergus stopped so abruptly in front of Claire that she nearly knocked him over. “Fergus, what are you‒”

His gaze was frozen on something ahead. “It’s Donas, Milady.”

“What?”

He didn't wait another second and surged forward into the crowd, leaving Claire and Murtagh to scramble after him. When they caught up to him, they were both brought almost nose-to-nose with a black horse that was unmistakable to them.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire whispered tightly, eyes widening at the sight before her. Donas was tucked back into a stall just off the busy street, but his head swung curiously over the wooden gate.

She glanced about, trying to get her bearings. If Donas was here, then‒

“Get back!”

The three of them startled at the sharp voice, Claire’s hand flying to Fergus’s shoulder as if that could shield him. Off to their right, a man had appeared ‒ a blacksmith by trade if his gritty, grimy appearance was any indication. “Unless ye want tae lose a hand. That beast is the devil’s own.”

Donas reared back suddenly, as if he understood and took offense. Claire was used to the horse’s attitude, but his timing always was something else, she thought. The blacksmith only took this as confirmation of what he’d just said, nodding sharply toward the horse with wide-eyed suspicion.

“See? He kens it.”

“That is not‒” Fergus began. Claire squeezed his shoulder.

“Please, can you tell us where we might find the owner of this horse?”

The blacksmith’s gaze shifted over the three of them, considering. Finally, he folded his arms over his chest and leveled a withering gaze at Claire. “Ye’re lookin’ at ‘im.”

“What?” She balked. Her gaze flew back to Donas, looking him over more discerningly. It had to be him. Then…?

“When did you acquire him?”

“I dinna see why ye need tae know.”

It was clear the man was growing tired of them, but before Claire could respond, Murtagh had fired back a reply. “I dinna see what harm there is in answering the lass.”

The blacksmith hardly concealed his annoyance but threw his hands up in defeat. “If it’ll make ye leave. A man brought him ‘round last week and sold him to me‒”

Claire felt her breath leave her lungs in a rush. A week ago. They’d never been this close before. A light, buoyant feeling filled her.

“‒ under false pretenses, mind. Tha’ horse was docile as a wee lamb when he brought ‘im here. Soon as he’s gone, I was dealing wi’ a demon.”

“Maybe you should‒”

Whatever Fergus was about to say, Claire was certain it wouldn’t have been flattering. And she needed more from this conversation still.

“Last question and then we’re out of your hair.” She felt an odd flutter in her stomach at the thought of what answers they might be able to walk away with. “What can you tell me about the man who sold you the horse?”

  They’d come to stay so long in Edinburgh that Faith’s understanding of “home” was beginning to solidify around the place they’d resided there: Mary’s aunt’s house. And while the streets were still crawling with soldiers, Jamie had gone so long without incident or recognition that the wariness was fading each time he stepped outside.

Mary's aunt had been hospitable in opening her home to Jamie and Faith when they arrived with Mary, though Jamie got the distinct impression that she wasn't exactly thrilled with this arrangement, given that she knew he was a Scot.

Still, it was a safe haven while they waited for sea passage to open up again.

Jamie entered the house, lugging his bundle of purchases, and was almost immediately greeted by Faith's high-pitch squeal from the other room. He paused, wondering if it was a squeal of excitement or some sort of fit.

There was a bustle of movement up ahead from the parlor and then Faith tumbled out into the hallway, tripping on the hem of her dress. It was new to her, an old dress belonging to one of Mary's cousins, and they were adjusting it for Faith.

"Da!"

Happy squeal, then.

He grinned broadly and dropped to one knee as Faith toddled over to him, nearly tripping again as she reached him. "Did ye behave for yer Auntie Mary, then?"

She didn't respond to him, only looped her slight arms around his neck and started to hang from him, giggling all the while.

"Alright then, ye wee fiend," he laughed, scooping her up as he moved to stand.

By now, Mary had appeared at the threshold and greeted him before they all moved into the parlor. Jamie noted that none of the other inhabitants of the house were in the room and breathed a sigh of relief. He was abundantly grateful to be able to keep Faith sheltered here, but he had no great desire for the company of near strangers ‒ especially those who looked down their nose at him.

“I’ve had a letter from my father,” Mary announced.

“Aye?”

“He’s sending my younger brother to escort me back to my father’s estate.”

Jamie nodded at that, though he wasn’t sure how he should feel. “And how did he take yer news?”

“Oh quite well,” Mary said swiftly. “I knew he would. Of course he wishes I wasn’t so recently widowed, since he’ll have to make arrangements for me to be married again. But there’s no shame in being widowed and with child.”

Jamie took a deep breath, ready to dive in on that comment, but thought better of interfering in her family matters and bit his tongue instead.

“Find everything you were looking for?” Mary asked.

“Oh aye.” Jamie pulled out the fresh ginger he’d purchased. There had been a number of items he’d needed to prepare for the upcoming voyage, but none quite so important as the very thing he held up for Mary to see. “For my seasickness,” he explained and then grinned ruefully. “Canna seem to so much as set foot on a ship wi’out getting sick.”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s no’ a pretty sight, I’m sure.”

“What will you do with Faith?”

Jamie’s gaze dropped to Faith in his lap and he swallowed roughly. “I dinna have much choice but to pray the ginger tea keeps me standing. I canna afford to get sick.”

Mary fell silent at that, her hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap.

But he knew even without her saying it that it was a foolish endeavor. He knew how sick he became on sea voyages and without anyone else with them, he ran the risk of becoming too sick to care for his child. But what other choice did he have?

“I could go with you.”

Mary’s words were spoken so softly, he almost didn’t catch them. His head snapped up and he stared at her. “You canna be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious!”

“It’s‒ I mean no offense to ye, Mary. It’s only… well, yer brother is already on his way and‒”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll just leave word here with my aunt telling him where we’ve gone. He can follow after and escort me back, same as he intended before.”

“That hardly seems fair to him. How old is the lad?”

Mary hesitated briefly. “George is fifteen, he’s old enough.”

Jamie swore under his breath. “We dinna even know where we’re headed yet. Could be as far as the colonies. And even if ye did accompany us on the journey and instructed yer wee brother to follow us… by time he arrives, ye willna be fit to make the journey again wi’ the bairn coming. You’ll have to have the baby in another country, alone.”

“I’ll be alone no matter where I am,” Mary pointed out and Jamie immediately regretted his words. “Doesn’t matter if I’m in Italy or France, the colonies or my father’s estate.”

Jamie sighed. “I still dinna like the idea. Ye’re finally safe here and under no obligation to help us further. I’m already indebted to ye for getting us this far. No, I couldna ask that of ye.”

“Good thing you didn’t ask then.” Mary straightened her spine. “And it’s… it’s me who’s indebted to you. If you hadn’t come to Inverness, I’d still be‒”

Jamie raised a hand in silent pleading. After all they’d been through since he’d knocked on her door in Inverness, there simply was no keeping score of how they’d aided one another. And he valued her friendship too highly to think of it as mere transactions.

He sighed loudly, hating the idea but seeing that determined look in Mary’s eye.

“Besides,” Mary added, “I’m not really doing this for you.”

He smiled cheerlessly, once again turning his gaze back to the red-headed toddler in his lap. For Claire, she’d said at the start. And it had never escaped his notice just how much Mary risked to repay Claire’s kindness, her friendship. “Well, I thank ye for it. Truly. Ye’re a good friend, Mary Hawkins.”

The evenings were always bittersweet in Edinburgh. It meant putting Faith to bed, a small routine that they’d carved out no matter where they were, and a time that Jamie always treasured. And it also meant once his child was asleep that there was nothing to preoccupy his mind, to keep his anguished thoughts at bay.

But before then, his complete attention was always on Faith.

“C’mere, lass.”

He scooped her up and headed toward the nursery where Faith slept. He felt her head rest heavy on his shoulder as they went, and her small hand patted his opposite shoulder gently.

He was helping her change into her nightgown when she sneezed. Three times in quick succession.

“Something tickling yer nose, a nighean?” he said lightly, though his hand went to her forehead and tried to gauge her temperature. Felt normal, but there was a small voice in the back of his mind ‒ Claire’s voice ‒ reminding him that unless the fever was very high, it was often hard to discern if someone had a fever by merely feeling for it.

Faith rubbed her nose with the back of her pudgy hand and looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Christ, I hope ye’re not sick.”

He took her wee face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her hairline, then rested his cheek there for a moment. She felt a little warm, but did that mean…?

Faith’s little hands wormed their way between them and pushed his face away. “No’ sick.”

He chuckled and pulled back, startled by her boldness, her certainty. A pint-sized force of nature, even if she was ‒ perhaps ‒ feeling under the weather.

But God in Heaven! He wished Claire was here for this. For all of it with Faith, but especially this. She would know better than him what to do if Faith got sick.

“Ye ready for bed then?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No’ yet, Da.”

“Not yet?”

Again, she shook her head, this time with a hint of a smile on her face. The more she learned to talk, the better she became at delaying her dreaded bedtime. She burst into a flood of speech ‒ not much of which was intelligible to Jamie, but she had something to say nonetheless ‒ which ended promptly with the word “story.”

“Ah. Ye’ll be wanting yer bedtime story then, is tha’ it?”

A curt nod from Faith.

“Aye, I can oblige ye there, mo chridhe.”

He stood and watched Faith scurry over to the small bed that was all her own. As was their nightly ritual, he situated Faith off to one side and pulled the covers up for her before carefully easing his six-foot-four frame onto the comically small bed, curled onto his side with his feet hanging over the ledge. A gentle breeze could’ve knocked him backwards off of the bed, but this was what he’d done the first night in this strange house when Faith had been too scared to sleep alone. Now, she slept well enough so long as he was there to tuck her in, give her a story. Once she was asleep, he would move her more towards the center of the bed before he left and retired to his own room.

“What story would ye like tonight, a nighean?”

“My mam?”

He exhaled a laugh. They were always about Faith’s mam. Even while he worried that Faith would never truly know Claire, it couldn’t stop him from wanting to talk about her to Faith. To help her understand the magnitude of Claire’s love for her, and that it wasn’t Claire’s fault that she wasn’t here now with Faith.

“Aye, I can tell ye about yer mam,” Jamie agreed softly. He started as he always did ‒ with a memory of Claire, whatever came to him in the moment. And he’d simply talk for as long as Faith needed, weaving one memory into another until he noticed her eyelids getting heavy, her breathing slowing to a steady rhythm.

“Ken yer mother was verra canny,” he prefaced his next story, slipping subconsciously into past-tense when he spoke of Claire. “What she didna ken about healing could fit in a shoe. After the Battle of Prestonpans, I was so weary and hurting ‒ got stepped on by a horse that day, ye ken, and och yer mam was furious wi’ me ‒ but I came back into the cottage to watch her, tending to the injured men. She was tireless and so determined…”

When Faith was finally out, he reached over and felt her forehead again, battling a sinking feeling that Faith truly was coming down with an illness. She’d been sniffling and sneezing, but that could be nothing. Or it could be the first sign of something more.

“A Dhia…”

He ached for Claire every minute of the day ‒ needed her like the very breath in his lungs ‒ but he’d never felt so wretchedly helpless without her until this moment. What would he do if Faith became sick?

Panic squeezed his heart in a vice grip. She was all he had now. Faith, still so wee and fragile, was the only thing keeping Jamie from careening off into the dark. And suddenly, he wasn’t even sure he could do this on his own.

He wanted to steal away back to the stones with Faith, to find some way to fix this. She should be with Claire ‒ she should’ve always been with Claire ‒ and it wasn’t right that they had been separated. That Faith couldn’t travel like her mother could.

Since he was a lad, he had a habit of speaking to his departed brother, Willie. Since Willie had been the oldest, he rightly should’ve been laird. So much of Jamie’s life growing up had been the result of Willie’s death. Honors that would normally befall the oldest son passed to Jamie instead, like fostering with his Uncle Dougal or continuing his studies in Paris. This had always been front of mind for Jamie, and when faced with a decision as Laird, he found it only respectful of Willie’s memory to ask his older brother’s thoughts on choices that should’ve been his to make.

Aye, the dead had a way of living with Jamie. He hadn’t only talked to Willie, but to the plovers along the shore, which legend said carried the souls of young mothers lost in childbirth. And he’d done this for years before he lost his da, but never once in the time since Brian Fraser’s death had he spoken to his father.

But suddenly, he found himself longing to pour his heart out to his departed father, in conversations he’d been too hesitant to have with the weight of Jamie’s misplaced guilt over Brian’s death. Suddenly, more than anything, he ached for one last conversation with his da.

“How did ye do it, Athair?” he whispered in the still room the question that had been plaguing him. He was intimately familiar with the pain his father would’ve suffered when his mam died. “How did you keep on living wi’out yer heart?”

The answer was there before him in the sleeping form of Faith. His father had survived for his and Jenny’s sakes, carried them through their grief and gave them hope. And though it felt impossible, though everything within him screamed that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Jamie would do the same for Faith as his father did for him. “I ken now the pain ye were trying to hide, Athair. But ye raised me and Jenny well despite it all. Help me do the same.”

His hand gently brushed over Faith’s wispy curls as he then addressed his sleeping child. “I’ve told ye plenty about yer mam, but nothing of my mam and da. We’ll need tae remedy that. Another time.”

He breathed in deep and then sighed heavily. “My da only ever kent me as a lad. Sometimes I wonder… if he saw me as I am today, would he be proud of me now? Would he approve of who I’ve become? And would I be much different from who I was before... or would he still recognize me as his son?”

His thumb softly stroked at her hair just above her temple before tucking a few wayward locks behind one tiny ear. “But I look at ye, Faith, and… there’s nothing ye could do that would ever change how I love ye. How I’m bursting at the seams with pride o’er ye. And that’s one thing I ken my da would’ve been very proud of,” he shifted slowly and pressed a kiss to Faith’s head before he finally stood, “My bairns.”

  It had been a week since they’d found Donas and they still didn’t have a crumb of information for where Jamie and Faith might be.

“Would it have been better to wait at Lallybroch in case he sent word? Before we went trampling across the country in search of him…” Claire wondered aloud.

“That would have taken months to wait for news to arrive.” Murtagh eyed her protruding belly, just starting to appear noticeable to others under all her layers of clothing. “Ye dinna have that kind of time to wait around.”

Claire sighed. “Aren’t we just waiting here, until we find a trace of him? Doesn’t feel much different.”

Murtagh didn’t reply, just made that Scottish sound low in the throat and eased into a chair.

There was a boyish shout from outside and Claire’s gaze flickered over to the window. Fergus was out in the street with another boy, playing some sort of game. She’d told him to go run some energy off after he’d been driving her up a wall all afternoon within the cramped confines of their rented room. They’d had no lead on Jamie even after finding Donas and that had hit Fergus hard. But even worse had been walking away without the horse that Fergus had loved so dearly ‒ all the time wondering why Jamie had sold him in the first place.

“What if they’re already gone from here? How long do we wait ‒ how long can we wait before the money is gone?”

They’d had no collateral of their own to offer up for the horse and even though they had some money ‒ money that they’d carefully skimped and saved during their journey before arriving in Edinburgh ‒ it wouldn’t last forever.

Murtagh grunted softly again. He’d heard her, he just didn’t have an answer.

Claire had even tried offering her services as a healer here when they first arrived. But Edinburgh was a bustling Lowland city, not a remote Highland village, and where those small populations would flock to Claire, the people of Edinburgh turned their nose up at her ‒ a strange woman they had no cause to trust or even to need in a large city such as this. So even the small hope of word getting out to Jamie of a Sassenach woman healer had quickly been dashed.

Her gaze sought out Fergus again and her heart sank in her chest. She wasn’t sure how much more disappointment they could shoulder before it became all too much. Or how much longer they could search before the only obvious solution was to turn home for Lallybroch.

Her hand fell to her belly. Murtagh was right about that at least. They didn’t have all that much time before there would be a baby to consider as well.

  The ports had reopened in Edinburgh ‒ but not without British control over what came in and out of the harbor. The sale of Donas helped provide enough to book passage on a ship, but they’d had to be careful in arranging it. Jamie had begun to notice the new broadsheets going up around Edinburgh and among them, one for Red Jamie. No doubt as the dust from Culloden began to settle, his disappearance hadn’t gone completely unnoticed.

He had followed the captain of a cargo ship recently docked in Edinburgh into a tavern one night. The captain ‒ a Scot through and through ‒ and Jamie swapped tales over drinks well into the night and only once he was sure the good captain had been plied with enough drink to make him amiable did he bring up the request to book passage with him.

“Ye dinna even ken where we’re going,” the captain laughed, his cheeks ruddy from drink.

Jamie laughed too, though he realized he’d made a misstep. That it might sound more suspicious now than if he’d learned of the destination first. Instead he tried to play it off as being cavalier. “Tell ye the truth… it doesna really matter where ye’re going, so long as it’s away from here.”

The captain chuckled and shook his head. They negotiated the price and sealed the deal there at that tavern table. “Write yer names down for me. I’ll have them added to the ship’s manifest. We sail in three days. Dinna be late.”

“And where are we sailing for?” Jamie finally asked.

“Och I thought it didna matter!” The captain roared with laughter again and Jamie reminded himself he couldn’t strike the captain that was giving him a way out of Scotland.

The captain stood to his feet, a bit wobbly at first try. Jamie thought of Mary and how she planned to leave a letter for her brother to be able to follow. How could he follow if he didn’t know where they went?

He opened his mouth to speak, but the captain clapped him hard on the shoulder and said, “Le Havre, man. We’re only going so far as Le Havre.”

In three days’ time, Jamie, Mary, and Faith were at the docks ‒ Jamie with his hair recently dyed black to cover his roots and Faith with her red hair tucked under a bonnet and then the hood of her cape as a precaution.

They would need to be allowed past by the Redcoat checking the ship’s manifest, the only hurdle standing between them and freedom. And having spoken with the captain that night in the tavern, they couldn’t fall back on their old gimmick of Jamie-as-a-mute. But this was a calculated risk he knew he would take, hoping that the time and miles between here and Culloden would be enough to shed any suspicion that he might be Red Jamie.

“Name?”

He met the eye of the Redcoat staring him down. “Alexandre Beauchamp,” he said evenly, letting a little bit of his admittedly imperfect French accent bleed into his thick Highlander dialect in hopes that it would at least confuse him. Off the surprised look from the man, he added with an easy smile, “I get that look a lot. My father was a Frenchman but my mother a Scot. Ye can see for yerself which side I favored in looks.” He could hide the red hair, but the towering height, the build of a man descended from Vikings… that could not be so easily hidden.

“And your companions?”

“My daughter, Faith Beauchamp, and Mary Hawkins.”

The man’s gaze flicked between Jamie and Mary, and though Jamie’s heart felt as though it might beat right out of his chest, this conversation was flowing exactly as he’d anticipated. They were almost through.

“And your relation to Mistress Hawkins?”

“My late wife’s sister. She’s accompanying me to care for my child.” It wasn’t terribly far from the truth ‒ and it was a necessity now to be able to explain why Faith called her Auntie Mary.

“And your reason for journeying to Le Havre?”

“My father’s family is there. My grandfather is in poor health and I must return.”

The Redcoat looked him in the eye again and Jamie knew what question came next. “And are you a Jacobite or have you ever aided the Jacobites in any way, Mr. Beauchamp?”

“No.” He was met with a look of vague suspicion and he mustered every ounce of easy confidence into next words. “I am not nor have I ever been a Jacobite, or a Jacobite sympathizer for that matter. And I never aided their cause in any way. I am loyal to the crown.”

The Redcoat quirked one eyebrow at that and Jamie felt his stomach twisting into knots. “They all say that… now.”

But with a quick jerk of his head, the Redcoat dismissed them. Jamie blinked, stunned for a moment that it had been that easy. Because even without proof… the Redcoats could have treated him any way they wanted. That was their claim as victors. They didn’t need a reason to not let him through and that had been the one variable Jamie couldn’t have planned for ‒ the mercy of a Redcoat.

He shifted Faith to one arm and moved past the man, ushering Mary ahead of him up the gangway to the ship.

“Sir! Wait.”

He froze, hearing the Redcoat’s voice ring out. Mary stopped too and whirled around to look back at him. His hold on Faith tightened and he turned slowly.

The Redcoat stared at him curiously.

Jamie forced a smile. “Have I forgotten something?”

“As a matter of fact…” the man held out his hand. In his palm was Sawny, which Jamie had given to Faith to keep her occupied. She must’ve dropped it.

“Ah. I thank ye, Corporal.” He grabbed Sawny and handed it back to Faith. “I would’ve had a verra unhappy child on my hands had that been left behind.”

He wasted no time waiting for a response and turned with Faith to head back up the gangway where Mary still stood. “Let’s go,” he uttered under his breath when they reached her. The sooner they could be at sea, the safer he would feel.

What he hadn’t expected to feel was the loss.

He held Faith in his arms as he stood by the railing and watched Edinburgh fade farther and farther away. Watched his homeland fade away, knowing they’d likely never return.

“Christ,” he muttered, blinking fast against the unexpected sting of tears.

Faith stretched her arm out in front of her, towards land, and waved.

“Ye saying goodbye, a leannan?”

“G’bye,” she echoed in a soft, song-like voice.

Ah but he would do it all again in a heartbeat for her, no matter the cost. It was always for her, for her wellbeing and chance at a happy life.

She grinned up at him ‒ not a trace of sickness, though they’d dealt with the sneezing and runny nose for a few days before she was back to her usual self. “Ken you’re mine, a nighean, but ye dinna have to rub my nose in it that yer stomach is as hearty as a sailor’s,” he teased her before moving below deck, where Mary was waiting. His stomach was already rolling and it was only a matter of time…

 July 1746

Claire was writing a letter to Jenny ‒ an update without much news, but she still wanted to keep Jenny apprised ‒ when Murtagh burst into the room, startling her violently.

“Jesus Christ!”

Without giving her much time to recover, he dove breathlessly into the reason for his unsettling arrival.

“I just spoke with a deckhand down at the docks, just come back from Le Havre.” Murtagh’s eyes were aglow and Claire tried to temper the hope buoying in her chest. “He said he remembers someone that looked like Jamie who booked passage on the ship last time they came through here. Said he was sick as a dog the whole trip… and he had a wee lass with him.”

Claire was trembling and her simple question came out in a frantic whisper. “When?”

Murtagh smiled broadly, his chest still heaving as he tried to get the words out without stopping for a breath. “Just last month. They’re in France, a nighean. We found them.”

She hardly recalled how she went from sitting at the desk to being wrapped up in an almost painful hug from Murtagh, shouting with joy to keep herself from bursting into tears.

“What’s going on?”

She pulled away from Murtagh to see Fergus enter the room, concern etched into his face.

“What happened?” he asked.

Claire couldn’t keep the smile from her face even as her vision misted over with tears. Not just for her joy of being reunited with Jamie and Faith, but for Fergus’s as well. “Murtagh found them, love. We’re going home!”

When Fergus ran to embrace her, she nearly stumbled backwards from the impact of it. She cupped the back of his head and held him tight, rocking slightly.

“We’re going home.”

“D’ye have everything then, Mary?”

“I believe so.”

Jamie turned to help Mary up into the carriage. Upon arriving in France, they’d gone first to Jamie’s Uncle Alexander at the Abbey of Ste. Anne de Beaupré, that being the closest and safest place to turn to. Jamie and Faith meant to stay on at the abbey a bit longer, but Mary needed to return to Paris, to her aunt and uncle who would welcome her into their home until her younger brother arrived.

“Wait. No. I did forget something in my room.” Mary turned and stepped down from the carriage. “I’ll be right back,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“It’s alright, lass. We have time.”

“Jamie!”

He turned to find his uncle exiting the abbey, making a path towards him. “Aye?”

“We’re expecting a delivery to the abbey today. Could you help them unload when it arrives?”

“Aye of course.”

It wasn’t long after his uncle had left him that he noticed the wagon jolting down the dirt road towards the abbey.

Nobody saw what spooked the horse pulling the wagon as it neared the carriage.

It happened too fast, the one horse trying to buck itself free of the wagon, and the team of horses hitched to the carriage panicking as a result.

One moment, Jamie was standing beside a carriage and the next, he was flat on his back with a searing pain in his leg and a crushing weight pinning his body down.

And then it all went black.

[tsukishumai]

HELLO! i was wondering if your requests are open,,, if they are can i pls request prompt 44 from angst with oikawa??? THANK YOUUU!!!. p.s the kita angst broke me i- TT

HELLO!! Yes, requests are open, tysm for requesting something! 💘 & aw I’m sorry haha, I wasn’t too confident abt that one so to hear that u liked it makes me uwu 🥺 hope u like this one!

Send me a prompt + ur fav character here :)

44. “What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Eek, again I suck at angst so I apologize if this is terrible <3

You really only had one goal in life, and that was to be successful. There was no nuance to it, no specific path you intended to follow. Hell, even which career you wanted for yourself was up in the air. But all of those things were just minor details. Regardless of whichever mountain you decide to climb, you had every intention of sitting yourself right at the very top.

It was only natural to want to be the best, isn’t it? You couldn’t think of one good reason why you should be satisfied with anything other than first place. That’s why out of all the applicants, you were the one awarded a scholarship to the prestigious Aoba Johsai. It wasn’t a stroke of luck, nor an answered prayer; and it truly irked you when people tried demeaning all your efforts by simply boiling it down to happenstance. You studied your ass off, spent days and nights with your nose buried in a book or camped out in a library, and in the end it paid off.

Not a lot of people understood. If people were trying to be nice, they would say you were just ambitious. But if people were trying to be mean, they would call you shrewd and cold. None of those things mattered to you either way; the view of their upturned faces as you looked down on them from your pedestal provided you enough fuel to warm your lonely nights.

It’s not that you didn’t value friendship; you managed to cultivate a few acquaintances, and it’s not like you sat by yourself a lunch. But high school just felt so arbitrary; Aoba Johsai was just one of many steps towards your future, what was the point in forming connections with people you would probably never have met if not for the fact you were all born around the same time? You watched as your classmates settled into their cliques, formed their little groups, and - as much as any high schooler could - fall in love.

You didn’t hate love. You just didn’t see the point, really. You saw the way some of your friends start obsessing over their significant other; friendships start to break, grades start to slip, mental health goes on the decline. Why would you want that? Not after spending all your time in setting up the foundation for yourself; there wasn’t a single part of yourself that you were willing to give to anyone else.

So why was it you were standing in front of Oikawa Tooru, eyes nearly swollen shut from the tears that forged a streaky path down the planes of your cheeks, snot disgracefully dripping from your nostrils as you desperately choked back a sob?

“How long have you known?” You asked, but you weren’t prepared for the answer.

“A year,” he mumbled shamefully, unable to even look you in the eye. If you did, you would see tears of his own threatening to spill, but at the moment all you saw was red.

“You’ve known... for a year?”

“Y/N,” Oikawa attempted to reach out to you, but you stepped back and slapped his hand away.

“Is this why you’ve been blowing me off lately,” you whispered, Oikawa’s odd behavior finally beginning to click in heard.

You haven’t felt the touch of Oikawa’s hands in weeks; the very same ones that always reached out for you, guiding you to exactly where you need to be with their permanent presence on the small of your back. His eyes that always seems to be able find you in any crowd were downcast, shifted away until you forgot what it felt like to melt under their intensity.

At first, you simply chalked it up to his devastating loss against his oh so beloved kohai. Nationals had been a dream of Oikawa’s that will now never come into fruition. You, of all people, knew the overwhelming heartache of coming up short. It was his passion and dedication to the sport that drew you to him, after all.

But after weeks of near radio silence, you start to feel yourself begin to unravel. Had you done something wrong? Was he still this upset about the loss? Is there something more you could to help alleviate some of his stress? Is he starting to lose interest in you? Maybe he doesn’t find you attractive anymore?

These were thoughts that would never have even had the chance to cross your mind before. Now, the lack of sleep and uneasiness building in your chest had you two seconds away from bursting.

Instead, you felt your whole existence deflate when you had been handed back your first failing grade. The angry red marks began to swim in your peripherals, wondering how you could possibly have let yourself fallen this far.

You had one goal. One clear goal. Now, your vision had been expertly muddled by wavy brown hair and bright teal volleyball shorts.

“And you just made this decision without even thinking of me?” Your voice cracked at the last accusatory word of your question, growing increasingly irritated Oikawa’s unusual silence.

It’s infuriating the more you thought about it, really. You didn’t want this. You never wanted any of this. You just wanted to graduate high school at the top of your class, get into a good college, and start working your way up in the world. You were content to stay in your little bubble if it meant that you’d be able to achieve your dreams.

But Oikawa was Oikawa. He was simply too bright to ignore. And like Icarus to the sun, you thought yourself invincible until you flew close enough to burn from his radiance.

“What am I in your life?” You spat out, and the words left a bitter taste in your mouth, “Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

Oikawa’s head snapped up, anguish stamped on his features as he desperately said, “You’re not nothing to me!”

“Then how could you do this?” You pleaded, disgusted at your pathetic groveling.

Oikawa shook his head, as if begging you to understand. “It’s not about what or how much you mean to me. I have to do this for myself and my future.”

It was so ironic, it made you livid.

Oikawa Tooru had successfully wedged himself into your life, deconstructing your walls brick by brick, gracing you with the warmth of his presence and the ardor of his love.

Only so he could be face to face as he drove the knife into your heart himself, allowing you a taste of pseudo happiness until it was time for him to take it away.

“Good luck in Argentina, Oikawa.”

His eyes widened at use of his last name, panic shooting across his features as he tried to stop you from leaving.

“Wait, Y/N -“

“Good bye.”

And you knew it wasn’t fair to him. You knew he was only doing what he felt was right, you understood that much too perfectly. It was irrational of you to shed tears over the most logical choice for Oikawa to make. You should be supportive, you knew that. But the embittered thought of being left behind was just too heavy to bear.

You walked away and never looked back, leaving behind two broken hearts.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

(You look up at the sky as an airplane left trails of clouds that blasted through a sunset painted with pastel pinks and purple hues.

You briefly wondered if this plane was taking Oikawa Tooru back home.

It never is.)

[markberries]

n e v e r  e n o u g h┊draco malfoy

anon requested: hi!! can i request an angst/? imagine where slytherin!reader and draco have always been friends and are part of the same group (blaise, pansy, etc) and reader is in love with draco and is always there for him, but draco does not value her or the things that she does and had done for him, and he actually thinks she’s kinda annoying??? idk if this makes sense :(

info: you always did everything for draco, it’s unfortunate that he never realized how important you were to his life until you were gone.

warnings: cursing

genre: angst

word count: 1.3k+

a/n: hiiii everyone ♥ send me cedric reqs because i just watched tenet and robert pattison was so FINE i cannot.. also this was quite short bc there wasn’t much to go off of,, but enjoy!!

people always said that everything you did for draco was crazy, because it was so obvious that he didn’t care. you never listened, draco was one of your best friends. you knew each other since you were in diapers, and your families were quite close.

of course, you had been pining for draco for months now, you never acted on it, in fear of ruining the “friendship” you two had. you were friends with quite a lot of people within your house, you were a very sociable person and being a slytherin didn’t stop you from talking to people in other houses.

most of the slytherins looked down upon your positive attitude, but you didn’t mind. 

the clock on the far wall of your history of magic classes ticked loudly, echoing through the silent room. your fingers grazed your notebook sitting on your desk as you watched others around the room complete their written test. people’s pencils danced across their papers, you could hear the sighs of students who failed to study beforehand.

you felt someone nudge your shoulder, whispering a “pst”. you turned your head to look at draco, who was obviously stressed, his pleading face basically begging you to help him, as you were the smartest and quickest person to finish the test.

you weren’t surprised, of course. you assisted draco with all his problems, whether they be small or large. you never expected anything back — that’s what made you easy to be taken advantage of.

draco knew of this, and he knew that you were clueless to his actions. yes, you may have been childhood friends, but draco didn’t care. he didn’t care if he ended up breaking your heart, he didn’t care to lose you as a “friend” (as you call it), and he couldn’t think of a valid reason that could make him care.

“i didn’t study for this test,” he whispers to you, you hold back a grin. in your point of view, this was an opportunity to assist malfoy and to gain admiration from him, but everyone else knew damn well that he was using you.

“okay,” you say in a small voice slightly pushing your paper towards him. he smirks, eyes switching back and forth from his paper to your own, quickly writing down answers. blaise, sitting to your right, gives draco a disappointed look. in response, draco is quick to stick his tongue out and continue to finish his test.

—

“why do you keep doing that?” blaise pulls draco aside after the test, but made sure to let you walk off before scolding him. chatter erupted around them, the sound of pansy’s familiar voice ranting about something to you getting farther away.

draco scrunches his eyebrows, gathering his items and placing them in his book bag. “doing what?”

“you know exactly what you’re doing, malfoy,” blaise tells him. draco felt like he was being lectured by his mother, something he also did not like. draco’s foot taps against the hardwood floor, a slight echo following it. he was irritated — it’s not like it was his fault that you liked him.

“what? she likes to help me, anyway. i don’t see a problem here. what are you gonna do about it? tell her? like she’ll believe you.”

draco was blaise’s friend, if that’s what you can even call it. being close with him didn’t mean that draco didn’t know how to push his buttons though. blaise thought for a moment, wondering if he should tell you after all. how would you handle it? would you be in shock? stay silent — afraid to speak, maybe. or maybe you would cry, sob like someone had died. you were a big crier, after all. maybe you wouldn’t believe blaise, maybe you were so obsessed with malfoy that you’d completely disregard anything blaise said.

so he decided to stay silent.

both draco and blaise began walking to the great hall, an awkward aura sitting in the cool air. you sat patiently, waiting for the two, but listening to pansy talk about her boy problems at the same time.

you wanted to tell draco how you felt, you were tired of hiding it. you hated the feeling of holding in the urge to explode and hug him when you saw him, you were confident that this was the right choice.

“go away,” draco’s voice yelled out, followed by a sniffle. you poked your head around the hallway corner, seeing draco with puffy eyes and a frown upon his face. your heart swelled, all you wanted to do was help him.

“draco? are you okay?” you said to him, walking over slowly.

“i said leave.”

“you know i can’t just leave you here, can’t you just tell me why you’re acting like this?”

draco goes quiet for a second, thinking. finally, he turns around with a nod.

you remembered that day ever so clearly, draco had been having trouble at home, disappointing but expected. draco opened up to you that day, pouring out his feelings, but walking away as if nothing had happened after that.

that was the first time he hugged you, arms wrapping around your waist tightly, a quiet sob into your shoulder. you wiped his tears that day, telling him everything would work out in the end.

your face lights up when you see him and blaise walk through the door, the same scowl on his face as always, blaise with a slight smile. they walk over to you, pansy, crabbe, and goyle.

this is it.

telling someone you’re in love with them shouldn’t be that hard, right? guys had done it to you before. they didn’t seem upset when you politely said no, they respected your choice (most of the time).

draco rejects you, that would be the worst outcome. confessing shouldn’t be hard, but it felt hard. the feeling of dread creeping up on you as you stood up, taking steps towards the two boys.

adrenaline pumping through you, anxious thoughts filling your head while you begged your feet to sit back down, yet your heart pushed them further, speaking for you when you asked, “draco? can i talk to you?”

walking with him outside of the great hall is what stressed you out more, steps away from spilling out your thoughts of admiration about him. did he already know? what could happen? does he have a girlfriend that i don’t know about?

soon enough, you were merely feet apart from each other, eyes locked onto one another. you tried to speak, opening your mouth, but no sound came out. you were scared.

draco’s piercing eyes were getting impatient, he wanted you to spit it out already, and soon enough, you did.

“i like you.”

he stays unfazed, careless, and still staring at you. you expected him to say something, anything. he chuckles, running a hand through this hair.

“do you think i’m mental? i already knew.”

your heart stops for a moment, you’re unsure of how to reply, and the only thing you could focus on was the ringing in your head, bouncing from ear to ear.

“you’re just so.. irritating. could you not cling to me, for like 5 seconds? i can’t do this, seriously. i thought you saw already, but clearly you’re as oblivious as everyone thought you were. i don’t like you, y/n. for god’s sake, just leave me be. stop hanging around my friends. they don’t like you either.”

as stated before, you were a big crier. you knew that your eyes were probably red already, tears running down your face. it had taken you a minute to process it as you stood still, no one in the hallway except for you two.

how had i not seen this coming?

your hands stayed by your sides, gripping at the fabric on your skirt, knuckles turning white. you thought draco was your best friend.

“you’re such an asshole. i’ve done so much for you, i’m your shoulder to cry on. i help you out on all your tests, assist with your projects, hell — i deal with your family problems. i listen to you, i listen to whatever you say, and i don’t think i’ve ever heard a “thanks” from you, once! so you know what? enjoy your life without me. i ‘m sure it’ll be fantastic.”

and with that, you walked away, a fresh feeling of hurt lingering in your heart, and a stinging sense of regret in malfoy’s.

[darkisrising]

What fairly universal dinluke headcanons do you find yourself returning to over and over? Why do you find them compelling?

Hey you! Thanks for the ask!!!! (I'm soooo bored without a laptop 😭😭)

I think the thing I can't seem to escape in my dinluke fics is this idea that they are absolutely, 10000%, for sure going to get Mandalorian married. It's now happened in so many of my fics that it's seriously becoming a problem. I don't think I've ever married a pair as many times as I've done it to these two.

I don't think it's because of some deep seated need for me that they have a "traditional" long term relationship as we might see it in our world. I might be married myself but I don't see it as some magic institution that automatically means forever love. Marriage is NOT for everyone and yet I can't shake the notion that it's absolutely right for THEM.

Din's journey in the show makes it clear that family is very important to him. Having a clan of two meant something significant for him. It was a seismic shift in his life and his perception of himself. Do I always agree with his parenting? Hell no, and frequently the parent in me needed to walk away when he was, say, telling his toddler to play with live wires. BUT it's clear by how much more he laughs, how much happier he sounds, that in his bones he's meant to be a family man. Also, not for nothing, but he needed the armorer to tell him formally he was a clan with Grogu, so I imagine he'd similarly need a formally acknowledged relationship with someone to be more comfortable.

Luke, I think, is a social creature. He needs others around, which is why he fell so easily into the rebellion and the friendships he did in the OT. Which is also why he became an angry blue milk guzzling mountain man in the ST when he went into iso away from others. He's not good with being alone. And since I don't like what he turned into in those movies I'm convinced we need to interrupt that timeline by giving him bonds with people that are strong enough to pull him back from the brink if he decides, say, that he absolutely needs to lightsaber his nephew because a bad dream told him to. Din would NEVER let him get away with that nonsense, especially not to a child.

So I guess that's why I find the marriage thing compelling enough to return to, because it seems like something they could both benefit from. Further, I think those particular vows articulate their relationship, their values and the realities of being two of the (almost) last of their kind really well.

***

Wanna send an ask? Go ahead. Make my day.

[retrogradedreaming]

heyyyyyy if you wanna write more sk8 prompt / headcanon things,,, may i request (imma give you options because i am ✨indecisive✨and don't know what you'd want to write lol)

okay so shadow giving the group friendship bracelets (idk how you feel about writing for shadow hence the other options because i panicked and this was the first thing i thought of lol)

or langa just sitting down and talking to carla because i feel like he would (also kind of a weird one lol)

or uhhh oH you like matchablossom ! joe feeling self-conscious about acne scars (or having acne as a teen ???) and cherry telling him that he's beautiful (in whatever way cherry would iuygfyuhi)

sorry for three options lol this is also partially a way to procrastinate doing my homework ✌🏻so thank you for providing me a means of distraction anYWAYS HAVE A GOOD DAY iuhgcfghuijokijhgv

Sorry this took a while!! I went with the first prompt for a challenge and it ended up WAY longer than I thought. I hope you like it! And thanks for sending these! I love the other ideas, too, so I might come back to them.

---

If there was anything Shadow knew, it was how to curate an image. At work, he created arrangements and bouquets to say exactly what the customer wanted. When he skated, he was the clown punk of the S community. Until recently, he’d never let those identities overlap. Now that they had, it felt almost like forming a third persona—except this wasn’t one he had to work so hard to maintain.

He’d started making the bracelets offhandedly at work on a slow afternoon at the flower shop, braiding and weaving colorful thread from the supply drawer. They normally used it to dress up orders, but there was so much that they wouldn’t miss a few feet. He didn’t realize that he was making them for his new group of friends until he’d finished the second one, and by then it seemed a waste not to finish the job. Now that he had friends who knew and actually liked both sides of him, he felt like they deserved...something. Something to show them what it meant to him, that it mattered.

And yet, once he’d finished them all, the idea of giving them to everyone made his chest tighten as he thought that maybe they’d all judge him after all. As Shadow, it was easier to pretend not to care, but he couldn’t pretend it wouldn’t mean something—something he didn’t want it to mean—if they did.

Still, the next night he showed up at S, five bracelets laden with charms and beads clacking together in his pocket. He swore he could hear them, even with the crowd around him. His palms sweat beneath his gloves, and he was only grateful that no one else could see how nervous he was behind his makeup. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous, even for a beef. This should be easy. His friends wouldn’t just reject him over some bracelets. And if they took them home and threw them away, well...at least he wouldn’t be there to see it, so what did he care?

“Hey, you good, Shadow?”

Shadow jumped, and it was only when he stopped to look for the source of the voice that he noticed that he’d walked right by the same people he’d been looking for. Reki leaned forward, one foot on his board, looking intently at Shadow and obviously expecting an answer.

“Of course I’m good,” Shadow barked, but Reki didn’t seem convinced. He raised a brow and shrugged, shoving one hand in his pocket and absently raising one of his hoodie strings to put it between his teeth.

“If you say so,” Reki said, settling back against Langa’s shoulder. “You seem kinda weird tonight, though.”

“What do you mean weird?” Shadow shouted, voice low and gravelly. “I’m supposed to be weird! It’s not my fault you don’t know what it means to get into character.”

“He’s right, though,” Miya chimed in. “It’s outside your normal weirdness, and it’s kind of creeping me out.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Shadow exclaimed, and his heart sank. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of, and part of him was already shoving his plan to the back of his mind, ready to leave the bracelets in his pocket and toss them himself once he got home. He could do it, and no one would know but him.

“It’s true,” Cherry mused from where he stood in Joe’s shadow. “You don’t usually look so...bothered when you’re here.”

“Listen—” Shadow began, whipping his hand from his pocket, only to hear a soft clacking as two of the bracelets hit the ground—the one he’d intended for Reki, bright red and decorated with beads of different sizes and a bright orange alstroemeria flower charm, and the other for Langa, soft blue thread woven simply with a white gerbera.

“What’s that?” Miya asked before Shadow could scoop them up and hide them again. He almost did anyway, almost tried to pass them off as some trick meant for a beef he wasn’t even skating tonight. In the end, he resigned himself to risking every single friendship he’d built over the past several months, and sighed as he held out the bracelets to Reki and Langa.

“I made them,” he said, and his voice lost some of the edge he reserved for his S persona. “Sorry I didn’t wrap them or anything. I didn’t wanna do anything too fancy, y’know? Anyway, if you hate it, at least wait until I’m not around to get rid of ‘em.”

Reki took his without hesitation, Langa picking his own up out of Shadow’s palm like he might break it if he weren’t careful. Reki twisted the beads between his fingers, rubbing them over the different sizes like they were a miniature skating course as a grin spread across his face. Langa immediately tried putting his on, fumbling until Reki paused long enough to help him tie it around his wrist.

“It’s soft,” Langa said, running his fingertips over the delicate braiding, and that told Shadow all he needed to know. Langa was particular about textures, and he always stuck with the same clothing brands because he knew how the fabric felt. Shadow knew to take it as a compliment when Langa left the bracelet on.

A weight felt like it had lifted from Shadow’s shoulders, and he let himself relax. He took the last three bracelets from his pocket, offering the next to Miya. The vibrant purple thread stood out next to the others, and it was the only one he’d added an extra charm to—a silver cat paw—along with the freesia he’d chosen for the youngest member of their group.

“I didn’t know a slime could make something so tasteful,” Miya remarked as he let Shadow tie it around his wrist.

“Watch who you’re calling a slime,” Shadow growled, though there was almost no bite behind the words. “I can always take that back.”

“After all that just to take it out of your pocket?” Miya scoffed, flicking the paw with a finger. “You wouldn’t.”

It was true, Shadow thought, as he turned to give the last two to Cherry and Joe. He wouldn’t dare take them back when his friends actually seemed to like them, and even more than that seemed grateful to receive them. It was what he’d hoped for, but he’d also learned by now to hope for the best and expect the worst so he didn’t get too disappointed if things didn’t work out. After all, so few things in his life had happened as he expected, for better or worse, and now, as he handed over a thin pink and brown woven bracelet and another green and woven like thick rope, he wanted to savor this thing that had.

“Hey, it’s not a cherry blossom,” Joe pointed out as he peered sideways at Cherry’s bracelet.

“Yeah, I thought it would be too obvious,” Shadow said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The zinnia is appropriate,” Cherry said, eyes roving over Shadow’s handiwork as if he were trying to find fault. And yet, when he took his eyes away from it, he gave Shadow a smile that Shadow recognized as the same one he practiced for most others at S—except this one reached his eyes. “A symbol of acclaim and enduring friendship, correct? Certainly more refined than jealousy.”

“What do you mean?” Joe demanded when Cherry gestured to the bracelet in his hands.

“A yellow rose stands for jealousy,” Cherry said matter-of-factly.

“It means friendship, too,” Shadow cut in before their squabbling could turn into a full blown argument. What he didn’t say was that he knew yellow roses also symbolized jealousy. He worked at a flower shop, after all, and had put together enough subtle spite bouquets for people forced into occasions they didn’t want to attend that he of course knew all the various meanings of different flowers. Roses were some of the most versatile, and he’d hoped no one would pick up on the alternate meaning—the one that said he envied Joe’s strength as much as he valued his friendship.

“Put it on for me,” Cherry said, holding the bracelet out to Joe and lifting the hem of his pants to reveal his ankle.

“Sure, princess,” Joe said, taking the bracelet and stooping to the ground.

“Where’s yours?” Langa asked, eyes migrating to Shadow’s wrists, clad only in his spiked gloves. Shadow followed his gaze, turning his hands over absently, as if he didn’t already know he’d never made himself a bracelet.

“I didn’t make myself one,” he said. “It’s kinda weird to make a friendship bracelet for yourself.”

“I don’t think so,” Langa mused. “You’re our friend, so you shouldn’t be the only one without a bracelet.”

“Hey, yeah,” Reki said, grasping Shadow’s hand and inspecting his wrist like if he looked hard enough, a bracelet would materialize.

Shadow pulled his hand away. “It’s not a big deal. I made those for you guys because you’re the only people who know this me and the other me. I just wanted to do something to show that I...well…”

“That you care,” Miya supplied, and Shadow was glad that his mask covered the heat that rose to his face.

“Whatever,” he muttered, only to catch Reki and Joe both grinning out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s still not the same if you don’t have one,” Reki said, tapping at the beads on his own bracelet. He thought for a moment, and just as Shadow opened his mouth to say it was fine, that he’d make himself one eventually if it was that big a deal, Reki’s face lit up. Before Shadow could ask about it, the group was already dissolving to skate, each person wearing their respective bracelets.

The next time they gathered at S, Reki gave Shadow a gift of his own—a bracelet woven in orange thread bearing a yellow chrysanthemum.

[nillegible]

Not Death, but Sleep

(A 3zun fix-it fic)

‘Not death, but sleep,’ the story went. The little well spirit, too weak to break the death-curse that a greater dark spirit that had placed over the innocent baby, had pressed her hand to the infant’s forehead. She had poured all her soul into a single blessing, all her strength for one thing only; that the child would sleep, not die.

“Why couldn’t she practice and grow stronger?” Meng Yao would ask, and Mother would laugh and poke his cheek and tell him that well-spirits are very small, but she tried her best. The story always sat wrongly with Meng Yao. Back then it had, at least. It was not fair that the well spirit couldn’t fix what was wrong. It wasn’t fair that the princess had been cursed as a baby, before she’d done anything to deserve it. It wasn’t fair that the queen couldn’t find anyone but a forgotten little well-spirit to try to save her child. “It’s not fair,” he’d tell her, each time the well-spirit blessed the infant and fell short of her desire, and each time his mother would smile.

“Ah, my precious A-Yao, you are right. But the world is not fair, and she could only do what she could do.” Mother would say, smiling in that soft way of hers, pinching his cheek lightly, before she continued the story. “Because it seemed hopeless, the king demanded that every spindle in the land be…”

Meng Yao Jin Guangyao likes the story no better now, but he understands more than he did back then. Jin Guangyao was also too weak. “She could only do what she could,” Mother would say, and he now understands the heartbreak of that being not enough.

“I want you to kill Nie Mingjue,” Father had told him, two weeks ago, now. His voice had been low but pleasant, like he’d only been asking Jin Guangyao to pour him more tea.

“Father, I’m trying to get him to stop asking about Xue Yang, I’m sure that I can–”

“I have given you time. And it is not just that boy. Nie Mingjue grows troublesome in other matters as well, he seeks to destabilize me at every turn. You will remove him.” His voice had stayed pleasant. His eyes had glittered coldly with warning: Jin Guangyao was far less valuable than a Sect Leader, and would be far far easier to dispose of.

“I understand Father. I will take care of it,” Jin Guangao had said, and has not had a moment’s peace since.

*

It doesn’t take him long to decide on a method.

Or rather, it’s not long before the ideal method is dropped straight into his lap. Er-ge requests a favor, asks him to please learn Cleansing, a powerful Lan sect technique to clear resentment and settle an unquiet spirit. Nie Mingjue’s temper and health were in decline, and Er-ge wants Jin Guangyao to help him heal. His hope – that this would give them an opportunity to mend the broken trust and friendship between them – was transparently obvious, but Jin Guangyao has never found place in his heart to deny this man anything.

“We can help him, A-Yao. We must. Da-ge is not himself, and we need to… We cannot lose him.”

Lying is no harder than speaking, for Meng Yao, but this time the lie tears into his lungs. “Of course, Er-ge. His brothers will support him until he is well again.” I’ve been asked to kill him, Er-ge. Why would you trust me with this?

It does not matter that he does not want to do it. Jin Guangyao practices Cleansing at Qinghe under Lan Xichen’s careful tutelage. At Lanling, he spends sleepless nights perfecting a darker, foreign melody, meant to tear someone’s sanity apart.

His heart is troubled, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the lack of sleep, the discordant notes he coaxes from his guqin each night, or the cold, lingering gaze of his Father that seems to ask, have you begun? Will he die?

The answer is yes. Yes, Jin Guangyao will kill him, because he has been asked. Because when it comes down to it, he is the dark spirit that had lost its way, and would destroy someone who was undeserving of the malice. Someone who was loved.

The first time that Jin Guangyao plays the piece for Nie Mingjue, his heart pounds in fear while his hands elegantly play the butchered, chimeric tune. He’s afraid that his eldest sworn brother would notice the difference in the song, would notice that it felt wrong, even after the last note is played and lingers in the room as he looks up to meet Nie Mingjue’s eyes. But Nie Mingjue, even tenser and more ill-tempered than he was before Jin Guangyao started to play, just nods and thanks him shortly and walks away.

It’s terribly rude; Jin Guangyao would be injured by such treatment on any other day.

Today, he has begun slowly killing the man. He will not take insult.

*

Jin Guangyao spends his time after returning to Lanling terribly nervous, unable to focus as usual. Perhaps Nie Mingjue had not confronted him immediately, but would reached out to Lan Xichen with his suspicions?

His fears are unfounded; a letter arrives for him a week later from Sect Leader Nie. Could he trouble Jin Guangyao to return and play for him soon? He did not wish to disturb their second brother, who was still busy with the rebuilding of his sect.

Jin Guangyao promptly sends a response: He would be honoured to help, he would make the time to visit as soon as possible. (His fingers do not tremble on the guqin strings as he practices the song alone, in preparation. He wonders at the monster he’s become.)

It’s while he’s playing for Nie Mingjue the second time that it happens. His eldest sworn brother is doing his best to relax – there’s incense, and the tea they were served has calming properties – but Jin Guangyao’s music is doing as intended, and Nie Mingjue’s face is visibly tense, his jaw locked, and the longer it goes on the worse it gets.

It’s partly the music, partly the frustration that he isn’t calming down as he should be. Jin Guangyao imagines that it is not unlike the panic that insomnia brings him, the desperate desire to just fall asleep making him anxious enough to drive any semblance of rest from him as he lies awake in the dark.

His fingers fumble on the strings and he stops, startled. Nie Mingjue’s eyes open and he looks to him questioningly. “Is something wrong, Meng Yao?”

It’s the wrong name. Always the wrong name. But at the moment, for what he wishes, it may just be the right one. Nie Mingjue has wronged Meng Yao many times, but Nie Mingjue was also the one who had defended him from cultivators who taunted and mistreated him. Nie Mingjue was the first person to value him, to give him a chance to prove his worth, and then acknowledged that he did well.

It was because the queen had swept the well-spirit’s forgotten shrine, Jin Guangao remembers. That was why the well-spirit stepped up to divert the curse.

He stares a moment longer at Nie Mingjue, long enough that he frowns, and this time Jin Guangao imagines his brows are creasing in worry not anger. “Are you alright, you’ve gone pale.” His voice still betrays his temper; a barely contained inferno, but Jin Guangyao is partially to blame for that.

“Forgive, me, Da-ge. May I start again?”

“If you need a break, you can have one. You can play for me later,” Nie Mingjue says.

“No, please, close your eyes again. I merely realized something.”

Still looking faintly suspicious, Nie Mingjue does as asked and shuts his eyes.

Jin Guangyao sets his fingers to the guqin and plays again. This time the music is simple and clear, lifting and rejuvenating. When Jin Guangyao plays the last notes and looks up, the anger has melted away from his sworn brother. He’s smiling faintly, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes catch on the softness of it.

When Nie Mingjue opens his eyes, and sees Jin Guangyao watching, the smile doesn’t fade. “You figured something out, didn’t you? This time felt so much better.”

“Yes, Da-ge. I was a poor student, Er-ge will not be pleased with me for taking so long… but I understand now.”

“Xichen will never be displeased with you, that you play it so well without the Lan’s rigorous training is a credit to your skills. And I thank you,” Nie Mingjue says. He breathes deep, as if enjoying that he can. That faint smile has still not vanished. “I am much improved.”

Jin Guangao knows. The spiritual power of Cleansing is considerable, and when played correctly and regularly it could bolster Nie Mingjue’s spirit and life for decades longer.

“You’re welcome Da-ge. I promise. I promise to do what I can to help you.” And this promise is not a lie, not a vow he means to break.

Father wants Nie Mingjue dead, and Jin Guangao does not have the means to stop him.

But he can divert the curse.

Not death, but sleep.  

That, Jin Guangao can do.

[Author’s Note: The particular form of the sleeping beauty story used here I got from Vathara’s fic Embers! It’s a gorgeous version and I love it. 

Somehow an old post of mine, where I said I should write a fic about MY hiding NMJ away and faking his death to appease JGS popped back up? I’d completely forgotten about it. But well, it’s a lovely idea, so I thought I’d start on it!  I hope you liked the fic!]

[nordleuchten]

Who was Lafayette friends with throughout his life, and were there people he wasn’t so friendly with? Thanks :)

Hello Anon,

La Fayette was the sort of person who made friends easily. He was not a grumpy person, being on good terms with somebody was his default mood so to speak – but there were also more than enough people with whom he was not on the best terms. During the French Revolution they did not call him “the most hated Man in Europe” for no reason. After all that I have read it strikes me as if you either loved or hated La Fayette and that there was little middle ground. The point that I want to make; I had to draw the line somewhere. The list I am going to present you is by no means complete. There are many names that could (and probably should) be added. Without further ado, lets get started.

Starting in America, we have George Washington. I think there is not much more that needs to be said about their relationship. It is commonly known how close they were and how much their relationship meant for both of them. Beside Washington, there was Alexander Hamilton. He and La Fayette first met early on in the War for American Independence. Hamilton was fluent in French and close in age to La Fayette. Their friendship was quickly formed and grew stronger as time progressed. Back home in France, La Fayette wrote Hamilton with a special proposal. Hamilton should send his oldest boy, Phillip, over to Paris, there to be educated under La Fayette’s guidance, while La Fayette would send his boy, Georges Washington, over to America, there to receive an education with Hamilton as a guardian. This plan never came to fruition, but when Georges Washington had to flee France for America during the French Revolution, Hamilton and his family took him in and tried to help him as good as they could. La Fayette never forgot that. After Hamilton’s untimely death in 1804 he wrote to George Washington Parke Custis that:

“Hamilton was to me, my dear Sir, more than friend, he was a brother. We were both very young, when associated with our common father; our friendship, formed in days of peril and glory, suffered no diminution from time: with Tilghman and with Laurens, I was upon terms the most affectionate; but with Hamilton, my relations were brotherly.”

This quote not only gives insight in La Layette’s with Hamilton but also perfectly sums up his relationship with John Laurens and Tench Tilghmam: most affectionate.

On to some people who are sometimes forgotten - James McHenry and James Monroe. James McHenry first met La Fayette when they both were members in George Washington staff. McHenry later transferred to La Fayette’s staff (March of 1781) and was one of his most trusted aide-de-camps. He often was chosen as La Fayette’s “liaison-officer”. I have three excerpts from letters by La Fayette, detailing his relationship to McHenry. The first one was written by La Fayette to McHenry on February 15, 1781, a few months before McHenry joined his staff:

My tender friendship and affectionate Regard for You, will Not lengthen this letter with Assurances from My Heart While the Heart itself must Be known to You. I intend to write You Again in a few days and with Every Sentiment of Attachement and Esteem Have the Honor to be Yours Lafayette

The second letter was addressed to General Greene on August 12, 1781, concerning a potential transfer McHenry’s in Greene’s staff.

McHenry is So well Acquainted with My Sentiments for Him that He knows My attachement is independant of whatever Steps He Might take on the occasion. He knows I am not of a temper that finds faults with the Measures of My friends, and that I will ever feel an obligation to the Man who obliges General Greene.

The last letter was written to McHenry on December 26, 1783. McHenry at this point had already retired from the army.

As an ardent lover of America I am glad to Hear of the influence You are said to Have in Congress. As Your most affectionate friend I shall Be glad whenever You Have an opportunity to display Your abilities. If Congress do not send me Any Commands, I shall Most Certainly embark in the spring. If they Have Commands for me, I would Be thrice Happy to Receive You along with them, and to Make with you french and European travels. You ought to Make them charge you with some political commission to Courts in Europe, and I would like going as a volonteer with you. [Manuscript torn; part a line missing] Your family and our friends. Most affectionately I am for [manuscript torn; several words missing]. Lafayette

I showed you this many letters for several reason. First, McHenry deserves more attention if you ask me. Second, they show not only their emotional relationship but also their professional relationship and illustrate how convinced La Fayette was by McHenry’s merits - and lastly, I like them all and could not decide. :-) Years later, during La Fayette’s imprisonment, McHenry was among the people who tried to help him gain his freedom.

On to James Monroe. Monroe was, just like Hamilton, close in age to La Fayette (actually, La Fayette was older then Monroe by several months) and spoke French. They both moved in the same social circle during the Revolution and had some common friends. It was also Monroe, who, with the backing of Congress, invited La Fayette to visit America once more in 1824/1825. La Fayette received the rights to some land during this visited and later gifted some of this land to Monroe so that Monroe could start paying off his mounting debts. Here is what La Fayette wrote to Monroe on December 19, 1784:

My dear Sir I Have Received your letter to mr jefferson, and shall very Carefully deliver it. Our old friend Gibbs will give you a Bundle of papers for McHenry which I Beg you will keep for Him untill He Comes to Trenton. To morrow morning, My dear Sir, I set out for Europe, and Before I go, it is pleasing for me once more to assure you of the value I Have By Your friendship, and of the affection and regard I Have the Honor to Be With My dear Sir Yours Lafayette

I may or may not have chosen this letter because McHenry also makes an appearance - but Thomas Jefferson is also mentioned, so the selection is valid, because Thomas Jefferson is the next one on our list. Jefferson’s and La Fayette’s friendship blossomed especially during Jefferson stay in Paris as ambassador to the French. La Fayette even consulted with Jefferson when writing the Déclaration des droits de l'homme et du citoyen de 1789. Later, when they met again during La Fayette’s last visit to the United States in 1824/25, they embraced each other and cried tear of joy over the fact of being able to see each other again.

With that, I would like to leave America behind and move on to England. More people could be added though. We see in La Fayette’s letter to General Greene for example, how close these two were. La Fayette had a very friendly relationship with most generals, officers and aide-de-camps in the army.

In England, we see something very interesting. Many of his friends there were actually former opponents of his during the War of Independence - when the House of Commons discussed whether the British Government should try to take actions or not, some of La Fayette’s most vocal allies were veterans of the War of Independence. Another noteworthy friend of his was the Whig politician Charles James Fox. Who really stands out among La Fayette’s English friends tough, is a young women. Her name was Francis “Fanny” Wright. I have planed to write on her separately at some near point in the future and because this post is already way too long we keep things brief. Fanny was a feminist, abolitionist and social reformer. I wager that some of her ideas and proposals would even today be considered somewhat controversial. But she and La Fayette grew quite close and she even accompanied him on his tour in America in 1824/25 (although not officially). Their friendship illustrates two things about La Fayette. He had many female friends – not just female friends, but strong and intelligent and outspoken female friends – and he was not at all faced by that. He also had friends that were considered “bad company” – and again, he was not really put off by that. With that being said, let us continue to France.

France was his native country and he had many friends there; starting with his family and his in-laws. With only a few exceptions La Fayette had close and loving relationships with his family members. There is this one lovely quote from a letter he wrote his wife Adrienne on October 29, 1777 that I simply had to quote:

“(...) for my daughter will be always, I trust, my most intimate friend; I will only be a father in affection, and parental love shall unite in my heart with friendship.”

You have to keep in mind that La Fayette was a nobleman from the 18th century. Such affection for your children, especially daughters, was common not as one would like to think. But of course he had also friends outside his family.

First in my mind there is the La Tour-Maubourg family. Three brothers with all three of whom La Fayette was close. Marie-Victor-Nicolas de Faÿ, marquis de La Tour-Maubourg was a General during the Napoleonic Wars and saw a lot of action. For a short time he was imprisoned with La Fayette but then quickly released. I would say that La Fayette was probably the least close with him. Next up is Juste-Charles de Faÿ de la Tour-Maubourg who was also captured by the Austrians but just as quickly released as his brother. He later married La Fayette’s oldest daughter Anastasie. The current King of Belgium is their descendant. The last brother was Charles César de Fay de La Tour-Maubourg and again, as if to continue a family tradition – he was captured together with La Fayette but unlike his two brothers, he was only released in 1787. I would say that La Fayette was the closest with him. After the death of his wife Adrienne, La Fayette wrote him a very, very long letter, basically laying all his grief and pain and anguish bare. Another dear friend was Bureau de Pussy, again one of La Fayette’s fellow prisoners (being in prison or fighting in a war together appear to be La Fayette’s go-to bounding-activities).

Soooo ... after we have scraped the surface of the category “friends” we can move on to the category “not-so-friendly”. Great parts of La Fayette’s live were spend on the public stage ... and as you all can  very well imagine, he was bound to make some enemies there. Beside the people with whom he had a personal misunderstanding, there were the ones he enraged with his political opinions. He was a  well known supporter of the American Revolution and therefor not too dear to many people on England and to American Loyalists. Things became really interesting though, when the French Revolution gained speed. La Fayette was a centrist, he was searching for a middle path. That actually worked quite well for some time but as soon as more radical factions began to gain influence a middle ground became harder and harder to pursue. He Royalists called him a traitor to the monarchy and a revolutionary while the Revolutionaries called him a traitor to the Republic and a Royalist – he really could not win. While he was not well liked among the leading Revolutionaries (Robespierre, Saint-Just, you name them), few disliked him as much as Doctor Jean-Paul Marat did. I am currently reading  Marat’s L’amie de peuple and there a literally complete issues of the paper dedicated solely to La Fayette and all his alleged wrongdoings.

Things were not necessarily better on the side of the Royalists. When La Fayette entered the palace of Versailles after the event that came to be known as the Women's March on Versailles, he had to pass through a crowed of courtiers in order to reach the King and confer with him. Suddenly, a voice rose from the anonymity of the crowed – “Here comes Cromwell”, a courtier shouted. That is how many people at the court saw La Fayette at this time – as a French Cromwell. The Queen Marie Antoinette was on a later occasion reassured that she did not have to worry, La Fayette would protect her and the King. To that the Queen replied: “Lafayette is here to defend us, but who is to defend us against Lafayette.”

La Fayette’s troubled relationship with the Monarchs of France continued after the Revolution. He and Napoléon hat their ups and downs in their relationship – but mostly downs as time progressed. His relationship with Louis XVIII and especially with Charles X also was strained to put it mildly.

As I have said repeatedly, this is just a brief overview of La Fayette’s different relationships. I nevertheless hope that I could help you out with your question.

I hope you have/had a wonderful day!

[moonbeamsung]

ship your mutual with nct??

hihi and sure, anon!! i’d be happy to :D thanks for sending me this <3

this post is the continuation to part one, here!

is this lowkey polygamy because i’m combining multiple moots for the same member LMAO

part two: xiaojun-jisung

xiaojun: @jisungsmochi | @meraki-mark | @kaepopsicle 

↳ they can either seem kind of quiet or really confident at times, especially around people they know. it’s really enjoyable to talk with them and they have such loving personalities towards others! i can tell they put so much dedication into their writing and truly do it for their own enjoyment, not just for the enjoyment of others. i admire and look up to them a lot for these things i guess you could say, and so i’d ship nat, li, and kae with xiaojun!

hendery: @fruityutas | @yukwonghei 

↳ both emily and sam are really easy to become friends with!! they’re very creative and imaginative, also approachable and they make you feel welcome around them. i see them as really motivated and brave, and i’m sure they could achieve anything they put their mind to. their boldness and all these other personality traits remind me of hendery so that’s who i’d ship both of them with!

renjun: @radiorenjun | @kyuwoyo 

↳ i get serious renjun vibes from both of them, a little chaotic in the best kind of way! even if they send spontaneous asks or random messages i appreciate them checking in on me from time to time. they’re also just really strong people in general and even if he doesn’t show this side of himself all the time, they’re quite sympathetic and reassuring like renjun. so i’d ship angie and wowo with him!

jeno: @donkey-hyuck | @rouiyan | @moonlightjeno | @jenosslut | @hunjins 

↳ some of these moots i’ve known for longer than others, but that’s the thing: regardless of when you meet them it’s really easy to be comfortable and open with them, they’re really good listeners too! they also seem easygoing and calm, and can lend me or anyone a bit of support whenever they might need it, so i’d ship vy, ree, luna, eileen and ivet with jeno for sure.

haechan: @flirtyhyuck | @loonacitys | @channoticedmeuwu

↳ when i’m in need of a little love or affection i immediately think of these three. it seems like if there’s even a hint that i’m feeling a bit down they’re there in my inbox or messages to cheer me up, and regardless of how often or not often we talk i associate them with encouragement and support. they have some of the biggest hearts and have a gift for bringing others lots of happiness. also a bit playful, i’d ship them with haechan because i think kathy, tiya and kai share a lot of these qualities with him.

jaemin: @navyhyuck | @rvse-hvvck | @heartyyjeno | @prettyjaems | @neojaems 

↳ these moots make me feel loved like no other. seriously, they never run out of affection or kindness and they make my heart melt or zoom nearly every time we interact. they’re too dang sweet and it makes me want to cry. i love hearing from them no matter how often and just like jaemin, i feel so so so SO loved around them. vee, ana, alesha, mona and tahmina belong with jaemin, no questions asked!!

yangyang: @peachjaem00 | @asteroidsungie 

↳ i feel like there’s never a moment where i don’t see these two laughing or making others laugh on the dash. they’re both really sweet and cute and never fail to bring some joy into my day. lou and krystal can also be slightly (or very) chaotic with their humor but everyone loves them for it, and that has major yangyang energy to me, i’d ship them with him!

shotaro: @lovelygalaxy333 | @allegxdly 

↳ lilly and storm are so gentle and sincere in their personalities!! i love interacting with them because they’re both so sweet even if it’s just saying a quick hello to each other through an ask. they’re super lovable, too! i’m pretty sure they’re both a fan of cute things and they’re very cute themselves, just like shotaro! i think they’d get along well, 100%!!

sungchan: @zzzzzcakes | @mrkcore 

↳ our conversations always seem lighthearted and they both can lift my mood so much, we always seem to look out for each other! zel and freds remind me of sungchan in that they’re really charming in the most adorable way. they seem pretty confident and social and i’m happy that we’ve become friends, in both my interactions with them and in their interactions with others i can tell that everyone values their support and sincerity. think they’d make a good pair with sungchan!

chenle: @astroboy-lele | @euphoricdreamies 

↳ impeccable senses of humor, these two, and a whole lot of fun to interact with or talk to! both they and their works have me made me smile so much, chenle would definitely be perfect for furou and maddy!! chenle also shows he has a really sweet side though, which is true for both of them as well, and they deserve so much more appreciation for their amazing talents~

jisung: @fairvtale | @yunwoo | @sweetlyjaem | @chicksung 

↳ regardless of whether these four moots are older or younger or the same age as me, something about them makes me want to put them in my pocket and protect them. they’re some of the absolute sweetest people to interact with!! they have so much kindness to offer and they’re also just very cute in general🥺🥺i certainly get jisung vibes from keke, anna, yunn and sophie!

again, sorry that each description might sound a bit similar, but i could say so many of the same things about each of my moots because they’re all really special and mean a lot to me in their own way, my brain just doesn’t come up with enough different words to describe them <3 you’re all incredibly sweet and i’m always grateful for our friendships!!

[musicallisto]

Hello love,

Congratulations for the 800 followers! You absolutely deserve this and so much more! I'm happy to see how your blog grows and that you're still providing all of us with wonderful content. You're one of the first blogs that I've started to follow here on Tumblr and I'm so lucky to have found your blog ♡

As for your celebration event, could I please request a 🍨 vanilla milkshake with a male Peaky Blinders Character?

I'm more on the curvy side (and insecure about it) and I'm ALWAYS wearing black (which I love, no matter what others say or even more if they object). As for my personality, I'm a highly complex, paradox and complicated individium. I'm unbelievable patient, timid, awkward, kind, forgiving, open-minded, compassionate, thruthful, gentle and calm and I've been told that I have a calming effect on others, that I can easily ground anyone and anything, no matter how troubled their mind is. I prefer vintage over modern things. I think rather deep which often leads me to overthinking everything, which in turn leads me to doubting (very much) myself. You would be surprised how timid and reserved I am, I'm sure you wouln't notice me in a room full of people if it wouldn't be for my different appearance (but I like it this way). I'm always well-meaning, yet often misunderstood (maybe because it's hard for me to articulate myself). I can be incredible lazy, clumsy and forgetful. I've always felt like I don't really belong anywhere, so I've started to distance myself from others a while ago. I'm a outsider, weird, a dork, not normal, a loner and I fucking love it, because I like to be different, I would hate to fit into just one box and to be like everyone else. And I like people who are not ashamed to be their 100% true self, no matter how different that is from the mainstream. I'm the most loyal person you'll ever find, once you earn my trust, I'll always be on/by your side, no matter what. That says a lot, because I'm hard to scare away. Sometimes I feel alienated from the people and things surrounding me and I'm sure that I annoy and bore them. I'm very nervous and insecure around others, which is why I try to avoid people and why I'm not talking all that much around them (though, I'm a really good listener). I'm easily overwhelmed by large crowds and much light/noise, that's why I don't like to go outside, I prefer to cozy up at home. I would never intentionally hurt a animal and I'm not eating any meat, which is very important to me. I believe that there isn't a ounce of cruelty inside me. I'm unassuming and understanding, I only believe what I've witnessed on my own and I have endless acceptance for almost everything. Due to my Insomnia, I'm a night owl. I have strong personal values, am very opinionated and I'm really in-touch with myself and even though I'm extremly insecure, I would never reduce or change myself and views/opinions for someone and I neither have a problem to challenge authority and advocating for my beliefs. I'm a perfectionist and sometimes I really hate it. And, as you can see, I'm unable to be brief. My favourite colours are dark green, black, gold and dark purple. My greatest passion is music, even if I can't sing or play an instrument.(I prefer rock/punk/pop/80s/90s) It's the most calming and therapeutic thing when it comes to my anxiety and depression and I could never live a day without it. You will never see me in the street without headphones in my ears and even when I'm at home there's music playing almost all the time. I could talk for hours about music and what it means to me. And otherwise I love to watch films and series (I like fantasy, horror, psychological thriller, science fiction and psychological drama and almost anything from the 70s, 80s and 90s). I love rainy days and to go outside while it's pouring big, fat drops. What I love the most is to drive around without a destination, while talking and listening to music. And I love to spend time with my cat, if I could, I would have endless animals who live peacefully and loved with me. I enjoy to have deep talks and to be challenged to think. I love to take late-night-strolls, while gazing into the sky and watching the stars/moon. I have a fascination for dark and macabre things.

I really hope that's not too much? But thank you anyway ♡

Have a good day!

thank you so much for your kind words, you have no idea how much it means to me to know that I was one of the first blogs you followed ;; here’s your vanilla milkshake - and it’s also my first time writing for peaky blinders, but I hope it’s alright; and I hope finn shelby will find the portrait I paint of him accurate enough...

Birmingham was a drab and disheartening place enough without the war adding to its joylessness; but somehow the streets are even worse to bear deserted than when they’re bustling and fetid. Especially for a ten year old boy who wants nothing but to play with someone, to talk to someone, to see someone.

With his brothers off fighting somewhere in France and his aunt too busy with her businesses (adult stuff that Finn has absolutey no interest in attempting to understand), the youngest Shelby has been fighting off an affliction worse than consumption and measles, because much more insidious for a boy his age; boredom

and he’s so sad, so irrevocably sad, with no one to bruise his knees with and throw mud at, that he just aimlessly wanders the empty streets whenever aunt Polly isn’t looking, to find a semblance of stimulation

(he used to enjoy the solitude, it gave him time to imagine delirious stories in fantastical worlds and read the most enthralling of novels, but not anymore. four years of reclusion is an awfully long time for a little boy.)

and it’s during one of his escapades that he first meets you

you’re a little girl his age, dressed in a pretty dress, wearing pretty booties and holding a pretty little woven basket, but your face is stuck on the most grouchy frown he’s ever seen on a little girl, and you don’t walk, you stomp down the wet pavement like a wrathful titan

And it’s probably the first time in four years that he’s been this close to making a new friend, so he walks up to you, despite how rusty his communication skills have become

“Girls don’t frown. It’s unbecoming.”

(Yes, pretty rusty indeed; but in his defense, he’s ten, he’s bored, he’s lonely, and he’s only ever heard Ada say it, and Ada is the most level-headed of his siblings, so anything she says must be true, right?)

“Shut up.”

(Well, if it was unbecoming of you to frown, it’s even more to rebuff someone so rudely. You don’t even spare a glance and continue walking; he has to hurry to catch up to you.)

“You can’t say that. It’s a bad word.”

“How do you know that?”

“My family says it all the time, but they told me I can’t say it.”

“Well, my family is not your family. And I hate my family!”

You’ve yelled the last words at the sky, so loud that the crows on the neighboring roofs have taken off in a startled flight.

“They want to wear this stupid dress to go to the stupid market to buy stupid meat. I don’t even want to eat meat, that’s cruel! And I don’t even want to wear a frilly dress! I want to wear black!”

And in saying so you tugged at the pink and white ribbons that encircled your waist.

And Finn couldn’t help being extremely intrigued at this little girl who said bad words and refused to eat meet and wanted to wear black. It was the most exciting thing to ever happen in all the duration of the war.

“You want to wear a black dress?”

“Yes, but my mama won’t let me. She says it’s too sad because of the war. But black isn’t sad! Black is beautiful!”

“Maybe I could find you a black dress. I’m sure my sister must have one. Where do you live?”

And, loyal to his promise, the following morning he had run to your doorstep and snuck into your house - a proper Shelby talent, to be able to go unnoticed or make a ruckus depending on the occasion - with an old, crinkled mourning dress of Ada’s, that had probably belonged to his mother and had been mended several times

And it was obviously five sizes too big for you and you looked more like a ghost from one of Finn’s horror novels, your arms floating in the sleeves and the hem of the skirt pooling at your feet, but your smile was the brightest light he’d ever seen in this whole damn town.

“Do you like it?”

(He didn’t really know why he sounds so nervous. Maybe it was having a friend, a real friend, and doing something personal for them... or maybe it had to do with how fast his heart beat, watching you in that gigantic, shapeless dress)

“I love it! Thank you so much, Finn!”

From then on started one of the most wonderful friendships Finn would ever have, and what would bring a ray of light to the grim existence of a little boy in the midst of a global war

Despite the ration cards, despite the loneliness, despite the worry that tugged at his stoic aunt’s eyes for her son and nephews across the Channel... he found an unspeakable solace in your friendship

And one day, without a trace, you were gone

He knocked on your door; gone. He asked all the neighbors what had happened to the family that lived there; gone. He wrote you letters and sent them to the confines of England; gone. He got scolded by Polly for marking numbers at random on Tommy’s state-of-the-art telephone; gone.

Suddenly he was back to the bleak existence he had battled with before meeting you, and the hollow inside his chest only grew wider as the days went on, because he had no explanation as to what had happened to you, and worried every single day

Thankfully, the war ended not long after, and his brothers came back home, all alive and unscathed - well, for the most part

Fast forward more or less ten years, and much has changed in Finn Shelby’s life and in old Birmingham, but the memory of you still stugs at his heartstrings

One evening, he’s tasked by Arthur to run some errands, send a few messages, scout a few places; the most dangerous thing his older brothers will ever let him do

His task leads him to a bar in the center of town, one that pours its joyous light and music into the street outside; he’s there to meet with a client, arrange a meeting; nothing he’s hasn’t done already

But the evening takes a turn for the unexpected when he recognizes the girl sat alone at a table, enjoying the musicians’ jazz with an air of pure bliss on her face

It’s been ten years, of course, but... it’s unmistakable. That face, that silhouette, and the black ensemble from head to toe... and he’s always had a knack for remembering faces, especially those that mark him deeply

Suddenly he’s frozen on the spot, and he has forgotten why he came to the bar in the first place, what his target looks like - all he knows is you, and how beautiful you look in the dim light of the bar, and the undisclosed and unknown feelings he had for you at the time come flooding back.

Except this time, he understands, and he fears them, because he doesn’t have time for any of this, and it’s way too dangerous for you and him

But he can’t just pass you by and not say a word?

He swallows, hard.

And walks up to you.

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, and your face flashes with recognition, and a little bit of pain as well. Even if you fled without a word, and left him hanging all these years, he’s incapable of rancor

“Finn... wow, you’ve changed so much.”

“You haven’t.”

He gestures at your face, your clothes, how you savor the music like the finest drink in the world, and you laugh and blush, sending his heart into overdrive

“Where were you all this time?”

“I’m so sorry, Finn... my brother died in the war, and... my mom sent me to live with my grandparents in Scotland. We were all destroyed by grief... I needed to get away.”

“Without explanation? Not even a word?”

“I wanted to write to you, so bad, but... I couldn’t remember your address. I couldn’t remember anything about Birmingham at all...”

He nods, slowly, in understanding.

The war opens wounds that never heal, even after all the most beautiful friendships and love stories in the world.

“But I’m really glad I found you.”

His heart is pounding in his throat. Maybe it’s a sign of destiny that he found you here, tonight, alone, and ready to welcome him back. Maybe it’s a word from fate, that you can never truly be apart.

So he takes the seat in front of you, and you smile, that shy but bright smile of yours, and he forgets all about his mission, his client, and his brothers.

They’ll have to understand.

800 follower sleepover

[padfootagain]

Always

Next trope for my winter event will be one bed, with our favourite Jedi, Obi-Wan!

I hope you all like it, it's just fluff!!

Do I know anything about the climate on Alderaan in winter? Absolutely not, but I don't exactly care.

Gif not mine

Word Count: 3097

There was snow outside, and a loud wind blowing. Sky grey with clouds that didn't seem willing to move away, and speeders hurrying back and forth through the main street. The town went on for miles all around you, and yet it was merely a little city for the planet's standard. The complicated and elegant architecture, showing the wealth and skill of the people of Alderaan, made every building magical, and the white snow that had settled on the crevasses of the sculpted façades made it all the more beautiful.

However, you were not on Alderaan to enjoy the magic of the wintery season. You were there on a mission for the Jedi Order.

Your friend Obi-Wan was accompanying you to retrieve and bring back to the Senate a valuable copy of the decree stating the partnership between Alderaan and a nearby planet of their system. It wasn't exactly the most excited mission you had been on, or so you had thought. That was before your contact on the planet was found dead.

And now, you and Obi-Wan were on the run.

You had left the capital for this little town, and hoped to find a way off the planet as fast as you could. However, the magical weather seemed to play against you, and all the transports were stuck on the ground until further notice.

You had no choice but to hope for a better weather the next day, along with a safe passage off the planet.

Your hand came to nonchalantly rest upon your chest, touching the decree safely hidden in your long brown robes.

The sun was setting already, the season shortening the days, and the question of finding a shelter for the night started to seriously worry you.

"I think there is a hotel of some sort, straight ahead. Do you see it? Up the street," Obi-Wan told you, as if reading your mind.

You hated it when he acted this way. When he answered your question before you could ask it. You had no doubt that it wasn't a mind trick, your own defences were way too powerful to allow anyone into your thoughts, talented Jedi or not. He just knew you that well. After years and years of friendship, training together as Padawans, now both of you Masters, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. And sometimes, you hated the fact that he simply knew you too well.

"I'm freezing," you admitted, tightening your robes around your shivering frame. "We have to find shelter for the night.

"We will."

Ha, that overconfident tone of his. You hated that as well about him, it was driving you up the walls.

Which he clearly felt, as he turned to you with an amused smile, and that made you even madder.

Although, you weren't angry, just mad. There was a difference between the two when it came to Obi-Wan: he was annoying you to no end, and yet you could never be tired of his presence by your side.

You chose to ignore his glance, and hurried up the busy street instead. Up ahead, a speeder was stuck under a deep layer of snow, and five people were struggling to get it out. Had you not been under such danger yourself, you would have gladly used the force to help them. But you couldn't take the risk to draw too much attention to yourself. You reckoned your Jedi clothes were doing a good enough job for that already. Which brought you to your next worry.

"We should change our clothes tonight," you told Obi-Wan. "Our robes are kind of… not mingling well with the scenery."

"You're right," he agreed with a nod.

"We should find some new clothes before going to that hotel."

"Where to?"

You looked on both sides of the street, and spotted a shop a few meters further. Obi-Wan silently followed you there.

It was a strange thing to be on a mission with him again. You hadn't since the beginning of the war. He was always off somewhere playing the General, while you were more on spying missions than pure military. Your skills for reckon missions were of value as well, and you seldom found yourself in big battles Obi-Wan had grown used to handle. You were surprised by the Council's decision to send the two of you to Alderaan, especially with Anakin and Ahsoka off fighting a battle on the other side of the Galaxy. But who were you to question the Council's orders. As Obi-Wan kept on reminding you, if you had wanted to change their minds, then you shouldn't have refused the seat that was offered to you.

However, you were aware that politics were far from your forte. You were a woman of actions first. Obi-Wan was 'the Negociator', he was the one in your team with good words and manners who was able to sort any situation – or most of them at least – by talking his way through it. You were more of a lightsaber sort of Jedi.

Maybe that was the reason why the two of you worked so well as a team. If Obi-Wan was more diplomatic than you, you were also quicker at taking decisions and weighing risks. Besides, you were both gifted with a strong bond to the Force and great skills in combat.

Oh, and you loved flying still, unlike him.

You bought some warmer clothes and hid your lightsabers well under your coats, along with the decree. Your own clothes were hidden in a backpack you bought. You were thus wearing some brown leather pants, large boots perfect against the cold, and had bought a new brown coat designed against the dropping temperatures. Obi-Wan had settled for some classic beige pants and a long coat as well. You were now better equipped to walk through the city unnoticed. And well, the way he looked in these clothes didn't make things easier for you, but you tried to push the thought in the darkest corner of your mind and walked on.

You weren't aware of the fact that Obi-Wan was thinking the exact same thing about your civilian clothes, but he did. He would never confess some thoughts to you though.

The snow fell even more heavily than before, by now, it was almost impossible to see more than a few meters ahead. The speeders had all stopped, and the wind blew stronger. With that kind of weather, you would probably stay stuck on Alderaan longer than a night. You pushed the thought away though. No need to darken a future so uncertain, you forced yourself to focus on the issue near at hand. You reminded yourself of the old lessons your master had told you, about focusing on the present. You didn't always respect the lessons you had once been taught though. By your side, Obi-Wan's beard was covered with white snowflakes by now, and the sight brought an amused smile to your lips.

You walked inside the hotel a few minutes later, and asked for two rooms at the reception.

Waiting for the employee to check the rooms available, you couldn't help but eavesdrop the conversation between two men behind you in the hall.

"They're Jedi, they won't be hard to spot! Long cloak and lightsaber at their belt, and it's done!"

You and Obi-Wan exchanged a silent glance.

"The reward is huge, there'll be a lot of people on the bait!" the other thug replied.

"We're the first to know about it, we are one step ahead! Come on, let's look for them! We'll check the spaceport first."

You gave Obi-Wan a look that meant 'I told you so' while the two bandits exited the building, and the Master by your side gave you an approbative nod. You had been right to change clothes. And not only because Obi-Wan looked very handsome in these ones…

The employee of the hotel came back, but there was only one bedroom left. You couldn't take the risk to remain out in the open, and you both knew it. So, you took the key with a nod as a thanks, and went off looking for the right room.

In the elevator, Obi-Wan heaved a sigh, and brushed the snowflakes off his beard.

"Looks like we're not the only one stuck here for the night," you pointed out in a conversational tone.

"Indeed." Obi-Wan nodded, still stroking his beard.

"It also means that the men after our… package are still here as well."

"You heard the two geniuses in the hall. They're just the beginning of our trouble."

"We should call Anakin and Ahsoka in reinforcement. They could be an entire army for all we know."

But Obi-Wan shook his head.

"They're busy enough with their own assignment. Besides, if we can't fly off the planet, then they can't fly to the planet either."

"That… is a valid point. But maybe they can reach someone who can help here."

"Or we can handle the situation ourselves. Since when do you think twice about fighting?"

"I don't fight battles I cannot win. Then I avoid them your way."

"Negociating?"

"Running away."

"Ha… very funny…"

He was looking for an ironical tone, but ended up chuckling.

"Besides, with Anakin as a Padawan, falling back is sometimes the only way to avoid having him doing something stupid and ridiculously dangerous," he went on, but you shook your head with amusement.

"Excuses, excuses…"

The door of the elevator opened, leaving you to a sight of a richly decorated corridor, although it seemed a little old-fashioned. You found your room easily, and were not surprised to discover the only bed there.

"I'll take the ground," Obi-Wan spontaneously proposed, but you merely rolled your eyes in answer.

"Don't be ridiculous. For how long have we known each other?"

"Far too long to answer that question."

"With the weather outside, it will get colder in too. You'll freeze without a decent blanket. Don't be ridiculous."

"I was simply being… polite."

You rolled your eyes again, but there was a playful smile on his lips that made you wait for his next tease.

"I heard that you didn't like sharing a room with Master Windu…"

"He snores!" you replied.

"So if I do snore…"

"I will throw you out. Yes. Precisely."

You both held each other's gaze for a moment, serious, but it only lasted an instant. Before long, you both broke into laughter.

"I will wake you up if you snore though," you warned him more seriously, and he merely doubled with laughter.

You didn't like the way his laugh made your heart warm in your chest, as if it turned into a burning star. You didn't like how happy it made you to be near him now. You didn't like how much you trusted him. You felt guilty for it all, and at the same time, not guilty at all. You couldn't see how your feelings for him could be a bad thing, they felt so… right.

You dropped your guilt to the ground, and smiled at him instead. After all, these feelings were far from new. It seemed they had always been with you, for as long as you had known him. And you knew he felt this way as well.

The knowledge that he felt the same came piercing your heart in every happy and painful ways possible. Because the man you loved shared your feelings, but you couldn't be together.

A Jedi's life was a lonely one.

"Right or left side?" Obi-Wan asked, throwing his coat onto the chair and nodding at the bed, tearing you out of your thoughts.

"Right, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

You both got ready for bed, and soon, you were both under the warm blanket, lying in the dim light coming through the curtains. The yellowish glimmer of the street lampposts and the houses all around gave a strange atmosphere to the room, soothing and warm and familiar. Obi-Wan could feel the way your weight shaped the mattress, the way it yielded under you, caving in to embrace your shape. He could feel how the blanket wrapped itself around you as well. He wished he could hold you the way the bed embraced you. But he couldn't.

There was a whisper coming from the street, from the humming of the speeders and the distant conversations. It was soothing, so much so that it was already lulling you to sleep. And Obi-Wan could feel it, by the way you rested on the bed, by how your breathing became deeper and deeper. It wasn't very surprising that you would be exhausted, the mission was intense and dangerous. You must have been just as exhausted as he was.

He could feel your hand close to his, just a few centimetres away, and yet unreachable. But at least, you were here.

Obi-Wan relaxed, after being vigilant for so long. He couldn't help it, not while he was lying by your side. Your presence was too soothing for him to stay as tense as he was before. You had always had this way to soothe him, calm him down, which he didn't like at all, because it was terribly unproductive for his work. He needed a certain level of tension through his body to be as aware of his environment as the situation required. But then, you came along, and he was doomed to fail.

He closed his eyes, and focused not on the soft sounds of the street but on your breathing, on the rhythm with which you inhaled and exhaled, and he pictured the air passing your lips in one direction or the other while all tensions left him. The sound was more reassuring than any other sound in the universe. Except for your laughter, perhaps.

He was about to surrender to sleep when your rhythm changed. Becoming a little more erratic, breaths held longer. You let out a little groan.

And then, you snored.

Not too loudly, but enough to be called a snore, and Obi-Wan's awareness focused again, as he smiled at the sound. He forced his stingy eyes to open and he looked at you.

Lips slightly parted, and hair already a mess, you looked so peaceful then. He couldn't stop his mind from thinking beautiful too, and he hated himself for it. He wasn't supposed to feel the way he did for you, the Order held strict rules against it all. And yet, how could his love for you be wrong when it felt so… right.

You snored again, more loudly this time, and after a few minutes, Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if you kept on snoring all night long.

So, he gently rubbed your shoulder, until the sounds disappeared and your eyes opened.

"Som'ing wrong?" you mumbled with tiredness and sleep distorting your words.

"No, we're safe. You're just snoring."

You rubbed your eyes, chasing sleep away, and frowned.

"Me? Snoring?"

"I bet it was worse than Master Windu…"

"Ha… very funny," you replied in a yawn.

"Sorry to wake you, but…"

"No, no. You did well. Sorry."

You turned to your side, hoping that the change of position would solve the problem. You were facing Obi-Wan, who had turned to his side with you.

You kept on staring at each other for a while, none of you noticing your smiles. It just felt so right to be this close, staring at each other, studying the other to carve their features in your mind so you would never forget them.

A thousand words could have never expressed the way you felt for each other. There was something that ran deep into you that was entirely his, and there was a part of him he treasured that belonged to none but you. It was ineffable, the way you felt for each other, and there was no more certain truth than the knowledge that you would both forever feel this way.

And the words could never be openly spoken, you could never confess your feelings for him, and he could never speak out loud how much he loved you. None of it mattered though. You didn't need to say it all, your eyes spoke better than your tongues then. Or sometimes, some innocent words held more meaning than their mere definition.

"Obi-Wan?"

Your voice wasn't even a whisper, it was just a breath leaving your lungs, delicate and fragile that could have been destroyed by a mere breeze. But in the quiet room, it was more than enough for him to hear.

"Yes, Y/N?" he answered, his tone as soft as yours.

"I just meant to say…"

That I love you more than anything, that I'll never stop loving you. No matter if we are separated by galaxies or death or mere inches, I'll always love you just as ardently and my heart will always be yours.

"It's good to work with you again," was all that passed your smiling lips.

He answered your sad smile by one of his own.

"I just…" you went on, stuttering under his intense blue eyes. "Of all the Jedi in the order, you're the one I trust the most. I know… I know you'll be here for me if I need you."

Your hand rested on the sheet between the two of you, barely inches away from his fingers. And a thousand times before, he had stopped himself from reaching you, and he knew he would stop himself a thousand times more in his lifetime.

But not this time.

This time, his fingers crossed the unreachable distance, to rest upon yours, and you held hands, trying to carry all your love and care for each other through the tender gesture.

But his eyes spoke better, and when he answered, his words meant so much more than what they were supposed to mean.

I love you, Y/N. I always have, and I always will. No matter if we can be together or not, my heart will forever be yours.

It did not matter that he couldn't actually speak his mind nor act the way he longed to, though. It had never mattered, and would never matter. Your love was more than kisses and touches, it was a feeling transcending rules and time and space.

You loved each other, and it was all that mattered. And when he spoke, the promise was meant for him being there for you, but for so much more as well. You knew it, and it was enough.

"Always, Y/N. Always."

 ************************************************************************* 

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