#that anon was right saying we consists of the most vile

[saebaragi]

early 2018 me would never survive in neocity.

[ca-suffit]

The fact that nalyra tagged racism as a tw, swept any semblance of race related discussions under the rug, positioned themselves as a victim, and targeted other blogs as bullies for discussing race in any capacity, is VILE. I don't know if they are a person of color or white but it's what I've experienced personally in my life as a person of color MANY TIMES, as well as in fandom spaces. I am SHOCKED. The blatant disgust they have shown consistently in this fandom while hurling slurs, "subset" "loumanders" "bullies" is basic 101 racism and hate. I'm beginning to think most of this fandom are the same, and I wish viewers like nalyra wouldn't watch a show centered on race and then have the audacity and privilege to partake in active antiblack rhetoric with callout post for the fandom to blindly adhere to, and sell antiblack propoganda day by day.

What kind of fandom are we? Nalyra's actions remind me of the trial; anyone who tries to bring up topics of race are louis and claudia, nalyra and virginiaisforvampires and the side of the fandom that agrees with them are the advocat and the audience. It's the same situation, a stoning at us for daring to speak about complicated issues that nalyra deems beneath her. This fandom is a scary place. I'm thankful for your blog though, and for being courageous enough to keep it running.

(context post)

I'm beginning to think most of this fandom are the same

It is. I've seen this fandom since before the show and it was the same things. There's a lot bigger, better fandom now tho.....but not one that can exist in the tags still. The fact that this account is anon and most ppl who interact with it are also anon are proof of that. I put stuff in the tags to exist right alongside all this shit and keep ppl aware and let conversations be seen that would otherwise not be seen, but it's going up against a lot. It's not going to overturn fandom racism by any means, but it's at least providing a space where ppl can know they're not fucking crazy.

I have started to block some anons so that's been part of it but ppl have also gotten tired of trying to fight me after so many months. I came in prepared and knowing what they do and my inbox now has become more about letting ppl rly say things instead of threatening me. that's something I didn't think would happen bcuz....nobody's ever done this here before? but I'm happy it's been turning out this way. I wish this fandom were safe for ppl to interact with without being anon but...it's something for now. I'm glad ppl find some kind of comfort and voice in it.

[jewishconvertthings]

You haven't posted in a while. I'm a new convert and just found you. I don't have anything to offer. I hope you are alright. I am grateful for the posts you already made that I get to read

Hi @shibarakudesu!

You're right, I have not been posting much. In fact, I've been slowing down significantly for years. However the antisemitic backlash to the 7/10 attack and the Israel-Hamas war to literally all Jews has been vile and has slowed me down even more.

I keep my anons on. I've always kept anon on, even when the first few anon asks I got back in 2017 when I started this blog were "allahu akbar 🧨🧨" and "converting TO Jew?? should we call you oven climbers or k*ke lovers?"

Yeah.

I deleted them without comment because they deserved none, but I remember vividly the pit I got in my stomach when I received them. I am not a person who forgets words or phrases easily and so the words have stayed lodged in my brain ever since. I just kept wondering how people could hate Jews so much that it spilled over onto people who were simply exploring Judaism. How could people have this much vitriol for Am Yisrael? I found out shortly after that about an incident from only a few years prior in 2014 where three non-Jews were shot by an antisemite for merely walking around outside a JCC and Jewish retirement facility. And then I understood: in every generation they will come for us.... and for anyone else among the nations that is brave enough to stand with us. By merely going to shul, I was making myself a target.

I was a very new conversion student at the time and this blog was simply a place for me to collect those specific feelings.

It became a lot more than that, in part because I chose to leave anon on anyway, and I vowed to use my words kindly. It is so easy to cause fear and pain in words and yet also so easy to bring comfort and warmth. You just have to choose your words carefully and listen to hakol mishamayim. If you pause and search your neshama, you will eventually find the right words. You will make mistakes; I certainly have. Own those mistakes and keep trying.

And I was deeply rewarded by the community that sprang up here in response! The hateful anons disappeared when they realized I wouldn't engage and instead my inbox was filled with kind, engaged people who were also excited about Judaism.

Like you. You say you don't have anything to offer, but you already gave me something quite valuable - your kind words.

This war has made me very tired, like most Jews. My heart is broken by every life that has been lost and geulah has never felt further away. To be this intentional in what I say and to always engage from a place of kindness, always searching for that spark of the Divine in everyone - it takes a lot of emotional energy and it forces me to be a better version of myself. And in these dark times I have found it very difficult to summon that version of myself.

I suppose I ought to try. But I cannot in good conscience promise to be consistently here.

Anon will stay on and I will respond as I am able. May we all see better days, and soon.

[threebooksoneplot]

love this podcast so much! this is probably a bit of a nuts ask but i just wanted to let you guys know that you've genuinely helped me in real life- I was approached by two Mormon missionaries today (i live in the UK so it was Unexpected to say the least) and for the entirety of the conversation I was remembering how you mentioned on one of your episodes (99% sure it was you guys) about how being on missionary is most Mormons' first experience of the wider world so you should do your best to be polite etc. all the context you gave genuinely helped me navigate the conversation so much lmao, you guys are entertaining AND educational 10/10

oh wow!! daaaamn, good for you!

and yeah, that sounds like something we would say. I (G) can't seem to dig up receipts right now but the tl;dr is that oftentimes, door-to-door evangelism of the kind mormon missionaries and jehovah's witnesses engage in is less effective at converting people, but highly effective at reinforcing to the group's members that all outsiders are Cruel And Sinful and therefore you should never leave The Church because that's where the only good and kind people are.

but also, like, 90% of the time the reason I (G) try to be kind to mormon missionaries is because they're like 20 and have never been allowed the simple joy of a macchiato (but must try to fill that void with vile concoctions of dr pepper, gummy worms, and half 'n half, apparently.)

also, let the record show that "being kind" does not mean showing any interest whatsoever in converting to mormonism, or leading them on to that effect! but it costs $0 to wish them a nice day and be a shining example of how wearing spaghetti straps does not in fact lead to sacrificing live goats to satan.

anyway. we're proud of you, anon! glad you like the ole podcast 🤠

—G

yeah this is awesome to hear!! and even to add onto this, that sort of advice is pretty good to utilize just in general when talking to people from these ultra-conservative, super-sheltered (and yes, usually religious) upbringings. like G said, you don't need to lie to them and make them believe that "oh yeah totally i'm absolutely going to see you this sunday and I sure will consider changing the entirety of my belief system/morals!" but, yknow, just be kind. it's good to do even for Normal Regular people you see on the street. but this isn't sesame street so I won't start that brand of schoolyard lecture.

semi-related, but a little tangential: my super-strict catholic high school used to invite mormon missionaries to come and 'speak with' specific religious classes (usually the TrulyCatholic bitches took these) every year. and every year we heard about how "lol the ridiculous mormons keep coming and being nice to us to try and talk about their religion as if we're EVER going to change our minds and believe in their FAKE and WRONG version of christianity?? isn't it so stupid that they're so patient and kind to us even as sister catherine anne stands back and lets us bully—I mean, debate these guys? anyways I wonder when the morons—I mean, mormons, will stop coming back. 😌💅"

and to this day I still think about those guys! because I never understood their willingness to come back every year, and I could not fathom why they were consistently so nice. learning more about mormonism through this podcast has really helped my ex-catholic ass look at the outside world and be like "oh, we were the assholes. I mean, I knew that already, but shit." and tbh i'm sure they honestly loved coming to my school, because nothing will solidify your own stance/opinion on a group of 'outsiders' than a mob of privileged ravenous catholic teenagers. anyways, let that be a refrain for you on your new day-to-day: don't be like the catholics, be kind. amen 🙏

—shannon

[chim-chim1310]

I personally don't think you should dislike JK based on his perceived backstabbing of Jimin. We don't know what's the nature of their relationship behind the scenes, how much of the current trip is a professional enterprise and to what extent the other members are ok with JK. We simply don't know so I will not assume. Whether they are ok with it or whether they're not, we know BTS never really exposes any fractures to outsiders. Some people take the distance jikook have had during solo era as an indication of something, some people took his trip to NY as an indication of something else. That's why I'll say that without any real info, there's no way to know and we all know how private Jimin is so that info is probably not coming.

But I will dislike JK based on my personal standards. Not by what I assume but by what I can see and hear is happening. To some extent those standards came from being a BTS stan but I can't lie to myself about them just because they are the ones violating those standards today.

I don't agree with how he's conducted himself as an artist. I don't like the song, I don't like the fact that he's engaged in more payola than any other KPop artist ever, I don't like that he's sided himself with someone as vile as Scooter Braun, I don't like how his supposed debut song had no writing credits and no contributions from him, I don't like how even his debut is a collab, I don't like the fact that it's probably a collab because they're angling for a Grammy nom in the duo / groups category and because they thought an American artist would help for the Hot 100, I don't like the fact that he singlehandedly dismantled the legacy of BTS as an organic group, I don't like the thirst for western validation thats wafting off his promo schedule, I don't like the fact that an English album means he'll only have some token writing credits on it if any, I don't like how he's been given such an advantage over other members even though prior to solo era, Jimin's solo songs have consistently done better than JK's and Taehyung is more popular in numbers in most categories.

Hope that clears things up for anon.

I completely agree with all of this.

You're right. I'm also not hating on jungkook because he backstabbed jimin because we don't know jimin's reaction and we'll never know. I know jimin has good relationship with him but that doesn't mean that we will stop fighting for the way jimin was sabotaged and the way jk got everything. We can't forget all this just because jm f*cking smiled at jk.

They have known each other for 10 years. Situations like these must have come a lot in their life in such industry. But I don't think their friendship is that superficial that jm will drop him for that. But that's the case of their personal relationship. I don't care about that. I care about how jimin worked so hard but still got nothing and jk didn't contribute any creativity and still is getting everything.

I am mad about how he chose to play dirty tricks to get to the top. I mean he seriously listened to the song and was like "yeah this song spoke to me" Like it's a joke!

Wtf is monday, tuesday wednesday....... Is it a kids bop or something? He liked this song?! The lyrics were already trash at least they could've made it a bit more catchy. I didn't even listen to the song twice except for the fact that it's been shoved down my throat.

And just armies as usual are gobbling it up. "Oh my god jk talked about sex! A 26 year old man talked about sex! He said the word fuck, how hot is that!" Like what a bunch of idiots.

Jungkook himself said in his white day live said something like he knows that armies would support him even if he sometimes does bad, and that's where his confidence comes from. He said something like this. Like seriously?! If he was a sincere, hard working artist he would always give his all to give his fans a good song.

He chose to not work hard and use the easy way. Scooter is another b"tch like I despise that man. And yeah he needed a collab even for his debut song. Atleast that he should've done alone. God either he just doesn't trust his own talent or he's just not talented enough to carry it on his own.

But I don't think so. He released a song like 'Still with you'. Like come on. When he can release songs like that how come a song like seven spoke to him?!

Just shows that he knows this kind of song is perfect for the Western market and he just jumped on it and took everything scooter and bang pd gave him on a silver platter. How can someone respect him as an artist after this?

[alarrytale]

https://www.tumblr.com/alarrytale/765493589860040704/i-completely-agree-with-you-in-your-response-about

I’m so angry about all these conspiracies, it’s so hurtful towards the people they are claiming killed him. And worst of all, the main part of people making tread after tread about this is Larries, more specifically the extreme Twitter Larries who have made it their full time job to use every little crumble as a Larry proof. They make us look insane and if those are the Larries people sees on Twitter I do understand why they call us crazy!

Have you seen that tiktok video from a harrie who said “sorry Liam but at least it wasn’t harry. I’m sorry for liam but I’m glad it wasn’t harry” I really have no words to describe how horrible, vile, obnoxious these people are. And they have the guys to have tpwk everywhere

Hi, to the both of you!

This goes for both, spend less time and energy on people who enrage you. Don't seek it out. People like that will always be around, so you need to take steps to protect yourself if you're going to be provoked by them. Mute, block and ignore.

First anon, i'm the first to defend twitter larries just fyi. Using ableist slurs about your fellow larries? Says more about you than it does about the one your criticizing. When you call yourself a larrie that says two things about you. You believe that larry is real and you belong to a community and a sub-fandom called "the larries". We are conspiracy theorists and a motley crew. Dispite that, we have a fellow cause and a common goal. We are a force to be reckoned with when we're organised and united.

When you're a larrie you belong to a community with fellow people who believe larry is real. Beyond that we have more or less things in common. Instead of focusing on the people in your own community that you disapprove of, just ignore them. Don't act like they represent the majority of larries and represent the views of an average larrie. They don't. But also don't ostracize them. They're a part of our community too, whether you like it or not. They don't give us a bad name. It's more hurtful to the larrie community and more difficult trying to stay united and strong as larries when fans like you try to split us in fractions because you can’t tolerate them. Every community have some extremists or people with warped views. Let them be, let them do their thing. They just want the truth and they're angry. They go over the line sometimes, but fans are full of emotions right now and people are struggling to make sense of things. So let people be and show some grace. They're larries like you, you of all people should know where they're coming from. We're trained to not take everything as truth, combat gaslighting, look for signs and fight the mistreatment in the industy. Metaphorically, Liam was killed by the industry. If he wasn't mistreated in 1D he would most likely not have become an addict to deal with his trauma, and he would still be alive.

Larries who distance themselves from other larries who they claim is showing "cultish behaviour" are doing more harm to the larrie community than the few fans who go overboard. You are not better than them, they're a part of the same community as you and their behaviour isn't representative of everyone. They are out there trying to make sense of the truth, while you are here complaining, trying to police their behaviour and create fandom civil war. There is room for different opinions within the larrie fandom and this fandom consists of all types of misfit, suppressed, minority and smart ass people. That's the beauty of being a larrie.

I'm a proud larrie and i protect my own. Even those who i don't agree with. Diversity of opinion is a good thing. If you're more concerned about protecting our name and reputation than being tolerant and inclusive, then that's a battle you will lose. We're already conspiracy theorists. We wear that badge proudly, because we know we're right.

[let-them-read-fics]

Rivalries Of The High Seas

Requested By Anon: "Pirate AU, enemies to lovers."

AU: Pirate

Pairing: Captain!Rosé x Fem!Captain!Reader

Word Count: ~ 7,375

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major Injury (Inflicted On Reader), Dangerous Situations, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Anon, thank you for this one! I've never seen the movie you mentioned in your request, but you did well in explaining what you wanted to see here. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

PS ~ Captain Rosé could step on me and I'd say thank you

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Death isn't a new thing to you. It isn't some far-off, enigmatic fear capable of tearing down your psyche anytime the topic is brought up. In fact, you're faced with the harsh realities of it almost everyday, given your ranking. Even still, when you woke up this morning, you hadn't expected for the day to consist of you meeting your end. 

Your hands remain clasped together tightly, bound to the rickety wooden chair you've been securely strapped into by layers of rope and chains. Your wrists burn as the rough material pulls against your skin, surely leaving dark marks by now, but that's the least of your worries as you eye the bandits standing before you. Their faces hold smug grins, cheeks pulling back in eerie smiles to reveal crooked teeth. "I won't give you the pleasure of seeing me beg for my life. I accept my fate." You say bravely, holding your head high. 

"How noble, Captain." They sneer, leaning far too close for comfort. You fight the gag that works its way up your throat at the smell of them, the wicked stench burning your nostrils as it invades them. 

"Even if you escape now, the rest of my crew will come for you." Rosé finally speaks from behind you, sitting in the same state as you as she glares at the surrounding men. Her fingers futilely pull at your shared restraints for the millionth time, brushing along your wrist in the process. 

"It's cute that you think that matters. We'll be long gone by then."

Her head lightly pushes against yours as she leans back in her chair, seeking to evade the man when he enters her personal space. For some reason unbeknownst to you, your blood boils at his actions -- though Rosé is your enemy of sorts, seeing that she's a rival captain herself, you can't help but want to keep him away from her. 

The vile creature parts her legs with an evil smirk on his lips, his filthy hand groping her thigh as he runs his fingers along her beautiful skin. She whimpers in protest, growing afraid of what he'll do to her in her captive state. Had she been unrestricted right now, she would've most definitely cut his hand off, forever reminding the world of his misdeeds. 

"Just get it over with!" You shout angrily, voice hoarse from all the screaming you've done today. You've grown tired of the game they've been playing for over an hour, flipping between beating and ridiculing you relentlessly. 

"Alright, alright," their leader chuckles, putting his hands up as he approaches you. He instructs his men to be on standby, ready to gather around the two of you and hoist you into the air. They wait for the all-clear to throw you overboard and into the chilly sea below, full of creatures you've seen during your fateful adventures over the years. There are certainly worse ways to go, and you attempt to come to terms with what's about to happen. Perhaps this is a poetic end for you -- being laid to rest in the place that you've spent most of your life and made countless memories.

"Keep those eyes on me as you fall. I want to remember what it looked like to take down the infamous Y/N L/N." You narrow your eyes at their leader, grimacing as they scan over his greasy, jet black hair and tattered overcoat. Aren't the "bad guys" supposed to at least be stylish? He's a sorry excuse for one if so. 

"Kiss my ass." You utter, spitting at him. He lunges forward, just like you expected -- seriously, why are men so predictable? -- and takes the collar of your shirt between his fingers. He delivers a swift blow to your left cheek, only allowing you a second to recover before pulling your head back up to give the same treatment to the other side. 

You can feel Rosé tense behind you, doing all she can to reach for you and offer comfort. 

With a pained groan, you spit out a mouthful of fresh blood and raise your head to look at him again. "You know, you're not nearly as observant as you think you are." You smile, ignoring the pain that shoots through your busted lip. Before he has time to react, you raise your foot in one motion, swiftly connecting it with his crotch.  How could they neglect to tie your feet? That's practically Pirate 101.

He doubles over in an instant, lungs void of the air necessary to speak another insult in retaliation to your act and body incapable of any further movement. His men make the decision for him, taking this moment as a sign to follow through with their plan and throw you over. Shouts and cheers pierce through the air above you as you make your quick descent, not even having time to say a goodbye to Rosé or offer a final word to the universe. 

Cold water immediately rushes over your heated skin as you plunge into the waves below, its frigid temperature almost taking what little breath you managed to store away in your lungs. Aided by the water's altered state of gravity, you're able to work your hips past a few of the loosely tied ropes that rested against them. 

One thing you admire about Rosé is her quick thinking. She's smart -- while you distracted the leader, she took the opportunity to pry off some of the restraints that required more time and effort, just like you hoped she would. Her slender fingers inconspicuously wiggled their way out of the ropes before freeing you from them as well, and the bandits were none the wiser. Her previous actions make this part all the more easy, and after spending a while on the final ties, the two of you kick off of your chairs and head for the surface. It's a struggle, no doubt, with the way you have to fight to bring the chains up with you and keep them from pulling you further under. But eventually you reach the surface, once again filling your lungs with that miraculously fresh air that they so desperately craved. 

The saltwater stings as it flows over your face, getting in your eyes and rushing over all the wounds you've accumulated. Rosie sputters from beside you, struggling a bit to keep her head up, so you extend an arm for her to use to push herself up. You tell yourself you're only doing it -- that is, making sure she doesn't drown -- because she'll be useful in helping you survive. Deep down, though, your intentions extend further than that. 

Once you find a steady rhythm with the waves and the fear of drowning subsides for the time being, you scan the horizon line. "I see land -- over there." You say, using your head to point to what looks to be an island in the distance. "We'll swim when we have the energy and float when we need rest, okay?" She nods in response, and the two of you get set on your way. 

-----

Huffing from the pure exhaustion coursing through your bodies, you manage to drag yourselves onto shore before collapsing. The sand serves as a good place to lay, almost cradling you the longer you lay there. Tiny, rippling waves -- the aftershocks of much bigger ones -- lull into shore, fluttering past your ankles before being pulled back in by the tide. They lap against your skin, remedying your racing mind with their rhythm. Minutes pass in this cycle, setting you in a state of comfort before you remember everything you'll have to do before nightfall.

Once gaining enough strength, you raise your head and peek over at your rival.

She's sleeping. Of course. You can't blame her, but the sun -- once blazingly hot, perched high up in the sky -- is now setting, giving you a preview of the darkness that the night sky will hold. She turns, rolling her head towards you in her sleep, and you almost smile -- a light dusting of sand sticks to her puffed-out cheeks, and the bridge of her nose holds a small sunburn, making her look sunkissed and blushy. Y/N, stop that, you command yourself, shaking your head at your thoughts. She's your enemy, and she's the reason you're even in this mess in the first place. 

"Wake up," you nudge her, reverting back to your previously tense demeanor. The anger you possess for the situation you're in is returning en masse, wiping the pleasant thoughts of Rosé from your mind. 

She groans, keeping her eyes tightly shut as she attempts to ignore you. "Roseanne, we have to get up." Your voice is strong, commanding her just like your crew. Your crew, you think to yourself. Some of them were killed by the bandits while others were thrown into the prison chambers of your ship, left at the mercy of your enemies until they decide what they want to do with them. Your people are inventive and strong -- they'll likely find a way out of the sticky situation and reclaim victory. For now, though, you're left to worry about their fates as you attempt to survive on this island. If the elements and animals don't kill you first, the gorgeous woman beside you most definitely will. 

"I'm up!" She all but shouts, following another prodding from you. Her eyes flutter open and she instinctively raises her hand to wipe her face -- you catch the chains before they can make contact and harm her, and she sends you an appreciative look. "Guess I forgot about these…" she shakes her arms, jiggling your restraints in the process, "Oopsie."

"Come on." You say, standing up and pulling her along with you. Her dilly dallying is making you impatient, and it only increases your levels of irritation. You don't have time to waste. 

"We have to break these," she states the obvious, searching the shore for a decently sized rock.

A sarcastic gasp slips past your lips as you look at her. "You don't say! I was thinking we'd just leave them on." She turns to glare at you, narrowing her eyes as she stops walking. Dear god, there's no time for this. With a mumbled "here we go", you allow her to continue. 

"You know, we wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you." 

"Me?!" You shout, completely taken aback. "Quite the contrary, Rosé. You're the one who led them to us!"

"If you would've accepted my offer, none of this would've happened. But you refuse to team up with anyone else. Look at where that got us now." She motions around herself to the island, expression settling back into an annoyed scowl as her eyes settle on you again. 

"It's not my fault that my crew is more trained than yours; I had no reason to merge our teams."

"An agreement would've solidified our strength!" She yells, stomping her foot into the sand. Her boots managed to survive the long trip here, but their material is completely soaked.

"I'm responsible for my crew, and my crew only. I had no decent reason to bring yours in with mine. It's just a liability and more mouths to feed." You say evenly, clenching and releasing your jaw a few times. 

She begins to fire off her rebuttal, but you tune her out for the most part and start walking further inland. She has no choice but to follow, and she does so while adamantly complaining. You throw occasional jabs to her arguments in order to keep her moving, and your plan works well. She's too busy bickering with you to notice that she's doing exactly what you want her to.

"...and you're so arrogant, Y/N! I mean, really. God, you're infuriating." 

"Are you done yet?" You ask, cocking your head to the side while you simply blink at her. She squints at you, about to give you another piece of her mind, but you glance down at the rock you led her to and she closes her mouth. 

"You can keep screaming at me or we can break these chains. Your choice." You shrug, pursing your lips. She cuts her eyes at you, but agrees with a huff, nonetheless. 

The two of you work together to find fittingly sized rocks, taking turns dropping them on your restraints and methodically working them against them. Eventually the chains give way, allowing your hands to wiggle out of their strict hold. You're the first to free yourself; once you're done, you find Rosé struggling in silence, refusing to ask for your help. 

"Here," you offer, extending a hand to her. Doing nice things for people without gaining something for yourself isn't something you do often -- you've been raised differently; grown more independent and self-serving after your time on the sea. 

"Oh, now you want to work together?" She quirks an eyebrow.

You put your hands up with an amused grin. "I don't have to help, feel free to do it alone." You stand, dusting the sand off of your clothes as you begin to walk away and investigate the island. She calls out behind you, annoyed shouts getting further and further away as you just smile and continue your journey. 

------

"Ah, glad you could join us again." You smirk, adding some kindling to the small fire you managed to set up during her time away. 

"Shut it," she bites back, glaring at you. 

"Tough crowd," you laugh, raising your eyebrows. For once, she doesn't say anything back. She busies herself with removing her shoes and socks, setting them next to the source of heat to dry before disappearing into the tree line. She returns a few minutes later, carrying with her a few different branches. Some of them are forked at the top, and she arranges them into a sturdy structure beside the fire as well. You try not to focus on how strong she looks as she does it, her muscles glistening in the fading evening light with a sheet of sweat.

To your surprise, she begins stripping. 

First her overcoat, which she drapes across the branch acting as a beam between the forked ones, and then her vest. She wrings them out individually, and you watch as the materials drip with what water hadn't already evaporated yet. The loose linen undershirt that she wears remains on, and you're thankful for that -- had she taken it off as well, you likely would've passed out. The blush on your cheeks deepens as you feel her eyes on you, and you keep your gaze trained on the fire. 

"Well? Are you planning to stay in those clothes all night?" She asks, running a hand through her hair to fix it and get some of the sand out. 

"If I didn't know better I'd say you're trying to get me naked, Rosie." You play, smiling harder when you see her roll her eyes and look away. 

"You wish," she scoffs, though you can see her stealing glances at you as you remove your clothes. She admires the shadows that the fire casts over your body, the flames dancing as they offer their beautiful warmth. The two of you go way back, having grown up as frenemies due to your professions, but she's always had a soft spot for you. You piss her off to no end, and yet somehow she can think of plenty worse people to be stuck with.

After catching her staring, you decide to tease her. You flex your muscles, making sure to be extra and really make a show of it. She blushes, hiding behind her hands to escape the situation. 

"Awww, somebody's shy." You say, chuckling at her. 

"Am not," she protests, though her sheepish grin sells her out.

"Prove it," you challenge, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Teasing her is one of your favorite pastimes. 

Tired of the games, she gathers all of the courage she possesses and stands, slowly sauntering her way over to you. Your eyes take in the sight of her, and she smirks; she works hard to stay in shape, and she knows she looks good. Countless weeks spent at sea, working alongside her crew on long voyages has left her with artfully tanned skin and a physique to die for. You go to compliment her, but she stops you before you have the chance, pressing a finger to your pursed lips. She trails it lower, blazing a path across your jawline and chest, stopping at your ribs. Your breath hitches, and she definitely feels it. You curse yourself for being so easy, already knowing what's coming. 

"Who's shy now, sweetheart?" She purrs out, smiling victoriously. 

How she's capable of switching demeanors so easily baffles you, but it ensures that no interaction with her will be boring, if nothing else. 

"Yeah, yeah," you grumble, pushing her away to break the growing tension. She's looking at you with some glint in her eye that you can't quite place -- all you know is that if she keeps doing it, things might escalate to a place neither of you are prepared for.

You clear your throat and step around her to adjust your clothes on the drying rack. "You can go ahead and sleep. I'll stay awake and keep the fire going."

She nods with a slight frown on her lips, though you don't see it. "Alright. But wake me up when you get too tired, okay?" You assure her you will, though truthfully your body is aching for sleep right now. The beating you took earlier did its worst on you, leaving your skin bruised and muscles knotted. She deserves to rest, though, and you're okay with giving her the first shift of it. Besides, your mind would surely keep you awake for the better part of an hour -- at least it'll be used to its fullest with her. 

What you don't realize, however, is that when she lays down beside you, cuddling into the sorry attempt for a bedroll that you threw together, she merely pretends to fall asleep. Likewise, when she settles her head in your lap, searching for a more comfortable place to lay it, she's fully conscious. She lazily smiles when you run your hands through her hair, wrapping the locks around your fingers in mindless patterns before releasing them and starting over. It's soothing, and soon enough she calms her eager heart enough to slip away to dreamland. 

--- A Few Days Later --- 

"Wakey wakey…" Rosé sing-songs, hovering over you. The two of you have settled into this familiar rhythm over the past few days, spending the daytime searching for food and supplies and taking shifts to sleep through the night. You've almost always ended up taking the latter opportunity, though sometimes Rosé would force you to rest first if you needed it badly enough. 

"Mmm," you groan in disapproval, rolling over. The sun is far too bright, and your upgraded bed situation is much too comfortable to offer any valid reason for you to leave it. Rosé knows how difficult it is to get you up, but she's learned some very useful tactics. 

"Y/N…" she drawls, voice like honey as it releases your name with care. Her lips are next to your ear, teasing you as her warm breath fans across your neck. You audibly swallow, not prepared for that in the slightest, and slowly peek your eyes open. She raises a hand to shield your face from the unforgiving sun, and you smile at the domesticity of the act. She looks like a dream -- her hair is fanned out, swaying peacefully in the calm breeze that rolls in from the sea, and she's grinning that killer smile down at you. Her previous sunburn has turned into a tan now, making her look even more irresistible somehow. 

"What do you want to do today?" You ask, lacing your fingers together as you put them behind your head. They work as a cradle, cushioning your head from the sand.

"I saw some berry bushes on the north side of the island. They didn't look like any poisonous kind I've studied about, so maybe we could check them out?" She suggests, sitting back on her knees with a quirked brow. 

"Sounds like a plan." You smile lazily, gazing up at her. A light pattern of freckles paints her cheeks, and you can't help but grin at how adorable she is. 

"What is it?" She asks skeptically, squinting at you. 

"You're just too cute for your own good, is all." You sigh, content as you stand up and tug a blushing Rosé behind you. She closes the "door" behind herself, sealing off the entryway to your humble abode. It's a panel of leaves and sticks, built to be sturdy yet lightweight and easy to move. She built it herself, and a sweet smile works its way onto her lips as she remembers the praise you sent her way after she presented it to you. 

--------

"If you don't slow down then I'm gonna slap you," she says, peering up at the trees that loom high overhead. In her distracted state, she neglects to look where she's going.

Her rambling is cut short by your hand darting out in front of her, effectively stilling her movements and words. You glance at the ground, prompting her eyes to follow the path they made and widen upon realizing what you just saved her from. An animal -- some wretched cross between a scorpion and pincher beetle -- continues its trip across the downed log that lays in front of you, menacing in its appearance. 

"Thank you," she breathes out, leaning into your side as you hold her and direct her away from danger. 

"Do me a favor and don't die, okay?" You quirk, scrunching your face up at her humorously. She shoves you, holding up her middle finger as she walks ahead and blazes a path for the two of you. You chuckle, grinning stupidly as you follow after her. 

--- 3 Hours Later --- 

"Take cover," you shout to an imaginary army, seeking refuge behind the base of a large tree. Rosé chuckles maniacally from behind one of the berry bushes, her fingers lightly stained from the juices that are running down her palm. 

"Nice try, Y/N. But you can't escape… CAPTAIN ROSÉ!" She shouts, surprising you as she charges in your direction, pelting you with berry after berry. You squeal, evading as many of the makeshift missiles as you can by darting behind different greenery. She eventually catches up, snaking her arms around your waist and preventing you from getting away again.

"NO!" You exclaim, slumping further into her arms in defeat after your attempts to escape prove futile. She spins you around to face her, pressing your back up against the nearest tree as the two of you practically double over with laughter. She looks ethereal, with how she shines in the sunlight that sneaks its way through the canopy of tree tops above you. Her eyes are almost closed from how hard she's smiling at you. 

A sharp growl breaks the happy moment, perking your ears up and causing your heart to race for a different reason entirely. You glance around the tree, protectively stepping in front of Rosé to shield her from any new threat. An animal -- something you've never seen before -- bares its teeth, snarling aggressively as it sets its sights on you. Your blood runs cold in your veins, stopping your heart momentarily as your brain attempts to formulate a plan on the fly. With only a few precious moments left before it attacks, you glance around for anything to double as a weapon without making any sudden movements. 

Rosé is clutched onto you from behind, and you can feel her heart beating wildly. You have to protect her, no matter what. 

"On my count, I want you to climb into this tree. I'm going to try and defend us." From what little knowledge you've inferred in the past couple minutes, you doubt the animal is capable of climbing well; it doesn't have the body or feet for it. You fear it is capable of running quickly, though, so the tree is likely your best bet. 

"What? No, I'm going to--"

"Roseanne, please, for once, just do as I ask. Trust me." You plead over your shoulder, noting the slight tremble that runs through her as another roar echoes out. Your eyes remain trained on it, never backing down for a second. 

One steadying breath later, you shout, "Now!" and swoop down to pick up what helpful materials you can. You charge at the animal, taking the offensive in order to keep as much distance possible between it and Rosé. You successfully jab the sharpened stick into its side, causing it to wail in pain. In an instant it grabs your arm, wrapping it's paws around you as it lunges forwards and tumbles to the ground on top of you. A scream leaves your lips as you watch its teeth dig further into your flesh, garnering deep crimson blood to spill from your developing wounds. You protect your neck with your other arm, only breaking this rule to reach to your side and retrieve the heavy rock you brought along as well. It connects with the side of the animal's head, only making it whimper before loosening its grip the slightest bit. You weren't prepared for it to be such a tough enemy. You use your strength to roll it over and sit on top of it, keeping your arm in its grip to ensure that it stays occupied. Your fingers dig into every sensitive part of its body you can reach, performing the defense moves you've spent your life practicing to use. With a glance at Rosé, you find her safe in the tree, just like you wanted. 

"Run!" You shout, willing to keep the creature distracted in order to give her time to escape. Before you can see if she listens to you, it's nails claw into your abdomen, scratching painful designs into the previously smooth skin. It performs another death roll, and you barely have the strength to shank it in the side again. It howls, rearing back to go for your jugular before its movements are abruptly cut short. An unsettling crack rings out above you, and you open your eyes after not receiving the fatal blow you had been expecting. The animal scampers away from you, limping off further into the forest until it's out of sight. 

Rosé drops the large branch in her hand, the end of it lightly stained with blood. "Go..." you weakly mumble, eyes beginning to flutter closed as you notice how much blood you've already lost. You feel cold, and you have to fight the shiver that runs through you.

"I've got you, Y/N." She whispers, cradling your fragile frame in her arms as she picks you up and begins the journey back to camp. "You did good." She reassures, having no idea how much you needed to hear that before falling unconscious. 

---------

After gathering the medicinal plants and resources that the two of you have accumulated so far, she returns to the fireside, settling down beside you. She raises your shirt enough to have access to your wounds, but not far enough to expose you. Temperate water meets your bloodied and broken skin, rushing over the sensitive areas as she gently cleans them. Once dry, she mixes the materials into a sort of salve to rub on them before laying the plants on them in place of bandages. 

The crackling of the fire works with the crashing of distant waves to serve as background noise, making the night far more peaceful than the day had been. She allows you to continue resting, knowing you need all of it that you can get. 

About an hour or so later you wake with a start, hands reaching out as if you were right back in front of the animal. Your dreams were plagued with images of the nightmarish beast, and you're having trouble adjusting to the fact that they were all in your head. They felt so real. Rosé is by your side in an instant, brushing your hair out of your face with one hand while caressing your thigh with the other -- it's one of the only places that made it out of battle relatively unscathed. Your panicked eyes find hers, glazed over with tears as you pull her flush against your body, glad to know she's okay. Her warmth reminds you that she's here, that she's real, and that she's safe. 

Memories of your fight come flooding back, filling your mind with the terrifying things you witnessed and reigniting your fight or flight response. You remember that she didn't listen to you -- she put herself in harm's way instead of leaving you behind, like you asked -- and you grow angry. Muttered phrases of disapproval leave your lips as you push her away, stumbling slightly when you try to stand on your own. Although confused by your erratic behavior, she reaches out to assist you, only to be met with a harsh refusal from you. 

"Stop!" The word comes out as an angry shout -- louder than you originally intended -- but you can't find it in yourself to apologize right now. You find your footing after a moment, holding your side as you walk away from her. 

"What's your problem?" She shouts, marching after you. She refuses to let this go without a fight, seeing as how she has plenty more questions than answers now.

"You could've gotten hurt, Rosé, and I could've handled it on my own." You say over your shoulder, continuing on your journey away from camp. Her relentlessness is quickly getting on your nerves.

"Clearly you couldn't! You needed help; why are you denying that?" She stops now, crossing her arms angrily with her brows furrowed. The fact that you're still so set on clinging to your pride is pissing her off. 

"You should've left me there! I can't have you getting hurt because of me." You turn around now, setting your jaw. Is she really this blind? This has nothing to do with your pride. Her eyes meet yours, the pools overflowing with confusion as they scan over your face in search of clarification.

"I can handle something happening to me; I've made my peace with that. But if something ever happened to you because of my incompetence…" you shake your head at the mere thought of that, momentarily too overwhelmed to continue, "...I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I care about you, idiot." You add that last line before turning around, not bothering to wait on her reaction. Part of you is scared to, honestly, and the day has been far too eventful for you to handle a potential rejection on top of everything else. 

She says nothing, leaving the air around you void of her beautiful voice, and you don't know whether to be thankful or disheartened. 

You put more distance between the two of you, leaving a stunned Rosé in your wake as you find a place to sit along the shoreline. Your temper -- more precisely, the fear you hold that presents itself as anger -- reared its head tonight. You didn't mean to snap at her like that, but the possibility of her getting hurt because of you makes your blood boil. That would be unforgivable, and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. You felt helpless earlier, quickly running out of the strength required to keep her safe.

Salty tears manage to break past your line of defenses, much like Rosé has managed to do with your heart. She's torn down every wall you've ever put up to protect yourself, and now that she's there you don't know how to cope. You've had people you considered close before, but none of them have mattered like she does. You've never been so afraid of losing someone. 

A soft hand on your shoulder makes you jump slightly, pulling you from your thoughts. Speak of the devil.

"Hey." She says simply, sitting down beside you. You turn your face away, not wanting to let her see you cry. "I'm sorry for fighting, okay? But I'm not sorry for helping you. I care about you, too, and I'll be damned to just leave you like that." She doesn't say anything else, doesn't try to make you look at her -- she just sits there, waiting for you to be ready to do so on your own. 

She's waited on you since you were teenagers, so she figures she's capable of waiting a bit longer now. Both of you are aware of the love you hold for one another; this is just the hardest part -- finally admitting it. 

"I can't lose you," you whisper, eyes full of tears that occasionally roll down your cheeks once gravity finds its footing. You turn to the front, still too emotional to look into her eyes. 

"Ditto. That's why I did what I did." 

Your knees are raised and pulled in close to your body for security, your arms wrapped around them to keep them in place. She reaches over to rest her hand on yours, wordlessly coaxing you into looking at her. 

"I…" You pause, voice breaking with the emotions you're still reeling from. 

"I know." She says, resting her forehead against yours. 

"I love you, too." 

She pulls you in, making sure to be gentle and not injure you any further. She raises your head to press her lips against yours, tasting the faint hint of wildberry that still rests on them from earlier. It's slow and new, giving you a break from the intensity you've been dealing with the past few days. You tilt your head to the right, letting out a whimper as her fingers graze a bruised spot on your ribs. She gives you another peck before pulling away, determined to stop herself while she still can. You're addicting, and she already can't get enough of you. 

A beat passes between you, giving you time to sort the thoughts rushing around your mind. "I've always loved you." You admit, pulling back to look at her. Tears well in her eyes, shining brightly in the brilliant moonlight as they threaten to fall. 

"Ever since we commanded our own boats for the first time. Mine was better, of course," she laughs at that, smiling despite herself, "...but I knew you were different then. I've spent all these years being too stubborn to let myself have you." 

She takes your words in, her heart pounding victoriously in her chest at your confession. "I knew when we were still training together. You always made things better for me then; I was so thankful to know you. Even if we teased the hell out of each other." 

You grin at the countless memories that come to mind. "Do you remember that night at the docks, after we graduated from our classes?" She looks up, searching her memory vault. "When you kissed me?" She asks. You nod, looking down with a bashful smile. 

"I knew we wouldn't see each other for a while, so I wanted to make it count."

"You made it really hard to say goodbye, you know?" She says, her eyes softening as she looks at you. 

"I know. But you get half of the blame." 

She tuts at you, nudging you playfully. You hiss in pain, causing her to bring a hand up to cover her growing smile. "Oops. Sorry, not sorry." 

"If I wasn't hurting so bad I'd tackle you right now." 

"Oh, I'm so scared." She laughs, mocking you. 

"That's it," you declare, ignoring the pain that shoots through your body with all the moving you're doing. Her laugh practically heals you anyway, so it's not hard to push it from your mind. You press her into the sand, rolling over to straddle her hips and pin her hands above her head. 

"Woah, tiger. Don't hurt yourself." She raises her head as much as her restrained state will allow, coming dangerously close to your face. 

"You're such a dork." You tut, leaning in to capture her lips once more. She mumbles out a, "you love it, though" against you, and your heart can't help but soar. 

- A Few Weeks Later -

A soft melody rides along the airwaves towards your ears, persuading you to wake up from your cozy slumber. You cuddle further into Rosie's tempting embrace, smiling at the way she pulls you impossibly closer. Her throat wiggles as she hums out a familiar tune from your childhood -- one of the songs you used to dance together to. 

"You big softie." You coo, resting your chin on her chest to look into her eyes with a smile. She grins, finally peeking at you through her lashes. 

"Good morning, beautiful." She says, her accent coming through adorably. She pulls you up to her lips for a kiss before rolling you onto your back. 

You sigh as she leaves open mouth kisses to your neck, dragging her lips over the skin there lazily. She takes her time, leaving marks here and there to show the world who you belong to. Her hands skim over the warm skin of your abdomen, finally free of the intense wounds you've been recovering from. Only small scars are left now, serving as a testament to what you endured.

"Mmm, I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat." She chuckles at that, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder as her body shakes with laughter. 

"You're thinking about food while I'm kissing you?" She grins, propping herself up on her arm to look down at you lovingly. 

"What can I say? I'm a hungry girl." You kiss her cheeks, ghosting your lips over hers. "Although," you tease the corner of her mouth, "...you're looking pretty tasty right about now. I might just eat you instead." 

She squeals as you crawl on top of her, pretending to bite her skin as you tickle her sides. 

"I surrender!" She shouts, finally giving into you. You kiss her one last time before pulling away and practically dragging her out of the structure. 

"I'll get started on cooking the fish if you grab some water." You offer, rustling through your handmade crate for the skewers you use to prepare food. 

"Alright," she nods, kissing you on the cheek before grabbing your canteens and setting off towards the freshwater spring not far from camp. 

"Be careful!" You call out after her, smiling when she turns around to face you with her hands in the form of a heart. 

---------

"Good job baby. That was delicious." She compliments, leaning back against the log you use as seating beside the fire. She almost always opts to sit in the sand and rest against it for some reason, but you're long past questioning her at this point. Rosie's… unique. 

"They don't call me Chef Y/N for nothing." You quip, holding your head higher with a sense of self-importance. 

"They don't call you that anyway." 

"Hey," you pout, slapping the back of her head with no real force. "Let a girl pretend, would you?"

"Fine, my apologies." She smiles again, and you can't help but do the same. You've lost count of how many times she's made you laugh over these past few weeks, and although you hope to be rescued sooner rather than later, the thought of being stuck here with her for a while longer doesn't seem all that bad. 

"You're doing it again," she trails off, wiggling her voice up and down to tease you. 

"What?" 

"Looking at me like a lovesick puppy." Her eyes shine in the warm, tropical sunlight, pools of rich amber that you wouldn't mind getting lost in. They match the color of whiskey almost perfectly.

"Not my fault. Have you seen yourself?." She scoffs, but blushes nonetheless. You lean over to press a kiss to the top of her head affectionately. 

Your attention is stolen away all at once as you hear the words you've been imagining ever since you arrived on the island. "Land, ho!" Multiple voices bellow out in the distance, prompting you to search for their source. Collective cheering can be heard, and you swiftly stand -- as if that simple act will miraculously enable you to see better. 

"We're coming, Captain!" Jisoo, your second in command shouts, seemingly hanging off the bow of the ship -- your ship. A squad of others follows behind, maintaining a tight formation as they make their way to shore. 

"Us too, Captain!" Someone calls from one of the neighboring boats, apparently one of Rosé's crewmembers. She waves back excitedly, and you bite back the smile that tugs at your cheeks. 

Eventually they reach land.

"Y/N!" Your scout, Lisa, shrieks like a schoolgirl, running into your arms eagerly. She was the first friend you ever made during your training years, long before you met Rosé, and you were truly worried for her.

"Ah, Lisa. Jisoo." You look between the two of them proudly, glad to see them alive and well. "What happened?" 

"We managed to defeat Captain Crusty's men--" she stops to explain when she notices your brows furrowed in amused confusion, "--that's the nickname we gave the bandit leader. Anyway, we defeated them and repaired the ship enough to make it back to shore. They did some major damage, though." 

You nod, satisfied with their story, until you remember that they didn't come alone. You subtly motion your head to the other crew, and Jisoo gets the memo. "We found the rest of these pea-brains back at the docks and they insisted on coming along."

"Hey, it's not like we wanted to be stuck with you either!" Jennie, Rosé's second, hits back, defending herself and the rest of her crew. "If your moron captain would've listened to Rosé we wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't have lost anyone in the process." 

"Quiet," Rosé warns, stepping in front of her to block the two sides from each other.

Despite knowing it isn't technically your fault, Jennie's words do hold some truth. You feel guilty for all the senseless violence you could've potentially spared your people from enduring, and the what-ifs weigh heavily on your mind and heart. 

"So long as I'm still in charge, no one will disrespect Y/N or her crew. Are we clear? I won't take kindly to any of you going against me." It's a heavy warning, and her tone makes it clear that she'll be true to her word. They know better than to test her. Her eyes scan the group of misfits, all looking bewildered by her sudden change of heart. It must be a bit jarring for them, after being such bitter enemies with the others for so long. Regardless, scattered nods and grumbles of acceptance leave them before they all scurry away to get started on their tasks, looking like scolded children. 

You send Lisa and Jisoo along with the rest of your crew to go ahead and board again, seeing that you have no real equipment to pack up this time. It feels wrong to leave the island  -- the place that brought you back to Rosie and allowed you to open your heart to her -- without something to remember it by. So, with a whispered, "Wait here," you run back to camp to snatch something. 

You return soon after, a huge smile plastered on your face. "You're bringing our door?" She laughs, tilting her head at your strange choice. 

"Duh. Good to know your eyes still work, I was getting worried." You tease, giggling as she pinches you. 

"Come on baby; let's go. Last one there has to clean the poop deck." 

"Get back here!" She yells, chasing you into the chilly water with a smile. Whether she loses or not doesn't matter much to her -- she finally has you after all these years, and she can't wait to see where the future will take the two of you. 

[blitheringmcgonagall]

My Gallant Lad - Part IV

So I got a wonderful anon telling me that this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fic, it’s part of my finished canon marauders fic We Can Be Heroes. But, because it works as a stand alone story, I posted it here in four parts. I hope you enjoy it! Set during the first wizarding war, Lily is very BAMF (but tbh so is James)

TW: angsty and violence

Part I here: After their worst row ever, Lily and James get captured by Voldemort...

Part II here: James tries to save Lily

Part III here: Lily tries to save James

PART IV

(PS this is not pro- Snape at all, quite the opposite, for this to make sense you’ll have to read the other parts, lol!)

Mulciber swallowed.

“Now help me lift Potter, and for fuck’s sake be careful, he’s perilously close to death as it is!” Snape said.

He was so angry his body was shaking in agitation.

Mulciber lifted James’ body as though it were made of glass.

                                       ***

“I’ll take it from here,” Snape ordered.

They were standing underneath the main door of the castle, which led into the courtyard.

“I thought we were bringing Potter and his vile mudblood to the Dark Lord?” Mulciber said, frowning suspiciously.

“Change of plan, Mulciber,” Snape said matter-of-factly. “I want to try and get Evans to talk, that way if Potter snuffs it, we won’t risk being beheaded by him.”

“What do you mean?” Mulciber looked at him in bewilderment. “If you attack Evans and manage to injure her also, we’re doubly fucked!”

“I won’t fuck it up, unlike you dithering idiots I actually know what I’m doing!” Snape says angrily.

Mulciber stared hard at him.

“Are you sure you’re Snape?” he said, narrowing his eyes and reaching for his wand. “You’re acting strangely and I-“

“He’s Snape all right, but under the Imperius Curse,” Lily interjected. “Expelliarmus!”

Mulciber’s wand flew into Lily’s outstretched hand.

“You?” Mulciber seethed. “How in Morgana’s hell did you manage to Imperio him? Last I heard you were wailing painfully awful songs from your cell, giving us all a headache! I thought you’d given up!”

“The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad, for all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad,” Lily shrugged. “You just hadn’t experienced the merry part yet!”

“You’re not a man,” Mulciber sneered.

“Ha!” Lily’s face broke into a harsh smile. “What Chesterton didn’t say about Irish women is that when they’re angry, all their wars are won!”

Mulciber stared at her sullenly.

“Not my fault that you consistently underestimate me, Mulciber!” Lily shot back. “You think you’d have learnt by now!”

Mulciber’s face looked like curdled milk.

“Too late,” Lily said. “Obliviate!”

Mulciber’s expression changed slowly to one of utter confusion as he looked between Lily, James and Snape. He hadn’t even seen the spell hit him.

“What happened to him?” he said, scratching behind his ear and staring at James’ body. “Where’s your Head Girl badge? Your uniform?”

“Quidditch injury,” Lily said flatly. “Vicious Slytherin tactics. One hundred points from your House, now back to your common room before I have you expelled!”

“Whaat?” Mulciber said, looking utterly bewildered.

“I’m counting till ten. Ten… nine… eight…” Lily said.

Mulciber stumbled and turned immediately, muttering incoherent protests.

“Not bad, Lily Evans,” Snape whispered with a vicious grin. “Not bad at all.”

                                                  ***

“Outside! Now!” Snape ordered.

Lily Evans remained silent as she walked outside at a steady pace, Snape following her and dragging James Potter’s body along the ancient flagstones.

“Now, it seems that nothing will persuade Dumbledore’s man to reveal what has happened to the Dark Lord’s precious treasure, a book Dumbledore’s men stole! Potter nearly died refusing to tell us. I’m ordering you to tell me, or I’ll make you kill your own husband!” he called out.

“No, I won’t tell you anything,” Lily said with effort.

“Wow! That’s dope!” Villiers whispered loudly to Wilkes.

The two men were sitting on the battlements having a smoke and peering down with interest at the scene unfolding below them.

“Look what Snape is up to! I never thought he was into that shit!” Wilkes replied. “He usually lets us handle that kind of stuff, says it’s boring!”

They looked at each other and grinned.

“Massive!” Villiers giggled, bumping fists with Wilkes.

Snape picked up his wand.

“Last chance, Miss. Evans,” he said, dragging James closer to the middle of the courtyard.

He was holding two other wands in his hand.

“What is going on here?”

Snape whirled around.

Voldemort was standing at the castle gate, and with him Evan Rosier. Voldemort’s wand was pointed at him.

“I am quite simply trying to establish the whereabouts of your missing book, my Lord,” Snape said. “I thought this might work.”

“Rosier here tells me you have been acting exceedingly strange,” Voldemort’s voice was icy. “He thinks you may be under the Imperius Curse.”

“Rosier is neither observant nor intelligent, my Lord,” Snape said stiffly.

“Be that as it may, Severus, you are not yourself, you would not usually dare speak to me with this much courage,” Voldemort replied, stepping forwards.

“My Lord?” Severus replied.

“Let us see what happens, shall we?” Voldemort said, whirling around at the last minute and pointing his wand at Lily.

“Stupefy!” Voldemort said with a lazy swish of his wand.

Lily Evans crumpled to the ground. Snape stood motionless, as though unsure what to do.

“Ah, the spell fades, I see. I had hoped you would not be so easily overcome by it. You disappoint me, Severus, I thought you were stronger than that. I thought you knew the mudblood well enough to watch out for any tricks she might play? Or were you too enticed by her beauty to focus on doing your job properly?” Voldemort spat out. “You shall pay for this mistake! And the object of your affections will most definitely pay.”

“I’m afraid I underestimated the mudblood,” Snape said, with a condescending smirk at the Dark Lord. “I don’t know her as well as I thought I did. She should perhaps have been sorted into Slytherin. It appears that Lily Evans is a devious little bitch!”

Startling emerald eyes glared at Voldemort from Snape’s face. As the wheels in Voldemort’s mind whirled, Snape removed a leather bracelet from his wrist and tapped it, revealing a large glittering brass key.

“Póg mo thóin, Riddle!” he said, flicking the V at Voldemort (who looked momentarily stunned) as he grabbed hold of James’ arm and apparated into thin air.

“I don’t get it,” Rosier said, looking at Voldemort and rubbing his forehead as though in pain. “Was that Snape? No, hang on.. what was..?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” roared Voldemort, raising his head as his blood-curdling screams carried over the courtyard and into the surrounding forest.

He kicked out viciously at Rosier’s leg sending him hopping around in circles howling with pain. A family of carrion crows, disturbed by the commotion, flapped and squawked upwards from the turrets and battlements.

“Which one of you is the imbecile who allowed Lily Evans to escape?” he screamed at Rosier. “Why did none of you stop her?”

Villiers and Wilkes ducked down behind the walls of the battlements, grimacing.

A splash of white bird dropping landed on Voldemort’s nose. Rosier stared at him.

“You have some…” he said, pointing to Voldemort’s face. “Just there?”

Voldemort looked ready to kill him.

“If you don’t permanently dispose of this group of crows by Salazar’s soul, I will feed you to them myself!” he shouted wildly, waving his wand at Rosier, and rubbing his face furiously with the back of his sleeve.

“A murder of crows, not a group, but whatever,” Rosier muttered to himself, looking peeved, as he aimed Avada Kedavras at the screeching birds.

Voldemort walked over to the body of Lily Evans and stared at the darkening hair and sallower skin, Snape’s eyes looking up at him.

“Legilimens!” he intoned.

The memory was tampered with, powerfully, so that he was unable to see some of the earlier incidents, but he could see the conversation between “Snape” and Avery, Fuck Voldemort, I hate that bastard! Avery running off to hide from him. Seething with rage, he grabbed Rosier’s arm and touched his dark mark.

He watched as all his followers apparated around him, all except Snape who lay half-stunned on the ground, and Hugo Avery.

“Find Avery, bring him to me, now, or you all die!” he hissed, the red veins in his sclera protruding menacingly. “Nooooowwwww!!!!”

                                                  ***

 “I don’t know what happened,” Frank said, his croaky voice difficult to understand in between coughing fits.

“He needs to come with me to the Infirmatory,” Poppy interrupted, looking at Dumbledore and pointing towards the door.

Frank continued coughing and shook his head forcefully.

“We were ambushed… they were waiting for us… they wanted to get Black and Lupin,” he wheezed. “They got Lily and James… I wanted to create a diversion but before I could move, one of them released noxious fumes, no doubt to catch any other Order members, I was knocked out cold… I fell backwards and the thicket hid me from sight… woke up freezing cold a short while ago… I couldn’t find any trace of them whatsoever. I only got back just as Lily apparated here with James, he looks bad.”

The ancient double door burst open as he spoke, and Sirius Black stormed inside, his black jeans soaking wet, his leather jacket still in his hands, closely followed by a haggard-looking Remus Lupin.

“We came as soon as we got your owl. Where are they?” he roared, going straight up to Frank and grabbing hold of his collar urgently. “Where the fuck are they? Tell me!”

Remus found himself unable to utter a single word.

                                                     ***

The door of the Infirmary flew open, Sirius breathless as though he had just sprinted up five flights of stairs (which he had). He looked at Lily and seeing the pain and fear in her eyes, he forced himself to look at James lying unconscious in the bed behind her - it didn’t look like his brother, the bruised and battered body covered in what he immediately recognised as myriad curses, his usually tanned skin a deathly pale colour. He looked already dead. He looked back at Lily, the darkness under her eyes, her quivering lips.

“Lily,” he tried to say her name but no words came out, caught in his throat.

“I know, sweetie,” Lily’s voice a hoarse whisper.

Then they flung their arms around each other, gripping on for dear life. Sirius felt her chest heave and held her even closer as her quiet sobs filled the silent room, shattering his heart.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered back, his breath still caught inside his chest, trapped.

What could he say, hearing her heartbroken sounds?

“We won’t... we shan’t let him die,” he managed to say eventually, shutting his eyes tightly to stop himself breaking down. He moved to take both her hands in his own, looking down at her with tears in his eyes.

He didn’t even know was he trying to comfort her or was he trying to comfort himself.

“I… I used an Unforgivable, Sirius,” Lily said eventually, keeping her head down.

“I would have sprained my wrist throwing Unforgivables at the bastards!” Sirius said. “I wish I could have done it for you.”

He had badness in him already, let him hold it for all of them.

It should have been him. He should have been there instead of James, instead of Lily.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Lily’s voice shook. “I did it to save James… it felt wrong, Sirius, it is wrong and disgusting, but I know I’d do it again to save him. Am I a bad person, Sirius? I.. I saw what they did to him, I wanted them all dead… I thought about it... I wanted to. I don’t want to become like them, Sirius, but I wanted to kill them, so badly!”

“Lily, you didn’t kill them. You could have tried to, but you didn’t. You saved James. Merlin, you saved my brother, the only brother I have left, I can never thank you enough,” Sirius’ voice broke.

He wondered what he would have done in her place.

“It was Snape, he wanted to save me, but I had to find James, I couldn’t… he hurt James, I hate him for it,” Lily said desperately, squeezing Sirius’ arms.

“Fuck that creepy bastard!” Sirius said.

“What if Voldemort kills him? What if he dies? It will be my fault!” Lily whispered. “I hate him so much, but I don’t want to get him killed. I wouldn’t care if he died in battle, not now, not after everything he’s done to James! But being tortured and killed for trying to save me? I don’t want that, am I mad?”

“You had to,“ Sirius said, gripping her tightly. “You had to try to save James. You couldn’t leave with Snape, you know that would have been wrong! You are not to blame for anything Voldemort does!”

“I need James too, Sirius, he doesn’t see that, he thought I could manage without him, he’s so stupid, such a stupid, darling, beautiful man,” Lily stopped, her hand over her mouth.

“He can’t die, Poppy won’t let him die,” Sirius whispered back.

Lily nodded, still crying. He saw her sway and grabbed hold of her shoulders.

“Merlin Lily,” he said anxiously. “Sit down immediately! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need Poppy? Will I get-“

“ No, please, Sirius, I didn’t get hurt, James-“ she stopped, unable to continue, and bringing her hand up to her mouth again.

He didn’t think he could handle hearing what had happened.

“Hush, Lily, you’re both safe now,” he heard himself say.

“He... I couldn’t... I tried...” she said. She closed her eyes and swayed again, sitting down suddenly and placing her head between her knees.

“I need some water, and something to eat,” she said, sounding suddenly anxious as her almond shaped clear eyes searched Sirius’ for reassurance.

“I... Merlin, yes of course, Darling, let me get that for you!” Sirius said, relief blossoming at some small task he could do to help. “Do you want a firewhisky instead?”

“No! I can’t drink now I’m ... I’m a bit dehydrated Sirius, I better stick to the water,” Lily said, placing her hand over her lower abdomen in a protective gesture.

“Yes of course,” Sirius said feverishly, throwing his leather jacket on.

“I’ll get it,” Dearborn was standing in the doorway looking at Lily uncomfortably.

“Lily, I know you already had a debriefing with Professor Dumbledore, but he was wondering if you wouldn’t mind answering a few more-“ he continued.

“No!”

Both Lily and Sirius spoke at once.

“Not now, my husband needs me here, Dumbledore can wait,” Lily said, staring at Dearborn with a hostile expression as she swiped at her red eyes furiously.

“Tell him to go fuck himself,” Sirius growled.

Dearborn nodded, recognising defeat.

“You get some food and water for Lily, Caradoc, I’ll tell Dumbledore,” Remus said. Remus stood quietly behind Dearborn, a grim look, no obvious emotions displayed on his tired face.

“Righto,” Dearborn nodded reluctantly.

“Hurry up,” Remus ordered. “We don’t want Poppy to end up with another patient.”

“Righto,” Dearborn said, looking relieved to have an excuse to leave.

                                                      *** “You wanted to speak with me, Mr. Lupin?” Dumbledore said, gesturing vaguely towards the chair in front of him.

Remus sat down. The silence made him nervous.

“You feel guilty for swapping your week on call with the Potters. You want to make sure that your friends are protected from danger as much as possible from now on?”

Remus felt his cheeks flush. He nodded, feeling even worse.

“Good,” Dumbledore said. “I can see why you’d think that way.”

Remus swallowed. Dumbledore blamed him too? He wanted to crawl under the floorboards never to re-emerge.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking down, unable to meet the Professor’s gaze. “I should have stayed…”

“That’s quite alright, Remus, these things happen, and we have to learn from them,” Dumbledore said.

Remus felt himself slide further down the chair. He wanted to cry. It reminded him of The Prank at the end of Fifth Year. It should have been him. He should have insisted Sirius go with someone else. He felt personally responsible for what had happened, and if James died because of him… if James died…

“What can I do, Sir?” Remus whispered hoarsely. “Tell me there is something I can do to help!”

He looked up and caught Dumbledore looking at him keenly, with an astute gaze.

“Of course there is something you can do to help, Remus,” Dumbledore said, steepling his hands together. “It will be dangerous though, the most dangerous mission I have ever given any member of the Order.”

Remus nodded dumbly.

“It is also top secret. You must not discuss this information with a single soul,” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes assessing Remus coolly. “Not the Marauders, not Lily Potter, especially not Sirius Black. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Remus said, sitting up straighter. “You can trust me.”

“I hope so, Remus,” Dumbledore said. “Most people wouldn’t.”

Remus froze, taken aback.

“I…” he stuttered.

“Luckily for you, I am not most people, Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. “Lemon sherbet?”

Somewhere in the back of Remus’ mind the words you bastard and what the fuck presented themselves as appropriate responses.

He declined politely.

“I have a singularly important and quite unusual mission, and it seems to me that you are the perfect candidate to volunteer for it,” Dumbledore said, sucking loudly on the muggle sweet and leaning back into his chair.

Somehow the wizard’s eyes seemed beadier in this light. Remus waited.

“I will of course understand if you turn down this opportunity, Remus, that you may be too frightened to go,” Dumbledore said. “Other Order members may be more-“

Remus’ jaw tightened. The words you bastard and what the fuck once more presented themselves as appropriate responses.

“Other Order members have no idea how little I fear most things,” Remus said, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes, of course, Remus, I am well aware that compared to most-“ Dumbledore said, with a placating raise of his palms.

“What mission?” Remus asked.

“A mission to infiltrate Fenrir Greyback’s werewolf pack. I am aware you have already made his acquaintance,” Dumbledore said. “To see if they can be persuaded to abandon their leader and join our side in the war. And to spy on them, at any rate.”

Remus felt a cold shiver of dread run down his spine. His old Headmaster couldn’t be serious, surely. That was a hopeless mission, a pointless waste of life, a …

Greyback…

An ear-splitting scream of terror, his own. Rabid eyes. Massive yellow canines lunging towards him, saliva dripping off them. Laughter and howling.

“Tell your Daddy I said hello!”

A tearing sensation as huge teeth sank into his hip. Another ear-splitting scream, this time of pain…

He felt his hands tremble and gripped the edges of the armchair in agitation.

“If you’d rather not, I am sure I can persuade another member of the Order to pretend to be a werewolf. With some clever Transfiguration spells, which many of our members are particularly gifted at, especially your own friends-“ Dumbledore said.

“No!” Remus said, standing up suddenly and staring hard at the other man, his breathing erratic. “Merlin no! You have no idea…”

His voice trailed off again, his heart hammering wildly against his ribcage.

“So, Mr. Lupin, you don’t feel you can bring yourself to-“ Dumbledore said.

“No!” Remus practically shouted. “I’ll do it! Don’t even think about asking anyone else… I’ll do it, alright?”

“I see,” Dumbledore smiled kindly again. “My deepest apologies Remus, how very brave of you. I should never have doubted you.”

Remus bit the side of his lip. This was akin to agreeing to a suicide mission. Any sane individual would have refused to accept the offer. But surely Dumbledore had guessed he would never allow any of his friends or colleagues to go instead of him, to risk being turned? The bastard must have known all along. Yet he owed so much to this old man, this powerful wizard, the one they were all relying on to beat Voldemort and to win this war. The one who had given him a chance. Who had risked his reputation by allowing him into Hogwarts. Who had not expelled him after the disastrous Prank in Fifth Year. Maybe he was being unkind and unfair to the man. Perhaps this mission was genuinely important?

“No need to apologise, Sir,” Remus said with a small smile, extending his hand out.

“Thank you, Remus,” Dumbledore said, shaking his hand warmly. “I do appreciate your help in this war. I shall contact you shortly with more information about this entire affair. Please remember to keep this top secret.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Remus.

                                           ***

He opened the door quietly. The room was dimly lit by the fire and the large candles on either side of the infirmary bed. James looked the same, somewhere between life and death. Lily was sitting on a chair, her head lying on the bed beside him, still fully clothed, the dark shadows under her eyes more pronounced in this light. She was holding James’ hand. Sirius was nowhere to be seen, but at the foot of the bed, on top of the carefully folded blankets lay Padfoot. He was whimpering in his sleep. The shaggy dog opened his eyes briefly, fixing Remus with his mournful grey eyes.

“Sleep, Padfoot,” Remus said quietly. “I’ll stay up. I’ll call Poppy if there’s any change. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Padfoot yelped quietly, turning to look at Lily and James and then looked back at Remus and whined. He was looking at Remus accusingly. Where had he disappeared off to, why hadn’t he comforted Lily? Did he not care?

“I’m sorry,” Remus said.

It sounded curt. Inadequate.

What more could he say?

Padfoot whined once again, dropping his head into his paws, looking dejected. Remus sat on the ground, his head in his hands. He could go over, talk to Sirius, but his boyfriend always knew if he was hiding anything from him, and he was too tired to make up an excuse for what had just happened. Too tired, too traumatised, too selfish…

He stayed where he was.

Padfoot slept fitfully, beset by nightmares. Remus did not sleep a wink. He did not allow himself to sleep. The fear of nightmares kept him awake, as though he were four years old again. Besides, he did not deserve to sleep.

                                          ***

PS Póg mo thóin - kiss my ass in Irish

PS To find out if James is okay, and if Lily is in fact pregnant and if yes, what happens next etc, I’m afraid you’ll have to keep reading  We Can Be Heroes. If you just want to read on, it’s from Chapter 45.

 If you want, I can post more stand alones (Harry’s birth? the Jily engagement? Jily Wedding? Wolfstar first kiss etc??or the next part but it just leads into more stuff!)

[pikapeppa]

Hi! I just want to say how helpful your smut tips are! I’m still new to all of that, but I want to know. Do you know how to write going down smut? And like fingering? (Ughhh it’s so awkward to ask😂)

I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS VERY DELAYED REPLY NONNY! But don’t worry about being awkward, That’s what anon asks are for! 😂

A very tiny tutorial on writing fingering and oral sex

Honestly, I approach the writing of all sex acts with the same general guidelines in mind, which I’ve broken down in more detail in this post. When it comes to fingering and oral specifically, though, the thing I pay special attention to is probably the word choices I use in describing these acts. Personally, the words or phrasings I use depend on two main things: 

personal preference — in other words, I use phrases that turn ME on, and

what’s in-character for the people involved in your sex act. 

I’ll talk a little more about these two things below the cut!

Personal preference: writing what turns you on

This is pretty much the #1 rule I follow when I’m writing any smut: I write it in a way that I personally enjoy reading it. 

I know that might sound obvious, but different people focus on different things when they write smut. Some focus on the down-and-dirty body positions, some people write it in an indirect way that focuses on feelings while having you infer the bodily acts, and some people do a combination of both. Figure out what you like to focus on when reading it, and write what like to read.

Similarly, the particular word use and phrasings that people use depends on their style of smut and personal preferences. For instance, I never use the word ‘cunt’ because in North America, it’s a really vile-sounding word, but I know a lot of people who feel that way about the word ‘pussy’, which I personally prefer to use. You may also prefer to avoid direct references to anatomy entirely, using euphemisms like ‘her slickness’ or ‘her fragrant heat’ instead when you’re talking about a vagina. 

Overall, when you’re thinking of how to describe the acts of fingering and oral, think about the phrases you’ve enjoyed when reading these acts, and use phrasings that turn you on. In a nutshell, write what sounds good to you. 

Writing in-character for the people involved

As well as using phrases that I personally like, I always try to use language and phrasing that’s consistent with the POV of the character who is “narrating” the sex act. As an example, I’m going to consider @schoute’s boys, Cullen Rutherford and Raleigh Samson from Dragon Age, since they’re VERY different in the smut I’ve written for them. 😂 

Let’s consider Cullen. He’s got good manners, is very gentlemanly, the romance is a sweet slow burn and doesn’t jump straight into the lusty stuff. And YES, Cullen can be an assertive lion in the sack, but that’s not generally his default persona in the canon romance scenes. 

Given all of this, we headcanon that Cullen NEVER says the word ‘cock’ because it’s too vulgar and his momma raised him right, LOL. So in all of the smut I’ve ever written for him, he never thinks or says the word ‘cock’ — or if he does, it’s like. Once in blue moon when he’s been goaded into a dominant mood. I also never use the word ‘pussy’ when writing Cullen smut because it feels too vulgar for Cullen, and even when Cullen is in his most horny moods, his sex is always very tender. 

An example line from some Cullen/Piper Lavellan smut:

Cullen’s manhood throbbed in response to her pleasured sounds. He lifted his hips by instinct, but Piper’s hips were still moving and pressing her swollen nub toward his tongue, and Cullen forced himself to focus on the sharpness of her breathing and her secret scent as she rocked herself toward his mouth.

Please note the lack of cock, pussy, or fuck in this sequence. 😂

Samson, on the other hand: OKAY, THIS IS ENTIRELY ME AND SCHOUTE’S HEADCANONS since there is no canon romance, but we imagine him to be a lot less genteel, a lot more vulgar from his years scraping by in Lowtown. He can be quite dirty, and in our fic for Samson and Roman Hawke, he basically matches her hard-and-furious style of fucking, so his smut is liberally sprinkled with all the bad words: fuck, cock, pussy, all of it. An example line from a chapter of Samson/Roman smut: 

He tipped her chin back. “I’ll bury my face in your pussy and lick you until you’re begging me to fuck you,” he growled.

Please note the very obvious presence of pussy and fuck in this one single line. 😂😂😂 

And there you have it! A very short mini-tutorial on writing fingering and oral sex. In a nutshell, I try to pay special attention to the way I phrase and describe these acts, and I write them in a way that a) turns me on and b) is consistent with the POV of the character who is “narrating” the scene. And really, if you still aren’t sure how to write these acts, my advice would be to read more of them! Read more examples of oral sex and fingering to figure out what you like when reading it, and use these examples as inspiration for yourself (without plagiarizing, of course). 

Feel free to reach out if you have more questions! 

- Love, from your friendly neighbourhood Pikapeppa xoxo

[anti-catradora-receipts]

I really had to see someone say catra didnt abuse adora bc she "didnt have a position of power" over her. And claimed that i "didnt know what abuse was". Well i guess the abuse that ive been through in relationships (platonic and romantic), that has often been like catra/adoras dynamic, wasnt abuse huh. Guess im not an abuse victim after all by that logic

Dear anon,

Firstly, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for everything you’ve been through. And I’m really sorry that someone tried to invalidate your experiences with abuse. I really hope you’re doing okay and taking care of yourself.

Secondly, I disagree with the person’s statement of “catra didnt abuse adora bc she "didnt have a position of power" over her.” That’s false. 

Catra admits to manipulating Adora during the show. And this article talks about manipulation in a relationship and how manipulation is all about power and control. I extracted some parts of the article and placed it right below (within the quotation marks): 

“People who manipulate use mental distortion and emotional exploitation to influence and control others. Their intent is to have power and control over others to get what they want.

A manipulators knows what your weaknesses are and will use them against you. This will keep happening unless you actively and assertively put a stop to it. That said, it is not always easy.”

Next, this article is from the perspective of a victim of abuse after leaving an emotionally abusive relationship. The author of the article wanted to better understand their past abusive relationship and shared the insights that they gained from reading the book, ‘Power Games: Confronting Others’ Hurtful Behaviour and Transforming Our Own by Kay Douglas and Dr Kim McGregor’. I feel that the article illustrates in depth the enormous power imbalance between Catra and Adora and I extracted some parts of the article and put it below (within the double quotations): 

“After leaving an emotionally abusive relationship, I found myself needing to understand what had happened. Like most people who leave a volatile situation I was, quite simply, unable to process and articulate what was wrong. Apart from being incredibly vulnerable, I was also just too close to my own situation to see it objectively.

So I decided to read Power Games: Confronting Others’ Hurtful Behaviour and Transforming Our Own by Kay Douglas and Dr Kim McGregor. What I found was a wealth of information confirming what I couldn’t express or even see for myself. Here are some choice insights from the book, as well as some of my own thoughts*:

1. Control is always at the heart of a power game. The need to assert control will usually involve undermining and/or discrediting another to achieve our own ends. For example, we are using power games when we:

bully or intimidate someone into agreeing with our demands;

bait and provoke others through disturbing statements or actions and then claim they’re being over-sensitive/emotional, crazy or irrational (known as gaslighting); 

...

engage in name calling, put-downs, harsh criticism or threats.

2. Manipulators are not concerned with taking responsibility for their decisions/behaviours/feelings. Instead, they create a smokescreen by shifting the focus or blame to others. And consequently, the other party must assume the responsibility for making the situation ‘better’. If the other party is a ‘good’ person, they will comply with whatever demands are issued (peace at any price). As soon as they resist, however, the manipulator is likely to go on the attack.

3. For the receiver, cumulative exposure to such tumult may reduce self-esteem and increase anxiety, resentment and fear. Receivers will experience intense emotional reactions and may end up interpreting these as proof they are selfish, unbalanced, over-sensitive and unreasonable. They may lose their sense of self; either over-compensating to ‘get it right’ and ‘be better’ or even adopting manipulative tactics against others.

...

4. For the receiver, regaining personal power starts with a shift in one’s thinking. More specifically, an acknowledgement that the manipulator must take responsibility for their feelings and behaviours and any future change. It is accepting that the dynamic needs to change and learning to distinguish between real and manufactured guilt. It is constructing and defending boundaries and a willingness to listen to what anger is trying to say. It is the ability to cut through the smokescreen tactics and see the situation clearly. It is the ability to speak one’s truth and articulate one’s feelings. It is honouring the self. And, sometimes, this will mean leaving.

What I learned is that while not everyone who feels inadequate is a manipulator, every manipulator feels inadequate. So do we all, I know. But, what sets manipulators apart is the way they consistently and systematically re-distribute this inadequacy onto others.

...

What I also learned is that by disengaging I was not giving up, but that I was actively saying ‘I am worth more than this’.”

On a personal note, I just wanted to point out some additional reasons I see a huge power imbalance between Catra and Adora:

- The fact that Catra was completely okay with controlling Adora and Catra was not willing to give up her control of Adora.

- The fact that Adora seems to be the one who is constantly scared of Catra. At the present moment, I can only remember two scenes when Catra is scared of Adora: when Adora gets corrupted and attacks Catra at the beginning of White Out (S2E5), and when Adora gives Catra “The Look” at the end of The Portal (S3E6) . In addition, take a look at this scene. Adora honestly believes that Catra is going to kill her:

- The fact that Catra is completely okay with taking away Adora’s power. In the following scene, Catra doesn’t even see Adora as a person but as a tool. Catra literally states that they’ll use the corrupted sword in order to control Adora and use Adora as an advantage for the Horde. Catra even states that she’ll control Adora to kill Adora’s own friends. That is unbelievably sick. Moreover, Catra was completely okay with controlling Adora’s choices and actions. In fact, this scene supports the fact that Catra was completely okay with taking away Adora’s freedom. 

And honestly, there are some stark similarities between the previous scene with Catra and the following scene with Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver was ready to take away Adora’s power and use Adora as a tool against the Rebellion. 

I’d also like to point out that what Catra was willing to do to Adora, Horde Prime had actually done to Catra in S5. Catra’s power and freedom was taken away by Horde Prime and Horde Prime controlled Catra to attack Adora. The fact that Horde Prime took away Catra’s power and freedom was cruel and despicable. And the fact that Catra was willing to take away Adora’s power and freedom is cruel and despicable. 

Moreover, Adora ended up with Catra, a person who was perfectly okay with taking away Adora’s freedom and power. 

That is absolutely vile.

Finally I just want to add that my pinned post titled “Catra abused Adora.” has hyperlinks to resources relating to abuse:

- The Emotional Abuse section is reviewed by professionals. 

- The Physical Abuse section is provided by an online mental health service in Australia.

And these resources confirm that Catra emotionally and physically abuses Adora. 

In conclusion, you are right to say that Catra abuses Adora. Again, I’m really sorry that someone tried to invalidate your experiences with abuse. And I really hope you know that your feelings about Catradora are completely valid. 

I genuinely hope you’re talking care of yourself. Seriously, please make sure you check in with yourself and prioritize some self-care. 

Thank you very much for sharing. ✨

[doomstypewriter]

would u do forbidden love, secret relationship moceit? i was thinking a pseudo-historical au, ideally with homophobia as the motivator for the forbidden/secret part but if u absolutely dont wanna do that janus being an outlaw would also work i suppose. just some whacky bois sneaking through windows to hang out, nearly being caught smooching, funny hijinks, then! sudden melancholy about how in love they are & never being able to show it

Finally, anon, I am done!!!!  I gladly present to you the final chapter, just in time for Valentine's Day (call that timing (once you read the thing you'll get this reference)). 

 Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for giving me the chance to write something this cool! 

<< Chapter 1                                       AO3

We call it an affair because it's a forbidden romance 

Word count: 9376 

 Summary: Janus is dumb. He may be intelligent, but intelligence isn't at odds with poor foresight. So he makes a mistake that can get him killed. Romina is very gay and very angry. Patton is confused but does his best. Virginia is the only one with a functioning brain cell. Or, how a chain of misunderstandings almost ruins everything. 

 TW: Seemingly Unsymphathetic fem!Roman (not really, she is just feeling very hurt and angry and it is all resolved eventually), mild transphobia, mentions of blood, mentions of violence (there is a sword fight), mild misogyny, internalised misogyny, internalised homophobia, homophobia, mild threats of violence (again, the sword fight), swearing... I think that's all, but if you spot anything else tell me. 

Chapter 2: The rest of their lives 

The light raised above the darkness and it was morning again. In two days time, Patton would be meeting the countess, just so he could start properly courting her, not because his father wanted to get a title and land for his son. To suggest such a thing would be ridiculous. Scandalous even!

Reputation ruining…

Janus got up from his cot, unfit for the heavy silks that covered it, some stolen, some gifted by Patton. He looked at the things surrounding him. His house wasn’t so bad. It was in fact bigger than the places inhabited by most peasants, and a palace compared to the things in which people like him had to sleep… the things where he had had to lay in. The house consisted of one room, like most, but the size made up for the lack of divisions. 

This was a cave reimagined as a home. The walls had been lined with timber and thoroughly coated with stucco, the curving grooves of its application were not that noticeable, Janus was not a professional but he had certainly done his best. Aside from the absence of windows, it didn’t resemble a cave. There was a section of rock he had left uncovered at the very back, where water seeped out of the wall and provided him with a steady source of the thing. He would prefer not drinking watered-down stucco. 

He began to get dressed. All of his clothing was stored within a small but beautifully carved cupboard he had stolen from a manor in Bohemia. He had plenty of garments from here and there, five outfits in total! Stolen as well. 

In the house, what he hadn’t crafted himself he had stolen. Perfume bottles from France, boots and gold from the Kingdom of Aragon, a stiletto and a medium-sized silver mirror from the Republic of Venice… he even had two tapestries. 

But, even then, it was nothing compared to Villa Morandi. He surrounded himself with opulence to quench his thirst for wealth, the easy life of those above. His home was an illusion, a taste of richness, in which a poor man could pretend. This was not a place where Patton could live, let alone want to. 

If he was to spread rumours, then what? A plan of keeping Patton to himself would not succeed and his lover’s life would be as good as done. 

After packing his fanciest clothes and putting on the ones he used for travelling, he set to leave. He carried his stiletto, a grappling hook and a sword, all three perfectly hidden under his cape. 

Using a hidden pulley system, Janus moved the boulder that hid the entrance to the cave, returning it to its place afterwards. No one would find his home no matter how long he left.

The path down the slope of the mountain twisted and turned. Janus was in no disposition to waste time, so he went across the forest. Half-lost in the trees lay the cabin of a woodsman’s family. A while ago, Janus had left them a steed along with one florin. The family cared for the horse, not knowing exactly what to do. As the horse appeared and disappeared, bringing them thirty soldi each time, they began to get the gist.  Upon reaching the cabin, he headed for a well-built timber shed where his horse waited, fed and rested. 

He left thirty soldi on a small stool at the corner of the shed, mounted his horse, and galloped away. 

The Regio county manor was two days away by horse. 

Patton left yesterday, as his carriage would take longer to get there, stops and all, than one man on horseback. 

Janus paused at the base of the mountain. With one whistle his hawk surfaced from the sea of trees to land on his forearm-length glove. 

“You are to find Signor Morandi’s and Patton’s carriage. Follow them without drawing attention to yourself, find me and report to me at dusk. If anything urgent were to happen, come to my side immediately”.

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

His room at the inn felt quiet despite the muffled sounds from down below, where people chanted and told stories. 

The cool breeze wouldn’t be half-unpleasant if he wasn’t leaning on the ledge of a wide-open window. I also didn’t help that he was in his underwear. Father would certainly scold him for letting himself be seen in his linen undershirt. Some may think he was waiting for some disreputable company. 

It was more hoping than waiting. Also, Janus couldn’t possibly be disreputable. Out of costume, he had no reputation whatsoever. He liked to keep it that way. His real identity had no friend nor foe, in that he found safety. It had been hard to trust each other. Believe a criminal could be good. Let the son of a merchant become a friend, form an opinion of Janus, the original one. A part of him felt so proud, to see him grow, believe him, love him… another part found it sad for people to miss on such a wonderful person. 

Nights like this made him nostalgic. The first floors had tallow candles cast their diffuse glow onto the streets. Cobblestones seemed softened by the warm tint. Darkness rendered malleable to the light. It all made him miss Janus even more. 

The touch of his palm, holding the weight of his lazy head, a poor substitute to Janus’ hand. 

On such a night they had met. How scared he had been! A bit angry too… captivated as well, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself at the time. 

Patton smiled in contemplation. 

He had spotted him right there, sitting out of the adjacent window, ready to jump and make a run for it. 

“Stop! You will get hurt, good sir!” at first he did not realise the true nature of what was happening. 

To think Janus could be harmed by jumping off a window! He knew better now. Balconies were his true weakness. Thankfully, the only balconies he climbed now were his. 

“Oh, I’ll stop at once. Care to join?” Janus said as he pulled a stiletto out of his cape. 

“You are stealing!” 

“I would never!” he feigned indignation.

“Then what is it that you are doing, good sir?”

Oh, Patton could still hear the laugh that had followed, velvety and insincere. It brought a chill up his spine. 

“Stealing, of course”. 

“That is vile!” 

“Is it? You’re all allowed to provide for yourselves by buying fabrics and goods created by others. Am I not doing as you do? Are merchants not thieves? How can you tell a vile man from another? What do you know of this world, dear?” 

“Well… I... I know for certain that the woman in that room, the one you are stealing from, sir, is not wealthy. She may look the part, but that is thanks to heirlooms. Her family has been impoverished for two generations”. 

“Does it make you virtuous to spread the secrets of others? Isn’t gossip frowned upon by those of…” he lifted his gold rosary from under his shirtfront with the tip of his blade “your inclination”. 

“I am merely explaining so you may be persuaded to accept my gold in exchange for returning her possessions”. 

“Why shouldn’t I just take your gold and keep her stuff too?”

“We may be allowed to provide for ourselves in ways others may view as vile, but should we condemn those who cannot on the account of not wanting to express vileness or having no means to? I do not mean to intrude, sir, but the thoughts behind your words betray your stance in this dilemma. You shall find more satisfaction in stealing what you believe was already stolen. A poor woman is not worth your pride, nor ridding you of the chance to make me lose mine”.

Janus frowned as if he didn't expect him to say something like that. Later he would confess to him that what shocked him was hearing him say something smart. It keeps on surprising him whenever he does.

"Quick, hand me your gold and I might consider it". 

"No, sir, I expect you to leave what you have taken first". 

He did try to hide his eagerness. But, how his cape rustled, once inside, betrayed him. What kind of thief was so noisy? He thought to himself. Once they had built trust, Janus explained that he had been quite shaken up by his offering. He neglected to mention the reason why. Patton imagined it was because he found his disposition to put himself in harm’s way for others ridiculous. 

The thief’s half-concealed face emerged from the window. 

"Will three florin do?" Patton asked, pulling his coin bag. 

Janus looked at the rich embroidered fabric almost in awe. If only, for a second. 

“I suppose…” 

“Well, then, there you go, sir”. 

His hands pried the bag open, ready to pull the golden coins. 

“Hmm…” 

“What is the matter?” 

“I could always just go back and get all the stuff”. 

“Is it not enough for you?” he showed him the three pieces of gold in his open palm. 

It was as if he could almost feel him licking his lips. The part of him, dark, often chastised, made him shake and quiver. His knees felt weak, somehow. This hunger in the thief’s eyes, almost akin to wonder, at the sight of gold, as if he had never seen so much before, it made him want to… dear Lord, no!

“To put such a price on mending the error of my ways” he laughed, staring right through him with those green eyes. Patton’s knees threatened to buckle for real.  “It isn’t very much, now, is it?” he leaned forward, and if Patton leaned as well maybe he could… what? Fall from this height for a pretty thief?

“What do you want, then?” 

That had been a first for Janus, Patton was certain. He didn’t quite get his reaction, but, picturing it again some days later he figured the thief was taken aback. 

“Uh… tha-that fancy coin bag of yours will do. Consider me a gentleman, I wouldn’t want to fleece you completely, the first time”. 

“Oh, I’m sure”. 

“Ha”, Janus stared at him in disbelief. 

Patton felt mortified. 

“I-I mean…” 

“Are you always this eloquent or is it just poor skill when it comes to existing?” the sentence did not sound as condescending as it should have, more like borderline flirtatious. 

Words would not come to him. 

“The coin bag, please”. 

His arm moved on his own, careful to avoid touch. It would be a bad idea to give this man a chance to tip him over the ledge. For a moment, he hesitated. This bag had been gifted to him by his father, he had two made for the two of them. It was two of a kind. But… the woman next door’s wellbeing was far more valuable than any piece of fabric. No matter how treasured. 

Janus dangled the bag from his pointer finger, right next to his face. Side-eying his price, he spoke again: 

“Looks like the virtuous are also the most stupid”. 

The thief readied himself to jump. Patton knew he had to say something, because, this moment, it told him he would regret it if he didn’t. 

“It is not about virtue, but goodness”. 

For a moment he thought he had heard him stop breathing. Then, he jumped. Patton jumped in his place as well. He couldn’t help but bring his entire torso out of the window. 

There he was! Running. He had made no noise in his landing. 

Just when he was about to disappear into the shadows, this weird new acquaintance looked at him one last time. 

Back then, Janus vanished for a while. Patton had come to learn that he would always return one way or another. 

Like now. 

A shadow moved, carefully, on the roof tiles at the other side of the street. Patton whistled, trying not to be too loud, not that anyone below would hear him. Knowing it had been spotted, the shadow flew to his side. 

“Hello, big guy”. 

After a rustle of feathers, the hawk landed at his left. 

“Why the grumpy face?” Patton laughed. “I know it’s just your brow feathers.  You’re so handsome” he caressed the top of the bird’s head with one finger. 

“He sent you all the way here. You must be tired. I don’t have any food for you here, but I’m sure I can get you something to drink”. 

Patton poured some water into a basin and carried it to the window, he placed it on the floor. 

“There, it’s supposed to be used to wash your face… I guess you can do that too if you want”.  

The hawk flew inside and drank it all dry. 

“You ought to tell Janus”, he began saying as he bent his knees, “to stop worrying so much. I am okay. I know he is concerned, but it will all be fine. Also, when you get home, ask him when is he going to let me visit, I’d love to go”.

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

The carriage clattered over the stone pathway. Inside, the curtains were drawn, but a pang of curiosity made it so Patton moved them, ever-so-slightly, aside to take a discrete look. 

Big was an understatement when one tried to describe the Regio manor. It was a three-storey building comprised of a first floor with a rusticated facade that had four small windows on each side, the centre being interrupted by a wide mason staircase presided by a classic structure of pilasters, then followed by an entablature and a pediment with the most ornate of tympanums. He imagined the staircase lead to the primo piano nobile. To both sides of the main entrance were two sets of four architrave windows built in perfect symmetry. Above it all, was the third floor, which mostly mirrored the second, but had a total of ten slightly smaller windows, as there wasn’t another central element to interrupt their flow. 

If this marriage agreement moved forward, one day, this would be technically his. It will be his wife’s, but, as spouses, they are supposed to share it all. Villa Morandi will be hers as well, it was only fair. 

A part of him felt bad for not having had the chance to keep contact with Lady Romina Regio previous to now. How was one supposed to feel when they get no say in who they marry? Father, at least, had asked him. Yes, he risked disappointing him, but, ultimately, the choice was his.  Will this woman, on the account of her status, be allowed such a choice? He feared her parents were the only people who would decide. Father too. Does she even want the father of her fiancé to take this from her? Is it right to deceive themselves like this, to have God bind them when no love is to arise from this union? Is a potential friendship worthy of the sacrament of matrimony? 

Patton knew two things with certainty: he wanted to be a good friend to Lady Romina Regio and he could not sacrifice his feelings for Janus to achieve it. 

They were guided inside by Virginia Fusco, Lady Romina Regio’s personal servant.

The entrance consisted of a corridor, divided into three naves, by two rows of ionic columns made of rose gold marble. Above that, there was a straight ceiling with five rows of twelve coffers, all richly painted with floral and geometric motifs. His boots looked cheap in comparison to the flooring they walked on. Big and polished terracotta tiles in a diamond pattern covered the ground, the corners were clipped to accommodate small white marble accents. 

Once they passed the entrance, this father was led upstairs by another servant, while Virginia instructed him to accompany her elsewhere. 

“I am glad you arrived here safely after leaving Villa Morandi. Has everything been well?”

She stilled for a moment. 

“Uuh… thank you for the kind concern, sir. Things in the house have been… busy due to the news of your engagement to her ladyship” she began walking again. 

“I was asking about you”. 

“Pardon?”

“When I asked, before, I wanted to know if you have been doing well. It must be stressful to be sent back and forth between the palazzo and Villa Morandi during the last weeks, especially being a personal maid to her ladyship, it is uncommon for someone like you to be used as a messenger”. 

“I shall do anything her ladyship requires. Any task”. 

“Oh! Sorry! I did not intend to say you would not”, Patton stopped dead in his tracks. 

Virginia turned around and stared at him in confusion. 

“I… when you first arrived I did not expect her ladyship’s personal servant to be at my home. Her ladyship’s maid is supposed to stay with her, so I thought something bad might have happened… The trip in between is not too long but done enough times it can prove to be energy-consuming”. 

Patton was met with even more confusion from Virginia, so he kept babbling in hopes of fixing his mistake. “Not that you would not be willing to put up with it for her ladyship, I am sure. I did also not mean to assume anything, that is why I asked in the first place, I only meant it kindly…” 

“Sir, it is alright”, she began saying. 

If Patton had not been as worked up with the conversation as he was he may have detected the slightest hint of amusement coming from Virginia. 

“Her ladyship is--”

“Oh! Oh, that too! I did not mean to not inquire about her ladyship’s wellbeing, part of me dared to hope I could meet her today and ask her in person…” 

“Sir, please, follow me. I am afraid we cannot keep the person I am taking you to waiting, you see, her ladyship finds it upsetting”. 

Patton laughed. 

It caught Virginia off guard. People were not supposed to behave so… openly within these walls. At least she wasn’t used to it. 

“You must excuse this man’s oblivious nature, I should have realised where you were taking me earlier”. 

“Sir, I am undeserving of your apologies. But, if we keep stalling, her ladyship will require one”. 

“Of course, lead the way”.

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

His horse reached the palazzo just in time to see the Morandi’s carriage passing by. 

Unlike his dear Patton, he did not have an invitation. Sneaking past the guards, an easy task if you asked him, had to suffice. 

The place was huge, it was to be expected from such a family. Janus couldn’t care less for the grandeur, not when he couldn’t get his hands on it, and that wasn’t the reason why he had come there. 

It would seem the Regio had it going on. The palazzo was relatively new, built, at most, fifty years ago. If you checked the list, all of the items relating to appearance did justice to the status of the family. Looking closely though… 

There were only two boys and an old man tending to the gardens. Gardens as big as everything else, mind you. So, clearly, they were understaffed. Which was precisely why Janus had been able to hide between a set of unkempt bushes to change into today’s costume. As long as he managed to avoid getting any leaves of brunches stuck, it would all be fine. 

Back to the Regio, though. If one was as much of an expert at judging other people’s wealth as Janus was, save that one time with a woman at an inn, it became obvious that the counts were missing on the money. Firstly, the manor had been built recently, but most certainly not after the war. Secondly, the guards were as many as one would expect, but not as… on guard -curse Patton’s sense of humour- as they should. This just told him they weren’t being paid that much. Then was the matter of understaffing. 

And, of course, Patton’s presence here. 

Janus had not forgotten Signor Morandi’s words. Patton could only afford to marry a countess because the Regio could not afford anyone less wealthy. 

The clothes were on and he was inside the house. 

Why did these people never put any sort of vigilance at the servant’s entrances? It never occurred to them that even if people wouldn’t steal their laundry, perhaps they would get in with the laundry. Pathetic. 

It made his life easier, though. 

He was in. 

He was in and he was going to… what? 

For starters try to find any dirt on Patton’s dear future wife. Maybe any belongings that could give him some leverage. Just to be safe. 

Janus knew Patton would keep his word, even if it destroyed him, and it would. Nobles always wanted offspring. Janus just wasn’t sure if Patton would be up for the task when someone did not have his pretty eyes and his masculine figure. 

Causing troubles for his beloved was the last thing he wanted. But, if it came to it, Janus would do anything. Whether that meant creating accidents, blackmailing or appointing a convenient kidnapping during a wedding night. 

He went up the servant’s stairs and reached a second-floor gallery, open to the courtyard below. 

Just when he was about to leave, his ears caught some hushed shouting coming from above.

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

“How could she do this to me!?” 

Romina stormed the third-floor corridor, without any bearing nor destination. 

“Your ladyship, please, we must go back!” Virginia ran behind her, speaking between her teeth. 

“Did you see him, Virg?”

“Yes, I did, your ladyship”. 

“I-- this is outrageous!” 

“I beg you, can we not have this conversation here, your ladyship?” 

Despite Virginia kindly pointing out that the third-floor gallery was hardly an appropriate location for such or any kind of discussion, Romina did not heed her request. 

“I was going to become a princess! And because of this, I am deprived of royalty! Because my sister fancies herself a man!” 

“For the love of…, you know what, no. I am tired of this. She dresses like a man, she talks like a man, she looks like a man and she feels like one. In which way is she, no, he, not a man?” 

Romina grimaced at her own words. Still, she was far too angry to let go of her resentment. 

“In the fact that he has no honour. He lied to me, several times. First by promising we’ll stay together. Then he did not care to tell me I had a brother, didn’t even trust me for that, and now he has abandoned me. And what for? He saw that pretty ‘scientist’ or whatever he calls himself and decided to follow him to the end of the world. How come he gets to be a pirate when I have to become a wife?!”

“Romina, please, shut your big mouth before anyone overhears us” Virginia warned. 

“So now I must be quiet!”

“Yes! For your sake, you dumbass”. 

“Well, I will not be quiet, you… you sonnetist of elegies!” 

“That’s not even a--” Virginia placed her hand on the bridge of her nose. 

As if to make her point clearer, Romina kept walking into the gallery. 

“I don’t care! You know why? Because now I have to replace him in a destiny none of us wanted, but at least he had been prepared for! What am I going to do?” 

“How about you begin by coming back--” 

“He leaves me like this, to be mocked and compared to him,--” 

“Oh Lord, why do I even bother--”

“--who ran away. How could he be so selfish!? Let me ask you this instead, how can a man surrender his word and his honour so readily?”

Then, Virginia stilled completely. 

She didn’t know whether she felt angry or deeply saddened.

“What wouldn’t any of us do to seize the freedom that we have forever been denied? And, who wouldn’t cast away honour to be free and loved? Can’t you identify with that, or are you a liar too?”

“I…”

“Is it Remus who you’re angry at?” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I am still going to have to get married to some random person--!”

“Oh, shut up! At least he’s nice! Do you know what he did when he met me? Because he came to personally receive me, you see. He asked for my name! Not only that, but he remembers it. Just when I was taking him to see you, he asked me how had I been! Have you any idea how many people do that? You are so privileged you cannot get your head out of your stuck-up ass, Princess. Nobody ever cares how people like me are doing!” 

“Oh, so that is what this is about! Well, sorry I can’t pepper you with attention every waking moment, love--” 

“Fuck off, I already know that, stop making this about you!” 

“But it is about me!”

“You’re so lucky you get to marry a kind man! Any other person would just use his status to be a self-righteous narcissistic asshole, yes, Princess, like you, but not young Signor Morandi so quit mopping!” 

“Well, if you like him so much, then why don’t you marry him instead?!” 

Her hands gripped her apron tightly. Virginia could not bear her gaze at the moment. She bit her lip as if that could help her to cope with the backlash at the sheer stupidity of Romina’s words. 

“I am sorry”. 

“You… at least you’re… hmm…” she took a deep breath. In part to give herself time to consider what to say carefully, but, also, to calm down. “Male-inclined. I… your ladyship, if I did not serve you I fear I would only be any good left in a nunnery. You must understand, if I could choose who to marry, well, kind and considerate is not much of my type, as you must be aware. Neither is Signor Morandi”. 

“If…” 

Romina returned to her side. 

Her hands, littered with all sorts of rings, made Virginia’s hands give up on holding the apron. The labour-stained pair were squeezed safely. 

“Please, please look at me”. 

The request made Virginia want to refuse. But, aside from her position, these were the kind of situations in which Virginia could not deny Romina. 

“If I could choose who to marry, it would be one who would make me a princess, not on the account of status, but with word… if you know what I mean”. 

Virginia rolled her eyes. 

“The only one that dense here is you”. 

“The mouth on you. I am going to have to keep you by my side”, she paused for a second and then whispered, “my love”. 

Her gaze was most intense upon hearing that. The pair of dark brown eyes opening in a way that could be described as feline. 

“No nunnery could be at your level when it comes to sarcasm and bossing other women around. I, at the very least, can hold my ground for longer until you get me to do your bid--”

Finally, Romina was quiet. 

Virginia gripped her shoulders, squeezing the puffs of her dress’ sleeves, with the tips of her fingers touching against the golden netting that covered Romina’s chest. It was as if she was trying to drink the life out of those lips. Her very being was buzzing with want and anger. 

The bejewelled woman became pliant, yet passionate, under the touch. Bravery, whenever it surfaced in Virginia, was something to behold. Even more of a thing to experience. 

“Fuck” Virginia covered her mouth with her hands as she abruptly parted. 

“Likewise. Oh, I feel dizzy” she smiled. 

“No, not that way. I… shit… I just did...that! And here!”

“Now, now”, Romina grasped her hands. 

She caressed the base of Virginia’s thumbs with a devoted look. 

“Ro…”

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that” a voice came from the other side of the gallery.

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

The room was quiet. 

No. 

The room was completely silent and Patton had no idea what had gone wrong. He never intended to say something that could harm anyone’s sensitivities. It just never occurred to him that someone could be offended by a pun about the weather. 

This first attempt at friendship had not been… great. 

His father would certainly laugh at Lady Romina Regio’s decision to storm out of the room upon hearing a silly joke. He would make nothing of it. He’d say womanly outbursts were to be expected. Darn it, most people would say so.

Ignoring it would be simple. 

Patton could not ignore it. 

Firstly, it became clear to him that her ladyship had no say in her marrying him. Not only that, but she might feel strongly against it. Secondly, and most important, he intended to build a friendship with her. 

Considering the circumstances, the best he could do would be to find her and speak from the heart. If he explained to her that he meant no ill by making a joke, or to be insensitive by indulging in frivolities in the face of such a serious matter as their first meeting, she might feel better. And, if she still refused him, he could offer to call the entire thing off. 

Except that would be a terrible idea. Her family needed the money and going back on his choice would make her chances even more difficult. But, maybe, she wanted that. Her reaction pointed to it. Father would be very disappointed, the last thing Patton wanted was to be a bad son. But wasn’t it worse to force a woman into a marriage? Also, Janus. He’d be free to remain with him for longer. 

What was he going to do? He didn’t know what the right answer to this was.  

Talking to her. Patton could start by doing that, but first, he needed to find her.

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

This wasn’t the kind of dirt he had expected to find, but only a moron would look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

The servant girl’s passion came out of nowhere. He almost wanted to take notes. 

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”, said the countess, still entranced at the sight of her maid’s hands. 

She had just given him his cue, so Janus could not help but oblige. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, he said leaving his hiding spot. 

Instantly, they turned to look at him. The countess let go of the other’s hands in a jolt. Her demeanour changed in a second. So, not only was she a countess, but also a terrific actress. 

“Oh! Good day sir! Are you, by any chance, lost? My servant can…” she looked at the aforementioned. 

Her maid was having none of it. She eyed him suspiciously, ignoring how her mistress’ body language asked her to calm down. 

“Were you coming to see his lordship? I am afraid he is busy at the moment”. 

“Oh, well yes. I was sent by Marquess Sanders to inquire about a series of matters relating to war expenses” he said as he took off his cape. 

By revealing his outfit he hoped to gain some credibility. Looking rich always got people off your back. Especially when you carried a sword. 

The countess’ eyes lit up in recognition of his dusack. Dusacks were one of the main weapons sent by Marquess Sanders during the war, this one so happened to also have the family crest attached to the scabbard. 

Normally, he would have covered it to avoid getting Thomas into trouble. 

“Well, in that case--” Romina began to say. 

“Excuse me, sir, but I am sure her ladyship would first like to see the letters that his lordship always has his people carry”. 

“Is your maid often allowed to talk over you, your ladyship?” 

“I...uh…” Romina looked at her maid for help. 

“Well, that is to be expected, as she is allowed to do much more than that, is she not?” 

The maid squinted at him. 

“Oh, that thing? It was a… a token of friendship!” the countess proudly proclaimed. 

While she may be a fantastic actress, she surely was a terrible liar. The maid scoffed in the way Janus could not, whether it was due to hearing her lover say something that ridiculous or because of the awful lie he could not tell. 

“If that is how I treated all my friends I am certain my lovers would be confused”. 

Both women caught their breaths. 

“I would, of course, not be so indiscreet as to say anything, for a price, that is”. 

“What is it that you want?” 

“I’ve heard you are soon to be married--” 

The maid looked at him even more intensely, and then…

“Your ladyship, this man is deceiving you”. 

“Yeah, I can tell, we were just discussing--”

“You dense ass, not now, all the time! His money bag over there, it’s Signor Morandi’s!” 

Oh, fuck. 

Well, it couldn’t be helped. 

Janus unsheathed his sword and pointed it to the maid’s neck. 

“I suggest we keep this matter quiet, or else I’ll have to keep it quiet forever”.

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

Patton’s efforts to find Lady Romina Regio or her servant, Virginia, had not been successful so far. He had explored the main areas of the house, now finding himself at the first-floor courtyard. 

The smells coming from the kitchen, where the staff worked in their earnest to prepare tonight’s dinner, danced in the air. Patton sat at a stone bench, wondering what else he could do. His only chance would be waiting until both families dined together. He’d wish to apologise to her ladyship before that, so they could indulge in the dishes without any looming over. 

Then, the faint sound of a voice coming from above called his attention. 

It was barely hearable due to the clankings of nearby cooking. But there was no way he wouldn’t recognise it. 

“I would... be so indiscreet … price...” Patton could make out. 

Indeed, it was Janus’ voice. If that and the words ‘indiscreet’ and ‘price’ were anything to go by, he was blackmailing someone. 

Her ladyship was nowhere to be found and Janus was being Janus nearby. It didn’t take too much to put two and two together. 

Patton moved around the courtyard while staring upwards. 

There they were! He only had to find a way to…

Oh no. 

Janus was pointing his sword to Virginia’s neck. 

Before Patton could realise what he was doing, his feet were already running upstairs.

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

This would have been a great time for both of them to bail, hadn’t a sword been pointed at her. But, that's life. Some days you wake up next to your lover in her chambers with a deep feeling of dread over, well, everything; other days you are about to get basically beheaded, what can you do. 

For starters, Virginia was going to fight, because she didn’t feel particularly inspired to think at the moment. 

“Please, do not hurt her, I beg you”, Romina said. 

Wonderful. Virginia was either about to get hurt or be very lucky on her own accord. 

She quickly leaned back and ducked, taking advantage of the man’s attention being redirected at Romina’s plea. 

Definitely, she was getting hurt, not lucky, as the sword fell down on her with a swift swoop. 

That was it. 

Then, Romina pulled another sword from the pocket opening of her dress, crossing blades with the thief, but, most importantly, saving her life. She was going to be really cocky about it, if they made it out in one piece. 

“Well, this was a lovely surprise”, the thief said as Romina and he circled each other, edges sliding in a sharp sound, “but if you don’t give it up, you’ll end up maimed and, after that, let’s say… your maid may take a nudge downstairs”. 

Romina slid the sword away and twirled it back to strike. The thief had enough reflexes to put his dusack across his face before it got cut in half. 

A strong clank echoed all over the gallery and the courtyard below. 

“You foul fiend! You may be brave enough to threaten me, but your overconfidence in thinking you can get away--” she struck again, “with endangering her--” Romina turned them, making it so Virginia was behind her, as if to underline her words, “shall be your downfall”. 

“Thank you for enlightening me, your highness” the thief began to say. 

He overpowered Romina by twisting their swords. She collided against Virginia’s chest after the villain shoved her away. 

“This has, clearly, proved how friendly you are. By all means, tell me, are you also willing to die for all of your friends?” 

His next move was more successful now that he had gained more range of attack. The thief plunged forward in a piercing motion. Romina stopped it with a backhanded sweep, then turned on herself, making it so his blade pointed to the ground. 

“I would die for her, any day”. 

Virginia did not have the right to feel as flustered as she did, not when they were in mortal danger. Somehow, Romina’s best romantic lines happened whenever she did not speak them directly to her. Seeing her look that fierce when fighting may also factor into it. Why did Princess always have to be so intense?

“Is this a confession? Scandalous!” 

“It is a promise”. 

There was a delicate balance between each other for a moment. Their eyes locked in a stare. 

It was so strange, Virginia thought. This man keeps on threatening them, but he hesitates. What was holding him back? Also, why steal a coin bag when you plan on blackmailing someone? Yes, it had to be planned, otherwise, the marquess lie made no sense, too much preparation involved for that to be a coincidence. Could he actually be sent by the marquess? But, why? The Regio and the marquess had had a wonderful relationship over the years. 

Something didn’t fit. 

The thief moved ever so slightly. Romina, clearly, wasn’t taking any chances.

In a display of quick reflexes, she side-kicked him on the chest, making him stumble backwards. 

While the thief struggled to regain his footing, Romina sliced through the cord keeping Signor Morandi’s coin bag attached to his waist. She smiled playfully. 

“For someone so smug, you are surely a clumsy opponent”. 

“I’ll give you clumsy” he replied stepping forward and thrusting with the sword. 

Romina blocked his attack effortlessly, but, soon, Virginia realised that wasn’t the thief’s intention. His right foot was just in front of the bag, ready to move it towards him like a hook. 

“Ro, the bag!” Virginia warned. 

She looked down and smirked. 

“This the price of greed”, Romina mocked as her sword turned to strike the thief’s right leg. 

The dusack crossed blades, again, with Romina’s before it could do any damage. 

“Your willingness to lose a leg over some gold only proves the worth of your lot”.  

He leaned closer to Romina, looking at her in the eye as he twisted their swords to get the upper hand. 

“You know nothing about me or what I stand for”, he said in a deep and menacing voice. 

Romina laughed in between her teeth. 

“I may not, but I know one thing”. 

“Oh, and what is that?”

“You just got distracted”. 

Romina’s foot slipped past the thief’s, kicking the coin bag away from him. He ran to his left while blocking Romina’s attacks at his right. 

What was so special about a coin bag anyway?

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

Patton began to hear sword fighting noises just before he reached the entrance to the stairs. 

What was Janus thinking? Engaging in a face-off with Lady Romina Regio, who not only was a countess with an apparent disdain for weather puns but also a remarkable swordswoman, had to be one of his worst ideas to date. 

While he had faith in Janus’ skills, he also knew that her ladyship’s fencing instructor had been fired, as a lesson, after she stabbed a man on the shoulder during a ‘casual’ duel.

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

The coin bag was kicked and pushed from one place to another by the thief and Romina while they dodged attacks.

“Is it the gold you are fighting for or is it your pride, villain?” she said, smirk reflecting on her blade. 

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to project your desires onto others? So honourable protecting her frail maiden!”, he pushed forward. “Still… it would almost seem, not because of the self-indulging banter, that you only duel to flatter yourself”.

“The one who is so set in getting a stolen coin bag dares to lecture me on selfishness!” 

Romina used her weight to stop him from making her retrocede any further. Her grin widened, satisfied in this victory. 

“Takes one egoist to know one”.

Right then, the thief made a sudden move. 

“Romina!” Virginia exclaimed. 

“I’m fine!” she said, wiping the bleeding cut on her jaw. 

The thief looked at the prized coin bag that he now held in his hand. 

“Loved beating you, but I think I will take my lea--” 

He was interrupted by Romina’s scream. Her sword wooshed several times in front of his face, barely leaving him time to bend backwards to avoid it. The dusack clancked against the floor. 

“Shit” the thief cursed. 

Things looked dire for the thief. With his sword out of reach, there was little he could do. Romina’s sword flashed by one more time, slashing through his left upper arm. Despite the painful burn of the cut, his left hand did not let go of the coin bag. Nevertheless, he fell on his knee, clutching the wound with his free hand. 

“I will make you an offering, villain”, Romina pointed at him with the sword, gloating over his tilted gaze. “Return Signor Morandi’s coin bag to me, and I shall let you go”. 

“Your ladyship, kindly get stabbed in the chest”. 

She turned his back on him, twirling her sword while at it. 

“As you wish”. 

Time froze before Romina could even think about delivering the killing blow. 

Virginia saw the thief reach for his boot, pulling out a stiletto. He stood up and positioned his knife pointing upwards. Because of this, Virginia panicked, already imagining the tip breaking through Romina’s lower back and into her chest. 

Immediately, she ran in front of the thief, head empty of thoughts, only consuming fear. At the same time, the thief began a descending motion, making Virginia realise where he aimed for. 

‘He’s going for her leg!’, Virginia thought. 

This would not help. When they crossed, the thief’s knife was at the height of Virginia’s gut. 

Virginia looked at him in terror. 

The thief looked at Virginia in panic. 

The fabrics of Romina’s dress could be heard twisting in the air, as she turned around, only to see the back of Virginia’s head. 

“No!” Romina cried. 

In yet another display of quick reflexes, the thief let go of the stiletto, just before it could do any damage. 

Romina only heard the blade fall as she shoved Virginia aside. 

She punched him on the left cheek, leaving the outline of her rings imprinted on his skin, red and slowly swelling. 

The thief’s boots staggered backwards. 

He fell face up in the middle of the gallery corridor. 

Faster than ever, Romina’s sword moved and settled its tip at the base of the thief’s neck, sort of mirroring how he had threatened Virginia. 

Virginia brazed herself against the wall. Her breathing heaved like the bellows trying to get the fire back up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw young Signor Morandi emerging from the path that connected to one of the third-floor staircases. 

“Please, do not hurt him, I beg you”, he said while catching his breath. 

Romina looked upwards to stare at him. 

“What is the meaning of this?! Do you know this man? Did you send him?!”

Sometimes, Romina could outmatch Virginia when it came to reaching conclusions. This just so happened to be the worst possible moment. 

“I--” 

Only Virginia saw how the eyes of the thief went wide at hearing young Signor Morandi’s voice, his frown when Romina accused him. 

“Look at me!” the thief shouted. 

“Trying to protect your master, villain?” 

“That is not quite… this is a complete misunderstanding, if we talked--” young Signor Morandi began to say. 

“Shut up!” both Romina and the thief replied in unison. 

“Stop talking nonsense, your highness”. 

“Oh, so it is nonsense! He seems to know you, how do you explain that?” 

Virginia squinted at them, getting the sense that she was missing something more than ever. 

“Janus, please, let me tell them the--” 

“We now have a name for our thief!” she announced triumphantly. “So you do know each other! Let me tell you, Jolliest Caesar, he has betrayed you. Whatever you paid him seemed to be less than enough, so he stole your father’s coin bag”. 

Young Signor Morandi’s eyes went straight to said item, lighting up in recognition and some other emotion much harder to identify. 

“Is this the outcome you desired? I thought you were silly, I was... persuaded to believe you were kind. But, this? Do you owe your father so much disrespect?” 

He grimaced in response, looking away. Meanwhile, Janus pursed his lips in a thin line. 

‘Why does it matter to him?’, Virginia wondered. 

“Signor Morandi is an upright man, someone who carries himself proud and virtuous. I will not insult him by denouncing you to my family, but I hope you learn to have--” 

“Oh, poor and noble Signor Morandi! Rid of a coin bag, whatever will he do?!” Janus shouted.  

The gazes of all people present turned to him.

“It’s not as if he could buy another. Are we to pity him?! He is so good! You defend what you think to be the property of a man who would gladly pull any pair of lovers apart. Gift his son to a stack of classist swine in exchange for a title! What an estimate of his worth!”

One could almost marvel at him having the nerve to spit his anger even under the point of a blade. Romina frowned, taken aback.  

“But he’s so upright! Admit it, you couldn’t care any less about this ridiculous coin bag, you just want to use it as an excuse to keep your affair with your servant hidden. Am I the one you wish to kill or does it make you feel less powerless to pretend you’re stabbing another man? None of us gets a choice”.

Young Signor Morandi held his breath. 

Virginia let hers out. That was it! Of course! How could she not have realized earlier?

“Spilling my blood won’t change that! I may not be good, but I can at least see through the lies, and you aren’t good either. You’re as selfish as I am and you won’t get to keep her, we never do”. 

“What?” Romina answered. 

She looked at Virginia, then at young Signor Morandi, then back at him. 

“Are you seriously doing this? I could make these your last words! What is wrong with you! This is madness. I am about to die” she began to mock him, “let me make this moment into a speech about society and another man’s stolen money. Who does that? I know I am dramatic, but, at the very least--!” 

“Princess, shut up!” Virginia shouted. 

“Excuse me, I was only trying to give some fair critic--”

“Not the time. Also, you are completely missing the point! 

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know how we always talk after dinner?” 

“That is not what we do after…”

“Yes”. 

“So what is your point? Oooooh!” 

“Now you get it…” she closed her eyes. 

“They also talk…” Romina smiled.

“Hmm”. 

“And he is actually…!” she pointed back and forth between the two with her sword. “They are…!”

“We are, and if you would” Janus flattened himself against the floor. 

“Your ladyship, please, my Janus has had enough of sharp objects for…” young Signor Morandi looked at him. 

“For forever, put the sword away”. 

Romina did as requested and promptly offered a hand to help Janus get on his feet. 

“You are one menace of a woman”. 

“Thank you”. 

“What is going on?!” 

A large set of rushed footsteps accompanied the question. The four turned around to see his lordship, Count Regio, his wife, Signor Morandi and a myriad of servants. 

“Oh, father, mother!” Romina exclaimed. “Signor Morandi”, she greeted more formally. 

“Romina, what is the meaning of this?” said Count Regio. 

“Your lordship, your ladyship”, Janus spoke after a bow. “I was sent by Marquess Sanders”. 

Romina turned to look at him. His attire was mostly back in place, a part of her couldn’t help but be impressed. After spotting the family crest on Janus’ dusack, the counts’ expression changed from confusion to shame. 

“Romina, did you duel this man? Apologise this instant!” Count Regio looked livid as he spoke. “We already had to be rid of her fencing teacher, do not worry, Signor Morandi, we will also dispose of her swords”, Countess Regio reassured. 

In the scandal, Virginia was the only one to notice the coin bag forgotten on the floor. She stepped to the side, knowing no one would pay attention to her, as per usual, especially with such chaos. The coin bag disappeared under Virginia’s skirts, dragged by her foot. Young Signor Morandi walked past her and nodded in a silent gesture of gratitude. Perhaps one person did notice. 

“Your ladyship, that will not be necessary, I come as a new fencing teacher, an early engagement present of Marquess Sanders”. 

“But how did he know…” Virginia muttered. 

Janus did hear her and went on: 

“He was very impressed by the letters sent by your daughter. Marquess Sanders believes that someone with such impeccable diplomacy, and a disposition to secure the future relationship of her family, should not be deprived of outstandingness. To preserve such remarkable, dare I say, rare, qualities on a lady, he sent me. Marquess Sanders hopes my instruction can further her skills and aid her to grow more accomplished than ever before”. 

“Oh, that is fantastic to hear!” Count Regio said, looking a lot more uncomfortable than her tone would suggest. “But, Lady Romina, as you already are aware of, is engaged now. We ought to hear young Signor Morandi’s opinion on the matter”.

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

All eyes turned to Patton. 

“Actually…” 

For a moment, he doubted himself. 

Lying, as he had always been told, was sinful. But so was ignoring the struggle of the weak, breaking your word and not honouring one’s spouse. 

Most importantly, Patton had to honour his heart. 

If lying was the price to pay… well, so be it. 

“I asked her for a demonstration. I have always harboured a burning admiration for her dexterity with the sword. Her ladyship is truly heroic and radiant when duelling”. 

Romina turned to look at him.

It would seem he had managed to become friends with her after all.  

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

The moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. This was, once again, a clear summer evening, but it marked the end of an insane day. The sounds of dining and chatting had died out. Everyone, gradually, left for their rooms. Janus, crossing the gardens, intended to do the same. 

Climbing with a wounded arm made his ascend harder than usual. Luckily, the ostentatious facade of the palazzo gave him countless points to anchor himself to. Slowly but surely, he got to Patton’s open window. 

 As what felt like always, Patton held him by the lapels of his cape and pulled him inside. 

Rather than saying hello, Patton kissed him. It was gentle, devoid of the despair that had marked all their meetings during the last weeks. Patton pulled apart just as softly. 

“Here”. 

Janus stared at the coin bag in his hand and smirked. 

“Dear, if you keep on offering me your money you’ll turn into the worst noble ever, and I, the worst thief”, he said with no real smugness. 

Patton laughed. 

“Virginia retrieved it when nobody looked”. 

“I’ll remember to thank her”. 

“Please, be nice this time”. 

“You saw that?” 

“Yes. Janus, pointing at someone with… that thing… don’t do it again”. 

Janus shrugged and leaned in to kiss him again. A pair of hands pulled on his cape, that fell on the floor, forgotten. 

“I don’t think” Janus half-laughed, “I could get away with it again”. 

His bandages were fresh. The bleeding had stopped, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Patton stared at it and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I could have lost you today”. 

“You saved me again”. 

“Well, that isn’t entirely true”. 

“Oh, why would that be?” 

“You managed to stand your ground until I could save you”. 

“Call it good timing”. 

Patton smiled. 

“What’s so funny?” Janus smiled as well. 

“I’m happy. We… we are going to be together after this. I even gained two friends”. 

“You keep meeting the strangest people, dear”. 

“I’ll have to make sure that you kids don’t get hurt”. 

“We’ll try to be in our best behaviour”. 

Patton got closer and whispered:

“Liar”. 

Janus swallowed and stared at him, suddenly feeling defeated, yet happy about it. He loosened his belt, letting it fall to the floor with his dusack. 

It made an awful lot of noise. Patton looked down, almost in disbelief at Janus’ newfound capacity to make a sound. 

“Hmm. Where did you really get that sword? Romina could get in serious trouble if…”

“Don’t worry, Thomas won’t mind covering for me”. 

“Thomas? You know the marquess?” 

“Let us sit on the bed, I think that you deserve to know this secret”. 

Both of them got comfortable on the ridiculous wall of pillows placed against the headboard of the canopy bed. 

“I used to work for the Sanders family. Ever since I was a boy, I tended to the horses, which is how Thomas and I became friends in the first place. As we grew, he decided to make me his personal servant, and, aside from learning to lie as easy as speaking, I also learned I hate rich people. Thomas is okay though. I think you and Thomas are the only rich people I tolerate”. 

“Well, that’s rich”. 

“Patton! I’m telling you my tragic story!” he said, not at all bothered. “Anyhow, I decided that wasn’t for me, so I told Thomas. He was sad, but he respected it. Before I left, he gave me his own sword, I guess as a safe-conduct of sorts, maybe to remind me I could always come back”. 

“That is… a lot”. 

“I know. He’s a good friend. Believe it or not, I’ve never used it until today. I… couldn’t let you get caught in any of my… shall we say, activities, so I figured…” 

Patton grabbed him, mindful of his wounds, and pulled him close. 

“You need to let other people in, Janus. I know I’m kind of silly, but I can still help. I wish you could see that when you let people know you they want to be on your side. You are someone worth knowing”. 

“And you are more of a bastard than people give you credit for”. 

His laughter made them shake a little. Janus stared at Patton’s joyful expression feeling satisfied. 

“I guess I am”. 

“Pity you don’t want to do anything wicked with it”. 

“I’ll leave that to you, just, tell me beforehand”. 

“How else would I be saved last minute, dear?” 

They stared at each other for a while. It hadn’t fully hit Janus until now that this, this thing right now, would be his life from now on. Thinking that, perhaps the world wasn’t as cruel as he had always made it to be. 

“You are so good”. 

Patton kissed him again. 

“Only when nobody’s looking”. 

“Jan, name’s Patton, not nobody”. 

“You think you’re so funny”. 

“Am I not, when I make you smile like this?”

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

Taglist: @joylessnightsky , (the following interacted with my tagging request post, so I assumed you wanted to be tagged, if not, please tell me) @jerasings , @daemoade , @grandhairdofarmgoop . 

[a-student-out-of-time]

Kyoji having dealt with Storm for a while and hearing about Junko, is there any differences between the two? Because frankly, I'm struggling to find differences aside from Junko having a actual goal rather then Storm's 'For the Evilz'- Review Anon

Well, I’ve never met Enoshima, so I can’t say for certain. Based on what you’ve all said about her, she basically gets off on causing despair to herself and others, right? The whole reason she caused the Tragedy was just because she wanted to “paint the world with despair.”

Based on that description, it almost sounds like she feels guilty and miserable about what she does, but still revels in it. I wouldn’t say Storm is like that. He’s more...hmm...

Okay, do you know what thrill killing is? When someone commits murder just for the excitement? That’s sort of what Storm does; he inflicts random suffering for his own amusement, but never to himself. He’d never jump at the chance to cause himself misery. On the contrary, he runs from danger at the first opportunity.

The man isn’t one for enduring pain or despair. In fact, under his cool charmer façade, he’s a petty, childish coward. He doesn’t like losing and he’d never set up his plans just for them to fail. He’ll lash out if he feels like people he expects to be subordinate to him retaliate, or at least act in a way that seems like retaliation to him.

It’s not like there aren’t parallels between them though. He’s manipulative, is good at seeing through people and it does sound like he’s trying to build a cult, but in her place he wouldn’t be interested in completely destroying the world just for the hell of it. Even he has his limits.

And...well, I know I played up his vile nature, but I’ll admit that there was some genuine affection between him and Chikatilo-san at times. Not that I’d consider it a particularly good thing, just that the man is capable of some amount of care for others. If you looked at them outside of Hope’s Peak, you could’ve mistaken them for friends...maybe even a couple.

And I think that’s what disturbs me the most about him. I can’t tell if it’s act or if that’s genuine kindness and affection on his part. As erratic as Enoshima’s personality is, she’s ultimately consistent there; all aspects of her life ultimately revolve around despair. With Storm...I honestly don’t know sometimes.

And that’s just based on what I know about him from our time at Hope’s Peak. As for what may have changed during his time in Fuchu prison, I can only speculate at this point.

Though I’m sure we’ll learn more once we find his island.

[paintedrecs]

For the fandom talk meme thingy: C (not trying to start drama I swear), I, K, R, and X. =D

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

Hmmm, there are a few ways of answering this. One is by listing all my NOTPs, which would be excessively long and ultimately boring because it essentially boils down to “anyone else with either member of my OTP.” I monoship my primary pairings, so I’m pretty strict on what I do and do not like. 

(With the way fandom is now, I should clarify that NOTP means that I personally do not like a ship and I therefore go out of my way to avoid it - by muting terms, carefully filtering tags and search results, curating my own space, etc. It doesn’t mean I think the ship is badwrong or that anyone else should stop shipping it. It just means I do not ever want to see it.)

This feels a little less specific on that front, though, maybe more just: people like this and I’m meh about it?

So Allydia comes to mind. I don’t hate it, and if the Sterek’s good enough I’ll still read a fic with them as a background pairing, but I don’t ever like it as a romantic ship. While I ship Lydia with lots of different characters, including Cora, I’ve always seen Allison as straight, so I suppose that’s part of it? And I love Lydia & Allison as bffs - I see them as entirely platonic, like Scott & Stiles, so introducing romance just doesn’t work for me.

Another one is Sheriff Stilinski/Peter Hale. I...I don’t understand it. Unlike the last answer, this background pairing will prevent me from reading a Sterek-central fic.

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

This turned into a complicated and kind of roundabout answer, so I’m putting the rest of the questions under a long-post cut!

I stopped frequenting tumblr for two main reasons:

that whole weird purge thing that made me think everyone was leaving, so I just gave up, which might’ve been premature cause it seems like folks are still going strong on here

the emergence of antis, specifically within the Voltron fandom (although they’re everywhere at this point)

There’s a saying in fandom now: 

“Why is the younger fandom generation like this?!??” “Tumblr raised them.”

For me, for years, tumblr was a really wonderful space where I had a lot of great conversations and read very thoughtful threads that helped me to learn some important things about myself, other people, and a world much wider than my own.

But I was an adult when I joined this site, and it really does seem like there’s a whole new crop of kids who have no actual context for ideas like social justice, the need for canonical representation in our media, and a lot of other things that eventually got folded into a big ball of disconnected rhetoric that they now fling as hard as they can at the heads of fandom creators who are committing the ultimate sin of creating content for ships they don’t like.

It’s late, and I don’t feel like getting into a whole Essay Rant about all that.

So on an entirely personal level, I quit running appreciatejack (my Check Please/zimbits/Jack Zimmermann blog) because someone sent me really vile hate for daring to ship Shiro/Keith from Voltron (two unrelated adults in a cartoon). It’s why I turned my ask boxes/anon/chats off on most of my blogs, and then eventually just...got tired of running them.

When I started up appreciatederek, I got a couple asks from people who wanted to know if it was going to be multiship or just Sterek, and when I said it was Sterek, they presumably went off to find other things they were into, because I never heard from them again. Y’know, the reasonable reaction. And then the rest of it was wonderful: finding content for it, and getting responses from people who enjoyed that content.

I thought appreciateshiro would be similar, but it was all so messy from the very start. The Sheith tag was FULL of hate. I was initially checking it every day, trying to find artists and writers and gif-makers to reblog and encourage and support, like I’d done in Sterek fandom, but instead I’d spend literal hours blocking people who came into that tag just to talk about how much they hated the ship.

Every day, I’d look for content for my OTP, and every day I’d come away from it angry and sad and frustrated. I never seemed to run out of people to block. And they never, ever seemed to run out of hate.

It was exhausting. It made me reluctant to go on tumblr at all. And eventually I just...sorta stopped.

So the answer to this question is more, I guess, “fandom made me stop liking tumblr, and in the process I stopped liking most fandoms.”

I’m sure you can kinda tell from the fandoms I’m currently the most invested in.

I love Sterek, and I will always love Sterek. Part of that’s the ship itself, of course, and part is because I had an incredible fandom experience with it. People within this fandom are still really great - always so welcoming and super excited about new content, even so many years on.

Otherwise, my current fandoms are kiiiiinda tiny:

Xanatowen (Gargoyles), which currently consists of exactly 2 people and 12 fics (3 of which are mine).

Trevorcard (Castlevania), which only has ~200 fics on AO3.

Taibani (Tiger & Bunny), which is an oldish fandom with only ~600 fics on AO3.

Remember, I came from a fandom that has SIXTY THOUSAND fics.

So while I feel very lonely and very sad about the low content levels in these fandoms, they’ve also given me the space to let go of some of my fandom hurt & anger and remember what it’s like to just...peacefully love something. I really miss just loving things and talking about loving those things and searching for other people who also love those things without running into....thousands upon thousands of people who HATE that you love that thing.

(Until I wrote all that out just now, I actually hadn’t realized how much this had still been hanging over me, or why I was so hesitant to come back to “reclaim” a space I’d once been super active and happy in. Essay over! Next questions.)

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Answered here!

R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom?

Answered here! 

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

Found family. This is probably a big part of why Sterek was my first real fandom, because the idea of Pack makes it incredibly natural to build out relationships beyond just the central romantic pairing. 

It doesn’t have to be a werewolf thing, though. I’m honestly not hugely fond of the whole puppy piles concept - I’m less interested in “biological urges make characters literally physically all snuggle up together in bed” than I am in the actual build of the friendships, and the concept of choosing people who will become the family you’ve been missing for whatever reason.

Maybe it’s reconnecting with biological family, or maybe it’s discovering that your friends have been filling that space for you all along, without you even fully realizing it. (The concept of “home” is another big one for me. Home is where your heart is etc etc.)

And hey! Now I can pull back in another question from earlier: about “pairings” that I might not have initially considered. As I suspected, I do have more! Mostly platonic.

For instance: Derek and Sheriff Stilinski becoming bffs. I thiiiink I can probably tie my ABSOLUTE LOVE of this concept back to HalfFizzbin’s can't be hateful, gotta be grateful. And then Cupboard Love really has to be the source of ALL my alive!Hales feels, which also includes folding Stiles into their family.

Fic is largely responsible for building out Derek’s relationship with Boyd, Erica, Isaac, his sisters...making them into an actual pack and friends and family in the way the show never bothered. And frankly while I don’t like canon!Scott at all at this point, I love his friendship with Stiles in fics, and I absolutely believe Stiles and Lydia would be amazing friends once he got past his crush on her. I’d point to another fic here, owlpostagain’s will to follow through, as the ultimate source for major Team Human feels.

So yeah. I’m always going to be drawn to stories about family, in whatever form that takes, particularly if it’s one that’s a little bit off the normal white-picket-fence path.

In Tiger & Bunny, it’s Barnaby joining the Kaburagi family, and learning how to be a dad and a friend to his new husband’s daughter.

In Gargoyles, I’m completely obsessed with the (canonical!) idea of a family that consists of a man, his wife, their son, and the chaotically loyal fae babysitter/tutor/third parent. It is not a stretch to tweak this the tiiiiiiniest bit to turn it into a nontraditional family structure of a man, his wife, his son, and his fae boyfriend. Honestly.

In Castlevania, the fic that made me sob my eyes out at one point does something the show would absolutely never. It gives Alucard the time to rebuild his physical home while befriending the people in the little town that crops up around it. It’s about Trevor and Alucard falling in love, but it’s also about them making a place for themselves in a world where that kind of comfort and stability and friendship is so badly needed.

I think we all kinda need that in our world right now. So I love being able to find it in fic, for the characters who’ve grown to mean something to me.

[chvvva]

With each passing day, I become more and more aware of fandom dynamics and of what belonging to an organized subculture means. It’s no secret that fandom is a pretty old thing, but, and here’s the point of this introduction, though social network may have quickened and facilitated the process of people with the same interests from all over the world amazingly coming together, it also consistently fueled a fascinating phenomenon. Yes, I’m talking about those little mean anons and those walls of repetitive ass complaints preventing you from seeing content in the tags. In short, “hate”. Which represents the anti-movement and, it’s safe to safe to say at this point, a sub-subculture in and of itself. A few inputs before the actual rant:

From a neutral perspective, the Internet basically works like this: Immediate access to/diffusion of informations = Viral and limitless circulation.

And that’s great and positive,

but if your parents told you not to believe everything you read on the web to be true, now it’s time to remember that advice.

Because when free info distribution and limitless circulation make sweet love, it leads to increasing misinformation.

You’re misinformed when: you read someone else’s opinion and are firmly convinced that it is true without resources and/or factual proofs and qualified people confirming it.

Rings a few bells?

But fine, let’s say that those who condemn social issues, those who advocate, who do their best to promote healthy and open mindsets, those who want some kind of progress, aren’t spending 90% of the time they could be dedicating to those important causes… on the Internet > The place where sometimes - sometimes, but it happens - questionably subversive arguments are worded better than motivational speeches. This can be proven by looking at any post containing words like; “fetishization”; everything ending with “-phobia”; “harmful”; no, I’m not making these up, they’re the literal parody of terms with a heavy emotional impact. It doesn’t matter if they lack meaning. They can affect people on different degrees, but rest assured that the chance of someone not reacting to them [on a subconscious level] is pretty slim. All in all, these words serve their purpose very well. Now let’s put misinformation aside, let’s put data indigestion aside, as well as fragile contestations, lack of investigation, and idealistic visions of societies where we all think the same way.

So, fast forward.

I want to talk about fandoms. Who am I kidding, this was originally 100% about the Killing Stalking fandom. Except between discussing dark content in media, and fandom culture, and looking up precedents, such as Strikethrough (when I say antis remind me of radical religious groups I’m not shitting you but I wish I was), the point became wider. And clearer.

Everything you’ll read from this point on boils down to: Art is bad. Art exists to be bad.

I won’t claim these are my words, people - far more intelligent than me - have been having the same intuition since ancient times.

Homer’s Iliad is about war, mourning and death. It glorifies them on cosmic levels. I have read the Iliad two times. Wow, I guess I think dying is fun.

Euripides’ most famous play, Medea, is about a mother murdering her sons, then escaping. She’s the heroine of the play. In ancient Greece, plays were performed during festivals in public theatres. And I’ll tell you more: citizens who couldn’t afford the ticket participated anyway, because the government paid it for them. That’s because everyone, and I mean literally everyone, was encouraged to witness “wrong, controversial, absolutely vile” things as long as they happened on the stage.

On a lighter note, it’s possible for art to be simply amoral, since it’s how it’s always been, and always will be, as long as we’ll be entitled to free speech. Authors make choices. Either they put their beliefs and opinions into their work or they don’t.

Literature swims in the murkier waters of the human condition.

I’m going to go a little bit into this. When we talk about the horror genre, we should consider its origins. I’m sure you’re familiar with the piece of literature that lied the foundations of this genre, or at least with its renowned title. “Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus” was published in London on New Year’s Day, 1818, and “there was no author named on the title page, and readers and reviewers, almost to a person, assumed the book had been written by a man. They were mistaken.” (New York Times) We modern readers and reviewers, however, know that the Gothic novel that has enjoyed the most enduring popular success was written by a woman. And she was not the first one. Richard Davenport-Hines takes us back to the 18th century, years before Frankenstein was even a draft: “A significant amount of horror fiction of this era was written by women and marketed at a female audience, a typical scenario being a resourceful female protagonist menaced in a gloomy castle.” (Gothic: 1500 Years of Excess, Horror, Evil and Ruin. 1998.) Knowing that women have given a remarkable imprint to the horror genre made me think quite a lot. Is it possible to assume that gothic/horror/psychological are, in fact, some of the few narratives women had (and continue to have) such a deep impact on? And why is that? Answering these questions would be as difficult as determining the brain mechanism that leads us to actively seek the thrill of a good horror movie. And if you claim that a the horror genre is good only when it explicitly condemns bad and vile things, you need to read more books. If you haven’t even thumbed through Frankenstein, you’re probably unaware of its controversiality. I must admit, much as death is depicted with violent and terrifying tones, it’s nothing compared to other works of fiction I’ve met. But what really sticks to you after an afternoon spent between those pages, is human cruelty, as well as the utterly disarming human inclination to error. It sticks to you because it is real. When you pass judgement against fiction for influencing reality, I think it’s a far fetched, if not plainly wrong assumption, because that is not the nature of this relationship, which is simple. Fiction draws elements from the real world. Just what is necessary. Conversely, reality isn’t bended by fiction; and Darwin knew there was no way of Shelley’s tale happening just as well as she did. The extreme and profound emotions her book explores, however, belong to a human’s inner dimension. As debatable as they may be, or precisely because they are debatable, they belong to the pages of a book.

I find kind of hilarious how only a century later a horror story, written by a woman, ends up in young people’s hands and it is immediately considered inexcusable and “nasty” because of “amoral content.”

If you followed me until now, it won’t be hard to understand the next point. Pleasure can be amoral. Either people put their beliefs and opinions into what they love or they don’t. Often, these factors play a big part on what catches our attention; but that’s not mandatory, as I certainly don’t think murdering your son is a nice family activity. Medea is still one of my favorite plays. In school, no one told me this would make me a “murder apologist”.

Whenever it became progressive and almost natural to overlap an author’s, or even a reader’s conscience to a character’s, for whatever reason, I’m sure art will never be really free from this prejudice. My guess is that people simply aren’t able to separate the concept of something real from the concept of a parallel reality [fiction] in which ethical and physical laws aren’t applied in the same way. (And some people might feel so out of place and insecure about their own morals that as soon as moral integrity is questioned for its inflexible nature, the world crumbles down.)

There’s someone out there who will read this and be condescending (I get a tiny bit pretentious, especially since my safe zone is involved) but I don’t really care as long as there’s polite debate.

The article that encouraged me to write down my opinion, while being a superficial source, is an interesting one:

“Literature swims in the murkier waters of the human condition. Conflict and matters of life and death, of freedom and oppression—it is the business of books to explore these themes, and the business of teenagers, too.

New brain mapping research suggests that adolescence is a time when teens are capable of engaging deeply with material, on both an intellectual level as well as an emotional one. Some research suggests that during adolescence, the parts of the brain that processes emotion are even more online with teens than with adults, (something that will come as absolutely no surprise to any parent of a teenager). So, developmentally, teens are hungry for more provocative grist while emotionally they’re thirsty for the catharsis these books offer. Of course teens are drawn to darker, meatier fare.” (Gayle Forman, novelist - interviewed by Time)

What I’m saying is that art is vile. But the real world is also vile. Where’s the catch? Which part of this comes as a surprise?

Here goes the true shocking reveal, though: discouraging the creation of bad art isn’t a way to make reality significantly less bad. Let me put this more straightforwardly.

Censorship means taking away one of the most important human rights, while me writing a story in which a character thinks abuse isn’t a bad thing doesn’t violate any.

At this point, someone could argue that surely I’m not being sensible to abuse survivors, but the reason why I get away with it and Unfriendly Anon doesn’t is that I don’t do anything to directly and purposefully affect another person. So I’m good. Hate to break it down to you, but I’m not in charge of every single person on this site any more than you’re in charge of me and of my feelings. Or of minors and their feelings. Or of survivors and their feelings.

I’ve probably left something out, but hopefully the main points came across clearly. It’s fine if you don’t agree with them. Maybe make sure to understand what you’re talking about before you do broadcast your thoughts.