#ive wanted speakers for my computer for a long time

[excaive]

tfw new piercings

[pieofdeath]

ok my liveblog of the first spiderverse movie below the cut because its fuck off long. its 6 pages on google docs. for people who don't wanna read that- I had a very good time and I thoroughly enjoyed it, I'm gonna queue up the second one here shortly. i legitimately cried several times.

Intro fucking slaps

Miles’ dad using the cop sirens and car speaker to make miles say ily back. I hate that i find this incredibly funny.

ARE THOSE NIKES. DID SONY GET THE RIGHTS FOR NIKES.

MIDDLE SCHOOL. Oh my god. Middle school. Hes a kid. Hes at most 14. Oh my god.

DOC OCK <3

GWEN SPOTTED!!!!!

Fisk family foundation. Is this the time i should mention my extent of spiderman knowledge comes from my faefriend (very little they just show off the cool suits) and the snapcube fandub.

Uncle aaron rules and i think hes gonna die

Alchemax. Wasnt that the name on the spider from the intro. 

I THINK I GET IT NOW

SPIDER IN THE CEILING SPOTTED

This movie is so pretty btw i know everybody says that but its simply true. It is. Its really pretty.

The graffiti slaps

I've switched to typing these on my phone so I don't have to keep pausing

SPIDER BITE

THAT WAS THE COOLEST THING EVER. INCREDIBLE TRANSITION. LOVE HOW MILES BARELY CARED AND JUST SLAPPED THE SPIDER 

Yeah those are actual Nikes 

THE VOICE IN HIS HEAD POST SPIDERMAN BEING REPRESENTED AS COMIC BUBBLES

HOLY SHIT THIS MOVIE IS GENIUS.

Why doesn't she want people to know her name is Gwen? Why is she lying about being south African 😭

gwanda. Wanda. 

THE SHOULDER TOUCH. MILES YOU ARE SO SILLY 

“I don't think you know what puberty is”

STICKY SPIDER BOY.

SHE FULL THREW HIM HOLY CRAP

“No one saw” literally everyone saw

the double take for the super tall girl. that's incredibly realistic/gen I think this movie is awesome 

OUT LOUD BARK-LAUGHED AT “play dumb.” “Who's Morales” “NOT THAT DUMB.”

Idiot spider smashing into windows. obsessed with him.

the zoom in on the eyes. this art style is incredible 

THE INCREDIBLY SICK LAND AFTER HE GOT HIT BY THE CAR!!!

page break 1

“It's like. boring how normal this spider is.” and it immediately glitching in and out. INCREDIBLE.

The SPIDER SENSE. HOLY SHIT. 

THE GIANT LOOK OUT ON THE WINDOW.

SPIDERMANNNNN

“Brooklyn is not zoned for that” 😭

The little squiggles as Peter RealizesTM

who the fuck is purple guy genuinely 

MILES RECORDING THE FIGHT I LOVE HIM

KINGPIN 💖

I genuinely don't have words for how fucking incredible that was

“Can't you get up?” “Yeah, yeah I always get up.” Hm I don't think that's gonna be true for much longer

Is spiderman blonde I thought he was a brunette 

DID HE JUST FUCKING KILL SPIDER-MAN!!!

Ok purple guy is cool as hell

HE IMMEDIATELY RAN HOME. I'm going to cry. 

This kid is 14. I'm going. 

SO YES HE LEGITIMATELY DIED.

STAN'S COLLECTIBLES. HI MR LEE. AUGJDJAKAKC…. 😭 (these r agonized noises)

“I'm going to miss him.” EUFHFJSKAK

We were friends, you know.” SURIEJSKAKDUFUA

“It always fits. Eventually.” EURUFJDKAKDJCJK.

you can't fucking do this to me. 

This is just a kid with a party city suit that doesn't fit and untied shoes.

THE AAAAAAA AS HE FALLS

oh shit he broke the drive thingy

The suit still has the fucking tag on it.

EVERYTHING AROUND PETER'S GRAVE.

“I'm sorry Mr. Parker.” AUDJFJDJDJAK…..

LIGHTNING POWERS

PETERRRRRR THE PETER IVE SEEN

THE INTRO DEFINITELY HAD OFF BRAND COCA COLA AND THIS ONE HAS LEGITIMATE COKE

HOLY SHITTTTT

he's divorced and aunt may is dead D:

Crying in the shower in the spiderman suit with a piece of pizza on the tub rim I think this is the most spiderman img ever

“I'm pretty sure I broke her heart”

Nick Kroll and John Mulaney “hi, hello” but they're super old 😭

YEAH OK OK IT WAS KOCA SODA. 

“I don't think my atoms are real jazzed about being in the wrong dimension”

“With great power comes great-” “Don't you DARE finish that sentence”

Miles crouching on the side of the wall

page break 2

ITS THE MEME IMG YAAAY

CLACKITY CLACKITY CLACKITY-

MILES CAN TURN INVISIBLE 

HER INSANE DESKTOP

HES JUST TAKING THE WHOLE COMPUTER!!!

GWEN ALCHEMAX INTERN

“let me tell you the good news. We don't need the monitor.” 😭

BAGEL! guy!!!!!

GWENNNNNNNNN

Ok I paused during the swinging scene to go get some food and get dressed and then came back

It was oatmeal btw

OHHH THIS IS NOT THE GWEN HERE

The fact that all of the intro shots are the same is very fun to me

Peters her best friend AWWW

OH IT IS THE GWEN HERE!!!

I THOUGHT IT WAS!! BECAUSE SHE WAS WEIRD ABOUT HIS STICKY POWERS

AND SHE TIME TRAVELED TOO… SO COOL

“I like your haircut.” “You don't get to like my haircut.”

“How many more spider people are there?” “Save it for comic-con” “what's comic-con”

Every time we cut to kingpin I lose it 

AW VANESSA AND RICHARD :(

why is this guy blue btw they haven't addressed it at allllll 

Fascinated by Gwen’s universe where Peter Parker isn't spiderman.

AWW PETER AWAKE IN THE BACKSEAT 

AUNT MAYYYYYY

I'm literally obsessed with aunt may 

ALL THE DIFFERENT SPIDERSUITS!!!!!

my faefriend has told me about all these I think. like a good chunk of these I recognize. No idea what they're called or what they do but.

THE IMG OF MILES LOOKING UP AT THE SPIDERSUIT.

THE NAME TAGS FROM THE INTROSSSS

SPIDEY SENSES

SPIDER NOIR HEHEHEHAHAUD

PENI AND HER FUNKY LITTLE MECH!

HIIIIIII SPIDERHAMMNMM!!!!!

LITERALLY OBSESSED WITH SPIDERNOIR. 

the dichotomy between noir peni and ham is so so funny

Noir is so cool

Augh… Them talking about how he isn't ready when he's right there…

HIS DAD CALLING HIS UNCLE… 

Why is he writing a letter in marker

Fucking prowler. looks so cool

OH SHIT PROWLER IS UNCLE AARON!?!?!

page break 3

NO LONGER WORRIED ABOUT HIS SAFETY HOLY SHIT

DID HE BRING HIM TO THE TUNNEL WITH THE INTENT OF SPIDERMAN?!

Uncle Aaron HAS to know that it's Miles

This is so fucked

Peni doing her fun thing!

Noir trying to identify colors!

Does that mean noir can only see grayscale. that's hilarious.

I love the different art styles

Aunt may like please let's not fight in my house

“We don't pick the ballroom, we just dance” noir I'm obsessed with you

Did ham just crack a plate over his own head

I love that he can turn invisible that's so cool 

Especially when he keeps flickering in and out when he's scared. Miles my beloved 

OH HE DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS MILES OH THANK GOD

I mean this is really really sad but also good because it means he isn't knowingly  homicidal towards his nephew 

HOLY SHIT. 

KINGPIN SHOOTING UNCLE AARON BECAUSE HE DIDNT KILL MILES

I'm going to sob on the fucking floor

HIS DAD 

HIM TURNING INVISIBLE BECAUSE HE DIDNT WANT TO FACE HIS DAD AIGHSJDKA…

HIS INVISIBLE POWERS ARE LITERALLY THE MOST HEARTBREAKING THING IN THE WORLD

HE THINKS MILES KILLED HIS UNCLE FUCKKKKKKKK

THEM NAMING ALL THE PEOPLE WHO THEY WATCHED DIE. AUDJFJCJSKAF…

IM LEGITIMATELY TEARIN UP GANG FUCK THIS MOVIEEEE

if you can't tell I love it

“Miles, the hardest thing about this job is… you can't always save everybody.” SAID BY A LITTLE CARTOON PIG VOICED BY JOHN MULANEY. 

ALL OF THEM CRAMMED ON THE CEILING OF MILES DORM HOLY SHIT 

Noir is really funny to look at in the light

I don't think noir is in the second one which is 😭

The relationship between Miles and his Dad is literally going to make me cry

THE LIGHTNING CRACKLING IN HIS EYES AND THEN HIM BURSTING THROUGH THE WEBS AND THE PATTERN ON HIS SKIN!!!!!!!!!!!

Aunt May waiting for Miles in the basement!!!! 

HIS EYES LINING UP WITH THE SPIDERMAN SUIT WHEN THEY HADN'T BEFORE.

The what's up danger scene really is that fucking incredible. oh my god. I got chills.

He spray painted his suit and the spider is drippy!!! I'm literally about to go feral.

The hoodie and jacket and Nikes and shorts still over the suit. 

The WOOOOO as he goes up the place he fell before.

The incredible shot of him stationary mid-air that I think was the poster

This is literally the coolest movie ever

page break 4

HIS COMIC JOINING THE PILE.

THEM DRESSED AS WAITERS DJDJDJJAJAJC

PETER AND MJ…

DRAMATIC CUT TO NOIR HOLDING A PLATTER AND GWEN SO GODDAMN TIRED

MJ is so pretty in this art style btw. 

The Doc Ock tentacles creeping in through the ceiling right behind Peter…

MILESSSS

“I love you I'm so proud of you!” AUDHFJDJAJAJDK!!!!

MILES MAKING PETER RE-EVALUATE IF HE WANTS KIDS…

NEW YORK BREAKING APART

Noirs fight is SO COOL. Putting the hat on the guy and then punching him in the face.

sorry I love film noir as an aesthetic and spider noir is so cool

PENI V SCORPION 

THE FUCKING ANVIL. 

FUCK THEM UP HAM!!!!!

PENI HITTING THE GUY WITH A ROBOT ARM AND IT BRIEFLY FLICKERING TO HER ART STYLE!!!!

PENI’S ROBOT FRIEND D:

DOC OCK GETTING HIT BY A DAMN TRUCK

obsessed with Peni and Noir's friendship.

NOIR SAID HE LOVES THEM

HE TOOK THE RUBIX CUBE

EVERYTHING FLICKERING BLACK/WHITE WHEN NOIR ENTERS

HAM SAYING “THATS ALL FOLKS” AND PETER ASKING IF HE WAS LEGALLY ALLOWED TO SAY THAT 😭

GWEN AND MILES FRIENDSSSS

MILES HOLDING ONTO PETER'S SUIT AND DROPPING HIM IN. 

“It's a leap of faith.” FUCK YOU

“Not bad, kid.” FUCK YOU 

Miles taking kingskins gun and saying “that's cheating” 😭

VANESSA AND RICHARD LEAVING THE SAME WAY THEY DID IN THE FLASHBACK BECAUSE KINGSKIN WAS DOING THE SAME DAMN THING. FUCK ME DUDE.

MILES DAD IS WATCHING

THE ENTIRE FUCKING BRIDGE. 

This is the coolest fight scene ever btw

HE ELETROCUTED KINGSKIN WITH THE FUCKING SHOULDER TOUCH

the fact that the interconnected universes look like a spider's web. fuck dude.

HAMS ANVIL

THE BUILDING FUCKING EXPLODED. IS MILES’ DAD OK!!!

IS HE FUCKING OKAY!!!

OK THANK GOD HE'S ALIVE

HIS DAD OFFERING TO PUT UP SOME OF HIS ART AT THE POLICE STATION

C-MOBILE 😭

THE HUG!!!!!!!

page break 5

IM FULLY CRYIN BTW.

KINGSKIN HELD UP BY THE WEB. “FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SPIDERMAN.”

THE UNCLE AARON ART. FUCKING HELL DUDE.

Omg miles finally has friends

PENI'S ROBOT FRIEND!!!

NOIR SOLVED THE CUBE!!!! I proud of him

PETER GOING TO SEE MJ WITH FLOWERS…

GWEN CALLING OUT TO MILES ACROSS DIMENSIONS!!!!

THE SPRAY PAINT SPIDER

the credits are fucking INCREDIBLE

the different art styles I'm going to scream

NOIR SHOWING OFF THE CUBE. 

Did that just say Nicholas Cage.

Who the fuck is voiced by Nick Cage.

NOIR?!?!?!?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN HE'S NOIR HOLD THE FUCK ON.

N O I R?!?!

Incredible movie.

“That person who helps others simple because it should or must be done, and because it is the right thing to do, is indeed without a doubt, a real superhero. -Stan Lee” FUCK ME SIDEWAYS WITH A CHAINSAW DUDE

Literally crying again over that.

Ok yeah that was a really good movie. I'm gonna start the second one in a bit. I think I need some recovery time 😭

Wait I skipped to the end to see if there was an after credits scene and. Ok obsessed with Spidey-Bells. 😭😭😭

MIGUELLLLLL I KNOW THIS GUYYYYYYY 

THE SPIDERMAN SCENE. THE POINTING SCENE.

IM GOING TO CRY THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

INCREDIBLE AFTER CREDITS SCENE.

end of liveblog! as you can see I really fucking liked it akjdfskajf I had to put the pagebreaks in otherwise tumblr got mad about like. 4096 characters per text block limit? ok wild. it provides checkpoints which I think is nice. onto the second movie.

[furryphantomnacho]

When I say it aloud, it feels petty, but I've kept a list of things I have wanted over the course of our relationship.

I wanted a proper ring set to show I was married. Nothing extravagant as I'm uncomfortable with expensive or flashy jewerly, but something that said someone put a ring on it.

A sectional sofa or decent living room furniture instead of the hodge podge of items I've bought 2nd hand or found for free over the years.

A kayak or canoe. I love to be outside when it's warm and love the serenity of gliding over calm, deep, dark water most of all.

A miniature village. I have always had a thing for those small Lemax style Christmas village displays. I know as a hobby or collection, it can get expensive, which is why I'm more than fine with 2nd hand, thrifted, or individual pieces purchased over time.

A hot tub. Again, would be ok with one purchased used as long as it was sanitized (and I'd do it myself anyway, because I like to be clean). Even an inflatable hot tub would be nice. I have arthritis and spine issues.

I think I keep a list of these things because they were promised, and I don't feel they are unreasonable requests, not over the course of a decade or more. Especially not in comparison to the things we've financed and struggled to pay for, for his hobbies and interests.

When he got into sewing, he wanted to do automotive reupholstery. We bought an industrial sewing machine, fabric, and special needles and thread. The machine itself was 3 grand. Bolts of fabric are ridiculous.

When he wanted to do fabrication and YouTube videos, we bought an LLC license, camera equipment, outsourced production for a very niche item, a drone for aerial shots, and spent money for him to travel to locations to film for himself or others.

A 3D printer, when a "cheap" one was still a grand and the technology still new. One of the kids tripped over the cord, causing it to fall and break. He had it sitting on a converted barstool with the power cable stretched like a tripwire across the room. We had a tiny toddler. Didn't buy the warranty.

3 motorcycles. One was a project piece that was given away when the project became too much. The other two were Harleys.

Power tools. Dewalt brand, because it has to be.

A bus. Yup. A bus. That is a whole story in and of itself, and maybe I'll get around to posting about it, but it was a converted 60's something commercial bus.

A greenhouse. That he had to have set up before winter, but wouldn't use in the winter, because it was cold. Is now wondering if it's already too warm in the greenhouse for the plants. Gardening equipment; fans, tools, special soil, seeds, grow tents, lights, and chemicals.

A 70-inch TV, for our hodgepodge living room.

His daily commute vehicle is usually something fun or unique to his taste and interests.

Another Xbox for his room once we moved into separate rooms. Says it's to co-op with the kids, rarely plays with them.

Guitars. Ones a LesPaul. Amplifiers, speakers, pedals 😒, etc.

Another truck. It's older and doesn't really run right now. Needs parts, but otherwise, it sits in front of the house. He said we needed it for all the projects we have to do around the house. I use my wagon or have things delivered for the projects I do.

Other electronic equipment; hard drives, computers, monitors, projectors and screens, microphones, and software.

So maybe it's not that petty? Maybe I'm angry because there IS an unfairness to our dynamic?

Part of the reason I bring all of this up is because, yes, I finally got the ring set, after over a decade and this past 2 Christmases, Ive gotten 4 pieces of my village. Yesterday, I had a sectional couch delivered. It's glorious and huge and me and my babies can stretch out together on it while being next to each other. It was a bit less than 3 grand. I put 200 of my school money down on it and am looking for a job, in part to pay for it and balance the bills out.

I feel so guilty about it. I didn't do it behind his back, as he had suggested it to begin with and even put it on his credit, but the guilt is astounding.

I ended up giving him my debit card for him to purchase his special soil because I felt so bad. I just enabled it, didn't I? Made it worse? Perpetuated the cycle? I have a feeling he checked the account balance and will know I was misleading on what I had in there. I said just had 200 for the couch and a bit extra, but I didn't say that there was a little more behind that. The couch money and extra are just what I had earmarked for use, I was trying to save the rest.

Last night, after he did some work, and he called me out to see, he asked if I was only staying with him for the possibility of the money he could make once he retired. I told him it had never been about the money, that as long as he tried and made things equal, that's what I really cared about. I would buy him all the things if I could, I try to even when we don't have the money, just to show him that I love and appreciate and care that he is satisfied. I want him to pursue his interests but want the same consideration for myself in return.

He's had a couple of offers for high paying technical positions that align with the best parts of his career. Things that spilled over into personal interests and were added to the list of things bought and financed over the years. I told him that while it would be great if he could make that kind of money, what I really wanted was for him to be happy, but he still had responsibilities to his family. His retirement will cover most of our basic living expenses, and me going back to work should cover the rest, so anything he does would be in addition to that.

I found this a little hurtful. When we first got together, he told me his friends thought I was a gold digger, a uniform chaser, a dependa because my first husband had been military as well, because I had a young kid and was working as a waitress or other odd jobs. He said he lost those friends because of me. That it was their response to our relationship that caused him to cut them off.

I guess I'm in it for the long game?

That's sarcasm.

If I was a gold digger, then I would be a pretty terrible one, that's for sure.

He did ask if buying the couch made up for earlier this year. I said sure.

I keep going back to how guilty I feel about the couch.

A friend of his that has become somewhat friends with me retired and took a new position. I reached out and asked if this major company was hiring for someone with no job experience who hadn't completed their degree and he said he'd hook me up, sent me the link and had me fill out the application. Said he would get in front of it and talk to the hiring manager directly after the long weekend. Part of this process included an assessment, which I'm pretty sure I did terribly on as afterward I got an automated email saying the company had decided to go with other applicants.

It was a blow for sure. I don't know what to do with that. Do I message the friend and ask whats up or do I just say thanks for the opportunity and move on?

I graduate in August. If I can pay for it. His benefits for me run out next month, and he hasn't offered to sign over any additional months.

I'm trying to work through all the negative emotions today, but it's difficult.

[bangcakes]

.

[hajihiko]

I love the way you drew that izuru doodle! I always thought Izuru in the anime looked too... not like he was a science experiment, but your Izuru just looks so much more realistic and it's heartbreaking but Izuru's existence is heartbreaking so. Well done you've outdone the danganronpa creators again

Question: What are your thoughts on Izuru? Like just him as a character? Do you have any headcanons about him? You might've been asked this before if so apologies ;-;

Thank you! Ive only seen that one sprite of him but it looked so....person with a wig, not very menacing

Anyway

I don't rly know anything about him, BUT i thought a lot about the deets of the whole talent thing, even talked to my rly smart friend about it

So like. We know he's constantly bored because he's so insanely capable and smart that nothing is any kind of challenge and therefore illicits no reaction. Also it's very possible that his brain just got messed with way too hard and it ruined the emotions part, one way or another (like hyper-dysthemic depression, idk if that's the word they still use but let's say I'm familiar with it).

I figure that, since nothing is a challenge, he doesn't even need to focus his talents, meaning it's either constantly running like a million computer programmes, or he just falls into the appropriate talent without needing to think about it- instinct basically, or rather, forcefully carved brain-paths.

Now bear with me I'm not a native english speaker. So when you do something often, and it works for you somehow, it opens a pathway in your brain to make it easier to access this action or thought, like sheep walking the path path over and over until it's a little grooved road. This is something people with talents of action (fighter, runner, programmer etc) definitely made in themselves, but it got artificially pressed into Izuru. So, he has these deep brain grooves that he effortlessly falls into when appropriate, because it's what all his brains are used to doing. It's extra effortless because he doesn't really care what it is, how it works, as long as it just does. His reactions might therefore be, creepily accurate in every situation, or completely inappropriate. Someone hugs him and he gives a great hug back because that's just what his body does, even if there's no emotion in it, because he's an Ultimate Babysitter or something. Or, someone hugs him and he breaks their arms, because his Ultimate Assassin talent kicked in and he just didn't care / try / have time to get out of that brain groove. And like, why would he? It worked then, it works now.

This is also, I want to interpret, somewhat why hes so GOSH darn bored. He got so good at protecting himself from all the pain and confusion that he just cut it all off entirely; VERY common trauma response. Some of it is definitely also the surgeries and the absolutely cacophony in his brain and his hyper-understanding- that's what keeps it up- but what started it might've just been a plain and simple coping mechanism. Also feels like that's why Hajime can come back fully; a) he decided to and he's a very wilful guy and his power is being human and I love him so he just did it, b) he was able to get out of that deep deep groove, feel his entire spectrum of emotions again and activate those pathways, and is once again able to kind of access them. It'll take time and effort to get to where he was, but it's happening! There's... dare I say.... hope?

Sidenote this is all based on / inspired by my experiences with depression (as a symptom or the whole thing idk) of the active-but-emotionally-dead variant, not nearly as serious as brain surgery fuckups but nonetheless sth I can connect. Just now realized I might be more invested in this than I thought.

This one is moreso Haji-zuru, but I imagine that he'd be both very easily bored and would often just peace out in his head bc nothing is fun (should not be left alone for too long bc he'll get too deep into his blank stasis), while ALSO chasing any real emotion ferociously, just like, honing in on anything that catches his feels. Which can be nice! Feelings are somehow novel and familiar to him. But also not nice because sometimes, the feeling is a bad one. Just because it makes you feel something doesn't mean that it's good for you and others.

Also the reflexes and such. Might be a hard habit to break.

Sidenote I generally err on the nurture side of philosophy and do not understand the talent thing. Everyone is memories, memories and thoughts are basically ALL we are, how can Izuru have the active parts of the memories only and nothing else. How can he be The Ultimate Babysitter without actually taking any of that in?? He can do the actions but not access anything that shapes them and that's honestly an interesting concept. Boggles the mind. No wonder he's fucked up he's fucking me up.

[g0ldengubler]

lunchtime ~ spencer reid

A/N: THIS IS VERY UNEDITED VERY HORRIBLE WRITING! i just wanted to get this out. this is a kink i have but never really talked about it. but i hope u still enjoy! it’s very weird so if you don’t want to read it you don’t have to :)

Category: smut (NSFW18+)

CW: rough sex, riding, doggystyle, special guests listening in

Summary: spencer reid works a lot. he’s an fbi agent, he can’t help but be a workaholic! but when you guys finally get time to yourselves, what happens when it’s risky interrupted?

Word Count: 2078

✨masterlist✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

having a boyfriend who works in the FBI isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. Because of his job, Dr.Spencer Reid was always either gone on a case or working on cases at home. he could be doing it in the office, but spencer was a sweet guy and made a middle ground to see his girlfriend more. he was just as passionate about her as he was with his job, calling her every night when he was away, making sure to treat her when he got back or when he was done for the day. he made sure she knew she was important to him, which wasn’t something she ever felt from a guy who was a workaholic.

today was just like every other day. spencer got to do case files at home as there was no case as of then. Y/n tried her best to take care of him while working, as a return of the favor. She made him his favorite waffles that morning and even made him a fresh cup of coffee just the way he likes it-a cup of sugar with coffee to mix. He kissed her on the forehead, convinced that he didn’t deserve her. once he was done he went straight to work. In a way, y/n pretty much worked with him as his personal Penelope Garcia, as he was an old man when it came to computers.

it was lunchtime at this point. y/n walked into his office and stood in the door frame, watching his fingers move down the page in his book as he read. his fingers made her melt, and he knew that. clouds began to form in her head as thoughts of what he could do with this fingers took hold of her. she didn’t even notice he was wanting her attention as he snapped her out of her daydreams with a snap of his fingers.

“Bubs, are you ok?” spencer asked. he was still at his desk, his finger placed at the spot he was at. you looked back at him from his finger, noticing what he was wearing and it wasn’t helping your case at all. while he was wearing his favorite maroon cardigan that he thrifted (still lux though as it was ralph lauren), he also wore a pair of grey sweatpants. clever of him for the moments he had to video chat with people.

you were quickly out of your thoughts yet again as you felt your body move without you knowing before. you walked towards him as he turned his chair to your side. you noticed he was half hard in his pants, as the imprint of himself showed through. you sat on his lap and ran your fingers through your hair, peppering kisses below his ear. he chuckled, thinking you were being cute, but you were just getting started.

“it’s lunchtime bubs.” you whispered as you softly grind against him.

spencer put his hands on your his after guiding your body to straddle him. he guides them as his lips touch yours. “good,” he said in between kisses, gently rubbing circles over your shorts in the place you wanted him most, “i’m starving.”

not only was spencer the sweetest, softest man you’ve ever met, but he was also the sexiest and dirtiest. he was rough like a wild bear but soft as a teddy bear-taking such good care of you after he ruined you to filth. no one would ever believe the things you two have done together in the past year. no one would especially believe what happened today.

as spencer’s about to slide his hand down your shorts, his phone rang. he groan softly under his breath as his right hand left your side to grab his phone. you were a little annoyed at first, but once he put the phone to his ear, an idea popped into your head.

“hey hotch...” he said. you slowly leaned down and went back to the spot below his ear, sucking and nibbling it softly.

this wasn’t something new to the both of you. it was a fun little game you’d play if either of phones rang while you were in the middle of it, seeing how long they could last at acting normal. by now, spencer had got the hang of it and made it easy for him when it was any of his coworkers. today, however, he was almost struggling.

you heard other voices on the phone as well. you could tell by how low they all sounded that it was 3 of the men on his team.

“yeah, i was um...about to have lunch.”

you decided to try and break him a little, sucking a little bit harder.

“can i call y-“ a soft moan left his lips, cutting him off his sentence. his eyes bulged out of his head as his mouth fell open. you quickly coughed in a lower tone to help him out, trying not to laugh.

“yeah, luke i’m fine,” he said, “just stubbed my toe....shut up morgan!”

you giggled softly to yourself, but not softly enough. you heard laughing from his phone and realized you were busted.

“hi boys!” you said, jokingly sounding seductive.

spencer gave you a look that said ‘are you kidding me?’ which made you giggle even more. you hear morgan on the other end say, “aww, did we interrupt your lunch?”

“yeah, you did! we were just about to get started.”

spencer placed the phone back to his ear, taking a deep breath before speaking. “look seriously can we-“

he paused, listening to whoever was talking. slowly, spencer removed the phone from his ear and covered it with his shoulder. he looked unsure of himself, as if he was trying to gather the courage to speak.

“bubs,” he said weakly, “do you um...uh..d-do you want to...have the phone on speaker?”

you thought for a moment. you were always secretly into things like this, but never told spencer because you thought he would find it weird. but seeing him look kind of into it didn’t help the puddle forming in your shorts.

“you don’t have to if you don’t want to. whatever your comfortable with!”

you thought for one more moment before taking his phone out of his hands and putting it on speaker for him, setting it down on his desk. he looks at you confused.

“let’s put on a show for your coworkers, daddy.”

“ooooo coming in with the big guns already!” said Luke.

“y/n does not play.” said Hotch.

Spencer was frozen in his tracks. he couldn’t believe the words coming out of their mouths, let alone what was going on.

“well come on then daddy, give us a show! my popcorn is getting cold.” teased morgan.

spencer rolled his eyes at morgan before his lips attacked yours. you continued your grinding on him, this time he was grinding back. you moaned through the kiss as his hands went back in your shorts, rubbing circles on your clit.

“oh wow, spencer got a girl to moan like that!” said Morgan.

“is he making you feel good, hun?” asked hotch.

“fuck yesssss!” you let out a long moan as spencer moved faster with his motions. he let out a groan and cursed under his breath. you felt his pressed under your thigh and that made you try to hold in how turned on you really were. you held on for dear life on the armrests of his chair as he leaned back a little bit.

“are you getting close, baby girl?” asked morgan.

“yes yes yes fuuuck daddy please let me cum.”

“you wanna cum for me, angel?” asked spencer.

“yes omg please i’m so fucking close!”

“cum for him, princess.” said Luke.

before you could fall down the hill like on a roller coaster, you felt incomplete as he took his fingers out. you let out a little whine, letting the guys know he didn’t let you cum.

“ooooo doctor genius over there didn’t let her cum, how sad.” teased Luke.

“what are you going to do now?” asked Hotch.

“because she’s about to get fucked and really show you how much of slut she truly is. well, MY slut at least.”

spencer took his painfully hard cock out as you moved your shorts to the side. you felt the head enter you and shortly his whole length was slammed deep inside you before you even make a sound. you let out a quiet gasp before a loud moan escaped from your throat.

he let you adjust, but only for a short moment as he quickly began pounding you, holding you from your ass. you were a moaning mess at this point, letting out more dramatic, pornographic ones for the guys.

“fuck he’s really an animal isnt he?” teased Hotch.

“you like being pounded like a dirty slut?” asked Luke.

you moaned out a yes, but it wasn’t enough for them.

“use your words, baby girl.” said Morgan.

“i love being pounded like a dirty slut!”

“tell them who’s slut you are.” spencer growled.

you held onto him from behind his head and pushed his face in between your tits. “i’m you’re slut, spencer,” you moaned, “i’m daddy’s little slut!”

“you’re such a good girl, y/n.” said Hotch.

“fuck daddy can i cum? please let me cum ive been a good girl!”

“what do you think?” spencer asked.

“cum, baby girl.” said morgan

“cum for him, princess.” said Luke.

“cum hard all over his cock, baby.” said Hotch.

you finally came all over his cock, screaming as the pleasure surged through your body. spencer helped you ride out your orgasm and let you catch your breath.

“holy shit” said Luke.

“oh we’re not done yet,” said spencer, “she deserves a reward for doing so well.”

he takes you off his cock and makes you stand up, flipping you around so you were in front of him, your ass sticking out. he quickly put his cock back inside of you and luke and morgan cheered on. he pounds you harder this time, making sure you lose your voice by the time you’re done.

“youre such a dirty slut,” spencer growled, taking a handful of your hair and pulling it, “letting me fuck you over the phone with not just my friends, my coworkers. you like putting on a show for people? you want people to know how much of a fucking slut you are for me?”

your eyes rolled to the back of your head at his words. the pure filth in them almost pushing you off the edge as you squeezed around his cock. even the guys grew silent.

“fuck keep doing that angel, keep squeezing daddy’s cock like tha-shit im close. you want my cum inside you?”

“oh my god yes please, i want to be full of your cum daddy!”

hearing you say those words through him over the edge as you feel him filling you up, hearing him moan your name and cursing under his breath. he stayed inside you for a bit before he caught his breath and left to go get something to clean you up with. when he comes back he looks at you sitting in front of him, watching his cum drip out of you and onto his work chair. he wasn’t even mad about it.

“you did so good, bubs.” he says, walking over and kneeling in front you before cleaning you up.

“you were amazing, baby!” you say. he comes back up and kisses you, and it was hard to break away. but somehow you did after what felt like hours and laughed at yourselves for what you just did. you then remembered they were still on the phone. spencer grabs his phone and faces it towards them.

“well? how was the show?” you asked.

“holy-“

“fuck.” luke cut morgan off.

you had left them speechless before hotch finally spoke up.

“....we will not speak of this at work.”

[theasstour]

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

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

Thursday, 11 June

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good, thank you. And yourself?”

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

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

“Y/N McKay.”

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

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

“Till August 10th.”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N frowned. “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“-Harry!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That… I-“ Harry stopped himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now you’re being rude.”

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

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

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

“Jessa, it’s… she’s just…”

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

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

“Where’s your luggage?”

“At the Inn. The Roaming Crab.”

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

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

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

“Am I?” Jessa crossed her arms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve never been alone, nanay.”

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

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

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

“You too, Jessa. And you, Grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gave him a smile, getting one in return.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you. I… It was too much-“

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

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

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

Friday, 12 June

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course! What do you fancy?”

“Oh, a toastie’s fine.”

“Vegetarian?”

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

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

“Thank you so much, Bessie.”

“Don’t mention it.”

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Harry love.”

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

“For the third time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N chuckled. “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Don’t feel like you-“

“-I’m sorry about your dad.”

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

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

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

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

“In the lighthouse?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I’m the lighthouse keeper.”

Her frown deepened a little.

“What?”

“I didn’t think those existed anymore.”

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

“No, lighthouse keepers.”

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

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

“Too bad.”

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

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

“Do you? Cry your eyes out?”

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

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

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

She narrowed her eyes some.

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

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

He nodded. “And ran into you.”

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

She smiled. “Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you, Y/N!”

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

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

“She can’t have… right?”

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

“You’ve painted a vivid picture.”

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

“-You still can.”

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

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

“What’s that?”

“We pretend to be a couple.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry whistled under his breath. “Mouthful.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, I gotta go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yangrdn]

Destiny

pairing: Mj x Fem!Reader

a/n: hii! I liked writing this- my 1st attempt at writing angst 🤠 i hope u enjoy it too, reblogs and feedback show that you liked our work and morivates writers to do more !!

requested:anonymous: Hi can I have a MJ request? It can be about anything just be like really angsty. Maybe a car accident? idk it’s writers pick ☺️

summary: Regretting your break up came sooner than you thought.

w/c: 3.4k

warnings: hospitals, mentions of a car crash and cheating

my m.list

requests | guidlines

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Your feet drag you out of your apartment the second the words left Peter’s mouth. He had called you and explained to you what happened. Your purse over your shoulder, car keys in one hand and phone shaking in the other.

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to comprehend. Hot tears fill your eyes the second you hear his words for a second time through the speaker.

“She was in an accident, Y/N. They called her parents already and they’re on their way. I’m with Ned, he’s driving. Just, be safe a-” You couldn’t even listen to him anymore. Your vision turns blurry as sobs escape your lips. Peter sighs and tries to get your attention as he repeats calling your name.

“Y/N! I’m on my way to yours, we’ll drive together.” he says before hanging up and leaving you in the silence of your room. You only nod and lower your phone as you stare ahead of you, remembering what happened only a day ago.

The grin on her face disappears the moment she registered what you said. Your eyes turned glossy and you looked down, trying to hide the fact that you were about to cry.

“What? What did you say?” She came closer to you, in an attempt to take your hand and lock your fingers. You stepped back, back hitting the door behind you and pulling your hand back.

“Mj, you heard me…,” She shakes her head, muttering “no, no..” until she looked up to you again and the tears started spilling out her eyes. You only nod, not being able to drag out any words. You didn’t want to do this, and she knew. But you had to, after what Tony told you, that’s what she didn’t know.

Tony had told you about his job, and about the many times Pepper was in danger because of him. It started off as a normal conversation between him and you. He was just trying to warn you of the dangers of your new job as an almost-avenger.

You had gotten your powers after being bitten by a spider, the same way Peter got his. The only difference: you were better at keeping secrets. That’s why it took Tony almost six months longer to recruit you, after he recruited Peter.

Since Mj didn’t know why you were doing this, she kept asking you why. Pulling you in, but you resisting. Her hands reach to you, only for you to step back, again.

“I promise you, I don’t- I don’t want to do this, Mj. I just,” you looked up and let out a shaky breath,”I’m so, so scared! Please, just understand.” Were the words you let out before turning around, stepping out of her cozy home and walking home.

You weren’t going to forget this night.

And you didn’t. Oh, how much you wish to have stayed and hold her in your arms, telling her that everything was going to be okay and you weren’t going to leave, never.

Instead, you are waiting in front of your front door step for Peter and Ned to pick you up and drive you to the hospital, in which your now ex-girlfriend lay.

You don’t even notice them pulling up after seven minutes of waiting, until a black car honks and pulls you out of your crying state. The window rolls down and Ned waves at you. You quickly get up and sit in the backseat, taking out your phone and scrolling through the messages you got earlier today.

You had tossed your phone against the wall when you came home yesterday and ignored every call and message you got, most of them from Mj, which you now regret more than ever.

Mj 🌺

y didn’t u pick up?

look ik you probably don’t want to talk but at least give me a reason??!

hellooo?

A couple more of her asking for reasons and demanding to know why, two messages from Ned and the last one from Peter, telling you to drive to the hospital. You sniffle, tears threatening to leave your eyes, again, and look out the window at the houses and trees melting away as the car passes them. It was still morning, which is why it was dark. Why was she out this late?, you asked yourself and look at her messages again. She sent her last one at two am.

Mj 🌺

u can’t just do this and leave?

yk what? i’m gonna find out myself

A gasp left your mouth as more tears slipped past your eyes. She was on her way to yours to find out why you broke up. She tried to find out why you ignored her calls and texts and didn’t want to be with her anymore.

“Ned?” You ask quietly when he stops the car in front of the hospital. Peter gets out and opens your door, taking your hand and helping you out. Ned steps out, too, and makes his way to the registration.

“I’m sure she’s fine, they-” before Peter could finish, you jog after Ned and stand next to him. An old lady, hair pulled back in a tight bun, wearing a white coat and tired smile sits in front of you. She glances up at you and then back at the computer screen in front of her.

“We’re here for Mj, she came in an hour ago-” The woman cuts off Peter as she nods.

“You three are related to her in what way?” She wants to know. Ned opens his mouth but shuts it when you’re about to interrupt him.

“Her brother,” you lie and motion with your hand to Ned and back at you. “And I’m her girlfriend.” She looks sceptical at first, as if she knows you’re lying.Then, glancing back at the screen and you, she gives you the floor and room number.

You instantly turn around and make your way to the elevator, the two boys behind you thanking the woman silently and following along with you.

You step out the lift and look at the long, empty hallway in front of you. On each side were big, grey painted doors with small windows. The hallway is empty, except for two nurses who sat behind the reception. There were paintings by kids hung up on the white walls and a long, white lamp luminating the corridor in low lights.

“Number 305, 305, 305,...” you murmur as you make your way past the doors on your right. Peter darts from door to door on your left, whilst Ned is following you and takes a double-look, as you seem to skip over them hastily.

“Guys, guys!” Peter hurries you to the closed door before him and peaks through the small window. You take a sharp intake of breath and grab the door handle swiftly, but you stop yourself.

“Wha- why did you stop?” Ned wonders out loud.

“I think I’m the least person she wants to see right now,” you say through glossy eyes and biteyour bottom lip. Peter scoffs.

“Dude, she wanted to see you. She’s been asking about you non-stop yesterday. The least you could do is go in and be the first one she sees,” he demands and slowly pushes the door open, “and explain,” he narrows his eyes at you and pushes you in, closing the door quietly after stepping in with Ned.

Walking in, you plant your feet at the end of her bed. There was a food try on a small table next to her, with a bouquet of flowers and a small card. You couldn’t make out much of what it read, except for a “get well <3”, which you assume must’ve been from Betty. It resembled her handwriting.

An IV connected to her left arm, that was draped over a white, thin blanket with black spots. The lights were low, but the wide and tall window let in an excessive amount of light, as it was getting brighter outside. The second patient bed in the room was empty and tidied, and the privacy curtains were on one side. The TV next to her head was turned on, silently playing some cartoon she must’ve watched before falling asleep. The room smelled like lemon-cleaner, which made Ned hold his nose before he got used to the new smell.

Her head was draped to one side and her eyes shut. There was a white band around her head and you could see that her hair was a little shorter; They must’ve cut it to attend her wounds, you think. That thought alone made your eyes turn wet again and step away from her. Peter shoves you back to the bed and motions to the girl laying on the bed.

“I can’t, she probably hates me now,” you shake your head as tears threaten to spill again and your hand goes straight to your chest, fisting the fabric on it.

“Y/N, you can’t ju-” There was movement on the bed, which made Ned stop talking. Mj moved her head, slowly opening her eyes. She looks around the room before her eyes settle on you three.

“Wha-” Her voice comes out harsh and croaked. Coughing, she goes on, “What the fuck.”

Ned stifles a laugh but goes back to serious when Peter glares at him. Your friend on the bed moved up again. Peter nudges your shoulder, signaling for you to go and help her. With wide eyes, you stare at him, arguing with your eyes to stay back.

“Wait- Y/N, go help her. I’ll tell the nurse she woke up,” Peter demands as he leaves the room, without sparing you a last glance. Ned leaves with him, silently apologizing and wishing you luck.

You walk to the small TV first, turning it off and moving it away from the bed and replacing it with a chair to sit on. You take the remote next to her bed and push the button for the bed to lift and make it easier for her to sit. She grabs the blanket tight in her fist and lifts her body up to sit straight, you help her and adjust the grey pillow behind her back.

“Uhm, hi,” you whisper, looking anywhere but her face as you sit down. She was confused, a frown sitting on her lips and her eyes squinted at your figure. You didn’t want to face her so soon, even less in such a situation.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t really know what to do and,” you sniffle,, letting out a sigh, your face hiding behind your hands as you rub your temple. “I came to- to see you and ask how you are?” It sounds more like a question leaving lips. You didn’t know how to start the conversation.

“What?” A small laugh leaves her lips, which calms you down. Her laugh and giggles always help you through difficult times and make you feel a kind calmness you only experience with her. She doesn’t seem mad, you think before mentally slapping yourself- she had just woken up from surgery after getting into a car crash because you wouldn’t tell her the truth.

“How do you feel?” You wonder. “Do you remember anything that happened?” She nods and looks down at her hands.

“No, no. This is going so fast. You- you broke up with me, for no reason, and now you’re here saying you’re sorry?” She searched for an answer. Her eyes were boring into you, waiting for a valid answer. She had every right to know, but it was complicated for you to explain.

“I’m-” The door opens and Peter walks in.

“The doctor’s gonna come in to check,” he comments as he sits down on the chair next to the small blue table. Taking out his phone and unblocking it, he starts mindlessly scrolling through it, ignoring you and Mj in front of him.

“Uhm, Pete?” You cough and tilt your head to the side, signaling for him that you weren’t done talking.

“What- Oh,” he whispered as he got up again. “How do you feel?” He walks up to the bed and looks at Mj. She glances at you and back at him, pursing her lips before talking.

“My head kinda hurts, my ribs hurt when I breathe, I can’t sit straight and my girlfriend broke up with me. I feel excellent!” She replies, sarcasm dripping off her voice.

That 's Mj for you. Sarcasm is what gets her through the day, there's not one situation in which she stayed serious. The day she asked you out, she reminded you of how obvious it was that you had a crush on her and that you’re not really good at hiding your flustered state everytime she catches you staring at her in class. Spending more time with her after your first date just proved it for you even further.

Peter lets out a breath and looks at you. “Should I-?” He points to the door and gives it a look. You nod and put your lips into a thin line as he leaves the room slowly, apologizing and closing it quietly.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have done that yesterday. It’s just,” you stop yourself and breath in slowly, stopping yourself from exposing your secret. She doesn’t know about your alter ego. All the times you wanted to tell her, you were too scared she’ll be mad you didn’t tell her sooner or ask why you lied about doing homework and went patrolling instead, facing any danger there was out there waiting for you as if it was nothing.

You were already scared something would happen to her because you told her your secret. And now? Now, she lay in a hospital bed in front of you, with broken ribs and a head wound, because you didn’t tell her about your secret.

“What? What were you gonna say?” She presses. You lean back on the chair, hugging yourself as you stare into her beautiful brown eyes.

“Will you promise to not tell anyone?” You ask, already scared of her reaction.

“Tell anyone what?” She frowns. “If you’re gonna tell me that you lo-”

“I’m Capes,” you blurt out before she can finish her sentence. To your defense, you already knew what she was going to say. Letting her finish would just drag this out longer.

“Capes?” She asks again. You nod and lean forward. Tony picked the name for you. It was simple yet mysterious. Most people think of somebody wearing a cape, who can fly, and is strong. Yes, someone like Superman. This was your disguise: making people think of your abilities as something completely else and not letting them know. This way, they could assume all they want, and never find out your true abilities.

“So, you’re...an avenger?”

“No, well yes, but actually no,” you shake your head and go on,” I fight with P- uh Spider-Man, but we do talk with the avengers and meet them,” you explain.

“And what exactly does this have to do with our relationship? I might have skipped something, but, why did you break up? Because you’re a superhero?”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point.” You shyly smile at her.

“Tony told me about the danger Pepper was in and-”

“Tony Stark?” Her eyes go wide as she clutches the blanket on her stronger. You nod, again.

“Yes, Tony Stark. The internship, remember?” You remind her. You had told her about having an internship with Peter at Stark’s. She supported you through it, always motivating you to do better. She nods and lets you continue.

“Tony told me about the danger Pepper, his wife, had and still has to go through. With the world knowing he’s Iron Man and who he’s married to, they could take her any time or do something to hurt him. I- I didn’t want this to happen to us. It reminded me of you,” you whisper.

“But I guess me not telling you and lying just got you in more danger.” You let out a breathy sad laugh. Her eyes soften when she understands.

Her hand rests limp by her side. You dared to take it and lace your fingers with hers. She glances down to them and back up to you, squeezing your hand lightly and sending you a light smile.

“I- I never knew…” “How? I never told you. I don’t want you to feel bad, it wasn’t your fault. I lied to you. All the times I stayed over at the library? I was on patrol. That one time I told you I was sick? Tony had called me in to try on a new suit. I’m sorry,” you apologize, looking at her with sad eyes.

“I know it wasn’t my fault. It’s just...I never would’ve thought you were the one fighting alongside Peter or that you actually went and saved a little girl and her cat from a fire, instead of arriving to our date on time.”

“Yeah, I know and-” You stop yourself. “What? Peter? What, no,” you laugh nervously, shaking your head repeatedly. How does she know?

“Don’t worry, it didn’t take me that long to find out. At first, I thought you were cheating everytime you and him left at the same time or skipped class together. It hurt, you know? But, after being sceptical for a long time I had enough.” You frown, a pang in your chest at the thought of her thinking you were cheating. You would never, she meant anything to you. Never in a million years would you think about trading her as if she was nothing just for something like a hookup.

“I followed you once and you ran into this, really dark and smelly alley, with Peter behind you,” she whispers. Your heart breaks. “Em, I’d never. I promise, you mean so much to me and I’d never trade what we have for anything else. I regret this so much. I’m so, so fucking sorry. Please,” you whisper and shuffle your chair closer to the bed. Your left hand rests against her cheek, wiping the tear escaping her eyes.

“Are you- Are you still mad?” You ask. “You have every right to be mad, I’m sorry. But I told you my secret and I have to know if you don’t tell anyone because even if we stay apart now, you’d still be in danger if people found out we dated,” you rant and look behind her out the window to calm down.

“Shut up,” she whispers as she comes closer to you, and you scoot closer, too, making it easier for her.

“What do-” She pulls you closer, resting her forehead against yours and breathes in. “I said, shut up,” she murmurs against your lips and pulls you in, pressing her lips against yours and grabs the back of your neck. Your eyes open wide with surprise before flattering close slowly, getting used to the kiss.

She pulls you closer by the neck, her soft lips moving against yours smoothly. You can hear your heartbeat thud with excitement in your own ears. This wasn’t the first time she had kissed you, but you still need to get used to her lips pressed against yours. Your noses bumps against each other, making you pull away awkwardly and look at her rosy cheeks

“Oh.” You turn around to look at the door, Peter and Ned standing there.

“I think this means you guys are good?” You turn back to look at Mj, her loving eyes already staring back at you. You quickly look down, flustered under her gaze.

“Yeah,” you respond and squeeze her hand three times. It was your secret way of saying ‘I love you’ before you came out to the others and were left to say goodbye in front of them.

Peter and Ned sat down on a chair and high fived each other, happy for their two best friends being back together. She looks at you. “Does Ned know?” She whispers your way, only you can hear her. You are taken by surprise. You didn’t expect her to mention your secrets in front of him. “Yeah, he does.”

“By the way, Peter,” She starts. He lifts his head and looks back at her, nodding. “How was it being recruited by Iron Man himself? Fought alongside Thor, yet?” She winks at him. He blushes and snaps his eyes to you, asking why she knows.

“I didn’t tell her:” You shrug and look back at her. “She’s just smart, y’know,” you add.

“Dude!”

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feedbach is appreciated シ

[capisback]

hiii ! just curious, being a fan of languages aren't there times where you don't have the motivation to study or anything? idk do you have like, tips or something to help ? ive been trying to learn some languages on the side for some time now and ive been stuck there for awhile (ack srry if this is off topic)

First of all, so sorry for the late reply! And thank you for the ask! <3

Disclaimer here, I've only ever studied one language and that was full-time for school. I'm by no means an expert on this, but I'll try my best to help you out!

I think it's important to create a routine and/or to make learning fun.

An example for this would be, let's say, if you have a language buddy that you are doing a language exchange with, you each pick three words to learn that day and at any random time they can ask you what one of these words means (how to say it in your target language or what the target language word means), and the next day you pick three new words. It's a fun and engaging way to try and learn vocabulary, and doesn't feel like an insurmountable hurdle to overcome.

For routine making, there's quite a few videos out there on youtube, but I think you should keep in mind how you learn best and at what point things start to get overwhelming for you and make it hard to start. Since my routine was all-day based, I can't completely say what the best way to make a routine for on-the-side based language learning is. I would say pick something small and do it daily at a certain time and make it a habit.

Decide on your resources and stick to them. Instead of trying to go all over the place trying to find the best ways to study and distracting yourself, make a list of resources you think are best for you and use them. If something really isn't working out, you can discard it, but something I wasted a lot of time on and that drained my motivation was that I just kept trying to look for the best way to study and what thousands of different resources were good to use. I'd also recommend paper-based resources, or resources that aren't online at least, since computers and the internet give you the opportunity for distraction and makes the attention wane.

Set a goal and try to meet it. It doesn't have to be anything big like "I want to have a fluent conversation with a native speaker", though you can do that if you want to, in long-term goals, but I think short-term goals are also very important for motivation. Something like, being able to read a fairy tale, or knowing all the names of household appliances by a certain date. It can be anything at all, as long as it doesn't feel overwhelming and gets you motivated. It can range from daily, to weekly, to monthly, to bimonthly, whatever works for you. It also helps to remember why you're learning the language and holding onto that.

All in all, I think language learning can definitely get boring sometimes, especially when you're starting out, because you're laying down the groundwork, there isn't really anything in there for you to have fun with or learn through something that specifically interests you. But that doesn't mean the method can't be fun or engaging!

I learned my French by first of learning a ton of basic words. Because, however boring learning words is, it's the one thing you need to start out, because otherwise you won't understand what your grammar lessons mean and you'll feel all the more stuck if you try to move forward. (My brother learned by using a site where you had to fill in the words and it gave you a score on how well you knew everything, making it a bit competitive and like a game, which worked well for him!) I also learned basic conjugations together with my vocabulary (because verbs are words, too! You just need to know how to twist them into certain Times) until I knew all ones in all the times I needed for my exam. First started with knowing how to conjugate all those verbs in the Simple Present, then Simple Past, etc.

Once you know the basics, you can move on to things that may be more complicated but are more fun! I learned a lot from translating from English to French. It helped me get natural sentence structure down, and I had a lot of fun with it! I also like to read, so that's something I did as well (Don't try to start out too complicated, and don't bother trying to write down every word you don't understand! That's a definite motivation drainer. Try to learn through context and if you really can't figure it out, you can look it up. Try to do it in bite-sized pieces, too, like a page per day or something). However, if you like watching movies more, you could do that! I heard Netflix, if you have that, has an extension specifically for language learners, which could help you learn naturally while doing something you enjoy (I think this is especially useful to do if you feel the learning is becoming tedious). I personally watched a cartoon I really liked and knew well, dubbed in French. It's useful if you have subtitles, too, but the thing I liked about cartoons was that the language was simpler, because it was more aimed at kids. Don't be afraid to pause and rewind! And you don't have to watch things in one sitting, either, if it's too much. Just do ten minutes or something and watch another ten the next day.

I think that's about it for the tips I have. I hope this helps! If you want me to clarify something or give more examples, please don't be afraid to ask!

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 5!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Tim growled as he kept searching. There were no messages sent from Paris in the last five years in the League’s database. There weren’t any mention of a Hawkmoth, a Ladybug, or a Chat Noir in any news site. As far as he could tell, the girl had been lying to him almost entirely.

Except that she was Damian’s soulmate. And there was no faking the sheer exhaustion in her eyes when she spoke about Paris being besieged for the last four years.

And his gut was telling him to keep looking.

After an hour, and switching his location so he appeared to be operating out of France, he finally found two leads- one, a juvenile blog that had some questionable information interspersed with straight up tabloid trash, and the other an app, which he eagerly downloaded to his phone, waiting.

Finally the app popped up, showing a little Ladybug icon, and he clicked it. LadyBugOut! Sprung to life on his screen, and he perused the small icons. Small and stylized animals, a ladybug, a black cat, a bee, a turtle, a fox, a snake, a dragon, a peacock, and a butterfly. From what he remembered of his chat with Marinette, one of the heroes was Ladybug, so he clicked it.

It showed him a long line of posts, mostly videos. The girl in them was short, with dark blue-black hair and bright blue eyes, and a glaringly red and black spotted suit and mask.

“Salut, Paris! Back again with an update and a few things to address regarding the recent akuma, Lady Silence.”

He flicked to the next one.

“Salut, Paris, I’m here with Reine Abeille today,” the camera moves to another hero in yellow and black, blond hair in a high bun as opposed to Ladybug’s pigtails. “You’ve all sent in quite a few questions, and we wanted to take the time to respond today!”

“Salut, Paris! Just a quick update, I know many of you have been wondering about the recent addition to our team, Viperion.”

“Salut, Paris. I’d like to start this video with a moment of silence and recognition for the 73 lives lost in the recent attack by-“

Tim pauses it. A team of four, possibly more heroes? Perhaps nine to match the icons? A publicly revered and loved hero, to the point where she does question and answers with them. A villain that caused a death toll of seventy three people less than a month ago.

How in the world could they have missed this?

“By Evilutionist. We ask that if you know one of these victims you reach out to them and offer a hand, a hug, or even just a smile as they go about their days.”

He leant back in his chair, bewildered. Lives lost, but still there to be comforted, and going about their lives?

He got up to go find another cup of coffee. He was starting to understand how long his night was going to be.

Before he started watching through the whole long list of posts, he checked the other tabs. The black cat had a map that was currently inactive, but also logs of past maps detailing a red line, a purple line, and a larger area shaded in grey. They were labeled accordingly, Ladybug’s Path, Akuma’s Path, and Area of Attack/Destruction.

There were hundreds of maps logged.

The Bee contained large organized lists of homes and businesses that had registered as safe shelters during akuma attacks, a compilation of helplines and websites where you could learn more about staying safe during an attack, how to stay prepared and aware, and what necessities to keep stocked in cases of longer term akuma attacks.

The Fox seemed open to the public, where they could present their own posts alongside Ladybug’s about good, happy things.

The Turtle was a series of videos and posts about relaxation, meditation, coping, and self-care that could build the emotional strength to resist akumas.

The Dragon was a series of videos featuring another superhero- he assumed it was the Dragon themed one- and Ladybug, demonstrating self defense techniques and other strategies for avoiding, outrunning, fighting, or otherwise protecting yourself from akumas.

The Snake was, to his surprise, just a series of playlists, seemingly cultivated by each hero.

The Peacock held another map, also inactive, until the app chimed loudly. As he watched, a notification popped up, similar to an Emergency Alert System notification, that said in all capitals, AKUMA ATTACK.

He pressed the X on it, and watched as the Black Cat symbol seemed to glow green. He switched back, and the map was now accessible, a purple dot glowing near the Eiffel Tower. It started moving, and the shaded grey filled in around it, following the dot. He turned back to his computer and started searching frantically for some sort of news coverage. After a minute, he found a Facebook profile and opened it, and someone’s livestream was rolling.

He looked back at his phone to see that the red Ladybug dot had appeared near the edge of the grey, closing in on the purple dot. The livestream drew him back. It showed an apartment view of the Seine, and the road of broken detritus that trailed behind the akuma’s path.

“-Quel connard ne passe pas une bonne nuit alors, je suppose, mais honnêtement, cela ne devrait pas être mon problème.” The camera flipped to the face of a tired woman. “J’ai du travail en quatre heures et je ne me suis endormi que trois heures plus tôt, mais un trou du cul supersonique fait voler en éclats les fenêtres de gauche et de droite.” The camera flipped again, showing not the view but the clearly broken window. “Baise ça, mec, j'essaye de DORMIR,”

-some asshole isnt having a good night then, i guess, but honestly that shouldnt be my problem. ive got work in four hours and i only fell asleep three hours ago but some supersonic asshole is shattering windows left and right. fuck this, dude, im trying to SLEEP,

The feed went silent as the akuma lunged back into view down by the water. It was a large red woman, with wires that sprouted from her and trailed along like muscles, enhancing what seemed to be the speakers that her body was made of.

He could see her open her mouth and roar, right as a smaller red figure bounded in, dodging the concentrated sound blast and grabbing something from around her neck and snapping it in half.

The woman on the street reverted in a flash of light to a more normal appearance, and Tim watched awestruck as Ladybug tossed her yo-yo into the air and shouted something.

The wave of light that spread outward was dazzling, lighting up Paris’ night sky. In front of the camera, as the light washed over the holder, their window was suddenly whole and unbroken again. The street beneath was clean.

“Merci, Ladybug,” the tired narrator muttered. “Bonne nuit.”

The camera shut off.

Tim stared, awestruck.

“She fixes it all,” he breathed. “That’s why she was talking about people being alive after they die, they come back to life. She fixes all the damage. It probably destroys most records of the damage as well.”

The app was accessible because of her direct part in making it, he would assume. He saved the video.

Time to get Bruce.

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[roman-writing]

no great revelation (4/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,057

Summary: Jamie  just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian  Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught  up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

IV:

—

“I owe you a favour?” Rebecca said, and her voice sounded amused. “Is that how we’re remembering it?”

“Yup. After that fiasco you put me through in that club on Nar Shaddaa.”

The sound of an incredulous huff of laughter came through the cracked speakers of the transceiver in a staticky burst. “What is it this time?”

“Nothing special,” said Jamie. “In fact, it’s even a little boring.”

“You? Boring?” 

“I like boring.”

“Pull the other one.”

“More boring than last time, then.” 

“Last time you had me move three hundred freed Twi’lek slaves from Hutt space and back to their home planets.”

“And they’ve been singing your praises ever since. I know that for a fact, because one family sent me a holo-card which showed that party you went to where they made you godmother of their newborn child.” 

“Oh! That reminds me,” Rebecca said, sounding suddenly excited. “Do you want to see the latest pictures of the kid? He’s four and adorable.” 

“That had better be a rhetorical question,” Jamie drawled.

“So, that’s a no?”

“Shut up and send me the pictures to my personal transceiver when I see you.” 

Rebecca’s laugh was infectious. Always had been. A smile pulled at the corner of Jamie’s mouth in spite of herself. The Jawas had crowded off to the other end of the tiny room, talking amongst themselves while Jamie used their transceiver. On the other hand Dani drifted closer, hovering just out of range of the transceiver’s camera, which — along with the microphone and speakers — seemed to be the only thing about it that actually functioned properly. 

“It’s been too long,” Rebecca was saying. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

“So, you’ll do me the favour?” 

“You know I hate moving people,” Rebecca sighed. “Pressurising the cargo hold is so expensive.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“Always is with you.”

"It's not like that."

"Sure it isn't." Rebecca said, then groaned. "Why can't you ever ask me to run something normal? Like food? Or weapons?"

"I asked you to run those emergency rations to Taris that one time."

"The planet was being blockaded by the Empire!"

"And you snuck through like a ghost," Jamie said. "I've never seen anything like it in all my years."

"Flatterer."

"Fuckin' right I am. Is it working?"

A sigh down the other line. "All right. How many people is it this time?"

Jamie opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak Dani came into frame and sat beside Jamie with a wave towards the camera.

"Hi," she said with as much false cheer as she could muster. "Just me. Dani Clayton. Nice to meet you."

Silence on the other end. Jamie really wished this piece of crap transceiver had a working screen of its own so she could gauge Rebecca's reaction. As it was: the silence didn't seem like a good start.

“I see,” Rebecca said slowly. “Jamie, you always did have a soft spot for a pretty face.”

Heat flushed all the way up to Jamie’s hairline. “That’s not -!” she said, then turned to Dani and insisted, “It’s not.”

Dani did not answer. Her own cheeks were pink and she was studiously avoiding Jamie’s gaze, watching the broken monitor instead where Rebecca’s face should have been displayed. 

Rebecca — damn her — was the one who spoke next. "And where are you from, Dani?"

"Alderaan," Dani said at the same time Jamie hissed, "Don't answer that."

Dani shot Jamie a puzzled look and lowered her voice, “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are, but -” 

“No whispering,” said Rebecca through the crackling speakers in a sing-song voice. “If you’re talking about me, at least let me hear the juicy gossip.”

Rather than continue down that vein, Jamie corrected course. “We need to get to Tython. We’re on a transport through the Hydian Way to Coruscant, but we’ve got some undesirables on our tail. Think you can help?”

Rebecca gave a thoughtful hum. “You know I’m not a Core World girl. Not my speciality.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate.” 

“Next time,” Rebecca said in a dry tone, “just call me for drinks and a laugh.” 

“First round’s on me,” Jamie promised with a grin. 

The sound of tapping down the line and a series of beeps as Rebecca did something with her ship’s computer. “I’m picking up your signal from hyperspace just past Bandomeer. I won’t be able to meet up with your transport until you come out of hyperspace for a stop over at Corsin tomorrow afternoon. Think you can survive that long?” 

Leaning back, Jamie exhaled a long relieved breath, her shoulders slumping. “It’ll have to do. Thanks, Becs. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.”

And just like that, the call ended. No fanfare. No goodbyes. That’s how it always was with her — touch and go. Probably why the two of them got along so well, Jamie thought. Not many people could go without exchanging a single word for four years and then pick up where they’d left off as if no time had passed at all. 

Jamie pushed the transceiver away. Dani was watching her with a curious tilt of her head so that a lock of her hair was curled along the column of her neck in a way that made Jamie want to reach out and card her fingers through her hair. 

“She seems nice,” Dani said.

“It’s complicated.”

Understanding lit up in Dani’s mismatched eyes. “Ah.” 

“Not like that,” Jamie said quickly. “We never - I just meant that she’s complicated. For a smuggler like Rebecca, trust is its own currency. And now I owe her a very big favour.” 

Dani nodded but didn’t comment further. She had turned her attention back to the huddle of Jawas, listening to them quibble and murmur together. “As much as I like them,” she said, “I don’t think we can hide here for a full day without imposing.”

That and Jamie could not imagine trying to sleep in a pile with a bunch of Jawas. She made a face at the very thought. It was cramped with two people in one of these rooms. Let alone eleven. Even if the other nine were less than a meter in height and smelled of damp womprat. 

“Please tell me the alternative doesn’t involve the garbage chute,” Dani said. 

 --

The alternative only partially involved the garbage chute. And even then, they only had to use it once to ferry their way up to the mid decks when their transport dropped out of hyperspace and docked at Corsin. Jamie kept checking over her shoulder for sign of the Jedi and the Troopers as she and Dani snuck off the transport with a crowd of others. She did not relax even as they stepped free of the transport and into the hangar bays of Corsin.

The arched transparisteel ceiling was a void of star-speckled ink viewing out into space, and far below the planet was a marble of blue oceans and green islands, white tufts of cloud drifting across its surface. 

“It looks beautiful,” said Dani, pausing to wistfully admire the planet below. 

“It looks unaffordable,” Jamie replied, not sparing it a glance and instead standing up on her toes, craning her neck to get a better look around the hangar. 

“Reminds me of Alderaan.” 

It was said almost softly enough that Jamie couldn’t hear it. Jamie stopped her search and turned back to Dani, who was still staring longingly out the windows. Hesitating for a second, Jamie curled her fingers around Dani’s hand. Startled, Dani blinked at her.

Jamie offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “C’mon,” she said, and gave Dani’s hand a tug. 

Dani did not pull her hand away as Jamie pulled her along further into the hangar in search of their ticket out of this mess. She linked their fingers together and held on tight, her hand cold; Dani was always cold. Jamie needed to think about buying her a set of thermals. 

Pushing through the crowd, they made their way from various bay to various bay. Other passengers who knew their destinations went straight to the cruiser that would ferry them down to the planet below. Most of them wore enough Ottegan silk to last Jamie a year if she sold it on the black market, no questions asked. This was not a planet for people like them, and a few security droids around the place had started to take notice of that fact. Jamie was constructing an elaborate lie in her head about how they were janitorial staff, when she finally saw her. 

Rebecca was standing before a side bay with her hand resting easily on the holster of her blaster pistol. She looked just as Jamie remembered. All in smart and durable beige and black, the cut of her clothes fashionable in a rakish sort of way but unafraid of hard labour. Her dark hair was longer and was bound in a long plait over one shoulder. And her dark skin was slightly darker, too — she must have been visiting a sunny planet lately. Letting go of Dani’s hand and striding forward with a broad smile, Jamie caught her in a fierce warm hug.

“God, but it’s good to see you again,” Jamie said. 

Only one of Rebecca’s hands came up to rest against Jamie’s back to return the hug. When she pulled back slightly her smile had an oddly sad slant, and she murmured, “I really am sorry for this, Jamie.” 

Jamie blinked, her face falling. “What -?” 

Before she could move, Rebecca’s other hand came up and pressed something to Jamie’s flank. A flash of something like fire rippled through Jamie’s body, and then she slumped forwards into Rebecca’s arms, the world spinning and going dark. 

 --

When Jamie came to, she had a splitting headache and her side felt like it had been kicked by a very large very angry animal. She winced and slowly sat up with a groan. Blinking muzzily, she took inventory of her surroundings. Just a small room sheathed in dark metal panels from floor to ceiling, complete with the only door blocked by yellow plasma beam bars, and a Czerka logo stamped into one of the panels on the hallway outside. 

And worst of all: no Dani in sight.

Great. Alone in the brig of a Czerka ship. And given her shit luck, Jamie had an inkling of exactly whose ship this belonged to as well. 

“Fuck,” she said, lingering emphatically over every aspect of the word. 

She had been placed along a bench in the cell, and now she dragged her sorry carcass into the corner so that she could prop her legs atop the bench and lean her head back against the wall. When the world finally stopped trying to tilt with every sluggish beat of her heart, Jamie patted herself down. 

No mining laser, of course. That would’ve been the first thing they stripped off of her. No credit chits in her pocket. No multitools that she always kept on her person in case she ever needed to disassemble some machinery at work. The dogtags were still around her neck at least. At least if she died, whoever found her would be able to identify her body and return it to Tython or wherever the fuck nobodies like her in The Order went after death. Small miracles. 

Nothing for it, then. She staggered upright and went to use the loo. When she’d finished, she returned to her place on the bench and thought about how fucked she was. 

She’d been in plenty of bad scrapes in her time, but this was taking the coveted position of ‘Worst Hole Ever Dug by Jamie Taylor — May the Force Be With Her.’

A door opened in the near distance, then another, followed by quick footsteps. Jamie frowned at the hallway, waiting for some Czerka pillock to come take her away and shove her out an airlock. Instead Rebecca came into swift view.

"Here," she said, sliding Jamie's handheld mining laser along the floor through the bars, then began trying to pry a section of the wall away from the hallway in order to reveal a nest of wires leading to the control panel. "I've disabled the alarms and cameras for the brig, but we don't have much time. There's a cruiser docked in bay three. It has a hyperdrive and enough rations to get you to wherever you need to go. The Czerka fleet won't fire upon it so long as you're quick and you don't let them figure out it's you."

Jamie did not move. Teeth clenched, she crossed her arms and glowered at the opposite wall. 

"Jamie -"

"Nope," Jamie said, jaw taut, refusing to even look in her direction.

"Listen to me," Rebecca gave up on hacking the control panel. She tried to move into Jamie's line of sight but Jamie kept turning her head aside. "There is more to this than what it appears. I know about the infiltration of House Thul. I know about the -"

"I don't care about what you know,” Jamie cut her off.  "If you think I'll listen to another word out of your mouth, then you've got another thing coming."

"I'm trying to make sure I can get you out of here alive, you thick-headed Rim-Rat!" Rebecca snapped.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

With a bitter laugh, Rebecca leaned against the frame of the cell, careful to not touch the plasma beam bars. “That’s rich, knowing your history. I’ve never met a person who gets into more trouble than you.”

Jamie put on her best sneer and asked, "What's Quint got over you this time, then? Eh?"

Rebecca shook her head and looked away with an incredulous noise, hands on her hips. "It's not like that."

"Like hell it's not," Jamie growled. "All that time you spent outwitting the Empire, and now this? He is Imperial through and through."

"I know exactly what Peter is."

"Yeah. A piece of shit, who'd sell his mother if it means saving his own sorry hide." 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rebecca said and her voice was low. She darted her eyes down the hall, as if watching for any potential eavesdroppers. “And you are in far deeper shit than you could possibly understand. That woman you’re with -”

Sitting up straighter, Jamie swung her legs over the side of the bench and onto the ground, suddenly alert. “Where is she?” 

Rebecca fixed her with a serious expression. Rather than answer, she said, “She’s dangerous.” 

“She’s scared,” Jamie corrected. 

“Which is quite possibly the worst thing for her to be.”

Rising to her feet, Jamie glowered through the plasma bars. Her voice was pure venom. “If you had just helped me get her to Tython, then I could’ve gotten her proper training.”

“The Order won’t take her.”

Jamie had to stop herself from striking out at the bars, even knowing they would give her burns all across her skin. “You know fuck all about The Order!” she snarled, pointing at Rebecca’s infuriatingly calm face through the bars. 

In the distance a door opened with a hiss of pressurized air. Both Jamie and Rebecca tensed and looked over in that direction. Or, well, Jamie tried to look but the view from the cell was pretty limited, all things considered. She'd had better views from the brigs of far less fancy ships than this.

Footsteps approached. Turning back, Rebecca lowered her voice and said in a rush, "Jamie, listen to me for once in your life. You are my friend, and I am going to get you out of this, but you have to do what I say."

Jamie shook her head. "No. Not without her."

Swearing fluently under her breath, Rebecca slammed the section of wall back into place to hide her attempted tampering. She’d only just managed to get everything in place and turn around, when no less than four Czerka guards in green and gold livery marched into sight. All of them were holding blaster rifles and were armoured to boot. They weren’t walking military-grade arsenals like the Republic Troopers from the transport, but they still weren’t people Jamie wanted to fuck with unless she had some serious firepower at her back. Hastily Jamie hid her mining laser in one of her bulky pockets, praying they wouldn’t pat her down. 

“You shouldn’t be down here,” one of them said to Rebecca. 

Rebecca pointed to a corner of the ceiling. “I noticed the cameras were down and came to investigate in case the prisoner managed to escape.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, then stomped past her to key in a code into the control panel leading to Jamie’s cell. “Next time, alert one of us instead.” 

The plasma bars fizzed out of existence. The leader of this particular pillock squad made a sharp motion to the others, and two of them marched forward, grabbed Jamie by the shoulders, and hauled her upright. 

“Easy does it, lads,” Jamie grumbled. “Could’ve just asked.”

One of them clipped her on the back of the head with his gauntleted fist. “Quiet.” 

After they yanked her hands behind her back and clipped a set of handcuffs around her wrists, they marched her out of the cell. Jamie gave Rebecca the dirtiest glare she possibly could, and Rebecca just rolled her eyes in response, trailing after the group. Two sets of hands remained firm around Jamie’s upper arms as they walked, guiding her further into the depths of the ship. 

When they all crowded into an elevator together, doors sliding shut behind them, a cheerful cantina tune began to play. 

“So,” Jamie ventured. “Don’t suppose anyone’s got a light?” 

No answer. From the corner of her vision, Jamie could just make out Rebecca biting back an ill-timed smile in the back of the elevator. Or maybe she was trying to stop herself from screaming in frustration. Difficult to tell from this angle. 

“Just trying to be neighbourly,” Jamie grumbled.

“Shut up,” said one of the guards whose fingers dug into her arm. 

A light dinged, the music stopped, and the elevator doors opened with a hiss. Jamie couldn’t see beyond the massive frame of the two guards standing in front of her, but soon the four of them were flanking her as they all moved forward, leading her onto the bridge of what appeared to be Peter Quint’s flagship. 

Or at least, that was what Jamie assumed. And given that Peter Quint was standing at the head of the bridge, she reckoned she wasn’t too far off the mark. 

His hands were clasped behind his back and he faced away, looking out through the transparisteel windows at the sleek fore of the ship pointing into space, surrounded by a veritable fleet of other vessels that looked like they were on direct loan from the Empire. The long hems of Peter’s dark coat brushed his ankles, but he did not turn around or indeed take any notice of the new arrivals. In fact, he seemed engaged in deep conversation with someone whom Jamie could not see. The light glinted off one of his hands, the metal dark of his cybernetic limb dark. If Jamie hadn’t been looking for it, she might have mistaken it for a glove of some sort. 

The bridge split into three segments, the centre being command ending in a . Two of the guards veered off to the left, while another marched straight forward to address Peter. The last kept a firm hold of Jamie’s arm and hauled her off to the right, circling around while Rebecca trailed behind them, silent. As they went, Jamie got a better view of exactly who Peter was talking to, and she started.

“Dani -” 

The guard yanked at Jamie’s arm to keep her on course, and the three of them stopped at the head of the right wing, separated from command by a pit sunk into the floor, where engineers and pilots and God only knows who else toiled away pressing buttons or something. Jamie had no idea what was required to run a ship this size. Armed men, apparently, for that constituted the majority of people on the bridge. Guards at the doors. Guards at the helm. Guards along the walls.

Dani’s wrists weren’t bound with handcuffs, but she was kneeling on the ground as if she’d fallen there, and her cheek bore a bruise that was already starting to go purple. Her shoulders were hunched around her ears, and she was leaning away from Peter. When Jamie had spoken, Dani’s eyes flicked in her direction then widened. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but snapped it shut once more, wringing her hands together in her lap. She was not wearing the lightsabre anywhere on her person. 

Peter had tilted his head to listen to whatever report the guard was delivering to him. He nodded and the guard went away with a sharp salute. And then he turned to look at Jamie. 

“Jamie,” he said, “It’s been a minute.”

“Yeah, not nearly enough,” Jamie muttered. 

The guard cuffed her again. Not enough to bruise, but enough to sting. On the other side of her, Jamie saw Rebecca’s hand tighten into a fist. 

If Peter seemed at all troubled by this exchange, he did not show it. “You’ve led us on a bit of a merry chase, you know. Could’ve saved me the trouble and just let me have her back on Telos IV.” 

Nodding towards Dani, Jamie said, "Since when do you care about dead Jedi? Or bounties for that matter? You’re rolling in credits."

Peter let out a bark of laughter. "About - what?" He looked down at Dani, saw the stricken expression on her face, and then he smiled that sickly sweet smile of his. "Oh, I see."

Dani did not move. She did not speak.

When Peter continued speaking, it was not to Jamie. “No, it’s not credits I’m after. Or Jedi. But you know that. Don’t you, darling?” He crouched down before Dani, who shrank back from him. His voice was soft when he said, "You know what I want. Just give it back, love, and you can be on your way. I'll even give you your own personal escort back to Alderaan with enough credits to drown yourself in. How does that sound?"

Dani blinked up at him in surprise. Then her eyes darted in Jamie's direction.

Peter followed her gaze, and Jamie wanted to burn the smirk off his smug fucking face. "Ah, no," he said, turning back to Dani. "I'm afraid that one stays with me."

Dani licked at her lips and straightened her shoulders. "You let her go, or I won’t give it to you."

From this angle Jamie couldn't see the expression on Peter's face. His broad shoulders held a barely restrained tension, as though on the cusp of explosive movement. And when he spoke, even the gentle softness of his voice was a lie, "Very well. You have my word."

Don't, Jamie wanted to shout in warning. Don't do it.

Slowly, Dani reached into her cloak and unpicked a section of the lining, revealing a makeshift hidden pocket. She rummaged around then pulled something out and set it on the floor. Jamie strained to get a better look. Her captor kneed her roughly in the back for her trouble, and she would've gone face first into the ground if not for the hand in her hair yanking her back so that she remained upright.

It didn't stop her from catching a glimpse of what was being exchanged, however. Shards of metal, black gold. All in pieces, like a disassembled puzzle.

Peter was silent. He stared down at the pieces Dani had placed at his feet. Then in a smooth motion he stood, pushing himself upright to loom over her. 

"Do you think this is funny?" he asked in that too quiet, too dangerous tone.

Eyes wide, Dani shook her head. "No, I -"

Peter kicked the pieces away with a vicious swipe of his foot, and Dani flinched back with a startled cry. He darted forward and seized a handful of her cloak.

"Where is it?" he snarled.

"That's - That's all I have! The box fell apart after I touched it, I swear!"

Peter's hand tightened around the fabric, pulling up so that Dani was held slightly off the ground by the scruff of her neck, her feet scrambling for purchase on the metal flooring. "Box?" he repeated. "I'm not asking about a fucking toy box! Where is the holocron?"

"The -? The what?"

With a vicious curse, he threw her back onto the ground. Dani caught herself on her hands with a hiss of pain, and she flinched back when Peter began to circle her. 

"Don't play dumb," he said. "You know what I'm after."

"I don't -"

"You think I'm fucking blind? You think a piece of shit nobody from a backwater in Alderaan can kill a Jedi? You think you just woke up one day with powers?" He stalked around her, his expression a mask of fury. "You are nothing. You are nobody. You're not Force sensitive. You're a puppet. Just a piece of meat to house something greater, and you don't even fucking know it!"

The deck fell silent but for the beep of electronics, the rustle of fabric as pilots kept the ship on course. Jamie darted a look towards Rebecca, but her face was carefully blank and guarded, her thumb hooked through the belt of her blaster pistol in a way that Jamie knew meant she was actually nervous about something. None of which boded well.

“I was so close,” Peter was saying, and he didn’t even seem to be talking to Dani anymore. His words were a ranting mutter, wrathful and desperate. The metal of his robotic arm clicked in a menacing fashion every time he clenched his hand into a rhythmic fist. “This was it. This was my last run. The last deed I’d ever have to do for those evil cocksuckers on Dromund Kaas. Plant a holocron and be done with it. Be free of the Empire forever. Until you -”

His voice trailed off and his steps slowed to a halt. In the muddy light of the bridge, he was a faceless silhouette. He clenched his metal fist so tightly that it creaked and sparked. Dani shivered on the ground at his feet, her shoulders hunched, as though she were trying to make herself small enough to disappear. 

“You went snooping. You took something that didn’t belong to you. And I need it back. No matter the price.” In a swift movement, Peter crouched down on his haunches again. Dani flinched back, but Peter merely watched her for a long and uncomfortable moment before he continued, “So, what’s it going to be?”

From where she stood, Jamie could just make out the defiant set of Dani’s jaw. 

Sighing, Peter reached out and tucked a stray curl of hair behind Dani’s ear, while Dani sat, frozen in place. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like hurting people,” he said. “Always the worst way of going about it. And, you know, it just doesn’t work as well as you’d think. So, tell me. What’s your price? Hmm? What do I have to do to get you to talk?” 

When again Dani did not answer, Peter withdrew his hand. “Normally I’m a patient man, but as we live and breathe, there’s a Dark Lord of the Sith coming our way. If you don’t deal with me, then you’ll be dealing with him. And I assure you: you want to be dealing with me instead.” 

Licking her lips, Dani said, “I already told you everything I know.” 

“Well, that is disappointing.”

Jamie tried to shift her feet slightly so she could get a better angle on the rest of the bridge, but the guard behind her kicked her in the back of the knee. When she went down with a grunt of pain, her knee slamming into the ground, the guard then yanked her back up by the handcuffs behind her with enough force she felt her arm sockets complain. 

“Get up,” the guard growled, and Jamie shot him a look that should have dropped him on the spot. 

The brief commotion drew Peter and Dani’s attention back in this direction. Peter pushed himself upright and turned, while Dani’s panicked gaze moved from him to Jamie and back again. 

“Or maybe I’m going about this the wrong way,” Peter murmured. He walked slowly across the bridge towards Jamie.  

“Even if I did know something, you and I both know I’d rather cut out my own tongue than tell you,” Jamie spat. The guard tightened his hold on her handcuffs, but she pinned him in place with a fierce glare and said, “Touch me again, and I’ll end you, mate.” 

Peter held up his hand before the guard could react. When Jamie faced him once more, Peter was close enough that she could see the thin scar on his cheek. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been the one to give it to him. She didn’t know where in his sordid past he’d gotten it. 

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile that never touched his eyes. “Oh, Jamie. I never thought you actually knew something. You’re much too simple to get sensible answers before leaping to a lost cause.” 

In spite of herself, Jamie’s gaze darted to Dani who was watching their interaction with naked dread. 

Peter followed her gaze and grinned. “Aye,” he said. “That’s the one.” 

And without further ado, he drew his blaster pistol, pointed it at Jamie, and shot her. The smell of burnt flesh was an afterthought to the blinding pain that sent her vision white. Jamie staggered, keeling slowly over the charred wound low in her abdomen just above her hip. Something cold was pressed against her face, and it was with a blurred realisation that Jamie found herself lying on the floor. She blinked through the muzzy borders of her vision, trying to move and only managing to gurgle weakly. 

Right. Bad idea, that. 

At least blaster fire didn’t allow for my bleeding. Mass internal burn trauma, yes, but she wasn’t about to bleed out on the floor. Every breath was a sharp lance through Jamie’s stomach. She pushed herself into a crouch on all fours, registering the commotion around her as if experiencing it through water. 

“ - Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare -!” 

“Peter, killing her gets you nothing. You should -”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Becs! I won’t be taking orders ever again! Not from you, and especially not from the Empire!”

“Then get what you need, but Jamie doesn’t have it. And neither, it seems, does she.” 

Three sets of boots surrounded her. The guard beside her, and Rebecca standing between her and Peter. As Jamie tilted her head up, Peter started to stalk away. His footsteps were loud against the metal grating of the floor, and he dropped heavily into the captain’s chair at the head of the bridge. He had holstered his pistol and now he reached down to pick up something that had been propped up against the base of the chair. 

He pressed a button, and the lightsabre leapt to life. The blue light scattered across his face. “The holocron isn’t on Alderaan,” Peter said. “We did a very thorough check. Which means you -” he pointed the lightsabre at Dani, who was now standing at the centre of the bridge facing him, “- must have left it somewhere between there and Telos IV.” 

Dani’s expression was dark, her hands were trembling fists at her side. 

With a sigh, Peter sheathed the lightsabre and set it on the arm of his chair. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs so that his ankle was propped on his opposite knee. Addressing the guard beside Jamie, he said, “Rebecca’s right Jamie doesn’t know anything of use. Take her to the lower decks and throw her out the airlock.” 

The guard did not even say an affirmative. He simply hauled Jamie to her feet, and began dragging her back towards the exit despite Rebecca’s protests. 

“Leave her alone.” 

There was something wrong with Dani’s voice. An odd burr, a hard quality that did not suit her. She still had her gaze fixed upon Peter, but something in the way she spoke made every person in the room tense. The guard shoving Jamie along froze, looking back towards Peter for further instruction. 

There was an internal pressure building in Jamie’s chest, something like desperation, like the acrid aftertaste of gunmetal and blasterfire. All around them, the wall panels groaned. A few crumpled beneath the strain. Rupture of pipe and control panels, and with a screech of metal on metal all the lights on the bridge went out. Steam from the burst pipes billowed along the floor. Every guard in the room — even Jamie’s — raised their weapon towards Dani, glancing nervously around. Moments later, the emergency lighting flickered to life, illuminating the deck with a faint glow. 

Quint’s face was cast from below. Unlike the others, he had not moved, remaining slouched on his captain’s chair like a low-slung throne. He smiled at Dani. “Was that supposed to impress anyone?” 

Dani reached out her hand and the sabre that had been resting on the arm of Peter’s chair was in Dani’s grasp before Jamie could even blink, as though it had leapt into place there. With a press of her thumb, the blade extended, slicing a blue line through the gloom. The air was cold, so cold that Jamie could see her own breath misting in a cloud, and the icy fear that had twisted in her chest was a thing now slicked with darkness. A treachery of black ice beneath every step. 

She watched, handcuffed and helpless, as Dani gripped the sabre so tightly that her hands shook. One of Dani’s eyes gleamed gold and bright, unblinking, fixed upon Peter, and from the hilt a crimson light peeled down the length of the blade, a slow and burning bleed of kyber, until the sabre was completely engulfed in a light as red as a dying star. 

“Open fire,” Peter said, voice trembling, face pale, staring at her with wide eyes. He jabbed his finger in Dani’s direction and repeated in a shout to the room at large, “Open fucking fire!”

Over a dozen guardsmen sighted down their blaster rifles and began shooting. The lightsabre was a living thing in Dani’s hands. It moved in ways Jamie had only ever seen in training manuals, in the hands of Knights and Masters. No motion wasted. Every angle of the blade made with surety of purpose. 

Four guards were dead by their own reflected blaster fire before they could even manage to pull the trigger a second time. Dani reached out, and four others had their rifles ripped from their hands, the weapons warping into useless hunks of metal and cast aside. One of the guards stationed at the exit raced forward, pulling out a long knife that had been strapped to his thigh. Dani did not even pause in deflecting incoming blaster fire; she swept the lightsabre behind her, passing the hilt between her hands and bringing it back around. Half of the guard’s severed body went careening into the control pit, where the pilots and engineers cowered with hands over their heads. The other half skidded to a halt on the floor, dead weight. 

Jamie’s mouth hung open. Blaster fire continued to fly through the air in streaks of red. The guard who had been assigned to her was torn between trying to shoot Dani and trying to keep a hand on his charge. Then Rebecca stepped forward, pressed the muzzle of her pistol to the side of his head, and pulled the trigger. He crumpled into a heap on the ground, and Jamie swore loudly. 

Crouching down, Rebecca grabbed something off the guard’s body and used it to unlock Jamie’s handcuffs. “Don’t just stand there!” Rebecca yelled over the din, and she circled an arm around Jamie’s waist to help her along. “Let’s go!”

The two of them lurched towards the exit. A deflected shot struck the ground beside them, and they ducked down. Smoke and steam filled the air. The smell of blaster fire and burnt flesh was thick enough to make Jamie gag. Cursing under her breath all the while, Rebecca pulled Jamie to the exit, where a guardsman was sprawled, dead on the floor with a hole the size of a fist burnt through his chest. Rebecca had to let go of Jamie for a second to haul the guard closer so she could use his hand to unlock the biosecurity lock on the exit. The panel flashed green, and Rebecca dropped the guard in favour of Jamie again. 

The elevator was eleven floors down and slowly started to ascend. 

“Come on,” Rebecca was muttering under her breath to herself. “Come on, come on, come on -”

Behind them, the blaster fire dwindled to a halt. There was the sound of something heavy and wet falling to the ground. With a thrill of sickening fear gripping her stomach, Jamie turned and felt Rebecca do the same.

The walls were scarred and pitted. A shower of sparks fell from the ceiling where a wall panel had been shot loose. Through the haze of smoke, Jamie could make out the shape of bodies scattered across the floor, and at the very centre of it all Dani stood. 

Her back was to them. She faced the captain’s chair, the lightsabre burning red through the acrid smoke. For a moment it seemed Peter was standing to his feet, but then Jamie realised he was being lifted up. He grasped at his throat with both hands, heels lashing out at the air, making wordless strangled noises, gasping. Then his head snapped to one side with a sickening crack, and he went still. Dani looked up at him and with an almost lazy gesture, tossed him aside. His body slammed into a far wall and fell to the ground in a heap.

Jamie’s pulse skyrocketed when Dani turned around and looked at them. And when Dani started to stalk in their direction, adrenaline coursed through Jamie; every nerve in her body was screaming for her to flee, to hide in some small dark place until this danger had passed over the land like the shadow of night. 

Dani’s cold gaze fell upon Rebecca, and she raised the lightsabre once more. 

“Woah!” Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was the pain doing funny things to her head, but Jamie leapt in front of Rebecca, hands trembling and lifted as though in surrender. “No, no! I mean, yeah, I’m also mad at her, but I don’t want her to die!” 

“Thanks,” muttered Rebecca behind her. 

“Shut up,” Jamie muttered back. 

Dani had gone still, but the weapon was still a gleaming line of bloody crimson held overhead.

“She can get us a cruiser with a hyperdrive,” Jamie said. “We can get out of here. Just - put down the lightsabre? Please?” 

The elevator made a bright ding behind them and the doors slid open. Dani leveled the lightsabre and for a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cut it straight through her from shoulder to hip. The blade stopped, pointing at Rebecca just over Jamie’s shoulder, and she made a sharp little gesture with the tip that Jamie could hear burning up the air right next to her ear. 

"Move," Dani ordered softly, and her voice sounded odd. As though there was more than one person speaking in unison.

Rebecca moved, backing slowly into the elevator. Lowering her hands, Jamie followed. Dani watched them with the fixedness of a predator, the air around her cold enough that Jamie shivered when Dani stepped into the small enclosed space with them. The lightsabre still seared in Dani’s fist, pointed towards the ground. Rebecca hit a button for hangar bay three, and the doors of the elevator shut with a hiss. 

The elevator started its descent. If this had been any other time, Jamie might have been tempted to reach out, gently grasp Dani’s wrist and urge her to put the lightsabre away. But this was not any other time, and there was nothing of the woman Jamie had grown to know over the last week in Dani’s face now. She stared blankly at the shut elevator doors, never blinking.

They arrived at hangar bay three and Rebecca immediately rushed over to the console that controlled access to the ship docked just beyond the hangar doors. She hooked something into the base of the console, making the screen flicker before giving her full admin privileges. As she started keying in the right commands, Jamie walked up beside her. 

Dani drifted behind her, blade in hand, completely silent. It felt like being followed by a mute ghost. 

Whatever Rebecca did worked. The hangar doors unlatched, turned, then slowly opened to reveal the sleek polished interior of a luxury cruiser yacht. Jamie stepped into the yacht’s entryway and looked around at the gleaming walls. Finally, Dani hit the button to sheathe the lightsabre and brushed past Jamie without a glance in her direction, vanishing around a corner of the cruiser. The brief contact made Jamie shiver. 

“Right. Okay,” said Jamie, hand pressing on the wound at her abdomen, still jittery from that feeling of being prey in the sights of something with very big teeth. She turned to Rebecca. “Fuck you, I guess?” 

From behind the console, Rebecca smiled weakly at her. “I suppose I deserve that. Does this mean I owe you a favour?”

“The biggest favour,” Jamie said gravely. “Like - seriously huge.”

“Until next time, then. Oh, and Jamie?” Rebecca said, and Jamie paused to glance back at her. “Don’t die.” 

Swallowing thickly, Jamie nodded, then Rebecca hit the button to shut the doors.  

Easier said than done.

[heartbreakgrill]

That Smile; Luke Hemmings

description: in which you’re a songwriter, working on Youngblood with 5sos, when a certain blonde catches your eyes.

a/n: there will be a part 2 for this!

“AHHHH!” You threw your green mechanical pencil across the room. It bounced off of the wall, snapping in half, and landing in separate places. One ended up by the door by your shoes, the other on the couch, beside your purse, jacket, and water bottle.

A voice crackled through the speaker system, obvious laughter being bitten back. “Y/N, are you okay?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, hands in fists on either of your temples. You were on the floor, on your back, skinny jean clad legs sprawled out in front of you. Your t-shirt was ridden up on your stomach, revealing a thin strip of your skin to the room, which you were now realizing was freezing. Through welling goosebumps, you grumbled, “I’m never okay, Brad. You know this.”

“I had to check. We have legal obligations in the workplace,” he responded, this time chuckling throughout his spiel.

“Damn, OSHA,” you mumbled into your bottom lip.

Brad hesitated before his voice echoed back in, “They’re here, by the way. Making their way back now.”

“I’m not getting up yet. I’m still moping over my inability to properly write a single-“ your voice rose into a yell now, “fucking line about a stupid fucking boy!”

It was now that you realized the door to the studio was open with the head of receptionist Cindy in the room. “Is this a bad time?”

“I get paid to do this, I have no say,” you dropped your hands to your sides. “Let ‘em in.”

The four lanky boys shuffled in, two dressed like it was New York Fashion Week, the other two lazed about in sweatpants and hoodies. They stood awkwardly against the wall, unsure of how to go about greeting someone having a mental breakdown on the ground below them.

“Hello, I’m sorry, I’m trying to recover,” you began to sit up, back cracking in the process. You straightened your shirt out, catching eyes with the tall blonde. You swear, in the most cringey way, your breath caught in your lungs.

“You’re okay, we go through similar processes,” a curly headed, dirty blond remarked, giggling lightly.

“Yeah, I have plenty of photos of Calum laying on the floor like you were,” long fringe, bright eyes. Michael, perhaps?

You had familiarized yourself with photos of them on the internet, but were not at all confident you knew who they were. In fact, you couldn’t recall anyone’s name when the tall blonde who stole your breath offered his hand. You took it, your hand completely encased in his warm one. Without much efforts, he pulled you off the ground, nearly flush against his chest. But, you made sure to step back when you stood.

“Thanks,” you sighed, shuffling to the couch in your sock-clad feet. “Uh, I’m Y/N,” you introduced while clearing the seating area for them, “I’m sorry, I dont really know your names. Could you-?”

“Luke,” he stuck out the same hand for you to shake; you did.

Michael was who you suspected, Calum the jet black haired man Michael had mentioned, and Ashton the giggly one. You situated yourselves on the couches once you demanded they make themselves at home.

“So, this is your third album?” Of course you knew their music. If you were pairing with an artist on a new project, you had to familiarize yourself with their sound. You couldn’t write a Taylor Swift-like song for Lil Uzi Vert.

“Yeah,” Ashton answered, seemingly the spokesperson for the band. He was sat on the couch across from you, with Calum, Michael in the computer chair by the recording equipment. Luke was beside and, damn, did he smell good.

“What’s the motive?” They looked confused at the question, sharing a furrowed look. With a quick tuck of your legs underneath you on the couch, you launched into explanation, eyes moving from boy to boy. “So, you’re first album was very teen punk, kinda edgy, but safe with cute love songs and innocent forever young vibes. Sounds Good, Feels Good was super grunge with ballads about your actual feelings, a few love songs, and a handful of those same forever young vibes. It was, like, healing for you, almost. Like an album meant to truly introduce your fans to who you are. What do you want to say with this one?”

Luke cleared his throat beside you, “I dont know that we really have a vision with this one. We never really do.”

“Gosh,” you laughed, “no wonder they hired you guys a new songwriter. You have to have a plan! Otherwise it takes way too long and you have no idea what you’re doing. You’ve managed to do awesome without me, but this album, I promise, is going to be amazing.”

They, collectively, grinned at you. “I dont know about you, boys, but Ive got fucking chills!” Ashton exclaimed, shoving Calums shoulder, glancing at Michael.

You grinned back, proud with yourself and your words. You looked over at Luke who had a twinkle in his eyes, a smaller smile that seemed reserved for admiration to you.

-

You’d see that smile many times again throughout the process of writing their new album, later titled Youngblood after the first song you wrote together.

Ashton thought you were a bloody genius, as he would say, again and again.

“Its just a simple lyrical progression, Ash,” you coined his nickname a week into the process, “not that big of a deal.”

He still grinned, continuing to flip at your ‘talent’ with the randomest things.

When Youngblood, the song, was completely recorded and produced, you had a listening party in the small recording studio. You’d baked cupcakes and cookies for everyone, Calum had popped some champagne, and Michael brought his girlfriend along for the celebration.

You got along with Crystal well, chattering about makeup, music, and many other things before Brad came into the room with a frog shaped file USB. You stood from the couch beside Crystal and moved to stand beside Luke, who just so happened to be standing in the spot you wanted to. He smiled down at you, bouncing on his heels in excitement.

As Brad set up the file, Luke said, “The cupcakes are really good. As are the cookies, and the song. Everything, really.”

He was nervous around you. He was never nervous around girls. But something about your overwhelming talent, immense beauty, and super sweet personality made him jittery. He held tightly to his paper cup, nearly breaking in from his squeezing knuckles.

“Thank you, Luke,” you set a hand on his shoulder, prepared to say something else when the song began.

You’d heard it prior to this to ensure that it wouldn’t be utter crap. It was amusing and prideful for you to watch everyone’s jaws drops, to see Calum drop onto the couch with his head in his hands. Ashton danced around, Crystal leaned against Michael, praising his guitar and vocal bits. As the beat picked up and, soon, as it ended, Luke turned to you, lifted you in his arms, and spun you around. You were laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at his hoodie-clad shoulders. When he set you down, you were still laughing, as was he. His laugh faded into that smile, that stupid smile.

-

The next time you saw it was halfway through the album. You had been losing sleep, between handling 5sos as a client and, now, Taylor Swift, who noticed your work through a friend. She wanted a new song, something uplifting and sweet. You agreed to help, not realizing that, now, you were overloaded. And, you weren’t able to devote your time to just 5sos.

One day, at the end of a long studio day, Luke noticed you on the floor of the recoding studio. Youd set yourself there when the boys starting gathering up their things, bidding your farewells with weary hands. Your eyes were no shut, hands resting on your stomach. Luke watched the boys leave and, having driven himself there, sat down beside you. He nudged your leg, gaining your attention through weary eyes.

“Hi,” he smiled, not quite in that way, but still sweetly. “Are you okay?”

“Stressed. Tired. Sick of writing. I haven’t been out with friends in so long and i want to, but all of my friends have normal lives with normal jobs. So they wont go with me during the week, and I cant on the weekends, because Ive been busy with Taylor Swift. God, never thought I’d say that sentence. Anyways, I just really want to get drunk and dance and then cry to someone about being sad, single, and so, so tired.”

“Well,” Luke resisted the urge to pick you up, place you in his lap, cradle you and coo you to sleep, “I’m sure I can urge Ash to have a party in his house. There’s plenty of people who dont care about their jobs or dont even have ‘em.”

You lifted yourself up on to your knees, “I would literally write you, like, an entire song if you got him to do that. I need a night away.”

“No need, I’m fine with one dance reserved for me,” there was the smile. “Oh, and a shot. We have to do a shot together.”

“I would do a million shots with you.”

He walked you to the parking lot, to your car, leaning against the door frame while you turned it on and buckled your seat belt. “Okay, so, Ill send you his address, and see you in a few hours?”

“See you.”

Now, what the hell were you going to wear?

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommates AU

Dean Winchester had it all at Wichita State University — a second chance, a future devoid of his father, and a roommate-turned-best friend who understands him inside and out.

But his father dies, he fails out in his second semester, and Castiel Novak leaves without so much as a goodbye.

Three years later, Dean has picked up the pieces. He works at the most trusted auto-shop in Lawrence, he’s putting Sam through college. Dean thinks it can’t get much better than that.

Then Castiel Novak gives him a concussion, and everything falls apart. Again.

Chapter 2 is up on AO3 (and below the cut)! Tumblr chapter masterlist here.

Classic Rock and Other Foreign Concepts

Three Years Earlier

Castiel Novak was ready for his second chance. 

Sure, the name “Wichita State University” held no cache, and sure, it was only two hours away from home. But it was a full ride, it was free of old high school acquaintances. It was enough. 

Castiel stood at the door of his empty dorm room, hope blooming in his chest as he regarded the dingy bunks and linoleum floors. 

He didn’t have much in the way of belongings, so moving in was quick and easy, even by himself. Castiel made his bed, hung up his limited outfits in the dresser, and filled his desk with his books and paper. Only one thing remained in his suitcase — a picture of his family, two Christmases ago. Castiel took it out and looked at it for a moment, before deciding to place it on his desk. 

He decided it might be a good idea to familiarize himself with his new surroundings. That was sure to calm down the inevitable anxiety that his first trip to the showers would bring. Castiel strolled down the hallway, doing his best to stay out of the way of all of the other freshmen moving in on his floor. 

After successfully discovering the bathroom and the water fountain, as well as narrowly avoiding an awkward encounter with two giggling girls who were apparently intent upon introducing themselves to him, he returned to his room with a sigh.

Castiel moved to his desk and opened his computer. He pulled up his course schedule, reviewing it again, despite having already committed it to memory. Tuesdays and Thursdays would be difficult, he thought, with financial accounting, economics, and an intro to business. The other days were more interesting, holding philosophy, creative writing, and nineteenth century British literature. 

Castiel was about to read the class descriptions for the millionth time when a loud thud and a grunt interrupted his thoughts. He stood up, fast, almost knocking his head on the bottom of his bed. Castiel got to his open door just in time to almost run into someone. 

“Shit! Watch it, man!”

Castiel found himself face to face with… Plastic storage bins. The man holding them shifted to reveal a mild scowl. Castiel cleared out of his way, and the man set the three boxes down. 

“Sorry,” Castiel muttered. 

“You’re fine,” the man grumbled. “Sorry, long drive.”

“Dean Winchester, I presume?” Castiel said, cautiously. He had seen his roommate assignment online weeks earlier.

“Damn straight,” Dean said, and he offered a hand out to Castiel, who accepted it graciously. “Sorry, man, I’m terrible with names. Have we met?” 

“I’m Castiel Novak,” Castiel replied, then added, “We haven’t met, but the website informed me of your name and email address. I emailed you a few weeks back.” 

Dean nodded. “I definitely didn’t respond. Sorry ‘bout that, I kind of haven’t had access to the internet in… Well, it’s a long story. Anyway, good to meet you.” 

“You as well. Do you need any help unpacking?” 

“Least you can do after nearly killing me.” Castiel tensed, but then Dean clapped him on the back. “Kidding. Help would be great.”

Castiel moved to unpack the box nearest him, but Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“No! Uh, not that one. No offense, but that’s the most important thing I own. Give me a second, you can start on this one.” 

Castiel tilted his head in inquisition, but Dean said nothing more, just got to unpacking the bin. Castiel set to work on the second of the three, first grabbing the sheets to make the bed. 

When Castiel had finished with Dean’s bed, he turned to see Dean had set up a record player and a pair of bookshelf speakers on the floor. 

“Behold,” Dean announced. “My prized possession.” 

“A record player?” Castiel asked. 

“Not just the record player,” Dean said. He went back to the box, which Castiel could now see was filled with vinyl LPs. “The whole collection.”

“It’s quite impressive.”

“Fuckin’ A-right,” Dean said. “Here, you like Zeppelin?” 

“Embarrassingly, I have no idea who that is,” Castiel said, blushing.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Dude! No way! Oh man, it’s time to educate you. How have you survived this long Zeppelin-less?” 

“My father was strict about music.” Castiel felt suddenly very nervous that this, combined with his near-toppling of Dean moments earlier, would have him solidly fixed on Dean’s bad side. But Dean was flipping through his records with animation, as if Castiel’s ignorance was a game to be won. 

“That’s utter bullshit,” Dean declared. “Here, listen to this.”

Dean put on Led Zeppelin IV. Castiel turned back to the plastic bins, intent upon doing something while the record played. He was quiet as he worked, setting up first an ancient-looking coffee maker, then a small, LCD monitor. Dean unpacked his clothes, quietly singing along to the music.

“Do you need help with the rest?” Castiel asked when they had finished, assuming there had to be more than just those three boxes. Dean chuckled quietly. 

“Nah, this is it. Thanks for the help, Castiel.” 

Castiel raised an eyebrow, but only said, “You’re welcome.” Dean had brought even less than he had. 

“That’s a weird name, by the way,” Dean said, turning the volume down on the speakers. “Castiel. It sounds kind of --” 

“Ancient?” Castiel supplied, and Dean nodded. “That’s because it is. It’s adapted from the name of an angel in the third book of Enoch.” At Dean’s blank look, Castiel added, “Christian apocryphal lore. My parents are very religious.” 

“Ah,” Dean said. “And you…?”

“Haven’t been to church since I was fourteen,” Castiel finished. “We are very different, my family and I.” 

Dean nodded. “That them?” He asked, pointing at the picture on Castiel’s desk. 

“Yes,” Castiel said. 

“That’s a lot of kids.” 

“Yes, there’s five of us.” 

“Road trips must have been fun,” Dean said.

This actually got a laugh out of Castiel. 

“I’ve only got one. My kid brother, Sam,” Dean said.

“How old is Sam?”

“God.” Dean rubbed his face, considering. “I guess he’s fourteen now. It’s weird — I feel like I can never see him as any older than, like, eight.”

“I can’t say I understand,” Castiel replied. “I’m the youngest.” 

“Damn, that must suck, four older siblings. What’re their names?”

Castiel picked up the picture. “The boy on the left — he’s the oldest — that’s Gabriel. The other is Bartholomew. The redhead is Anna. And then there’s Hannah, she’s just a couple years older than me.” 

Dean nodded, moving to his record player. He pulled a small, worn piece of paper from the inside. 

“This is old as hell,” he said, showing Castiel the picture, “but that’s my dad, and that’s Sam when he was… ten, maybe?” 

“It’s just the three of you?”

“Yeah, my mom died when I was, like, four.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to --” 

“No worries, man,” Dean said. “Long time ago.”

There was an awkward pause that made Castiel want to open his computer just to look preoccupied, but Dean spoke. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t get over this name stuff. I can’t be roommates with a dude named after an angel.” 

Castiel felt his entire body deflate. Day one, and just his name was already making things difficult. “I’m… Sure there’s a way to switch roommates. But, what’s wrong with being named after an angel?”

“Dude, I was totally joking,” Dean said, putting his hands up defensively. “I’m not switching roommates — unless you’re secretly a vampire or something.” Castiel smiled at that. “And there’s nothing wrong with it, I’m just not into the whole religion thing. Makes me feel weird. Nah, I’ll just have to call you something else. Any suggestions?” 

“I’ve always just been ‘Castiel.’” 

“Man, haven’t had many creative friends,” Dean said. “Cas it is, then.” 

“Cas?” Castiel replied. He considered the new nickname. Castiel actually found it strange that no one had ever thought of it before, now that he had heard it. “I suppose it is a great deal shorter.”

“Easier to say, too,” Dean said. “It fits.”

Castiel smiled tentatively. “Sure.” 

The music faded, and Dean flipped the record to the B-side. 

“What do you think so far?” He asked. 

“It’s certainly different than what I’m used to. In a good way,” Castiel added. 

Dean beamed at him. “Awesome. I have more in here, too, and it’s not just Zep. Mostly the classics — the Stones, Rush, AC/DC… And a shit load of grunge, too. Man, wait til you hear Alice in Chains…” 

Castiel smiled at his animation. “Music is important to you?” 

“Dude, I couldn’t function without music. I feel like every time I listen to a song I like, I find something new that makes it even better.” Dean chuckled to himself. “Sorry, I’m geeking out about classic rock.”

“I don’t mind,” Castiel said, and he found that it was true. “I feel similarly about books.” 

“You like to read?”

“Immensely.” 

“You’ll have to give me some recommendations. I read Vonnegut in high school, and that was cool, but other than that and Harry Potter I think I’m pretty hopeless.”

“I will,” Castiel said, even though he knew he wouldn’t, even though he knew Dean was simply saying the polite thing. He had learned by now that when people asked about him to talk about the things he liked, they were just being nice. 

Dean asked Castiel which end of the hall the bathrooms were on, and excused himself.

When he returned, Dean clapped his hands together. “So,” he said. “I gotta ask you the Freshman Questions.” At Castiel’s confused look, he elaborated: “You know, the two things you ask everyone for your whole freshman year. Where are you from, what are you majoring in?” 

Castiel nodded. “I see. I didn’t know there was a procedure.” 

Dean looked at him for a moment. “It’s not — I was kinda joking.” 

“Oh. Right,” Castiel said, rubbing his neck. “Well, I’m from Guthrie — it’s a small town in Oklahoma, just a few hours south of here. And I’m studying accounting and creative writing.” 

“Guthrie… I’ve driven through there, on our way to Oklahoma City for a job my dad worked once,” Dean said. 

“It’s not very impressive.” 

Dean laughed. “Nah, not really.” 

“What about you, Dean?”

“I’m from Lawrence — it’s northeast of here. And I have no fucking idea what I’m gonna major in,” he said. “I’m not really… Well, Sam is the smart one. That kid is gonna kick ass when he goes to school. I’m kinda just here to…” Dean trailed off. 

“Experience it?” Castiel suggested. Dean shrugged. 

“Yeah, I guess.” He cleared his throat. “Why accounting? I get the writing thing, you said you like books — but accounting? I feel like those two don’t mix.”

“They don’t,” Castiel agreed. “But I don’t want to be a starving author. I do want to be able to take care of myself.” I want to be far, far away from everything I’ve ever known. I want to leave and never look back.

“Fair,” Dean said. “I don’t know about you, Cas, but I’m starving. Wanna grab some dinner?” 

“Sure,” Castiel said with a smile.

 The next day, in his first creative writing class, the professor asked each of them to share their major, their hometown, and a fun fact. He called, “Novak, Castiel?” 

“Double major in accounting and writing. I’m from Guthrie, Oklahoma. I suppose a fun fact is that I’m named after an angel, but you can just call me Cas.” 

[beabaseball]

Editing Anon from a few days ago. Yeah, ive never really touched editing software before. Like... Only once or twice, but it was super basic stuff, like cutting some pieces out.

I have good news; cutting is a good 90% of it. ,,,that might be an exaggeration but it is certainly what I am feeling very passionately right now.

I know last time I said I didn’t have any course suggestions, but if you can find lists that are just... literally just editing techniques, and historical videos can’t hurt. Alfred Hitchcock and Orson Welles basically made the basis of modern US/Western editing... because they were busy trying to one-up each other. I wanted to give you an Akira Kurosawa rec too because he literally invented the Rashomon Sequence but none of the videos on youtube vibe with me, but in 1950 he basically said “hey....... what if the editing LIED to you” and it was great.

Definitely stay away from film critic channels. I like watching them because I enjoy being hurt, but they will absolutely not give you editing advice. Animation will give you tons of editing stuff because EVERYTHING in the setup must be deliberate and the editing is built into the creation process, but in general just watching movies twice helps. First time to see the movie, second time to see HOW it movie. Film theory is 80% editing. A director can hand you the shit, but you’re making sense out of it. This is why Wonder Woman 2017 was janky, even though I loved it. The editing in some places was janky as hell and if you go with a notebook and try to write down the edits happening and pick out what went wrong or was confusing, I promise you will learn a lot.

I can’t really give any advice specific to your editor, but as long as you can make an accurate cut, you can make a good video on whatever basically. But there are some general things that I do need to impart: 1) if you’re doing anything with any amount of pause, have some background radiation. Literally just hold your phone up and record the sound of a quiet room if you have to and stick it on the bottom track. Keeps the silences from being too deafening in anything serious, when otherwise you’ll hear that ‘click’ of the sound dropping off entirely.

2) watch your sound levels. If you look off to the side of your timeline, you should see a gague that is usually two bars with decibel levels (dbs) marked on them. and as your sound plays the bars go up from green to yellow to red. You want your gague to hit yellow. If it goes to red, you’re blowing out the speaker. If you’re in green, people will need to raise their volume to hear you. You will probably have to google how to change sound levels specific to your editor, but usually you turn on a mode (or have an automatic turned on mode) that puts a thin line in the middle of your soundtrack bar and you can put points on it and raise and level the sound in between those points. This seems like a lot of extra work but it’s part of ‘invisible editing’ where you DON’T want the audience to notice the editing so they aren’t distracted from the content. Drawing attention to the editing is usally an artistic choice or for a funny,like a smash cut where someone says “i’m not doing that” and immediately cuts to them doing that.

3) ...this is all sound editing lol USE CROSSFADES AND FADE-OUTS with audio. It smooths out that ‘sound just cut out’ click mentioned in 1. The ambient noise will help but fading in and out will also help a lot. This is for DaVinci Studio but you can see what an audio crossfade is there and most editors should let you at least do a fade out, and then you can put them on different lines and have them overlap that way if a system doesn’t let you crossfade directly (looking at you, iMovie.)

................................and yeah the rest of it is just chopping things up and putting them on top of all that audio you worked hard on lol.

Anything more complicated is going to be system-dependent or dependent on the shooting of the film itself. So for filming tips:

Have consistent lighting. Daylight is best looking but if the sun goes behind the clouds and you have to cut some dead space, all of a sudden the light goes dark in your film and it’s really  obvious. You can probably digitally brighten some of it up, but it’s easier to just have an extra light on in the first place while filming. Florescent bulbs flicker, LED’s don’t, but LED’s also look very clinical.

Film the same thing once or twice from different angles, especially if you only have one camera. Do not become stanley kubrick.

microphones are hell i still haven’t figured out how to not fuck up recording

save often, your computer is always about to crash.

..OH FUCK GET AN EXTERNAL HARDDRIVE.

Keep a copy saved on your external harddrive ALWAYS. Two saves at minimum at all times. Or you will end up like my classmate whose entire thesis deleted itself 2 days before deadline.

bring snakcs and hydrate.

these are all the important things i can thnk of.

[thaliagrayce]

@ariihen​ absolutely. consider yourself destroyed. This is a little lighter on the jasico than most of my stuff, but like... I had fun and it’s still homestuck au? I hope you like it anyway. I love a lot of parts of homestuck but honestly the beginning, when they were trying to figure out this weird fucking game, was one of my favorites

-- gracefulArgonaut [GA] began pestering tumultuousTartarus [TT] at 16:13 --

GA: Im Still Supposed To Be Bullying You Right Now Because Apparently That’s What Were Supposed To Do 

GA: But Ive Been Watching You For An Hour Now And You’ve Been Listening To The Same Song And Staring At The Corner The Entire Time

GA: Are You

GA: Are You Okay?

Nico blinked down at the new messages from gracefulArgonaut, squinting a little to try and read the light blue letters against the white backdrop of pesterChum. It was confusing for a number of reasons, most of which he didn’t want to touch. It was the first time GA had contacted him, but far from the first time he’d been approached by random hostile strangers on pesterChum. Despite the influx of other, much meaner anonymous messages he’s gotten within the past year, this one unsettled him more than most.

He glanced at his computer speakers, which were playing Wake Me Up When September Ends for—he glanced at the screen, which had his music history open—the sixteenth time in a row. He had, in fact, been zoning out in the direction of the corner for almost the entire time. gracefulArgonaut or whatever had no way of knowing that. He looked down at the messages again, chewing on his bottom lip. Responding to these trolls wasn’t productive, he knew that from experience, but that was… super specific.

The last note faded away, bleeding into the intro again. Seventeen times. He unfolded his legs from the position he had been sitting on his bed in, wincing at the twinge in his knees and shaking the numbness out of them as best he could, and moved to his desk chair. Under the window that was playing his music was a pop-up from the Sburb beta. It had taken a while (or maybe he just hadn’t noticed it for a while), but the server application had finished installing.

Instead of sending anything back to GA, he switched to a different chat.

-- tumultuousTartarus [TT] began pestering effluentBlade [EB] at 16:15 --

TT: Okay.

TT: I have the option to start a server now and I’m going to do that.

TT: You only have to join when I send you the invite, it shouldn’t be too difficult on your end.

He set up the server and tried to connect, but the client server was unresponsive. He twisted his skull ring around his finger and stared at the screen. Another few messages from GA came in, but he ignored them.

-- [TT] [EB] --

TT: You there?

TT: Percy?

EB: oh yeah lol I’m here, I just had to do something for my mom

EB: it’s good, got it, hitting enter now

Another message from GA pinged in the background. They were persistent, usually the trolls would ignore him after he disappeared for too long. He glanced at the media player again. Wake Me Up When September Ends was on its seventeenth and a half playthrough. Even if they were just making a scarily accurate guess, GA might have had a point. It was a good song, but it was also without doubt his Depression Song. He hovered his mouse over the icon at the bottom of the screen, considering.

The Sburb window suddenly changed from the black background and green text that he had been seeing for an hour to a loading screen, and his speakers started pumping out instrumental music over top of his emopunk. He paused Green Day, fighting a smile. Finally.

-- [TT] [EB] --

EB: oh shit dude, false alarm, mom needs me again

EB: I’ll be back in five minutes, don’t worry

Nico let out a groan and leaned back in his chair, letting his head flop back against the headrest. He’d been wanting to play this game for months, but apparently he wouldn’t ever be able to. Percy, as usual, had better things to do than spend time with him. Thalia was still pretending that she was too cool to want to play in some misguided attempt to… establish dominance in their group? Impress all of them with her apathy? Make sure her mother was just as miserable as she was? Nico didn’t know, and he didn’t have the patience to try to dismantle whatever was going on in her brain now. She wanted to play somewhere in there, and she would eventually. That’s what mattered to Nico. Annabeth was… Nico didn’t actually know where she was now, but she wasn’t responding to messages. As usual. Probably knee-deep in some project, hyperfocusing so hard that she forgot to blink for five minutes.

At least Percy tried connecting before he left. The loading music was kind of nice, too. Maybe Percy didn’t actually have to be there in order for Nico to play.

There was another ping from GA. Nico bit his lip. It couldn’t be any more unsettling than the initial messages had been, right? He opened the chat.

- - [GA] [TT] - -

GA: I See Youve Moved To A More Comfortable Sitting Location

GA: Good

GA: That Couldnt Have Been Good For Your Back

GA: Or Your Legs

GA: Or Your Mental Health Probably

GA: I Also See That You Are Ignoring Me

GA: Which I Should Have Expected

GA: I Did Explicitly State That I Was Supposed To Bully You

TT: You know, the whole telling me what I’m doing in the moment that I’m doing it thing is a little bit creepier than your group’s usual brand of cyberbullying, but the rest of your approach could really use some work in the hostility department.

TT: Part of your strategy? Be nice, but like, really weird about it? I admit, that might be effective, if you actually planned it out. Make me feel as uncomfortable with my friendships as I do with the rest of you.

TT: Who, apparently, all know each other and have banded together in an organized campaign against myself and my friends?

GA: Oh! Youre Here

GA: Uh

GA: I Kind Of Have A Viewport That Lets Me See The Four Of You?

GA: Mine Is Focused On You At The Moment

GA: I Explained This To You Last Time

TT: Did you, now?

GA: Well

GA: Last Time From My Perspective

GA: Probably It Will Be Next Time From Your Standpoint

GA: Anyway

GA: Im Glad That You Seem To Be More Responsive Now

GA: Youre

GA: Different Than I Expected

GA: And Different Than You Were Before?

Behind pesterChum, the window for Sburb changed. Nico could see… Percy’s bedroom? Strange. He shot a quick message to gracefulArgonaut.

- - [GA] [TT] - -

TT: As fascinating as that avenue of conversation would be to explore, I have better things to do now.

TT: How about you stop creeping on my life and leave me alone? Worth consideration. Might be a more effective way of bullying me, leave me in confusion.

GA: That Certainly Is A Strategy

GA: I Confess That Im Not Very Good At Bullying Though

GA: And You Fascinate Me

GA: I Think I Would Like To Be Friends Actually

TT: Well, try again later, I guess. As I said, I have better things to do now.

He exited the chat, but didn’t log out of pesterChum entirely. Hopefully, Percy would be back soon. Nico could see him in his room, dicking around with a foam sword. Nico scrolled through Percy’s apartment until he was in an uninhabited room—the bathroom. Perfect. He hit the select button and clicked the bathtub. He could worry about GA later, it was time to learn these controls right now.

[kommunistkaitou]

Man I love thrift/secondhand shops so much. The last big store I went shopping in before Covid, back in January, was the first and so far only time ive ever been in a Savers, and i got a pair of pajama pants that was one dollar because it used to be part of a set but the shirt was too damaged to be sold or sth and im wearing them now and theyre just. The fuzziest softest most comfortable thing, and they’re teal with penguins and snowflakes on them.

I also got a speaker for my brother’s computer which doesn’t have one, for like six dollars, its pretty bad quality but it works and now I don’t have to lean in and share an earbud when he wants to show me a video. This post doesn’t really have a point, im just sad that its been so long since I got to go shopping somewhere enjoyable rather than shopping as fast as possible for the absolute necessities or buying online.

Tho also making this post reminded me that one of the ‘small local businesses’ that went out of business bc of covid that was being touted in local news as a tragic loss that indicated why reopening was so necessary, was one of those abominable places thats a ‘chic’ secondhand store where the owners go to actual thrift shops and buy up everything good to sell them at like eight times the price or more like oh boo hoooo now those ladies won’t be preventing me from being able to buy decent dress shoes