#there were probably other reasons but it has been a solid four years since i have thought about him so
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why do you hate jaskier? :(
hes annoying
#not a tag#from saph#there were probably other reasons but it has been a solid four years since i have thought about him so
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Haii hope all is well and you are healthy- I was wondering if you would like to do a headcanon on how gun or goo (or Jake n Samuel :3 which ever you prefer) would react to knowing/and/or finding out their s/o was abused? And maybe having to meet their abuser? If ur comfortable with that have a good day~
okay lowkey i was thinking all week about whether or not i wanted to to have this blog focus around strictly nsfw h0rny/simp/chaos vibes or be open to sfw/more emotionally heavy topics because i know a lot people are able to find comfort in it. and this is kind of helped make up my mind (not because it was a bad request or anything but simply because i have a hardest time being serious when it comes to these 2D men)
soooo we're gonna keep it sexy and lighthearted over here from now on.
HOWEVER, i will answer this since i never really stated what type of content i prefer to write. and just because you were really sweet uwu.
anywho, prologue over; i answer the ask is under the cut since this is a triggering topic.
[tw for lengthy discussion of abuse.]
first off, corporal punishment from parents and teachers was/is a normal thing in korea. it was only very recently that there was legislative ban on it. so with that in mind, depending on who your abuser was would have the most impact how each of these guys react.
all four of these guys have flaws that could easily be contributed to some sort emotional abuse in their formative years.
if i'm remembering correctly, samuel's childhood was tough mostly because other kids were picking on him for not having a dad but with the way his mom reacted to him asking about his dad, i feel like she would also contribute to the physical abuse (the short temper probably runs in the family) with that being said, i don't think he would be very sympathetic toward you because he's probably someone who's like "my shitty home life is what made me wanna go out and better myself and make money."
assuming that the two of you are in a romantic relationship when you mention that your ex was abusive to you, samuel would probably have hard time trying to comfort you or console you. he has a lot of issues and being in a situation like this is probably new and uncomfortable for him but he does listen to you talk about the issue. though he might not say much, i feel like he would make mental notes of what you say so he doesn't repeat those behaviors since those who have been abused in the past seem to be more prone to continuing the patterns of abuse when they aren't aware of or haven't processed how the abuse they experienced has affected them.
gun and goo would only be a smidge more sympathetic toward you if your parent was your abuser. both of them would share the attitude of "going through that made you stronger, right?" along with the fact they simply see physical abuse from parents as a cultural norm.
if your abuser was an ex...once again, i think gun and goo would be pretty like minded in this aspect. they would probably wanna kill your ex on sight... and it would be fun for them. listening to you speak about your abuse is where i think these two would differ. goo would find the serious conversation very unpleasant. he would listen to you because he cares but once you finish speaking, he would be quick to try and lighten the mood. on the other hand, gun would approach the topic with more logic and reasoning; maybe suggesting that you speak to a therapist rather than someone as fucked up as him.
out of the four, jake would be the most understanding and best at dealing with the issue but he's not perfect. plus the bar was basically on the ground with the other three tbh. jake is probably going to be the one who is the most comfortable talking about these matters and letting you cry on his shoulder if you need to since he can't offer any solid advice. talking about abuse from a parent with him would be at least a little comforting because he seems like he's matured enough to get a grasp of how his upbringing has impacted him. even though he's more sympathetic than the other three, when it comes to talking about abuse from parents he seems like his attitude toward it would be something like "yeah, it sucks that we had to be raised like that, huh?"
jake would have a harder time keeping his cool if he found out that your ex was your abuser though. seeing his mom not being treated the best probably affected him a lot and the idea of very intentionally harming someone you love is abhorrent to him.
anywhooo dear anon thank you for this thought provoking ask !!! 💓💓💓
to any of my dear followers reading this, if you're going through any type of issues, know that you don't have to go through it alone. im not a therapist or anything (yet?) but i am willing to listen to you vent if you need to. however i am best suited to just be someone to help cheer you up 💖
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Is Wild Actually Dink?
Bottom Line Up Front: I don’t think so. Here’s why.
I think that if Wild was potentially Dink or corrupted or something, there would have been a much more solid sign before now. It’s one of the rules of writing stories to foreshadow things to come, even if very subtly. If Wild was Dink or corrupted or something, we would have had a scene or a panel of the shadow sneaking up behind Wild in the woods, or Wild staring evilly at the potions he’s made, or Wild trying to pick up the shadow’s cursed weapon or something (which, as far as we know, is still chilling in the woods by the way).
In fact, we had the opposite. We’ve had panels that explain his behavior. We see him use logic and reasoning when he decided to fight the iron knuckle. We saw him witness Four’s split, (and getting no explanation for what was happening--does he even realize it was real??). We see him having a flashback and struggling to make sense of it; when realized he was losing it, he removed himself from the situation. In the woods, we watch him think and talk and rest and recover. When he returns to the group, we see him calmly giving a peace offering of potions (RIP Hopkins). When they go see their ailing brother, we can see from his expressions that his emotions are admittedly still a little raw and unsettled on the inside, but he maintains his composure. And in Twilight’s darkest hour and moment of greatest need, Wild is there for him and encourages him (and everyone else too) to keep fighting the good fight.
“But his behavior these last few updates—! But his expression in the last panel—!”
You gotta remember, in the life experiences department, Wild basically still a toddler.
We know canonically in LU he’s 117, or 17 minus the nap. How long has it been since he woke up? Months? Years? If I had to guess, I’d say no more than two years. (That would put him at being a knight, facing the Calamity, basically dying at 15 years old, and waking up a century later at 115. Then he goes on his adventure and later meets up with the gang and now he’s 17.)
At best, that’s like 2 years of memories and life experience to go off of. Yes, he does have the added benefit of waking up as a teen with a greater learning capacity than an infant and having a past life still somewhat shaping the way he thinks even if it is subconscious, but still… That’s… not a lot of time or opportunity to learn emotional regulation skills, especially if no one taught him and he had to learn on his own.
From what we know, this is probably Wild’s first time facing the death of someone he actually remembers, knows personally, and loves dearly. It’s only natural that he’s having Big Emotions that he’s having a hard time understanding, controlling, and articulating. This is the first time a tragedy like this has happened to him in his (remembered) life! To be honest, I think he’s actually doing really well for someone in his situation. (There’s no way I’d be as resolved and composed if I were in his place even with my 20+ years of life experience.)
And besides, if he were Shadow!Wild, wouldn’t he have tried to force his way past Four or even hurt or kill him when he found him alone in the courtyard? Wouldn’t he have tried to finish the job and kill Twilight when he had the opportunity? (Sure, he could have been biding his time waiting for a better moment to strike, or maybe waiting for the poisoned potion to do it’s dirty work, but if that were the case, why encourage Twilight to fight at all? Why cheer everyone up? Why not keep his mouth shut and let everyone be discouraged and resigned to Twilight’s dark fate?)
And at the end, why was Wild leaving the room while everyone else stayed with Twilight? Because the dang boy’s emotions are resting on a knife’s edge. He’s barely holding it together as it is. That weird expression on his face in the last panel I interpret as him hysterically riding the high of actually succeeding to encourage Twilight to keep fighting, lifting the spirits of the others, and getting Time’s “good job.” He’s leaving the room because he’s overstimulated, emotionally overwrought, and can’t handle anything more, good or bad. And he feels free to leave Twilight’s side because he finally has hope that Twilight will be okay.
So to put a long story short, these are not the thoughts and actions of an impersonated or corrupted hero. These are the thoughts and actions of a distressed and struggling young man, but one who is very brave and very strong in the face of such hardship. Wild is doing his best, and I think he’s doing just fine.
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We all want to be entertained, distracted from our lives. There's nothing wrong with a Netflix or YouTube binge, but perhaps its not so great that its become the default for us, or at least for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some TV, but watching the crew of the Discovery getting themselves into trouble, or the Click (wholesome though he is) making jokes about goofy memes doesn’t actually accomplish anything, and it takes time that could be used in more fulfilling ways.
Social media can be a great resource, and a serious distraction. I decided to back away from social media almost entirely once I realized I was letting people I didn't know piss me off, especially when I wasn't going to change their mind (hello Dunning-Krueger, didn't see you over there).
To challenge myself and get my head on straight, I'm embracing Cal Newport's Digital Detox for March, eliminating social media and all streaming video. I'm letting myself have access to a limited number of sites, primarily 84000, Suttacentral, and the Storygraph. I'm also planning to post to Mastadon twice a day (a poem and 3 good things), and Tumblr. I'm not restricting podcasts, audio books or music. I'll be using Basecamp, Meetup, and Zoom for personal development and to keep commitments I've made. I'm planning to revert my phone to something akin to what Steve Jobs originally intended, a sort of smart dumb phone that can make calls, texts, access messaging apps, maps, the app for my smart scale, One Bus Away, Streaks, audio, YNAB & my bank, and thats about it. In other words I'm making my phone a tool again. The question of course, becomes what to do without access to technological pacifiers. The answer really is most anything that doesn’t require a computer or smartphone, but some of my favorites these days include:
Meditation: I've been practicing based on the teachings of the Nalandabodhi, and Shambhala lineages recently and plan to meditate for seven minutes in the morning and/or evening, in addition to short sessions sporadically throughout the day. I'll also be single tasking for the most part, using activities like reading, walking, reading/composing poetry, and painting, as meditative practices.
Yoga: I got into yoga asana because I was stiff and not very grounded, and I decided to train to teach for similar reasons, since yoga is so pigeon holed as something only bendy acrobats can do. I've not gotten on the mat in a few years at this point, but want to get back to it, inspired by my teacher starting to teach again earlier this week after an extended health crisis. I'm planning to just do a couple minutes to start, probably just Sun Salutations/playing around.
Walk: A great form of exercise most anyone can do, and it doesn’t have to cost a thing as long as you have a decent pair of shoes and appropriate clothes for the weather. I've been taking daily walks more regularly recently, but most of the time this is a bookstore circuit that leads to lots of temptation. Going forward I'm planning to walk more in nature and go to libraries instead. I'm setting a 12k goal in Streaks, and shooting for 20k. I've already been hitting in this range most days which has helped with some serious weight loss.
Read: I’ve always got a couple books going. At the moment the list includes a commentary on the 37 Practices of a Bodhisattva, and Donut Economics by Kate Raworth. Books are magical things. You can learn most anything you might be interested in (I highly recommend Raworth's book), you can learn about another person’s experience of life in their own words (Montaigne basically invented the personal blog before the internet or computers were a thing when he thought up the essay format). You can also exercise your imagination and relax with a good novel (the human imagination has one solid advantage over TV & movies in that it isn’t restricted by a budget!) The plan is to dial back and do my best to only read one or two books at a time instead of the four or five I've usually got going. I'm also planning to read more poetry after my interest was reignited by Sister Jina's wonderful collection, which leads to the next item.
Write: Mostly when I say write I'm thinking of journaling and composing poetry by hand. I'm shooting for spending some time every day writing, but not worrying about getting a polished poem at the end. Just fifteen minutes of concentrated work.
Paint: I've taken a couple classes on watercolor and messed around a bit with acrylics. I'd like to spend some time each day painting, actually focused on having something to show for it each time, though that could be childish goofing around. I'd like to take a shot at using acrylics to recreate ukiyoe, get inspired by Zen/Chan watercolors, and take a shot at Sumie, though I definitely want to take a class in the latter at some point sooner than later!
PLAYING WITH MY CAT: Do I need to explain?
NOTHING: Seriously, we've become so obsessed with "productivity" and "getting things done" that as a culture its as if we've forgotten what it is to be alive as a human being. I'm going to try to do this more often, whether standing in line, walking somewhere, or just having nothing in particular to do.
I'm not expecting March to be easy, but thats kind of the point. I'm getting rid of some things I enjoy , but the fact that something isn't easy just means its more worth doing. I'll be journaling about it, and plan to post here once a week.
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𝐓𝐀𝐆 (𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄) 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑
Got tagged by @hedgewyse whom I was very happy to get to know better via this tag game, thanks a lot! Sorry it took so long to respond, I needed to get on tumblr on the laptop where I can actually type up text and I had a lot of things going on this past week that kept me LOL.
Favourite colour: Blue.
No explanation, not particular reason why, it’s just always been blue. All shades from deep purple to almost white. But I have a special place in my heart for the word ‘turquoise’, which I feel is just so the most.
Currently reading: Oh good gosh, my open doc reading list is so long, I will constrain myself to the most recent things...
“(Love is)The second oldest profession” The 9-1-1 Buck/Eddie pornstar!AU I knew I needed but kept for a special occasion
I’m also reading “Achtsam Morden” a national German bestseller and the first actual like physical book I’ve picked up in probably four years. It’s hilarious and murdery and perfect
I’m listening to “Blood & Paper” by Kevin Hearne (whom I recently got to meet at a book signing event when he was visiting here and a friend asked me to spontaneously tag along - best decision in ages) Love the audiobook version read by Luke Daniels, he’s a whizz with the accents.
“Hide the drums (there’s fire in the sky)” latest installment of the Magical Marriage Ribbons-Verse, the Untamed Mega Saga, for which the author starandrea has been posting a chapter every day since May 31st 2020, so 805 consecutive days as of now without missing ONE. It boggles the mind. (I’ve started reading when the verse was ... oh I think about three parts in, I haven’t missed one too since then)
Last song: “The Greatest Show on Earth” - Nightwish, it’s my soundtrack for my daily yoga practice (no I am in fact not joking), so it doesn’t really count last leisure listening was the soundtrack of ‘Robin Hood - Das Musical’
Last series: Ooofff... ok, so many balls in the air at the same time. I’m watching “The Sandman” of course, as you do and loving it. Also “Extraordinary Attorney Woo” which is THE MOST(tm). Recently finished my rewatch and catch-up of “Manifest” and rewatched a couple of episodes of The Devil Judge with a friend who just started and that I got into it, remembering why I can’t be normal about those boys (and how delightful it is to rewatch with someone experiencing sth for the first time). Of course went down the magnificent and batshit crazy rabbithole that is Kinnporsche. Also, “Tomorrow” which is definitely my fav K-Drama of 2022.
Last movie: Day Shift - Fun and a nice remix of vampire tropes that you don’t really see on top of each other a lot. But it felt more like a set up to a movie trilogy I don’t know if it’s made enough impact into getting, so the premise might have been served better as a mini series? ...The Gray Man, which was solid and enjoyable and absolutely bonkers with how hilarious it was to watch Chris Evans have a ton of fun playing straight up, no holds barred, unredeemable villian. Ryan Gosling can stay... Ana de Armas is queen bee.
Currently working on: My last day of vacation :sob: and of course my WIP/plot bunnie enclosure excel spreadsheet (yes, I do not do things by half until I halfass writing them). Anyway, actual words or plotty thinky thoughts were put into:
- The Devil Judge a/b/o PWP (that has, so far, about 5k of set up and no porn) with a Jung Sunah made them do it scenario and non-traditional dynamics (yeah, idek...)
- Vincenzo Inception fusion - Jang Han Seo wakes up from getting shot to a curious set up of sleeping people around him (really really wanna write this one but the premise is so vast I’m afraid of flaming out again)
- three separate 9-1-1 Buddie fics of varying size and scope that reaches from one’s in love the other isn’t and confessions make things complicated (or do they), the fall out from the truck bombing goes the other way for Buck & the “Eddie deals with his 5B-issues by discovering shibari”!AU (do NOT try this at home-therapy)
- The Untamed - Blades of Glory!AU
pheeeeew. hooookay, wow, that was interesting, hope your learned something about me. I’mma tag some people, but please, feel free to participate at your own leisure. @hattalove, @the-marathon-continues-nip , @iskarieot, @themostglorioushour, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels , @fondofeveryprickle, @ahhhnorealnamesallowed, @sam-t-a, @b612sunsets
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Lapidot opinions? any thoughts?
omg fhdhf I'm so sorry this took so long LOLLL I had a lot to say and ended up slowly typing this over the last week! Anyways I wrote way more than I expected so I'm gonna put it under a read more for everyone's sake, so if you want to see my lapidot thoughts in excruciating detail here you guys go
can't stand it ghfh lmao no believe it or not I actually have a lot of reasons I really like lapidot! (admittedly some more superficial than others lollll). getting this out of the way the thing that at the end of the day probably has the most influence over my opinion of lapidot is that peridot and lapis have been my favorite characters since I watched the show as a teenager! I literally have ship art of them in old sketchbooks from 2015 way before they had anything close to a friendly interaction together in canon haha so of course once they started forming that relationship I was all for it.
Going into more solid reasons, I like that foundationally they already have a lot in common as both being gems formerly unallied with earth now in a situation where they are calling it their home and have to navigate being comfortable with that. There's something really sweet about how Peridot has a lot of empathy for Lapis struggling to adjust to life on earth because of everything she went through and all the effort she puts into trying to let Lapis know that she cares about her happiness, even when Lapis is less than friendly to her lol. I think it makes sense why Lapis would be so cold to Peridot and I think she has every reason to be, but in the end she decided to give Peridot a chance and ended up forming a really close bond with her.
I also admittedly have a soft spot for "and they were roommates" tropes LMAOOOO I think its really cute when characters fall in love after living with each other alone as strangers or friends. i actually have a really funny story related to that, when I was a teenager going into my senior year of high school I had a crush on my current girlfriend who at the time was my long distance internet bff of four years and I wanted to start a relationship with her but I was both 1. too shy to ask her out and 2. intimidated by the concept of a long distance relationship. so my master fucking plan was that I was like, ohhh we can go to the same college and then be roommates together and then we can slowly fall in love and then I won't have to ask her out :)" I ended up asking her out like three months later LOL but my point with this story is yeah of course my stupid gay ass is gonna enjoy Lapis and Peridot slowly falling in love while living alone by themselves on the countryside. I am literally nothing if not predictable.
MOVING ON AGAIN TO MORE SOLID REASONS LOL I really think their bond together in general is sweet, I like that they get each others jokes and do most everything together. I love that they have a little fucking pumpkin puppy together because of course they do, that's probably the most dykey thing "roommates" can do together. I also love how much Peridot seems to care about Lapis's wellbeing specifically in reference to her feelings about Jasper, even if she does come off as a bit overprotective. Although I'm otherwise pretty underwhelmed by the comics I really enjoy the time they spend developing Lapis and Peridot's relationship, it seems that they both have childish sides and sometimes get into petty arguments but are also aware of their immaturity streak and ultimately care about each others wellbeing. I think that's something that they will probably mature out of as they grow as people later in the series but I can see a bit of that always being somewhat present in their relationship, I don't think thats necessarily a bad thing though as long as they're aware and learn to control it.
This is potentially controversial but what makes them REALLY interesting to me is actually the events of Raising the Barn! It really puts on display the flaws in what seemed on the outside as a perfect relationship and combined with Lapis's decision at the end of the episode puts forward some hard questions about if and how they'll be able to work things out when she comes back. One of Lapis's major character flaws is that she has a history of acting selfishly based on her feelings in a given situation and failing to consider the long-lasting harm the things she does might have on other people. That's something I actually enjoy about her character because I've definitely been in places in my life where I've done drastic things as a result of my personal pain without considering how they might hurt other people, and its something I wish we had gotten to see her grapple with more. In this situation Lapis chose to uproot her and Peridot's entire life as she flees from everything good she's ever had because of paranoia and feeling like her solution is the only correct one, and we see later that she regrets that choice and worries about what Peridot will think of her when she returns. In terms of whether their relationship can recover, I think things could go either way depending on how Peridot feels and how much effort Lapis is willing to put in to improving things, but my admittedly very biased opinion is that I think they could work things out even if it means tackling some hard truths about the flaws in their relationship. As someone whose been in a long term relationship for almost 7 years now, I'm kind of bemused when people call Lapis and Peridot's relationship as a whole toxic or abusive because of the side of it shown in Raising the Barn, because the communication problem they're having is pretty common in relationships and is something I think a lot of people struggle with. Lapis is a reactive person who has been through a lot, and Peridot knows this and wants to do everything she can to keep her from being upset even if it means hiding her feelings and bending over backwards to keep Lapis stable. This isn't a healthy dynamic or something that can be sustained, but it's something that can be fixed with communication and time.
The elephant in the room there obviously is that the one time Peridot is open about her feelings when they contradict Lapis's, Lapis reacts terribly. I don't think this was Lapis trying to hurt Peridot, I think she's just very driven by impulse and intense emotion, but nevertheless the damage is done. If Lapis and Peridot are going to be healthier for each other then Lapis needs to put in the work to show Peridot that she can be honest about her feelings, and that can be a really difficult thing to prove to someone once you've already broke their trust. In my own relationship, there have been many times where I've personally reacted to things in ways I ended up deeply regretting and that I had to put time into fixing. In every relationship, even when you think you're prepared for every possible conflict and have accounted for every personal flaw of yours, stuff happens and you will say and do things you regret because thats just a part of being a person. I relate to Peridot's struggles with holding back from letting Lapis know her honest thoughts as that's something I've similarly held back on and have only recently started being open about with my partner. It can be really, really hard contradicting someone you love, especially when they're hurting and you want to be their rock, but it's something important to the longterm health of a relationship.
I am really disappointed that Future never touched on Lapis and Peridot's relationship to each other after the finale and seemed to go out of its way to distance them from each other. I think that giving them a resolution is not only satisfying for their stories but also ties into the overarching themes of relationships and forgiveness in the show. Having a episode addressing the fallout of Lapis's decision and the way they're handling it emotionally could have been an opportunity for a mature message about how to handle hurting someone you care about that I think would tie in well with the story of Future and I'm saddened that we never saw that. I'm admittedly a little hurt by the lampshading of their relationship thats happened in recent years just because they are pretty blatantly queercoded and having that be backed up on feels uh...I don't wanna throw words around but it does make me feel a bit baited LOL
#txt#askz#SORRY if this has typos or is messy or nonsensical i wanted to edit it more but my brain is wwbbebwbb
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Really looking forward to reading Therapy Works in full when you post it! Do you think you could put all the snippets you've shared, and pit them in chronological order? If not, that's okay too! Another snippet would be fine.
I'm looking forward to this one too! Especially since it will be the first fic of my with the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad cabin! (If you've seen my rants about that.)
Let me see if I can find all the snippets I've posted!
It is obvious to him that Steve has issues, and that he isn’t dealing with them. And it is also obvious that he probably won’t start dealing with them without some helpful nudging in the right direction. He, himself, is all too familiar with that process. It had taken Rhodey and Pepper several years, (and then one solid putting-of-one’s-foot-down) before he had been convinced to give therapy a try.
He had done it though, because he had had friends to help get him onto that path.
Steve has… well, Steve has him now, apparently. Which is why he is now standing in front of his door, a pair ultra-waterproof boots in his hands.
...
“Whatz’ goin’ on?” Tony’s tongue feels a lump of clay. If it was an emergency JARVIS would just wake him up without worrying about Pepper, but for the life of him Tony can’t imagine another reason JARVIS would call him at four in the morning.
“Captain Rogers wished to know if you were awake,” JARVIS responds smartly. “I shall inform him you are indeed conscious.”
Huh? Tony pushes himself up in his bed, willing his brain to catch up. “Why’z he wanna know that?”
“I believe,” JARVIS says, like he’s spelling out something achingly simple. “You once stated he could call you instead of utilising the gym.”
...
Tony’s brain kickstarts and his eyes widen. “Wha—? Oh! Where is he?”
JARVIS continues over him like he hadn’t said anything. “Captain Rogers insisted on not disturbing you if you were not awake.”
“Right, of course,” Tony mutters, shoving back his blankets and glancing briefly at Pepper to make sure she’s still asleep. It doesn’t surprise him one bit that Steve had added that limiter. It also doesn’t surprise him that JARVIS had found a way around it.
...
Steve steps out and scans the room immediately, locating Tony at his tinkering desk. He looks tired, shadows under his eyes and a drawn expression on his face. His hands are in two tight fists by his side, but Tony is glad to see they lack the bloodied bandages from last time.
Steve pauses uncertainly on the threshold, his eyes flicking around nervously and Tony waves him inside.
“Come’on in,” he says, hoping his bedraggled hair reads as creative-genius-at-work and not recently-awoken-by-a-robot. “I was just fiddling with a few things.”
...
“I know it’s early,” Steve says suddenly. He holds himself stiffly, as though he isn’t quite sure he’s welcome yet. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
Tony shakes his head. “No,” he says decisively. “I’m glad you called. I meant what I said last time, but I was worried you wouldn’t take me up on it.”
Steve relaxes slightly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Well,” he says ruefully. “JARVIS did lock down the gym. And I figured you wanted the glass door to stay intact.” His shoulders roll in a shrug. “Guess JARVIS can be just as stubborn as me.”
...
The mention of insane asylums sets the wheels in his brain in motion. If Steve wasn’t sure if sanatoriums were still a thing, did he think that asylums were too?
Which is why, a few days after his early-morning movie night, Tony finds himself in his lab, several pages open in front of him as dives for the first time into what 1940s doctors actually thought about mental health.
It is all at once less bleak and more disheartening than he thought it would be.
...
At the same time as these and other treatments like lobotomies were being experimented with, psychotherapy and occupational therapists were slowly being brought in. Tony isn’t sure how much of a comfort that is though, because Steve spent most of the 40s at war. If he heard much about ‘mental hygiene’ treatments back then, he doubts it was the brand new Freudian theories.
And that leads him to another question. How much did Steve even know about these asylums, and how much of a concern were they for a man like him?
And a new one just for fun!
The more Tony thinks about it, the more he realises he has no idea how Steve actually learned everything he knows about the modern day. Part of him had always just assumed that SHIELD sat him down and laid it out for him, but even if that did happen, they could never have accounted for everything he needed to know.
Steve must have taught himself a lot of it alone.
#tumblr might remove all the paragraphing#but alas#therapy works#asks#my fic#fanfic#fanfiction#steve rogers#tony stark#wip
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Okay so my new OCs; there’s four of them and they’re all witches living in a small town with their own little coven. They all end up accused of murdering a boy named Lucas, aka the mayor’s son, since they were the last ones to see him alive and they all had some sort of history with him
The main character is Penny, the new girl in town. She and her little sister have recently moved in with their aunt and her daughter, Penny wasn’t aware of her witch heritage until her aunt informed her after she had an outburst of magic. Her ability is weather manipulation, mainly just wind and air, occasionally lightning if provoked enough. She’s the only one who doesn’t really have a solid previous history with Lucas, as she only moved to town a few months before he died
Her love interest is Chloe, star soccer player for the varsity team. She’s a smart and savvy witch, known to be a heartbreaker (she disagrees, she considers herself to be heartbroken, rather than the heartbreaker). Her main ability is the manipulation of time, it’s not as controlled as she would like it to be, but it’s still pretty impressive. The longest she’s ever been able to manipulate time is to go back twenty-four hours, and she can’t beat that, no matter how hard she’s tried. She dated Lucas’s younger brother for awhile and they broke up for some not-so-good reasons, which is her connection to Lucas (and something else, but that’s a secret for now)
Gigi is another main character, best friends with Chloe since the sixth grade. She’s beautiful, smart, and multi-talented (especially in artistic fields) but has a bit of dark side that has been surfacing as of late. She has a complicated relationship with her love interest, Hart, whom she’s known since she was in diapers but their relationship is strained for unknown reasons. Her ability is healing, and it works by her being able to manipulate the body on a molecular level. But she can also use her ability in other ways besides healing, but that’s another story. No one really knows what her relationship was with Lucas or her connection to him, just that something changed after she went to one of his “famous” parties
Brooke is the long-time best friend of Gigi and Chloe. She’s the eccentric free-spirit of the trio, more a social butterfly than the other two. She’s that one friend that always gets into the most wildest situations and you really don’t know how they manage it. But at the same time, she’s really the glue of the coven and they would probably be lost without her. Her main ability is illusions and she’s very talented in that aspect, often using her abilities in a reckless kind of way (something Gigi and Chloe often scold her on). Her history with Lucas is that he bullied her for years in school and she was overheard threatening him one day for an inappropriate comment he made about her
I really hope this wasn’t too rambly, I’m just really excited-
Bzjjskjsjjdkdjjjdjdhshhdjjsj Riley i would totally read this book in a heartbeat!!!!! I’m already like way too invested in the plot-
Lucas sexually assaulted Gigi at the party, I’m calling it right now. I will beat this son of a bitch up on a seconds notice, I swear to God.
I’m already so attached to them (especially Gigi) it’s concerning. Riley I need more!!!! Pleeeeeease give me anything you have on these characters, I will eat it up-
#riley!#riley’s ask#ik it might just sound like I’m being nice but i am 100% serious#everything you have about them gimmmmmme!!!#i am so hungry for this story-
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Now Playing! Tuesday, 9 August 2022:
Warren Zevon Warren Zevon (Asylum) (released in 1976)
In June I began listening to Warren Zevon’s catalog, one album per month until I listen to all of his albums (I have 16 of his albums). I began this adventure by reading two of his biographies one after the other, something I rarely do and something I will probably never do again. I finished Crystal Zevon’s book I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead: The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon on 31 May. She was his wife and Zevon requested that she write this book. Then on 7 June I completed C.M. Kushins’ biography Nothing’s Bad Luck: The Lives of Warren Zevon which I disliked. His was a glossy Zevon-wasn’t-that-troubled tome and as much as I disliked the man’s behaviors, Crystal’s book shows him as a true human: deeply talented but deeply flawed yet immensely charismatic and likable. Kushins was a fanboy and he tried to sugar coat the problems Zevon had in life.
Also in June I listened to The First Sessions, the CD of Zevon’s sessions as part of Lyme and Cybelle, the 1960s folk duo he was part of alongside Violet Santangelo. July saw me playing Zevon’s true debut, the 1969 Imperial album Wanted Dead or Alive which I thought was actually far better than it had any right to be. I believe it is a necessary album for Zevon fans as it captures the music and work of the musician he becomes known for. Certainly it isn’t flawless, but it is a fine listen and it isn’t quite as naive as I recalled it being.
Now in August I am playing his self-titled “debut” album which is his debut on Asylum (it came out eight years after that Imperial release). It is sheer coincidence that I am playing Marshall Crenshaw’s debut which I just announced as a candidate for my All Time Favorite Album in the same month as Zevon’s self titled ‘debut’ which I also believe is a staunch candidate for my All Time Favorite Album. I believe this Asylum debut is by far Zevon’s greatest album (a claim that is patently ridiculous considering I’ve never heard anything Zevon recorded after Learning To Flinch in 1993).
I bought my copy in Philadelphia during a trip to NYC, a pilgrimage I used to make often in the summer months. My long time friend rolled his eyes at my buying albums but he was accustomed to my doing so since he and I were probably ten years old. It was a lifetime activity for me and anyone who falls in with me may find it absurd but they fully expect to be drug to a record store if they are on vacation with me.
Warren Zevon is an album I have loved from the moment I put needle to groove back in the time when I bought this. It often feels as if every song has been a hit (not true) and I know this album inside out. A staple in my college households (back when no one heard of Zevon) and certainly a staple on my home stereo for the past 46 years! Claims can be made that this is one of the more perfect albums you can play. Every song on Side 1 is an absolute classic containing such gems as The French Inhaler, Hasten Down The Wind (the song Zevon thought he would be most remembered for), Mama Couldn’t Be Persuaded and honestly, I feel I could just name all six tracks here and be on solid ground.
Over on Side 2 is there a better song in all of existence than Carmelita, a song about a junkie who can’t afford his daily fix? The answer is of course: Mohammad’s Radio or I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead or the absolute greatest Zevon track Desperados Under The Eaves. The only track that ruffles me is Join Me In LA and even that is more than suitable for the album.
I play this album a lot and it has long been my favorite Zevon album. Truth be told and one reason I am doing a study of Zevon’s work is because by the time his fifth Asylum album came along (The Envoy) I lost interest in his work and completely believed he would never be able to top his first four Asylum albums. By the time he began the Artemis years (’99-’03) I found his fanbase annoying and I distanced myself from them even though I was an obnoxious Zevon fan during the Asylum years (at least from ‘76-’80), so I get their love for his lyricism and music, I just dislike what feels like the frat boy feel of Zevon fans and I distanced myself from that.
If you are going to get Zevon’s music you need to be sure and find the two disc Deluxe Edition of Warren Zevon which contains a bonus disc containing 15 bonus tracks. All of them are alternate takes or demos and live tracks. But there are gorgeous versions of Carmelita and Mohammad’s Radio as well as other alternates and demos of every song on the album proper. Were I ever get off my lazy behind and do a Top 125 of the 1970s, this album would challenge many albums for the top spot (including This Years Model). This album is brilliant and it is filled with some beautiful music and it most certainly is a true contender for my All Time Favorite Album. I never tired of this music.
(And for the perceptive, if you look really hard you can find Wanted Dead or Alive at the bottom of the photograph.)
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Rectify | Bucky Barnes
Part 35/37 | Part Thirty Four, Part Thirty Six
Summary: I've lived every day for the past five years looking over my shoulder. I knew they'd come for me, it was inevitable. I was foolish to think I could outrun my past. It's followed me everywhere I go, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Never would I have anticipated that the shadows would lead me to the light.
Bucky Barnes x OC
Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, alcohol consumption, graphic depictions of violence, sexual content, discussion of suicidal thoughts.
a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!
"Oh, what have they done to you?"
I think it's been close to a year since I've been sentenced to live out my days in the Raft. Although I don't know for sure, I've lost track. The days and nights blend into each other but I've stopped trying to keep track. In the end it doesn't matter, I'm here for the rest of my life. It doesn't matter if I've been here six months or three years. I'm going to die in here.
About a month or so ago the woman across from me was finally able to be free of this world. She fashioned her uniform into a tool and waited for the guards to switch shifts. I saw her prepare for it, I could tell she had been planning it for a while. I watched her tie knots of all sorts, trying to see which would hold the best. I could've said something, but I chose not to. What would be the point? She would just try again.
I've dropped a considerable amount of weight since being here. My bones protrude in areas that were once plump. But I don't care enough to do anything about it. Once again, what would be the point? If I die now, that means I won't have to suffer in here any longer. I've already lost everything worth living for. There's only one reason I haven't tried to follow the woman's footsteps. But I figure if I go from natural causes, it would be easier for him to accept it.
I stare dead ahead at the blank wall in front of me and listen to the same television program that plays every single day. I've had it memorized for a while now and it almost drives me mad. I close my eyes and say a silent prayer, asking to be taken in my sleep. I've never been lucky enough to have this prayer answered, but it's the one thing I keep hope for.
As I give into the unconsciousness the same scenario plays in my head. I see the silhouette with red eyes staring into my soul, she utters the same word like a ghostly whisper throughout my brain. It's probably just the psychosis at this point.
Another week passes.
Another week passes.
Another week passes.
I lay in the position I'm always in and stare at the wall. I pull my arms into my shirt and hug them close to me for warmth, though it's not much help. I hear a noise coming from one of the other cells and I pop my arms back through my shirt and sit up. I look out and see the newest arrival banging on the glass.
The poor man still has ambition. That'll soon fade. I watch as he bangs on the glass and yells for a guard. The man proclaims his innocence every single day. I don't know what he hopes to achieve by doing this, it's not like anyone ever gets out of here alive.
The guard hits the glass with his nightstick and tells the man to shut up and go back to his bed. The guards have no empathy for anyone in here. The man continues to yell at the guard, making threats against his life. I sigh, knowing what's next.
The guard opens the inmate's door and keeps his nightstick at his side. Before the man can do anything the guard beats him down and lands a few solid hits to the man's ribs. The man crumples up on the floor in pain as the guard exits the cell.
"Anyone else have anything to say?" He calls out the rest of us prisoners. As usual, I keep my mouth shut. Truth be told, I can't remember the last time I spoke. It's hard to remember what my voice even sounds like.
But there's no reason to speak. The guards here are very apt to take any sort of speech as a threat against them, and they're not afraid to use force. Even talking to the person in the next cell is frowned upon. I guess they think we're going to try and formulate an escape plan. We're in the middle of a body of water, it's highly unlikely. I think the guards use that as an excuse to keep us quiet. It didn't take me long to understand the guards. They're very similar to Hydra, but I would argue that they're worse, more cruel.
At least in Hydra I was able to socialize and speak. I was able to do basic human things. Here I'm diminished to something less than human. I'm sure the bugs in this place get treated with more dignity and respect than the prisoners do.
The guards progressively got more inhumane and cruel. When I first arrived here they were peaceful enough, there were rarely any issues. As time went on I began to notice little by little that people would get beat down for the littlest thing. I watched them and their mannerisms, I understood how they operated. If you pretend like you're not here then they tend to leave you alone. Sure, I still get heckled from time to time but I'll take that over a nightstick to the ribs any day.
I watch as the guard who just beat the man down stalks out of the room. It must be shift change already. The man on the floor slowly gets up and takes a seat on his bed. I see him spit some blood onto the ground. I hope he doesn't get punished for that either.
I turn back around and assume my position on the bed. I guess the excitement of the day is over with. Maybe there will be something again tomorrow. For the poor man's sake, I hope not. I close my eyes and listen to the soft buzzing sound of the awful fluorescent lights.
I find myself thinking of the past less and less nowadays. It used to comfort me, but I found it evoked more pain than anything. What's the point of remembering it? It's not like I'll ever have those comforts back ever again. I've forgotten a lot of things about the people I cared most about. I don't remember Steve's voice, and I can't really remember how it felt to be in Bucky's arms.
I miss them terribly, but I forced myself to stop thinking of them. A part of me hopes they've forgotten about me and moved on with their lives. I hope they've found happiness. I hope Bucky is happy and healthy, he deserves it the most.
My eyebrows scrunch together as I realize I haven't heard a new guard take the post yet. I know I would've heard it. I get out of my position and look out. I don't see anyone there. They never leave us unattended like this. I stand with a slight waver in my balance and walk up to the glass. I look to my right and left and still don't see a guard. This is highly unusual.
I see the other prisoners look around as well, they must've noticed it too. I squint my eyes as I notice the camera in the corner seems to be turned off. The red light isn't on. Maybe they're dealing with some sort of power outage or something? It's not entirely implausible that a big wave interfered with things. But it's more excitement for the day.
I look at the prisoner in the cell next to me and point at the camera. They nod their head, noticing the same thing I do. Within the blink of an eye, the lights go out. The cells and area in the middle are pitch black. Finally some peace and quiet and darkness. If this is a power outage, I better take advantage of it while I can.
I make my way over to the rock hard bed and lay on it, closing my eyes. I've been waiting for this for a long, long time . I won't let it go to waste. The darkness is nice, comforting almost. Nobody is making a sound either, which makes it even more perfect. If only I had a nice fluffy blanket, then this would truly be perfect.
I keep listening for something to give me a clue of what might be happening. I expect a guard will come in shortly and flash a light in my eyes, ruining the tranquility of the moment. However, that moment never comes. It must be one hell of a power outage.
I smile to myself, the first time I've smiled since I've been here. I never thought I'd be so happy for complete darkness. I guess it's the simple things in life that matter the most. I hold my arms close to my body to contain the small amount of heat I'm putting off. I have to make the most of what I have.
I lay peacefully and in complete bliss as I relish in the darkness. I wish this could last forever.
But like most things in my life, things don't stay favorable for very long.
I hear what seems to be something heavy slam against the door that the guards use to come and go. I listen intently, not yet moving from my spot. I hear another thud against the door. Maybe it's just the guards trying to get in. Perhaps the power outage locked the door.
I'm surprised a place like this doesn't have an extensive backup plan for this scenario. It's odd that they're being so thrown off by it. Another thud comes. I open my eyes and squint, trying to see anything in the darkness but to no avail.
I hear the others start whispering to one another, but their voices are too low for me to hear anything. Quite honestly, I don't have it in me to care about what they're saying. I bet they're asking each other what they think is going on, and all of them saying they aren't sure. Or maybe they're trying to think of a way to escape. If they have no sense, then that's surely what they're discussing.
I hear something coming from over by the door. It doesn't sound like another thud, it's like the door is being pried open. Looks like the guards finally figured a way back into the room. I listen as it sounds like a struggle to get the door open. The mechanics of the door squeak and grind against itself, making an unbearable metal against metal screech. If they could hurry up that would be spectacular.
I see a small light peak from the small opening in the door. It looks like there are multiple people trying to get it open. Maybe this will teach them that they need to be more prepared for situations like this. I watch as the door gets completely opened.
I can't really see how many people step into the room, but I can see that there's one light and multiple people. The light sweeps the room quickly, probably trying to see if any of the prisoners escaped. The light turns and begins looking in each cell. I close my eyes, not wanting to be blinded when they reach my cell.
I hear more whispers throughout the room. I'm surprised the guards haven't pried open the cell doors and beat on those who whisper. Through the thin skin of my eyelids I can tell the light is getting closer. The light comes into my cell and I swear they're purposefully pointing the light right in my eyes on purpose. What a bunch of pricks.
"There she is." I hear someone say. The light moves from my eyes and I open them. That definitely wasn't a guard. I see two figures outside of my cell door, the flashlight trained on the door. I see someone reach out and pull the door right off the hinges. What is this?
The two people step inside and they crouch in front of me. My eyes adjust to the light and I see two familiar faces. I must've fallen asleep, this is one weird dream.
"Oh, what have they done to you?" A cool hand pushes some of my thin hair out of my face. I sit up, this feels too real to be another dream. I squint, studying the faces in front of me.
"Grab her, we have to move." I feel myself being lifted off the bed and out of my cell. The other prisoners start yelling, demanding they be let out too. I look at the face in front of me and it's like I'm seeing a ghost.
#bucky barnes x oc#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky#bucky fanfic#hydra#bucky barnes fic#james buchanan barnes#marvel#steve rogers#the winter soldier#winter soldier#bucky barnes angst
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My Ranking of the Zelda Games I've Played
My sisters were ranking Zelda games, so of course I had to join in and overthink everything. So here are my...hot takes? Maybe? I haven't played Four Swords, Minish Cap, Spirit Tracks, A Link Between Worlds, Triforce Heroes, Breath of the Wild, or Tears of the Kingdom.
Ocarina of Time
In my opinion, the only Zelda game that fully achieves what I've always wanted from the franchise. It has an epic fantasy story, probably the best music (including music being an integral part of the gameplay and story), distinct and interesting character designs, challenging temples, and THE ACTUAL BEST COMPANION IN THE ENTIRE FRANCHISE NO CONTEST. This Link is also my favorite, as he seems one of the most serious and lonely ones, very fitting for the high stakes of his quest. As a bonus, this is also the only game where you get to switch between being a child and an adult, which makes for interesting gameplay and story ramifications. All the nostalgia is there, but it's not just nostalgia, either. I've played this game so many times (in the original version, Master Quest, and various randomizers) that I'm pretty confident I know at least 95% of everything there is to know about this game. It feels like home.
2. A Link to the Past
The one after OoT that comes closest to the ideal. It still has that epic fantasy feel, despite the much simpler graphics - which look very pretty nonetheless, especially in the GBA remake. I think this game has one of the strongest beginnings, because instead of starting you out in a calm little village to ease you into the quest, this game starts you out with Link following his uncle through a torrential thunderstorm to Hyrule Castle, and then coming upon his uncle as he's dying and taking up his sword and shield to go save the princess! The music is excellent (Hyrule Castle a;ldkfjsd;lkfjds;klfj), the temples/dungeons are challenging, and I love the concept of going back and forth between the Light World and the Dark World. (Less cool is Link turning into a pink bunny the first time he goes to the Dark World, but still.) There's a reason this one is a classic. Also, this game has hands-down the best title in the entire franchise. Everyone else can go home.
3. Phantom Hourglass
I kind of surprised myself at how high I ranked this one, especially since I've only played it once almost ten years ago. But this game surprised me so pleasantly, I still think of it fondly. First and foremost is my whole theory about how Ciela is actually Navi - that theory healed something that had been broken in my heart for over ten years; I didn't realize how much I needed that until I heard Ciela's cheery little, "Hey!" For that matter, I felt like the whole game was full of fun, endearing throwbacks - mostly to WW, of course, but to plenty of other Zelda games as well, like the island with all the Gorons that plays the Goron music we all know and love. I really enjoyed the twists in the story, simple as they were, and overall the whole thing felt like a bite-sized WW. I've heard a lot of people complaining about having to keep on going back to the Temple of the Ocean King over and over again, but that was actually one of my favorite parts of the game. It was challenging, but in a way that made me want to keep trying - which is more than I could say for most of the temples in the newer games. So, while the art style is not my favorite and the whole game is pretty far from my ideal of what a Zelda game should be, I enjoyed this game so much that I think it deserves to go in my top three.
4. Majora's Mask
This is a very solid game, taking a lot of the things that make OoT great and expanding on them. I really like how many NPCs there are and how they all have a story and things you can do to help them. It's also cool to play as Child Link but be able to use a lot of items he couldn't in OoT, like the hookshot or riding on Epona. The music is excellent, and even the new ocarina songs are memorable and distinct. It's really fun and interesting to be able to turn into different races, and all the different effects that come from wearing the masks feels like a natural progression from the mask sidequest in OoT. So, when trying to be objective about this, I have to put this one pretty high on the list, but I just couldn't put it in my top three. The main reason for that is that I find the story very depressing, and the overall feel of the game oppressive. The story is framed by Link's search for Navi, which he doesn't succeed in. The primary theme of the game is death, and no matter how many times you turn back time to fix things again, you know that inevitably the moon is going to fall in three days. It's like a pointless, desperate cycle that you get stuck in, and even if you help someone out with their problems, you have to turn back time again and it's like you never did any of that. The majority of the game makes me feel sad, hopeless, or anxious. So even though I have to acknowledge this is a really good game, I can never really bring myself to replay it.
5. Skyward Sword
I ended up really liking this game. Part of that was because of the improved motion controls since Twilight Princess, so it felt more like actually swinging a sword around instead of just twitching your hand (despite the tendency to dorkily run around with your sword sticking straight up in the air). I don't really like the characters as much - they tend to be either annoying or just kind of blah for the most part - but I can't deny that this game is just fun. I had fun with all of the bosses, especially Ghirahim and Demise. And speaking of which, the final battle against Demise/Ganon has got to be the most epic battle in the entire franchise! I have never felt cooler than I did summoning lightning to my sword and smiting the King of Evil with it. I also really liked the Silent Realm levels, as nerve-wracking as they can be. Unfortunately, the game also suffers from a lot of less-than-stellar elements, not least of which is Fi. Ugh, ugh, ugh, worst companion EVER >_< I also didn't really like the Loftwings; they didn't end up being as fun of a gameplay element as they sounded at first. Overall, the temples tended to be pretty but not as challenging as I wanted them to be. And then there's the Oocca x.x What on EARTH. So Skyward Sword is a really mixed bag for me.
6. Oracle of Seasons/Oracle of Ages
Since these are very closely linked and I feel almost the same about both, I decided to lump them together. I really like the look and feel of these games; there's something very nostalgic and comforting about them. Oracle of Seasons was actually the first Zelda game I ever played a bit of, and it intrigued me so much that's how I got into the franchise in the first place. So it's kind of funny that I actually only got around to playing these games a couple years ago. But they ended up being really fun, with interesting gameplay and good music. Points get taken off for not having a ton of story, and actually requiring you to trade rings through the Link Cable if you want to explore everywhere.
7. The Wind Waker
This is another game that's really pretty solid, but I just didn't care for it much personally. I don't like the Toon Link art style, and didn't find the storyline that compelling. Zelda being Tetra was a really fun way to switch things up, but I didn't like how her personality did a complete 180 once she found out the truth about herself. It would have been more interesting if her piratey side showed through more even as she was trying to be a princess. I did enjoy the world, and it was fun to explore on a boat instead of on foot or on horseback. But it didn't feel much like a Zelda game - somehow, most of the game feels less Zelda-like to me than PH, even though they take place in the same world. Also, while there was some good music in the game, I hated the Wind Waker songs. None of them were memorable, so it was really hard to keep track of which ones did what.
8. Link's Awakening
It's kind of a shame that this game goes so far down my list, because it was the first Zelda game I ever owned. I didn't realize what I was getting into, I just wanted to swing a sword around after trying out Oracle of Seasons. Story-wise, I really don't like this game. There's such a dissonance between the cutesy, silly adventures you go on…in pursuit of waking up a flying whale who is dreaming the entire island and all of its inhabitants into existence, so as soon as you wake the Wind Fish up to escape the island, all the places you've become familiar with and all the friends you've made just go *poof*. Yeah, 'cause that's not depressing! The whole game just left me feeling weird and unsettled. If you don't think about any of the implications of what you're doing, though, it's a fun, cute little game, a lot like the Oracle games. I found it much harder than those, though that might have been because I was much younger and less experienced of a gamer when I played this one. I will say that the music in this game is fantastic. I used to go to the square where Marin stands around singing the Ballad of the Wind Fish, and just sit there to let that tune soothe me.
9. Twilight Princess
On paper, this one should be one of my favorites, because it seems like one of the games that hits closest to my ideal of what a Zelda game should be, with an epic fantasy story and the fundamental elements of Link going to the castle to rescue Princess Zelda from Ganondorf. But the reason this goes so far down on my list is that I was expecting it to be that ideal, and it fell really short of the mark, so the disappointment was much worse than games like SS, where it didn't look much like my ideal at all, so I wasn't expecting it to be. The concept of Link turning into a wolf is really cool, and I do like how the Twilight Realm is kind of like the Dark World, but distinctly different. Midna is probably the second-best companion; I like how snarky she can be, and she gets more backstory than most companions do. The climax is pretty cool, and I love how Zelda actually takes part in the battle - until SS blew it out of the water, I might have said TP had the best final showdown. There were also some cool new items - the Spinner being my favorite. But I really didn't like the drab color scheme that made everything look the same sort of muddy brown. Instead of beautiful, fantastical locations, everything just kind of blurs together in my mind, till I can barely remember any of it. I also couldn't stand most of the NPCs, who were either annoying, ugly, or both. None of the music was memorable except for melodies they reprised from previous games, and in some cases (like Kakariko Village) they made it so much worse I wish they'd done something completely different instead. And don't even get me started on the awful off-key howling you have to do! When you compare it to the beautiful tunes you can play on the ocarina or the harp…. Yeah, I was mostly just disappointed with this game and never want to play it again.
10. The Legend of Zelda/The Adventure of Link
I probably shouldn't even put these on the list, because I never got anywhere close to beating them, but I have played some of them, and the reason I stopped was because I realized I didn't like them at all. I appreciate what they gave us, because if not for the success of these two games, none of the ones I love would exist. But…I just find NES-era games to be practically unplayable, sorry :/ The graphics look really ugly to me, and the gameplay is too clunky. It's gotta be SNES-era or later.
#zelda#legend of zelda#*crash smash* *stomps all over your hopes and dreams*#sorry if i've offended your favorite game or something ^^'#i just have very strong opinions on the zelda franchise#which is partly why i've more or less decided not to play any more#i'm pretty well reconciled by now to the knowledge that none of them will live up to my ideal#nor are they going to do something ACTUALLY interesting like a sci-fi zelda or a cowboy zelda
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Entry Twenty - Saturday, January 28 2023
It has officially been the longest I’ve gone between the posts, over a year at this point. A decent amount has changed since December 2021 when I last updated this thing. I finally actually moved to KC since my time in Manhattan came to an end and I started a new job a few weeks ago. I’m still definitely depressed, but being in somewhere with plenty to do and tons of friends has made me probably the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Having a more regular schedule has also helped, since I don’t have to drive four hours round trip to another city for work now that I actually live here. I live by myself now which is a huge plus. I loved my old roommates but living alone is much more ideal for just how I am as a person. I play magic basically every week in person at this point which is fucking awesome, this game is so much fun and so many cool people play it. I was skimming the post before this and talked a lot about just starting my first actual corporate level job so I’ll touch on that again. First thing’s first, working from home is infinitely better than being in office. Being able to just fuck around when I have down time is a huge plus for me, along with just being able to get out of bed later than normal, etc. If you get a job that requires you to work in office more than like one day a week after an initial training period look for other options unless you really like being in office for some reason. Also onto the big news of me starting a new job. It seems like I didn’t really go into specifics about what exactly my job was in the previous post, so I’ll continue that trend here. I left my old job for a myriad of reasons, being things like pay, benefits, number of days per week in office, etc. I liked most of my coworkers and the handful of you that I was/am actual friends with know who you are and are the reason I stayed as long as I did. The breaking point for me was when I got to my end of year review and earned a very high rating and was told I basically do everything above average, especially for only being in industry for a year, and they gave be a forty-one cent an hour raise from $20.50 to $20.91. I asked my supervisor if there was any way to get more because of my performance (for reference people who got at or below average got the same percentage increase as I did), and they basically spent an hour talking in circles about company policy, there’s nothing they can do, blah blah blah. So I immediately updated my LinkedIn and started looking for new jobs. Low and behold, there’s a company in the same industry half that is half the drive time from my apartment to my old job, has better benefits, offered me $55k/year starting (about $27/hour), and also I was going to get to learn how to do things I had been wanting to learn about for a pretty significant portion of my time at the old job. The only downside was saying goodbye to some of my customers and a handful of coworkers who I do still miss seeing on a regular basis. From what I’ve been told though, some of the people I did say goodbye to were able to get a pretty good raise because another one of the more competent employees left about the same time I did, so it’s not all bad I guess. I truly am probably the happiest on a day to day basis that I’ve been in a long time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days. Today started out pretty good, I went thrifting with a friend I haven’t hung out with in months and got some good stuff. We also got some solid Chinese food (the crab rangoon was solid and the general tso’s was ok but still good). I got home and wanted to take a nap since I didn’t get much sleep last night but that just didn’t happen and I think that’s why I feel as shitty as I do right now. Being tired and the coming down from spending most of a Friday evening with a lot of friends and then immediately getting up and going to hang out with another friend the following morning can hit pretty hard. I’m hoping to sleep like a damn rock tonight but I know that’s not going to happen since I don’t every get good sleep, but hey who knows. Either way, I’m going to try and go to bed now so it’s ya boi, AW, signing off.
P.S. it seems like I’ve been pretty hit or miss with using the tags, so I’m going to just stop using them entirely. It’s a lot of work and I just don’t feel like it lol.
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This is How Canada Handles Immigration Applications - Aptech Visa
Immigration News from Canada: Following allegations of systemic discrimination at Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship Canada (IRCC), the federal government is outlining how Canadian immigration officials will make decisions.
The immigration department notes in Decision Making: Standard of Review and Process for Making a Reasonable Decision that the Supreme Court of Canada's decision in the case of Alexander Vavilov makes it clear that all decisions by the government must be both:
Based on internally-coherent reasoning, and
Supported as per the legitimate and verifiable setting of the choice.
Despite his parents' illegal activities in Canada, Vavilov, the son of two Russian spies, was eventually allowed to keep his Canadian citizenship.
However, this is not the only incident that has raised concerns about discrimination in the Canadian immigration system.
The federal government heard from many Canadians with lived experiences of racism and discrimination during its engagement sessions to develop its Anti-Racism Strategy in late 2018 and early 2019.
In addition, in a report prepared for the IRCC by Pollara Strategic Insights and released late last year, many employees and supervisors at the immigration department were described as using terms considered offensive to their racialized coworkers.
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"Canada is solid in view of our disparities, not despite them." Unfortunately, bigotry and separation exist in Canada." Challenges remain in fully embracing diversity, openness, and cooperation," the federal government notes on its website.
"It is important that Canada confronts oppression any individual or gathering in light of their religion or potentially nationality, which is the reason the Government of Canada has focused on drawing in people in general in fostering another bureaucratic enemy of prejudice system."
Canada has issued these new guidelines to immigration officers to help them make good decisions as it works to prevent racism and other forms of discrimination in its bureaucracy.
Decision-Making Guidelines of the IRCC Follow the Nine-Step Procedure
The most recent guidelines outline a nine-step process for immigration officials to follow when making decisions.
The first step is to simply determine which requirements must be met.
"Every application classification has prerequisites that should be met or fulfilled before a choice can be made." "These necessities are determined in the material regulation, and officials are provided guidance in the pertinent program conveyance directions," the rules state.
The next step is to determine which facts must be proven.
"During this decision-making stage, an official recognizes the realities that should be demonstrated in light of the data within reach." "The realities should be applicable to the choice," the rules state.
Once the evidence is in front of the immigration officer, he or she must ensure that the appropriate standard of proof is applied.
According to the most recent guidelines, four levels of proof may be required.
Immigration to Canada - Free Points Calculator
They are listed in descending order from lowest to highest.
Mere possibility or suspicion - an unsubstantiated possibility;
Reasonable grounds to believe - a genuine belief in a serious possibility that a fact has been established based on credible evidence;
Balance of probabilities - refers to circumstances in which the existence of a fact is more likely than its non-existence, and the issue to be determined is not only possible, but probable, rather than improbable, and
Without a reasonable doubt
Officers of the IRCC will base their decisions on the 'balance of probabilities' standard of proof.
Since migration procedures and choices are affable in nature," the rules express, "the overall norm of verification relevant to common matters - equilibrium of probabilities - applies."
"Saying something is demonstrated on an equilibrium of probabilities implies that it is very likely obvious or plausible."
The immigration official must then figure out which proof, whether narrative, physical, or verbal, is pertinent.
That's what the rules express "reports are the most well-known sort of proof submitted to validate the attestations made in an application."
"In any case, narrative proof might be enhanced with verbal proof assembled and recorded by the decision maker during and after a meeting with the candidate or another person who has important information."
Evidence is considered relevant when it is related to an element that the applicant must establish.
"The applicant bears the burden of proving that all requirements are met," the guidelines state. "The candidate should give adequate proof to fulfil the decision maker that the application's necessities have been met."
You can also read the latest Canada Immigration News and Draw Updates here. If you are interested in studying in Canada then for more info, please click study abroad consultants in Delhi
The credibility of evidence must be determined by immigration officers.
Immigration officers must then evaluate the credibility of the evidence in front of them, determining whether it meets the standard of proof required for each element of the application to be considered proven.
Officers should look for the following when evaluating the credibility of documentary evidence:
Inconsistencies or spelling mistakes (especially if the document purports to be an official document);
Inconsistencies between the document in question and other reliable information;
the presence of bias;
Indications of alterations or forgery;
Indications that the document was fabricated, and
Document damage that impairs legibility
When verbal evidence received during interviews, oral hearings, or verifications contains contradictions or inconsistencies, is incoherent or vague, or is presented in a way that suggests the person providing it is untrustworthy, it can be called into question.
The guidelines also state that the immigration officer must decide how much weight to give to each piece of evidence.
Also read: Canada government to implement a new strategy for Canada Immigration Backlog
Untrustworthy evidence will be given less weight in decision-making.
"Endless, ambiguous, or doubtful proof ought to be given less weight than immediate, itemized, and unrefuted proof," the rules state "For example, if stamps in their passport show entry into other countries, a person's statement that they have never left Canada would be given little weight."
After reviewing all relevant evidence, and determining its credibility and probative value, an officer must decide whether the evidence is sufficient.
That's what the rules express "the candidate need just fulfill an official of the realities in view of equilibrium of probabilities." "An official ought not to be excessively dubious or distrustful of the proof introduced."That approach contradicts the process's underlying presumption of truth."
The final two steps are for the immigration officer to make a fair decision without disregarding any evidence and then record the decision. Immigration officials keep track of their decisions in order to provide accountability, transparency, and traceability.
When a decision is challenged in court, the federal court can review those records.
Also read: Best Reasons for Immigrating to Canada and Raising a Family
Immigration officers are advised to:
Use neutral, unbiased, and comprehensible language in their notes to file, decision templates or letters, and in the Global Case Management System (GCMS);
Edit the notes, as different mistakes (for instance, genuine, typographical) could cause the reviewing court to scrutinize a maker’s precision and dependability on additional considerable issues;
list all dates in chronological order and provide additional information, such as new evidence;
Make certain that all critical issues have been addressed and evaluated;
Include an assessment of the facts and evidence relied on, as well as the relevant legislative provisions and reasoning; and
Conduct a final review of the notes to ensure that their analysis backs up the conclusions and is internally consistent.
For more info, please call: +91-7503832132, +91-9131059075, +91-8447281370, Write to us at: [email protected] and Fill out the Free Canada Immigration Assessment Form
Source Url: https://aptechglobalimmigration.blogspot.com/2022/07/this-is-how-canada-handles-immigration.html
#Canada Express Entry#Canada PNP#Canada Immigration#Canada Immigration Process#Canada immigration Eligibility#Canada Immigration Points#Canada PR
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Examining this image in the latest promo:
That’s Luz and Hunter in the middle, and I think this also confirms that they are in somebody’s mind, possibly Belos’ mind, as they’re being pulled out like how they were in Understanding Willow. The paintings on the side also support this, but it’s kind of concerning if we can go from fancy golden hall to spooky blue forest. I think this part of Belos’ mind is cut off, probably to do with bad memories, which must have been so bad that even his mind hides it for him.
I’m a solid “Belos is Philip Wittebane” believer, so I believe this part of the mind is from his time as Philip Wittebane. Obviously, something bad enough had to happen that Belos changed his identity and pretended to vanish, and for himself to cut this off and never tell anyone about it. In the circle on the left, there’s an image of someone running to a glowing portal, and my guess is that it’s his brother, who I will dub William as I’m a firm believer. I already have my guesses, which I will post eventually, but to sum it up, William wanted to leave when Philip didn’t. We can tell they’re in the Boiling Isles, probably Bonesborough as that’s where Luz also ended up, by the giant rib on the left hand side.
Then, moving onto lil’ ourple dude! I know earlier I said that I don’t think this is Belos, but for simplicity’s sake and because it seems more right, I’ll dub him as inner kid Belos. I think that, by the image, inner kid Belos was seen where wasn’t supposed to be seen, either in a memory or roaming around them like some kind of ghost. When he was spotted, he probably ran, leading them into the creepy trauma forest or disappearing.
I’m partially convinced the curse Belos has will be there, lurking, or atleast some kind of other mind threat which Belos keeps away for obvious reasons. It will threaten Luz and Hunter, to which this Hollow Knight fucker will come out and battle it, or distract it enough for them to run.
I’m not sure which one it is, but I think there’s a reason this image is covered up with a massive “E”. If Belos is Philip, and these are all of Philip’s memories, my guess is that this is the crucial moment where Philip entered the Boiling Isles with his brother guided by “a witch”. “A witch” probably being the Collector, by the height since the Collector is very tall and obviously by the giant smiling sun and moon in the background. Since Dana said we won’t technically meet the Collector, I’m assuming they’re only being shown in flashbacks or in the past, and they may be dead since they’re talking to the Wittebanes from over four hundred years ago and capturing the Owl Beast (and possibly putting it into a curse).
Basically, the Collector was the witch that led the Wittebane brothers into the Boiling Isles, which isn’t great as the Collector is a sketchy bastard. William wanted to leave, or tried to, but it didn’t work. Belos has heavy memories attached to his time as Philip, and shuts it off from himself. He was multiple inner beings, due to the curse and his own internal conflict, one of them being a younger version of himself and possibly his cursed form.
#the owl house#toh#the owl house spoilers#the owl house theory#toh spoilers#toh theory#philip wittebane#emperor belos#collector#the collector toh
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Sugar, Spice, and a Heart to Entice
AKA: Jango Fett speedruns a romance with someone who should be his enemy. (It's okay. We know he makes bad choices.)
Note: Ahsoka uses the pseudonym "Ashla" in this fic.
Warnings: slavery, references to drug use, crude sex jokes, undressing of an unconscious person (for medical reasons)
----
The girl that they shove into the chains next to him is... worrying.
(Well, probably a girl--he'll adjust later if it turns out he's wrong.)
She's not that much younger than him, he thinks. It's hard to tell, with the way her skin is taut over muscle and bone, too little water and too little sleep, and probably not enough food for whatever labor she's been doing. He's also, admittedly, not great at gauging ages in the first place, and certainly not for Togruta. Still, he thinks it's safe to say that they're close in age, and that she's probably younger than him.
She's lucky, by some measure. The spice ship is terrible, but it's probably better than the fate tog girls are usually subject to in this industry. They're hazardous conditions, and violent ones, but Jango's yet to see a slave here stripped of their clothing for anything other than a whipping.
He thinks it's probably a matter of money. That kind of violation lowers the profit margins, he imagines. Spice is more lucrative than anything, and pain is a better motivator than... well.
So she's lucky, by that measure, and that measure alone.
They clap her in bindings before he even sees her, even though she's unconscious, and bring her sometime in the night cycle. Jango doesn't have a lot of pity left in him, but some goes out to her. He won't say she's too young for this, because nobody is ever old enough for slavery, nor do slavers have any compunctions about selling babes in arms, but Jango would wager she's already led a hard life.
She's fairly covered, but what little is visible shows enough old battle wounds that he can't imagine she's stayed off of battlefields. He knows how to read a Togruta's markings for stress history, too, and hers tell a story. Her facial marks are thin and delicate, and he'd say they're certainly more complex than the average; the striation on her lekku and montrals is thin and jagged, like marble. It's pretty enough, but it's also a sign of the fact that her life has likely been anything but easy. Some of it might be genetics, and he hopes it is, but with the scars he can see... he doubts it's much.
"Keep that one alive," the overseer orders, eyes on Jango and hand gesturing at the tog girl.
He leaves.
Jango isn't sure what they're hoping to get out of putting her with him. The room is built for four, yes, but they usually don't try to have anyone share with Jango. Maybe they ran out of room, or just assumed Jango was the most likely to know field medicine, or just figured there wouldn't be any trouble until she woke.
As he gets closer, his confusion grows. The tog's got burns all over, ugly ones that aren't going to heal cleanly without bacta. They're going to get infected, as likely as not. He hasn't got much besides water in here, but the overseer's left behind a box of what looks like bandages. If he's lucky, there's burn cream in there.
(He's not lucky.)
He works slowly, careful of every movement. He builds up a story in his head as he does, based on the wounds he finds and what he starts to notice of the clothing. He can't see all the details, not in what little light he has, but there's plenty to notice.
He hadn't realized, with how dim it is, but most of what she's got on as an outer layer is hardened leather, real leather, not synth. There are attachment points for armor at the shoulders and hips, and he thinks he sees signs of wear for vambraces and greaves. She's no Mando'verde, not with how he can see that the fabric at her torso and upper legs is intended to stay light and flexible and uncovered, but the crafting of the leather layers is familiar. He thinks she might have contacts among Mando armorers.
She might even wear beskar, if she's impressed the right person.
The wounds are recent, and unfamiliar, and he thinks she was probably fought into chains, rather than bought in them. She's a captive, not a purchase, or maybe... maybe they just found an unconscious woman, and decided that she was worth keeping.
He thinks she lost a fight, or won but with great injuries, and just... stumbled off and collapsed. He gets the feeling no one on board the ship could have fought this woman, except for himself. It's not based on much, not until he can see her move, but he's got good instincts for that sort of thing.
Jango keeps his assessment of her torso quick and clinical, not even bothering to mentally apologize for stripping her bare. This is medical, and he's not a doctor, not even a field medic, but he's professional nonetheless. Even though there's nothing in the box but bandages, not even the burn cream he'd hoped for, he'd still rather know if there's a broken rib to worry about. He doesn't want to wait for her to wake up and then find out she's got a punctured lung, even if he can't do anything about it. He finds bruising, but... he thinks that if anything is broken, it's hairline at most.
Lucky, he thinks again, in the unluckiest situations.
She doesn't wake that cycle. It's all he can do to get some water in her, dripped into her mouth in a trickle, but it's something.
----
When the Togruta girl wakes up, it's sudden. Jango is wiping down her lekku with a wet cloth in hopes of staving off a fever, kneeling next to the bunk. She opens her eyes, stiffens with a sharp breath, and then twists off the bed. Before he's fully processed this, her legs are up and around his neck, and then he's being wrenched to the side and onto the filthy ground, cheek grinding down into the grit. He feels a bony knee press into his spine, and the growl of a predator.
"Where am I?" the tog girl demands.
"Spice ship," he says, and oh but this place has ruined him for fights; he's having trouble breathing from whatever she's done to him, and she doesn't even have the use of her hands. "Deep space. You're in the slave cells. Don't mess with the collar, it'll explode if you try to remove it."
"Spice refinery?" she repeats, sounding completely baffled. He gives her a second to process, but she blindsides him. "Someone got me in their hands and they went for spice slavery?"
"As opposed to..." he really hopes she gets off soon.
She doesn't answer him immediately, and he can't get a look at her face. He gets his arms out to the sides, plants them to the floor, and shoves back. She doesn't fall off, but she does slide to the side to sit on the floor.
The expression she's got is best described as 'shell-shocked,' he thinks.
"You don't know me," she says, faint and confused. He shakes his head; he's pretty sure he'd have recognized her if he'd known her at all, given the time he's spent cleaning her wounds and trying to keep her alive. She laughs, breathless and a tad hysterical. "You don't--fuck. You don't know me. That's... great. Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Don't know how they missed it, but okay."
"Bounty on your head?" he guesses.
She smiles, thin and unpleasant. "Something like that."
"Thought as much. You're built like a fighter." He intends it as a compliment, but he doesn't think she takes it as one.
"I've never had a choice otherwise," she says, and when she next looks around, it's to find a place to sit. She pushes herself up to the thin mattress of the cot behind her, and Jango mirrors her on the cot across the room. It's not his bed, technically, but it's not like there's anyone to complain. She frowns at him; it's not a rude look, he thinks, but an attempt to put something unfamiliar in place. "What legion were you with?"
He blinks at her. He's been part of an army, but never one that big. "Legion?"
"Were you with special forces?" she tries again. "Or--wait, did you even get off Kamino before--"
"I'm not whoever you think I am," he tells her. "None of that means anything to me. I know what a legion is, but I've never had reason to be part of one."
"But you're..." she trails off, brow furrowed. "I guess just a similar face, then."
"To who?"
"The clones?" she hazards, as if that clears anything at all up. "I have no idea where we are; maybe the war holos never made it out far enough for you to know what they looked like..."
"Which war?" he asks, because he feels like he'd probably have heard of a war that used clones, especially one that had enough holos spread around for this woman to expect him to know what the clones in question look like.
"The... the clone war," she says hesitantly. "With the Separatists?"
None of that means anything to him.
It must show in his face, because her brow furrows, and her eyes go wide in a way he doesn't like. He can't tell if her skin's losing color or anything, but he's pretty sure the curl at the tip of one lek is a sign of anxiety. He's not sure how to help, but part of him already decided he liked this woman, just on the suspicion that she was friendly to Mandalorians.
(It's been a solid year and a half since Jango has had anything approaching a friend. He may be, subconsciously, a little desperate.)
"What's your name?" she asks, voice pitching in discomfort, and tight as a garotte.
"Jango Fett."
She closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, and... he can't see, can't know if she's trembling, but he thinks she is. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and breathes in sharply. It's a shaky breath, and he doesn't like that much, either.
"Fuck," she repeats. "No wonder--fuck."
He gives her a few seconds, but she doesn't elaborate. He asks another question instead. "Do I get to know your name?"
Her eyes crack open, and then she sits up straight and looks him over. Her lips purse, and she comes to some decision, though he's at a loss for what. "Call me Ashla. She/her, if you'd rather stick to Basic."
Fake name. Alright. She mentioned a bounty, so it's probably about that.
"Well met, Ashla."
She laughs, empty and painful. She swears in a mix of Huttese and Mando'a, and a few languages he doesn't even recognize. The Core accent on her Mando'a is strong, but he thinks whoever taught her might have been from Concord Dawn.
"How old are you, if you don't--"
"I'm twenty-one," she says. He was right; she's only two years younger than him. "At least... fuck, okay. What's the date?"
He tells her, and she screws up her brow and mouths something to herself. He's not entirely sure what.
"How long ago was..." she trails off.
"Was what?"
She presses a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what year it is."
Ah. Well, he can help with that much. He tells her that, too.
Ashla drops her hand. She visibly mulls it over, eyes on the underside of the bunk above her. He has no idea what she's thinking.
"Why aren't there other people in this room?"
"Weak ones couldn't sleep because I'm 'too intimidating,' and the rest kept trying to throw their weight around." He shrugs at the look she points his way. "I'm not dumb enough to start a fight with a bomb around my neck, but I'm not letting someone knock me around so they can earn a reputation."
She purses her lips, but lets it lie. "You let me take you down, then?"
"You had the advantage of surprise," he says, and doesn't bother to list every other advantage. She's better fed than he is, has spent less time in spice-suffused air, was unconscious and resting while he was awake to keep an eye on her fever. He's got the feeling she already knows.
When she speaks again, it's low and in fluent Mando'a, heavily accented though it may be.
"You'd get out of here eventually," she tells him, eyes half shut. "But you'll get out faster with my help, Mand'alor."
His stomach twists.
----
"They are either very stupid, or very cheap," Ashla mutters a day later, when he's supposedly helping her change some bandages. It gives him the excuse of leaning in close.
"Probably the former," he says.
She grins, and then stiffens and hisses out a low breath as he pours some of the stolen whiskey over one of the burns. It's not a real disinfectant, but it's the best they've got at the moment. Jango still isn't sure how she managed to get it from the overseers without them noticing, but he's quickly gotten the gist that she's a fair shot sneakier than he is.
"What did they do?" he asks, and she huffs out a laugh.
"I need you to promise you won't try to kill me," she says, and he stills.
She seems to be waiting on his response. Great. "That's not an auspicious start, Ashla."
"Eh, I've survived more than my fair share of people trying to kill me. No offense, bro, but I could take you," she says.
She's probably right in their current circumstances. "Let's hear it."
"I left the Jedi Order when I was seventeen."
The whiskey bottle slips from his fingers.
An invisible hand catches it, and it settles quietly on the floor of their cell. No guards will come running. It's a damning sight, for him.
A Jedi.
A Jedi who--who left.
Jedi committed Galidraan, but she left three years before that, but she was--was--
She has her back to him, trusting.
Or just arrogant.
She phrased it that way on purpose, phrased it so he'd know she left before he--before--
"I was framed by my friend for a terrorist attack," she says, and he can't find his voice to tell her to stop talking. "And sentenced to death by a non-Jedi military tribunal for it. By the time they figured out I wasn't guilty, I'd already been kicked out."
He forces his hands to his knees, grips at the bones that are too close to the skin, and orders himself to breathe.
Ashla turns on the spot, blinks at him. "I'm telling you this because it's how we're going to get out."
"Your people killed mine."
"I wasn't a Jedi when Galidraan happened," she says. There's more she wants to say, he's sure, but she keeps the words locked behind her teeth. That might be a good thing.
"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"
"Only for long enough to get out of here," she tells him. She shrugs, easy as anything. She's done this before, maybe. "Trust me, I have plenty of reasons to hate you, too, but I'm a little more concerned about getting this ship taken into custody, and having all the slaves freed."
"And you can just... make that happen."
"I told you, they're either stupid or skint," she says, with that same disarming grin. "I had lightsabers on me, and they kept them on the ship. They haven't drugged me since I woke up. They put me in normal cuffs, Jango."
He hates the way his name sounds on her tongue.
He hates the fact that he sees her plan already.
"You don't even need me," he points out, resisting the urge to try to kill her here and now. He doesn't have his armor. He doesn't have weapons. He's good, but she's got the Force and thighs that can crush a bantha skull.
"I'm not exactly... legit," she admits with a grimace. "Once you're back in Mandalorian space, you at least have an identity. People that will give you a place to stay. A chain code."
"And you don't."
She smiles, brittle. "Give me a week to scope out what I need and get us out of here, and maybe I'll explain."
A week. Fine.
And once they're out of here, and he has a blaster and a meal and a good night's sleep, he'll handle her.
----
He hates the fact that he likes her, still. People had already noticed, even just one day in. The first time someone notices he's giving Ashla the cold shoulder in the workroom, they joke at him about her not putting out. He's known her one day, and they think--
He stops the thought in its tracks.
Jango doesn't start fights here, but he is tempted.
"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Ashla simpers, sweet as spun sugar. "I bite."
She smiles, every pearly white tooth on display. The fangs near glint in the light. She eyes the speaker, squeezes the tool in her hand. Her tendons strain, but the metal bends with a creak.
The overseer shouts for them to get back to work.
Jango steps closer to her, lets his elbows brush against hers, and glares off anyone that tries to get too close.
"I don't need protection," she mutters to him from the corner of her mouth.
"I keep my word," he replies, hating himself for it.
He said he'd have her back. He may hate what she is, but... she left the Order. She's not a Jedi anymore. If he thinks it enough, he can believe it.
----
There's always a camaraderie in shared suffering. Jango is aware of this, and he feels his fondness for Ashla grow against his better judgment. They're both slaves on a spice ship, and he can't change that. It makes him tolerate her more than he sensibly should.
She acts like a Mando soldier, sometimes. She's not at all like Haat Mando'ade, but she knows some of the jokes that Mandalorians grow up with. She walks like a woman used to beskar'gam. She knows a drinking song or two.
(They don't waste the whiskey. It's for injuries, not intoxication.)
"I had brothers, once," she tells him, late at night. "A lot of them. They had a Mandalorian parent, sort of, but he'd never seen fit to really... let them have the culture. I lost them all, mostly to slave chips, and a few to just normal deaths, but... I learned what I could about Mandalore, after, for their sake. In their memory."
It's not a terrible reason, he thinks.
"Irony for you to end up in chains, then," he mumbles, and she barks out a sharp laugh.
"Tradition, more like," she says, and explains before he can ask for her to keep talking. "My... teacher was born a slave, and I... have a suspicion he ended up back in chains after we lost contact. His teacher was enslaved at least twice that I know of."
"Shitty tradition," he says, because there's nothing else he can think of.
"Could be worse," she tells him. This time, she doesn't elaborate.
----
He likes her more than he should.
----
He likes her so, so, so much more than he should.
----
She steals datachips when nobody's looking, using the Force instead of her fingers. She wraps dismissal around her like a cloak to access computer terminals without anyone but Jango noticing. She slips spice into the drinks held by guards and overseers.
She moves through the ship like smoke, in the dim lights of the false night.
Someone notices. Someone always notices, in Jango's experience, but they have no idea who's doing it. They lock down the cells for the sleep cycle, turn down the temperature, leave all the slaves shivering in their beds.
He pulls Ashla into his cot without hesitation, fits their bodies together to conserve heat, and ignores the rest. They're both soldiers; there's no shame in survival for those like them. The lekku at her back drapes over his neck like a scarf, and he almost wants to laugh.
He's pathetic. His men would be so damn disappointed in him, sharing bunk with a Jedi.
"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, shifting somehow closer. The chill clings, creeping in through the thin clothes and thinner blanket, but he feels like it's bearable with Ashla here.
----
When they enact the plan, it's so much quieter than Jango would have run it. Ashla holds his hands in the early morning, before anyone is awake, and smiles. When she closes her eyes, sinking into a light meditation, the collar around her neck just... comes apart. Nuts and bolts and curves of metal float about her like a wretched parody of the mobile hanging above an infant's crib, and then land quietly on the nearest cot. When she opens her eyes, hazy and distant, she looks at his throat, and frees him with a thought.
It's a heady thing, freedom.
"Come along, Fett," she goads, almost crooning the words, backing out of the cell with his hands in hers. Nobody is awake yet, or at least they shouldn't be. Her words curl in the air like something cloyingly too-sweet, and he's sure it's her way of trying to piss him off. It's only working a little. "We've work to do."
Said work involves slipping past guards with a Jedi's timing, commanding them to sleep with a whisper and a poke to the forehead, and drugging the ones that she claims are resistant to Jedi tricks. The work is, as such, mostly hers to do. They hide the bodies, but the alarm goes off by the time they get to the weapons locker.
That's fine, because the weapons locker is where they were headed.
"Oh, hell yes," she hisses through a grit-tooth grin, and a matched pair of lightsabers float to her. Jango turns off the energy field by the time they reach her, and she hooks them onto her belt. Beskar plating follows, exactly the pieces that Jango had guessed from wear and tear. It's real beskar, too, not even an alloy, and Jango doesn't ask the questions on the tip of his tongue. She straps it on in practiced movements, without hesitation and almost without thought.
"See anything better than what you got off the guards?" she asks him. "Or did they all take the best blasters for themselves?"
"The latter," he says.
(His eyes trace over the armor she wears, and while she does wear it well... he's jealous.)
(He misses his armor.)
(Envy is unbecoming of anyone, but he thinks he can be afforded a little leeway.)
There are people in the hall by the time they exit, a dozen blasters at the ready.
The people in the hall are... not a problem.
Ashla had called it the Sword and Shield maneuver, when walking him through her experiences working in a Mando/Jetii team. He'd laughed, because the saber was the shield. She'd smiled at him, and he'd cursed himself for it.
If he'd had his armor, they'd have been able to move forward as a pair of unstoppable monsters. As it stands, they're... still doing that, really, just a tad slower.
"You're a Jedi!" one of them shouts. "You're supposed to be diplomats! You're not supposed to kill!"
Jango could laugh at that horrible, horrible lie.
"I am no Jedi," Ashla says, and the words cut through the air like something she's said a million times, and will say a million more.
Jango could do a lot with that line, tucked away in his memories for later.
There's a moment, though, where they're stuck at one end of a hallway, and the door to the bridge is just on the other side, and Ashla grins at him, a challenge in every inch of her body, and asks, "You wanna see something cool?"
He can't help it.
"You planning to show off, Jedi?" He can say the word without flinching, and it's... absurd. It's absurd. What in all the hells is she doing to him?
(He's been told that war makes for strange bedfellows, but he's long known that trauma does the same.)
He takes cover when she moves, and oh, does she move.
Ashla's a whirlwind, dangerous as anything and beautiful in her careful, precise violence. She knocks people out, more often than not, but there's more then one dead body left in her wake. It appeals to something in him. She flips and twists and throws people with the Force. She slices and kicks, and smacks people across the face with the blasters she lifts of their comrades. She headbutts at least two people, and then jumps to bounce off the ceiling and back down so she can land feet first on an enemy.
He hopes he'll get his common sense back when he's had time to put himself together, because the sight of those sabers doesn't make him flinch. After all he's been through, after all his nightmares, it really should. The sound alone should have him shivery and shooting.
Maybe there's just too much spice in the air.
A head drops to the floor in a different direction from the body it had previously been attached to. Jango's throat goes dry in response.
When Ashla stands at the end of the hall, a saber in each hand and the floor behind her littered in both bodies breathing and bodies bereft of life, she looks back at him over her shoulder. She deactivates her swords, and smirks. She's smug, and she makes smug look very, very good.
"So," she says. "Verdict?"
Fuck.
----
The bridge is easy enough to handle. They land the ship on a Republic planet, one with relevant authorities and at least some reputation for actually handling things with a degree of kindness and transparency. Ashla does the talking, letting Jango lurk behind her. She lies.
"Half-truths," she later tells him, in a low voice. The smile she wears is amused and self-assured, just a twist at the corner, and the slightest of pouts. He can't see it, when she leans in to murmur in his ear. "I certainly used to be a Jedi. They don't need to know this wasn't an officially-sanctioned infiltration."
Her breath hits lightly against his ear, and he wants--he wants--
"Have a comm code for any old friends?" Ashla asks, stepping away. Her face twists unpleasantly. Frustration, he's sure. "I've got credits, but no contacts."
He eyes the little pack she's got around her waist. "Stole that from the slavers?"
"We'll consider it payment for services rendered," she tells him, with an impish grin Jango wants to kiss off of her face, because apparently he's kriffing suicidal and wants to bed a Jedi. "I'll give you most of it, if you want. Call it the two years of backpay they owed you."
He snorts before he can stop himself. "Just one year, sorry."
"Oh, it's hazard pay," she insists, blinking innocently. "Dangerous conditions having been what they were, of course."
She presses a comm--probably also stolen--and a few credits into his hand, then loops her arm through his. She sets off at a lazy walk, ignoring the people who stare at them with distaste and disgust. "We'll find a hotel. We'll shower, with real water, and fancy soaps, and a little sonic just for the clothes. I'll run out and get you a basic outfit, and then we can go shopping, and once that's done, and you've had a chance to comm a companion, we can reunite you with your buddies, and you can go hunting for your armor, and I'll split and--"
"Stay."
She tilts her head at him, though she doesn't stop walking, and he feels his face burn. He hopes it's not visible. She hums lowly. He can't learn anything from it. "You hate Jedi, though, and I might not really be one anymore, but I'm still more Jedi than not."
"You wear beskar and speak Mando'a," he says. "You helped the Mand'alor. You're halfway to being one of mine already."
"One of yours, huh?" she mutters, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn't know what it is that she's seeing, but he's gotten used to it. "Alright, let's have this conversation again after you've had some sleep and clothes and a good meal, yeah?"
He can take that compromise.
----
"What do you mean, you're from the future?!"
#Jangosoka#time travel#Jango Fett#Ahsoka Tano#slavery tw#drugs tw#Phoenix Posts#I wrote this on a whim a few days ago but didn't get it edited until today#anyway have a nonsense
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TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Four (Harry Styles)
a/n: happy TLABL day!! can’t believe we are already on part 4! im not sure if part 5 will be the last part, im still very much writing the rest so we’ll see! thank you so much for all the love you’ve been showing the series, i love reading your reactions! feedback is very much appreciated this time as well!
pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader
warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce
word count: 11k
SERIES MASTERPOST
masterlist
You wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck or at least consumed a whole bottle of tequila. Your head is pounding and it’s probably with all the crying and stress, so you are quick to take some pills to ease the pain. Sitting on the edge of your bed you stare ahead of you blankly, trying to gain power to start the day.
Though today is Sunday, so you are not working, you’re still worried to face Harry after whatever it was that happened last night. What were you thinking, kissing your boss out of the blue? And what was he thinking kissing you for the second time? It kind of feels like a dream, but you know it really did happen.
You try to stay in your room as long as possible, avoiding to face Harry, but soon enough you can’t postpone it any longer, because you are starving. Peeking out of your room you hear voices coming from downstairs and as you reach the stairs you recognize not just Harry’s and Izzy’s voice, but Niall’s as well.
Arriving downstairs you see Niall and Izzy sitting on the stools at the kitchen island while Harry is cleaning the dishes after their breakfast probably. He is wearing a pair of light-washed jeans and a black hoodie, the sleeves bunched around his elbows. He looks so casual and yet just looking at him makes your heart skip a beat. You are in some big trouble.
Niall spots you first and he perks up waving in your way happily.
“Good morning, Y/N!” he beams, his accent sounds so comforting in such a stressful moment, for some reason.
“Hi, good morning,” you breathe out. Harry turns around, his eyes fall on you and a shiver runs down your spine. He just looked at you and you already want to run away and hide in your room a little longer.
“Morning,” he greets you with a nod before turning back to the sink to finish the dishes.
“Daddy and Uncle Niall are taking me to the park! We are picking Yara up too!” Izzy shares the news with you excitedly.
“Oh, that sounds great!” you smile at her, giving her cheek a gentle pinch before moving to the fridge.
“Do you want to come?” she invites you and your eyes immediately flicker over to Harry who looks at you the exact same time, making your stomach drop right away.
“Um, I have some work to do, maybe some other time,” you smile at Izzy, grabbing yourself a yoghurt and a banana before shutting the fridge closed.
“So how was yesterday?” Niall asks and you freeze. Does he know what happened? Did Harry tell him about last night?
Niall sees your frightened look to which he shoots you a confused one.
“The wedding, Harry told me earlier you had a wedding yesterday.”
“Oh, it went… fine,” you nod shortly, peeking at Harry who is now staring down at his feet awkwardly. This was starting to get painfully ridiculous, the two of you dancing around each other, pretending like you weren’t down each other’s throats just a few hours prior.
“Alright, let’s leave, we need to pick Yara up in twenty,” Harry claps his hands. Izzy jumps off the stool and takes Niall’s hand as they all head out of the house. “We’ll probably have lunch somewhere and then go grocery shopping, so we’ll be away for a while,” he informs you without looking your way before leaving without even waiting for any reaction from you.
Yeah, this was straight up the most awkward conversation you’ve had in a long time.
“Here, Izzy. Play some games on my phone!” Niall passes his phone to her with a sweet smile, but Harry smacks his bicep.
“What are you doing? She has enough screen time already!”
“Yeah, but I needed her to be busy so I can ask you what the fuck was that in the house.”
Harry curls his lips into his mouth, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him as he tries to come up with a good answer, but he knows he could never fool his best friend.
“Don’t stop, even if she is busy with the phone,” Harry scolds him, glancing at Izzy through the mirror, but she doesn’t seem to be listening to them. Niall rolls his eyes, but lets his words uncommented. “Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you exactly know it. You and Y/N were like scared little bunnies around each other. She looked like she was about to faint any moment when you looked at her.”
“Maybe she was just tired,” he shrugs, but Niall laughs at his weak attempt to fool him.
“Now tell me the real reason, I know something happened.”
Harry chews on his bottom lip, debating whether he should come clean or not, but he knows Niall won’t leave him until he finally tells him so he is not left with many choices.
“We kissed.”
“What?!” Niall snaps, a little louder than Harry expected, his voice makes him flinch. “Sorry, that was a little too dramatic, but what the fuck? Why were you keeping this from me?!”
“Because I knew this is how you’d react,” Harry mumbles under his breath. “And… I don’t think it will ever happen again.”
“What do you mean?”
“The whole thing was a mess,” Harry sighs. “She came home late, pretty upset because she met with her ex at the wedding.”
“The one that cheated on her?”
“Mhm. The dude was an asshole and… she was crying in the kitchen when I came down. We sat on the couch, talked, I tried to calm her down and all that and then… she kissed me.”
“Wait, she kissed you? Wow, she’s got balls!” Niall laughs.
“Yeah, but it was, like, really short and she pulled back, shocked at herself for doing it. I think it was just all the emotions that got her a little confused. But then she tried to apologize and… and I kissed her.”
“What?! Oh my God!” Niall’s mind is blown and he doesn’t even tries to hide his excitement hearing the news about last night. “Was there tongue?”
“Jesus, Niall!” Harry scowls. “I’m not sharing the details with you.”
“Okay, but was it like a solid, short kiss or you guys went right at it?”
Harry doesn’t answer, but it tells enough about the situation and Niall can’t help but whistle as he claps his hands.
“Stop acting like a horny teenager, Niall,” Harry growls rolling his eyes at his friend.
“So you guys snogged, what’s the matter with that?”
“It got awkward. We just pulled back and I think we both were pretty shocked about it and… she just stood up and said that she is going to bed. End of story. And then you were there in the morning, so… yeah.”
“Tell me why the hell we are heading to a playdate then when you should be talking to her?” Niall asks, arching an eyebrow at Harry.
“There’s not much to talk about. It just happened in the heat of the moment, that’s all,” Harry shrugs, but deep down he knows it’s a blatant lie. At least on his side.
Unlike you, who fell asleep right away, Harry spent about an hour lying in his bed wide awake, not able to think about anything else but your lips on his. He replayed the whole thing in his head about a million times, he was starting to feel ashamed of it, but he just couldn’t stop.
Your abrupt leaving left him puzzled and he thought long and hard about why you felt the need to run away. The only thing that made sense to him is that you regretted it the moment it happened, that it really did just happen in the heat of the moment so Harry thought it’s best to act like it didn’t even happen.
“Please don’t be an ass and just… talk to her. We both know we can never know for sure what a woman thinks about. You can’t just assume and think that your assumption is one hundred percent right.”
“I find it funny that you’re such an expert in this stuff, but you haven’t had a stable relationship since like, we finished college,” Harry scoffs as he takes the corner and starts driving down the street to Yara’s moms’ house.
“Me not having a relationship doesn’t mean that I’m not good at them. It’s a choice,” Niall smirks.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“But back to the topic, you wanted to kiss her, right?”
“I mean, yeah? It kinda threw me off as well, but it was… nice.”
“Please don’t refer to a kiss as nice again,” Niall gags, but Harry just chuckles at him. “A kiss is hot, passionate, pant tighteni—“
“Okay, that’s enough!” Harry cuts him, earning a cackle from him.
“Just talk to her, don’t be a pussy.”
“I really do need better friends,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he pulls up to the driveway.
You really didn’t feel like staying home alone in that big ass house so you invited yourself over for an early dinner to your mom’s. You haven’t been over since the little fiasco with Trevor so you thought it might be a good idea to spend some time with them. Trevor said they’ve been trying to keep the fighting down to the minimum and not let it turn into a screaming match, so your speech worked after all.
It’s past three o’clock when you leave, no sign of Harry or Izzy and you feel like they won’t be back for a while either, so you lock everything up and head out.
You have a genuinely good time. It’s obvious that your mom feels guilty about her past behavior and is trying to lure you into forgiving her, though you already did that. But you’re happy your little speech worked. At least Trevor can have his peace now.
After dinner your mom disappears in her room and then returns with a nicely wrapped box and you sigh, rolling your eyes.
“Mom, I told you I don’t need gifts.” You give her a look. Your birthday is coming up next week, but you were never the kind to celebrate. You never felt comfortable with all the attention and fuss birthdays come with, so you’ve always liked to keep it down. These past years you didn’t even ask for anything, though your parents never listened and this year doesn’t seem like an exception either.
“Oh hush. You can’t expect me not to celebrate my baby!” she shakes her head, sitting back to the dining table. “And besides, I didn’t pay a dollar for it,” she then adds and now you’re curious what she got you.
Removing the lid of the box you peek inside and your lips immediately part as you see the stack of polaroids inside.
“I know how much you like old photos and when we sold Grandma’s house back in August, I found these in my old room. I got a polaroid camera for graduation, just in time to take tons of pictures of you,” she explains with a soft chuckle as you start going through the pictures from when you were born and the next few years. Whenever you are done looking at a photo you hand it to Trevor so he can take a look at them too.
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep these, mom?” you ask glancing up at her over the stack.
“I took out a few for myself,” she admits with a sneaky smile. “You can have the rest, I know how much you love these stuff.”
“Thank you, mom,” you smile at her, hugging her from the side, feeling touched by this gift.
It’s nearing eight when you arrive back home, the lights are still up and if you had to guess you’d say that Harry is trying to tire Izzy out enough to put to bed, as usual. Walking in, your guess is proven right, the TV is on in the living room while Harry is sitting on the couch, Izzy all over him in her pink pajamas, playing around with his hair like she always does.
“Hi Y/N!” she calls out happily when she spots you.
“Hi Sunshine, did you have a good time today?” you ask with a soft smile.
“I did! And guess what!”
“What?”
“Yara invited me over for a sleepover!” she beams, clearly ecstatic about the invitation.
“That’s amazing!”
“What’s that?” she curiously asks pointing at the gift box in your hands. Harry turns to see you, his eyes falling on the box as well.
“Oh, it’s a gift I got from my mom,” you explain, stepping closer.
“Is it your birthday?” she questions, knitting her eyebrows together.
“No, not yet. But it will be next week,” you admit with a soft chuckle.
“Really? Are you having a birthday party?” she gasps, getting way too excited already. Harry eyes you without a word, holding Izzy by her hips so she is not losing her balance standing on the cushion of the couch.
“I’m not, sorry. I don’t like having birthday parties,” you pout at her apologetically.
“Oh, okay. Can I see what you got from your mom?”
“Izzy, don’t be nosy,” Harry warns her, but you just smile at the curious girl.
“Sure,” you nod, joining them on the couch. You sit on the opposite end than where Harry is, Izzy in the middle as she watches the box in awe. You set it down to the cushion and take the lid off, revealing the stack of photos.
“What are these?”
“They are called polaroids. They are old pictures, taken with a special camera that kind of prints the picture out right away,” you explain to her as she takes the first photo from the top, a picture of your mom holding you as a newborn. She was so young, practically a child herself, yet her pride was undeniable, it shone all over her face. You spot Harry looking at the picture as well over Izzy’s shoulder, still keeping his silence.
“Who are these people?”
“That’s my mom and that’s me as a baby. And… this is my dad,” you hold up another photo that features your dad.
“They really were young when they had you,” Harry speaks up for the first time, surprised by the photos.
“Yeah, they were.”
“What are you going to do with them?” Izzy questions, dropping the photo back into the box as she leans back to lie on Harry’s chest.
“Not sure yet. I might make an album from them,” you shrug. “I really like polaroids, I love that they are one of a kind.”
Izzy nods, though you’re not sure she understood what you meant by that. Fidgeting with her fingers she pushes down a yawn and Harry takes that as a good sign.
“Alright, time for bed, Love. Say good night to Y/N.” He picks her up as he stands from the couch. Izzy waves at you smiling with tired eyes.
“Night-night, Y/N,” she singsongs as Harry carries her towards the stairs.
Putting the pictures back into the box you head into your bedroom too, feeling like the time when you and Harry talk about what happened yesterday will never come. It’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so you’ll just let it slip. It happened just in the heat of the moment, didn’t mean a thing, you better forget about it.
After a speedy shower you are getting ready to just go to bed, read some and have a relaxing evening, something you didn’t have the luck to have the day before. But right as you’re about to make yourself comfortable in bed, there’s a knock on your door.
“Hey,” you breathe out as you open it and find Harry standing in the hallway.
“I hope you weren’t sleeping already.”
“No. Come on in,” you invite him inside and he walks in. As he awkwardly stops in the middle of the room you realize he hasn’t even been in here since you’ve moved in. He takes a look around, examining what you’ve done with the room and you feel thankful you decided to put your laundry away just yesterday, so no dirty underwear is littering the floor anywhere.
“How can I help you?” you ask with a soft smile.
“I, erm… I just wanted to clear some things,” he starts, clearly feeling nervous about the conversation and that makes the two of you for sure. Nodding you let him know that you’re waiting for him to carry on. “What happened yesterday…” he starts and your breath gets caught in your throat. “You were very emotional, a lot happened and it was a very confusing moment probably for the both of us. I really like working with you, I’m very happy with the way you’ve been taking care of Izzy and I would hate to ruin it with anything.”
You can feel your stomach dropping even though you were bracing yourself for this version of the situation. It was very likely that Harry would want to keep things professional, like before, but it still makes you feel like shit.
“I’m sorry for stepping over some boundaries, but I really hope that… we can put it behind us and that we can move on.”
He is using his business tone. It’s the same tone he used with Sarah and his assistants and now he is using it to talk about the kiss that happened between the two of you.
“Sure,” you answer quietly nodding. “Moving on sounds… great,” you nod, forcing a smile to your face, but it couldn’t be more fake.
Harry nods as he runs his tongue over his lips, looking around a little awkwardly now that it’s been discussed.
“Alright, then… good night, Y/N,” he nods in your way before heading towards the door.
“Good night, Harry,” you mumble after him as he walks out and closes the door behind him.
As soon as you are on your own, you let out a shaky breath, falling to your bed, lips trembling as you try to even make out what you’re feeling. Because part of you is glad he didn’t make a fuss about it and you didn’t lose your job, that’s great news. But another part, which is vehemently bigger than the first one is upset and sad and… disappointed?
You were hoping it meant something for him, you wanted him to want it, to feel the same craving for you as you feel towards him, because you haven’t really stopped thinking about what his lips felt like against yours, what it was like when his fingers dug into your thigh, how it sent a shiver down your spine when his tongue met yours.
But this conversation just made it awfully clear that he wants nothing to do with you. And it hurts probably more than it should.
Harry doesn’t get too far from your door when he feels the all too familiar pain in his chest he has been forced to live with these past over three years. It’s like something is gripping his heart and lungs in his chest so tight, even breathing is a hard task.
Rushing into his bedroom he closes the door behind him and slides down to the floor as the tears flood from his eyes. The past twenty-four hours have been rough on him, the guilt has been growing immensely since he let himself slip and give in for his desires and eventually kiss you.
It’s not that he didn’t want it. Because he’d be lying if he said it meant nothing to him and that he hasn’t been craving it these past weeks.
But his guilt, this evil little voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let him enjoy it even the slightest.
How dare you kiss another woman after your wife? Are you insane? You don’t deserve to feel this way with anyone else. Not when you were the reason your wife ended up dead!
Heartbreaking sobs escape from his chest as he pushes himself up from the floor and heads into the bathroom. He strips out of his clothes leaving them all in a pile on the marble tiled floor before he steps into the shower and lets the hot water pour down on him, almost burning his skin, but he doesn’t change the temperature, as if he was trying to punish himself. His salty tears mix with the water as he stands still, chest heaving as his vivid memories from that night come crashing down on him all at once.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment now? Really?” Harry sighed at his wife when she failed to answer his question about the whereabouts of his sweatpants. Maggie sat on the bed with the recent maternity book she’d been reading these past days, not even paying her husband a look at his question.
“Mags, for fuck’s sake, I’m not in the mood to play this game right now,” Harry sighed in defeat. Maggie looked up at him, closed the book slowly and put it aside to the bedside table.
“So the question of expanding our family is just a game to you?” she asked calmly, but her anger and disappointment in her husband was soaking through her tone.
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“No, you are not talking about anything, because you refuse to have a fucking conversation with me!” she retorted, letting all her bottled up anger out that’d been boiling inside her.
“I already told you that I can’t think about having another baby right now. Izzy is only six, I’m in the middle of a huge project, I don’t have the capacity to think about having another baby, Maggie. I thought I made it clear, why are you still onto me then?”
“Because it’s not something we can put aside for too long! I don’t want to have another baby when I’m in my mid-thirties, but if we go with your plan, we won’t even have another one!” Maggie jumped to her feet, pacing the floor back and forth next to their bed as Harry stood with his hands on his hips, getting irritated that they were fighting over the same thing again.
“I never said we can’t have another baby, but why can’t we wait a little? When Izzy is older and more independent? Do you have any idea how hard it is to take care of a baby and a toddler? It’s a fucking nightmare!” Harry growled rolling his eyes.
“So our family is just a pain in the ass for you?” Maggie questioned, folding her arms on her chest and she was really getting on Harry’s nerves, twisting his words completely.
“That’s not what I said!” he snapped. “All I’m asking for is you to be a little patient and give me some time!”
“I don’t have time, Harry! I want it as soon as possible!”
“Why are you so fucking difficult?” Harry groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Why can’t you wait just… one year at least? Is that too much to ask?”
“And is it too much to ask to focus on your family? We are supposed to come first!” she turned it back around and Harry was not having the dirty games she was playing, putting all the blame on him when she could have been a little more understanding as well. He was feeling like his opinion was put aside and didn’t matter at all.
“You do come first, you don’t have the right to question that.” Harry pointed at Maggie, his blood practically boiling at this point.
“Then why do I feel like work is always more important to you?”
“What are you talking about? You know I’m home as much as I can, but we still need the fucking money, Maggie! Or how do you plan on paying the bills of this fucking mansion?!”
“I don’t need a mansion! I just need my family and that’s all!” she argued, but Harry rolled his eyes at her.
“Well you seem to enjoy this mansion a lot when you sit by the pool and watch movies in the fucking movie theater in your own home!” he snapped back feistily. “Stop acting like I don’t do shit for our family when I work my ass off to provide the best possible life. And all I’m asking for in return is some fucking time before we bring another baby into the picture!”
“You are so fucking unbelievable,” Maggie shook her head as she marched past him, walking away from the fight that just grinded his gears even more.
Just as Harry was about to go after her, he heard the faint crying through the baby monitor. Groaning he headed into Izzy’s room and as he took her out of her crib, he heard the front door open and shut.
“Aw, baby, I’m sorry, did we wake you up?” he cooed, hugging the crying little girl to his chest who clung onto him immediately. Even at such a young age, Izzy was already a daddy’s little girl.
Soon her cries died down to just little hiccups as Harry soothed her, patting her bum and back gently as he moved around the room. Holding Izzy in one arm he grabbed his phone with his free hand and typed a message to his wife.
Harry: Where did you go?!
Maggie: I’m going over to my sister’s. Don’t wait up, might get home late.
Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. She called him out for running away from the conversation, but when they were finally talking about it she just decided to disappear when it didn’t head in the direction she wanted, seeking comfort at her sister, as always.
He managed to lull Izzy back to sleep, putting her back to her crib before going back to the bedroom. As time passed by and he calmed down more and more he wished Maggie was home so they could talk about it without jumping at each other’s throat. There had to be a compromising way to solve the situation that would be fine for the both of them.
Harry: Please come home and let’s talk about it.
Maggie: So you can bite my head off again?!
Harry: Mags, please. You have to understand my point of view too!
Maggie: I understand it, but I don’t agree with it. And you don’t seem to understand mine…
Harry: I do, but there are more things to consider. Please come home, I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone!
Maggie: Okay, I’m heading home now.
Harry put his phone down to the nightstand with a long sigh, already tired from everything that happened that day and he knew this conversation would be a hard one too, but they needed to be on the same page when it came to their family.
It was late getting late and Harry grew a little more restless with each passing moment. Paisley, Maggie’s sister lived about thirty minutes away from them and it’d been forty minutes since she sent her last text. At first he figured she maybe stayed and talked for a little longer with Paisley, or stopped for some fast food which he knew she liked so much whenever she was upset, but when an entire hour passed by he was getting worried.
He kept sending her texts that didn’t even get delivered and when he tried to call it went straight to her voicemail. Harry was losing his shit so he decided to call Paisley to see if she knew anything about her.
“She hasn’t arrived home yet?” she asked, clearly surprised.
“No, and she is not answering my calls and texts. When did she leave from yours?”
“A long time ago. Almost right away when you texted her to go home.”
“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, anxiously pacing the floor as he held the phone to his ear. “Okay, can you please call your parents in case she went there for whatever reason? I’ll try her friends.”
“Yeah, sure. Let me know if you got a hold of her,” Paisley told him before they ended the call.
Harry was scrolling through his contacts, trying to decide who Maggie would go to first in this situation and just as he was about to call the first person, his phone started ringing with an unknown number.
“Hello?” he answered the call unsurely, his heart beating fast in his chest as he stood in the middle of the room.
“Mr. Harry Styles?” a male voice asked on the other end.
“Yes, it’s me. Who am I speaking to?”
“I’m Officer Field speaking. You were listed as the emergency contact for your wife, Margaret Linn Styles.”
Blood rushed out of Harry’s face faster than he could even process what was happening. He stood completely frozen, his hands were getting clammy as he started sweating as if he just ran the marathon.
“What happened?” he asked weakly, barely even finding his own voice.
“Mr. Styles, I have bad news…”
Harry makes his way down to the entertainment room, walking like a zombie, only thinking about the bottle of vodka that sits in the minibar down there. Following his skin burning shower he tried to go to bed, but his head was starting to spin from everything that’s been swirling in his mind and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it if he didn’t numb himself somehow. Unfortunately, his only way of doing it has been drinking, nothing seemed to help him the way alcohol did and though he knew he should never solve any of his problems with drinking, he still couldn’t help himself sometimes. When the pain was growing immensely, taking over his whole body, he chose the easiest way to get rid of the guilt or at least stop himself from… feeling.
Grabbing the bottle from the mini fridge he snatches himself a glass as well, not drinking straight from the bottle at least, and plopping himself down to the couch he pours a generous glass, drinking it without any chaser.
He winces as the alcohol burns down his throat, but at least it’s a different kind of pain, that takes the focus away from the one he is feeling in his chest.
One glass chases the other and since he is not particularly used to the heavy drinking, he is more like the ‘let’s nurse this pint for an hour’ type of guy, the raw vodka kicks in pretty quickly.
But he is not the only one who can’t fall asleep tonight.
You tried everything in your power to end your misery and finally fall asleep, but your mind and body was plotting against you and made you toss and turn until you couldn’t take it any longer. Making a good cup of tea seemed like a good idea, so you headed down the kitchen.
As you round the corner after the stairs and you’re about to walk into the kitchen, you notice how the lights are on down in the entertainment room. You stop in your tracks and try to think back if anyone was there before you went upstairs, but you don’t think it was the case.
You figure since there are only two adults living in the house, it must be Harry down there and right now, facing him doesn’t sound like a good idea, so you decide to leave him be, but that’s when you hear the voice of some kind of glass breaking, followed by a heavy accented cursing and it changes your mind right away.
“Harry?” you softly call out as you walk down the stairs, not sure what to expect down there. He is crouching down, his back in your direction as he is trying to get the pieces of the broken glass up from the floor, but he is too disoriented to succeed in the task and it’s obvious that an injury is deemed to happen sooner or later.
“Harry, you’re gonna cut yourself!” you warn him, and walking over to him you pull him up from his squatting position and when he looks at you is when you realize that he is drunk out of his mind.
“Y/N, oh shit, did I—Did I wake you up?” he slurs, knitting his eyebrows together as he tries to focus his vision on you.
“You didn’t, but let me just—Why don’t you sit down for a moment while I clean this up, huh?” you suggest, pulling him towards the couch, making him sit. He falls to the cushion like dead weight, letting out a tired sigh while you rush to get a broom and a dustpan to get rid of the broken glass on the floor as fast as possible before someone cuts themselves.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he breathes out closing his eyes.
“It’s okay. I’ll just clean it up quickly,” you assure him, getting down to business.
“Not about the g-glass. Well, about that as well…”
“Then why are you sorry?” you ask, as you sweep the shards onto the dustpan and throw them into the closest trashcan.
“About being… a pain in the ass,” he hiccups.
“You are not a pain in the ass,” you chuckle softly as you sit beside him.
“I am. I fucked things up,” he nods with a painful expression all over his handsome face.
“What do you mean?” You know you shouldn’t make him talk in this state, but you can’t help your curiosity. It seems like drunkenness makes his tongue run wild and you are desperate for the tiniest crumble of information about what’s going on in his head.
“I just… I kissed you,” he breathes out, his eyes popping open, but he is staring at the ceiling, not you.
“And?” you ask, trying to act cool, though your pulse is rapidly increasing.
“And I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh.” You lick your lips and try not to show how much that hurt. But even drunk, Harry notices the disappointment in your tone. His glassy eyes snap over to you and his face falls right away.
“That’s not how I mean it!” he gasps, reaching for your hand and you’re surprised by the sudden physical touch, but it feels kind of nice, so you let him hold your hand between his arm palms. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it, because fucking hell, it was amazing!” he bluntly tells you and you can already feel the heat crawling up your neck.
“Really?”
“Yes!”
“Then why did you tell me all of that in my room just earlier now?”
Harry pulls his hands back and moves his arms across his face, covering his eyes as he slides down the couch, his legs spreading out in front of him. He lets out a shaky whimper and seeing him like this worries you a lot. Harry is always in control, he has never let him fall apart like this before.
“Because… I don’t deserve to feel this way,” he confesses, confusing you even more. What is he talking about?
“Why wouldn’t you?”
He shakes his head under his arms, biting into his bottom lip as he inhales deeply, like he is trying to keep something inside, something you shouldn’t know about, but now you are desperate to find it out.
“I’m a fucking mess,” he breathes out, letting his arms fall to his sides, but he keeps his eyes closed, shutting you out in a way. “I don’t deserve to have these feelings,” he repeats again and it appears he is more likely talking to himself, rather than to you.
“Harry, what are you talking about?”
“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you, because if I did, you’d never be able to look at me again.”
Now he is crying. Tears are rolling down his cheeks and his lips are trembling and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable state and quite frankly, it scares you. You knew him to be a strong and stable man, but now he resembles a frightened little boy, so lost in this big world.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not that bad, Harry.”
“It is,” he winces, as if it’s causing him physical pain to even talk about it.
“Harry…” You breathe out and moving closer you place a hand on his knee, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He turns to face you, his eyes all watered and glistening, he looks so heartbroken, it almost pains you as well.
“Promise me you won’t see me as a monster,” he whispers.
“I-I promise,” you nod, already bearing yourself for the worst, judging from the look on his face.
Taking a deep breath he looks around, as if he is making sure no one else is listening. Then his eyes fall down to his hands in his lap, he fidgets with his fingers, his tongue running along his pink lips before he takes a deep breath and speaks up again.
“Maggie’s death… It was all my fault. I fucking… killed my own wife.”
His voice dies down at the end of the sentence, staring into the void, completely zoned out as you sit beside him, shocked at his words. This was not exactly what you were expecting him to say. Harry starts sobbing again, the hot tears running down his cheeks as he starts crying and panic sets in you. He is so out of his own world, you have no idea what’s happening to him. Rushing over to the mini fridge, you grab a water for him, thinking it might help him at least after all the alcohol he has consumed.
“Here, drink some water,” you softly tell him, taking the cap off as you hand him the bottle. He takes it with a shaky hand and raising it to his trembling lips he takes a few small sips. “Harry, what do you mean it was your fault?” you ask, knowing well you probably shouldn’t push it, but you can’t just ignore what he said.
“Exactly what I said,” he sobs shaking his head vigorously. “It was all my fault, I was a fucking coward and that’s why she died! I could have stopped her! I should have gone after her!”
He is not answering you, not entirely. He is speaking thoughts that have been planted in his head a long time ago and they seem to be on repeat whenever he is feeling down. As much as you want to get more details out of him, he needs to rest, especially because he is working in the morning.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed, H,” you tell him as you stand up and reach out for him to help him to his unsteady feet. It turns out to be a little harder than you expected, but you manage to get him up from his sitting position, and throwing one of his arms over your shoulders you start to walk him up towards his bedroom.
“You fucking hate me now, don’t you?” he slurs, his other hand reaching out towards the wall to steady himself a little more.
“I don’t hate you, Harry.”
“But you think I’m a monster, right?”
“I’m not sure I know enough to think anything about you. This is a conversation we should have when you’re sober,” you suggest and he huffs.
“M’sorry for getting drunk in the middle of the night.”
“It’s alright. But I think you’ll have a mean headache in the morning,” you tease him as you finally reach the upstairs and head down the hallway towards his room.
“You’re a fucking angel, Y/N. You know that?” He just keeps talking and talking and you find it funny how different he is from his reserved and quiet self in this state.
“Am I?”
“Yeah. You are. You are so good to my daughter and to me as well… I really don’t get why your fucker ex cheated on you,” he huffs and you can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. “What was his name? Kyle?”
“Keith,” you correct him.
“That fucker, Keith!” he spats making you laugh as you push his bedroom’s door open and walk him inside finally. “I bet he had a small dick.”
“Why does that matter,” you chuckle, making him sit on the edge of the bed.
“Because guys with small dicks are always out of touch with themselves. They think they are just better than everyone for some reason.”
“Do you have any scientific research to prove that?” you tease him as you push him down, tugging him under the covers, like a little kid.
“No, I just… know shit,” he sighs, his eyes falling closed the moment his head rests on the pillow.
“Alright. You can tell me more about what else you know when you’re sober. Now get some sleep, because you have work in the morning.”
You make sure he lies on his side as he hums his response. Reaching down you brush his messy curls out of his forehead as he breathes out harshly through his nose, probably about to fall asleep any moment.
Tapping on the screen of his phone on the nightstand you make sure that he has set up his alarm and you see the little alarm clock icon at the top bar so you are just about to walk out when you turn back around.
Seeing how he pushed so many things down inside of him, you’re not convinced he’ll be willing to give you the answers you are looking for. You’re afraid he might talk himself out and give you some kind of bullshit answer, so reaching for his phone you sneakily take his thumb and open the device, all whilst he doesn’t even move an inch.
Scrolling through his contacts you find Niall’s number and send it over to yourself before deleting the message so you leave no trail behind. You set the phone back to his nightstand and head out finally, going to bed as well, right after sending Niall a quick message.
Y/N: Hi! It’s Y/N, I got your number from Harry’s phone. Can you come by sometime tomorrow? I need to talk to you about something.
When you come down in the morning it’s pretty obvious that even though Harry had his alarm on, he snoozed one too many times and now he is in a rush, trying to get everything done and leave on time.
“Good morning,” you greet him and Izzy upon walking into the kitchen. Harry’s head snaps up from the half-made breakfast in front of him and judging by his expression, he more or less remembers what happened last night. “Rough morning?” you ask teasing him to ease the tension.
“Uh, yeah. Woke up a little late,” he nods, finishing up Izzy’s sandwich just the way she likes, without the crust on before handing it over to her. Izzy grabs the plate and marches over to the dining table, quietly munching on her food while Harry quickly tries to make himself a coffee, but he is a hot mess, still in his night clothes when he is supposed to leave in about ten minutes.
“I’ll make you the coffee, go and get changed,” you offer, taking over the machine.
“Oh, thank you,” he nods and for a change, he doesn’t try to argue with you, he just disappears upstairs.
You make his coffee just as he likes and leave it on the counter for him before joining Izzy at the table with your own breakfast. She is babbling about how excited she is for her piano lesson today, because she’s been practicing a lot lately. When Harry appears again he is dressed for work, but still looks a little disoriented.
“Hey,” you softly say as you join him in the kitchen.
“Hey, thank you for the coffee,” he nods, moving around the kitchen.
“No problem. How are you feeling?” you ask, hoping you’re not crossing any boundaries. Harry opens his mouth to answer, but then closes, probably not sure how much he should share, though he didn’t have too much problem with that last night.
“I’m… A little hangover, but I’m… fine,” he nods shortly. “Y/N, about last night, I—“
“We can talk about it later, okay? Don’t stress about it.” You give him a reassuring smile and you can tell he is sort of relieved he doesn’t have to have this conversation right in this moment.
“Thank you.”
“No worries. And I’ll clean up in the kitchen, don’t be late,” you smile at him warmly. You can tell he wants to protest, but he also knows he is running late so he doesn’t have much choice.
“Thank you, I’ll… see you later.”
Storming over to Izzy he presses a kiss to her forehead before grabbing all his stuff and leaving.
Niall texts you back not long after breakfast that he is free to drop by when Izzy is having her piano lesson. You carry on with the morning as usual, trying your best not to dwell on everything that happened last night.
Just as Rosaline and Izzy get settled for the lesson you hear a car pulling up outside and a few moments later the doorbell rings through the house.
“Let’s get one thing straight, is it a booty call?” Niall questions right away as you let him inside.
“It’s good to see you again,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him.
“So no sex is gonna be involved?” he smirks and you know he is just teasing you.
“No, sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh, you can never disappoint me, darling,” he winks at you before walking into the kitchen to serve himself a drink. “So why did you need to see me so desperately?”
“Well, I know I shouldn’t be discussing this with you first, but I feel like I need to know some basic information that Harry might not give me so I thought you could help me out.” Niall nods as he pours himself some soda and joins you at the kitchen island, sitting on the stool next to you. “I uhh—I need to ask how much Harry shared with you about… about me—and, um what—“
“Save the stuttering, I know you two kissed,” Niall cuts you off and you breathe out in relief that you don’t have to be the one breaking him the news.
“Oh, okay,” you nod with an awkward smile. “Yeah, so that happened. And last night he and I had this conversation how we should just keep our relationship professional and all that. We both went our own way but then later I found Harry down in the entertainment room, drunk and basically having a meltdown of some sort.”
“How drunk was he?” Niall asks, knitting his eyebrows together.
“Pretty drunk. He broke a glass and he was… crying and talking about a lot of stuff.” Niall takes your words in as he inhales deeply, just nodding for you to continue. “He started telling me how sorry he was for fucking things up and he was a mess, like a huge fucking mess. Then he told me about how he shouldn’t be feeling the way he does, because he doesn’t deserve it…”
“Jesus…” Niall shakes his head, probably already knowing where this is heading.
“And then he told me that his wife’s death was his fault. That was… pretty intense.”
“I can imagine.”
“I know I have to talk to him about it, but I’m really afraid he might shake it off, but it seems like he is having some serious issues and I wouldn’t want things to get out of hands. That’s why I thought I would talk to you, maybe you know what to do or how to approach him with such a sensitive subject.”
“Yeah, I get it. It’s nice of you for being so considerate,” Niall nods, scratching his chin. “Alright, I’ll tell you what I know, but please also let him tell you if he decides to share it with you.” You nod and turn all your attention to him. “I didn’t find this out until about two months after Maggie’s death, but apparently, the night she died they had a fight. Maggie had been nagging Harry to have another baby, but he wanted to wait a little longer, until Izzy is older so they don’t have two babies at the same time. Harry said they had another big fight about it, said some pretty nasty things to each other before Maggie just stormed out to go over to her sister’s. She made it there, but… never made it back home.”
A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of how devastating it must have been, losing your partner after an intense fight without ever making up.
“Understandably, Harry completely lost his shit. For weeks he was barely functioning and we all knew he was grieving, but we didn’t know that he was blaming himself for what happened. When he wasn’t getting any better we somehow convinced him to go to therapy which luckily helped him immensely, but he stopped going a while ago. I thought he got things straight in his head about this whole Maggie situation, but I guess he is still hung up on that.”
“What about the drinking, did that happen a lot?”
“Not that I know of. I mean, yeah, he got wasted quite a few times, but only at the beginning. I don’t think you should be afraid that he might turn into an alcoholic. I think he is just really struggling right now because of the conflict he is having because of you.”
“Because of me?”
“Yeah, he is clearly very confused about his feelings for you and he has convinced himself he shouldn’t feel this way towards anyone ever, but then you came,” he chuckles softly giving you a knowing look.
“Niall, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you breathe out, worry and fear slowly taking over your judgment.
“First and foremost just… be patient with him, okay? This is genuinely the first time he has taken an interest in anyone since Maggie and I think he has already taken some big steps, which is a good sign. Try to talk to him and be open, but don’t push him. I know it can be really annoying when he keeps things, but let him tell you everything at his own pace.”
You nod, understanding the importance of not rushing Harry into anything. Just because you want to get over the awkwardness of the current situation, you can’t push him over his own boundaries.
“Okay, I’ll try to do that,” you nod taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Niall.”
“Oh, and don’t let him give you the ‘you work for me, we shouldn’t be doing this’ bullshit alright? He’ll try to make it out to be some kind of business, but it’s not. He needs to get himself out there and I genuinely think you’re the right person to help him with that.”
His words touch you and you’re not even sure how to react. Niall is clearly someone who stands close to Harry and if he thinks that you and him should give it a try, that must mean something. You can only hope that Harry will come around and think the same at one point.
Izzy gets a little fussy by the end of the day and it takes a lot of persuading to get her to bed in the evening. Harry arrived back home on his usual time and because it’s been such a hot day outside, he took her out to the pool. The problem with that is that Izzy never wants to get out of the water, so when Harry said it’s time for dinner she threw a bit of a tantrum as Harry brought her inside and her mood didn’t get any better later either.
You spent most of your night in the living room just watching TV and working on your laptop, updating your schedule for the upcoming weeks and doing some editing. Harry stays upstairs with Izzy for a long time when her bedtime comes and you figure she is still a little moody, but then you eventually hear his footsteps approaching. Harry pads his way into the living room and joins you on the couch. When you glance over at him you know he is trying to find a way to start the conversation you both know you need to have, so you put your laptop aside and turn your attention towards him.
“Y/N, I’m really sorry about last night. I’m honestly so terribly ashamed you had to… see me like that,” he starts, clearly nervous to bring it all up.
“It’s fine, happens to everyone,” you assure him and it’s the genuine truth.
“It’s not a regular occurrence, really. I usually know my limits and try to stay within them. I’m really sorry for making you uncomfortable.”
“Harry, don’t worry about it,” you tell him again with a warm smile. “We can get past it. I think what we really should talk about is… what you said. Do you remember what we talked about?” you carefully ask.
“I do…” he nods, awkward diverting his eyes away from you. “I’m sorry I told you all that in that state, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to just pour it all on you so suddenly.”
“It’s alright.”
“No, it’s not,” he protests shaking his head. “I dropped a bomb on you because I couldn’t deal with my own problems the right way, and it’s not okay. So please, just… accept my apology.”
“Okay, I accept it,” you nod.
“And about the whole thing with… What I told you about Maggie…”
“Just know that you don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. I’m happy to listen whenever you are ready to, but I’m not trying to push you.”
“I know and thank you for that, but I feel like… I owe you an explanation,” he admits and you nod, happy that he is willing to talk instead of closing himself off entirely. “The day Maggie died, we got into this huge fight and she ran off to her sister. It was… a whole mess, we both said things we clearly didn’t mean and I texted her, tried to get her to come home so we could talk things out. That’s when… she was on her way home when it happened and… I still feel like it was my fault.”
His voice dies down at the end, just like it did last night when he was talking about her. It clearly left a deep scar on him that’s still not entirely healed and you can’t blame him.
“Everyone keeps telling me that it wasn’t, that it was just all one big coincidence, but all I can think about is that she would still be here if we didn’t get into the fight and I didn’t piss her off so much she felt the need to leave.”
“There was no way for you to see what would happen, Harry. It’s not like you did it on purpose, you had no power over the drunk driver or where Maggie chose to drive home. It really was a coincidence.”
“I know, I mean… I understand, but somehow, my mind keeps telling me that it was my fault.”
“Have you thought about… getting professional help?” you ask, trying to be polite and cautious on the topic.
“Actually, I just called my therapist today to see if… she can fit me in for some sessions,” he admits and you’re surprised at how great he is dealing with the matter. “I feel like I might need some guidance again, before things get out of my hands.”
“That’s great! It really is good to go a bit ahead of problems.”
“Yeah. About us…” he exhales nervously, his eyes meeting yours and you can tell this is the part that’s got him the most anxious. You take this as your queue to take over the conversation.
“Harry, I’m going to be honest with you,” you start and he nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “I… I have feelings for you. You haven’t been the only one making realizations,” you add with a soft chuckle, that brings a smile to his lips as well. “I know that the situation is not quite ideal, but it’s not impossible. But I just want you to be honest with me, do you have feelings for me?”
The conflict is clearer than daylight in his eyes as he is trying to figure out what to say and you really hope he isn’t gonna try to mask his feelings.
“I do,” he then admits and it’s like a giant rock has been lifted off your chest and shoulders. “It’s just… I’m not sure how to deal with it.”
“That’s alright,” you tell him. “Let’s just… take it slow. We’re not in a rush, we obviously have a lot to figure out and that’s completely fine. The pace is completely up to you, I know that you need to get a lot of things straight in your head and I can wait, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I really like where we are now and… I just hope that we can move this forward whenever you feel comfortable with it.”
Harry stares back at you for a moment like you’re some alien creature. Like what you just said wasn’t normal or even human and that’s quite heartbreaking, because somewhere along the way he managed to convince himself that he is not worthy of the most basic decency.
“I-I can’t ask you to wait around while I figure my shit out, that’s not—“
“You’re not asking me, Harry,” you smile at him softly. “This is my decision.”
His eyes are shifting between yours and he is most likely looking for any sign of doubt or qualm, but there’s none, you genuinely meant everything you said.
“So, where does this leave us?” he then asks and you shrug your shoulders.
“Everything goes on like it used to and… whenever you are ready to take a step, just… let me know.”
You can tell he is filled with questions, but he just nods with a weak smile and leaves it at that. This will be a bumpy ride, but at least you are more or less on the same page now.
You haven’t been a big fan of birthday celebrations. You just never understood the big fuss about it, throwing a party for surviving another year? Seems a little weird. This is why you never treated this day any different.
The morning starts off as usual, only that you wake up to a few texts from friends and family, wishing you a happy birthday. Your mom has sent you a whole damn paragraph about how you made her life complete and it wouldn’t be the same without you in it. She does that every time, gets a little too sentimental about it, but you guess it’s because it reminds her of getting old herself as well, which is a sensitive topic in her book these days.
It’s a Sunday, so a day off for you. Coming downstairs you find Izzy and Harry sitting at the dining table, already having their breakfast as usual, but when she sees you, she jumps in her seat in excitement.
“Good morning, Y/N!” she beams with a wide smile, buzzing more than she usually does.
“Morning, Sunshine. Slept well?” you ask as you pour yourself some cereal and join them at the table. Izzy nods and then peeks at her father as if she is trying to hide something with him from you.
“Daddy, can we do it now?” she asks in a whisper, but it’s not quiet enough for you to not hear it.
Your eyes lock with Harry’s over the table and the butterflies in your stomach start dancing around right away when you see the tiny smirk tugging on his lips.
It’s been almost an entire week since your conversation with him and things finally seem to get in place for now. Harry had his first session with his therapist on Wednesday and though you can tell he is still trying to find his own boundaries, he doesn’t worry as much about the situation as he probably did before. He isn’t walking on eggshells around you, unsure how to act. More or less it’s the same as it was before the kiss, but there are tiny little things that still make it different. Stolen glances, lingering touches and sweet smiles are making your days more colorful now and it’s gotten you all giddy and… happy.
“What are you two plotting, huh?” you ask, pointing at them with your spoon before digging into the cereal. Izzy glances at Harry one last time and when he nods shortly, she turns to you and throws her arms in the air.
“Happy birthday, Y/N!” she cheers as Harry reaches over to the chair next to him and pulls up a box from under the table, handing it over to Izzy so she could give it to you. “This is for you!”
“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything!” you gasp, truly surprised by the gift. You were not expecting it at all.
“It’s not a birthday without gifts!” she giggles excitedly as she hands the box over. You push your cereal bowl to the side and set the gift to the table in front of you. “Open it!” she urges you, her little hands curled into fists as she watches your every move, as if it was her who just got a present.
Your eyes meet Harry’s green ones over the table once more and he is watching you with a small smile, probably enjoying that he could surprise you.
You pull on the bow on the top and then carefully take the wrapping paper off until the box is revealed underneath and you gas as soon as you realize what this is.
“Oh my God!” you breathe out in disbelief as you take a better look at the gift. Harry didn’t just get you something, he actually listened to what you were saying and remembered that you’re a big fan of oldschool cameras and you have a special love for polaroids. And now, in front of you in the box is your very own polaroid camera, something you’ve been really wanting to buy for yourself for a long time, but you just never got around to actually do it.
“Do you like it? Daddy said you’d really like it!” Izzy asks with big eyes, watching your reaction.
“Oh, I love it!” you breathe out, feeling all mushy and melted from the gesture. Izzy climbs over to your lap, hugging your neck. You wrap your arms around her in a bone crushing hug and you’re so thankful for having them both in your life.
Izzy sits on your lap as you get the camera out of the box and figure out how to work it. She then hops off your lap and poses for the first ever picture taken with your new favorite camera.
“But it’s blank!” she furrows her eyebrows when the photo comes out.
“Because you have to wait for it to develop. It’ll show up in a few minutes,” you smile, setting the photo down on the table.
Izzy sits in her seat, excitedly waiting for the photo to develop and in the meanwhile you join Harry in the kitchen where he is washing the dishes. He spots you and turns the tap off, turning to face you as he dries his hands off.
“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything,” you tell him softly, but really feel touched by the gesture.
“No, but I wanted to. Do you really like it?”
“I love it!” you chuckle in disbelief. How could he think you wouldn’t like it?!
You move forward, aiming for a hug out of instinct but then stop yourself, not wanting to cross any boundaries, but Harry notices the motion and for your surprise, he wraps you in a warm hug on his own. You melt against his hard chest, your nose buried into his shoulder as your arms circle around his waist.
When you lean back, you both keep your arms around each other, eyes meeting and you realize just how close you are to each other. Without even knowing, your gaze flickers down to his lips and you’re dying to kiss him, to feel them again, but you don’t move, wanting to keep your word about letting him set the pace.
But what you didn’t expect is Harry leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. It’s so different from the last time, that was a hot mess, but this one… this is light as a feather but still makes your stomach somersault as you taste his lips, cupping his face in your hands.
“Daddy! I’m thirsty!” Izzy calls out from outside and it kind of ends the moment. Harry pulls back and when you look at him you see that his eyes are still closed. They flutter open a moment later, finding your gaze and you look for any kind of regret or fear in them, but they are nothing but shiny.
“Just a moment, baby!” he answers her, a small smile tugging on his lips as he leans down and pecks the corner of your mouth again before his hands fall from your waist. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” he breathes out before grabbing a bottled water and heading back to Izzy.
You bring your fingertips to your tingling lips as you take a moment to really process what just happened and you can’t push down the smile that spreads across your face. Harry finally took the first step and now you can’t wait to see what’s coming next.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!
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