#very much glorified background study

[geneclarksboobs]

the boys the beach NO they are boys at the petting zoo

(static ver under the cut)

#very much glorified background study #thats probably not the right word #the beach boys #brian wilson #carl wilson #dennis wilson #mike love #al jardine #my art #pretty proud of this tee hee #i need to get my painting environments swag up and thats why im doing them

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Courting Erik

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- The worst thing about being a female musician is that; unless you have a lineage to ride the coattails of, you’re oftentimes not taken seriously. The orchestra is reserved for lithe men with bushy moustaches and three piece suits and little girls are lucky to be ballerinas or background actresses; if anything at all. 

- But you always held onto the hope that you’d get your chance, and that hope payed off when the owner of the Opera Populaire stumbled across your playing and invited you out to the city of Paris so that you could work in his Orchestra. 

- You were over the moon once you’d heard the news and had to pinch yourself in order to ensure that you weren’t dreaming. It all seemed too good to be true …and oh how true that statement would wind up being....

- Once you arrived at the theater, it took all of three minutes for you to realize that you weren’t going to be anything there besides a glorified maid. But, thinking you could at least study under the greats and have a foot in the door; no matter how painful, you decided to bite the bullet and stay. 

- During the day, you ran around in circles like a chicken with it’s head cut off: meticulously tending to every wish and whim of the composer and his musical associates. But during the night, once all your chores were finished and forgotten, you were able to marvel at the beauty of the theater and practice your playing; whether in the pit or just in the privacy of the broom closet you called a bedroom. 

- That was where Erik first came across you. 

- About a month into your stay; once you’d finally managed to get settled in and form a routine in which you weren’t too exhausted to practice, you found yourself sat in one of the chairs in the orchestra pit, following along to the music you’d just about memorized from the sheer amount of times you’d listened to it being played. 

- The music carried faintly throughout the entire theater until it reached the phantoms ears, drawing him closer and closer until he’d finally reached you; his heart skipping a beat once his eyes landed on your figure amongst the sea of velvet seats. 

- Thus marked the beginning of his obsession; though it would still take a bit of time for him to make his physical approach....

- Though him not revealing himself to you didn’t mean that you didn't feel his presence nearby. You’d oftentimes see shadows or figures just out of view or feel the skin prickling sensation of someone's eyes on you while you went about your day; especially while you were alone. 

- Those sorts things were easy to dismiss, feeling things was always easy to dismiss, …but tangible proof was another thing entirely. Your broken strings being replaced in the night or your instrument being perfectly tuned every morning was not nearly as easy to ignore. And with talk of the opera ghost buzzing all around you, you had a funny feeling that you knew exactly who was doing it....

- Teaching someone how to play an instrument requires a certain level of physicality so you won’t have to wait very long for “Erik” to show up in your life. He can’t guide you with only his voice, especially if he wants you to excel, so he introduces himself; though he doesn’t let you know who he is. 

- There’s hundreds of eccentric faces in the opera house so while seeing him in the flesh is a bit jarring, you don’t immediately suspect that he’s the fabled phantom. He comes to you as a friend, a gentleman who compliments your playing yet offers you guidance, promising that you’ll “be great” if you’ll just allow him to be your teacher. …And you eagerly accept, trusting him blindly....

- At first, he coaches you with a delicate reserve: circling the room as he instructs you with his voice and restraining himself whenever he corrects you with his fingers. But after your manager walks in on your much more perfected playing; ignoring your attempts to tell him about your teacher who’s suddenly vanished and left you alone in the room you were practicing in, he becomes much more intimate with you; under the guise of needing to guide you more closely if you’re going to be in a real orchestra. 

- Your practice sessions move to his lair where he takes you up in his arms and presses himself close to you, his hands moving across your body as he instructs you to “feel the music” and other innocent things turned seductive by his tone. Somedays, after the song ends and you realize the state you’re in, you grow embarrassed and detangle yourself from him, wanting to save face after realizing how improper all of it had been; your heart still racing as you make an excuse to leave....

- It isn’t long before the “opera ghost” begins to take a liking to you, writing letters to the owners of the theater and making demands about how they should be treating you. 

- As the owners resist, your competition is sabotaged until they have no choice but to favor you, pushing you to stardom as you try your best to hide the black ribbon tied rose that’s found its way into your instrument case; the beating of your own heart drowning out the hushed “phantom” filled whispers that surround you. 

- Perhaps this is unnecessary to add in but there are definitely moments prior to you getting into a relationship with Erik that the opera ghost humiliates a man who’s dared to flirt with you; calling him a pervert and other things of the sort through one of his infamous notes. 

- There’s also probably a moment where his mask gets caught in your hair and is pulled from his face, causing him to lurch away from you as if he was burned. You’ll move to see what’s wrong and he’ll yell at you to stay where you are, prompting you to stiffen and whip your head back to the other side of the room; swiftly apologizing and feeling as though you’ve somehow done something terribly improper.

- He’ll snatch his mask back and quickly place it back onto his face before he turns to look at you again; seeing that you’ve obeyed his command and continued to stay still. His heart will swell at how respectful you are and he’ll quietly tell you that you can turn back around; apologizing himself as he swallows down his jumbled nerves. 

- Regardless of these moments, Erik confesses his feelings to you during the night of your first shows final performance. 

- You don’t see him until late in the evening when you arrive at his lair: expecting to celebrate or at least be met with a bit of praise from your teacher. But that isn’t the case and you grow worried at his quiet demeanor and seemingly distracted mannerisms before you ask what’s wrong and get your answer. 

- He sits you down while he clutches something in his hand, telling you that before you begin again, he must ask you “this”. He extends his hand and shows you a diamond ring, his voice trembling faintly as he looks you in your eyes and asks if you’ll “be his”. 

- His proposal isn’t unexpected but it does surprise you. You’re aware of the romance between you but you hadn’t expected something so soon so you’re left to fumble for the right thing to say. Finally, you blink back your joyful tears and tell him “I’m yours”, smiling up at him while he processes what you’ve said. 

- For the first time since you’ve met him, you see him truly smile, his eyes misting as he slips the ring onto your finger. He gazes down at your newly bejeweled hand before placing his own gloved one on your cheek, leaning down to connect your lips in a delicate and loving kiss. 

- And thus begins your fate, an eternity of him before your eyes....

- Public displays of affection; for obvious reasons, aren’t very common in your relationship but if they were, he’d be prone to acting like a perfect gentleman: being polite but purposeful in his touches and mimicking the mannerisms of a man from high society. Jealousy may make him a bit touchier but your unwavering adoration would typically placate him; your obvious favoritism filling him with a smug sense of pleasure. 

- He oftentimes moves to hold your hand whenever you’re together; whether he’s leading you somewhere or just sitting down with you, but his touch is so delicate that you oftentimes feel the lingering sensation of his grasp even after he’s removed himself from you. 

- Gentle caresses. He treats you as if you’re vapor: in constant danger of fading away, should he touch you too quickly or too brashly. 

- Hugging you from behind is one of his favorite things to do; his hands stroking across your body as his face nuzzles into your hair. It doesn’t matter what the circumstance of his touch is, he’ll always find a reason to press himself against you. 

- Sometimes his kisses are rough: domineering and searing with passion; oftentimes from a bout of jealousy or far too much time spent away from each other. But other times they’re gentle and sweet: his movements featherlight and filled with a joyful sort of love that he reserves only for you. 

- Erik loves pet names; both giving and receiving. He loves the intimacy that they provide: knowing that he’s the only one calling you those things and that you love him enough to want to call him something so tender. Expect a lot of theater or art references and things like “my angel” or “my darling”; they’re his favorite terms of endearment. 

- It takes a while for Erik to grow accustomed to having you; though it’s in a positive and content sort of way. He cherishes the time he spends with you; as if it isn’t going to last, which is why he has a habit of watching you sleep; marveling at your beauty like you’re a priceless work of art. 

- Looking at you; in general, is a pretty common habit of his. He finally has the chance to study your features up close and he’s not going to waste a second of it. No matter how long you’ve been together, he never gets tired of seeing your face. 

- But, when he isn’t sitting up on his elbow and gazing at you, he’s cradling you in his arms: your face in his chest, his arm under your neck and his hand holding your hip/waist.

- Touch starved is the only way to describe him. Any affection you give him is received with the melting of his body and the fluttering of his eyes. He relaxes instantly at your touch and aches to have it whenever you’re near. 

- It’s why you should place his head in your lap, cushioning him with the frills of your dress and the plump flesh of your thighs as your hand strokes lovingly through his hair. It’s the least he deserves. 

- Speaking of the frills of your dress: he occasionally dresses you up the same way you would a doll, placing you in glamorous gowns and gently styling your hair. Once he’s done, your reflection gazes back at you in the form of an angel and his a man of god; ready to pray at your alter and worship you for as long as he lives. 

“You spoil me.”

“There’s no such thing.”

- He does everything in his power to ensure that you’re happy and provided for, and that oftentimes means that his monthly allowance is; at least partially, spent on gifts. You can try to insist that he doesn’t have to buy you things but the most effective thing you can do is combat his buying with buying of your very own. 

- Purchase him books to occupy himself with or food for the two of you to share and the expense he spends on you will feel at least somewhat repaid. And you’ll get to see his somewhat surprised yet fond smile whenever you hand them to him. 

- But, regardless of everything else he gives you, his music is his greatest gift of all and his sharing of it should not be underemphasized. His work is very personal to him so you being allowed to hear and see it proves just how much he trusts you and loves you. In giving you his music, he gives you his heart so treat it with the utmost care and respect. 

- Having him sing for you and being urged to sing for him as well. You don’t even have to be a good singer: he’ll either coach you himself or bask in the earnestness of your clumsy vocals; enjoying how sweet and intimate they sound. 

- Considering the fact that the entire beginning of your relationship revolved around you playing an instrument, one could imagine that he’d occasionally ask you to play: whether it’s just to listen to you perform or if it’s him enlisting your help while trying to come up with the different instrumental portions of a new musical. 

- He’s; obviously, more of an organ man himself, and you’ll oftentimes get the chance to listen to him play: though he’ll sometimes play in order to let off a little steam so try and gauge whether he’s hitting those keys a little too hard. You might need to give him a hug or implore him to vent to you. 

- But, if you’re not someone who’s musically inclined, you’d still have a seat beside him in box 5 and the ability to appreciate his art through the theater troupes impressive performance of it. 

- It wouldn’t take you long to pick up on little pieces of theater lingo and the first time he heard you nonchalantly show your knowledge, he couldn’t help but smile. He thought it was adorable; regardless of whether or not you actually knew precisely what you were talking about. 

- Marveling at his miniatures and the other creations he has hidden away in his lair.

- Exploring the ins and outs of his domain, oftentimes; if not always, with him as your attentive guide. 

- You always feel as though you’re in a dream when you’re with him and it’s one that you pray you’ll never wake up from. It’s wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time and there’s not a single thing inside it that you’d ever wish to change. 

- Though he’ll always have a flair for the dramatics, he’ll also begin to let his guard down and act more like himself the longer you’re together. He’ll feel less of a need to appear over the top and mysterious in order to draw you in and make you love him; allowing you to see the real him.

- Although, even when he’s dropped his act, he’ll still find it difficult to let you see him without his mask. He’ll hurriedly cover his face whenever it manages to come off and he’ll insist that he’s a monster and that you won’t want to see him no matter how much you try to assure him that you’ll still love him: so you just try your best to be patient and wait until he’s comfortable enough to show you himself. 

- Comforting him and letting him know that there’s nothing he can do that would ever make you abandon him. Sometimes he’ll dream that you’ve left him for good and you’ll wake to find him pacing or clutching you as close to him as possible, and you’ll just give him a quiet “I love you” to ease his nerves and let him know how much you care. 

- There’s going to be a lot of working through trauma but he’s definitely someone who’s worth it. He’s not a perfect person but he’s willing to get better in order to make you happy and that’s all that really matters. 

- Quiet companionship. He likes being in the same room as you even when he’s busy with his own work so you’ll oftentimes find your own thing to do while you stay down there with him. 

- Sitting in forgotten corners and up in the rafters with him: watching as the sun sets or the people around you go about their day. 

- Dancing together. You’ve probably taken him to a masquerade ball and it’s a memory he holds very close to his heart. 

- Imagining him cooped up in the theater day in and day out tends to upset you so you try your best to sneak him out from time to time; even if it’s just for a measly little picnic in the cemetery or forest. 

- Him appearing out of nowhere because he knows all the little ways to get in and out of the rooms you’re in without being caught. You’ve grown so accustomed to his sudden invasions that you’re probably one of the easiest individuals to kidnap; considering the fact that you merely sigh contentedly every time someone touches you whenever you think you’re alone. 

- Always sensing that he’s near, even when you can’t see him. He’s almost always watching you and it’s sort of comforting in a way: knowing that you’re not alone; even when you’re as nervous or scared as can be. 

- But him watching you also means that you can never hide something from him; even if it’s just an innocent surprise. He’ll pretend to be shocked for your sake but you’ll never actually manage to do so organically. At least he’ll always know when he needs to comfort you without you having to explain what happened. 

- Him always being there for and taking care of you. He enjoys looking after you and making sure that you’re healthy and happy so expect him to do whatever he can to have you stay that way. 

- Please give him praise. He’s used to insults and mockery and being known as a menace or a freak so compliments coming from you; the person he loves the most, will mean the world to him. 

- You’re the only one who’s capable of calming him down with just a single word or touch. He’s a sucker for you and his anger fades the moment you go soft on him. 

- This is arguably stupid but I think Erik deserves to have a pet cat and I think you should be the one to give it to him. They can keep him company whenever you’re not around and they can also help with the rat infestation: they’re a multipurpose friend! 

- Madame Giry routing for your relationship to work out and doing everything in her power to help the two of you whenever it was necessary. She’s your biggest ally in the garish light of day.

- I feel like he would occasionally disappear for days at a time; particularly before the two of you started courting each other, and then suddenly speak to you from his usual hiding place; taking you by surprise. You’d ask who was there and he’d somewhat teasingly ask if you’ve forgotten your angel; bringing a smile to your face as he shows himself to you once more. 

- It’s probably fairly obvious by now but Erik is definitely a possessive lover; especially since your relationship is so secretive and hidden away from the outside world. He relishes in you “belonging” to him but it’s only because he belongs to you just as much, if not more. 

- He’ll oftentimes sabotage situations in order to keep you all to himself: though they’re oftentimes things you aren’t necessarily excited for or replaced with such a wonderful scenarios that you don’t even mind nor notice that you’ve missed them until it’s too late. 

- Erik is, at his core, a very jealous person, but how he reacts to his jealousy will oftentimes depend on the situation at hand and how you behave in response to it. If you show no interest in the man, the phantom will react in a much more civilized manner: writing a pointed note or making an anonymous threat; focusing more on how annoying it must be for you to deal with as opposed to the way it makes him feel. But, if you appear to actually like the person, things won’t end nearly as neatly....

- It’s honestly best not to mention it whenever someone insults or otherwise makes you feel uncomfortable because; before you know it, your lover will have taken it to the extreme and dealt with the situation in an oftentimes less than desirable way. 

- He’s willing to do everything in his power to ensure that you’re safe and killing someone in order to achieve that tranquility will not be out of the ordinary for him. Be sure to insist that you don’t want someone dead whenever something winds up happening to you; though I can’t guarantee that that clarification will stop him from at least imposing some sort of damage onto them. 

- Erik has a bit of a temper so; even though he genuinely hates getting into arguments with you, fights still break out between you every now and again; usually prompted by some sort of outside force or his own insecurities. He has a tendency to snap whenever he’s upset so don’t be surprised if he lashes out at you: raising his voice and/or saying something cruel in the heat of the moment. 

- You’ll resign yourself to giving him space; or storm out in your own fit of anger, and you’ll keep away from him for a while: going about your business like usual and ignoring how awful you feel. 

- Typically, if you want to make up with him, you’ll have to seek him out yourself: journeying back into his domain and finding him in varying states of agony. He’ll be taken aback by your sudden appearance; thinking that you staying away from him meant that you hated him or that your pride was too strong. But his momentary surprise won’t stop him from almost immediately latching onto you and apologizing as he whispers about how he thought you’d left him forever; effectively breaking down any resolve you had left in you.

- Erik’s love for you drips from his every pore so even if he didn’t say the words everyday, you’d still know exactly how much he cared for you just from his actions alone. 

- No matter how much time passes nor how long you’ve been apart, his love for you remains just as strong as it was the first time he saw you and he’ll prove that to you everyday that you spend together for the rest of your lives. 

#phantom of the opera x reader #the phantom of the opera imagine #the phantom of the opera imagines #the phantom of the opera headcanons #the phantom of the opera headcanon #erik poto #phantom of the opera erik #erik imagine #erik headcanons #erik headcanon #erik imagines #phantom of the opera imagine #phantom of the opera headcanons #phantom of the opera headcanon #phantom of the opera imagines #the phantom of the opera 2004

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I’m a college adjunct professor in the liberal arts and I confess I like plenty of your posts on your blog which give food for thought, the rest of it I violently disagree. Despite your Oxbridge education in the Classics I’m perplexed that a blog dedicated to high culture should spend time glorifying war. I get that you served in Afghanistan with the Royal Army as a combat pilot so that’s your lived experience. My question is why do you post on military history, especially classical civilization, which just glorifies dead white men? Isn’t the study of classics passé today? I don’t see what our progressive society can possibly learn from dead Greeks and Romans.

Thank you for reaching out and I appreciate your comments. Let me get a few things out of the way before I get to the heart of your question. I’ve never understood the term violently disagree, what does that even mean? Does it mean resorting to violence to further or finish an argument? I hope not.

I don’t mean to pick on you but I find it weird that it’s often modern educated liberal leftists (and their far right counterparts I should add) who’ve never seen real violence or been violent themselves - because they’re benignly bourgeois and happy to comment on things that outrage them from the safety of the sidelines - but leave the actual fighting in a real war to others.

In the British case it’s the working class and the upper middle and upper classes (the historic structure of the British army) but in the US the vast majority of those who serve come from blue collar and middle class backgrounds but not the well off college educated elite, so that progressives and everyone else for that matter can enjoy the comfortable bourgeois lives they lead but happily shit on the sacrifices of the very same people who fight for the way of life they take for granted.

Anyway, I’m venting, and for that I apologise. Of course we can disagree but I hope not violently. I prefer civility regardless of how passionate one’s beliefs are. There’s no point winning an argument if you don’t win over the person too. In that spirit let us continue.

I’m not going to defend the study of Classics as a whole here. I’ve addressed that question elsewhere in my blog and perhaps it would make my tutors at Cambridge blush but here’s my piss poor attempt nonetheless (click on this link to the blog post)

Otherwise there are plenty of excellent Ancient Greek and ancient world related blogs well worth your time to browse through and even learn from about the importance of the ancient world. Here are just a few:

I would recommend the following:

https://gemsofgreece.tumblr.com/

https://www.tumblr.com/alatismeni-theitsa

https://wordsmithic.tumblr.com/

https://thoodleoo.tumblr.com/

Just another house keeping point. It may sound trivial but it’s important. It’s just the British Army not the Royal British army. I’m assuming you’re American and so it’s understandable that you’re more likely to make that error because you’re not British. We have a Royal Navy and even a Royal Air Force but curiously not a Royal Army. Why that is so is rooted in our peculiar British history going back to Charles I and II. The Royal Navy was always loyal to the monarchy during the war with Parliament and so it kept the Royal bit. The army not so much. Indeed the origin of the British army was Cromwell and his famed New Model Army, in other words, it was an instrument of Parliament. Since the restoration of the throne all army officers and soldiers swear an oath of loyalty to the reigning monarch.

But it’s also true there is alternative legitimate argument that there never has been a British army per se, just a tribal collection of regiments with their own roots to a community, proud traditions and rituals unique to that regiment, and fiercely guarded independence.

The argument goes that the British Army actually goes further back than the English civil war of Cromwell and Charles I. A monarch would raise a force by calling on his nobleman to call their own men from their lands to arms and fight for him (a regiment). Only a very, very small proportion of an army would be directly paid and commanded by the monarch. By contrast, as far back as the Saxon period, English/British monarchs have maintained a fleet of warships at their own expense.

From the Restoration onwards there were still lingering distrust between Parliament and the monarchy, especially over the issue of a standing army, which was seen as totally opposed to the liberty of the nation. The Bill of Rights in 1689 stipulated that a standard army could only be paid for by Parliament, even if the monarch was the nominal commander-in-chief. This meant that Parliament had to repeatedly allocate money from the Treasury to fund the army, which meant that it regularly had to pass Acts to do so. If Parliament didn’t pass those Acts, the army would cease to exist. It existed at the behest of Parliament and was, therefore, not the monarch’s property. It was therefore not Royal.

Today a Corps Warrant is the formal document that legally establishes the various regiments and corps of the British Army for the purposes of the Armed Forces Act 2006. This reflects the historical origins of these unique regiments or corps, which were raised on the authority of the Sovereign, usually by a named individual and by means of a royal warrant or commission granted for that purpose.

Now to get to the heart of the questions you raised.

I hope to God I don’t glorify war. If I am guilty of anything it is recognising the sacrifices those in uniform have made for the societies they serve (forgetting for the moment the legitimacy of war or how war is waged by their political masters). Anyone who has gone to war or experienced war does not glorify war. They bear the brunt of what the cost of war is - they witness the death of a comrade in arms or silently observe the ashen corpses that were once living and breathing men, women, and children. Surviving is the only glory of war. 

I have to take issue with your very rosy picture that society and culture would run just fine without war, when history has shown it is its engine. No one put it in a more pithy way than Orson Welle’s amoral character Harry Lime in that class film The Third Man, “In Italy, for 30 years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed - they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo Da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love and 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did they produce? The cuckoo clock!”

Society - let alone a culture - does not operate in a vacuum. Something gives birth to society. In this case war gives birth to society, however unpalatable that truth affects your progressive sensibilities. “War is the father of all things”, Heraclitus wrote.

In fact, most of human history is about war; war shaped societies; war made people rich; war made people poor; war destroyed cultures; war shaped cultures; war brought religions; war entertained; war was waged for nothing; war was waged for everything. Do you know honestly believe in your understanding of world history that only these so-called dead white men of Greece and Rome waged war? If you do, then I question how historically illiterate your understanding is of non-Western history.

It is only fitting that humankind’s first true historian was a general and it just so happens he was a Greek. Thucydides of Athens was one of the ten “Strategoi”, the elected military leaders of the democratic Athens. When the Athenians lost an important battle in 422 BC, Thucydides was blamed for the loss and sent to exile. To serve for the Athenian democracy was in a certain sense not unlike serving under modern dictators: one “wrong” result could lead to banishment or even death. Thucydides, therefore, watched the great conflict between Athens and Sparta from the sidelines. Between 431 and 404 BC, both poleis fought a multidimensional war in which all Greek states and many of the neighbouring nations got sucked in. Sparta won in the end, but lost the following peace. The Greek poleis had lost so much blood, treasure, and will that they were no longer able to fight off the monarchies around them (like they did against the Persians in 490 and 480 BC).

For Thucydides there were three reasons for war: fear, interest, honour. Undoubtedly, this was a most insightful concept that holds truth till today.

We owe a lot to the Greeks and Romans - not as much as many would like to think because of the impact of Western Christianity from where we draw much of our shared beliefs such as human rights and individual integrity (please read Cambridge educated classicist Tom Holland’s excellent book Millennium: The End of the World and the Forging of Christendom) - and it is rightly seen as one of the bedrocks of Western civilisation.

The university today and Western society at large has forgotten that history itself had begun with Herodotus and Thucydides as the story of armed conflicts. These so-called ‘dead white men’ actually teach us something about ourselves as individuals and as a society. And that is as Thucydides wrote, “War is a violent teacher.” Thucydides knew from personal experience that war could teach people to do terrible things.

There are many reasons why people are drawn to military history. People may feel drawn to military history because they wants to learn about virtues forged out of war such as duty, honour, and sacrifice (don’t laugh), or because of interest in technology or because of a pathological need to experience violence (more often than we care to admit), if only vicariously. The importance - and challenge - of the academic study of war is to elevate that popular enthusiasm into a more capacious and serious understanding, one that seeks answers to such questions as: Why do wars break out? How do they end? Why do the winners win and the losers lose? How best to avoid wars or contain their worst effects?

A peace time public illiterate about the conflicts of the past can easily find itself paralysed in the acrimony of the present. Without standards of historical comparison, it will prove ill equipped to make informed judgments.

It’s not that military history offers cookie-cutter comparisons with the past. Instead, knowledge of past wars establishes wide parameters of what to expect from new ones. Themes, emotions, and rhetoric remain constant over the centuries, and thus generally predictable. Athens’s disastrous expedition in 415 BC against Sicily, the largest democracy in the Greek world, may not prefigure the West’s war in Iraq. But the story of the Sicilian calamity does instruct us on how consensual societies can clamour for war - yet soon become disheartened and predicate their support on the perceived pulse of the battlefield.

Military history is as often the story of appeasement as of warmongering. The destructive military careers of Alexander the Great, Caesar, Napoleon, and Hitler would all have ended early had any of their numerous enemies united when the odds favoured them.

Indeed, by ignoring history, the modern age is free to interpret war as a failure of communication, of diplomacy, of talking - as if aggressors don’t know exactly what they’re doing. Margaret Atwood, a writer I do admire, once put it, “War is what happens when language fails”. This was a view echoed by many between the two World Wars. It was an argument popularised by historians such as AJP Taylor at the time. But we now know that not to be true.

For the easily triggered narcissist generation raised on woke popular culture, real life problems between states, like those in our personal lives, should be argued about by equally civilised and peaceful rivals, and so solved without resorting to violence and done in the spirit of inclusivity and diversity.

Yet it’s hard to find many wars that result from miscommunication. Far more often they break out because of malevolent intent and the absence of deterrence. To her credit, it was Margaret Atwood who would write in her poem: “Wars happen because the ones who start them / think they can win.” That’s it in a nutshell. Nothing fancy or intellectual or intersectional just a simple brutal truth: power trumps all. It was Hitler who put it in stark terms, “If you win, you need not have to explain...If you lose, you should not be there to explain!”

In the twenty-first century, it’s easier than ever to succumb to technological determinism, the idea that science, new weaponry, and globalisation have altered the very rules of war. But military history teaches us that our ability to strike a single individual from 30,000 feet up with a GPS bomb or a jihadist’s efforts to have his propaganda beamed to millions in real time do not necessarily transform the conditions that determine who wins and who loses wars.

True, instant communications may compress decision making, and generals must be skilled at news conferences that can now influence the views of millions worldwide. Yet these are really just new wrinkles on the old face of war. The improvised explosive device versus the armoured fighting vehicle (AFV) or the RPG rocket launcher against an Apache AH64 helicopter are simply an updated take on the catapult versus the stone wall or the harquebus versus the mailed knight. The long history of war suggests no static primacy of the defensive or the offensive, or of one sort of weapon over the other, but just temporary advantages gained by particular strategies and technologies that go unanswered for a time by less adept adversaries.

Military history reminds us of important anomalies and paradoxes. When Sparta invaded Attica in the first spring of the Peloponnesian war, Thucydides recounts, it expected the Athenians to surrender after a few short seasons of ravaging. They didn’t - but a plague that broke out unexpectedly did more damage than thousands of Spartan ravagers did. Twenty-seven years later, a maritime Athens lost the war at sea to Sparta, an insular land power that started the conflict with scarcely a navy. The 2003 removal of Saddam refuted doom-and-gloom critics who predicted thousands of deaths and millions of refugees, just as the subsequent messy four-year reconstruction didn’t evolve as anticipated into a quiet, stable democracy - to say the least. Hubris always goes before a fall.

Finally, military history has the moral purpose of educating us about past sacrifices that have secured our present freedom and security. If we know nothing of Hastings, Agincourt, Boyne, Trafalgar, Waterloo, Somme, Passchendaele, Battle of Britain, El Alamein, Imphal, Kohima, Falklands, and Helmand, the crosses in our military cemeteries are just pleasant grey stones on lush green lawns. They no longer serve as reminders that thousands endured pain and hardship for our right to listen to what we wish on our smartphones and to shop online in safety, and to protest for social grievances by desecrating statues - or that they expected future generations, links in this great chain of obligation, to do the same for those not yet born.

Most nations are born through war, reunited by war, and saved from destruction by war. No future generation, however comfortable and affluent (yes, that includes you from the safety of your ivory tower), should escape that terrible knowledge. I don’t enjoy saying that and I certainly don’t revel in it. I only say it because it’s what the span of human history teaches us and what my personal experience of the battlefield has been.

We must all abandon the naive faith that with enough money, education, or good intentions, we can change the nature of mankind so that conflict, as if by fiat, becomes a thing of the past. In the end, the study of war reminds us that we will never be gods. We will always just be men (and women), it tells us. Some men and women will always prefer war to peace; and other men and women, we who have learned from the past, have a moral obligation to stop them. Because if we don’t then something much worse will always meet us further down the line and we may not be able to stop them.

I don’t apologise for my less than rosy view of human nature but long before history littered the battlefields of Marathon and Thermopylae or Alesia and Canae with dead white males, we would do well to heed the words of Cormac McCarthy who wrote in Blood Meridian, or the Evening Redness in the West, “War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner.”             

Thanks for your question.

#ask #question #war #military history #western society #greek #roman #civilisation #human nature #human condition #british army #western civilisation #thucydides #personal #heraclitus #classical #history #society #culture

[vodid]

How do you plan your stories? Do you actually have a sheet where you write anything down? And if you do, what do you put in it?

Cause I’m planning a story and I have no idea of where to start 😭

I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO ANSWER SOMETHING LIKE THIS BC I'D LOOOVE TO REDIRECT YOU TO SUNA SCRIBBLES' AMAZING WRITING ADVICE TAG because it has helped me SO much

here's a tldr(ish) for how i approached writing a fic. we'll use my blitzbee fic as an example:

come up with a scene you really really want to write for the fic. for me, it was the first meet of blitzwing and bumblebee arguing on the cliff in chapter 2. write everything that comes to mind with that scene and do not worry about making it fic quality. important actions, dialogue, setting, etc. make typos! make mistakes! make it silly! you'll rewrite it later

when you write out a scene, you may get hints of a plot (such as conflict characters can work through, whether internal or external) and character portrayals + interactions. from the example above specifically, we have a) bumblebee is big sad, b) the autobots don't like bee for some reason, and c) blitzwing is so weirded out by bee's big sad that he doesn't want to immediately kill him. all of these can be expanded upon, so from that:

write out the main characters' traits. their strengths, weaknesses, secrets, fears, quirks. anything. then write out reasons why they may have these traits and how it's important to their character development/conflict. make it fancy if you want!

i have more things in this part, such as motivation, the actual development/struggle, why he helps the other and why he lets the other help him. these are bullets a lot more in depth (and spoilery) and were added after i wrote this:

write out a basic plot. start middle end, if you can. you do not have to figure out every little thing (i didn't!) just a general idea of where you want to take this story. it does not have to be set in stone either. after all, my fic has six plots written out. four of them are drafts (lovingly titled Plot X, Plot 2, okay a more sensible plot and basic plot) and the last two are other important plots (overarching plot and trauma plot!) i have been actively revising these as i write the fic itself and with each plot written out, they increase in detail — let it happen! make all sorts of notes, whether in an indented bulleted list under each point or comments on the doc itself. i have 32 comments on mine full of notes!

if you're stuck here, studying the shape of stories by kurt vonnegut really helped me figure out a direction. also making the plot points written in silly ways took a lot of pressure off to get it perfect! while i may not reference the shape as much anymore (especially since the plot i wrote with it is outdated) it still gave me a really good start

and a side note, the overarching + trauma plots are to help guide me through the main plot. overarching is in the background, controlling and being controlled by the main plot's events, while the "trauma plot!" is for figuring out blitzwing's trauma. how did he get bpd? why? how does it affect him? how has it and others added more trauma? this is basically a glorified character past section lol

at the bottom of my outline doc, i have a section for future scenes i want to include. i have notes/comments on various spots and plot points that all have scenes attached, but these are the ones that are more detailed and need their own space. exactly like the first scene blurb in the very first bullet (which is actually at the top of my outline! i haven't deleted any of my past notes, even if they're outdated) actions, dialogue, notes — throw it all in there!

so after posting a chapter, i tend to take a break a few weeks long (or however long others need) to get back to the drawing board, making sure everything is up to date to prepare for the next chapter. it also really helps (for me personally) to have a buddy to rant to. i figure things out best when i'm talking to someone, or acting like i am, and can get feedback on it! ..or just let my brain figure itself out bc man have i gotten stuck on certain points before lol (see: trauma plot! and thats not even half of it)

it's not something that works for everyone — it didn't for me a year ago! but once you let go of rigid formatting and needing to have EVERY little thing figured out from the get-go, and just start typing what you want — with a little semblance of organization (at least labeling which is what) — you can go pretty far. but if not then maybe at the very least, it can lead you to a technique that works best for you.

true tldr: it's good to remember that anything relevant? write it down. doesn't have to be pretty, it just has to be functional. you want it to be easy to reabsorb if you forget the info

anyway tysm @morethanmeetstheass for all your writing advice :') its really helped my writing and my confidence 💖 i hope my post here can be as helpful to you anon 🥺

#sometimes it is good to figure out the plot n stuff before you go posting #but for me the change as you go livin' like larry approach has worked best :] #vulnerability fic #fanfic

[kyogre-blue]

Oh I just realised why it bugged me so much that Mondstadters forgot about Dvalin in 500 years - they still clearly remember Venessa's legend and what the Lawrence clan did over 1000 years ago, but you are telling me that in half that time they forgot the dragon that saved their asses and left the giant corpse of Durin draped over Dragonspine? Like??

That made me think though...do you figure Celestia did something to make the world forget about the Cataclysm, and Dvalin's battle with it? Like there's written records, and the giant corpse on the side of the mountain, but it'd make more sense for the average non-scholar non-adventurer person to have nevers read or seen those things.

No, I don't think Celestia had anything to do with it. I don't think there's any in-universe reason except something-something humans suck like that, Vennessa is a glorified part of their heritage and some dragon is whatever, who cares about it.

imo, the reason is very simple: Genshin writers are bad at consistency and keeping track of details.

You can see this everywhere in Genshin. It's in the worldbuilding details, it's in the character motivations, you can find examples constantly if you think a bit about basically any quest.

I expect it's an issue of the team having multiple writers, who simply do not have someone riding their asses to make sure they stay consistent and also aren't skilled enough to do it themselves. A recent interview mentioned that Type Moon has a lot of trouble hiring a new writer for their team because there's so much lore and background the new guy would need to study and keep track of, but I would guess that Genshin just does not care about maintaining that level of writing quality.

(Alternatively, keeping things consistent requires applying some logic to your writing and looking at the elements you write from a different angle to see if they still make sense once you take a step back. Genshin writing often does not do this.)

It's the same with my favorite kamera issue, where one writer put it down as being a super new invention that literally just appeared in Liyue, but another wanted to write a Fatal Frame-esque backstory for the Memento Lens so they made kameras present in Inazuma for way longer, and a third wanted to give Xavier a filmmaking hobby so they wrote in an entire movie industry.

It's the same for teleport points. The GAA writer made Paimon basically say she's got no idea what teleport points are and only knows portable waypoints, but the Katherine quest writer for Inazuma the very next patch made her joke about the Traveler being familiar with teleport points.

It's the same for the writer of Chongyun's voicelines making him annoyed about how Xiao disparages his clan's exorcism arts, but the Lantern Rite writer forgot all that and wrote Chongyun as an admiring seat-warmer for Xiao's first step into socialization.

Etc, etc.

There's loads of this across the board, it's really just..... Genshin, man.

#playing genshin

[battle-of-alberta]

feeling sore and grumpy because i can’t focus on art so instead i’m just going to try to organize my thoughts regarding the potential survey projects, specifically the historical timelines. Feel free to ignore this if you’re not interested in the meta/behind the scenes nonsense. I doubt any of this makes much sense outside my own head, but I have to chuck it somewhere so I can examine it from a distance later.

so i was envisioning doing timelines in a similar manner as I did for the provinces back in ProCan, albeit probably a bit more condensed because I just don’t have as much easily accessible detail into each city and so on.

But I realized upon trying to piece this puzzle together a bit better that it might just be a lot easier and more productive to do a very short, almost abstract ‘history of alberta’ and I actually started scripting it a bit while I was sitting in the park a few weeks ago and sort of liked the storybook feeling of it.

that said, it’s still very difficult to do because when reading history, any history, the worst parts of it tend to weigh on you, and especially when you are reading sources that seem to glorify these things and you have to sit with that discomfort for a long while before you can even begin to consider depicting it.

it does make you think - what are the stories i want to tell, but also what are the stories that need to be told, either by me or someone else? what information do i need to present and why and for whom? and more specifically: what roles do the characters play in the stories? how will my writing look in a decade?

I do way more introspection like this than actually trying to tell stories, lol. It’s a little paralyzing sometimes.

Here is a specific question: how does aging work in this universe? To get a sense of it, you have to arbitrarily pick an end and then a beginning, and then you have to sort out what everything in the middle means. You are always working backwards and looking retrospectively, so it’s important to accept that first.

for me, I’ve always liked to have a sort of mythological edge when I’m thinking about stories (because my background is actually in classics and not Capital H History) and so I think that aging is not a linear or easily quantifiable process. But it has to be grounded in Something, if it is meant to be a tool to look at the past with, and it has to make sense to a reader in some way.

When I was doing ancient history, I used art historical periods because comics were a study tool for me - I did not use them because they were ways the ancients measured time in or understood themselves in because we very rarely have access to that sort of information on the one hand, and on the other the ways the ancients understood themselves varied wildly from each other and I needed a consistent benchmark for my own sanity, and that was that. For modern historical periods, I have access to substantially more information and the added “benefit” that the “culture” being depicted is a culture that in large part shaped my own understanding of the world. It is also a culture that is coming under much more scrutiny than it had been within my lifetime, and the way we understand and speak about it is changing with increasing speed.

For the ages specifically, I’m looking at understanding a slice of time that stretches at its outermost edge the briefest brush with the Regency period and has half of its bulk wedged firmly in the Victorian period, and that shapes so much of how we look at this history, it touches everything from the images we choose to represent ourselves, the architecture, the physical distances between the places and the means of connecting them. It affects how we talk about history and the language we use, it affects our perception of the people who have been here since time immemorial and it is the reason that they are still struggling with being referred to in the past tense because of this culture of “salvage” anthropology that dovetailed so neatly with geological expeditions of the same period. These ideas produced this province that struggles to define itself on anything other than natural resources because it is a microcosm of something that was happening across the globe two hundred years ago that has never gone away.

So, it makes sense to me, for better or for worse, to measure ages linked less to the passage of time and more to these Victorian notions of “progress”. I think the heart of the matter is ‘age’ is relevant somewhat to the self perception of the personification, whether or not they are at all aware - and that self perception would primarily be shaped by these colonial influences, both positively and negatively.

It’s very difficult to walk these lines in writing though, particularly because there is both a danger in equating childhood with innocence during some of the bloodiest times in the history of this place; and there is also a danger in using children to represent populations of adults. It’s something I’m not going to resolve in a dumb project such as this, but it’s something I still think about how to do in a thoughtful way. I don’t like the idea that stories featuring children should be taken less seriously or as less important than stories featuring adults, but I’m also not really someone who knows how to do that tactfully. 

I mentioned briefly non-linear aging and I suppose what I meant by that implies the possibility of aging out of order, or regressing in age, and that also feels like it is over-complicating the matter even if it is an interesting possibility and probably won’t be a tool in the kit. I tend more to think of it as plateauing for a very long time at one age or another - and the reason for doing so is a choice made by me as an author and not something a character would be conscious of doing.

I’m going to stop there before I fall off the whole train of thought and go pick up one of those candy sticks from the station or something. Thanks for making it through this muskeg if you got this far.

#hapo rambles #boab meta

[gravitascivics]

THE PERCEPTUAL ANGLE

This blog is amid a series of postings.  To date there has been “Early On,” “Representations of Reality,” and “The TV Effect,”[1] that address Americans’ proclivity toward deviant behaviors, at least as compared to people of other societies.  To summarize, these postings have reviewed the nation’s targeted history that has glorified the individual in his/her quest to obtain economic wellbeing. 

The postings have also described a national philosophy that has taken hold which demeans thought and reflection and has made the here and now all important.  Added to this mix is a generally accepted psychological school of thought that lends itself to the idea that all of these biases are natural and amply ensconced in human nature.

          Basing its propositions on studies primarily done with clinical patients, the perceptual/humanist psychological approach (referred to here as perceptual psychology) promotes that clinical techniques be adopted and applied by those who run helping services, such as education.  Relying on the ideas of two leading perceptual theorists, the late Carl Rogers[2] and the late Arthur Combs,[3] their main argument was that behavior is a product of perceptions; that dysfunctional people in American society act deficiently because they have low self-regard for themselves.

          A healthier path for these people, according to the perceptual approach, would be to first, free themselves from social definitions of who they are or what they should be about, and second, to get these individuals to define their own standards of what is good and proper.  What is important in treating these people is not so much their psychological background, but the immediate behaviors they actuate or the feelings they express.

          The perceptual approach then, in applying this line of reason to schools, advocates a curriculum that:

Is characterized by a warm atmosphere, in which the teacher is helper, communicates a warm positive acceptance, and demonstrates empathetic understanding.

Communicates that students can always accomplish the objectives they set forth (making evaluation very problematic).

Provides problems that are relevant to the student (preferably identified by the student).

And encourages the student to define his own sense of morality (they speak of responsible choices, but this does not seem to be defined).[4]

In the last few decades, some associate the self-esteem movement in American schools as being derived from perceptual psychology.

          This blogger argues that perceptual psychology, to varying degrees, has been accepted by educational academia and school district administrators.  While its positivity can be of much help in encouraging students, its either/or approach – either one is encouraging students, or one is a negative factor in dealing with them – oversimplifies reality. 

He bases that view on his own experiences – over thirty years – as an educator.[5]  This perceptual approach lends itself to softening critiques of students’ work products and behaviors to the point of misleading students in how well or productive they are.  With its emphasis on temporal perspectives and individualism, the psychological school is highly congruent with the philosophical history of the nation as described earlier in this series of postings.

          But more to the point of this presentation, as a prevailing accepted position among educators, it has become part of the sociological forces operating in the nation.  Its effects have been to further an atmosphere of irresponsibility.  Adoption of perceptual theory does this because it neglects communal realities.  Culture and its sanctions toward improper behavior are relegated, to a meaningful degree, as having an illegitimate function.[6]

            Sanctions are seen as interfering with the development of true self.  Yesterday’s effects are cast as unimportant, and with them, their source of shame for wrongdoing is forgotten.  Americans have done away with a great deal of traditional social standards.  Yes, many should have been tossed out – for example, this blogger thinks about standards based on racist beliefs.

But with its anti-federated notions – e.g., discarding communal supports and expectations – of what is right or wrong, there has been the discarding of the very beliefs that underlie people becoming socially and politically federated; that is, generating a sense of partnership among the populous.

Statements of generally accepted notions of right and wrong behavior are seen by this perceptual approach as cumbersome and in the way.  Discipline and its demands are regularly seen as irrelevant, except as they might be useful to acquire material success (a middle-class belief that is shrinking along with the size of the middle class).

          The progressive pedagogy and its parent philosophy, pragmatism, lack a firm ethical base and this has made advocates susceptible to the perceptual argument.[7]  Peter F. Oliva identifies perceptual psychology as a main branch of progressive education.[8]  This blogger argues it is the one element of progressive education that has been extensively adopted by the nation’s schools in their practices.

[1] See Robert Gutierrez, “Early On,” Gravitas:  A Voice for Civics, February 13, 2024, accessed February 15, 2024, URL:  https://gravitascivics.blogspot.com/, “Representations of Reality,” Gravitas:  A Voice for Civics, February 16, 2024, accessed February 17, 2024, URL:  https://gravitascivics.blogspot.com/, and “The TV Effect,” Gravitas:  A Voice for Civics, February 16, 2024, accessed February 17, 2024, URL:  https://gravitascivics.blogspot.com/.

[2] Carl R. Rogers, “Learning to Be Free?” in Readings in Curriculum, edited by Glen Hass, Kimball Wiles, and Joseph Bondi (Boston, MA:  Allyn and Bacon, Inc., 1970), 219-239.

[3] Arthur W. Combs, “Seeing Is Behaving,” in Readings in Curriculum, edited by Glen Hass, Kimball Wiles, and Joseph Bondi (Boston, MA:  Allyn and Bacon, Inc., 1970), 210-219.

[4] For example, Paul Main, “What Is Carl Rogers’ Theory of Personality Development?” Structural Learning, December 2, 2022, accessed February 20, 2024, URL:  https://www.structural-learning.com/post/carl-rogers-theory#:~:text=He%20believed%20that%20children%20learn,to%20accept%20their%20children%20unconditionally.

[5] For a more scholarly critique see Kathleen O’Dwyer, “’The Quiet Revolutionary’:  A Timely Revisiting of Carl Rogers’ Visionary Contribution to Human Understanding,” International Journal of Existential Psychology and Psychotherapy, 4, 1 (July 2012), 67-78, accessed February 22, 2024, URL:  https://www.meaning.ca/web/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/186-13-347-2-10-20171212.pdf.

[6] This determination falls logically from the elements of perceptual psychology, but its consequences have spurred an entire literature bemoaning the lack of community in America.  As an example see Naomi LaChance, “So Long, Neighbor,” U. S. News and World Report, August 21, 2014,  accessed February 21, 2024, URL:  https://www.usnews.com/opinion/articles/2014/08/21/america-is-losing-its-sense-of-community-says-marc-dunkleman.

[7] To see an early attempt at establishing an ethical standard by one of John Dewey’s disciples, read Boyd H. Bode.  See “Boyd H. Bode and the Social Aims of Education,” The Free Library by Farlex (n.d.), accessed February 21, 2024, URL:  https://www.thefreelibrary.com/Boyd+H.+Bode+and+the+social+aims+of+education.-a0142385289.

[8] Peter F. Oliva, Developing the Curriculum (Boston, MA:  Little Brown and Company, 1982).

#perceptual psychology #perceptions #self-esteem #culture #discipline #civics education #social studies

[amayasnep]

Exploring Belief – A Post I Spent Way Too Much Time Writing

I figure its a good moment to share my thoughts on some of the exploration I've been engaged in for well over a year now.

Background

So to keep things super brief, I had a predominantly secular upbringing with a dash of Christianity thrown in there because that's how American society be. Religious activities like baptism and first communion were performed not out of a profound sense of belief, but out of tradition and practicality. It kept different avenues open for me to figure out on my own. I never regularly attended church and vacation bible study was a glorified summer camp. That's not to say I didn't internalize what I was being taught.

Fast forward to 2015 where, one night, I thought over my beliefs. I came to realize none of this made sense to me. Not only were some of the things I was taught irreconcilably contradictory to me, but I honestly didn't buy a lot of the key aspects of the faith. In a way I wasn't being honest with myself by continuing to identify a Christian. So I left Christianity, identifying instead as an agnostic. (Insert inflammatory comment about having never truly been a Christian to begin with)

Religions have always been interesting to me for a variety of reasons, but none have ever sparked a flame within me, so to speak. Then again, I never really gave my personal beliefs much thought beyond being "agnostic" or "spiritual but not religious".

A Question

One summer evening last year, a friend of mine and I sat down to watch a dumpster fire of a debate on YouTube. My friend, an absolute nerd who streams on Twitch as "GamingWithEvery1", identifies as an agnostic atheist and is definitely a product of the New Atheism movement. With his lead, we critiqued the debater for their poor debate etiquette, circular reasoning, and presuppositional consistencies in pushing their problematic worldview. It was something to behold.

Sometime near the end of the debate he asked me what my beliefs were. Although I'd asked myself that question before, I hadn't given it much more than a passive thought. It quickly became apparent I had no fully formed thoughts on the matter. The very fact I had nothing cohesive to say troubled me deeply, a state of puzzlement I later learned is called aporia. What do I believe?

And so, I began a search for my beliefs.

Early Exploration

One of the first things I did, like any reasonable person would, was take a belief system quiz. The goal was to give myself a rough idea of where my beliefs lie. I retook the quiz a few times over several days and I wrote down the top six that best aligned with my own beliefs. In no particular order they were Unitarian Universalism, Buddhism, Reform Judaism, Neopaganism, Secular Humanism, and Agnosticism. From there I laid everything out on a spreadsheet and decided to research them all one-by-one. This journey I started down would come to be a deeply enriching one.

I already had a decent understanding of some of those belief systems, but others required a lot more research. The very structure of the quiz I had taken and retaken offered me my first pointed insights into what belief really means and how to ask those kinds of questions for myself, regardless of belief system.

With an open mind I tried new things. I followed new YouTube channels and learned a great deal about ethics, philosophy, theology, history, textual analysis, critical thinking, debate etiquette, demographics, and art. I watched balanced content from contemporary atheists and theists. I started journaling for the first time in six years. I went out of my way to get a new library card and check out books to help me in my studies. I participated in activities related to some of these belief systems which I had never done before. And there's still so much to learn.

A Surprising Turn

The belief system I found the most rewarding in my personal explorations was, surprisingly, Judaism. Out of all six belief systems I set out to explore, I knew the least about Judaism. As I learned more I came to realize that there's also significant overlap between my own values and those found within Reform Judaism, in particular those of tikkun olam (Gives the most basic, uninspired example).

Last November, I had come to the point in my research where I wanted to speak with a rabbi about Judaism in general. I emailed two Reform rabbis from two different synagogues to get their perspectives on things. I don't know how I managed to write those emails but they responded in kind.

My first talk with a rabbi was over the phone and more personal. How personable they were was a surreal experience. They encouraged me to continue exploring things, find what interests me most in the faith, attend local services and events, and take Intro to Judaism classes. They were in the early stages of preparing for a Friday evening service so the call only lasted around 30 minutes, but I thank them for taking the time to hear me out.

My talk with the second rabbi was over a scheduled Zoom call. They were more thorough with my background and went into the specifics of conversion a lot more. They encouraged me to continue exploring things, focus on personal practice over research, connect with my local community, take Intro to Judaism classes online, and to take things slow. However, given I wasn't ready to pursue conversion, it left me feeling like I'd wasted their time.

I never did get my questions answered, but then again I didn't even know what kinds of questions to ask.

Sometime this past January I downloaded the Sefaria app on my phone and started reading Ecclesiastes, the first book of the Tanakh I'd ever read to completion. I took my time and read it when I had the free time and interest to. The story was quite a compelling and relatable piece. I later read the entirety of Malachi and Haggai, among the shortest books in the Tanakh and something my ADHD could handle. They were also intriguing reads.

Where I Am Today

If there is a higher power, they're probably limited by the laws of nature just like we are. However, the existence of a higher power isn't something that's falsifiable or even capable of being proven through the scientific method.

If you know something to be true then you can't have faith in it, and if you have faith in something you're admitting that you don't know it to be true. You are therefore taking "faith" in the claim. At that point, you can just deny that a believer has sufficient justification for their belief. But on what grounds could you make that claim? (Solipsism enters the chat)

A belief about the world is the mental attitude that the world is structured in some way rather than another. Beliefs form the foundation of actions. If you believe something to be true, you must act as though it were true. If you can't believe something is true then you can't say you believe it. And the more important the belief, the more open one should be to having that belief examined, questioned, and challenged.

While I believe moral values to be subjective, I do feel there's something intuitive in the way we work together as a social species. How we show compassion toward one another and work toward creating a better world, not just for ourselves, but for future generations as well. And not just in a way limited to the human species either. We're all interconnected. We're all an impermanent part of this speck of dust circling a middle aged star in a remote corner of the galaxy. We ought to make things work and our short time here meaningful.

So are you an atheist or a theist?

I currently identify as agnostic.

Agnosticism is a notoriously difficult thing to define, but the most helpful way I've seen it explained is as a spectrum of confidence in one's belief, which was first posited by George H. Smith in his 1974 novel Atheism: The Case Against God.

Gnostic Atheism: one who asserts that "at least one deity exists" is a false statement.

Agnostic Atheism: one who rejects belief that any deities exist without actually asserting that "at least one deity exists" is a false statement.

Agnostic Theism: one who accepts belief that a deity exists without actually asserting that "at least one deity exists" is a true statement.

Gnostic Theism: one who asserts that "at least one deity exists" is a true statement.

Whichever way I lean in the moment, whether it's toward theism or atheism, I hold less confidence than a gnostic atheist or gnostic theist would. I don't think we can ever know with confidence one way or the other, so I prefer not to choose a side in the theism vs atheism debate. I'm still trying to "find my truth".

Closing Thoughts 💭

I wracked my brain for a week straight over how best to get my thoughts on the matter on paper the screen. I think I spent way too much time on this post but I know that it was important for me, in this moment, to do so. It probably wasn't the most satisfying conclusion but it's an honest one.

I'm not entirely sure why I've embarked on this journey, but clearly it's important to me. Maybe I'm searching for something I'm lacking in my life, be it spiritual meaning or community. Maybe it's all for the sake of learning new things on a topic I've always been interested in. This kind of thing is quite personal and I can only articulate so much.

I'm hesitant to list any primary or secondary resources about any of the topics mentioned above for risk of coming across as a proselytizer. Do your own research and think critically.

As someone who has spent time exploring Judaism, I just know I'm gonna be asked a question about the Israel–Palestine conflict. I'm not gonna allow comments about that on this post.

#belief #spirituality #agnosticism #atheism #Judaism #religious exploration

[mahal-mo-ko]

colorism; a study on skin-color discrimination

oh boy... this is a tough one.

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what is colorism?

colorism is the discrimination that is based on skin color, when one favors lighter skin over darker skin, regardless of the racial or ethnic background of the person in question.

is it the same as racism?

no. while it does have relations to it, colorism is discrimination based on the skin tone while racism is discrimination on the actual/perceived race of a person. anyone can experience colorism regardless of their race.

the connection between racism and colorism

colorism is a product of racism. because of racism, one's value and the way they are treated, regardless of their race, is based off of their skin color. a very good example of colorism is the old children's nursery rhyme that goes:

"if you're black, stay back / if you're brown, stick around / if you're yellow, you’re mellow / if you’re white, you're alright"

history of colorism

colorism first came about when slavery was practiced. dark skinned slaves do the dirty work outside while light skinned ones would work less taxing work. there was also the paperbag test made by the upper-class black people where they would hold a brown paper bag against one's skin and if they were lighter than it, they were deemed "respectable".

how colorism affects the modern century

just like racism, colorism is still practiced today. crazy, right? skin-lightening products are often advertised with light-skinned models posing with the beauty product, showing them glorified and extremely delighted by it's results. there is the study on wage gaps based on colorism. they show that the wages decrease significantly the darker the skin tone of the employee is and so much more.

bridgerton spoilers coming up here, skip if you want to watch the show !

to understand colorism a bit better, there is an article by magda erockfor ayuk where they discuss the colorism practiced in netflix's hit period drama, everyone's favorite; bridgerton.

https://medium.com/fearless-she-wrote/here-we-go-again-colorism-in-bridgerton-80c89109f31d

in this article, one of their points is about will mondrich, the professional boxer. he is depicted as strong and a powerful opponent in the ring. "I couldn’t help but think of the stereotype of the dark-skinned man who is immune to pain and abnormally strong as Will pummeled the Duke." they say next.

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in making this post, i would like to to thank my family for raising me with racist and colorist values. i am proud to say that i have grown out of those ideals and i love my skin despite having internalized colorism hah-

friendly reminder that this does not cover everything about colorism, especially on the history part. theres more than just that.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

one chance to change your fate - chapter 10

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas, Nico Flores, Dragon Witch (villain), background OCs Rating: Teen & up (see Warnings) Relationships: Loceit, eventual Dukexiety, Royality, background Karrot Kings Warnings: Language; kind of a lot of sexual innuendo/references this time around; slight partial nudity (a half open shirt + someone touching the exposed rib area); miscommunication as a plot device Word count: 6117 Notes: a big big thank you to my awesome beta @yougoodfahm!

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

start - previous - here - next - masterpost

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reminder that janus’s pronouns are ONLY they/them in this fic! do not misgender them please!

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Chapter 10

“This way,” Logan said, taking a left turn. 

“Wh—no?” Janus followed him anyway, looking back over their shoulder at the right-hand passageway that led to the records area. “Why?” 

“I need my staff,” Logan explained, shrugging. 

Janus stopped walking. “That old thing? Really? Really?” 

Logan took a long, measured breath. “Complex magic requires a higher degree of control to successfully and safely execute,” he explained, for what felt like at least the thousandth time.

Janus huffed, unimpressed, and pouted at him. “I don’t see how a glorified hunk of tree helps with any of that, is all I’m saying.”

“And yet, it does.” Logan clapped his hands together briskly. “Come along, dear. I would like to complete this horrible and distressing objective as quickly as possible.”

Janus crossed their arms. “Logan, the staff is taller than you.” 

Logan closed his eyes for a moment. “Your point?” 

Janus flung their hands in the air. “You keep it in storage!” 

“Yes, for safety. And?” 

“How does something that clumsy and apparently dangerous afford you a higher degree of fine control?” 

“It’s magic, dear, not the physical realm. It’s entirely different.” 

“How?” Janus demanded. 

Logan paused. “It just… is. I’m… not quite sure how to explain it.” He stared at the ceiling for a moment, brows furrowed, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Magic is like… a… river. Sort of.” He grimaced. The metaphor was inelegant at best. “Not exactly. But having a tool external to my own body is often deeply instrumental in allowing myself control over both how I direct the magic’s flow and my own interaction with it.” 

Janus gave him another unimpressed pout. “That does not make more sense.” 

Logan sighed. “Do you or do you not want me to assist you in this far-fetched escapade?” 

“Fine, fine, we can get the staff,” Janus said, giving in far faster than Logan had expected—though perhaps he should not be surprised; this forgery was supposedly for Patton’s benefit, and Logan knew how important Janus’s brother was to them. “I’m just saying, it makes no sense.” 

“This is how you react every time I try to explain magic to you, dear,” Logan said patiently. 

“Because it’s annoying and confusing and makes no sense,” Janus retorted, still pouting. 

Logan ignored the pout to the best of his ability. “It takes a minimum of five years to be certified as a magic practitioner for a reason, Janus. But I assure you that with a little study, you or anyone could easily—”

“No, no, that’s too much work.” Janus waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll just complain about it instead.” 

Logan frowned. “That is highly irrational, my love.” 

Janus grinned and blew him a kiss. “I know,” they said sweetly. 

Logan rubbed his temples and sighed. “Very well.” He adjusted his spectacles and offered Janus his arm, which they took. 

“I’m just saying—” Janus began after a few seconds. 

“Oh, dear lord,” Logan mumbled in exasperation, and the pair continued to bicker all the way to the storage space reserved for magical items and supplies belonging to the various inhabitants of the palace. It was, in all fairness, an entertaining way to pass the time. 

Logan pulled out his key, letting himself in and leaving Janus, who was not authorized to access the room, in the hall outside. The door and the paneling on the walls inside, as well as the individual cases each item here was kept in, were all made of well-polished pine wood, which served as an excellent insulator for magic—its mere presence in the room was a simple yet effective safety measure in case of any accidents. Logan’s staff was in a long, thin pine box on the innermost wall. He opened this with another key and lifted it out with care, the deeply ridged texture of its dark wood providing some measure of comfort in his hand. 

Heart in his throat at the idea of being caught—though he had every right to access this room and came here most weeks, regularly enough that he could not imagine his visit seeming suspicious to anyone—Logan scrawled his signature on the records book, noting the item he retrieved, the date, and writing sleeping draughts in the box where a reason for item use could be recorded. This was technically not incorrect; while sleeping draughts were simple enough that he could make them without utilizing his staff if he so wished, the process by which he would seal the bottles later that evening would be easier with the staff at hand. He was not constructing a falsehood; he was simply… omitting a detail. A very large, illegal detail that would be enough to land both himself and Janus in the dungeon for an extensive length of time, should it ever come to light. A detail that made his hands shake as he returned the quill pen to its ink pot and set the log book down in its place. 

…It was none of their business anyway. 

Logan turned away and left the room, staff in hand; Janus looked over, perking up visibly at his return. Logan smiled a little and offered them his free arm once more. “Shall we, my dear?” he asked, and was proud of the way his voice did not waver. 

Janus gave him a dazzling smile back as they linked their arm through his. “Indeed,” they said, in a smug tone that was very likely meant to tease him over his overly formal wording. 

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head, leading the way down the hall. “Do you have a route in mind?” he asked in an undertone once he was certain no one else was in earshot. 

“I mean.” Janus shrugged. “There aren’t that many ways into the records room. I was imagining we’d just walk right in.” 

“What?” Logan’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat several times before continuing. “Why?” 

Janus blinked and shrugged a shoulder. “Less suspicious. We could be there for perfectly legitimate reasons if anyone sees us. Getting seen taking the secret passage in is much harder to explain away.” 

Logan frowned. Their logic was sound, but he did not like it. 

“Oh, cheer up,” Janus said airily, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “We have both been perfectly model citizens up to this point.” They paused and wrinkled their nose. “Well. Except for a few things on my part. But that’s not important,” they went on quickly, waving their hand. “My point is, nobody’s going to see us walking about and assume we’re doing something horrible. Do calm down, you’re so tense it’s like I’m holding hands with a block of wood.” They sniffed. “Not an appealing prospect.” 

Logan sighed. “I will do my best, dear,” he said. 

Nevertheless, Logan remained tense as they approached the suite of rooms in which palace records were kept. They were allowed to access most of these rooms, of course; Logan and Janus had very nearly the highest level of security clearance in the kingdom. Logan had been here a few times, to look things up or double-check that his own knowledge was correct on various subjects. Even so, it felt different this time as he and Janus came to a halt outside the wide double doors that marked the entry into the record suite. 

“And why are you visiting the palace records today?” the guard seated outside inquired in a bored voice, hardly raising their head from the book it was bent over. 

“Marriage planning,” Janus said without hesitation. 

Logan choked on air. 

“Thank you, have a nice day,” the guard said in a monotone, waving them through the door. 

“Why did you say that?” Logan asked in a frantic whisper as he and Janus made their way through the first room in the suite. 

Janus frowned, tensing up just slightly. “What did you want me to do, tell him the truth?” 

“No—I meant—why that?” Had it been some kind of joke? Or had Janus been serious? Why had that been the explanation they’d given? The pair of them had never discussed marriage before—never even broached the subject. Perhaps, in his most private thoughts, Logan might have considered—or, well—daydreamed—at length—about such a thing, but… marriage carried such a weight to it; it was only for when you were absolutely certain about spending your life together with someone. Logan knew, without a doubt, what his answer would be, but, if he was being honest with himself, he was… rather afraid to bring the idea up to Janus. They were so close with their family, and it was traditional to only move out of your parents’ home when you married. Logan wasn’t sure he wanted to ask that of them. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they’d say. 

Janus’s mouth tightened. “I don’t know,” they snapped. “Forget about it. I—I meant the twins’ upcoming problem, anyway.” They pulled away from him and strode ahead, back straight. 

Logan blinked, trying to make sense of Janus’s reaction, then followed. Had they mistaken his meaning? Had he mistaken theirs? “Janus—Janus!” He caught up with them at the door to the innermost room of the suite, the one that would hold the records they were after. “I didn’t—”

“The door is locked,” Janus interrupted in a brittle, cheery tone, not meeting his eyes. “Can you take care of it?” 

Logan bit his lip, not liking the change of subject—but the longer they stayed here, the more chance they had to be caught. Efficiency was key at this moment, which had suddenly become perhaps the most inconvenient time possible to have to put off a serious conversation. He swallowed and pushed down his distress and his desire to plead with Janus to tell him what was wrong, pushed them down and crumpled them up small until he could almost pretend it was fine. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Give me a minute.” He adjusted his grip on his staff and glanced around the room; the suite had been empty so far, but still…. “First I’m going to set up a—mm, essentially a magical tripwire. To let us know if anyone is coming.” 

Janus watched as Logan traced several runes on the floor in a circle, each one turning into glowing light as he completed it, then tapped his staff in the center; the runes, obeying his command, shot out in different directions along the floor and faded from view. The tripwire was set. Logan nodded to himself and looked up. “Alright. Show me the door.” 

The lock looked fairly simple, even though it was strengthened with magic; Logan saw no hint of the kinds of spells he would genuinely worry about, the kind that would retain evidence of tampering. He would, of course, need to be careful when undoing the spell on the lock so that he could reassemble it as they left, but it was perfectly doable. 

“I can get us in,” he assured Janus, looking up from the lock. “It’ll take a few moments, though.” 

“Get on with it, then,” Janus said, arms crossed and fingers drumming where they rested. They did not meet his eyes. 

Logan frowned. He reached out and rested his hand on theirs, curling his fingers around their own. “Dearest—” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Logan,” Janus said insistently, lacing their fingers through his. “And now is hardly the time, anyway.” 

Logan nodded, though he was not happy with this. “Very well.” He squeezed their hand once and let go, hefting his staff and eyeing the lock once more. A spell of undoing, a more powerful one… yes. Yes, that should suffice. Incantation ready in his mind, he lifted the staff and touched the end of it to the doorknob—

“Logan,” Janus said, speaking in an urgent whisper. “Logan. Logan, is this bad?” 

Logan looked at where they were pointing. One of the runes he’d set up only moments before had returned and was sitting at his feet, glowing red. The wire had been tripped.

“Ah. Yes.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened his cravat. “Shit.” 

“Someone’s coming?” Janus said. 

Logan nodded in confirmation, tapping out a pattern on the floor that wiped away the tripwire spell. “We need to look busy. Find something to read through and we’ll wait them out.” 

“No, I have a better idea.” Janus rolled their eyes, mouth pinching tightly. “Since you apparently hated my marriage cover story so much.” 

“Wh—” Logan blinked, taken aback. “No, I—” 

“It’s fine,” Janus interrupted, almost before Logan even began talking. “I said I don’t want to talk about it. Just—” They glanced around the room. “—Here.” They dragged him over to a desk set against the wall, which they sat on, guiding him to stand before them, their knees resting lightly on either side of his thighs. “Kiss me.” 

“…Dearest, is this really the best—?” Logan began. 

“Yes. Don’t argue.” Janus yanked open the first three buttons of their shirt, revealing their collarbones and lacy bralette. They reached their hands up to cradle Logan’s face, and pulled him in, breathing, “Make it look good,” right before they closed their eyes and pressed their open mouth to his. 

Kissing Janus was almost more instinct than conscious action. Logan guided them to lean their head back just a little more until they were at the angle he most liked, their mouth soft and warm and melding perfectly against his. He slid a hand to the small of their back, his other hand dipping just past the unbuttoned portion of their shirt to let his fingertips barely brush their skin and some of the larger scales on their lower ribs. 

Janus broke the kiss with something halfway between a gasp and a whimper at his touch, clutching at his shoulders. Logan took the opportunity to trail kisses down their throat, relishing in the breathy noises of encouragement Janus made as they tipped their head back. He pressed a final kiss, slow and lingering, at the dip between their collarbones, then nipped lightly at the delicate skin of their throat. 

“Fuck,” Janus gasped, their long fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders. 

“Hmm, not now,” Logan murmured against their skin, pressing a kiss to a patch of scales and rubbing his thumb in little circles on their side where his hand still rested. 

Janus made a whining noise that Logan could tell was half there to stifle a laugh. “Logan,” they said, in that particular pretty pleading tone that he liked very much, and he raised his head to look at them. 

Their cheeks were flushed and their snake pupil was wide and round, their lips parted, and they were looking at him like he was the only thing worth looking at in the world, and what else was he supposed to do but cup the back of their neck in his hand and draw them in for another deep kiss? 

Janus sighed into his mouth, their hands fisting in his jacket lapels, sliding even closer so that the pair of them were pressed all the way together, kissing him greedily, their mouth so warm and perfectly fitted against his, like they were made just for him to kiss, and Logan thought that he would be perfectly happy if he could simply hold them forever, and—

The door behind them opened, and though Logan had been expecting it, he had managed to get quite thoroughly distracted in the last minute or so; he started and whirled to face the door. 

The face that greeted him was… quite possibly the worst possible person who could have walked in just at this moment. 

“High Advisor Dragov,” he greeted the Dragon Witch breathlessly, face burning hot, stepping in front of Janus to shield them as they languidly began doing up their buttons. “I—I apologize, I thought—we were—you see—I—” He stammered out a few more incoherent sounds before stumbling to a stop. 

The Dragon Witch only waited with a single raised eyebrow, hands clasped in front of himself, until Logan was silent. “I understand perfectly, Sir Croft,” he said with the barest touch of condescension. His eyes traveled to just over Logan’s shoulder. “Lairde Dufour.” 

Janus didn’t bother to answer, instead sliding one hand along Logan’s shoulder and down his chest until they could wrap his cravat about their fingers and tug. “Let’s go somewhere else,” they said, in a soft, sultry voice that was entirely inappropriate for the present moment, leaning so close to Logan that their lips brushed his cheek as they spoke. 

A small part of Logan’s brain was perfectly aware that, logically, Janus’s behavior was helpful and part of the whole not-getting-caught-committing-fraud thing; the larger part of his brain had frozen up at getting walked in on and was having difficulty remembering that this was all an act. He swallowed and blinked several times. “Right. Yes. Apologies once again,” he said to the Dragon Witch, speaking more formally than he strictly had to given his own status. “If you’ll excuse us.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of taking up any more of your valuable time,” the Dragon Witch murmured with a smile that was more than a touch mocking. Logan resisted the urge to hide his face in his hands. 

“Right,” Logan said once more, offering Janus his hand and helping them down from the desk. He hesitated, but Janus began tugging him towards the door that led out of the suite. Secret passage it was, then. Logan followed in their steps, glad that this encounter hadn’t dragged on— 

“Sir Croft,” the Dragon Witch said, his tone so calm it bordered on smug, just as Janus put their hand on the doorknob. 

Logan froze. “Sir?” He turned back to face the other man. His stomach dropped. 

“I believe this is yours,” the Dragon Witch said, holding out Logan’s staff. 

Logan stared at the staff and pretended his heart was not thundering in his ears. He’d leaned it against the wall when Janus had asked him to kiss them and had completely forgotten it. Its presence had to be suspicious. “Thank you,” he managed, doing his best to keep his voice level. His face was prickling with an entirely different kind of uncomfortable heat than that of a moment ago; this one was more guilty than embarrassed. He moved forward and reached to accept the staff. 

But the Dragon Witch did not let go of the other end of it. “I was not aware you carried this about your daily tasks,” he said, his voice buttery smooth and dangerous. 

“I—well, you see—” Logan hesitated, mind scrambling for words that would not incriminate himself. 

“I asked him to bring it,” Janus said, leaning on the doorframe, their eyes wide and a little too innocent and one finger absently playing with their bottom lip. “I… like it when he does magic.” The sentence was vividly infused with a very particular sort of meaning, and it took every ounce of Logan’s will to maintain his composure and not simply melt through the floor in mortification at this idea being presented to the Dragon Witch. 

The man in question blinked, processing what Janus had just implied. He clearly realized after a few seconds—his face took on a strained look, though he hid it well. “Ah. How… fascinating.” He relinquished his hold on the staff and stepped back. 

“I—yes,” Logan managed, strangled. “That—is why. Good day.” He hastened back across the room to Janus and led them, at the fastest speed he felt was acceptable, in the other direction. 

***

“Why did you say that?” Logan demanded once again as he and Janus walked down the hall away from the records suite. 

Janus ignored the clench in their chest at the still-fresh memory of how horribly upset he’d seemed by them bringing up marriage—time to repress all their disappointment and avoid that topic forever, they supposed—and blinked at him. Had the answer to his question not been obvious this time? “…So that we wouldn’t get arrested?” 

“Now the High Advisor thinks you have a—a, I don’t even know, a, a magic kink?” Logan said, his voice higher with distress than Janus had heard it go in years. 

Janus shrugged. “Yes, what about it?” 

“I—” Logan froze, mouth open. “Wait, what?” 

Janus just looked at him. “Take two seconds to think about the everything about me and then see if you still need to ask me to elaborate.” 

There was a pause. 

“Oh,” Logan said, slightly strangled. “I see.” 

Janus stifled a laugh. “Anyway, it got him to shut up and stop asking questions, didn’t it?” 

“I—that is not the point!” Logan ran his hands over his curls, clutching at them desperately. “Oh, no, he—he thinks we have sex—” 

Janus squinted at him. “Sorry, what the fuck have we been doing every night for the last two years?”

“But he doesn’t know about that!” Logan said after what looked like a very frustrated pause. “He—we—I don’t know!” 

Janus hesitated. “Are you alright?” they asked, feeling a horrible clench of guilt in their stomach. Had they pushed too far, back in the records room? They hadn’t stopped to think before telling him to kiss them, acting on impulse and almost desperation. They had been full of a selfish, frightened need to be reassured that he still wanted and loved them, even if he clearly didn’t want to marry them after how upset he’d seemed at the idea. The sting of that new knowledge, and the desire to distract themself from it by any means possible, had made it so easy to ignore all their more rational decision-making abilities in the moment. 

If Logan was upset with them, Janus felt suddenly certain that they’d deserve it. 

Logan dragged his hands down his face. “I—I am not certain exactly what is so distressing to me.” There was a pause. “But I think it is about him, not you,” he added, making Janus’s shoulders relax. “I… did not enjoy his reaction to us.” 

He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t upset! At least not with them, and he’d kissed them just the same as he ever did, and Janus was so relieved it was a little ridiculous. Admittedly, they still felt like crying over the knowledge that he didn’t want to marry them, but it was fine. It was fine. He still wanted them. He just didn’t want to marry them. But plenty of people never got married to their partners, anyway. Janus could make do with being a partner and never a spouse. They were still Logan’s. That was what mattered. Not the disappointment. They knew how to deal with disappointment: laugh and say something clever to distract everyone around you from how you felt, and then change the subject and never think about it again. They cast about for a topic to do just that with—Logan had said something about how the Dragon Witch had reacted, hadn’t he?

“Well, I suppose now he has something more interesting to think about than a shriveled-up mushroom like him has probably ever had in his life before,” Janus said lightly. “Logan, I’m sure he couldn’t care less what either of us does in our free time. Come on, let’s go finish the job.” 

Logan huffed, following them out of the archives and down the hall in the direction of the secret passage. “You are probably correct,” he admitted after a moment, “but I don’t like it.” 

“Oh, I do like when you tell me I’m right about things,” Janus said, grinning mischievously and swooping down to peck him on the lips. “You should do it more often,” they murmured as they pulled away and straightened back up. 

Logan rolled his eyes, but did not hide his smile. “You are incorrigible.” 

“Yes, I make sure of it,” Janus said lightly, letting go of his hand and running their hand along the carved flowers on the wall, in search of the entrance to the secret passageway. 

“It’s the cornflower, dearest,” Logan said. “Third one from the top and second to the right of the window.” 

“I knew that,” Janus lied brazenly, pressing the center of the flower. A doorway, previously hidden, slid ajar.

“No, you did not.” Logan offered them his hand once again. 

Janus took it and followed him into the secret passage. “No, I did not.” 

Once the door was securely closed, Logan and Janus made their way down the passage in relative silence, Janus running their thumb along the back of Logan’s hand in an effort to soothe… well, honestly, they weren’t sure which of them. 

As they neared the innermost records chamber, they both fell into near-total silence, until they came to a stop just inside the door. 

Is he there? Logan mouthed. 

Janus peered through the tiny hidden peephole, moving awkwardly back and forth to see from all angles until they had looked about the whole room. “No,” they whispered. “Or at least, not in this room.” 

Logan nodded and murmured a spell under his breath; a blue glow emanated from the bottom of his staff, pulsing outward. He closed his eyes, wrapping both hands around the staff. After a moment he opened them. “He’s not in the near vicinity, either,” he whispered. “Let’s get this over with.” He paused as he noticed Janus staring at him incredulously. “What?”

“Why did you make me do all that work looking for, if you could just do that in the first place?” Janus demanded.

“Well, it may have escaped your notice, but I don’t want to be here ‘in the first place,’” Logan said drily. “If you’re so determined to commit the highest level of crime that there is in the kingdom, you can at least participate.” 

Janus considered this and came to the conclusion that there was not a good way for them to win here. Instead of trying, they just huffed and rolled their eyes and lifted the latch on the door. They pushed it open just far enough for themself and then Logan to slide through, then picked up a book off the nearest shelf and used it to stop the passage door from falling shut, in case they needed to leave with haste. 

Logan moved to a shelf on the left-hand wall, one filled with scrolls and loose parchments instead of books. He was running his finger along them, moving efficiently, as if he already understood what he was looking at and where to find what he sought. Knowing Logan, he probably did. 

Sure enough, after only a few moments, he let out a soft exclamation of triumph. “Ah! Here it is,” he murmured, drawing out a scroll and bringing it over to the large desk in the center of the room. He unrolled it and spread it out on the surface. “The list of approved competitors.” He ran his fingers down the parchment, closing his eyes. “It’s not even charmed,” he announced, opening them. “This will be easy.” 

“Good,” Janus said, eyeing the locked door on the other side of the room. Who knew if the Dragon Witch had finished his business here, or if he’d be back? 

Logan hummed, tracing a shape in the air; a glowing rune materialized. He plucked it out of midair with his fingers and dropped it onto one of the quills on the corner of the desk. 

The quill lifted itself into the air obligingly and dipped itself in an inkwell. Logan, meanwhile, was running his fingers along the list once again, murmuring spellwords under his breath. Janus watched in fascination as several of the names at the end of the list crept downwards, until a space in the middle had materialized, a single line with no name upon it. 

With a snap of Logan’s fingers, the quill descended upon the empty spot. “Remind me of your brother’s full name, dearest?” he asked in a low voice. 

“Put it down as Lord Patton Peter Dufour,” Janus replied at once. Thank the stars that Pop and Patton had changed their last name when Dad and Pop had gotten married, honestly; it had made this whole fraud ordeal today so much less of a headache for Janus than it could have been. 

Logan nodded and the quill lowered itself to the paper, perfectly matching the fine spidery scrawl the rest of the list was written in. Once Patton’s name was down, Logan returned the quill to its place and began tracing more runes in the air. 

“What are you doing?” Janus asked. 

“Aging the new ink on the parchment so it matches the rest of the list,” Logan replied, scattering the runes across Patton’s name on the parchment with an expert hand and examining the parchment critically as the runes melted into it and faded away. Janus could hardly tell the difference, but Logan seemed satisfied. 

“There,” he said solemnly, setting his shoulders. “It is done.” 

Janus nodded. They reached over and took his hand. “Thank you,” they said, trying desperately to fit all the emotion they felt into the words. He hadn’t liked it, not at all, but he had done it for their sake, and now Patton would be safe, and Janus was so relieved they could cry. 

The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched in something that was not quite a smile. “You are welcome, dearest.” He picked up the parchment and made as if to roll it up, then noticed something on the desk. “Oh, goodness.” 

“What?” Janus asked, tensing up. 

“Nothing bad,” he assured them. He set down the list of invitees and picked up a different parchment. “Just—look at this.” He displayed it to them. 

Janus glanced it over. “…Is that the marriage law that got the twins into this whole mess?” 

Logan nodded. “Unfortunate, yes. But look.” He pointed to the lower right corner of the parchment just as Janus processed the particular excited tone he was using, and that this probably had nothing to do with Patton and everything to do with Logan’s love of random, boring facts. 

They obediently looked. “That is… the seal of the kingdom of Flores, yes,” they agreed politely, trying hard not to sound exasperated. Was this really the time? 

“No—no no—I mean, yes, but just look at—well, of course, you won’t be able to see it, I suppose, it’s a very complex spell, well hidden. But there’s a second seal on top of the physical one—a magic one, very high-level stuff, too,” Logan explained, sounding deeply enthused. “It provides an extra layer of protection. It’s standard practice for serious legal documents such as this one, nowadays.” 

Janus blinked slowly at him. “Your point being?” 

“Look at the date!” Logan tapped the top of the parchment; Janus vaguely registered that the year was over two centuries ago. “If my math is right, this must be one of the very first laws ever to carry a magic seal! Isn’t that amazing?” 

Janus gritted their teeth. “Yes, darling, terribly fascinating. Can we go now?” 

“Oh. Oh! Yes, let’s do so.” Logan set down the law where he had found it and picked up his staff. He traced some shapes on its side and it emitted a single pulse of light, which emanated outward to the very edges of the room and vanished. 

“What was that?” Janus asked. 

“It will remove all physical traces of our having been here as we leave,” Logan explained. “Fingerprints, stray hairs, things like that.” He picked up the parchment with the list of contestants, rolled it up into a scroll once more, and tied the ribbon that held it shut into a neat bow. 

As Logan went back to the shelf the scroll belonged on, Janus moved to the passage door, replacing the book that had served as a makeshift doorstop on the shelf and waiting just inside the passage, holding it open for Logan. 

“It goes just—ah, here,” Logan murmured, setting the scroll in its place on the shelf, and then stiffened, head turning towards the other door. “Janus,” he said, voice dropping to an urgent whisper. 

Janus heard it a second later—voices outside the room, and the knob of the door turning. Logan was bolt-stiff, staring at them with a terrified look on his face, and Janus was sure they weren’t much better. Part of them—an uncomfortably large part—screamed to close the passage door and run, to save themself while they had the chance. 

Janus ignored it. Not without Logan. 

The door opened. 

Janus locked eyes with King Thomas.

Their blood went icy cold in their veins; they barely even registered that the King wasn’t even the one who had opened the door—the Dragon Witch had, though he was looking back at the King and speaking to him and hadn’t seen Janus yet. 

Janus abruptly felt like throwing up. 

They’d thought they understood the risks of what they were undertaking. They’d thought they could handle it all for Patton. But they realized, heart beating loud in their ears as they watched the confusion register on the King’s face, that they would rather be caught by quite literally anyone else than him. Anyone other than the first person outside their family to give them even half a chance to prove themself. The person who’d overseen the selection of the finest cursebreaker in the kingdom to treat Janus and Dad and then funded an entire government program to make sure nothing like what they’d been through would happen to anyone again. The person who’d handed care of his son over to them with full trust that they would do their job well and cause Roman no harm. The first person who’d shown Janus kindness and trust when he had no incentive to do so. 

Janus had understood that they were breaking the law, but it hadn’t felt real. It had all been a game, a way to prove to themself how clever they were, and if they just figured out the right way to push the puzzle pieces around, they would win—the object being to secure their brother’s happiness, no matter the cost. 

Staring at King Thomas, the label traitor to the Crown suddenly felt a lot more real. 

The King met Janus’s eyes for what felt like a torturous eternity but was actually less than a second. Now Janus had done it. Now King Thomas would see that he should never have trusted them in the first place. Now he would hate them and call the guards in to seize them and he would personally fire them and exile them from the kingdom, if not worse. Now—

King Thomas gave Janus a half smile. Janus’s brain turned to bewildered soup. 

“Oh, Dragov,” the King said, putting a hand on the Dragon Witch’s shoulder just as the man began to turn in Janus’s direction, pulling him back so he wouldn’t see them. “I nearly forgot—would you mind grabbing a book on those, what d’you call them, you know, the more antiquated gender systems? I’ve heard some of the areas we sent invitations to are… oh, let’s call them a little traditional, it’s probably the kindest way to phrase it. I want to read up on that a bit so we can try and anticipate any likely areas where miscommunication might happen, so we can minimize that for everybody.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the Dragon Witch said, sounding only a little confused by the sudden request. He stepped away from the door and a second later was out of Janus’s sight. 

King Thomas looked back at Janus, still frozen in the passageway. He glanced from them to Logan on the other side of the room, winked at them, and then turned his back. 

Janus stared at him for a second more, hardly processing what had just happened at all—then they jumped into action, hastily beckoning Logan, who was already making his way towards them, shock nearly as evident on his face as it must be on Janus’s. Janus slid the passage door shut behind Logan, latched it, and followed him at a fairly breakneck speed down the passageway, their heart pounding in their ears and their hands shaking. 

They’d done it. They’d done it all and gotten away with it. Patton was safe, and he and Roman had a chance now. Somehow, King Thomas had even trusted them enough to let them get away with whatever he thought they were doing. Everything had gone perfectly. 

So why did they feel so nauseous, and why were they shaking so badly, and why were hot tears threatening to run down their cheeks? 

(They knew why. It was because King Thomas had always trusted them, and now, more than ever, they were sure that he shouldn’t.)

-

reminder that janus’s pronouns are ONLY they/them in this fic! do not misgender them please!

-

taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @theimprobabledreamersworld @the-sympathetic-villain @crazydemigod666 @nightweirdo @emoprincey (technically u are not on this taglist rn but ik you’ve been waiting for this chapter lol)

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #loceit #janus sanders #ts janus #logan sanders #ts logan #ts fanfic #ts fic #fanfic #fanfiction #one chance to change your fate #peregrin writes #nonbinary janus #language #Innuendo

[gothhisoka]

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 (𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖝 𝕱𝖊𝖒𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

Title: Worship

Pairing: Chrollo x Femreader

Warnings: Smut, minors DNI, 18+, explicit content

Word Count: 3116 (I promise it is worth it. Oh god is it worth it)

Note: This is from my cross-published fanfic called Hunter University! It is available if you click here on Wattpad and AO3. My fanfic is x OC, but I upload x Reader versions of some chapters here on Tumblr. In short, it is a dark academia college AU with Chrollo as the main love interest.

Background: You are an artist in college and Chrollo is your fellow classmate. You just returned from a night out at a ball, drunk. Chrollo appeared at the door to your dorm room as he promised he would after you danced with one another at the ball.

Chrollo was surprised you looked so intact. He was sure you would come waddling to the door in pajamas as you did the last time he visited your room. Although it had been an hour since the ball ended, your makeup hadn't smudged a bit. Sure, it was faded, and your hair was significantly messier, but overall you looked as remarkable as you did at the start of the ball.

Your tired eyes widened with surprise at the sight of him. He was just as unimpaired as you were. Though now he was missing his suit jacket. His hair had become slightly disheveled, losing its styled waves. He still had on those signature silver rings and little cross earrings.

You attempt to soak in his sight with your intoxicated brain. He looked even more captivating in this particular state.

“Hi…” was all you could utter.

“Can I come in?”

You realized he was waiting for your permission. He didn’t need it.

You stepped aside to let him in and shut the door. Your room was the same as the last time he saw it, with your drawings hung on the walls and lights strung above the desk. Their small bulbs reflected against the night-stained window.

Upon shutting the door, the tension noticeably rose. It was dark in the small space and you were alone. Chrollo took his black dress shoes off near the door, placing them neatly side by side.

So he plans on staying. You tried to hide a smile. The hour of his visit was surely suspicious. There could be only one thing on his mind.

"So what're you doing here?" you spoke nonchalantly, acting like you didn't just fantasize about what could happen in the next few minutes.

Chrollo opened and shut his mouth, his response escaping him. He turned back to you and used his eyes to convey a craving far deeper than any words could admit.

"I said I would come to find you, didn't I?" He said lowly.

He had begun to walk around the room, absentmindedly stopping at a piece of art from time to time. You were too tired to care. The collection included nature scenes, portraits of people he didn't recognize, anatomy studies, and...

He paused, noticing a drawing on the wall behind the place where the door would otherwise be covering.

It was a full-body anatomy study of yourself. To be specific, it would fit further in the category of a glorified nude. It was on a miniature piece of parchment sketched in charcoal. It was obviously you: the woman had your (hair color) hair and distinct mouth and nose. The paper was hardly noticeable amongst the scatter of papers. You wouldn't see it unless you had a careful eye such as that of Chrollo.

You hardly noticed when he reached the particular spot on your wall. Your tiredness had waned significantly with Chrollo's entrance, but it still fogged your mind.

Additionally, you had long forgotten about your secret behind-the-door location for your drawings that were not meant to be seen by a single soul.

Chrollo attempted to hide a mysterious smile. He turned to you, “You draw wonderfully.”

“Thanks?” you reply, with more question in your tone than you hoped to show.

The heat in the room shot through the roof. You were sure if you checked the temperature it would be well above its normal chilly state. Perhaps it was the heat in your cheeks that was causing such a change.

“So…” he began.

“So,” you replied, trying to avoid eye contact. Please, just let it happen already.

You thought you had a good idea of why he had come to your room at one o'clock in the morning after a night of drinking and questionably close dancing. You couldn't be certain, though, because that was just how he was: unpredictable and exceedingly complicated.

You didn’t think him so complicated as to not be able to admit why he was at your room, though.

You waited as he thought about what to say next. This is taking too damn long.

Luckily, you prepared an excuse. You never failed to come ready for something you could expect. And this, the direction in which your encounter is headed, is inevitable. You had been rehearsing the line in your head for the duration of their conversation like reviewing terms for a test.

This was the only way to test if your assumptions are correct.

Blame it on the champagne if I am wrong. But I really hope I'm right.

You look directly at him. Time to be daring.

You took a breath and did your best to look directly at him, "Well, I actually do need some help. You see, this dress is quite difficult to take off by myself..."

Walking towards him, you place a hand at the hem of your dress. Your delicate fingers wrap around its lacy fabric.

Chrollo looked amused. He sizes you up, looking from your hand holding the hem of your dress to your unfazed expression. Unfazed, yet your cheeks were slowly turning a shade of scarlet. Nice try, Chrollo thought.

He gestured, "Turn around."

You obeyed. You desired something far more than the unzipping of your dress, but you were not presumptuous enough to say it. The expression on Chrollo's face told you that he was hoping for the same thing. He hid many emotions well, but being turned on wasn't one of them.

Chrollo brushed your hair away from the zipper, delicately placing it over your shoulder. His fingers purposefully grazed your back as he did this, causing your breath to hitch slightly.

His hands moved to the zipper, carefully pulling it down. It went past the clasp of your bra to your lower back. There was complete silence. Both of you were still. Are we still hesitating?

Chrollo was the first to move. He pulled you close to him so that your back was touching him. His left arm wrapped across your chest possessively, holding you in a tight embrace. With his other hand, he brushed your hair back from your ear. He smelt of sweet alcohol. Clearly, he was slightly drunk as well, for the next words he said couldn't be uttered by a sober man.

His whispered breath tickled your neck, husky with the threat of sleep, "I want you so bad right now."

You tensed with a sudden surge of desire. Your impression had been right. He let his strong arm remain around you, patiently waiting for a response.

You choked out your reply, "The feelings' mutual."

Under his touch, your streak of audacity from earlier dissolved into compliance. You suddenly wanted nothing more than to submit to his words.

With complete control, Chrollo took your shoulder and turned you around. Your dress was now loose on your shoulders. He placed his hands around your hips firmly. He looked at you under his thick eyelashes and slowly leaned in. The pressure was growing to an unbearable level, but he still wouldn't go all the way.

Then his lips crashed against yours with the force of weeks of pent-up desire. This kiss didn't speak of courtesy, of patience. This was raw passion. It was furious and messy. you preferred this to sensitive steps around the intensity they both craved.

"You must still be drunk," you said playfully as you both pulled away to catch your breath. You held your hand to Chrollo's chest. His heart was beating surprisingly fast.

"If I'm drunk, then what are you?" Chrollo said with a lazy smirk.

"I'm drunk as well."

Chrollo threaded his hands through your hair, pulling the long strands through his fingers. He pulled you in close again with his hand at the back of your head.

You opened your mouth to allow for Chrollo's tongue to slip in. He lessened the intensity and slowly moved his tongue against your own tongue and lips. You couldn't help but let out soft moans that made Chrollo weak at the knees.

He pushed you against the wall to deepen your kiss. Drawings fluttered down, becoming detached with the sudden movement. Including that drawing.

Chrollo pulled away, much to your shock. You were left panting with reddened cheeks. Please don't let this end now.

He displayed a shit-eating grin. Even with his ego, in the current moment, his expression made you melt. His face was inches from yours, looking down into your (eye color) eyes.

He shifted his gaze down to the floor and said, "Nice drawing you have there."

You finally noticed what he had been so smug about. Shit. Your face flushed ten different shades of scarlet.

Chrollo leaned in as he did before and murmured in your ear, "I wish I could see the real thing."

You failed to not show your excitement. The way your eyes lit up exposed you. "I can arrange that."

At that, Chrollo leaned in again, this time moving to your neck. His lips fluttered down your throat to your collarbone. You leaned your head back and tried to control your uneven breath.

His lips reached the edge of the neckline on your dress. He raised his eyes to meet yours, asking for permission to go further.

You let out a breathy, "Yes. Please."

What you wanted to say was, Please, take me now.

It could be too soon for him. But based on how this was going, you expected it was leading to something more. Whatever that was, you wished you could know right now. The growing tension between your thighs began to ache.

Chrollo slipped his hand across your skin to the hemline of your dress, moving it completely off of your shoulder and down your arms. Your black see-through bra was now in full view. Your nipples grew hard at the sudden exposure.

At least I went with my fancy bra. You suddenly grew very shy. The last time you went even this far was years ago.

He evidently liked the lingerie for his hands immediately traveled to your breast to caress it as he continued to kiss you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck. Your heart fluttered at his words.

Chrollo then moved his lips progressively further down as he slipped your dress off of your body. Soon your underwear came into view, then your feet. He helped your step out of the dress.

"Your turn," you said, unbuttoning his shirt. All the while he continued to distractingly leave lazy kisses upon your face, one on your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

After an agonizingly long time, you pulled off his shirt. Fuck.

You knew he would be defined. But him, this boy standing in front of you, resembled more of a greek statue than an actual human. It looked like his body had been sculpted by the finest stone on earth. He had a six-pack, defined pectoral muscles, and prominent collarbones. His biceps flexed as he leaned his hand against the wall, bracing himself. It was you who needed to brace yourself. Your breath hitched again at the sight of him.

You ran a hand up his firm body as you planted your lips upon his once again. This time Chrollo put his hands beneath your thighs, his fingers pressing into your soft skin. He picked you up easily.

You wrapped your legs around him as he brought you to the bed, kissing him all the while.

He dropped you down gently, releasing his grip off of your thighs. You took this time to look up at him and admire the beauty of his aroused state. He had a dangerous and wild look, with tousled hair and a constant smile playing at his lips. His heavy-lidded eyes were lazily focused upon you.

You continued to make out on the bed, its white silk sheets creating an angelic halo around you. Chrollo couldn't stand looking at you like this, underneath him. It was far too much power for one man to hold.

You reached to your back to undo the clasp of your bra. You threw it to the ground. Chrollo immediately began to touch your naked tits in a way that made you want to dissolve. He moved in circles around your nipples first, watching as they grew harder under his expert touch. Then he moved his mouth to the sensitive area, playing with you and biting slightly. You audibly moaned at the gesture. Damn the neighbors.

Chrollo sensed your desire to take it further. He looked up, grey eyes filled with lust, "Y/n...let me pleasure you."

It wasn't the suggestion you were expecting, but you were satisfied nonetheless. You didn't care about anything in the world besides what he could do to you at this moment, whatever it may be.

"If you say my name like that you can do anything you want to me," you said breathily. It was exactly what he needed to hear.

Chrollo smirked and moved to take off your soaking underwear. Under his pants, his dick grew visibly harder. He threw the underwear onto the floor.

Gently placing his finger at your throbbing core, he began to stroke. Upon receiving his touch your back arched involuntarily. You were beyond eager.

"Fuck... Chrollo..."

This served as encouragement for him to insert his finger deeper into you, curling it slightly. It hit your g-spot repeatedly, eliciting ungodly sounds from you.

As he was doing this, he slowly positioned himself on top of you, grabbing onto the bed frame with his spare hand. He just wanted to look at your face as you opened your mouth in delight.

He inserted one more finger which caused your arousal to heighten. God, he really knows how to do this.

Just as you felt the heat in your core escalating, he slid his finger out. You whimpered in protest.

Chrollo looked down at you with a wicked smile. "Beg for it."

Oh fuck.

You gladly would. It was more your instincts speaking than any coherent thought.

"Please... Chrollo..." you said between breaths.

You wanted to not only plead for him, you wanted to worship him.

"More."

This is what you had been missing out on all those weeks. And oh god, did you eat it up.

"FUCK please do that again," you exclaimed.

It was enough to convince him. Chrollo moved his face towards your slickened pussy.

Is he about to...

He pushed his hair back out of his face with his clean hand, his forehead tattoo revealed. For only a second, he raised his eyes to gaze into yours. You fell for him all over again at that simple glance.

Then he entered you. His tongue made you want to weep. He devoured your insides, soaking up the salty juices. You couldn't help but hold his head, pulling it closer to your body. You ran your hand through his soft black hair. There was so much heat between them that you were both perspiring.

You began to shudder." I'm going to... oh... fuck," you gasped.

You felt the sweet release of cum spread below you onto the sheets and Chrollo himself. You felt self-conscious for a moment. That is until Chrollo began to lick up your juices. He ran his tongue up your soft thighs.

"You taste so fucking good, darling."

Chrollo looked at you like he had fallen all over again as well. You grinned back at him. Your cheeks grew even redder, if possible. Your heart screamed to continue but you were too physically exhausted to move. Still, wouldn't Chrollo want his turn?

You laid there, naked and panting on the silk sheets. Chrollo flopped next to you, unaffected beside his flushed cheeks and a wide grin.

The lights were still low in the little room. Looking out the window, you saw that the sun had yet to rise. This was a positive fact because the only thing you needed to do now was to sleep. And preferably, cuddling with the boy next to you. You hoped he would stay. It was more than hope, really. Your body couldn't spend any more time away from him after that.

Damn. He was good. He was really, really fucking good.

He knew his way with words, to begin with. He said exactly what needed to be said to escalate your arousal. You wanted to worship those fingers, the way he so expertly felt around you like he had memorized a map. And his tongue was even more worthy of revere.

You flipped over to your elbows. Your breasts brushed against the bedding, noticeably making Chrollo gulp. You boldly reached to touch the front of his pants.

"You don't want a turn?" you smirked.

"This was more than enough for me."

He stared into your eyes as if he was calculating a complex math problem rather than looking at the person who just received the best head of their life.

You yawned, despite yourself. Your body ached with all the action of the night.

"Go to bed, sweetheart. I'll be here."

Those were the last words you heard before your eyes drifted shut. Exhaustion stilled your naked body. Chrollo reached over you to turn off the bedside lamp.

He wasn't nearly as tired. He could've gone for a couple more rounds, perhaps take it a step further if you so desired. But he knew you needed the sleep. Most of your makeup had rubbed off, displaying the dark circles under your eyes.

He slipped off his pants and threw them onto the floor with the rest of the clothes. He found the soft sheets and pulled them across you and himself. The bed was small but cozy. His strong chest was flush against your back.

Your (hair color) hair smelt of a summer day, like sunlight and wildflowers. He took this opportunity to feel up the rest of your glorious body. He ran his hand lightly from your shoulder to your hips, to your thighs. All of it was angelic to him.

He moved you closer with his arm, protectively wrapping it across your front. Somehow holding you like this felt far more intimate than any sexual activity. The way the moonlight graced your skin was majestic.

How had he fallen so hard, so fast? It was unlike him to act with such recklessness.

Through it all, he still had his mind. you had no way to tell the extent of his feelings. He made sure of this. His libido could act one way, that was clear from tonight. But he was an expert at controlling his outward emotions. You would never know. If you did, it would be over for him. All the planning will be for naught.

He closed his eyes before he could fall upon any more worries. He had already pondered the issue for many sleepless nights.

He fell into a dreamless slumber with you safe in his arms. You both slept soundly until the sun peeked through the window.

#hunterxhunter fanfic #hunter x hunter #hunter university #hxh university au #hxh fanfic #hxh #hxh chrollo #chrollo #chrollo smut #hxh smut #chrollo x reader #chrollo headcanons #chrollo lucilfer #hxh x you #hxh x y/n #hxh x reader #hxh scenarios #chrollo x y/n #minors dni #not safe for minors

[anolyso]

Utena thoughts...about 2 weeks later

I've been putting it off for way too long and so most of my thoughts stopped being fresh. On top of watching way too many analysis vids post-watch, but still I do at least want to put my 2cents of Revolutionary Girl Utena out there for the world.

Utena is perhaps one of the most famous "magical girl"/shoujo action shows out there for not only it's transgressive themes of relationship abuse and low-key pretty much being the poster girl for like actual feminist perspective on/in anime...but also just doing it all in both a heavily allegorical and understated, yet super over-the-top stylish fashion

But that's it's reputation preceding itself, is Utena worth while all these years? The answer is Yes, but it also really shows it's age and budget in pacing and repetition, tho as an appreciator for "behind the scenes" compromises in art, it's more showcasing Ikuhara's talent in working around both taboo and long-form budget constraints with just well-thought out and iconic imagery that - while episodic and formulaic - is just very good at filling the 39 eps with feasts for the eyes.

Utena broadly is about tomboy Utena with memories long ago after her parents died being "saved" by a princely figure like a princess...except she's so enthralled by the nostalgia that instead she becomes a full on Prince herself and receives a dueling ring to fight in the Ohtori Acadamy secret duels for "engagement" to Rose Bride Himemiya Anthy.

Utena is divided between 4 arcs, only the first and last being Manga adapted from hearsay:

1: Student Council Saga

2: Black Rose Saga

3: Akio Ohtori Saga

4: Apocalypse

From back to forth I'd say that Akio + Apoc is more just escalation into the finale while Black Rose being anime original comes off as a glorified side-character study which while complementing the secondary cast, feels like one of those Anime movies that has to say "but if you don't watch this part, it's pretty much optional for the main plot" despite it also actually introducing the most important antagonist within it's margins.

More importantly, it's the Student Council (arc and the actual people) that lay the foundation but also a large part of the show's focus which ironically puts Utena in the background until like almost the finale and some in-between developments, so it's less "Utena (and Anthy Himemiya)'s story" until the very end, but more like a showcase of how fucked up the system at large is (pin in that).

By the Council themselves is:

Kyouichi Saionji: The biggest jobber, like actually introduced as the most despicable loser ep 1 and proceeds to be a complete arrogant joke for the rest of the show. Honestly in another shojo "love" story, they'd find some way to redeem him but semi-compellingly they turn him into like an Aqua-lad type pathetic brat with an inferiority complex to the actual Student head

Miki Kaoru: the naive "nice, non-threatening soft boy" that also just never actually listens to the girls around him. Probably adds more complexity to the whole patriarchal idea on analytic reflection since yeah, the whole "nice guy finishes last" plays up better when the kid comes off as that "ally" energy of wanting to save Himemiya from being the Rose Bride but also low-key won't actually not just do the duels and win her cuz he's that sorta wishy-washy hypocrite. Arguably the least hateable guy in the cast (minus mascot Chu-Chu)

Juri Arisugawa: TRAGIC LESBIAN TRIANGLE LOVE. Probably the biggest point to of both "not-explicitly homosexual" but also really freaking obvious since her entire story is her girlfriend stealing her "boy crush" when actually she was crushing on her and being pretty much frustrated throughout her story as pining most of it. It's quaint by today's standards but also like damn girl, get over her she was like the worst back stabbing bitch (literally if Black Rose counts)

Nanami Kiryuu: SPEAKING OF QUEEN BITCH, it's been a long time since I've watched a High School girl bully and honestly it's kinda refreshing. If Miki is "soft-boy uwu" Nanami is a brat that gets her come-uppance often, featured prominently as an anime only with the MOST filler/comedic episodes but also not low-key, being the most out-spoken actual brother complex ironically spins perhaps the biggest twist and ironic relationships of "I love my brother but not-like-that but also like-that" by the end. Mostly comedic relief but I find her inclusion to actually add a lot more to juxtapose...

Touga Kiryuu: Big Student Council Prez himself, the first arc antagonist and also a strong foil to Saionji and later a stepping stone for Akio. Touga is THE image of a Princely Playboy Heart-Throb that in any other Shoujo romance would have the main girl win him over from all those "other girls" despite him being apathetic if not outright manipulative of them. Good thing Utena is better than that and really puts a spotlight on just not-actually-ok his power hunger for "the power to bring the world revolution" that leads him to heavily objectify Anthy, arguably even more than Misogynist Trophy Girlfriend beater Saionji, since he doesn't even see her as more than a means to an end despite professing and looking the Prince part but lacking all the actual virtues.

The Student council matters more since they're characters and subsequent tragic flaws are the ACTUAL meat of the show and on second rumination actual shows more how fucked up the system/gender dynamic/power hierarchy is since - while it blatantly fucks over Juri who can't just outright say who she likes - also show almost it's own sub-text of Masculine failings: Saionji desperately clinging to being TOXIC MASCULINE™ and completely falling short underneath Touga; Miki's "nice boy" act belying him trying to replace his low-key nostalgia for his sister (also a bitch, but apparently was more like Nanami in the manga); and best yet Touga being the quintessential "Prince in all but actual behavior" by emulating a cutthroat and Machiavellian world view but coming up empty because well, he's just an illusion of a prince...but that leads in way more to the big finale piece where I'll reintroduce the actual story's main trio

Utena Tenjou: Tomboy Prince with brain empty except for lesbian thoughts. Honestly probably what every western "STRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN" archetype wishes they were since while having very tomboyish personality in athletics, blunt speaking and also VERY oblivious to the actual plot for REAL DRAMATIC IRONY, but also never actually demeaning her being feminine partially due to her love of an childhood prince and how she maintains her relationship with both her friend Wakaba and later Anthy. Honestly mostly a plot device after S1 until she gets ACTUAL development by the very end and instead kinda bumbles her way into undoing the entire REVOLUTION OF THE WORLD. I kinda wish she felt either more cognizant or at least felt like she was developing/properly rebuking the rest of the cast's power obsessions but I guess that's for the movie.

Anthy Himemiya: Actual Trophy Wife with a dark secret (darker than ski- wait no that's terrible scratch that). Set-up very much as an immediate princess in distress while also being the most femme Yamato Nadeshiko, Anthy being the Rose Bride as a literal prize who acts and behaves as whom she's "engaged" with desires while otherwise being quiet, wry, mysterious and noticably submissive, by the end it actually plays up into THE BIG REVEALS of just how abused she's been into a hopeless acceptance...like y'know actual abuse victims.

Akio Ohtori: Grade A Antagonist, probably the most insidious I've seen a villain in a while, Akio is notable for, back in 1997, being perhaps the big go-to of actual deconstructing the facade of a whole shoujo genre's "hots for a teacher/sexy man putting the moves" and highlighting how actually exploitative and abusive a person like that really is. Being Himemiya's brother (somewhat justified in the manga by both being a weird Sailor Moon-esque reincarnation of gods/godesses of Dios), despite how much of his motives are runing the background and how the entire back story is  uh...brought up in like barely in the last arc with little lead up (some scenes feel like they'd be a full melodrama season and they just have like 1 scene in the final arc episodes) he manages to one-up Touga (in the plot as well) by instead of "just" objectifying girls, not-just-flat out saying Utena looks best as a princess, but y'know the fact that he is implicitly yet constantly exploiting and victim-blaming Anthy for her own suffering for "the power of Dios/Revolution of the world" turns it on its head

I've spent all this time on characters but in truth a lot of the meat of the show relies again on the Council Members fleshing out the issues of system leading to outright divorcing "being a Prince" (heroic altruistic virtues) and "being a man" (considering like all but maybe the comedic relief have some deliberately misogynistic behavior) and beyond just the plot (or rather character) synopsis, the talent goes far more in how it's framed, the symbolic/allegorical shots, the repetition adding a good episode formula flow to character showcases, probably the most "tasteful" allusion to uh...*ahem* sexual abuse that so many other edgier/prentious shows fumble. Both in how intimidating yet understated it's foreshadowing is until they hard-reveal it despite never explicitly naming it even tho it sends Nanami into hysterics

Really it's both a massive blessing and reason for it's cult beloved status for it's aesthetics but also it's burden, for being a full 39 episodic season by season character development study of everyone BUT the main trio except for snippets and the very end that makes it greatly appreciable as a legitimate work of art.

What I wanted more to say however (long overdue) is that a large part of following is, visibly at least, western feminist critiques and yes while it almost seems like Utena fits the "deconstructing patriarchy" story like a glove...it's weird how almost none of them actually can give a good historical account of actual Japanese female/gender/sexuality norms nor Anime contemporaries actually were. Like Tenchi Muyo and Berserk came out the same year (Cardcaptor Sakura the next) and despite how you can "feel" the influence in lots of modern shows like SHAFT's signature visual imagery cuts or many WESETERN shows having straight scene references to Utena....almost no one has a similar feel to Utena until like Princess Tutu comes out.

Really tho probably should've watched Utena and then Tutu because while it's undeniable that Utena is a major pillar of shoujo re-codification - what with everyone before Utena was saying they thought it'd be like a Rose of Versaille or Lady Knight rip-off...whose laughing now? - it's almost like there's a missing link between it and it's major western fanbase (probably with what few anime did get overseas, this one probably rose to the top), or how very noticeable there IS an influence on it's genre in Japan

Almost none of the big analyst fans actually know A) it's not "a deconstruction of Magical Girls" since despite Ikuhara working on Sailor Moon just before this, almost none of the tropes line up and instead more with Shoujo genre as a whole. or  one of the major inspirations was Takarazuka theater.

And this is not to dismiss how inspirational it is to it's western fandom, but while I am notably cynical towards placing things on pedestals, there's probably something about cultivating the whole pop-culture feminist reading commune with people making weird time-loop theories while kinda most of it is just filling in a mad-lib mostly thanks to Ikuhara just keeping things on the vague and letting the audience take away their own perspective.

Again, most of the show is completely sub-textual or visually/symbolically depicted and never stated nor properly defines it's weird key words (End of the World, Revolutionize the World, Power of Dios, Rose Bride, all things said constantly but never really said what they "mean". But that's also perhaps its charm, in it's allegory and very Death of the Author approach, it has definitely allowed it's fan theorizing and appreciation to flourish so there's something there for that.

Ultimately I'd say Utena the TV series is great more so for what it isn't...or rather I should say it's great for not just subverting Shoujo tropes and archetypes for the Japanese audience but also that despite dealing with some very serious and heavy subjects in obtuse and perhaps understated ways for the time, people have allowed it to be put on it's pedestal because they can easily fit it in themselves.

Honestly though, not that a more "straight forward" approach wouldn't detract from Utena but I will say that the movie, Adolescence of Utena, is very much the best encapsulation of what Utena strives to be (for another big blog post) and while the TV series has plenty of time and flexes it's directorial muscles with budget constraints and season pacing UNrestrained, the movie will trim a lot of the fat

#long post #Revolutionary Girl Utena #I haven't actually done my Anime thoughts in a while #Maybe I'll keep this on my main blog this time #I wrote this mostly on facebook tho if I wrote it here first I'd better integrate images probably #anolyso's media time #uh...except now that's on my main blog

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟐𝟔.𝟑𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

A/N: As you’re all aware, the Philippines was hit by a category 5-equivalent super typhoon two weeks ago. The typhoon is the world’s strongest storm this year and has brought with it unimaginable destruction. Here’s a link to #RescuePH where you can read more about what’s happening in the Philippines right now. There are also donation links there! If you don’t have the means to donate – which is very understandable - here’s a link to a video to watch on YouTube where all ad revenue goes to those affected by the typhoon! I have learned so much about Filipino culture these last few months writing ST as well as gotten to know some incredible Filipinos along the way, and the news of the typhoon has rocked me to my core. If you feel like, you can play the video in the background while you’re reading this massive chapter! Enjoy the final chapter 🧡💛 I love you all so much!

Sunday, 9 August

“It’s a beautiful day out,” Y/N’s mother said as she looked out over Porthminster Beach, leaning her head back a little and letting a salty breeze rustle up her grey hair. “Shame we’re spending it in the shade.”

Y/N glanced up at the roof overhead that offered rescue in the sweltering summer sun. Though she loved the sun as well and wanted to spend as much time in it as possible before summer ended soon, she knew that this chat would have her sweating enough without them sitting out of the shade the Porthminster Beach Café provided. Y/N looked down at her iced lemon tea, inhaling slowly as to calm herself. All day yesterday, Y/N had been too anxious to do anything but stay in her room and think about today. While in the lighthouse the day before yesterday, Y/N had sent her mother a text message asking if the two of them could talk without her father or Dominic being present. She knew her mother would’ve told them by now where she was and what she was doing, but she appreciated the fact that she had listened to Y/N’s request and not brought them.

“Didn’t get to go to a proper beach this summer,” Mrs McKay went on, eyes on the sea and where the waves crashed softly against shore. “The family could’ve gone someplace nice, would’ve been good for us.”

Y/N didn’t say anything.

“Think we all just need a break. Go somewhere to forget about everything and reflect on our lives.”

Y/N still kept her mouth shut, knowing that she had to choose her words carefully so that her mother would fully understand.

“Do you remember when we went to that beach in Florida and you saw that sting ray?” Mrs McKay chuckled a little to herself.

“And I screamed for help ‘cause it scared me.”

Mrs McKay laughed some more at the memory, studying the beach some more. “That was truly something else. Not something you’d normally do.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that.

“Don’t you miss those days? When everything was simple?” Mrs McKay seemed to be completely lost in her own head and memories, thinking back to a time she had clearly glorified.

“I don’t…” Y/N trailed off, furrowing her brows. “I don’t think everything was that simple back then, or now, for that matter.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs McKay asked. “Don’t you think the family would benefit from taking some time off and just relax like we did back then?”

“It’s…” Y/N glanced at her iced tea. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if it would’ve been a good idea for the family to reconnect again?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not? We need to talk about everything that’s happened these past few months. And especially what happened two days ago, because your father and I agree, Y/N, that was very irresponsible of you, throwing yourself out of a moving vehicle like that.”

“I know it was, I’m aware,” she said. “But in that moment, and I think you know this deep down, that was the only solution. You wouldn’t have stopped to let me out.”

Mrs McKay sighed. “We should definitely think about that holiday I just suggested, it’d be nice.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, studying her mother for a moment before she spoke for the first time in a few minutes. “I don’t… I don’t think it would be, Mum.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wouldn be nice to go on that holiday.”

Mrs McKay finally looked at her daughter, eyes following her outline slowly with a slight tilt to her head as if she was trying to assess what was best to say in this sort of situation. “The beach is always nice.”

“I wasn’t referring to the beach. I was referring to family time.”

Mrs McKay nodded her head slowly, bringing her glass of water up to her lips to take a slow sip.

“I think… I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for a while now. I think you’ve known it would happen as well.”

Her mother didn’t answer.

“I just… I just want to talk about everything and what’s gonna happen going forward. I don’t want there to be anything left unsaid after this.”

Mrs McKay kept her eyes on the table and nodded again. “Alright. What did you want to talk about?”

“Well… a lot, really.”

“Better start then.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, taking a quick sip of her iced tea before she turned her attention back on her mother, reaching for the ball of courage she had gathered from thinking about and getting ready for this the past two days. “I think ever since I was born, you’ve put pressure on me to live the kind of life you couldn’t when you were younger. When you got me, you saw possibility to make something right that you yourself hadn’t been able to.-”

“-That’s not true.”

“Let me finish. I think, until you got me, you were lonely. Dad wasn’t exactly a fucking dream-“

“-Watch your language.-“

“-And you didn’t really have any friends, so the second I was born, you finally had someone. You could do whatever you wanted with me. Or at least, that’s what you thought,” Y/N said. “You projected this image onto me of what you thought the perfect daughter, the perfect woman, would be, and ‘cause I was terrified of letting you and Dad down, I went along.”

“You’d never do that.”

“But I have. And I will.”

Mrs McKay furrowed her brows, but before she was able to say anything else – though she’d talk over people if she so had to, Y/N knew.

“I’ve been so conflicted, mum.” Y/N heard her own voice break, and it wasn’t till then that she realised that she was close to tears. The lines between Mrs McKay’s brows deepened at the sound. “Part of me hates you.”

Mrs McKay’s face fell at that.

“It hates you so much. It hates you for the days you told me you noticed I’d lost weight and how beautiful I now looked, it hates you for never being interested to listen to me talk about what I’m passionate about, it hates you for belittling said passions and making me feel stupid for having ambitions.”

“Y/N-“

“-It hates you for making me feel conflicted when I first followed my dreams, ‘cause I didn’t know if I was supposed to follow my own or the ones you’d laid out for me just to please you momentarily. Hates you for the trauma you caused me. For the countless hours spent in front of a mirror pointing out my flaws, and taking a really long time to realise that said flaws aren’t that. For hearing your voice in my head when I make a mistake, telling me how I should’ve known better.”

Now it was Mrs McKay’s turn to be stunned to silence, just watching Y/N with a steel face, refusing to show any sign of emotion.

“But…” Y/N dug her nails into her palms, telling herself that she could cry when she got back to the Inn, but not now. “But the other part of me, one that I hate most of all, still loves you.”

Mrs McKay’s lip was a thin line and Y/N recognised that face. That face appeared when her mother was unsure of how to feel about something, but by the looks of the slight tremor in her cheeks, Y/N knew her words had gotten through.

Y/N sobbed, hoping no one around them could hear and that no one she knew were around to witness this. “It loves you ‘cause you’re my mum. You brought me into this world, and you’ve stuck by me. You made me feel loved when I was younger, and I used to look up to you. You used to be my role model.”

Mrs McKay looked away.

“That part makes me feel so horrible, ‘cause how can you love someone who brought you so much self-loathing and misery? How is that possible?” Y/N was quick to wipe away the tear on her cheek. “But I do. I can’t erase that or you from my memory. Part of me is going to miss you after this.”

Mrs McKay met Y/N’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to contact me again. None of you. Not you, not Dad, not Dominic.”

Mrs McKay looked absolutely dumbfounded. “I beg your pardon?”

“You three brought me so much torment I don’t want you in my life anymore.”

“Y/N, you’re being ridiculous-“

“-If you want to contact me or meet me, you have to ask me via text message if I am okay with that. If I say yes, that only makes it a one-time thing, we are not going to stay in contact after it. If I say no, don’t try to persuade me, manipulate me, or make me feel bad about it. I’m pushing you out of my life for a reason.”

“Try to think rationally for once-“

“-If you do not respect this and come after me again, I’ll file a restraining order against you, Dad, and Dominic. Won’t look too good on Dad’s record now, will it?”

Mrs McKay just sat there staring again.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Mrs McKay didn’t react.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

Y/N nodded then, picking up her iced tea and hoping her mum didn’t see how her hand was trembling slightly.

“You don’t want any contact with your family? The people who are supposed to love you unconditionally-“

“-You might love me, but it’s not in a way that’ll help me grow. Which is what love is all about. St Ives and the people I’ve met here, those are my family. This is home now.”

Mrs McKay took a few moments to think before she said, with a voice so ice cold it made Y/N’s hair stand on end, “You can’t choose your family. You’re put into this world- you’re placed somewhere, where you belong.”

“No. Family and belonging are not synonymous. You are my birth family, but I can choose who I consider to be in my closest circle, the people that mean the most to me,” Y/N said. “You are not that.”

A short silence stretched out between them before Mrs McKay said, “What about your father’s business? The one he inherited from his father, your grandfather.”

“What about it?” Y/N asked. “You never even bothered to tell me what it is.”

“Oh, it’s got something to do with electronic pins. You know those you have in your phone?”

Y/N just looked at her mother.

“I’ve never bothered to ask much, Y/N, it hasn’t ever been very interesting to me.”

“Maybe it would’ve been to me if you’d just let me in on it from the start instead of assuming I was too dim to take on the role as CEO.”

Mrs McKay’s eyes narrowed as if she was about to protest, but she must’ve realised her daughter was speaking the truth because she did not object.

“Can’t Dad just let someone else be CEO? Someone who is actually good at their job instead of giving the job away to Dominic?”

“Dom is qualified for the role.”

“Sure, but he’s also a fucking arsehole.”

Mrs McKay winced at Y/N’s words.

“Mum, you never even wanted me to know what Dad was doing. Let alone want me to take over for him. It’s never been a problem before that I won’t take over after him, dunno why it would be now.”

Mrs McKay just looked at Y/N, their conversation on replay in her head it seemed because she was conflicted. For the longest time, they just stared at one another and realised what this meant. Y/N had been ready for this conversation for a while now, even though she hadn’t realised how badly it needed to be had till this very second. Mrs McKay, nor the other two that had come here, had truly known how Y/N felt before last night. What Y/N had said along with her actions must have spoken volumes. But this, Y/N was aware, took the cake. She was telling her mother, a person who had given up next to everything for Y/N in a sense, to never contact her again unless she had to. It had to sting, and Y/N knew that she would miss her mother sometimes. Those moments when they’d laugh at something together or those early years where Y/N remembered idolising her mum. She’d miss that. But she would also be so much happier without her in her life.

“Well,” Mrs McKay said, voice trembling. “I should be heading back to your dad. He won’t be too happy about the news.”

“Mum, you can leave him.”

The pitiful smile that graced Mrs McKay’s face after that made Y/N cringe. “I won’t.”

Y/N nodded, watching as her mother got up from her seat. She did as well, giving her mother a small smile to offer some peace, to tell her that it would all be okay. At least in Y/N’s world. Y/N could tell that her mother hesitated at first, but once she stepped forward with her arms spread wide, Y/N walked straight into her embrace. They hugged each other tighter than they had ever hugged before, savouring this last, this peaceful moment that they had together.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” her mum said, rubbing her daughter’s back.

“Bye, Mum.”

They stepped away from one another and her mother smiled at her again. Y/N swore she could see tears welling up in her mother’s eyes, but she chose not to point it out, fully aware that she was about to cry herself. Mrs McKay drank the rest of her water, looked one last time into Y/N’s eyes, and then walked past her, down the stairs, and out of sight.

Monday, 10 August

The teapot was empty and all the biscuits were gone, meaning that Florence, Camila, and Barb were leaving The Roaming Crab Inn. The five of them had been knitting for hours now, and though Y/N had finished her project a while ago, she wanted to spend some more time with the knitting ladies before doing what she had to do. Florence folded the jumper she was working on and Barb hummed some sort of melody while Camila talked everyone’s ears off.

“I’m telling you,” Camila said, putting away her glasses. “The sleeves on this dress are way too big.”

“No, they’re not.” Bessie got up from her seat and walked over to Camila, taking the baby doll lemon dress out of Camila’s hands. Lowering her glasses onto the tip of her nose, she took a closer look. “How many were you supposed to cast off?”

“Three.”

“But then this is correct, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Camila sighed, taking hold of the dress when Bessie gave it back to her.

“Besides, your granddaughter won’t notice if you did the sleeves wrong.”

Camila looked right up at Bessie with narrowed eyes. “So, you admit I made a mistake?”

“No, I just pointed out that if you did, your granddaughter would hardly see it.” Bessie turned back around to go sit down in her chair, meeting Y/N’s eyes and making a grimace as to say that whatever Camila had just knitted, couldn’t have been correct. She sat back down again as Y/N gathered all the cups and the biscuit tray, carrying it all back inside to the kitchen where she put it in the dishwasher.

“Bye, darling,” Barb smiled as she walked past the kitchen. “Your cardigan’s looking wonderful.”

“Thank you, Barbara. See ya,” Y/N smiled, walking upstairs to put on her green woollen jumper. It was getting rather cold out as evening approached, and though Y/N had just finished knitting her summer project, it wasn’t hers to wear. Looking out the window, she saw the glass with a bouquet of dead flowers still standing in her windowsill. She didn’t have the heart to throw it away since doing so would be like binning the last piece of this summer she still had left. Forcing herself to look away, Y/N blinked away the stinging in her eyes as she started walking back down the stairs and the back garden.

All the other ladies had gone, meaning that it was just Y/N and Bessie left. Bessie still sat knitting, smiling at Y/N as she stepped outside.

“Want me to make another brew?” Y/N asked, adjusting her white summer dress under her oversized jumper.

“No, me lover, that’s quite alright. Thank you, though.”

Y/N smiled, sitting back down in her seat and picking up the cardigan. She was picking at some threads that were poking out, some of the many flaws in her first ever knitting project, when Bessie put her vest down and glanced over at her. Y/N looked back at her, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly.

“Is something the matter?” Y/N asked.

“You tell me.”

Y/N huffed, looking back down at her cardigan. “Depends what you’re referring to, I guess.”

Bessie sighed a bit, putting the vest on the table before them. “You haven’t spoken about that chat you had with your mum yesterday.”

Y/N inhaled slowly. “It was a lot to process.”

“We got time.”

Looking up at the older woman again, Y/N was greeted with one of Bessie’s signature warm smiles.

“I told her that I don’t want her, Dad, or Dominic to ever contact me again. She got a bit defensive, but she agreed not to contact me unless necessary.”

Bessie nodded her head slowly. “Do you think she’ll keep that promise?”

“She will, I’m less certain about Dad and Dom.”

Bessie huffed, leaning back against the back of her chair. “That’s men for you, never listen to what a woman has to say.”

“The right ones do.”

Bessie laughed, making Y/N smile a little. “Talking from experience, are you?”

Y/N hoped Bessie couldn’t see her cheeks heat up, but she was sure she noticed, hearing the older woman chuckle heartily before silence settled over them once again.

“You know,” Bessie started, knitting her vest again. “When I was younger, I drew the conclusion that family isn’t always blood and who you’ve spent the most time with. No, family is who makes you feel at home, who makes you feel safe, and loved.”

Y/N looked over at Bessie, biting her bottom lip as it threatened to wobble again.

“Family is who you make it. You don’t owe your parents anything. They might’ve brought you into this world, but they didn’t give you life, you did that yourself. When you decided to leave them, when you came here, when you applied for your UCAT, when you met Harry and everyone else. That’s life. You chose life.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile, her sight getting blurrier with each passing second, but she didn’t really care just then.

“I’m so proud of you for doing that. It takes a lot of courage to follow your dreams, especially when the environment around you tells you that said dreams aren’t worth it,” Bessie said. “But, you have to remember this, they always are. Every dream is worth it. It’s okay to feel sad after making the right decision.”

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips and Bessie looked up at once, putting the vest away to focus her attention on Y/N who was now full on crying. She hadn’t known how much she needed to hear those words till Bessie finally said them. Holding onto Bessie’s hand for dear life, Y/N looked into the innkeeper’s eyes, trying to smile again, but she couldn’t.

“Bessie, thank you,” Y/N said between sobs. “Truly, thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I love you; I love how far you’ve come.”

Y/N brought a hand up to her mouth, stopping a loud sob from coming out from between her lips. “I don’t know what to do now,” she said once she had calmed down a little. “I don’t know where to go, what to do, how I’m gonna handle University when the time comes. Like, I’ll be 26 by that time and everyone who’s starting will be almost ten years younger than me. It feels like everyone’s sprinted this marathon since forever, and I’ve fallen over and struggled to get up so many times that I’ve fallen behind. I don’t know how I’m gonna get back into the race, you know? I can’t win.”

Bessie pondered over Y/N’s words, watching her intently as she wiped more tears away from her face. “You can still win, Y/N. And even if you don’t win, you still did everything you could, and that’s just as good as winning, is it not?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her and Bessie’s joined hands.

“Life doesn’t wait for you. It doesn’t force you to do anything, it just drags you along on a journey and it’s your responsibility to do what you want with your time on earth. You are still so young, you have so much time to do whatever you wanna do. If you lost your youth to controlling parents, abuse, a partner you thought truly loved you but didn’t, if you lost your youth to mental illness, your life isn’t over. There’s no deadline for anything like that in life. If you wanna go to uni now, five-none years after everyone else you know went to uni, then that’s what you’re gonna do. Who says you have to be a certain age, or at a certain stage in your life, or be satisfied with how you look, act, feel, before doing something that ultimately will make you happy? That will make your life worth living? No, life isn’t gonna wait for you to catch up, no one will, but it’s gonna give you opportunities to right your wrongs, to do what will bring you happiness. There’s no deadline, you still have time.”

Y/N met Bessie’s eyes again and the older woman smiled at her, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“All the time in the world,” Bessie said.

“I just don’t know what to do. I just… this feels like home, but after everything that happened last Friday, I’m not sure people want me here.”

“Oh, we do,” Bessie said firmly. “People might not have been happy with you, but they won’t love you any less. This is still your home, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled.

“We are your family now, Y/N. If you need a mum, I’ll be your bloody mum.”

Y/N laughed, leaning forward and bringing Bessie into a hug. Out of everything she had done in the last few days, this was definitely a moment Y/N thought she would cherish forever. This entire summer, Bessie had stood by her. No matter what, Bessie had been beside Y/N, ready to help whenever she needed guidance, and Y/N was unsure if she had ever met someone so willing to love as Bessie. She clung a little tighter onto Bessie, feeling another tear roll down her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Bessie said, a smile in her voice. “Now, all you need to do is revise for the UCAT and give that cardigan to its rightful owner, eh?”

Y/N therefore took the cardigan with her up to her room and sat down by her desk. Though she was sure Harry was home, she was unsure if she’d have the courage to actually knock on the door and give it to him. It’d be better if she just left it there for him, though she knew that would also just look very weird. After everything, she had to face Harry, she was just unsure of how it was all going to play out. It took her a while to find the right words, and once she was done with her final draft letter, she put it on the desk beside the pile of disqualified letters, getting up to find her things and get ready for the trip to the lighthouse. With her stomach hurting from nerves, she put the cardigan in the tote bag, struggling to fit it as she reached for the desk, picking up the letter and shoving it into the tote bag.

With her tote bag on her shoulder, she started on her walk to the lighthouse. She had no idea what Harry would say when she showed up, if he would even allow her to enter his cottage at all. The three days that had passed since the end of summer party felt like ten years each, time had never moved slower. Y/N had waited for this moment for a while now. She had tried to gather the courage she would need for this. But, she kept telling herself this, if she managed to meet her mum and confront her about everything and told her, her dad, and Dominic to stay away from her, then she could walk to Clodgy Point and hand Harry a bloody cardigan. How hard could it be?

However, with each step she took that led her closer to the lighthouse, Y/N felt almost just as anxious, if not worse, than when she walked to meet her mother. There was something about facing Harry after everything that made her mouth dry up. She had absolutely no idea if he would want to see her again after everything, if he could even bear the sight of her after all she put his family and loved ones through. Not only had her father showed up to Jessa’s farm, but Harry had also been violently slammed against his own car and gone into hypo not long after. The mess that had been last Friday had made them both go through emotions neither thought would be possible to endure at once and during one single evening. She wondered if Harry knew she had been to the lighthouse and done the weather reports that night and the following morning.

Walking along Fore Street, Y/N gazed into the shops on either side of the pedestrian street, taking in life in St Ives as she didn’t know what would happen after today. She was originally set to check out of the Inn that morning, August 10th, but Bessie told her it would be alright if she wanted to leave by train later that day. Y/N didn’t know yet where she wanted to go or how far that would be, but all she knew was that she had to be in Plymouth on September 10th to take the UCAT. Besides that, her future looked to be very blurry. It all depended on what happened when she arrived at the lighthouse.

But as she strolled up the hill to Clodgy Point, she didn’t see Harry’s yellow van. Though this was weird at first, she tried to tell herself that he was still home. There hadn’t been a single time that summer when she’d shown up to Harry’s cottage and he hadn’t been there. He was always there.

Knocking on the door though, left Y/N standing there in silence for a single minute, the wild wind, seagulls, and sun overhead the only things keeping her company. She knew it was none of her business looking through the windows into his cottage, but she had to know if he was just ignoring her or if he really wasn’t there. She walked to the side of the house, looking in through the window just beside his bed, the one placed right beside the dining table. The place was empty. Sighing, she walked back over to the door and took her tote bag off her shoulder. She placed it in front of the door, hoping the wind wouldn’t blow it away, and then she got up and walked back the way she came.

It had been stupid to go there in the first place. Of course he wouldn’t be completely by himself after the hypo he had just a few days ago. His family and loved ones would most likely not allow him to be anywhere out of sight till they knew he was alright. Y/N refused to let her eyes start to sting again even though she could feel it coming on. The last few days she had been crying more than she ever had before. She never used to be a big crier, but something about being in St Ives and something about everything, the atmosphere and everyone in this town made her feel much more than before. It made her feel. It made her want.

Returning to the Inn, it was getting much darker out and Cornwall would soon be embraced once again by night. Y/N tried to look for Bessie inside, but the older woman must’ve gone home for a bit because she was nowhere to be seen. Y/N walked back up the steps and to her room, rummaging through her purse for her keys for what could be the last time. It seemed to take more time than usual and she groaned at herself, finding it harder to look for anything when it was so dark everywhere. The dim lighting of the stairs made her stop for a second. Taking a second to just narrow her eyes and get a closer look, Y/N was suddenly able to make out what it was she was seeing.

Bluebells, sea pinks, and hedgerow cranesbills laid neatly right before the door to her room. And though it looked almost just like the bouquets he had made her earlier, this one was almost entirely purple and made out of bellflowers. Y/N reached for it, picking it up and bringing it closer to her face, running her fingers over the soft petals gently as she felt her heart begin to pick up speed. It was as she smelled the flowers that she realised what this meant. Her eyes shot up and she just stared straight ahead at her door as she started breathing fast. He had been here. Harry had stopped by while she was walking to the lighthouse, dropping off the bouquet.

There was no time for hesitation as Y/N shot up into a standing position, running downstairs just as Bessie came back to the Inn.

“Oh! Hello, dear-“

“-Harry’s been here?” Y/N panted, standing in the doorway with the bouquet still in her hand.

Bessie’s eyes fell to the colourful flowers before she met Y/N’s eyes again. “He has.”

“When? Was it long ago?”

“Can’t remember, my darling, I just remember seeing his yellow car outside and there he was.” Bessie tutted softly. “It’s about to fall to pieces, that car of his.”

“You didn’t talk to him?”

A small smile spread out over Bessie’s lips as if she understood exactly what was going on. “I did.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows impatiently. “And?!”

“He asked where you were.”

Y/N waved her hands frantically to get Bessie to tell her what she’d told him in return.

“Told him you’d gone to the lighthouse to find him.”

Y/N ran a hand over her face, inhaling hugely. “Alright. Okay. Deep breaths.”

Bessie watched the younger woman with amusement, cocking her head a little to the side as a knowing smile spread out over her face.

“I… I need to leave. I need to go,” Y/N said. “If he shows up again, tell him I’ll wait.” She ran over to the other side of the street as the sky overhead was a slight darkening blue, tinges of purple and pink along the horizon. She stopped as she got a glimpse of the lighthouse, finally seeing the light. A light that would guide her where she needed to be. And with that, Y/N set off. By Porthminster beach, through Fore Street, flying past slow walkers, running straight for Clodgy lighthouse. She felt the bouquet fall apart, leaving flowers along her path through St Ives in a desperate attempt to get to Harry. To get where she needed and where she was supposed to be.

Though it had been a trek walking up the stone path before, Y/N ran up it with ease this time around. She could see the lighthouse blinking its distinct pattern, could make out some light within the cottage along with the yellow van. A breath left her and her heart began to soar, that shred of hope that had been born from seeing the bouquet in the hotel blossomed. Out of breath and probably very sweaty, Y/N knocked on the door of the cottage. However, like last time, no one opened. So, Y/N tried again, but same luck this time around. She walked out onto the moors and squinted her eyes, trying to look about to see if she could make out Harry’s figure.

“Harry!” she shouted, whipping her head around in different directions to see where he was. “Harry!” She ran beyond the cottage, trying to make out anything, anything at all, against the flat moors. “Where are you?!”

“Y/N!”

It came from overhead. As if an angel was flying just high enough for the wind to carry some of his voice, but low enough so that Y/N could hear him clearly. Turning around, Y/N was sure she was seeing just that, an angel. Harry was standing on the gallery deck of the lighthouse, looking down at her. At the sight of him, Y/N felt an intense tingle go through her entire body. It was an overwhelming sort of happiness, unlike anything she’d ever felt before, and it surrounded her, made the air around her static with anticipation and adoration. The sky behind him was darkening so she couldn’t make out his face, but she would be able to do just that soon enough.

Smiling to herself, she ran for the door. She pulled it open and let it slam behind her as she ran up the steps. Past the office, past the bedroom, past everything, till she made it to the very top. Panting and thighs burning, she opened the door on the topmost floor. The ladder to the bell room stood to her right, but she turned left and walked out onto the gallery deck where she’d seen Harry.

There he stood, right under the blinking light. He was looking at her with his lips slightly parted, hair as unkempt as usual, and a look of relief and shock on his face. They were left there just staring at each other for a little while, neither of them able to voice what they had been thinking about for the last three days. Everything from her jumping out of the car to get him, to helping him with his hypo, to doing the weather report, to talking to her mum, and the cardigan. The cardigan. Y/N was ashamed of how long it had taken her to notice it, she blamed the darkening sky above them.

Harry was wearing the colourful square cardigan she had knitted him and placed in front of his door. The one she had put there not even an hour earlier along with her note. Biting her lips together, she let her eyes wander his body. She took in the Elton John tee shirt he was wearing and the loose light washed denim jeans along with his black Vans. But her eyes lingered on what he was holding in his hand. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath halted. Their eyes met again, and Harry’s jaw was now working, trying to find the right words as he so rarely did.

“What’s that?” she asked him in a small voice, gesturing at his hand.

He looked down at it before looking up at her again, holding it up for her to see. A book. And not just any book. Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. Her favourite book by her favourite author. The one she had been reading to him in the field beside the lighthouse all summer. Her eyes began to sting again and she wondered once again how many times she would find herself crying in the span of just a couple of days.

“I, uhm…” He looked at it, opening it on the page where he rested his finger. “I just got to this bit right here- I mean, the whole book is rather confusing ‘cause of the whole stream of consciousness thing going on, but…” He pointed a finger at the line he’d been reading. “This right here made sense. Very much.”

The light from the lighthouse continued to shine its pattern across the coast before and around them, making some of Harry temporarily light up. It just strengthened her argument from before, that he was an angel.

“’Nothing is so strange when one is in love,’” Harry said.

“’As the complete indifference of other people,’” Y/N finished and Harry looked up at once, taken aback by her interruption but not at all offended.

He nodded his head slowly. “Yeah.” A few moments passed before he said, with such a soft voice it felt like a caress against Y/N’s skin, “I dunno what’s really going on in that book, to be fair, but… but I understood that. That line made sense.”

“It’s not the best book to start off on if you’re getting into Woolf’s work.”

“Yeah, alright, but I had to, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s your favourite. It-“ He stopped himself, swallowing thickly as he shut the book again and kept eye contact with her. “It was a piece of you. I…” He inhaled slowly. “I didn’t know when I’d see you next- if I ever would again, and… Mrs Dalloway and Woolf just… It reminded me of you. It was a piece of you.”

Y/N wanted to walk closer to him.

“It was all those moments spent out in the field listening to you read it out loud, or just watching you while you did so. I…” He shrugged. “I might not know what’s going on in the book, but I don’t really give a fuck ‘cause if reading it will somehow bring me back to that and back to you, then I’ll bloody well do it.”

Her eyes fell to the book, biting her lips together before glancing up into his eyes again.

“I just wanted a moment. Whatever moment. A single moment with you. I’ve been so… so desperate these last few days,” he said, letting go of a small, but shaky breath. “I just wanted to be. Wanted to be with you. In whatever form, whatever I could get. Just be. Just exist in a place, in a memory, where I was in your presence.”

“Harry-“

“-And if you’re here to say goodbye… I just need this one. This moment. I just need to take it in. I just need to live with you for some seconds.”

Her lips fell apart even more and she furrowed her brow slightly. “Did you not read the letter I left with the cardigan?”

Harry pulled the book up again, tapping his finger against something resting between the cover and the first page. Was he using it as a bookmark?

“So, you read it?”

“’I’ve been knitting this all summer, it looked more like something that would fit you than me. The colours reminded me of you and how you made me feel. Love, Y/N.’”

Ignoring the fact that he had memorised the letter, she groaned slightly, scratching at her neck as she kept her eyes on the letter.

“Well… then I put one of the draft letters with the cardigan.”

Harry frowned.

“I didn’t know what I wanted to say to you, I wrote like 500 draft letters before I actually landed on something like ‘I’ll be at the Inn, please come see me’, but it doesn’t seem like I put that one in there.”

“No,” he said quickly. “You didn’t.”

“But then I saw the bouquet outside my door and Bessie said you’d dropped by. And since we hadn’t talked in days, I didn’t know what you thought of me and everything that had happened.”

“Grace told me. Dax, too.”

She just looked at him.

“Gracie told me you arrived with blood on your elbow and knee, that you helped wake me up, and Dax…” Harry sighed. “Well, he said he knew there was something going on, but he realised that, though we had been faking it, he knew then, just by watching you fuss over me and run for the lighthouse, that you actually cared about me. And he knows me well enough to just see it plainly on me that I have feelings for you, too.”

Y/N didn’t really know what to say. It was true. She cared about him. So very much. But she hadn’t thought about how it would look to Grace and Dax who had, mere hours before, heard that Harry and Y/N’s relationship had been a lie since the start.

“I… Y/N, I wanted to come to the Inn. I’ve wanted to see you ever since Friday, but Jessa wouldn’t let me out of sight and told me to rest for at least a day. And then, on Sunday, I went to the Inn but Bessie said you were out. So… I tried again today, but I wanted to make sure you knew I’d been by in case you were out again, so I left the bouquet.” His eyes fell to her hand, a small smile on his lips. “With bellflowers.”

When Y/N looked down onto her hand again where there had once been a beautiful bouquet. She remembered how she had felt flower upon flower split from between her fingers as she ran for the lighthouse, they were strewn along the path up to the lighthouse now. There was only a single one left in her hand. A bellflower.

“And I made you that cardigan,” Y/N said, looking up at him again. “It’s not perfect. There some faults here and there, a few holes, it’s a bit fucked-“

“-I don’t care,” Harry blurted out. “I like that it’s a bit fucked. I like when you can see the progress, when you can tell that someone’s struggled, but it’s turned out alright. I love it.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile. She looked down at the flower in her hand, feeling herself clutch it a little tighter, not wanting to let it go.

“Do you…” Harry trailed off, watching her as she met his eyes again. “No, forget it.”

“No, what?”

“It’s stupid, really-“

“-Nothing’s ever stupid, Harry, what’s on your mind?”

“Well…” He shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the bellflower in her hands. “Do you remember when we were on the beach and we talked about your favourite books and started to discuss whether or not destiny is real?”

There was no hesitation before Y/N nodded, remembering every single moment of this past summer in vivid detail.

“You said you believe balance and energy, that you get what you deserve based on what you’ve done, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And I believe that the universe brings us someplace or something ‘cause it’s already got this perfectly sculptured plan for us, where we’re supposed to end up.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve thought about that conversation these past few days, ‘cause…” He thought for a few seconds, finding his words. “I think we got what we deserved.”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We lied to everyone. We lied to people we love, to ourselves, and… the universe didn’t want us to lie. It didn’t want us to fake it.”

She tightened her hold on the bellflower, more wind blowing past them where they stood at the top of the lighthouse, the lamp shining its familiar sequence above them.

“Y/N, we’ve done it all wrong. We got what we deserved ‘cause we didn’t do it right.”

“What are you saying?”

“Our theories? You with your energy and balance and me with destiny? It’s all connected, don’t you understand?”

She just looked at him, too awestruck to think clearly.

“You’re right, we did the universe wrong so it got back at us by having our worlds fall apart around us last Friday. And destiny… well, we met and we did it wrong.”

“Then what would’ve been the right way?”

“To never have initiated the fake relationship at all. We should never have done it.”

A small pang of hurt erupted in Y/N’s chest and she furrowed her brows slightly. “Then we wouldn’t have really met each other, though.”

“But we would’ve. I ran into you; I shouldn’t have asked you to be my fake girlfriend. If I had just asked you out…” Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Who the fuck am I kidding? I wouldn’t have done that; I was way too nervous around you then.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up and she hoped Harry couldn’t tell how flustered she was.

“It was wrong of us to do it.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But it was, Y/N,” Harry said. “’Cause… it was never fake. Not really. We pretended to be a couple, but… it was never fake, not for me. My feelings for you, they’re not, and have never been, fake or a lie.” He took a small step forward, lips parted for a moment before he spoke again. “Every time I’ve touched you, or done something affectionate, or acted like someone who might be in love with you, it’s because I was. I am.”

A breath left her lips and her heart beat out of her chest, a rush of ecstasy flowing through her veins so quickly it made her dizzy with happiness.

“I’m in love with you. I… I’m so immeasurably in love with you, Y/N, that every moment without you, or any moment when I don’t have you close to some capacity, is insignificant. Woolf is right about that. Everything is much more important, I feel so much more than I did before you, all my senses are heightened, but I feel the most for you. It’s been like that for a while now.”

Y/N walked over to him, eyes on his before she looked down at the bellflower between them. “I didn’t…” She bit her lip for a second. “I didn’t really know what love was till I came to St Ives. I knew what it was to kind of love someone, I know that… to some degree I love my mum. I cared about Dominic, and I even loved Dad when I was little.” She glanced up again. “But I’ve never felt love like this. I’ve never been on the receiving end, never loved as much as I’ve done this summer. I feel so full of it. You know when you fill a bucket or a glass or anything with water, and the second it pours over the brim, the water envelopes it? That’s how this summer has felt.”

Harry smiled a little, his right dimple showing.

“You showed me what it means to love and be loved in return, that is what we’re put on this planet to do. What is life if you’re not loved and you don’t love?”

He just looked at her, eyes tracing her face and taking in each one of her features.

“It was never fake, Harry. Never.” The smile on his face disappeared and a shaky breath slipped from between his lips. “I’ve been falling in love with you all summer. I didn’t even realise how hard and fast it had happened till you kissed me at Porthgwidden Beach,” she said. “Even… Even if you kissed me just for show.”

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head quickly before he looked at her again, not sure if he’d heard her correctly. “What?”

“You kissed me-“ She stopped herself, tilting her head at him. “You kissed me to show off that we were a couple… right?”

“No, I didn’t,” he said. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Everything I’ve ever done has never been for show. Nothing was a lie. I wanted to kiss you at Porthgwidden. I had wanted to kiss you for a while.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Y/N, I always want to kiss you,” Harry admitted. “Always.”

She couldn’t help her slight smile. “Nothing was for show?”

“Nothing.”

“Everything was real?”

He looked down, finger tracing the petals of the bellflower in her hand. “We’re real, flower. Our feelings are real.”

“Then… if you always want to kiss me,” Y/N said, voice low and filled with purpose. He looked up at her quickly. “Why aren’t you kissing me right now?”

Another breath left Harry’s lips and he ended up just staring at her. The entire summer flashed before them as their eyes drifted from each other’s eyes to their lips and back up again. Them running into one another, going to Grace’s birthday, the kamayan on the beach, and everything that followed. Her reading to him in the grass, looking up every now and again to catch him watching her, a tinge of pink on his cheekbones as he looked away, doing his best to hide his smile which in turn made it impossible for Y/N to hide hers. Everything passed between them in those seconds where Y/N waited for him to kiss her. It was a whole summer of miscommunication, wrong-doings, and making up for mistakes, everything had come to this.

Harry raised his hand, slowly sliding his thumb over her cheek before he settled his fingers at the nape of her neck. They leaned into one another, resting their foreheads together and for a little moment, they just stood there. She let him hold onto her as she moved to slide her hands up his back, still holding onto the bellflower. Y/N glanced upward, the lamp of the lighthouse turning on. Seeing the light, she felt peace run through her. This was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Looking back at Harry, her eyes lingered on his lips before she met his eyes again. With that, he leaned in, and pressed his lips softly against hers. The light overhead turned on again and Y/N knew, without a shadow of a doubt, this was home. The taste of Harry’s lips, his hands on her neck and hips, his breath against her cheek; just having him in her presence, that was where she belonged.

They detached their lips for a short second, eyes meeting. “You’re staying?” he asked.

“I’m staying,” she answered. “If you want me to.”

There was a slight pause where they just looked at one another. She saw a smile form on Harry’s lips before he leaned in again, kissing her more fiercely. She felt his smile against her lips, making her smile back, unable to help herself. Harry tried to widen their lips so his tongue could trace hers, but their smiles were too wide, and their teeth ended up sliding against one another, making Y/N laugh and Harry giggle. They opened their eyes again, just looking at one another and smiling until they calmed down, kissing one another again.

This time, Harry managed to open their mouths in unison, tongues gliding against one another, and they were finally able to taste one another again. Nothing else mattered as they drew out the kiss, letting the heavenly rush that was going through their bodies in that moment take over completely. They were buzzing with electricity, shining like a star where they stood joined together. Y/N was sure that the lamp inside the lighthouse could go out, and her and Harry would light up the entire world and guide everyone who needed help, home.

She slung her arm around his neck, the hand clutching the bellflower rested on his shoulder and they deepened the kiss. It was the happiest moment of her life, standing there, at the top of the lighthouse, with Harry. There would be nothing like this ever. Everything had led to this. It was as Harry had said, everything else was so much more colourful now, but so insignificant in comparison to him, to this. How had she ever thought she’d live a life without him in it?

“You can spend the night,” Harry said once they had regained their breaths. “We don’t have to do anything; I just want you to stay here with me.”

She smiled at him, letting go of a breathy chuckle. “I’ll stay the night.”

He smiled back, kissing her temple. “I just want you as close as possible.”

She turned her face and pressed her lips against his again, closing her eyes and melting into him again. He gripped her face gently, pulling her to him and moaning softly against her, his wet lips making a hot shiver run up her spine that absolutely no one but Harry had been able to conjure. An early autumnal wind blew past them and though it was a cold breeze, Y/N felt herself radiate warmth. They giggled against one another when they realised they had completely forgotten where they were, the plans from earlier about going downstairs.

Harry took Y/N’s hand and the two walked back down the stairs, Harry carrying Mrs Dalloway and Y/N the bellflower. Once they reached the cottage, Y/N walked straight over to the kitchen and found a small glass she could put the flower in, and once it was filled with some water, she put it on the dining table, smiling a little at it. Harry walked over and sat down in the windowsill Y/N had spent countless hours studying for her UCAT, he watched her as she marvelled at the bellflower, studying it in the dim light of the cottage.

“What’ve you been up to the past few days?” Harry asked as Y/N sat down by the dining table.

“Been knitting that,” she said, nodding in the direction of the cardigan Harry was still wearing. “And I had a chat with Mum.”

Harry paused for a few seconds, letting the words Y/N had just uttered sink in. “You… You talked?”

“Yeah.”

“Did your parents and-“ Harry made a grimace as if saying the name made him ill. “Dominic show up unannounced again?”

Y/N tried not to smile. “No, I asked Mum to meet me.”

“Oh.” Harry nodded his head some, letting the words sink in. “Alright.”

“I just wanted to make it very clear that I don’t want anything to do with them again. Told her that if they came close to me or tried to meet me without letting me know and talking to me beforehand, I’ll file a restraining order or summat like that. I dunno how to do it or if the situation is, like, qualified for one-“

“-Jo will help. They work for a law firm; they’ll know what to do.”

“I’d appreciate that very much.” She sighed. “If Jo and the rest of St Ives will ever truly forgive what we did.”

Harry’s eyes fell to his hands in his lap, letting some silence settle between them before he said, “Yeah, Jessa wasn’t impressed.”

There had not been a moment prior to this when Y/N had felt angrier and more ashamed of herself. Out of everyone she had met in her life up until that point, and probably forever, Jessa was one of the most accepting and kindest people she had ever met. The fact that she had not only disappointed Jessa but also hurt her, made Y/N so thoroughly sad that it was hard not to scream out in anger.

“Did she…” Y/N trailed off, gesturing with her hands as Harry looked up at her again. “Did she talk to you about everything when you stayed at the farm with them that day after your hypo?”

Harry shook his head. “No. She barely spent any time with me, just told Grace to keep me company while she tended to the farm. She didn’t want to let me be alone, though. She can be mad at me, but she still can’t be that mad, you know what I mean?” Harry chuckled some. “Got the biggest heart out of anyone I know, Jessa does.”

Y/N smiled a little at that. “She had to know you’d be alright.”

“I heard you went up to the lighthouse to do the weather reports.”

She bit her lips together, remembering that night in vivid detail.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much for that.”

“You couldn’t do them, and someone had to.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re making it sound like it was dreadful.”

“It was!” He laughed even more at her exclamation. “I was proper freaking out!”

“But you did an amazing job! Everything you’ve written down is correct and I can guess then that your report was as well.”

She smiled. “I hope so.”

Harry smiled back, getting up to take the cardigan off and put it on a hanger by his dresser.

“Who did it after I left? I went back to the Inn after the 9am one.”

“Dax told me you were at the lighthouse and when he got your text saying you’d be leaving, he told me, I called Trinity House, and another lighthouse keeper off-duty came and stepped in for the day.”

“Okay, good,” Y/N said. “I was scared I just left it in the hands of no one, but I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did plenty. Thank you, genuinely.” Harry looked at the clock on the wall, letting go of a long sigh before he walked over to the lamp by his sofa, turning it off.

“I…” Y/N said, cracking the knuckle of her thumb as nervousness suddenly flooded her. She had thought about this a fair amount since the party last Friday and she felt like it had to be addressed. “The piano piece you played at the end of summer party,” Y/N started, making Harry look over at her. “It was beautiful.”

“You mean your song?”

Y/N felt lightheaded at him addressing it like that.

“It kinda just came to me throughout the summer. The first bit was just us laying in the grass and as it picks up you can kinda tell how much you begin to mean to me,” he explained. “It’s nostalgic, it’s what I was going for anyway. You don’t really know if you should be happy or sad, ‘cause the memories make you feel both at the same time.” He walked over to the foyer and locked the front door, turning the lights off, closing the door leading out there, separating them from the entrance. “Played it for Grace a couple of times and I was gonna play it for you, but… well, then everything went to shit, didn’t it?”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, everything fell apart all at once.”

“It did,” he agreed, turning a lamp on top of his dresser off. “But we made it, didn’t we?”

She smiled at that.

Harry paused for few seconds, looking out through the major window at the far-end wall where he had just been seated, furrowing his brows as he thought. It was as if he had just remembered something, biting his lips together as his eyes fell to the floor again. Not knowing what was on his mind, Y/N kept her mouth shut.

“I… I can’t remember much from last Friday,” he confessed, looking back up through the window. “It’s not even a blur, it’s just… it’s not there.”

Y/N just looked at him.

“Usually what happens when my blood sugar’s low. I get dizzy, start to sweat and I shake, and I’ll be very irritable, the slightest thing will tick me off.” Harry walked over to the dining table, sitting down next to Y/N. “And, if I go into a hypo, I won’t remember the hypo, or most of the moments leading up to it. I’ll just slowly jolt out of it and realise what’s happening.”

She nodded, eyes falling to his hands that were folded together on the table before him.

“I remember your family arriving and I remember being scared out of my bloody mind when I realised what was going on- when you and Bessie fucked out of the barn. I knew something was up. I kind of had a hunch as to what it was, but… I didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t.”

She wanted to reach for his hand.

“I didn’t even know who they were, you hadn’t shown me any pictures of them, so I couldn’t tell from just looking at them, but I knew. An old married pair and that… that ruddy tosser – don’t even wanna say his name – came out of that car, and I just knew. I couldn’t let you go with them.”

“I’m sorry-“

“-No,” Harry stopped her. “No, I get why you did. Didn’t wanna cause a scene, and all that.”

She nodded. “Thought it’d be better if I went, didn’t want to fight with them in front of everyone.”

Harry looked up at her. “You fought with them?”

“Not a physical fight.”

“A man can only dream.”

She laughed.

“You should’ve levelled He Who Must Not Be Named while you still had the chance.”

She grinned at him. “When I become a dentist and he’s my patient, I’ll pull all his teeth out without any anaesthetics. How ‘bout that?”

Harry smiled back. “That’ll be a right laugh.”

She giggled, looking down at his hands again.

“What happened in the car then? You had an argument?”

Biting at her bottom lip, Y/N thought about the entire car incident before looking up into Harry’s eyes again. “I told them I wouldn’t come back to Hampshire, that I wouldn’t move in with Dominic, that-“

“-They wanted you to move in with that grotesque git?!” Harry sounded flabbergasted.

She smiled a little again. “Yes, well, Mum and Dad don’t really care what I think as long as it looks good, you know.”

Harry nodded, motioning for her to continue on explaining.

“And then I told them I was doing a UCAT exam. None of them believed it or wanted me to take it, and that’s when Gracie called,” Y/N explained. “I asked Dad to stop the car so I could go back, but he wouldn’t let me out. I kind of realised that nothing would stop him. So, when I felt him stepping on the break before he was about to turn, I told them not to follow me, and I jumped out of the car.”

Harry stared at her, mouth hanging open, blinking multiple times as if he was picturing the entire thing unfold. “You…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You jumped out of their car?”

“To get to you, yeah.”

A small breath left his lips and he continued to just look, a sort of appreciation on his face that made Y/N warm with pleasure. Again, she felt an urge to reach for his hand and hold onto him, to check if he was okay. Reliving those memories in her head and talking about them, made her also revisit the feelings of dread at the news of Harry’s hypo. Just wanting to get to him, just wanting to see he was alright.

“You’re bloody mad,” he said, a breathy chuckle following his utterance. “Brilliant, but out-of-your-mind mad at the same time.”

Y/N laughed again, smiling at Harry. “Did you feel the hypo coming on?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, scratching at his jaw as his eyes fell on the dark field beyond the window beside the kitchen table. “Yeah, I usually feel them. This time around there was so much happening all at once, I didn’t really feel it till it happened. I’m usually very good at regulating my blood sugar, not had a shock like that in years.”

She leaned her elbows on the table, taking a grip of her upper arms as she watched him talk.

“I used to not want to take my insulin pens out in front of people after we had a meal out or stuff like that, it used to make me feel very vulnerable. I used to feel exposed, as if I was showing people a secret of mine that I didn’t want them in on. It was the same when I was overweight, I didn’t wear revealing or tight-fitted clothes ‘cause I didn’t want people to think I was bigger, you know what I mean? The better I could hide it from everyone else, the easier I could hide it from myself. So, I had a few hypos when I was younger.”

Two lines appeared between his brows as he thought, Y/N wanted to reach over and stroke them away.

“I think I was just so used to hiding parts of myself – big parts – that made it almost instinctive, hiding the fact that I was diabetic. I thought there was something wrong with me at first, ‘cause this would change my entire life, you know?” He let out a chuckle. “But then I went to this event thingy where I met other kids with diabetes, and I realised that it was much more common than I’d ever thought before. Not only that, but it had been stupid of me to ever hide it, to be ashamed of it. When you’re a kid, all you want is to fit in. You don’t wanna stick out or give anyone a reason to pick on you in any way. All the bullying before had really made an impact, I never wanted to experience it again, you know?” He sighed. “Some people will bully you for anything, especially those things you cannot help.”

Y/N furrowed her brows as she listened to him.

“But I was surrounded by people who made me realise that life is too short to be embarrassed, especially about things you cannot change.  People who judge others for what they choose to do with their lives, are often the ones who still struggle to know who they are themselves, constantly critiquing others for their quirks and wrong-doings as if it’ll erase their own.”

Y/N smiled a little, nodding her head. “Yeah, my thighs have always been bigger,” she said. “I used to hate them ‘cause Mum would point them out and tell me I’d be wise to lose weight, but-“ Y/N shrugged. “-I like the way they jiggle when I walk, and though thigh chafing is an absolute pain, I still find them cute. It took me some time to realise that, of course. Especially when the environment around me keeps telling me they are. But I couldn’t care less, to be fair. Though it doesn’t feel like it at times, there are far more important things in life than an insignificant opinion. Big thighs save lives, do they not?”

The frown on Harry’s face has evaporated as Y/N spoke, a soft smile left in its wake. “Too right.”

Y/N smiled back.

“I love your thighs. They just-“ Harry made to reach for them, but stopped himself. Y/N laughed at him as he blinked himself out of some sort of trance.

“They what?”

“They’re pretty.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up instantly. No one had ever said that. That they liked her thighs. It only made those butterflies inside Y/N’s tummy flutter their wings even more wildly, not knowing how to properly act around Harry anymore.

“I was about to say something that would be a bit inappropriate,” Harry mumbled.

“What?”

“No, I can’t say. It’ll ruin the mood.”

“Nothing will ever ruin the mood, Harry.”

“Fine,” Harry hissed, inhaling quickly. “I just wanted to say that I really like the feel of them against my cheeks. They’re so soft. So… so soft.”

Her entire body went hot at that, because not only did it take her off guard, but she instantly remembered the feeling of his slight scruff against the inside of her thighs. Just thinking about it made her all dizzy with a need to feel it again. It all came sneaking up on her so suddenly that she was left biting her bottom lip, just looking at Harry as she clambered for things to say.

“See!” Harry exclaimed, chuckling. “Ruined the mood!”

“It just took me by surprise!”

“Right,” he laughed, getting up from the chair.

“I’m sorry for turning the lights out, it’s 9pm and I usually go to bed then. Gotta be up in about five hours.”

“Of course,” Y/N said, getting up. “We’ll… I’ll let you go to bed.”

“You’re not coming to bed?”

She just stared at him for a few moments. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“Assume,” Harry said, walking towards the bathroom.

Y/N laughed, following after him.

The two brushed their teeth together, Y/N using the toothbrush she had used the times before when she’d been there. Turns out, Harry had never thrown it out in case they would find themselves in this position multiple times. They took their time as Y/N ended up laughing at Harry, toothpaste dribbling down his chin. He told her that always happened and Y/N thought this was odd as Harry had a fairly big mouth.

Once again, he lent her a tee shirt. This time around, she only slept in that and her knickers, not really caring that Harry saw her in them as he’d seen her naked before. Harry only wore his boxers, putting on his sleep mask as Y/N picked up Mrs Dalloway where Harry had put it on the bed. Getting under the covers, she opened it on the page where he’d left off, smiling a bit to herself as she read a few passages. With a window open and most of the lights turned out except for the lamp on the nightstand, Harry got into bed with a grunt, pulling the covers over him. He glanced over at her, studying her face as she read, how her eyes flickered from word to word, line to line, paragraph to paragraph.

“Creep,” she mumbled, and Harry chuckled a little, getting into a comfortable position on his side so he could watch her.

“Read to me?” he asked, voice hoarse with on-coming sleep and Y/N found it so endearing and the question so familiar that a tingling sensation ran from her toes all the way up to the hair roots at the top of her head.

And so she did as he asked. She read from Mrs Dalloway, so softly and carefully that she almost lulled herself off to sleep. However, Harry was clinging to consciousness all he could. He would almost drift off but come back with a jolt, eyes wide open as if he tried to fight sleep, watching her lazily and intently, not daring to take his eyes off of her in case she wouldn’t be there when he opened them again. But it was only so much he could do, and, in the end, soft snores emitted from her companion, and Y/N put the book away, turning off the last light before joining Harry under the sheets.

It took her a while to fall asleep as well. She was just left staring at Harry, not really believing that this was all real. After everything that had happened these last few days, this almost seemed like a “too good to be true” ending and Y/N was nervous. She was content just being close to Harry like this, this was where she’d always wanted to be, but there was still a lot that needed to be addressed. The two of them had to talk about what would happen next, she needed to talk to everyone else, and she had to continue revising for the UCAT because it was now under a month till she was supposed to take the exam. The many thoughts and uncertain future kept her up like it had the last few nights, and Y/N wondered when she’d get a good night’s sleep.

She jolted awake some hours later, blinking up at the ceiling as Harry got up on his elbow and reached for his phone, turning the alarm off. Y/N watched as he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face to wake himself up a bit. She knew he couldn’t turn the lights on as it would ruin his night vision which he needed when he was out looking at the Stevenson Screen, so her eyes followed him as he got up from the bed and walked over to put the same outfit on that he’d worn before; his denim shorts and a pink tee shirt over it. He glanced over at Y/N, part of him must’ve realised she was awake.

“Alright?” he asked, voice hoarse from sleep and it made Y/N wake up even more. The sound of it made her all hot.

She nodded her head. “Your alarm clock just woke me up.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Harry said, smiling a bit. “You jumped a bit.”

She smiled back as Harry gave her a small nod, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb before he walked out of the cottage and toward the lighthouse.

She wasn’t able to fall back asleep, however. She laid awake, looking up at the ceiling overhead and thinking too many thoughts all at once, her head feeling heavier than it had that entire night. It felt like she hadn’t slept at all, yet also had the deepest sleep of her life. After all, she had been with Harry this entire time, the two of them had talked everything out, they were okay, she should’ve had an amazing night sleep. But there was something that nagged at the back of her mind, something she had not been able to stop thinking about since Harry had said it just before they went to sleep.

“I really like the feel of them against my cheeks. They’re so soft. So… so soft.”

Her thighs. Soft. He liked the feel of them against him, around his face, as his head was between her legs. And then Y/N realised why her night had been so confusing and why it had been hard to fall asleep in the first place. Her body hadn’t forgotten those words. It had reacted to them while her brain had been wistfully unaware, letting it create an ache along her skin that only Harry could do something about. Taking a deep breath, Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep again.

Her mind immediately travelled back to the times before when Harry had tasted her. Whenever they had the chance to get intimate, he had always insisted on going down on her, like it was a privilege to, like he needed to. Y/N supposed it made sense, as he had told her how much he enjoyed getting his partner off, that knowing he was getting them off got him off. Seeing how hungry he truly was to make someone squirm and cry out his name, Y/N was always astounded by how true he had been to his word. He loved it. And something about that made Y/N’s entire body heat up. She found it so hot that he would do just about anything for someone else if it meant he’d help them over the edge.

Y/N’s eyes opened again, and she turned so her face was hidden in the pillow, screaming into it at how pathetic she was being. A thought had struck her, because she was sure that if she didn’t get rid of this ache now, it’d be even harder for her to fall back asleep afterward. Laying back down on her back, her eyes found the ceiling again and she rested a hand at the very bottom of her tummy. Harry wouldn’t be back for some time still, if she was quick she’d be done by the time he got back. And if she wasn’t quick and didn’t finish, she’d just excuse herself to the bathroom and finish everything quietly in there. Yes, that was a good plan.

Lifting the band of her knickers, Y/N reached down, hoisting her legs up slightly so it’d be easier for her to access all of herself. She ran a finger from her clit and down to her hole, not surprised to find wetness pooling there already. She smeared it out over herself; flicking her fingers over her bud, down to her hole again, making sure each part of her was covered in it. Continuing on like this until she basically found her core aching with a need for her to finish, Y/N started focusing entirely on her bud.

She thought of Harry. Thought of how he had looked while he ate her out from behind, his green eyes peering over at her as he looked over her shoulder at him. And then next came an image of Harry laying on his back in the bed in the lighthouse bedroom, eyes shut tight and mouth in an O-shape, forehead creasing as Y/N sat down on him, taking him into her. A low and long rumble emitted from him, vibrating through her, and Y/N gasped. He was sweaty, needy, and so incredibly hot where he laid under her, completely at her disposal, that it made the room spin around her. It all happened so quickly and it was so easy for her to almost reach a peak that she found herself inhaling sharply, letting go of a moan she had not meant to let pass her lips.

And it had been the worst possible moment for her to moan as well, because the door into the cottage opened and Harry stepped inside. Y/N stopped herself immediately, laying back down as if nothing had happened. However, by the way Harry quickly closed the door and locked it, looking over at her, she was sure he must’ve either heard or seen something. None of them spoke for a moment as they just looked at one another, at a loss for words. Y/N’s entire body felt like it was burning, but this time it was from embarrassment and not from want. If someone could transport her into an alternate dimension where she had chosen not to masturbate in Harry’s cottage while he was out doing the weather report, that would’ve been nice.

Harry’s mouth opened and closed again as he took his shoes off, still not stepping further into the cottage than the foyer. The silence was deafening, and Y/N wanted to scream. Couldn’t he just say something? He already knew partly what she had been doing according to how pink and flabbergasted he was, the least he could do was say something. Y/N didn’t mind him hearing or seeing her. In fact, she quite liked the idea. But she hadn’t intended to make Harry uncomfortable or make him not want to come back to bed.

“Uhm…” Harry said, clearing his throat as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Do you… I can…” He let his arm fall to his side. “I’ll go sleep in the lighthouse if you want some-“

“-No,” Y/N interrupted him. “I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed… I didn’t mean…” But she, like Harry, didn’t really know what to say. What was the right thing to say in a situation like this?

“I’ll step outside if you want to finish.”

“No, I-“ Y/N couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. This whole thing was so awkward and could’ve been so easily prevented. “-It’s fine. You can come back here to bed if you want to sleep next to me.”

Harry chuckled. “Don’t think there’s anywhere I’d rather be, to be honest.”

Y/N bit her lips together, wiping her fingers on her thigh before she positioned herself on her side again. She watched as Harry too his tee shirt off, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought for a few seconds. He didn’t look at her as he asked, “Did you finish, then?”

Y/N felt like she was on fire again, looking away from Harry as he unbuckled his denim shorts. “No, but it’s-“

“-Would you let me give it a try?”

She blinked, meeting his eyes. “Pardon?”

“Let me try to make you finish.” He got into bed with her, not taking his eyes off of her. “Please?”

A chill went up her spine and her centre began to ache painfully again. Not knowing what she was doing till she was doing it, Y/N nodded. Harry removed the covers from over her and Y/N got cold at once, but the sight of Harry’s eyes travelling down her body made her forget about the lack of the duvet at once. He leaned in, kissing her lips softly. It was a lazy sort of kiss, their mouths opening up for one another slowly and their tongues tangling, their lips getting wet and small whimpers emitted from their mouths as the make out session was dragged out. Suddenly, Harry started kissing down her jaw and neck, over her breasts that were covered in his tee shirt and down her body.

“What were you thinking about while you were getting off?” Harry asked, crawling further down the bed until his face rested just above the place she needed him. She was still on her side, Harry resting his head on her right thigh while she was holding up her left one as not to rest it on his head, she’d suffocate him for sure.

“You,” she answered simply, and Harry groaned against her skin, vibrating through her entire body, and especially her clit that was already sensitive from Y/N’s earlier try.

Harry hooked his fingers around the hem of her underwear, moving his head as to get it off, but he didn’t move it past her knees.

“Don’t move these,” he said, gesturing at her underwear. “Want to feel your thighs tight around me.”

“When you were under me, that first time we had sex,” she continued to explain.

“Hmm,” Harry hummed, kissing her folds that were now exposed to him. Y/N bit her bottom lip, looking down at him where he was almost hidden between her legs. “Liked that?”

“Love it when you’re needy.”

Harry kissed her again, making Y/N gasp slightly. “Then you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve thought about you, too.”

She froze a bit, looking down at him.

“Gotten off to the thought of you. A bit of a sad wank after we shagged in the car. Bloody fucking hell,” Harry said, sounding breathless. “When you wrapped your hand around my throat… so fucking hot.”

Harry didn’t wait for Y/N to say anything however because he ran his tongue over her and she immediately moaned, her left leg shaking as the impact rocked through her. Harry buried himself there between her legs, drawing out his licks over her until he focused solely on her clit. He sucked and Y/N’s eyes fluttered close. It hadn’t been far from climax when she had tried to get herself off earlier, it was embarrassing how quickly she would come now. However, as Harry continued to suck on her and make noises as if he was enjoying himself immensely, having the meal of his life, Y/N didn’t quite care. She was losing her mind as it was, feeling Harry’s tongue and mouth on her again, a sensation she had missed.

She felt Harry’s scruff against her skin and though it tickled some, she welcomed this feeling. She couldn’t come up with a number high enough if she were to say how many times she had thought about being in this position with Harry again. Before Harry, Dominic hadn’t bothered going down on Y/N much, and this hunger of Harry’s, his desire to make her come and scream while she did, was in such drastic contrast that it was almost laughable. Harry would not rest till he knew she had had a mind-blowing orgasm, while Dom had never even asked her if she finished. She often had to do the job herself with him, but with Harry, he was the one doing that for her.

“Oh, God,” she moaned as Harry wrapped his lips around her bud again, sucking her deliciously.

She reached down, taking Harry’s hair in her hands, and biting her lips as she let out another moan. He was working hard on making this one an orgasm to remember, she could feel it. As an electric shock ran through her, making her gasp for breath, her left leg fell onto Harry’s face. About to lift it again, she heard a sound of contentment from down there. Harry liked it. He liked the feeling of her thighs around him, suffocating him almost. Another thrill ran through Y/N at the thought.

“Harry,” she gasped, her grip on his hair tightening, he hummed against her in response.

She clung to him, the feeling of fire hot tension in her core was starting to reach that point where it’d burst, and Y/N was making more and more noise the nearer it drew. Harry held onto her, slipping two fingers into her while he continued to eat her out, looking up every now and again to look at her. At the feeling of his fingers, Y/N gasped again, crying out his name as hot pleasure erupted from her core and all throughout her body, making every cell aware of what was soon to happen.

“Couldn’t sleep just now,” Harry admitted between licks and sucks. “After our chat, all I kept thinking about was the taste of your sweet cunt and your thighs around me as I eat you out.”

Y/N moaned in response, dizzy with approaching bliss.

The wet sucking sounds of Harry’s lips as well as his fingers now, almost echoed throughout the room. Something that before would’ve disgusted her previous partner, but something that made her current partner, and herself, highly aroused. She pulled at his hair as he sucked on her again, picking up the pace of his fingers, and making it hard for Y/N not to cry out yet again. She felt it then. Just there. A little bit out of reach.

“Come on, baby,” Harry said against her, voice husky. “Come loud and nice for me now.”

Y/N gasped again, Harry’s words taking her off guard. However, it didn’t take long after that. He wrapped his lips around her and sucked more forcefully this time around, making the world around Y/N shatter completely. She gasped and moaned and cried out Harry’s name as she came. Fires licking at each of her organs, making it hard for her to breathe as Harry got out from between her thighs. He got up instantly to get her something to clean up with, not letting her do it himself. As she calmed down, biting her lips as Harry laid down next to her, she saw the small start of a grin. Before she could ask what he was thinking about, Harry spoke.

“I’ve been running low on vitamin P these last few days.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before she understood, then she just looked at him. Of course. “Don’t say it.”

“Vitamin pussy.”

Y/N brought her hands up to her face to hide it from view as they both laughed. It had been such a stupid joke after such a serious and hot moment spent together that neither of them could help themselves. It was exactly what Y/N had expected from Harry and she loved it, even though it was the stupidest joke she had ever heard. Harry’s phone went off, and Y/N wondered if it was 6am already, though that wouldn’t make sense as it at just been 3. Harry sat up, looking at his phone and bringing it up to the sensor on his upper arm, clicking his tongue.

“Seems eating you out didn’t work to get my blood sugar up, it’s still low.”

Y/N laughed again, feeling a pain in her ribs as she looked up at Harry.

“I’ll go eat something ‘cause your cunt’s clearly not sweet enough, and I’ll be back for cuddles-“

“-Hey!”

“I can’t cuddle now, my blood sugar-“

“-Thought you said earlier that my cunt’s sweet.”

Harry grinned down at her, kissing her forehead. “Can’t imagine myself living without the taste of you.” And then he got up, walking over to his kitchen to make himself a toast.

Next time she woke was a little after nine when Harry returned to the cottage after another report, trying to be as quiet as possible as he made a quick brew of coffee. She opened her eyes slowly and just watched him, finding herself smiling at the sight of him standing there in the pale morning sun. He wandered over to the sofa once he had his cup, flicking through the newspaper before him and taking his time before he had to start on a new day around the Clodgy grounds. Y/N let him sit there by himself for a while, understanding that he just needed to properly wake up and relax after a night of reporting and working.

Once he was done with his coffee and closed the newspaper before him, Harry glanced over at Y/N, stopping a little when he saw her already looking at him.

“Morning,” he said, voice still a bit groggy with sleep as he hadn’t talked much still. He cleared his throat. “I, uhm…” He looked at the coffee cup, mouth open as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” He nodded, eyes landing on her again, giving her a small smile before he picked up the coffee mug and walked over to the dishwasher with it. “You want some coffee?”

“I’m good, thanks, though.”

“No problem.”

She continued to just watch him, the tiniest of smiles on her face. Harry walked about the kitchen, looking through his fridge before he rummaged through the bowl of fruit on the counter. It seemed he was busying himself as he tried to find the right words to say, stopping a few times when he thought he had it, but then starting up his hunt again.

“How’d you sleep then?”

Y/N’s smile widened, still feeling Harry’s stubble where it had been between her thighs only hours beforehand. “Great, and you?”

Harry glanced over at her, smiling as well now. “Been a while since I’ve slept that well, to be honest.”

She giggled, sitting up in bed. She noticed his eyes flickered to her chest where she was sure her nipples were visible through her shirt. His cheeks flared and he looked away before meeting her eyes again. “Same here.”

His cheeks got redder and he couldn’t help his little smile. “Right.”

She smiled, stretching where she sat in the bed. “I feel like I need a shower. Might pop by the Inn-“

“-No, you can-“ Harry didn’t finish that sentence, instead he gestured at the bathroom with a little nod, biting his lips together. “I’ll… I’ll go outside and do some chores.”

Y/N nodded, getting up from the bed. “If you’re sure.”

“You don’t even have to ask, Y/N.”

That sent a shiver up her spine and her smile widened. “I still want to make sure. You never know when you’re stepping over a line or summat.”

“Not here, never here.”

It was incredible how much Harry made her feel at once. His words made her warm with adoration, but they also made her want to run over to him and rip his clothes off. She just wanted to be close to him, to physically touch him all over again. It had been so long since she’d felt his skin, kissed him, even though it had only been last night, and she longed for it all again. She missed being close to him, missed feeling him take over each one of her senses. The feeling of him being all around her, paralysing her and making her feel full of nothing but peace and love. Was there anything that felt better than that? Than not being able to do anything anywhere completely with someone because you were so in love with them it consumed you? Wasn’t the feeling of someone you were utterly, truly in love with feeling the same way about you, wanting to be with you like you wanted to be with them? How lucky hadn’t they been to have found each other and fallen at the same time.

Y/N walked over to the bathroom, watching Harry where he was stood by the foyer. She hadn’t expected to blurt it out like she did. In fact, in retrospect, she wasn’t sorry she had suggested it, but she knew that it had taken both her and Harry off guard. However, it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t opened her mouth either. Something they both would have regretted.

“Do you wanna come?”

Harry blinked a few times as if he was certain he hadn’t heard her right.

“In the shower?”

His mouth fell open slightly and he continued to just look at her, for a second looking like he thought she was taking the piss.

“If you’re busy you don’t have to, but the offers there-“

“-Y-You want me to come-“ Harry stopped himself, furrowing his brows. “You want me to come in the shower with you?”

“Yeah, unless you’re busy. I know-“

“-No, I…” Harry inhaled slowly. “No, I want to. I’ll come.”

Y/N smiled at him, opening the bathroom door as butterflies swarmed around in her stomach. It had been a while since she’d seen him naked, and even that had been in the dark of the bedroom in the lighthouse. Now, in the pale morning light, she’d get to see all of him. And he’d get to see all of her; chunky thighs, cellulite, and the mole on the inside of her right thigh. She didn’t mind him seeing her naked.

Y/N stepped inside, looking at the shower and the small window at the top of the wall, letting some natural sunlight stream into the bathroom. Harry followed after her, closing the door after him and standing there behind her, watching her as she studied the pale yellow sunbeams make it through the window. Slowly, she turned around, looking over her shoulder at Harry and keeping eye contact till they stood face to face. He was still watching her, studying her face and her body, taking his time and clearly trying not to make her feel uncomfortable at him taking her in like this. Reaching for the hem of Harry’s tee shirt, she brought it over her head and let it fall to the floor beside her, feeling an undeniable heat pull towards the bottom of her tummy as Harry’s eyes fell to her exposed breasts. He was paying so close attention to her as if just being here with her, getting a chance to look at her like this, was the greatest privilege one could ask for. Y/N’s body felt hot under his stare and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling a sort of powerful only Harry was able to make erupt inside her.

He tugged his own tee shirt over his head, letting it fall not far from where she’d placed hers, his broad and tanned chest exposed to her one more time. Like he had done to her, she took her time studying him. She took in the hair travelling from his navel to below his underwear, his outlined pecks and the soft tummy underneath them. Seeing him like that, glowing in the light of the sun, had something inside her scream with anticipation. Though nothing was set in stone to happen, she could still feel an instant intense electricity forming in the air between them.

Y/N reached for her knickers and Harry’s lips parted, inhaling sharply as if he’d just been brought back from an extraordinary trance. She pulled them down, revealing herself completely to him and the breath Harry had let enter his body just seconds before, left his lips in a shaky exhale once she stood upright again. His eyes moved over her, finally able to see all of her and in the light of day. Y/N’s heart beat hard inside her chest, looking at Harry look at her, feeling every emotion she held for him all at once. Once their eyes met, she let hers fall to his usual denim shorts, then meet his eyes again.

He understood right away, reaching for the button and the zipper, taking both his shorts and boxers off in one go. Y/N tried not to get visibly excited at the sight, but she could already see the hint of arousal on Harry, something that made the heat inside her own body intensify. Their eyes met again, and though she would’ve usually seen a slight blush across Harry’s cheeks, it wasn’t there just then. No, he seemed confident enough, ready enough, content enough not to feel embarrassed about anything.

She took a single step back before turning around, drawing the frosted shower door aside so she could step inside. Turning on the water, Y/N squealed a little as cold water came pouring down over her at first, taking a huge step to the other side of the shower so the water wouldn’t hit her. She was now standing in the open doorway into the shower, looking out at Harry who was smiling, chuckling some to herself at her instant reaction to the water. She wrinkled her nose at him before reaching her hand out, feeling at the water to see if it was a comfortable enough temperature now. When it was, she walked back over, standing under the shower head as she felt footsteps behind her on the shower floor, then the door sliding shut.

She turned around when she was fully wet, looking over at Harry as he just stood there, watching her intently. Biting her lip, she stepped aside, letting him slide past her and into the stream of the shower. She took his place, watching Harry now as he let the water run over him, a content sigh leaving his lips as if this was something he had really needed. Standing there, she wanted to reach forward and touch him. His back muscles, plump arse, and the scar on the back of his thigh. It wasn’t big, but it looked to have happened a long time ago. Maybe when he was little, having fallen off his bike or done something stupid kids often did while playing.

Harry picked up the shampoo bottle, letting her slide past him again to shampoo her hair. She waited for him to hand it over to her, but instead of putting the bottle back in her hand, Harry opened the shampoo and then put the bottle on the small sill beside the window. The small of fresh papaya wafted through the air, and a second later, she felt fingers in her hair and a hot sensation ran down her spine, resting at her core but heating up her entire body. She closed her eyes, letting the feeling of Harry take over each one of her senses. Humming contentedly, she let Harry massage her scalp, feeling herself relax completely for the first time in a long while. He pressed against her backside, not at all shy now that she felt him against her bum, harder than he had been when they undressed before one another. She felt like falling to the floor, the intensity of anything but the moment right now dissipating completely.

Something soft was pressed against her shoulder, then a bit further up towards her neck. Harry’s tender kisses sent shocks of great pleasure throughout her body, making it once again hard to remain standing. She suddenly heard some coughing and a small “ew”, and when she turned around, Harry was grimacing.

“Shampoo,” he explained, making Y/N laugh.

“You didn’t have to lick the shampoo.”

“It’s all over you now, innit?” he said, making both of them laugh again. “Was trying to be proper romantic, but fucked myself over with that one.”

“Nah, I liked it.”

“That I ate shampoo?”

She laughed. “Well, you didn’t eat it. At least not on purpose.”

He chuckled. “Real papaya tastes better than shampoo papaya. I’m a survivor of the papaya shampoo-“

“-Oh, don’t be dramatic.” She turned around, smiling over at him. “It was brave of you to go through all that for a shoulder kiss.”

“I’d go through a lot more than just eating shampoo to give you another shoulder kiss.”

Y/N laughed, getting the conditioner. She was about to put some in her hand when Harry took it from her. He shook his head, and she pretended to roll her eyes, even though she actually thoroughly enjoyed how much he wanted to take care of her. He ran his hands through her hair, making sure not to let any conditioner touch her scalp. While doing this, he planted more kisses along her jaw, even daring to kiss her neck and jawline, now not at all intimidated by the shampoo. There was simply no way not to smile and feel her entire body buzz with adoration as Harry did this.

When he stopped, he put his hands under the stream to get all the shampoo and conditioner off. Though she usually let the shampoo and conditioner stay in her hair a bit, she let it be this time around. Stepping under the stream from the shower head, she closed her eyes and rinsed her hair thoroughly. She ran her hands through her hair, closing her eyes. She knew Harry was watching her and she loved that he was. The steam from the shower along with Harry’s not-so-subtly studying every single part of her naked body, made her hotter than she’d been in a while.

It happened so suddenly it made her gasp. Once she opened her eyes to look at him again, her hair free of shampoo and conditioner, Harry took the step toward her. He grabbed the back of her neck and brought her to him, kissing her fiercely. Though it had startled her at first, she melted into the kiss right away. Though they had kissed only last night, it still felt like an eternity ago, and she had missed him like this. She missed kissing him and knowing that it would lead somewhere fantastic, just like last night’s kiss had felt. Maybe that one had been even more intense than this one because it held the promise of a future, but this kiss felt very similar. This one was purposeful. They both knew there was a future now, but they had no idea where it’d go, only that in this very moment, no matter what, they wanted to spend this one moment with each other. And they wanted to take great advantage of that.

Harry pressed her against the wall, moaning into her as she gripped his back, bringing her closer to him. She tilted his head and kissed him harder, something that had a short breath leaving his nose, a slight twitch against Y/N’s core and lower belly.

“Open up for me,” she whispered against him and he did as she said without hesitation. Their tongues found one another instantly and fantastic bliss ran through Y/N’s body to the point where she completely forgot where she was. The kisses grew more frantic, wetter, deeper. She pulled away at one point, taking a grip of his hair, tilting his head so it’d fit better against hers, before she kissed him again. Harry smiled against her lips at that, getting harder against her as she took control of him, making him listen to her and what she wanted. The mere fact that this was turning him on turned Y/N on, and she continued to take the dominant role. Something both of them loved.

She lifted her leg and Harry took a grip of her knee, bringing it up to his hip. He instantly leaned more into her, his erection against her centre, making her grip on his hair tighten. Slowly, making a tingle of excitement run through her veins, Harry grinded against her. She couldn’t help her moan, begging him to do it again as she squeezed his shoulder. He did, letting a small whimper pass from his lips and into her mouth, desperate for an actual feel of her. Y/N adjusted her hips some, making it so that when Harry grinded against her hungrily the third time, a shot of pleasure erupted from her clit.

“Oh, my God,” she said, having missed the effect Harry had on her body like this.

He kissed along her neck, sucking lightly at the tip of her jaw. “You’re so hot.”

She smiled, closing her eyes as Harry kissed her collarbone. “It’s all you, you make me act like this.”

Harry stopped right above her heart, kissing her breast. “Don’t give me that sort of credit.”

She giggled. “Then what should I say?”

Harry kissed along her neck again, a thrill of ecstasy shooting straight for the spot between Y/N’s legs. “I’m not one to tell you, am I?”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, looking down at Harry and waiting for him to reach her shoulder before she uttered, “No, you’re not.”

She could tell Harry loved that, gripping her knee harder as he rested his forehead against hers. “Are you wet for me like I’m hard for you?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Why don’t you find out?”

Harry bit his bottom lip at that, she could feel his heart beating hard against his chest and against hers. She swore they beat to the same rhythm. He reached down between them, making sure to hold their eye contact as he reached for her centre, eyes hooded with lust. Once his middle and ring finger came into contact with her wetness, he let out a strangled moan. He slid his fingers over her, pushing them slowly into her and out again, making the ache of her core hurt with need. The teasing would surely kill her at one point.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he mumbled. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

“Taste me.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, her commands making every single hair on his body stand on end in excitement. Running his fingers over her again, he pushed them into her once more, pulling them out to circle her clit. She moaned, not able to help herself, and the sound of her pleasure brought Harry his, moaning along with her. He brought his fingers up, placing them inside his mouth and keeping eye contact with Y/N as he wrapped his lips around his fingers, sucking off her juices. Finding this so hot her entire body began to ache for him, Y/N brought him to her again, kissing him hard. Once again, they lost themselves in each other’s lips, tongues, and the taste. Y/N assumed she was tasting herself on him, but it soon disappeared as the kiss deepened, becoming hungrier than any of the other kisses.

“Get a condom,” she said at last, and in his haste to do just that, Harry almost slipped on the slippery shower floor. Y/N laughed, holding onto her stomach as Harry’s life flashed before his eyes, getting out of the shower to rummage through his bathroom drawer for his condoms. He was back not long after, shielding his covered-up cock from the water as he made his way over to her, putting the lube on the windowsill.

“Think my near death is funny, do you?”

“Hilarious.”

Harry laughed at that, pressing his forehead against hers again as he got a hold of her leg, bringing it up to his hip again.

Harry’s other hand ran from her collarbone, over her chest, and down to her centre, looking into her eyes the entire time. He helped angle her right, licking his lips before meeting her eyes again, resting his forehead once again against hers. They looked down as Harry positioned himself at her opening, Y/N averting her eyes after a little while just so she could look at him when they joined together again. He glanced up at her again as well, holding onto his shaft till most of him was inside her, then gripping her hips hard. They both moaned, unable to say another word as a heavenly feeling swept over them.

A gentleness, vulnerability, warmth lingered there between them as Harry moved in and out of her at a slow pace, it was a sort of feeling that one couldn’t properly speak of, it was too powerful for that. What transpired between them as Harry pounded into her, made her arch her back, was so much more than anything that had ever existed before this. There was an emotion yet to be described, yet to be given a word, that they created as they stood there in that shower, the lazy sunbeams shining in on them and the hot shower pouring down Harry’s back. Y/N hummed in contentment as Harry’s hips met hers, loving the feeling of him there, colliding with her once again.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbled, keeping his eyes on Y/N at all times. He brought her knee further up his hips, making it easier for him to fuck her right, and while doing that, spreading her wider for him as well. At this, she moaned loudly, digging her nails into the skin of his back. With that, Harry picked up the pace a little more, their wet bodies colliding in a rough yet delicious rhythm that had the both of them gasping for breath.

Y/N felt something inside her core, something that was tensing up and making it harder for her to concentrate on much else besides the heat of it and Harry in front of her. Harry continued to rock into her, their bodies crashing hard and loud. The sound of flesh against flesh, their rapid breathing, and the occasional moan was their entire universe in those blissful minutes.

His grip on her tightened, and Y/N couldn’t help herself, letting go of a loud cry of Harry’s name, the quick strokes bringing her closer to her orgasm dangerously fast. She gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, making Harry moan loudly against her, the sort that had him gasping afterwards.

Y/N wondered how she had ever thought that Harry’s feelings for her hadn’t been genuine. She wondered how she had not seen it sooner. Not only how Harry felt for her, but how she felt for him as well. It had taken her so long just to realise that the reason why she was so protective of him, why she wanted to be near him, and why she always felt like her breath got clogged somewhere in her throat when she saw him, was because she was falling in love with him. It had crept up on her so slowly, so powerfully, that she hadn’t realised it till it was too late. But regardless, Y/N was sure that even if she had recognised that she was falling in love with Harry while it was actually happening versus how she realised after it had all happened, she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. She was where she was supposed to be. Where the kindness she had sent out into the universe had brought her; where destiny had always envisioned her. With Harry. In St Ives.

She leaned forward, softly biting onto his bottom lip and it was like seeing his pupils dilate.

“Fuck me,” he mumbled, making Y/N grin.

She arched her back, the tenseness in her core tightening. The edges of her vision blurred as she watched Harry. As they came together, as they looked into each other’s eyes, Y/N knew that nothing would be better than this. She felt Harry everywhere. Felt him, smelled him, tasted him, heard him. He was everywhere all at once, and it was exactly as Y/N wanted it. She wanted him to leave more pieces of himself inside her, feel him shape her into a better version of herself, help her along the path to becoming the person she was supposed to be. There was a piece of him in each one of her molecules, and though she was sure this was an aspect of her life that would never truly dissipate, she knew Harry would always be with her. Wherever she went, whoever she was with, he had helped her on her way to discover herself, and for that she would always be grateful.

They kissed one another one more time, Y/N moaning against him as he thrust into her, this one rougher than all the ones before. Breaking away, they looked into each other’s eyes as she dug her nails into his scalp and shoulder. She came. The tenseness in her core erupted and she felt the effect like an earthquake all over her body. She was gasping, moaning, and looking into his eyes as pure bliss washed over her. The leg Harry was holding shook and it was a wonder the other one hadn’t given out from under her. She held onto him as she came down, smiling at him as if she couldn’t believe they’d just done that.

Y/N wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, holding onto him as he pounded into her, the veins in his neck popping out. She knew he was close, saw it and felt it. As his pace picked up some more, though she was still incredibly sensitive, Y/N felt a familiar burn herself. This had never happened before, she usually needed some time to gather herself and to not be as sensitive down there before she could go for a round two, but something about today was different. She gasped as Harry hit a particular spot and he looked into her eyes, refusing to keep them close as he had that last minute.

“Harry,” she moaned, making him grab her boob, squeezing it seductively.

Suddenly, there was a sound coming from outside. The two of them had been too caught up in one another and their little moment that they hadn’t heard the approaching car. Though Y/N quickly realised what was happening, Harry continued to fuck her, oblivious until a car door closed with a bang outside in the courtyard. He removed his face from where he had rested his forehead against hers, trying to peek out of the foggy window.

“Dax,” Harry said. “Think the rest as well.”

“Everyone’s here?!” Y/N hissed. “Everyone’s outside?!”

“Looks like it,” Harry said, turning back to her. “Just-“ He put one hand over her mouth. “Be quiet.”

“I’m not the one that needs to be quiet,” she said against his palm, but her voice was muffled by him covering her mouth. “You’re loud.”

“I’m not bloody loud, what’re you talking about?” Harry furrowed his brows.

Y/N chuckled. “Who cares? Just get a move on so we can go out there.”

Harry smiled and pressed his forehead against hers again, gripping her thigh harder as he began to make as small and quick movements as possible, trying not to make any noise. His pace, his flow, felt heavenly. Her eyes fluttered shut, digging her nails into Harry’s back. By the looks of it, this exact angle and tempo was doing it for Harry as well. He looked at her as he neared his climax, doing as Y/N said and trying to keep his mouth shut and moans to a minimum. She could tell he was struggling, and she squeezed his shoulder in encouragement as he continued to barely make any noise.

“Harry?!” Dax called from the front door, walking into the cottage. More footsteps sounded behind him and Harry stopped abruptly, looking over at the door through the blurry glass of the shower door. “Mate, where are you?”

Harry and Y/N looked at one another, eyes wide as they listened for more movement outside.

“Found him, Dax, Jo?” Fatima called from outside, her footsteps along with, what Y/N could only assume, Amir and Ellie nearing the cottage.

“No, he’s not here,” Jo answered.

“Where the fuck could he have gone? Not like he’s supposed to be anywhere else, is it?” Dax asked no one in particular. “He wasn’t in the lighthouse either?”

“No, but he just did his 9am,” Amir answered.

“What the fuck, then,” Dax said. The door into the bathroom burst open and Y/N tried not to scream. Harry pressed his body against Y/N’s so Dax wouldn’t see any of her. “Haz-“ Everything was disturbingly silent for a single second before Dax realised what he must be looking at. “OH!”

“A bit preoccupied at the moment, Dax!” Harry shouted out at his best mate where he still stood in the bathroom doorway.

“Right! Sorry!” Dax slammed the bathroom door shut. Harry and Y/N looked at one another, both giggling and doing their best not to be heard by the others outside. “We’ll just fuck off outside then!”

There was a slight silence outside in the cottage till Ellie finally asked, “What’s going on?”

“Harry and Y/N,” Dax explained. “They’re in the shower.”

“What?!” exclaimed Fatima.

“In the shower, or in the shower shower?” Amir asked, it sounded like he was wiggling his eyebrows along with his question.

“Mate. No,” Jo said.

“Would you lot mind buggering off for a bit?!” Harry shouted, making a flurry of footsteps move hastily towards the front door. They could all be heard outside, chatting excitedly and fast. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed, making Y/N laugh.

“Right,” Harry said, bringing her leg higher up as to get better access. She gasped. “Where were we?”

She bit her lips, grinning at him. Harry started at the same pace as before, fucking her quickly and with small movements as not to be heard, not sure how well the sound of their wet bodies slamming together would carry. Y/N reached for the lube, making Harry let out a small breath as if he had completely forgotten about it, but appreciated that Y/N had. Once again, she had to angle herself so best to access his bum, and when she did, she slid her fingers slowly into him.

“Fuck,” Harry hissed.

He continued with his small and quick movements as to make it easier for Y/N to keep her fingers in. She curled them slightly upward, watching as Harry’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Y/N,” he moaned, voice trembling slightly. She kept her fingers like that, feeling that, with each of Harry’s movements, he ignited the fire inside, making her heat up all over again. Harry’s whimpers got more frequent and desperate, not fully knowing what to do with himself as his orgasm got closer and closer.

“Come on, baby,” she mumbled, and that was all it took. Her calling him that. Finally, Harry was brought towards climax. He came looking into Y/N’s eyes, everyone and everything else completely forgotten as he filled the condom, moaning her name and gripping her body harder. She had felt the oncoming second orgasm herself, and though she hadn’t thought Harry would’ve noticed her like that, he had.

“I can go down on you,” he offered, pulling himself out of her. “We can-“

“-No,” Y/N laughed. “They’re waiting for you.”

“For us,” Harry corrected her, getting up as he had hunched down, ready to make her come a second time. “They’re waiting for us.”

Y/N smiled at him, stroking his cheek as he stood before her. He leaned in, kissing her softly on the lips as they relished in the last of their moment together.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” he said against her lips, making Y/N’s tummy, which was already filled with butterflies, tickle with anticipation.

“I’ll just wash up.”

“Alright, I’ll wait.”

Harry dried himself off as quickly as possible, running out into the living room to get a new pair of boxers and jeans along with Y/N’s dress and jumper. He put on his underwear and jeans, then picked up the tee shirt Y/N had been wearing the bed the night before, making a note to sniff it in front of Y/N just so he could watch her laugh at him. She got dressed as well, suddenly filled with dread for what was waiting for them outside. Once in the foyer, Harry pulled her closer, kissing her one more time, smiling against her. She giggled, kissing him again before they both turned to the door and walked outside.

Everyone was sat on the grass beside the lighthouse, not too close to the cliff, but close enough so that the wind was rather harsh. As Harry and Y/N approached, Fatima looked over her shoulder, smiling at them before she alerted the others, making them all stand up. Y/N felt a tenseness in her chest, terrified of what would happen the second they started chatting. She hadn’t forgotten the look of hurt on Dax’s face, or how hurt Fatima had been, or how Jo looked between Harry and Y/N, refusing to believe what they were saying was true.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Harry asked once they were close enough to talk.

Amir’s eyes fell on Y/N, giving her a smile before he looked at Harry. Jo opened their mouth, crossing their arms over their chest. “Think you got some explaining to do. Both of you.”

Harry looked at Y/N who glanced back at him, but she quickly stared at the others, feeling her hands go all clammy.

“Well,” Harry started, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s probably what you think.”

“What’s that?” asked Dax.

“I’m in love with Y/N,” Harry said, as if it was the simplest and most profound fact of the world. “And she’s in love with me.”

Dax looked between them, studying each of their faces. “Alright,” he said, pausing for two seconds. “Why bother lying, then?”

“That’s… That’s not a lie.”

“I didn’t mean lie about that, why did you have to lie about being a couple when you were on your way to become one in the first place?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “It’s not that simple, though. We didn’t know we’d end up caring for one another like that when we first met.”

“Dax,” Fatima said, raising her eyebrows at him. “I know you’re hurt Harry lied to you-“

“-Nah, I’m not hurt. I’m fuming.”

Harry let out a huff. “Thought you were over it, mate.”

“But I’m not.” Dax looked Harry dead in the eyes. “Look, I’m happy for you. Genuinely, I am. You more than anyone else deserve to find love, especially when that someone you fall in love with is Y/N, yeah? But…” Dax trailed off, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m still hurt that my best friend lied to me. I tell you everything, Haz.”

“I wanted to tell you, Dax. Really.”

“But?”

“But you love to gossip, mate! You’re just like your mum!”

“I wouldn’t have told people about this, Harry.”

Harry sighed. “Listen, be mad, yeah? Take your time to be mad. I’m sorry.” He looked at all his other friends as well. Amir, Fatima, Jo, Ellie. “I’m sorry for lying about this. It was a stupid thing to lie about, but I was desperate and before either of us really knew what was going on, we were just fake dating.”

Ellie nodded along, smiling a little at both Y/N and Harry’s wet hairs. “But you’re not fake dating anymore… right?”

Harry smiled as well, looking at Y/N. “No.”

“Aww, you two!” Fatima exclaimed.

“We haven’t discussed it yet, she told me yesterday that she won’t leave St Ives, so…” Harry shrugged, holding up his hand to stop Fatima, Amir, Ellie and Jo from celebrating. “It’s not official.”

“But you fancy each other, yeah?” Amir grinned. “That’s enough, innit?”

“So it’s really not fake this time?” Dax asked, looking at Harry as he spoke. “You’re genuinely in love?”

“Mate,” Harry said, a red colour crossing his cheekbones. “You just saw us shagging in the shower.”

Jo howled with laughter and Ellie giggled, looking over at Fatima who was having trouble holding Amir up as he was pretending to faint from shock. Even Dax had trouble not laughing at that, a single chuckle escaping his lips as he studied Y/N and Harry who were both flustered, hair still a mess from just having gotten out of the shower. Harry took a step closer to Y/N, nudging her with his hips. Once their eyes met, Y/N was taken back to their shared moment in the shower, blushing furiously again.

“Alright,” Dax said, smiling at them. “I guess I was just offended.”

“Don’t make this about yourself, bruv,” Amir said, walking over to stand between Y/N and Harry, flinging his arms over their shoulders. “Everything’s back to normal, innit?”

“Well, a new normal,” Harry pointed out. “We still have to figure out a lot of things.”

“Ah, well, that’ll come easy,” Amir smiled. “Bottom line, for us, nothing’s really gonna change. We always thought you were together, and now you’re actually together.”

Y/N looked over at Fatima who shrugged, clearly agreeing with her cousin.

Amir patted them each on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “We came here to check if Harry was alright. Haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, mate.”

“No, I’ve…” Harry’s eyes flickered over to Y/N before he met Amir’s eyes again. “Been a bit… well, sad.”

“That’s okay,” Amir said. “You feeling better now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry smiled, looking at Y/N again. “Loads.”

“Wicked.” Amir gave Harry a pat on the back. “Pub, anyone?”

“It’s not even noon,” Fatima said, raising her eyebrows at Amir.

“Who cares? Everyone’s about to go back to their everyday lives, think we should just spend a day doing nothing in particular, don’t you?” Amir looked around the ground with his mouth agape in anticipation.

“Actually,” Harry said, looking apologetically at Amir. “Y/N and I gotta go to the farm real quick.”

Amir’s face fell. “Why?”

“We just need to talk to Jessa, Gracie, lolo, and uncle Timmy. You know…” Harry motioned with his arms before him. “About what Y/N and I did.”

“Ahh!” Amir gave Harry’s back a pat, nodding his head. “Yeah, alright.”

Y/N’s heart fell again. She hadn’t even thought of that. They would have to face Jessa and Grace as well, and apologise for what they had done. Y/N wouldn’t be mad at Jessa if she didn’t forgive her or Harry for this. After all, they had lied to her all summer, not thinking that they’d end up actually falling in love with one another in the end.

“You’ll pop by later, then? Balcony?” Dax asked, Harry nodding as an answer that they would. “Wicked! See you in an hour or summat then.”

Y/N and Harry watched as the others made their way over to Dax’s car, Amir jumping onto Jo’s back and Ellie laughing her ass off when Jo almost face-planted from the unexpected impact. Harry walked over to Y/N, raising his eyebrows slowly as if to ask

Hadn’t been there since everything had happened. This was where her family had shown up and where Dominic had dragged Harry to the ground. The thought made her sick. Her family had all been here and she had let them treat Harry like that. Taking a deep breath, Y/N just looked at the farm, feeling as if she should just turn back around and walk away from it all. She didn’t deserve to be close to Jessa, or Grace, or lolo-

“Flower?”

She looked at Harry who was watching her with big eyes.

“You alright?”

“No. Not really, no.”

Harry nodded slightly. “Yeah, it’s… I mean, it’s gonna be alright. I know it is. But Jessa… Blimey, I hate disappointing Jessa.”

“Has she given you a hard time before for disappointing her?”

“Yeah, and it was just as you can expected it to,” Harry chuckled. “She would give me the cold shoulder and make me feel bad till I finally gave in and apologised.”

“Oh, my word, Harry, we should’ve done this sooner-“

“-We weren’t on speaking terms then, were we?” Harry reasoned. “We have spent days trying to talk, and now we have. We’ve always needed to do this together. Don’t think it would’ve been completely alright till you came with to apologise as well, Jessa wouldn’t think so.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I-“

“-Harry?”

They both turned to look at Jessa as she walked out of the hen house, lolo’s straw hat on her head and walking slowly, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Y/N?”

Hearing Jessa say her name was surreal, especially after everything. She didn’t sound mad; she didn’t sound disappointed. In fact, she just sounded confused, as if the sight before her was the most peculiar yet familiar thing in the world. Not wanting to postpone this any longer, Y/N started walking towards the farm, Harry following close behind her. As they walked through the gate, Jessa stopped walking, holding onto her basket filled with eggs as she watched them move to her. The door to the main house opened, Grace and lolo along with Tim stood there, eyes on Harry and Y/N as they stopped in front of Jessa. They were sure the others could hear them, Grace even walked a little closer as if she wanted to run to Harry and Y/N, but stopped herself as she noticed they were directing all their attention at Jessa.

“How are you feeling?” Jessa asked Harry, eyes scanning him from head to toe. “Not had any other hypo situations?”

“No,” Harry answered quickly. “No, I’ve been alright.”

Jessa nodded, eyes falling on Y/N. “They’ve gone back to Hampshire?”

Jessa didn’t have to say who she was talking about for Y/N to understand completely. The chat she had with Jessa Tuesday the week before still fresh in her mind. Y/N nodded as an answer to Jessa’s question. “They left a few days ago.”

“Good,” Jessa answered curtly. “Didn’t like them. Quite rude of them to just show up to a party like that unannounced.”

“Yeah, they’ve never much considered other people’s feelings.”

A small smile flickered over Jessa’s lips. “No, I could tell.”

Y/N smiled back a little, looking up to meet Harry’s eyes. She could tell he was about to speak, but she beat him to it, whipping her head in Jessa’s direction again. “We’re so sorry.” She glanced at Grace, lolo, and Tim as well. “So sorry.”

Harry looked away from Y/N at the others. “It’s all my fault.”

“Harry-“

“-No, Y/N, it is.” Harry let out a huge sigh, meeting Jessa’s eyes. “I’m sorry, nanay. I’ve always told you everything. Always. But you were fussing so much about how I was lonely at Clodgy, something I wasn’t. I was perfectly okay up there by myself, I like my own company. Ever since Emilia… well, I like being alone. But… But…” Harry stopped, growing red in the cheeks. “You know… I thought if I pretended to have a girlfriend, you’d get off my back a bit.” He let out a chuckle. “I should’ve known better, though. You just want what’s best for me, so you want to know every detail of everything.”

Jessa was eerily silent, not moving an inch.

“And I know it was a fucking daft move, alright? Well out of line for me to lie about something like that, a-and… and…” Harry looked down at Y/N. “And especially stupid of me to drag Y/N into it. She had no idea what she did when she went along to pretend to be my girlfriend on Fore Street that day.”

“Hang on,” Grace said, frowning. “We met Y/N on Fore Street.”

“Yeah, that was the first time I met Y/N myself.”

“That same day?” Tim asked.

“Yes.”

“And you just asked someone to me your fake girlfriend to further your lie?” Tim still sounded confused. Y/N’s palms were getting clammy.

“Y-Yes.” Harry nodded his head. “It’s entirely my fault.”

“Harry, no.” Y/N looked up at him. “I helped.”

“It wasn’t your idea, was it?”

Y/N was about to protest, said that it didn’t matter, but Harry went on.

“I went to the Inn to tell Y/N not to worry about this fake relationship of ours, ‘cause… I couldn’t keep it from you, Jessa. I couldn’t lie to you like that.” Harry sighed again. “But you had already told everyone, so we would’ve looked well stupid to just tell everyone that we lied, it wasn’t true, we weren’t a couple.”

“As opposed to everyone finding out at the party last Friday that it had been fake all this time?” Jessa asked, making both Harry and Y/N shut up.

A small silence stretched out then, when the only sound they heard was the wind blowing through the trees around them and the hens in the hen house. Y/N looked around at everyone before her, trying to see all of their reactions. No one spoke for what felt like a century, and it was hard to see what any of them thoughts because panic was starting to rise within Y/N. Did they all hate her? No one was saying anything, did they really detest her? What her and Harry had done, they’d never forgive them, would they? Y/N felt lightheaded, sure that she had never been anticipating an answer from someone as much as she was anticipating these people before her.

Suddenly, Jessa took a small step forward, her head cocked and eyes flicking between Y/N and Harry. She looked thoughtful, though no anger could be detected on her face.

“You know,” Jessa started, clutching the egg basket a little closer to her. “I never once doubted you two weren’t an item. Not once.”

Harry’s cheeks got redder, eyes falling to the ground.

“But I don’t think that’s something to be embarrassed about, Harry,” Jessa said, voice very soft all of a sudden and Y/N felt like crying. “I could tell there was something between you two that I hadn’t seen between you and Emilia, Harry. After Emilia left,” Jessa said, looking at Y/N now. “Harry was very sad at first, but I had never seen him as happy as that time after all that mourning. He was so, so happy. Just as he deserved. Wasn’t easy, losing his father… or my husband, like that.”

Y/N nodded, understanding that it must’ve been a grief unlike anything anyone would ever have the capability to explain.

“But the second you came into his life - when you arrived in St Ives, to be more specific, ‘cause you were kind of there while Harry lied about having a girlfriend – but when you came into his life… something in him shifted. He was still happy, still himself, but it comes easier to him now to articulate himself. To find his words. He had huge trouble with that before. Always had. Words, new beginnings, new opportunities, it’s all come easier to him since you came into his life. And that-“ Jessa pointed her finger at Harry’s chest as she met his eyes again. “-That is why I’m not mad now.”

Harry blinked.

“Whatever is going on between you two, it’s not fake. If you’re saying that, if you’ve ever said that or believed that, you’ve lied to yourselves, not to anyone else,” Jessa said. “Yes, you’ve lied to us about being in a relationship. Yes, it was a tragic thing to do.”

Harry winced at her words, nodding his head. Y/N knew she must’ve had the same reaction, but she didn’t know or care what she looked like just then. All she cared about was Jessa, Grace, lolo, and Tim.

“But,” Jessa continued. “I would’ve been mad if you two weren’t in love at all. I’m disappointed it took you two this long to admit it, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re both as oblivious as each other.” She let out a sigh. “You’re forgiven.” She met Y/N’s eyes, smiling. “Both of you.”

Y/N bit her lip as it started to tremble, everything she had felt these last few minutes finally leaving her. Relief and peace finally flooded through her veins.

“I meant what I said that day, Y/N,” Jessa said, taking Y/N’s hand with her free one. “You are loved unconditionally here, with us.”

Y/N nodded her head, squeezing Jessa’s hand.

“Right,” Jessa grinned, looking up at Harry. “Free for a cuppa, my lovelies?”

“No, uhm…” Harry ran a hand through his hair, smiling down at Jessa. “We’re going to the pub with the gang. Getting a quick pint in before summer ends.”

“How nice,” Jessa said. “You two will pop by tomorrow then?”

“Yes,” Y/N answered, and Jessa’s smile widened. The older woman took a few steps toward Y/N, wrapping her arm around her in a hug. Y/N hugged her back, forcing back the tears she felt pressing on.

“We’ll see you then,” Jessa said, going in to hug Harry next.

“See you!” Grace grinned as she ran over, arms outstretched for Y/N. Y/N giggled, hoping no one heard her strangled sob. She bent down, hugging Grace to her, closing her eyes as Grace’s hold on Y/N tightened. Lolo and Tim came over as well, both smiling at Y/N and giving her hugs, patting and stroking her back, as if they both knew how much she needed it. Harry and Y/N said the last few goodbyes to their family before they walked over to Harry’s van, sitting back there in silence.

Harry suddenly turned to look at Y/N, leaning over to take her face in his hands so roughly and unexpectedly that Y/N squealed. He kissed her firmly on the lips, leaving small pecks all over her face as a grin erupted across his lips. Y/N laughed, holding onto his wrists and closing her eyes until he stopped. All the way to The Balcony Bar and Kitchen, Harry held onto Y/N’s hand, clutching onto it between changing gears, never once letting go voluntarily. Y/N thought this was quite funny, but she didn’t say this. She appreciated how he wanted to stay close to her all he could, whenever he could, just as he had said last night at 3am.

The Balcony Bar and Kitchen was an old pub, but at the far end of the pub, the entire wall facing the beach was made out of tall windows. Y/N could make out their little gang sitting at one of the tables, talking merrily amongst themselves as her and Harry strolled up to the bar.

“What do you fancy?” Harry asked her, standing so close that their sides were flush against one another. Y/N suddenly wanted to be back in the Clodgy cottage again so Harry could make up for before, as he had promised her he would once they were back there later. A chill went up her spine and she smiled, loving the fact that she could stand there and imagine a future, no matter how near or far away it was, where Harry was present.

“Whatever you’re having,” Y/N said simply.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Really sure?”

“Really, really sure, in fact.”

Harry chuckled, ordering two pints from the bartender who had come up to them just then.

“Y/N.”

Once again, Y/N felt like she could’ve done without hearing that voice again. She thought she would’ve heard it for the last time at the end of summer party, but she guessed she hadn’t been that lucky. Looking to her right, she saw Emilia standing there. Harry tensed to her left, watching as the bartender made them their pints.

“Could we have a chat?” Emilia asked, taking Y/N completely off guard. It took her a few tries to get the correct words out, but Y/N managed to utter a quick, “Yeah,” to which Emilia smiled gratefully.

“I’ll take these to our table,” Harry said to Y/N, giving Emilia a smile before he walked back over to their little group by the window.

Emilia inhaled slowly, looking down at the bar counter before she met Y/N’s eyes again. “It’s been a weird summer, hasn’t it?”

Y/N was still not sure what was going on or why Emilia was trying to make small talk. If she wanted to say something to Y/N, then she should just say it right away. Y/N had people she’d rather be with.

Emilia must’ve sensed Y/N’s confusion at what was going on, so she sighed and turned to look at Y/N fully. “I just wanna talk about everything. I could tell there was a bit of tension between us at the end of summer party.”

Y/N rested her elbow on the counter beside her. “Yeah, there was.”

“I just wanted to talk that out, ‘cause I don’t know what you think, but it’s a bit stupid to have gotten off on the wrong foot like this when we barely know each other, isn’t it?”

Y/N took a moment to study Emilia, trying to decipher if the words she had just spoken were genuine. “Yeah.”

“I came back from Munich and found out that Harry had a girlfriend, and I was delighted. He-“

“-You were?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, of course,” Emilia answered. “Harry deserves to be happy.”

Y/N tried not to let it show on her face that she was shocked by this news. “He does.”

“I was told he had a girlfriend, and the second we met, I just felt like you didn’t like me.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Was a bit hard to when you used the power you know you have over Harry to show me that you still have the ability to make him do anything you want. And I think you got the idea that I ‘didn’t like you’ when I told Harry I felt uncomfortable with this, and he stopped giving you attention.”

Emilia fell quiet.

“Am I right?”

“You don’t know what happened between us, Harry and I.”

“I do, in fact. Harry’s told me.”

Emilia’s mouth was a thin line now. “Alright. My boyfriend of one year back in Munich broke up with me and I was sad about it. It was wrong of me to seek comfort in Harry, I’m sorry.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows some. “So… my theory’s correct? You wanted to know that you still exerted some dominance over Harry, even after all those years, and have him crawl back to you so you’d feel… what, better about yourself after being broken up with? Did you want someone to make you feel better?”

“I’m aware it was wrong of me, okay-“

“-No, I don’t think you get how fucking disgusting that is.”

Emilia turned silent again, blinking at Y/N.

“You didn’t even talk to him after you left. His dad died and his girlfriend broke up with him, he was left completely broken ‘cause of you, but he’s too good to say any of this to your face,” Y/N said, taking a small step forward.

“I left because of my mental health.”

“And that’s valid, but you should also know that by doing that, you left a hole in Harry that it took a while for him to fill up himself. You don’t get to walk in and out of someone’s life whenever it suits you, especially when they’re doing so much better now than they ever did with you there.”

Emilia looked away.

“It might feel like it, but you’re not the only person in the world that possesses feelings. We all do. The way you keep treating others and neglecting the fact that your actions will stay with them forever, is a dangerous sort of ignorance that I suggest you do something about.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t want to. I’ve heard enough from everyone else.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not my decision to make, but in my opinion, you should think twice before you try and make a place for yourself in Harry’s life again. His friends and family don’t really have a great picture of you any longer.”

Emilia sighed, meeting Y/N’s eyes again. “You know, I get where you’re coming from.”

It was Y/N’s turn to be silent now.

“You want to protect Harry, make sure nothing happens to him, and I know I hurt him bad, so naturally you don’t want me in his life. But, as you said, that’s his call,” Emilia said. “I shouldn’t have gone after Harry when I came back from Munich, it was stupid of me, especially considering how happy he looked with you. Granted, it was all fake, but I know Harry and I could tell he fancied the pants off you.”

Y/N gave Emilia a small smile, trying to make some sort of peace.

“I won’t stand in the way of you two.”

“I appreciate that. I’m sure Harry does as well.”

Emilia nodded, giving Y/N a smile.

“Y/N!” Fatima called from where she sat with all the others. When Y/N looked in their direction, she simply could not help her smile. They were all chatting amongst themselves, laughing at something, and Fatima and Harry were looking her way, beckoning her over.

“Hope you have a good day, Emilia,” Y/N said-

“You too, Y/N.”

And with that, Y/N walked back over to her friends. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her to him where he stood at the edge of the table, everyone else perched on bar stools around the tall table. Fatima clinked her glass against Y/N’s, Jo grinned in Y/N’s direction, while Ellie, Amir and Dax were in an animated discussion about something Y/N didn’t catch. Harry leaned down, pressing a small peck to Y/N’s temple, and the grin that spread out across Y/N’s smile almost hurt. A sort of restless anticipation mingled with such utter contentment that it was hard for her to think she’d ever lived, breathed, loved, anywhere but right there in St Ives.

Thursday, 10 September

The universe would always balance itself out, Y/N McKay was aware of this. She was aware that if she had faith and believed everything happens for a reason, it would make the tough times of her life easier to mentally handle. If she did good, the universe would work to give back to her in some other form. And now, after a summer randomly spent in Cornwall, she had found it in herself to believe in destiny as well.

She believed that there was a place where she belonged. People she was supposed to meet, and places she was supposed to see. These people, places, and feelings would help you along the road to self-realisation. They would shape her and make everything make sense, would make all the suffering and the struggles she had faced up until then worth it in a way. Each one of the people Y/N had met in St Ives had had that effect on her. They had made her realise things about herself and her life that she would never have figured out without them. She took that summer with her for the rest of her life; letting the sun beams of St Ives shine through in her smile, the goodness of the locals reflect in her own acts of kindness, the calming feeling of walking along the sand of Porthminster Beach show in her warmness and relaxing effect on the people around her.

Y/N had no idea when she walked out of the door of the building in Bethnal Green, London that September 10th that the summer she had just experienced would play that big of a role in shaping the continuation of her entire life. She had no idea that she would receive top marks on her UCAT she took in Bethnal Green, the following day. Nor that she would attend University of Plymouth for the next six years, graduating with a degree in Dentistry. And she had no idea that, even after all those years, she’d still be with the lighthouse keeper of St Ives. Only now that she was done with University, she moved back to her hometown, to her family, friends, and boyfriend, and would live there for the rest of her life.

No, Y/N didn’t know any of that as she walked out after her UCAT on the second Thursday of September that year. She chose not to think too much about her future at that time, realising that whatever would be, would be, and there was nothing she could change about that now.

Harry, who had driven her to London that day, was stood by his car not too far away, looking down at his phone as he replied to a text. She was sure no one had ever stood by their car like this, with no other agenda than to wait for her before this. Then again, Harry would always do stuff like this as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him, expecting nothing in return. Which had come as a shock to Y/N at first, but once she realised she was doing the same thing for the people she loved as well, she understood.

The UCAT had been awful, at least at first. The questions were difficult, she had to rack her brain properly for most of them, and she could swear she had heard someone crying at one point. She had to put a hand on her own cheek to check for tears, scared that it had been her. But then, during the chaos of everything, she remembered what Harry had said to her when they woke up in the Clodgy cottage that same morning, “It’s a beautiful day to do beautiful things,” and her nerves calmed themselves considerably. Because he was right. It was a beautiful day and she would do beautiful things. The thought of getting out of there and to Harry again was enough motivation to get her through the rest of the UCAT.

Upon hearing some footsteps, Harry looked in the direction of where they were coming. He instantly shoved his phone back down into the pockets of his denim jeans, smiling at Y/N as she approached him.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve got a good feeling,” she admitted, walking over to where he was standing. “But I don’t want to get my hopes up. I get the results back in 24 hours.”

Harry huffed, sliding his thumb reassuringly over her cheek. “You know what I think?”

“Think I already do.”

“You’ll do amazing, the results will be exactly as you dreamed they’d be, and life will be ama-“

“-Amazing,” Y/N finished, making Harry chuckle. “You’ve said that word a lot this last month.”

“Can you blame me?” Harry asked, resting his hand at the back of her neck, bringing her to him so he could plant a kiss to her forehead. “Everything’s been amazing this last month. So I therefore believe that the UCAT results will reflect that.”

Y/N giggled again, walking over to the other side of Harry’s van and getting in. The two of them got comfortable and Harry started driving back to St Ives. Y/N knew how much Harry hated London, and especially the traffic there. He had made it very clear when they had entered the capital that he couldn’t stand Londoners, something that made Y/N giggle. She never saw him have proper road rage, this was the first time she’d ever truly seen it, and it has been more entertaining than she had thought.

He was no better on their way out of the city, hissing curse words under his breath as he honked at reckless drivers or pedestrians that crossed the street without any regard for oncoming traffic. Y/N knew that no matter what, she could not end up attending a University in London, because Harry would not survive the trips to and from the capital.

It was a long drive back to St Ives and she fell asleep once they were out of London and Harry didn’t wake her. He knew she had been stressing the last few weeks to revise and get everything ready for the UCAT, and now that everything was over, he must’ve thought she deserved a small break from it all, some time to relax. When Y/N woke up in St Ives a few hours later, she smiled a little to herself, looking down at the tote bag by her feet that she had filled with books. She had been ready to read out loud to Harry, but she had simply not had the energy this time around.

“Alright?” Harry asked, smiling over at Y/N as he drove up the hill to Clodgy Lighthouse. He took her hand, kissing her palm softly.

“Just dead tired,” Y/N answered, yawning slightly. “I might take a nap once we’re back.”

“Or you can wake up.”

She blinked, looking over at Harry who was smiling a little to himself. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll show you,” Harry said, grinning now as he killed the engine.

Not really knowing what he had planned, Y/N was apprehensive at first. She saw Harry walk over to the field beside the cottage, not really caring to know what he was doing. She was too tired for that. Next, she rubbed her eyes and took her seatbelt off, climbing out of the van to join him. Harry ran for the lighthouse and Y/N followed, smiling at his eagerness to wake her up. The sun was shining brightly above them, not a single cloud in sight, and even though it was September, it was fairly warm out despite the wind.

Harry showed the way up the lighthouse, grinning back at her every once in a while. And though Y/N wanted to ask him what he was up to this time around, she didn’t bother. She knew he’d be cryptic or leave her hanging, neither option seemed very appealing now that she was slightly irritable because of her lack of sleep. Harry opened the door out onto the gallery deck, letting Y/N wander out first. She raised her eyebrows some but did as she supposed he wanted her to. Walking out onto the deck, the wind hit her hard across the face. If you stood directly facing it, it was impossible to open your eyes completely. She could see what Harry meant by this being a method to wake up some.

“Please,” Harry said. “Go along.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, but walked further onto the deck, even though she was sure Harry would’ve fit perfectly fine next to where she had originally standing.

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

Y/N’s frown deepened as she looked at him. “What?”

“I don’t usually do this,” Harry grinned. “I mean, I never do this. I’ve never done this before. But, you see…” He walked closer to her, taking her face in his hands. “My mum and my sister think I’ve got a girlfriend and I don’t.”

Y/N’s heart instantly melted, and she felt herself grinning right back at him.

“I was wondering, if it’s not too much to ask, of course, if you’d like to be my girlfriend? My real, proper girlfriend.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him before taking a grip of his shirt and bringing him closer. Though she didn’t know why Harry needed to do this at the top of the lighthouse, right under the light that guided sailors home, she didn’t mind. This felt right. This felt like them. This was them. It was real, it felt silly, unexpected, and a little odd, but that was what it felt like being with Harry.

She looked up into his eyes, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll be your real, proper girlfriend.”

Harry let out a breath of relief and grinned down at her, bringing her closer to him and planting a misplaced kiss onto her lips. They both giggled against one another. It hadn’t struck Y/N until now that they hadn’t made it official like this. Too much had been on her mind, she hadn’t allowed much else besides the UCAT to take up her time prior to this moment, but how that it had finally happened, Y/N felt just as relieved as Harry looked to be. She was glad that Harry had waited until now, after the UCAT, to ask, and she was also very glad to see how eager he had been to ask her.

Harry pulled away, detaching a hand from where it had rested at her neck, and held out a bellflower that he had picked outside the cottage. Reaching forward, he placed the bellflower behind Y/N’s ear, smiling to himself as he looked at it, the smile widening as he met her eyes. Y/N felt like she could burst with happiness in that very moment, probably lighting up all the oceans of the world with how much she was radiating.

“My bell room,” Harry said, touching the bellflower resting by her ear before he brought her in for another kiss.

A HUGE thank you to my amazing and beautiful beta readers! Couldn’t have written ST without them! 🌊 @aileenacoustic​​​​ 🌊 @bopbopstyles​​​​ 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh​​​​ 🌊 @harrys-shrooms 🌊 @honeydearly​​ 🌊 @sunflowers-styles​ 🌊 @watermelonsuger​​​​​ 🌊  @withallthelove-a​​​​​ 🌊

And so it’s over 😭 Thank you thank you thank you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you to each one of you who have been reading, reblogging, come to chat, or sent any sort of love ST’s way the last few months! There is something so liberating and beautiful about creating a world in which you feel peace, and then find that others find that same peace, that same sense of belonging, within the same world as you 💖 Each one of you remind me of why I continue to share my writing on here! Thank you for making writing, Tumblr, and fic fun! You all have my heart 💘 I LOVE YOU 💞💞

As for next fic project, as I’ve gotten quite a few questions about that already !! I’m gonna take a break from writing! Maybe a month, maybe two, dunno! I’ll still be writing some deleted scenes from ST and posting onto my Patreon, but as for a full 10+ chaptered fic, which is what I want to write next, I don’t know! But, as always, I’ll be tagging my posts with new fic tags and planning whenever I get an idea !!!! So keep an eye out lmao !!!!

Besides that, here are two songs I imagine would be playing if the end credits to ST was rolling right now 🐚 You can find the rest of the ST playlist here!

As ST!Harry said, I love you immeasurably, and as Jessa said, you’ll always have a home and a place you belong, here, in the ST universe 🌊

Your bestie, Nora ✨✨

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #1dff #I'M SO SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD #BUT ALSO CANNOT WAIT TO HEAR WHAT YOU LOT THINK!!!!

[ghostofstudentspast]

One of a kind

Charlie x Reader

Prompts: “Please shut up, I can’t stand how appealing your voice is.”

I have such a soft spot for Charlie Weasley, I think he’s so underrated and deserves so much more love!! So I wrote this little piece that’s completely and utterly filled with fluff. I also wrote it for @summer-writes writing challenge (and you should check her out too because she’s lovely)!

Three days. That’s how long it had taken for you to develop a crush on Charlie Weasley. You’d vaguely remembered him from your days at school but he was two years above you and let’s face it, Hogwarts is a big school.

Now, it was rare to see the two of you apart. You’d joined his team in Romania almost two years ago now. Starting as a glorified intern, you were more than happy to just be around the dragons. Today you were counted as an integral part of your research team. While Charlie focussed more on the handling and transporting of dragons, you were at his side to monitor the creatures’ health. Always the first to clock injuries, diet changes and sicknesses you really were an expert in the dragon department.

Not only were the two of you a wonder team but you got along like old friends. His happy go lucky demeanour sparked your creative side which meant work was never boring. Your sharp tongue counterbalanced his quick wit which meant you were always tossing back and forth a little ball of banter.

You worked together and you were known to take work home. It only made sense when the two of you moved in together a few months into your partnership. You set basic boundaries and you mostly managed to squash the tiny little voice in your head that begged for him to make a move. If being platonic meant you could have Charlie in your life, you were happy to just be friends.

Living together worked out to be a blessing, the only problem was his singing. Not because it was bad, oh no quite the opposite. His voice was gravelly and had such a warm tone to it that it was like fire whiskey to your ears. He was constantly singing, while he cooked, in the shower and even on the job. It got to the point where you would just zone out as soon as you heard his voice. It always gave you butterflies. No not butterflies, they were fully grown dragons flying around in your stomach.

“Y/N!” the object of your thoughts came bursting into your living room, full of energy as always, “there’s a rumour going around that we might be getting a Hungarian horntail in sometime this month!”

He dropped onto the sofa across from the chair you were currently perched on and grinned. The two of you had been busy at work preparing to transfer some dragons in from a sanctuary across the country. It was always exciting when you had new dragons to study and look after but Charlie was especially thrilled each time. You’d never met someone who loved their career as much as he did.

“That’s fantastic Charlie!” you closed the book that had occupied you and watched the curly headed man toss a ball up in the air as you chatted. He always needed something to keep him busy, he always had energy to burn. “I heard there’s some babies coming along as well.”

“I know, it’s fantastic,” he shot you a quick grin, “it’ll be like a brand new addition to our little family.”

“Our family?” you chuckled and raised your eyebrow at him, “that makes you what? Their uncle?”

“Mm yeah, you’re right, we’re like the fun uncle and aunt that the kids can’t wait to see at Christmas,” he stuck his tongue out at you and tossed the ball up again with ease.

“You’re one of a kind Weasley,” you shook your head and stuck your tongue back out at him.

“Then aren’t you lucky you know me?” he winked at you and rolled off the couch to stand up. You weren’t too phased by his flirty personality as much as you were when you first met him but it still kicked up a little blush on your face when he caught you off guard.

“I’m gonna shower and then I’m thinking of making pasta. You know, in case you’re interested.”

“In what, the pasta or the shower?” you flirted back and smirked up at him, “cause those are two very different offers Charles.”

“Hey, I’ll leave that for you to decide darling,” he wiggled his eyebrows and tossed the ball up and down again as he backed out of the room. He turned to leave and yelled a quick, “I’ll be in the shower!”

You smacked yourself in the forehead with your novel as your cheeks coloured red. You let yourself take the five seconds to consider following him before putting the book back in your lap and distracting yourself with the text. He just couldn’t help being flirty, you knew that, it was a part of his personality. You’d be a hypocrite if you didn’t say the same about yourself. But with Charlie it was always slightly different.

“Carbs will fix this,” you muttered, choosing to let your thoughts drift to pasta instead.

And there it was, as if on cue, Charlie singing in the shower. You couldn’t help but smile a little bit as he loudly sang along to whatever was stuck in his head today. He was far from shy and you loved that about him. The man could be comfortable anywhere and never had any shame for being a bit strange.

It was easy to fall in love with him the way you had. He was kind, fun, handsome and practically your best friend. You would be shocked if anyone managed not to fall in love with him if they were in your position. You knew you were basically an old married couple at this point anyway. Last Christmas he’d even taken you home to the Weasleys for a few days to meet his family. Normal, colleague behaviour, right?

“Hey,” Charlie stopped in the doorway on his way to his room, towel wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t rare to see Charlie walking around without a shirt, just as you would often walk around without pants. It was your house. But still, your eyes skipped over his torso and you forced your eyes to stay on his face. “so, yes on the pasta? Maybe some ice cream?”

“You should know you don’t even have to ask at this point Charlie,” you grinned and shooed him out of the room, waving your book at him.

His humming made nice background noise to your reading, trying your hardest to stay focused on the words on the page. Eventually you gave up and decided to see if you could help in the kitchen. There you found Charlie stirring a pan on the stove and humming along to the radio he had playing from the counter.

“You know you have a wand right?” you crossed your arms with an amused smile playing on your lips.

“You know, somehow this seems safer for me,” Charlie barked out a laugh and turned to grin at you, “don’t exactly have a great track record with household magic do I sweetheart?”

“Can’t deny that,” you laughed and pulled some plates out of the cupboard and started setting the little table in the centre of the kitchen. The two of you sitting down to gorge yourself on cheesy goodness.

You often split the chores between you, alternating who cooked for who. It wasn’t really a competition to see who was the better cook between you but if there’s one thing he could cook well it was comfort food. Something that came naturally to the Weasleys was a creating comforting environment so it was no surprise.

“Nope, I got it!” You grabbed Charlie’s plate before he could get up and put it away, “You cooked, I clean.”

“You’re too good to me,” Charlie chuckled and helped bring everything to the sink, “one of these days my mother will demand I marry you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and turned towards the sink so he couldn’t see your eyes widen. Wouldn’t be so bad Charlie, you thought to yourself. You could hear him continue to hum along from the living room as you flicked your wand over the dirty plates to clean them. He came waltzing back into the kitchen as Frank Sinatra played over the speakers. Reaching out his hands dramatically to serenade you as you leant against the counter and crossed your arms with a smirk.

“Please shut up, I can’t stand how appealing your voice is,” you pretended to plug your ears.

Charlie just shook his head with a grin and continued singing, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen to join him in his dancing.

I could be a king on crown

Humble or poor, rich or renowned

There is nothing I couldn't do

If I had you

You let out a laugh as he spun you towards him and rocked the two of you back and forth. Your hand clasped in his, the other on your waist he danced the two of you through the small kitchen. Resting your head on his shoulder, eyes closed as you listened to him sing along. He smelled like fire and cinnamon and Autumn. A smile was permanently stuck on your face even as your heart skipped a beat.

His hand was warm against yours, scars littered his fingers and forearms along with light freckles from the sun. His thumb stroked the back of your hand as you swayed comfortably, the music fading out.

You opened your eyes to look up at the man who held your heart and were surprised to find him looking back. His hand travelled up to your cheek and his calloused thumb stroked your cheek gently. You held your breath and nuzzled your cheek into his hand.

“I am so insanely in love with you,” he whispered. It was so soft, you’d feared you’d misheard him somehow. “It’s driving me crazy Y/N.”

Without second thought you stood up on your toes and pressed your lips to his. Your arms easily resting on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as his hands gripped your waist and steadied you. His lips were soft and moved perfectly against yours. You smiled into the kiss and let out a soft chuckle as your forehead came to rest against his, the two of you smiling and laughing breathlessly.

“I love you,” you smiled, “I’m so in love with you,” you let out a joyful laugh as Charlie picked you up with a dopey grin on his face and kissed you again. You wound your hands in his hair as he held you against him.

“Thank god,” he laughed as he set you down, your feet touching the floor again. “there was a moment there where I thought I’d have to find the dragons a new aunt.”

You slapped his chest with a laugh and rolled your eyes at him. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead it’s a smile. It was everything you could have possibly hoped for with Charlie.

“So you really think my voice is incredibly appealing huh?” he asked with an innocent expression in his face, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Oh shut up,” you laughed as your face flushed again.

“No, In considering a career change now,” he teased, “Yeah I can see it now, Charlie the dragon taming pop star.” he squeezed your hip with his hand.

“Right, you call me when that works out,” you snorted and patted his chest with your hand.

“What if I can’t wait that long to call you?” he smiled at you and kissed the tip of your nose.

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” you smirked and tugged him down by the front of his shirt to kiss him again.

#summerswritingchallenge #harry potter #charlie weasley #charlie x reader #hp headcannon #hp blurbs #hp writing #hp fanfic #harry potter headcannon #harry potter blurb #one shot #dragons

[mysteriouslytransparentwitch]

5 unexpected exercises to regain self-esteem (it's a translation)

Self-esteem ... a bit of a fuzzy psychological concept for most of us. Yet we are all aware that low self-esteem can have devastating consequences in our lives.

Something not to be taken lightly then ...

Especially since it can directly impact your eating habits.

Are there solutions to increase your self-esteem?

Fortunately, the answer is "Yes"!

In this article, discover 5 easy (and rather unexpected) exercises to regain self-esteem.

If you tend to devalue yourself, then trust me, these exercises are a must!

A word of advice ... stick with it until the end because I will offer you a recognized test to assess your level of self-esteem at the end of this article.

This will allow you to know where you are and also to re-evaluate yourself shortly after performing the exercises regularly.

Pin it What is self-esteem? According to Wikipedia, self-esteem is "a term for the judgment or assessment made of an individual in relation to their own worth. ”

In other words, self-esteem refers to "how we see ourselves, how we assess our worth".

When we talk about self-esteem, we are therefore talking about the look and value judgment that we have on ourselves (and which does not necessarily have to do with the skills that we may have. ).

When self-esteem is positive, it allows you to:

➖ Feel good about yourself,

➖ Face the difficulties and trials of life,

➖ Take control over your actions.

You feel capable of accomplishing your goals and getting through to your projects.

You are determined!

A bit like putting on a super heroine costume ...

You are ready to challenge all obstacles!

Whereas negative self-esteem makes it really very difficult to take action and accept your mistakes.

You feel helpless in the face of events in your life. Demotivation sets in ... You feel incapable, weak, basically completely zero ...

As you can see, self-esteem is inextricably linked with the assessment of one's own skills.

If she is weak and fragile, it will be difficult for you to feel competent. Failures in your life will reinforce the lack of self-esteem and increase your feeling of worthlessness ...

And if that weren't enough, if you have low self-esteem, unfortunately you will tend to attract so-called "toxic" people 😬.

You know those “vampires” thirsty for the affection and energy of others?

These people know very well how to spot and take advantage of your weakness, if you are psychologically fragile.

Do you lack self-esteem?

Don't be surprised when you find yourself in toxic and demeaning relationships.

It makes sense when you think about it, since deep down inside you think you don't deserve better ...

So self-esteem is related to others? Indeed, positioning yourself in relation to others is one of the fundamental factors that allows you to adjust your self-esteem.

We all naturally tend to self-assess by comparing ourselves to others.

Whether in the professional or academic field (skills), but also on our physical aspect, in the material field (wealth and social rank), in our emotional and family successes or failures ...

If comparing yourself to others really weighs in with your self-esteem, so does the way others look at you.

Feeling loved and appreciated weighs heavily.

Finally, studies show that skills and performance are not necessarily good indicators of high self-esteem.

For example, students who are popular with their peers often have much higher self-esteem than students who are good in class (even if their academic performance is poor).

Self-esteem is therefore more linked to relationship aspects.

Moreover, parental attitude and style of education play a crucial role in the development of a child's self-esteem.

Supportive and caring parents will help their children to have high self-esteem even compared to overbearing or neglectful parents.

So you know what to do if you want to help your children not suffer from low self-esteem!

Speak encouraging, respectful words, show them affection, care and gratitude when they succeed in certain tasks that they deem important.

The impact of low self-esteem on diet: If you suffer from low self-esteem, you must also be feeling bad about yourself… Logical!

This is unfortunately part of the packaging as we have seen previously.

The risk of falling into depression is also much greater.

If your self-esteem is low, you also risk developing anxiety disorders and addictive behaviors (excessive consumption of sugar, chocolate, screens, etc.)

Feeling bad about yourself, devaluing yourself, thinking that you do not deserve the love and appreciation of others is THE main factor that leads to developing eating disorders such as bulimia, anorexia, or overeating.

The negative impact on all daily life is therefore very significant.

Really, don't take this aspect of your life lightly.

If you think you lack self-esteem, I suggest you perform these 5 very simple little exercises inspired by Positive Psychology, daily.

Do not underestimate them, it could really improve many facets of your life!

How do you improve your self-esteem?

1 / Self-awareness exercise A great sage said:

"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift that's why it's called the present" (the mothers here will probably recognize this very ... literary reference! and no one laughs at my references 😂)

Becoming aware of yourself is the first link that allows you to develop your self-esteem. This is why I suggest you start with this exercise.

➡️ Every morning, take time to relax.

Preferably, before checking your emails, Instagram notifications, Facebook etc ... which only pollute your brain unnecessarily.

➡️ Take a notebook or journal.

Take 3 minutes to close your eyes for a moment and reflect on what you are feeling like emotions, sensations and feelings at that moment.

Do you feel sad, happy, tired, energetic, motivated, anxious…?

➡️ Write this in your journal without going into judgment or analysis.

Just try to write down as much detail as possible about how you are feeling physically and psychologically at this moment.

2 / Exercise on self-acceptance: Another aspect that goes hand in hand with self-esteem: self-acceptance.

It is necessary that you learn to support yourself rather than blame yourself. Encourage yourself, value yourself.

To help you accept yourself, there's nothing like asking your loved ones about your qualities and what they like about you.

➡️ Write all of this in your notebook and reread it whenever you feel you are devaluing yourself.)

Also take the time to remember your successes, the highlights of your life.

What are you particularly proud of? What can you rejoice in?

The exercise that I am offering you here to better accept yourself but also and above all your destiny (the Decree of Allah) is therefore to write down every evening 10 things that have made you happy during the day.

10 things for which you are grateful to Allah عز و جال.

By asking these questions to your consciousness, even if you are in a "bad mood", your brain will be forced to search for the answers.

This will force you to focus on the positive rather than your worries and trials, which can often seem more important to you than they really are, if you have low self-esteem.

Remember, glorifying Allah عز و جال and praising Him in all circumstances are part of the believer's duty, which will bring her the satisfaction of her Lord but also inner peace.

3 / stop comparing yourself to others Do you want to please me?

Focus on your own goals and stop comparing yourself to others!

You did not start at the same time as the others, nor do you have the same background, the same tests, and even less the same qualities and skills ...

So I am going to offer you a rather funny exercise here, you will see ...

This must have already happened ...

You are busy but silent and then you find yourself talking to yourself (internally or out loud, it depends on the seriousness of your case 😂):

"Bint Fulana is more beautiful, more intelligent, and in addition she kept a flat stomach despite her pregnancies ... She raises her children better than me, and then you have to face reality, she is also more pious because she knows the Koran by heart and not I, she often goes to meetings, while I rarely manage to do so with all my obligations at home… " Does that remind you of someone?

This little voice does not wish you any good! Be aware of this.

She just wants to make you feel guilty.

And if you listen to it, you are going to put pressure on yourself.

You'll never feel up to it and it might end badly.

Because what's the point of comparing yourself to people who have paths and personalities totally different from yours? It doesn't make sense, don't you think?

So ... once you realize this, I suggest you name that part of yourself that is trying to make you feel guilty!

As if she was a whole person… and above all, find him a very ridiculous little name.

The next time you find yourself having this kind of "inner talk," don't hesitate to call him out:

“Here is Medusa (or Cruella) coming!” (no you won't have dissociative personality disorder!)

You will see. This exercise will gradually lessen the weight of that bad voice on your self-esteem by ridiculing it and minimizing its impact on you.

You will also be more able to become aware of these internal discourses which have no benefit for your "sanity".

Don't laugh it really works, trust me!

4 / Exercise to increase self-love: By increasing your love for yourself, it will boost your self-esteem. And for that, you really have to learn to take care of yourself.

Think about ... what actions can you take each day to experience happiness, pleasure or take care of yourself?

So take your nice little notebook or journal every morning.

And, after performing the 1st exercise, think about the moments, actions or situations that have given you well-being and satisfaction during the last 7 days?

How did you feel ?

➡️ Write down what these situations or activities are and try to reproduce them as often as possible.

It can be very simple things like having breakfast in peace when everyone is still asleep, relaxing with a good bath, visiting your sister, spending time with your husband, doing a painting activity with your child. .

You should see a marked improvement in your mental state over time.

5 / Exercise to enhance the self-image: "Self-image is an individual's representation of themselves, including the physical aspect as well as the psychological one."

As this aspect is purely cognitive, it is easy to "reprogram" your brain to further enhance your self-esteem.

In cognitive behavioral therapy, we talk about cognitive restructuring.

Your mental images and thoughts depend on the cognitive process of processing information, although you may not always be aware of it.

By focusing on your cognitive patterns and dysfunctional beliefs, you can try to change the processes that cause you to think badly about yourself.

So my exercise is to try to modify these bad automatic thoughts by finding alternative thoughts that will improve your emotions and your self-image.

I'm talking about the famous positive affirmations!

➡️ Every morning, take your little notebook and after doing exercises 1 and 4,

Write down one or two positive affirmations, which you will repeat aloud at least 10 times, then as often as possible throughout the day.

Remember, we are talking about positive statements, so there shouldn't be any negative words in your sentence.

For example, you can start your sentences with:

"I am …"

"I want …"

"I can …"

"I like …"

Here are some ideas:

"I accept myself as I am",

"I love me as Allah created me",

“I am able بإذن الله to carry out my projects”,

“I am different and unique and this difference is my strength”…

And so you don't forget to repeat your positive affirmations, some apps can allow you to schedule notifications of your favorite positive affirmations at different times of the day.

Warning. This exercise will only be effective if it is repeated regularly, until your brain has fully integrated and accepted these statements as “truth”.

Here are the girls, for the 5 exercises that will help you regain your self-esteem.

Do you want to know if these exercises are really effective?

Ok. I suggest you take this little test which will allow you to assess your level of self-esteem.

This is a recognized test. It was developed by Morris Rosenberg, a sociologist. This scale is the most used by psychologists nowadays to assess the level of self-esteem, so it can be considered reliable.

To perform the TEST, click on this link: [FREE ROSENBERG TEST]

#self-esteem #perso

[gravitascivics]

CRITQUE OF THE NATURAL RIGHTS VIEW, VII

This blog is currently critiquing the construct that more than any other is dominant in defining what governance and politics are for most Americans – that being the natural rights view.  In general, the critique centers on natural rights’ diminution of community.  That is, it presents politics as a consumer-based activity with little to no communal or common concerns.

         Along this line, educators have adopted certain concepts and paradigms that further this bias by compounding the prevailing individualism, anti-intellectualism, and temporal view of the American people and what they are about.  They have been poorly instructed about the historical turns and forces that led to the current state of affairs.  

These forces, in part, met their loosely “scientific” foundation in the psychology of humanistic learning theory, a theoretical base highly in tune with the elements of the natural rights perspective in that it focuses on individual perceptions and emotions.

 Humanistic learning theory is grounded in the philosophy of humanistic theories of psychology, including person-centered theory … Primary contributors to humanistic learning theory include Arthur Combs, Carl Rogers, and Malcolm Knowles, all of whom believed the goal of education is to facilitate students’ development and self-actualization … Therefore, humanist educators have an unwavering trust in the individual’s growth capacity and view self-directed learning as most facilitative of growth … Additionally, humanistic theorists hold a phenomenological view of humans in that they believe each person’s view of the world is reality for that person and that learning is motivated by personal need based on one’s internal frame of reference … For example, a student with low self-efficacy might not attempt difficult projects because of a belief that “I am not capable,” whereas a student with a high level of self-trust can go beyond the direct instructions of an assignment to tailor the assignment to fit their learning needs. Highly self-actualized individuals view themselves as dynamic beings who are constantly growing and changing …[1]

To summarize: what the concerned parties have had is a history that glorified individuals in their quest to obtain economic well-being.  A national philosophy has taken hold that demeans thought and reflection and has made the here and now all important.  Add to this mix a generally accepted psychological school of thought that leads to the idea that all of these biases are natural and lodged in the nature of humans.

         Basing their propositions on studies basically done with clinical patients, adherents to this perceptional-ist psychology apply clinical techniques to helping services such as education.  Relying on the ideas of two leading humanistic learning theorists, Carl Rogers[2] and Arthur Combs,[3] their main argument is that behavior is a product of perception; that dysfunctional people in the US society act that way because they have low self-regard for themselves.

         Health for these people is a product of, first, freeing themselves of social definitions about who they are or what they should be about, and, second, to get them to define their own standards of what is good and proper. What is important in treating these people is not so much their psychological background, but their immediate behaviors and feelings they express.  Humanistic learning advocates then, in applying this line of reason to schools, advocate a curriculum that:

 1.    Is characterized by a warm atmosphere in which the teacher is helper, communicating a warm positive acceptance, and demonstrating empathetic understanding;

2.    Never communicates that a student cannot accomplish the objectives set forth (making evaluation very problematic);

3.    Provides problems that are relevant to the student (preferably identified by the student); and

4.    Encourages the student to define his or her own sense of morality (they speak of responsible choices, but this does not seem to be defined).

 Of late, the self-esteem movement in American schools is a direct product of the humanistic learning psychology.  While the viability of this bias varies over time, it has held a central commitment to date.

           So, whatever can be wrong with this mode or approach to teaching?  Only a Grinch can object to such an approach.  Before this blogger attempts to get into the negative aspects of this view, he wishes to express a tempered support for its prescribed educational claims and advocacies.  Yes, it is good to treat students with dignity, justice, and an upbeat approach that is encouraging of their efforts.  

But in all that, teachers need to be honest and respectful for the legitimate demands of the society in which they ply their trade.  And in that, humanistic learning theory tends to cut some corners.  And in conducting their interactions with students, effective teachers should not portray to their students false messaging that might sound more acceptable to their students, but in sum will not be beneficial.  The next posting will expound on these concerns.

[1] Katherine E. Purswell, “Humanistic Learning Theory in Counselor Education,” The Professional Counselor, 9, 4 (2019), 358-368, 359, accessed February 27, 2023, https://tpcjournal.nbcc.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/Pages_358-368-Purswell-Humanistic_Learning_Theory_in_Counselor_Education.pdf.

[2] Carl Rogers, “Learning to Be Free,” in Readings in Curriculum, edited by Glen Hass, Kimball Wiles, and Joseph Bondi (Boston, MA:  Allyn and Bacon, Inc., 1970), 219-239.

[3] Arthur W. Combs, “Seeing Is Behaving,” in Readings in Curriculum, edited by Glen Hass, Kimball Wiles, and Joseph Bondi (Boston, MA:  Allyn and Bacon, Inc., 1970), 210-219.

#natural rights view #humanistic learning theory #self-concept #individualism #self-actualizing #civics education #social studies