#my confusion is with people who claim to be experts and say this. especially books of sorrow enthusiasts

[thefirstknife]

The God-Wave and the Witness

I've recently been seeing an increase in confusion in regards to the new lore from The Witch Queen about the Hive siblings, the God Wave and the new reveals that all of it was orchestrated by the Witness.

Some even go as far as to say that this was a retcon from how it was described in the Books of Sorrow. That is incorrect. The accusation of retcons comes from a misunderstanding of both old and new lore. I want to clarify this for people who might be genuinely confused. People were confused at the time of release as well, but I thought that with time, this would become clearer? Apparently it didn't and there's still confusion about it.

The new reveal in the cutscene with Ikora and the worm is here. The same dialogue is repeated in Resonant Fury Plate lore, but with additions that I will highlight:

—-It delays our desires so that it may seek its own. These frail siblings… will soon be claimed by the Light. Unless we claim them first. Our whispers were fed to a weak mind. But we have watched these siblings. These children of the king. They are brave minds. Clever minds. Ambitious minds. Yet unsullied by the weakness of aging that plagues their kind.—-

"Then what compels them to hear our whispers?"

—-Desperation. We will tell the most cunning sibling of a cataclysm. A prophecy… of great loss. We will feed her fear. Her pride. We will say… Young Sathona. The end is coming. A great cataclysm. A God-Wave. In the Sky… there is only death. But salvation… lies in the Deep. Lead your sisters down. Your cunning will spare their short lives. And you… will be reborn. The Witch Queen… Savathûn.—-

People seem to be interpreting this as if there was a retcon about which of the siblings first spoke of the Syzygy, aka the incoming apocalyptic event on the Fundament. In Books of Sorrow:

My father died afraid. Not of vile Taox or the Helium Drinkers, but of his orrery. He screamed to me —

“Aurash, my first daughter! The moons are different! The laws are bent!”

And he made the sign of a syzygy.

Imagine the fifty-two moons of Fundament lining up in the sky. (It wouldn’t take all fifty-two, of course: just a few massive moons. But this is my deepest fear.) Imagine their gravity pulling on the Fundament sea, lifting it into a swollen bulge…

Imagine that bulge collapsing as the syzygy passed. A wave big enough to swallow civilizations. A God-Wave.

In Books of Sorrow, the Osmium King learned of the syzygy from the worm familiar and then told Aurash, the eldest sibling, about it. Aurash became obsessed with it almost as much as the Osmium King, but didn't know when the syzygy would come:

I have to find a way to stop it. Before the God-Wave annihilates my species. If I could only get back into my father’s orrery, I could learn exactly when!

This is important. At this point, nobody knew when the syzygy would strike. Osmium King was later assassinated and his children had to flee. These bits are important.

You see, the Witness acknowledges that the whispers were first fed to a "weak mind." Aka the Osmium King. The worm familiar was first his and he was not able to fully understand the whispers of the worm and he never fulfilled what the Witness wanted. The knowledge of the syzygy is still coming from the Witness, via the worm familiar, first to the Osmium King. The Witness also acknowledges that it watched his children and that they are brave, clever and ambitious, but also desperate. The Witness shifted its words to them now.

The same Books of Sorrow chapter also has Aurash acknowledging that Sathona always has a clever plan and "mad ideas" that get them out of trouble. Weeks into their travel away from home, Aurash says:

But more and more we have come to rely on Sathona’s wit. She will go off to be alone (she insists she must be alone) and return with some mad idea — steer into the storm, throw down a net, eat that strange beast, explore that menacing wreck.

Somehow Sathona seems to manufacture good luck by sheer will.

Aurash doesn't know it at this point, and the readers don't know it either, but Sathona has taken the worm familiar. She is getting these "mad ideas" from the worm. She is not manufacturing good luck by sheer will, she is being led, by the whispers of the worm. Sathona reveals this in her own chapter in the Books of Sorrow, immediately following the previous one:

1. It was my father’s familiar. I ripped it from him as we fled. It is a dead white thing, segmented, washed up from the deep sea. 2. It’s dead, but it still speaks to me. It says: listen closely, oh vengeance mine…

She also specifies that everything she told her sisters to do was directed by the worm: she says that she "knows where to find secrets," "knows where vast slow things with long memories live," "knew it [the needle ship] would be there," and that she "knows its purpose" and "what happened to the crew." She also lies to her siblings and contradicts Xi Ro who wants to sell the ship. Instead, Sathona insists that they should use it to dive into the Fundament. This is in agreement with Aurash who wants to get into the ship and command it. Sathona says:

Aurash wants to open the ship and see if we can take command of it. I know this is the right thing to do. I know because I asked the worm…

Another important part is at the start of this chapter where Sathona specifies that at the point of her writing her chapter, they've been traveling for a YEAR:

This year of wild voyaging, these lightning nights and golden days, these forays into ancient wrecks and windblown flights from monsters: these are the happiest times of my life.

Next chapter of the Books of Sorrow also states the following (Sathona speaking):

“We three will die here, in exile. Taox will outlive us. And Aurash, brilliant-eyed Aurash, you will die of old age long before you have proof of your God-Wave, or any way to stop it.”

Why does this matter? Well, a full year after the death of the Osmium King and after a full year of traveling, Aurash still doesn't have either proof of the God-Wave or a plan to stop it. Yes, Aurash first heard of the God-Wave from the Osmium King, but didn't have proof, had no clue when it would happen and had no idea how to stop it or escape it.

For a full year of voyaging, it was Sathona who was talking to the worm. The worm was telling her all sorts of things, things that Aurash believed were just good luck that Sathona was manufacturing by "sheer will." For a year, the Witness was speaking to Sathona, giving her directions, telling her how to survive, where to find the needle ship, where the Worm gods live and to dive into the Fundament.

Obviously, in Books of Sorrow we didn't know that it was the Witness speaking through the proxy of the worm familiar. But we knew, from the Books of Sorrow, that Sathona, aka Savathun, was being given instructions on the syzygy, the God-Wave, where to find the Worm gods and how to reach them in order to escape both the God-Wave and their own mortality through that worm familiar.

It's really confusing to me why people think this is a retcon. Yes, Aurash, aka Oryx, was the first sibling to hear about the syzygy from the Osmium King. But Oryx didn't engage with the syzygy or the God-Wave further; he wanted to go back to their father's orrery to learn more and for a full year still had no new information about the God-Wave or how to stop it. Savathun did. It's directly explained in the Books of Sorrow that she spent a full year being fed whispers telling her where to go.

This was further clarified in The Witch Queen, but not changed. Nothing was changed, it was just expanded that in the year of Savathun being given instructions, the Witness was feeding her fear and her pride and telling her more and more about the syzygy. The Witness also fully mentions that it tried the same with the Osmium King and that it didn't work.

Simplified order of events from the Books of Sorrow: Osmium King acquires the worm -> Osmium King learns about the syzygy from the worm -> Osmium King tells Aurash about the syzygy -> Osmium King dies -> Sathona takes the worm -> Sathona keeps the worm a secret for a year while it feeds her information the siblings need to survive -> Sathona uses the knowledge gained from the worm to lead her siblings to meet the Worm gods

Simplified order of events from the POV of the Witness: Osmium King acquires the worm -> Osmium King learns about the syzygy from the worm -> Osmium King dies and fails to fulfil the worm's purpose -> Sathona takes the worm -> The Witness uses a year of Sathona's time to feed her information and additional knowledge about the syzygy because she's smarter than her father -> Sathona fulfils the worm's purpose

Had Oryx thought to take the worm from the Osmium King, then the Witness would've told him all of this. But he didn't take the worm. Oryx simply heard about the syzygy from the Osmium King, didn't have time to learn more before his death and then Savathun secretly took the worm for herself.

Oryx still spent time trying to understand the syzygy and the God-Wave and tried coming up with a plan to stop it, but he didn't have access to the primary source of information about it; the worm. Savathun had it secretly. Oryx even noted that Savathun was often going off alone and insisted on being alone and then returned with "mad ideas." Meaning, she was off alone to secretly commune with the worm.

This is communicated fairly clearly as a sort of an early mystery in the Books of Sorrow and then explained by Savathun herself in her own chapter (which she also starts with "My secrets").

I feel like this bit in the Books of Sorrow about Savathun secretly communing with the worm alone for a year is often ignored or missed or misremembered. It's very direct in how it's told, specifically about how she suddenly appears with knowledge about the needle ship and the Worm gods and insists that they should dive, while in the meantime, Oryx is despairing about not even having proof that the God-Wave is happening. So yeah, Oryx was first of the siblings to be told about the syzygy by their father, but he had no connection to any of the actual important information about it because Savathun stole the worm and kept it secret. As she does.

Also note that the Witness' speech never says anything about Savathun being the first to ever find out about the syzygy. In the extended version from the lore tab, it states that the first to learn was the Osmium King, who failed, and then the Witness moved on to influence his children. Due to Savathun stealing the worm in secrecy for herself, the Witness couldn't reach Oryx so Oryx was left with only what his father said, which wasn't enough. Books of Sorrow specify that it wasn't even enough to know the basics, such as proof that it's happening at all. Savathun was always the sibling with the most information on the God-Wave.

Another point that's vaguely adjacent that I want to address as well is that this reveal... didn't feel like a true reveal to me. I loved the cutscene and all, but the point of the cutscene ("The Hive were lied to") was an obvious reading of the Books of Sorrow. I didn't expect that to be contentious, even in-universe. Yes, obviously, Books of Sorrow saying that the Traveler is causing the syzygy is bonkers. Traveler doesn't destroy entire planets. The Darkness does.

Furthermore, the Darkness has been consistently depicted as having gravity powers. Where there's gravitational anomalies, there's Darkness. The connection between Darkness, gravity and the Fundament has become exceptionally clear once Last Days on Kraken Mare released which went into out first proper view of what the Collapse was like and what exactly happened. Specifically, it details how the Darkness warped the moon Titan, then released it, causing it to undergo a devastating tidal wave that destroyed the Arcology. My post from 10 months before WQ released that mentions the Fundament as the first recorded instance of Darkness using gravity to destroy.

Like, that is a direct parallel to the Fundament. When this released, it was the final nail in the coffin for what really happened with the God-Wave. I genuinely didn't think that this would be treated as a huge reveal for The Witch Queen. Like, obviously, yes, the Darkness did that to the Fundament and blamed the Traveler to galvanise the Hive into destroying it.

I still loved the whole full official reveal with an absolutely incredible cutscene that still gives me chills. I think revealing things plainly and in an accessible way for everyone is the best course of action for something so important, instead of leaving it to connections between lore books that not everybody will read. I really loved that this was finally fully explained, unambiguously, as was the whole story of how the Hive were tricked. It also curbed all the edgelord theories about how the Traveler is actually evil and the Traveler did that to the Hive.

This confuses me even fruther then when people are saying there's a retcon or that it's a contradiction. The lore around the Books of Sorrow, the Fundament, the Hive and their connection to the Darkness' lies (as directed by the Witness) is one of the most solid pieces of writing in the entire game.

It's the type of lore that has always been written so well and so clearly in line with other lore that it was really easy to take hints from it and understand where the narrators were deceived. Yes, the siblings were told by the Worm gods that the Traveler is causing the destruction of their home and they forced the siblings into an eternal pact in order to make them go hunt down the Traveler for all eternity.

Meanwhile, every other lore ever is showing that the Traveler is not the type to destroy anything and clearly the Darkness it the bad guy here so obviously, the Worm gods lied to the Hive. It's what made reading Books of Sorrow so tragic and ultimately, well, sorrowful. You're kinda expected to conclude that the Hive were the victims of their circumstances who were tricked by malicious forces into doing the bidding of someone else.

I'm glad The Witch Queen fully confirmed that and explained it so beautifully and tragically. It's a fascinating piece of Destiny universe history that ties the power and intent of Darkness across time and space, from the Hive to humans and beyond.

#destiny 2 #hive #witness #darkness #lore vibing #long post #every so often i genuinely see this take #and often it's just people being confused. which is normal! there's a lot of stuff here #and books of sorrow are big and also old #but they're still relevant! and they help us fill in the blanks with this specific event #the new reveal worked directly with the books of sorrow. it didn't contradict them #i'm baffled to see people claim otherwise #you're fine if you just didn't know. that's expected and i hope anyone who didn't know understands things better! #my confusion is with people who claim to be experts and say this. especially books of sorrow enthusiasts #like i've seen self-proclaimed lore experts saying that this is contradicting books of sorrow #and no? it clearly isn't? like. it's right there in the chapters. savathun was always in charge of the worm familiar #oryx only knew what his father said #my guy didn't even have proof that it's real. meanwhile savathun was having secret zoom meetings with the worm for a year #it's actually adorable that he believed his sister is so smart that she was just manufacturing information and good luck for them #oryx vc: 'yeah my sister goes off alone and then comes back with strange instructions that make no sense. she is so smart :)' #savathun: 'get a load of this guy. i am talking to a worm bro. our father's worm! i took it! it's telling me things!' #honestly if they just listened to xivu arath none of this would've happened. absolute dumbasses (complimentary)

[spaceshipkat]

Hi Kat 👋

How's your manuscript/publishing journey going? Last I saw you were still editing.

Any advice for the current climate?

probably the most accurate way to describe it tbh. i'm turning in a brand new book next week that i've had quite a bit of fun writing and my agent is really excited about, so yknow fingers crossed!

as for the current climate...oof. now i'm by no means an expert, but there are things i've observed or been told, so if i had to sum it up in a few points (i'll stick them under a cut so i can add more as i think of them, so this list is absolutely not exhaustive but my brain is kinda mushy so this is what i can think of off the top of my head):

shorter is better. novellas are really having a good time rn, but even in full length novels, shorter is better. it used to be that you needed at least 90k for an Adult fantasy, for instance. now, you're better off aiming for as close to 80k as possible. the only people still capable of selling enormous books (as if 120k is enormous but in publishing terms in the day and age when everything has to be shorter? yeah that's a gigantic book) are bestsellers already (either through tradpub or selfpub) or the exception to the rule.

AI continues to exist. saw today that the RWA is now pushing an AI writing class with an author who claims to have hit book #100. i'm not sure how many of her books were written with AI, given the post i saw claimed she's only been using it for about a year, but still. i expect quite a lot of lawsuits tbh, especially if whichever AI tool she uses was trained on the work by, say, Nora Roberts.

promotion is...changing? idk i have seen a lot of authors say that they're tired of being the lone person at their publisher bothering to promote their books, so it's very difficult to generate enough buzz to sell any copies. author promo is one of the things i've dreaded most about becoming an author because i get very easily tongue-tied and hate being on camera. i think this is why tradpub is looking to selfpub (beyond trying to make a quick buck) for which books they're acquiring. a selfpub success doesn't need as much promo as a debut with no platform.

selfpub to tradpub pipeline is likely gonna continue. these books often hit bestseller lists (Gothikana and Serpent and the Wings of Night were both megasellers as selfpubbed books, and they both hit the NYT upon publication). hopefully we all know how i feel about this so i can avoid another rant (i still have a deadline to meet) but a tl;dr summary of my feelings about this: i'm happy for the selfpubbed authors and despise tradpub using them for a way to make easy money.

likewise with the fanfic to tradpub pipeline. but i do think publishing might start looking wider than just reylo fic, given we now have an HP fic that's been sold as a reimagined tradpub book.

now i don't know as much about YA these days as i do Adult fiction, but the big genre everyone is after rn is romantasy (not to be confused with fantasy romance or fantasy with romance--both are similar, but each is different: romantasy = romance as the main plot, fantasy as the secondary; fantasy romance = fantasy and romance plots are kinda neck and neck; fantasy with romance = fantasy main plot, romance subplot).

#ask #anonymous #publishing industry #publishing

[slenderverse]

please don't feel pressured to answer this if you don't want to, but i was wondering about why you believe every god who has ever been worshiped exists? since i believe holy texts for multiple religions claim that their god is the only real god, how is it possible for them all to be correct at the same time? do you believe in the gods but not the specific books people wrote about them? i'm sorry if this comes across as rude or anything, i'm just curious to learn about other peoples beliefs!

im not rlly someone whos super concrete w defining my beliefs especially w religion (the angel delusion does a lot of confusion, there are times its heavily fluctuates on the strength of my beliefs) but in general it’s less so of a genuine physical existence and more so i think it’s important to validate and understand different theologies and their beliefs.

but if you were to ask me when i’m having a Moment i’d just say “oh well if there’s evidence of their existence then it shouldn’t be invalidated” etc etc.

bc of my christian background however i can’t speak on or pretend to be an expert in any other religion & examine their holy texts. when ppl talk abt their experiences w their gods i just do a thumbs up and move on.

tl;dr: it’s more of a loose “i respect & validate ppls personal experiences with their gods” belief and less of a “i am an expert of all religious holy texts and known which parts are true and which aren’t.”

#answers #anonymous

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 498

John 1:4

DIVINE ORDER 63: Law Of The Tree Of Knowledge 11

Gen 2:16-17 But the LORD told him, "You may eat fruit from any tree in the garden, EXCEPT THE ONE THAT HAS THE POWER TO LET YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RIGHT AND WRONG. IF YOU EAT ANY FRUIT FROM THAT TREE, YOU WILL DIE BEFORE THE DAY IS OVER!" CEV

CONFLICT OF LAWS 1

On close examination, you’d realize that Men don’t really chose to be Lawless but just want to modify or “impose” their own Laws, so they commonly add and/or subtract.

Many Christians may not boldly declare their own “modified” laws but they are indeed living by their own rules and don’t really care what anybody says about them.

But they’ll be sorry…

Rev 22:18-19 I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy in this book: If anyone adds anything to this, God will strike him with the plagues that are written in this book. If anyone takes away any words from this book of prophecy, God will take away his portion of the tree of life and the holy city that are described in this book. GW

Naturally, there is a “sense” of acceptance by all Men that nothing can exist without Law, but since many are not “comfortable” with the demands of Standard Divine Laws, they simply develop their own laws and defiantly insist on living by those laws.

This is what is called HUMAN PHILOSOPHY.

1Co 1:19-20 As the Scriptures say, "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise. I will confuse the understanding of the intelligent." SO WHAT DOES THIS SAY ABOUT THE PHILOSOPHER, THE LAW EXPERT, OR ANYONE IN THIS WORLD WHO IS SKILLED IN MAKING CLEVER ARGUMENTS? God has made the wisdom of the world look foolish. ERV

It’s understandable, where you have men who don’t know God, become argumentative and hence propound senseless ideologies.

But because it is all the manifestation of “Flesh”, you’d see “unbroken” and worldly Christians, taken in the same web.

1Co 2:14 SOMEONE LIVING ON AN ENTIRELY HUMAN LEVEL REJECTS THE REVELATIONS OF GOD’S SPIRIT, FOR THEY MAKE NO SENSE TO HIM. He can’t understand the revelations of the Spirit because they are ONLY discovered by the illumination of the Spirit. TPT

Now, Christians under the influence of Flesh cannot say outright, that they have their own Philosophies and beliefs, so they have surreptitiously coined the phrase: “my personal Opinion” where they have arguments about scriptures and [especially] Rules.

1Co 8:1-2 Now let me address the issue of food offered in sacrifice to idols. IT SEEMS THAT EVERYONE BELIEVES HIS OWN OPINION IS RIGHT ON THIS MATTER. HOW EASILY WE GET PUFFED UP OVER OUR OPINIONS! But love builds up the structure of our new life. If anyone thinks of himself as a know-it-all, he still has a lot to learn. TPT

KJV and many other versions use “Knowledge” in place of TPT’s “Opinion”, but it’s all the same, even as Human Philosophy.

When many Christians don’t want to obey a certain Rule, they claim/pretend that they understand it differently or they have their own opinion.

2Pe 1:20-21 BEING CONSCIOUS IN THE FIRST PLACE THAT NO MAN BY HIMSELF MAY GIVE A SPECIAL SENSE TO THE WORDS OF THE PROPHETS. FOR THESE WORDS DID NOT EVER COME THROUGH THE IMPULSE OF MEN: but the prophets had them from God, being moved by the Holy Spirit. BBE

Well, we’re not really talking about personal scriptural interpretations here, but rather the alterations of Divine Rules to suit personal idiosyncrasies and fuel [cunning] rebellions.

So, what commonly happens is that where one has a LAW that he is not comfortable with, his fleshly mind formulates multiple laws to [surreptitiously] counter and suppress that law.

Eze 2:3-4 He said to me, “Son of man, I am sending you to the house of Israel, to rebellious nations who have rebelled against me; both they and their fathers have revolted against me to this very day. THE PEOPLE TO WHOM I AM SENDING YOU ARE OBSTINATE AND HARD-HEARTED, and you must say to them, ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says.’ NET

Many Christians are bold and would readily argue anything that obstructs their “comfort”.

Isa 45:9 Cursed is he who has an argument with his Maker, the pot which has an argument with the Potter! Will the wet earth say to him who is working with it, What are you doing, that your work has nothing by which it may be gripped? BBE

May there not be any “Strange Laws” found under your record, by which you live your Life and serve God your own way, IN JESUS NAME.

See you on Friday, as we proceed with this Subtopic.

Brother Prince

Wednesday, April 17, 2024

08055125517; 08023904307

[semischarmed]

Projection

Have I ever told you about how the astral plane works? So, here’s a little secret about me. I’ve been dabbling the past few years a little in lucid dreaming. Well, it turns out I have a knack for it, and it’s amazing, I can go around doing whatever I want. I climbed Mount Everest, flew through the skies, visited Paris. The possibilities are literally endless. And, me being me, I like to go around in these dreams trying different ways at possessing people.

Of course, since it’s still a dream at the end of the day, the experience is somewhat detached. As fucking hot as it is, flooding my dream self inside my hot neighbor, or phasing into that cute barista at the Starbucks down the street, I always wake up to a sense of disappointment. There’s only so much the brain can make up. I’m not particularly smart or imaginative either, so it honestly feels like half my energy is spent just trying to maintain that dream.

So that led me to try other means. Of course, the next logical step was astral projection. Unlike a dream, when you project, you yourself are experiencing the world- the real world. I wanted to try my hand at projecting into people.

I found a book online that detailed specific steps on how to achieve this. I think this was where the trouble began. In addition to being a great lucid dreamer, I was apparently an astral projection savant. The book mentioned it could take months before I could manifest my full body outside the physical plane, and years before I could untether and explore the world. It took me two days before I was able to leave my own body and jump inside people.

All things considered, astral projection is a bit of a dead end. I thought I’d be able to jump inside people, control them, live as them, fuck as them, the works. Well, the human body is resilient. It knows what soul belongs in it, so there’s not much to do inside someone, you can’t really influence what they do, and people seem to pick up on the odd sensation of someone else being in the room with them, so even when I do jump inside someone masturbating or fucking, half of them stop on the spot. Still, when you’re in someone who’s a little more fearless, you feel their body as them, and, let me just say, it’s hot being inside someone when they masturbate. It’s like feeling your own hand do the deed, but you feel it as them. You feel every muscle, every feeling, every thought. The hot ones kind of suck at it, but the afterglow is pure bliss.

This book gives one strange rule on projection though: Twins, especially identical ones, are unique. They hold a special bond. “Do not project into a twin.” Given this ominous warning and my curiosity, and given how much of an expert I already was at this whole projecting thing, I had no choice but to try.

———

The first time I projected into a twin, was magical. Of course, I knew immediately who I wanted to test this on. The hot twins who lived down the street who were especially close. They seemed to have different people over all the time so at the very least, they were active. I had my sights on one particular twin: Chase. Goddamn what a specimen.

I decided to go into a sleeping Chase as a trial run during one of my late nights. The twins apparently slept on the same bed, which was a bit weird but was perhaps a testament to to their closeness. I thought it was kind of cute. Like with all projection, the body resists the intrusion and I have to claw my way into him. Easy enough.

Chase’s twin Caleb immediately stirred with eyes closed in confusion- “Chase... are you there?” The slumbering Chase did not respond. Upon closer inspection, I caught sight of Caleb’s slumbering form talking to the spirit of Chase that he took inside himself. Oh shit does this mean what I think it means? Then I decided to move inside Chase’s body while his form followed my spirit’s commands. I knew it.

The first thing I did once I realized I had full control of Chase, of course, was to start playing with this new dick. In my excitement, I was immediately drawn back into my own form, awoken by my raging hard-on. Damn it! Fucking tease. I decided to finish beating it out, with Chase’s hot bod on my mind and a resolve from then on to get better at this projecting thing and stay longer inside him.

I made a fascinating discovery that day- a discovery that had probably prompted that ominous message in the first place. Twins are already naturally connected in spirit, so when you astral project into a twin, you can displace them and the owner’s spirit actually has a welcome place to go.

———

The second time I projected into a twin, I went into the wrong one. Equally unfortunate  was that they seemed to have just had a fight, sitting in and angry silence before going to their respective rooms. I really should have done more research as far as who lived where because the person’s back that I slammed into was none other than Caleb. Likewise, it was apparently possible for twins to resist the displacement. This one was a fighter. The first thing I try to do in his body is flow into each limb and untether him. This proved to be fruitless, as he was easily able to fend off my attacks, kicking me right out of his body. I wasn’t one to lose a challenge so I again attempted a different route this time, concentrating all of me into his mind- control the mind and the body follows. Failure again. My final route was perhaps the cruelest, I expanded and positioned my soul to encompass all of him and began an all out barrage for control of his bod. Back and forth, my spirit squeezed in and out into him from all sides until he could no longer defend himself.

Finally, his soul submitted and I felt an emptying motion, accompanied by a quick shout from the other room. “H-What the fuck!” Chase barged in, visibly shaking, hands on his head in a mix of pain and confusion. He looked at me intently with an emotion I could not attribute. In response I gave a quick smirk and flipped him off with his own body before stating “Caleb, you’re pretty cute too. You like this? This is mine now.” As I start doing poses with his body, the emotion of my temporary twin became clear. Desire.

I stripped shirtless and began doing push-ups with his body, easily clearing 70 before finally breaking a sweat. I stood up and raised my Caleb arms, imbuing the room with his scent. Caleb looked on from Chase’s body with silent intent.

I then used Caleb’s nose to sniff his own armpits, used his own tongue to lick it clean, used his own mouth to flash him a demented smile. “Caleb, you taste very good, just like your hot brother,” I stated “-cmon, join meeee Chase... let’s do something sacrilegious” I ended with a wink. Of course, my fucking body woke up again, just when it was getting good. In the process, Chase also fell unconscious, as the real Caleb returned to himself. As I felt the last of my spirit be pulled back, and the waking world return, I caught the troubling sight of Caleb, back inside his own body, furiously masturbating over the events that had transpired.

——-

The third time I projected into a twin, he fell into depravity with me. Truth be told, I was again making a beeline right for Chase because, come on, look this face. Just as I was about to claim that tight ass, I felt myself get dragged into Caleb. A-fucking-gain. This time felt different though- he was still in the body with me. That in itself wasn’t too odd, given our fight from last time, but even  stranger this time around was that his body was willing. It readily welcomed my soul. His form followed my spirit’s every move, yet I still felt his soul present, compliant. I decided to do what I meant to do in Chase and began masturbating. At the end of the day, they were twins after all, Caleb was still fucking hot to cum through, and I was not one to miss an opportunity.

“Well I think today’s little trip is gonna be a two-for one” I said with his voice as I finished. I then purged myself from Caleb’s physical form and headed straight for Chase until I felt a part of my current body pull me back. My spectral form attempted to claw myself back towards Chase, but Caleb’s pull had been too strong. He wasn’t letting me go. My spirit recoiled and slammed right back into his and I felt a part of myself stain Caleb. “I didn’t say you could leave,” he commanded, forcing me to watch as he began to rub our body with his warm seed. Hot. We both brought some of it up to our shared mouth, taking in all that we had just completed. “If you want, I’ll let you go so you can go inside that asshole Chase”, he states, “Make him dirty like me...or I’ll have to”. That last line definitely threw me off. Though I meant to to investigate further, I again felt the pull of the waking world from my own body. He moaned a quick “thank you” before passing out.

The return trip to myself equally odd. The human body naturally resists a little before accepting a spirit, even when it’s the owner of that body but somehow mine accepted me with no push back. Something was off.

Still, being inside these twins was fucking hot and I was not going to let a few unfounded fears stop me. I set plans for my return trip to them.

———

The fourth time I projected into a twin was also the most impactful. I once again aimed for Chase, but immediately ran into a confusing sight...

Standing before me was Chase, or rather, Chase’s body, unconscious in frozen discomfort. As far as his soul, however, I could see its form convulsing and contorting in pain. I then catch sight of the cause of that pain- Caleb’s spectral form was somehow deep inside Chase’s filling into him. It’s like watching an infection in real-time.

I stood, or rather hovered, in silence at the bizarre display I had witnessed. Evidently, that was a mistake, because before I aimed to leave this terrifying sight and head back, I notice Chase’s unconscious form raise its head, turn right at me and give me a toothy, wicked smile. “I can see you”. Chase’s body licks its lips. “You probably didn’t know this but independent little Chase over here has been planning on leaving for a while now. Said we should split. Move to a different cities. Live out our own.” Chase’s body opens it’s eyes and starts walking to Caleb’s slumbering form. He leans over and starts making out with the unconscious Caleb. “Oh Caleb” he moans “Don’t worry. I’m never gonna leave you” Chase’s lips gently pry open Caleb’s and he snakes his tongue inside. Parts of Caleb’s cheek puff up and back down as Chase’s tongue explores every crevice. He sucks a little before letting out a satisfied sigh “so...so that’s what I taste like,” he says breathlessly.

Chase then starts playing with himself right next to his twin’s sleeping form and I couldn’t help but get a bit aroused. “You always were the hotter twin” Chase says to himself as he continues tracing his own calloused hands all over. His attention moves to the unconscious Caleb, who he stops first to ponder for a moment before beginning to pump. He then positions Chase’s mouth over his original body to expertly deepthroat his own dick. This stirs the Caleb body to life, and he makes them both finish on each other off.

With both bodies, Caleb finishes licking himself clean. “Since it’s all me over here, this is technically just masturbating” he says confidently, as if to justify the disturbing sight I just witnessed. Caleb then positions Chase’s sweaty body behind his and has Chase wrap his sweaty biceps into an embrace from behind. “Like I said bro [moan], I’m never leaving you”. Two amused pairs of eyes then look directly at me. “You’re never leaving us either right? We have to thank you somehow for this,” they say, gesturing at their incestuous selves. I am immediately creeped out. After thinking for a few seconds, they chime in unison “Welcome to the family! We have a present for you”. With that, Caleb drops unconscious. That was signal enough for me, giving me shock I need to head straight back for my body.

Of course, by the time I get there, I instead see my own self, sitting naked, eyes rolled back and moaning as he maneuvers my hands all over. I see him continue to explore me, twisting my nipples, which, fuck that feels good, masturbating me, using my own body to maneuver in ways I never did before. With Caleb inside, my body moves with a confidence I never had. The experience is surreal. The sheer pleasure more or less stuns my soul on the spot. When my physical body finishes cumming, Caleb brings our hands to scoop it up and, oddly, it tasted different- slightly salty, slightly sweet, slightly Caleb. He sniffs our armpit and, again, the scent was rank, putrid, and nothing I’ve ever created. What was coming out of my body was undeniably Caleb.

“Mmmmmm... property of Caleb now” he says with my voice, as he rubs my Caleb-smelling sweat all over. Admittedly this was kind of hot. With an assured stride that I didn’t know my body could perform, Caleb opens my door, greeted by a Chase carrying his own unconscious twin. Caleb brings my body to his own and starts defiling himself. He turns his own body around and starts fucking it with my penis. Fuck that also feels good. With each pump, his own body starts to animate, ever so slightly. When he finally cums, my physical form falls unconscious and Caleb stirs awake. I take this as my chance to get back inside me. Success.. and god with Caleb smeared all over me, I smell disgustingly good.

“You’ll never leave me, right?” The body in front of me questioned. I’m a bit taken aback and try to stammer out a response “Uh...-“ before I could finish, Chase penetrates me from behind. “That would be a no” He whispers before giving my ear a playful bite. Why did he have to be so cute. This whole series of events was something straight out of my dreams. Despite this, my self preservation instincts kick into overdrive. Whatever this is, however good this feels, I need to get out. Fast.

As if he could read my mind, Caleb’s body smiles as he makes his twin use his rough fingers to gently grab my hair and pull me back. He leans Chase over to give me a deep, sensual kiss. “Oh well, Chase isn’t here anymore. Caleb took me, all of me. We’ve always had a deep connection... but he wanted more-I trusted him and he used that love to get inside me, pervert my soul... he’s in so deep inside me now that Caleb is all that’s left.” He wipes his sweaty face all over mine and continues making out. He then starts gyrating his hips, pushing more of himself inside my body as the Caleb body does the opposite and swallows more of my still-hardened rod with his ass. I feel the throbbing almost impossibly deep inside me from Chase’s dick as they proceed. “Thank you for this” they moan in unison.

They continue humping me from both sides, locking me in a paralyzed bliss. “We wanted to give you something special for keeping us close” they say. Then I felt it in my soul. Caleb. He pulls my spirit out and with his twin souls begin to fuck me in the astral plane. The feeling is indescribable. Nirvana. Bliss. Ecstasy. Enveloped by and merged to Caleb and Chase’s spectral forms, completion. This could be me. This could be us forever.

Then reality snaps back and I am floating alone. I finally regain my composure I try to head back to my unconscious, smiling body. No dice. “Occupied” it says with a chuckle. I head for Chase’s instead, “mmmm getting close” it moans. My body grins wider and motions to the unconscious Caleb. He spits with both bodies at his own motionless form. “Go ahead, take you new place, Caleb”. With no other option, I fill into the empty Caleb shell.

Chase and my body then start fucking each other. Hard. Messy. He’s doing more things with my body that I didn’t even know was possible, and as the original owner of my body, and the current inhabitant of Caleb’s, I feel both motions amplified. Im sure he feels the same.

As Chase, he turns my body around, and again rams his thick dick inside. My body involuntarily gasps, which causes me to gasp inside of Caleb. He forces a wicked, dirty smile out of my body’s face as he plunges ever deeper. He slips Chase’s sweaty abs onto my body’s back, wraps tone, sweaty Chase biceps over mine into an armlock from behind and takes plump Chase lips into a quick peck on my body’s cheek. My body then sags unconscious. Despite the sight, the smell throughout the sweaty combination was undeniably just Caleb’s.

Chase’s eyes flutter and his body trembles as Caleb repossessed his twin’s body with the extra soul he stuffed mine with. With double the soul inside, Chase exudes double the vitality and in that sweaty embrace, Caleb again gyrated his twin’s body into mine as he fills it with double the seed- double the soul. “T-thank you for the house warming present. I’ll take real good care of you-you’ll take real good care of us” he moans, as Chase’s body now goes unconscious as well. Dread fills me.

Aside from the odd cases with twins, human bodies know who their masters are. The act of imbuing a soul into a different body is, in and of itself, unnatural. So it was at this point that my empty body starts involuntarily writhing, trying to escape. I see tears well in my closed eyes, still unconscious from effort. Of course, as Caleb, I motion to protect myself from whatever was going to occur next and set to pull my unconscious form off the Chase embrace. Before I could pull my body out of the entrapment, it shoots awake, face swinging upward to face me. Bright white eyes shoot open. Behind my skin I see a force pushing deep inside, stretching it unnaturally. The visage of Chase appears, beneath my flesh, wearing my face like a mask. Though it’s Chase’s spirit he melds, the smile growing is undeniably Caleb. When it all settles, eyes roll back into place. Instead of my normal eyes, Chase’s pale blue orbs appear in their place. The crooked smile grows to a laugh on my body, teeth looking odd, until I realize it was Chase’s own molars poking through my own mouth. He takes shallow breaths and smears more sweat around himself, and though I can’t place if it was my own body’s sweat or Chase’s, the smell emanating is fully Caleb. Bones crack, skin shivers and stretch and contract and construct and I feel, from my own soul, a massive wave of nausea.

If astral projection into another is, in itself, an unnatural act, astral displacement, astral merging was another layer of corruption entirely, it was unholy. He was changing something in me, fundamentally. Wave after wave of Chase’s flesh bleed into my body from Caleb’s onslaught. My nausea shifts into a unique pain, a pain of the soul, originating from where he stuffed my physical form full of Chase’s seed-Caleb’s seed, mixing and amalgamating us into a wholly new being. Musculature appears in place of the frame of my body’s previous shape as more and more of it is twisted and contorted. Then, perhaps in one last push of defiance, my body screams involuntarily, and I, in Caleb, scream.

“So you’ll never leave me, like he planned to” Caleb says, with a mix of my voice and his, as he rams the last, massive part of himself into my body. My physical form’s face contorts in discomfort one last time before Caleb settles it into satisfaction. “Look at us” he states as he runs vascular new hands over my body’s new face and then uses that new face to give me a seductive wink. “We’re cute as a button”. The transformation was complete- my old self no longer recognizable in the new brother he had created.

The change, of course, had hit my soul as well. From inside Caleb I screamed...convulsed...shook... moaned... you know, the works. When that last bit of Caleb dug inside my spirit and changed me, I truly felt him, felt my twin, felt his love. I’ll be a better Chase for him than Chase ever was. Our souls are bonded for life. I am a part of Caleb now, and he is a part of me. Everyone experiences it differently, but we’re all grateful after to have Caleb inside us, to be a part of something greater. I like to think I have the extra privilege of being his twin, new and improved, wearing his old body’s skin while he wears and controls mine. And sometimes, with his permission, I get to play around inside the others. Sometimes we switch and he lets me jump inside Chase, like I’m doing now. The only body off limits is my old one. I like to think that makes me special, it’s the only body Caleb keeps his soul in 100 percent of the time. It’s proof of our special connection. And he wears the new me so well, better than I ever could anyways.

And, well, that takes us to today doesn’t it? Why even tell you all of this? Caleb likes you. I like you. We like you. And we think it’s time to expand the family again. You got some good traits to work with- we’ll get a lot use out of that bod, after a few adjustments. You’re probably feeling a little sleepy now. Sorry, guilty, that was me. Oh this thick Chase dick you feel inching deeper inside your ass? Yep, obviously also me. But, cmon future bro, dig deeper, listen with your body. What else are you feeling? Do you feel our love, throbbing in you? Do you something else, leaking inside? Do you feel these calloused Chase hands pulling you ever deeper into us? Do you feel him? Do you feel Caleb already worming himself into you? Good. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you. You’re gonna love us. We’re gonna be fucking hot together after we’re done with you. Welcome Home.

—End —

Wanted to explore something a little different with this one. Hope y'all like it!

#male possession #twin possession #male body swap

[littlemisslipbalm]

“your turn”

Harry Styles was a romantic. He hated weddings. Rori Williams was practical. She hated weddings, too. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue.

A story of two semi-strangers to lovers with weddings, drunken confessions, and girls with two names.

gif has nothing to do with it but he looks fancy and i like it :) tpwk

Hi! this is for @meetmeinfleetwood to lovers fic challenge! and it’s a little cruel of me to post it today after those wedding pics came out but i have been working on this for awhile and tomorrow’s the deadline so if it’s too soon im sorry and if its just what you need enjoy! I used prompts 12 and 15! It’s my first ofc story which is a little strange for me but i wanted to use a name for this, but besides her hair and eye color and a name she’s pretty generic,,, idk thank you all for always reading and all of that. lmk what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated

Word Count: 9.3k | Warnings: drinking, swearing, implied? smut (couldn’t bring my heart to write any my apologies), harry being a silly drunk, mentions of being afraid of someone taking advantage of someone under the influence but ofc no! actual any misconduct -- a SITCH wedding!!! so cute ::))

Harry Styles was a romantic.

He loved love songs that professed their undying love for their significant other. He loved romance movies, rom coms especially, because they were happy and in love and he got to cry and laugh all in one. He loved writing his own songs about love and he loved spreading the idea of loving and treating others with kindness. He loved first dates and the relationships that sometimes sprouted out of them. He loved reading books about love and how to make it last. He loved poetry that waxed eloquent about love. He loved love.

He hated weddings.

Well, he hadn’t always hated weddings. In the beginning, they were like every other aspect of love, he loved them. But slowly, as he kept receiving announcements of engagement and wedding invitations and he kept not sending out letters of his own, his aversion grew.

Sure, he still loved going. He still wept for the happy couples when they committed themselves to each other. He still clapped profusely and danced to the dj or live band. He still tried to enjoy it. But with weddings he had a nagging sense in the back of his head reminding him that he still hadn’t found it yet. Each of his relationships had fallen short in some way as to not lead him to this destination. So when he sat at his assigned table at these various gatherings, he held a bit of apprehension, a bit of envy, about everything going on. He knew that his smiles were all a little forced and his laugh not quite genuine. His thoughts always managed to be controlled by his green-eyed monster that he always attempted to keep locked away. But at weddings, especially when the alcohol started flowing, he had a harder time controlling it.

Seeing all his friends getting together, getting married, and having children wore on him. Wore him thin more than he ever let on to anyone but his therapist. And his therapist couldn’t seem to give him a better answer than to be patient and not give up hope.

By 2021, Harry had decided that maybe he was just meant to be alone. Love was something he could admire, but it wasn’t meant for him. He could chase it, but it would never let him have it. He was unlucky in love and by Sarah and Mitch’s wedding in the Spring, he had come to terms with it.

He had even been optimistic for it, being Mitch’s Best Man and all had gotten his hopelessly romantic heart all aflutter. He was introduced to Sarah’s Maid of Honor, Renee Williams and she had been lovely. She was 31, a little older than Harry - but age wasn’t something that deterred him, and she had worked with Sarah in Los Angeles before Harry recruited Sarah for the band. They were best of friends and Sarah had known for a long time that Renee would be her Maid of Honor.

When Harry met Renee, he was sure that she was meant to be his person. She was beautiful and hilarious, her beauty mark at the side of her lip was so utterly unique he called her a “right Marilyn”. She insisted she was not a Marilyn Monroe type at all and had laughed. Harry had charmed her with his expert flirting and claimed that just because she was a brunette didn’t mean she was a Marilyn. She had smiled and bantered through the rehearsal dinner with him at her side. He was entranced, it had to be Renee, he had been so sure of it.

When Renee had walked down the aisle just before Sarah, Harry had been sure of it. When Renee had smiled at Harry as Mitch slipped on Sarah’s wedding band, Harry had been sure of it. When he had hooked his arm around hers as they walked down the aisle and into a foyer, Harry had been sure of it. When she laughed at his jokes while they waited for their wedding party photos to be taken, Harry had been sure of it.

When Renee walked up to Harry at the reception with another man wrapped around her, Harry wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Corey,” Renee smiles giddily between the two men.

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’ and he swallows harshly before blinking and putting on a sweet smile. He thrusts his right hand out for Corey to shake.

“Hullo, mate,” Harry says happily.

Corey greets Harry, extending his hand to meet Harry’s with a warm smile and a “how are you”. Harry laughs boisterously and takes a sip of his champagne flute. They shake hands with a firm up and down motion.

“Planning on getting really drunk,” Harry says in response to Corey’s question. “Have a great night, you two,” he finishes and stalks off for a refill.

Renee watches him go with a little bit of a confused look on her face. She sees him tilt his head back and finish his drink before turning to face her boyfriend and peck his cheek. She mumbles to him, “He’s a really nice guy, wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off the past few days. All these people must make him antsy.”

He nods back to her, “They must.”

Harry sidles up to the open bar, discarding his empty flute and exchanging it for a much stronger drink.

“Tequila. Neat...Please.” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls that are slowly becoming less and less coiffed. His fingers slide to the collar of his shirt and tug, attempting to loosen it a little.

“Rough night already?” Someone asks from beside him.

His face turns to them and sees a smiling brunette. Her eyes are big, larger than most eyes he’s come across. They’re brown with tinges of gold and green, likely making them hazel by her standard since most people prefer saying hazel eyes to brown. Her smile is bright and clean and if Harry hadn’t already heard her speak he would assume she was American from that smile. It was perfect, too perfect - the teeth both straight and blindingly white.

He raises his eyebrows at her and thinks about his response. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them parted, but he remains silent when the bartender hands him his tequila. Harry wraps a specifically less ringed hand tonight, he had forgone his ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings as well as the rest of them actually on his left hand. His right hand still had two: the large flashing lavender gemstone encrusted in a gold casing from Stevie Nicks on his middle finger and then a clean gold signet ring with little crosses on the sides on the adjacent ring finger. Every other finger was noticeably empty. So when he picks up the glass there is no familiar clink which draws the attention of himself.

The woman doesn’t pay any attention to his hand, she’s still waiting for him to respond to her question, as well as waiting for her other drink to be made. She was taking advantage of the two drink system and getting two for herself right now, so she didn’t have to come back until much later.

“You have no idea,” is how Harry decides to respond and then turns to leave. He forgets about the woman and sits at his assigned table for his entire drink, talking casually with the people who come to speak with him.

When he's finished, he goes back to the bar to order a second tequila. He thinks about the girl who had stared at him with her big brown eyes. How she had seen him and thought to ask how his night was when it seemed to be going to shit. And how he had blown her off with barely a glance. God, he could be such a prick. After he receives his drink, he forgets yet again and continues to drown his sorrows in the golden liquid that helps him numb the pain that he had once again missed out on his fairytale love story.

The girl Harry had run into sat in the corner of the ballroom for the majority of the night. She settled on just having that first round of drinks for herself and one glass of obligatory champagne during the toasts. Other than that, she had promised herself she wouldn’t get drunk and go off with a random stranger. This was not a wedding for that. This wedding couldn’t be for that. She just needed to keep her head low and try to have a semi-pleasant time.

When she was nursing her champagne through the toasts, the man at the bar caught her eye again. She knew who he was. He was the Best Man after all. Sarah talked about him a lot, even Renee after the past few days, but seeing him at the bar had been the first time she’d ever seen him up that close. It was strange, he was so human. So tangible in that moment. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His fingers tapped as they waited for his drink. His green eyes blinked and darted around as he took in his surroundings and even looked at her. He simply was and it had startled her to see him in a slightly bewildered state at the bar, but again, she wasn’t one to judge.

Get through the wedding. Try to have a semi-pleasant time.

It was time for the Best Man’s speech. Renee had just given the Maid of Honor’s and now Harry was up. He stood up and wavered a little as he tried to stand up straight. The neat tequila likely makes his stance a little harder to maintain. Mitch looks up at Harry at his side and smiles fondly.

Harry raises one hand in an awkward wave while the other is planted firmly on the table.

“Hullo,” he starts, “I’m Harry and I’m the Best Man, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

The entire group of guests laugh wholeheartedly, taken by the talented young man.

“To start,” he stutters, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol he’s had, and his smile slithers into a smirk. “Let’s hear it for the bride and groom, the lovely Sarah and Mitch Jones!”

Queue the laughter again. Harry laughs too when Mitch slaps his arm playfully, he turns to look at him with a mock ‘what did I do wrong’ expression.

“I had a speech written out, took a week to write, made it nice and poetic for these two lovebirds, but it seems I’ve misplaced it,” he pats at his pockets and sighs before rubbing his forefinger at his bottom lip. “I hate weddings.”

Everyone laughs again, thinking he’s joking. Harry grimaces but it passes as a smile even though she can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes.

He rambles on for a few minutes about love and commitment, how this is just the beginning for Sarah and Mitch and everyone laughs at the appropriate times and just when he’s wrapping up, successfully stumbling through his messy mind, everyone begins to clap.

“To the happy couple…” queue applause, but she sees him say something else, it’s drowned out by the crowd cheering and clinking glasses again.

He sits back down, downing his champagne glass that’s been refilled twice already during the speeches. Mitch leans over and whispers something in Harry’s ear as he twists a hand through his hair. Harry shifts away from Mitch and gives him a look, telling Mitch that he’s fine.

The party goes on, a few more speeches, a few more glasses of champagne for Harry, a few more sighs from the girl in the back of the room.

She watches the first dance of Mitch and Sarah but once that part is over she slinks off. She’s got half a drink left and all she wants is to be alone. Tired of the party, tired of the people, tired of having to try to have a good time. The Rowland-Jones Party had rented the entire place out, so she wanders out of the main room and down a hallway until the music is a faint buzz in her ear. The air grows colder as the amount of people dwindles from over a hundred to one.

There’s a door to her right that has an intricate golden handle that she pulls down on. It opens quietly onto a similar ballroom that is slightly smaller than the one the party was going on in. It’s quiet and spacious, her steps echo as she enters on heeled feet. The clicking of her satin stilettos resonate against the linoleum. She walks to the center of the room and turns around herself, lifting her head to the light in the room. An ornate chandelier is still above her, it’s the same gold as the handle that let her in. Her eyes travel to the walls that contain swirls of gold as well, everything was encrusted in gold and splotchy vintage mirrors. It was beautiful and she saw herself in the reflection of one of those splotchy vintage mirrors and actually felt beautiful in that moment.

No one else saw her but herself and she thought she was beautiful, a fleeting thought as she watched her body move. No one to watch as her reflection swayed with her. Her lavender dress swished back and forth, the end of it brushing around her ankles. The tulle fabric climbed her torso, cinching at her waist and draping over her breasts. The sleeves fluttered over her shoulders and ended midway down her upper arm. The somewhat sheer material made her tan skin look all the more carmely in the golden light of the chandelier. Her pendant necklace was silver and glinted in the light as it sat evenly over her exposed clavicle and decolletage.

In the corner opposite of the door there was a single table with three chairs. It seemed whoever was meant to put things away had grown tired and left these out. She wasn’t complaining as she crossed the floor to take a seat. It was the perfect escape. It was quiet and not too cold in the room, which was especially nice since she had left her jacket in the coat room. What wasn’t so nice is that her phone had died and she had nothing to do in the room. It wasn’t horrible though, she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She just feared what would happen if she sat alone too long with no escape of the internet to drown those thoughts.

That contemplation was squashed with an unwitting solution not ten minutes later. She had been sitting at the table, sipping her drink occasionally and staring at the chandelier. Sighing with content that it was finally silent beside the clink of her melting ice cubes. The house mixed drink was strong, but with each passing second it grew more and more diluted. She considered herself completely sober.

She only questioned that when she noticed a second person in the room. She hadn’t heard them open the door, but she heard their loud footsteps shortly after.

He all but stumbled in and was entranced by the chandelier like she had been. He walks to the center in a similar fashion and twists around, only this time his balance isn’t as good as hers. He ends up on his ass, legs splayed in front of him and hands behind him only cushioning his fall a little. He lets out a huff, “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face before bringing it down to look around the room again. His eyes are foggy with alcohol, everything hazy and slightly blurry. It feels like he’s moving with superspeed but as she watches him with a tilted head she wonders why he’s moving so slowly.  

He squints while looking around after a moment, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. His tongue comes to wet his lips, but this time it's for a touch too long like he’s genuinely tasting the liquor on them. She raises her brows, observing him, her presence seemingly unknown.

“Oi, you!” He slurs the words and points lazily at her reclined in her chair. “Are you real?”

She half smiles and replies with a simple ‘yes’.

“I like your dress,” he says merely like he was stating a fact rather than giving a compliment. His hair falling into his eyes again despite him just pushing it back.

“Thanks.”

He makes his way to standing, his process rather ungraceful. He twists onto his hands and knees and begins to push himself up. He slips once before making it to full standing, he sways slightly and looks around again like he’s forgotten why he stood up. His eyes land on her again and he decides to make his way over to the table.

“You should probably sit,” she says, watching him splay his arms around him to keep his balance. She had seen him an hour and a half ago and he seemed fine, but now he seemed absolutely and utterly pissed.

“Thanks, mum,” he says as he thunks into the seat beside her, his hand waving off her suggestion.

Her brows raise at the slightly rude comment, but she leans back in her seat still observing him.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She asks once he’s settled and has his head propped up with one of his hands. She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him scan her face again, trying to see if he recognizes her.

His mind must come up empty, a vague memory of the bar slipping away without a second thought.

“It was a joke,” he shrugs.

“No it wasn’t,” she replies easily.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward a little shakily, “Who are you?”

“Aurora.” She licks at her own lips, a stray bit of liquid lingering on her lips.

“That’s a Disney princess name,” he says, unconvinced, how most drunk people were when you told them the truth.

“And my great-grandmother’s and mine,” she responds, a grin playing on her lips as she watches him think it over. “It’s wild how multiple people can have the same name. Did you know people can share a last name as well?”

He leans back in his chair now, unhappy with her snarky response.

“Isn’t that why we’re here, two people joining together and sharing the same last name now?” He threads his fingers as he speaks, mimicking something coming together.

“Yep,” She perks at the question he poses. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raise once playfully.

“What?” Harry seemed to have lost the plot, his fuzzy drunken brain choosing to forget the first thing she asked him while in this private ballroom of theirs.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She repeats, louder and with emphasis, the words echoing this time.

“Oh,” he looks up to the ceiling and blows air past his lips harshly, “S’ a long story.”

“We got all night,” she offers, and raises her glass to her lips once again.

“A night wouldn’t even cover half of it,” he ponders seriously, his mind reeling. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Why me?”  She laughs like she’s just received the most delightful surprise.

“Because,” He starts and then sits quiet for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the table as he peers at her, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You only just met me,” she responds. “Not to mention, you’re drunk as fuck, Best Man. Just minutes ago I watched you stumble in here and truly fall on your ass.”

“Then tell me about yourself and I’ll explain my hatred for weddings.”

“You’re awfully good at bargaining for being this inebriated.”

“I never lose my charm, no matter how pissed I may be,” he smirks and gives a sloppy wink, hair falling in his face yet again.

She scoffs, but she is rather amused and intrigued by the man beside her. His tie now completely loosened, hair falling every which way, and his green eyes set on her. The shiny shoes he wore slipped around on the ground as he shuffled his feet below him like a child wanting to go play. She figured it was just his drunk brain trying to amuse himself or something. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue. She at least had to entertain the foolish notion that maybe he actually was interested in getting to know her. If anything, it would help pass the time until she could go home.

“I’ll bite,” she relents.

The smirk doesn’t leave his face, it only widens, “Only if I can, too.”

“I wasn’t saying-”

“Shush, sh-sh-shush. I know that,” he holds a hand up at her, trying to get her to be quiet. He sways again, even in his seat he looks as if he could fall over at any moment. She wondered if he might not remember this tomorrow. “I was bein’...” he licks his lips in a pause, “suggestive.”

She laughs again, knowing his sober brain probably would have chosen a more articulate and suave word since ‘suggestive’ was rather tactless and more straight to the point. If she learned anything from all the conversations she overhead about him, Harry was definitely one for tact.

“You were something, that’s for sure,” she wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, she draws the hand down from its hovering state and lays it against the table again. She withdraws her own hand back to her glass, her drink almost completely gone now.

He smiles, pleased with himself, but unaware that his charms had worn off with his exorbitant amount of alcohol consumed. At least on this girl they weren’t working. She had never been attracted to people who were too drunk to help themselves and she always hoped that’s how others felt too. She was thankful he had stumbled in on her rather than someone who didn’t feel the same way. It made her sick to think of what someone with evil intentions might do if they came across a babbling drunken version of Harry. Pushing those thoughts away since that wasn’t the case, she decided to pat his hand once just in reassurance to herself and him that this was really happening.

“I’m twenty-five.” She states.

Harry nods, a small smile on his lips now rather than a smirk as he watches her again. He liked how smoothly she moved rather than the rest of the world in his drunken eyes, everything else was choppy and fast. She was elegant and fluid, calming even.

“I love love,” Harry says, eyes remaining on hers, no trace of a joke in his tone, “And it hates me.”

“That can’t be true,” she squints at him, a frown gracing her face for a moment at the sadness she sees in his watery eyes. Not crying watery, just watery from his drunken state.

He says nothing, waiting for her to offer more information about herself before he says anything else. This was the deal after all. She quickly realizes why he isn’t responding and sighs, conversation with drunks was tedious already, but Harry seemed determined to make it even harder.

“I’m from California.”

“They always are,” Harry mutters to himself. He ignores her hum of a question, asking what he just said with a simple sound. “All my friends, they’re either getting married or they’re already married and got kids on the way or whatever. They all found love and I’m just here with fuck all.”

She sincerely doubts what the drunken man is telling her right now, but she knows how to play the game now to get more information. “I hate my job,” she states.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed, like I fucked up one too many times and now I’m doomed to never find love.”

Her eyes widen at this, he sounds so damn sad and she wishes she could take his pain away. She knew what a good guy and she couldn’t imagine why he would deserve to feel this way. No one deserved to feel like they weren’t worthy of love. His sad state truly almost brought her to tears. She’s there in a stunned silence and Harry is confused why she hasn’t said anything more about herself. It was her turn.

“What’s something else about you?” He asks, his hand fiddling with itself on the table. She notices once again that there aren’t as many rings on his fingers as what she thought was usual.

She licks her lips and reaches her hand forward. She grasps Harry’s fiddling hand and stops his movement. “I feel sorry that you feel this way, no one deserves the kind of pain you’re inflicting on yourself. I’m very very sorry for you, Harry.”

“That’s not really…” He trails off, losing his focus on her face and instead looking at their hands touching. The feeling is so intense in his buzzing body. Her touch was so calming compared to the electric feeling in his body. It felt nice.

“Can I ask you a different question and then I’ll tell you something no one knows about me?”

He nods eagerly.

“And you can’t dodge the question, you really have to answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did you say at the end of your speech? It got drowned out by applause, but I saw you say something.”

“You noticed?” He asks kind of surprised, then scratches at his eyebrow. He sees her slight glare and knows to get to his answer. “Asked when it’d be my turn…like to fall in love, y’know.”

She sighs, saddened yet again by his words. “Okay, well, here’s my secret... I hate weddings, too.”

Harry’s eyes light up, maybe he really was in love. She purses her lips and pulls back from him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he breathes out, again making a false confession. His drunken brain wants it to be true. He’s desperate for his search to be over, for her to be his person.

She smiles that same sad smile that she keeps getting when he says these sad things to her.

“I assure you, I am not, Best Man.”

He looks at her confusedly. She was beautiful, she was clarity to him. Her brown hair was straight with a little wave in it, like it was straightened for the occasion but never truly that way otherwise. It flowed around her head and shoulders, but she had it tucked behind both ears. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she just simply was beautiful. Her sun tanned skin looked soft under the golden glow and Harry was sure she was an angel or something.

“Why not?” He insists, leaning forward.

She stands up from her seat. He follows clumsily behind her, standing as well. He was still taller than her even in her high heels. He smiled like a lovesick child down at her, his eyes as big as the moon. She bites at her lip as she sees him look at her so lovingly, so misguidedly. Then she leans up towards his face, up on her tiptoes and past his lips. Her hands hold him straight with them curled in his suit’s lapels. She presses a sweet and gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to his jaw than anything.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispers against his skin before pulling away.

His eyes flutter open, his looks at her confusedly, slightly unaware that he had closed his eyes at all.

“Good night…” He had already forgotten her name, something with an A...or was it an O? He’d have to ask Sarah and Mitch about the girl who had talked to him in the empty golden ballroom, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was certain. She was the one - if only he could find out her name. If he remembered this at all or if he just thought it was a dream.

She leaves the room before him and as she leaves she wonders if she maybe should have made sure he was alright, but she figured their talk was sobering enough. The night was ending and she had a sneaking suspicion that there were plenty of people here tonight looking out for him.

-

Harry forgot about the girl in the ballroom. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. He had woken up at Tom’s place where he had said he would stay after the wedding reception so he hadn’t gone home with a girl. He couldn’t remember her name so he couldn’t really ask anyone about her and he didn’t exactly have a lot of people he could ask. He wanted to ask Sarah and Mitch, but they were already off on their honeymoon and he was one of those people who would never bother a couple on their honeymoon. He was too embarrassed to ask Renee and anyone else for that matter.

So, instead, he forgot. Harry forgot about her for three weeks until Sarah and Mitch returned. He had called them for a hike and lunch the moment their plane had landed. He had missed some of his best friends. It was a lull in the year, where he wasn’t touring or in the studio, just living and writing when he felt like it. So maybe he was in need of some inspiration.

“Ah! The Jones’!” He exclaims as he walks up to their parked car at the head of the trail.

Sarah laughs and Mitch rolls his eyes, half-heartedly since he’s just as happy to see Harry as Harry is to see him.

“I missed you,” Mitch says as he brings Harry in for a hug.

“Don’t let the missus hear that,” Harry tuts while he sends a wink over Mitch’s shoulder to Sarah.

“It’s all he could talk about for the past few weeks,” Sarah jokes as she goes in for a hug with Harry. “How do you think Harry is? Hope he’s eating? I miss Harry.” She mimics Mitch’s voice.

Mitch shakes his head shyly, a smile spreading on his face after a moment. “That. Is not true at all,” he assures Harry, “But you do look a little thinner. What have you been eating?”

Harry elbows him with a grin, “I’m fine. Been bored so I’ve just been filling the time with working out.”

They start their ascent up the hill and into the canyon. Mitch nods, his worry for his friend subsiding momentarily before he says something strange.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, but you’ve been gone, about a girl at the wedding.”

“Oh?” Sarah gives Mitch a knowing look.

“Yeah, well the thing is, I’m not sure if she was real or not. I think she was real, but I was so drunk, there’s so many bits missing in my memory.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh. “You were very drunk, H,” Mitch confirms.

Harry ignores him, “I even asked her if she was real and she said yes, but y’know people can lie in dreams. All I remember is she was amazing and she had a princess name, I think.”

Sarah thinks about the guest list. “No princess names that I can think of. What did she look like?”

Harry squints ahead of them, his sunglasses pushing his curls back on the top of his head. “She had straight brown hair, not long or short. She said she was, uh, twenty-five. She was in lavender, I think.”

“You think a lot,” Mitch interjects which earns him a glare from Harry.

Harry thinks about this part that he remembered vividly, how she had been so confident that he wasn’t. He adds, “...And I told her I was in love with her.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Sarah sighs.

Mitch gives Harry an apologetic smile.

“She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t run off either. We talked for awhile.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Sarah says.

“Okay, let’s see,” Mitch grows to be the leader of the investigation, wanting everything for his best friend to find the love he knew he deserved. “Twenty-five year old brunettes at our wedding who are single. C’mon there weren't that many people there.”

Sarah thinks about it again. “Renee’s sister is twenty-five. I don’t remember what she was wearing, I hardly saw her all night,” she pauses, “Which is strange since she wasn’t on the job for once.”

“What do you mean ‘on the job’?” Harry asks curiously, remembering his girl saying she hated her job.”

“She’s a wedding planner,” Sarah says, glancing at him because she was almost sure that Renee’s sister was not who Harry was talking about. “But she had referred me to someone else for the wedding, she consulted sometimes and got us a discount, but said she didn’t like working with people she knew personally.”

Harry nodded, how could Renee’s sister be his girl? How could a wedding planner hate weddings? And wouldn’t it be all the more awkward if the girl was Renee’s sister? Renee’s little sister, could it be? He had no clue.

“I don’t think it’s her, though,” Sarah gives a half-smile, “She’s not super...uh, how do I say this?”

As Sarah says “touchy-feely,” Mitch interjects.

“She’s pretty cold-hearted. She’s relatively nice, but what makes her such a good wedding planner is she doesn’t get caught up in the sentimentality of it, she just understands other people’s emotions and knows how to make them feel amazing.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Sarah looks at Mitch with a strong glare. After all, he was talking about her best friend’s little sister.

“Well, what’s her name?” Harry insists, semi-off put, but knowing her secret made him think it was possible for Renee’s sister and his ballroom girl to be the very same.

“Rori Williams, think it’s short for something else, but I don’t know, as long as I’ve known her she goes by Rori.” Sarah gives Harry a sad smile and it reminds him of his mystery girl.

“Do you think I could meet her or something? I just want to know if it’s her.” Harry says as they reach the first peak on their hike. He looks out at the view from there, Los Angeles was green for once, but he knew it would quickly fade to brown and tan as the spring plants died off again from the summer heat.

“Pretty sure she’s off working on some destination wedding right now. She doesn’t like being bothered when she’s working,” Sarah gives Harry a look for two reasons as she says that. One, because she knows his next question would be to contact her anyway. And two, she’s saying how he is exactly the same, hates being contacted when he’s busy with work. “I can text Renee to see what’s up.”

Harry nods, “Please…” He begins to imagine Rori as his ballroom girl and mutters to himself, “A June Wedding…” getting lost in a silly little daydream.

-

“Harry Styles is asking after you,” Renee snickers over the cellphone line.

“What is this? The 1800s?” Rori sighs, as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tries to brush her hair from her face with a flick of her head, which makes for a rather silly sight as her head and shoulder move awkwardly. “People don’t ‘ask after’ anyone anymore.”

She was in Hawaii, Maui specifically, steaming a sneaky last crinkle out of the latest bride’s wedding veil.

“Well, he still is doing it. You know how he is.”

“I actually don’t,” Rori responds, easily, ignoring the memories of her two encounters with him. “What does he want?”

“Wants to meet you or something,” Renee says easily. “Thinks he met you at Sarah’s wedding, obviously impossible since I know you scampered off half way through the reception and he was falling down drunk at the half way marker as well…” she trails off.

Rori knows her sister well and expects the next thing to come out of Renee’s mouth.

“Oh my god! Did you hook up with him?!”

Expecting this, Rori responds quickly and calmly, “No, we did not hook up, I would never... I did watch him fall on his ass, though.”

“So it was you!”

“What was me?” Rori squints her eyes at her sister over the phone and finally straightens from her steaming task. She feels like she’s only half paying attention to the conversation, especially since she had no intention of meeting up with Harry. He had been so sweet and sad, and she truly wished him the best, but she knew she wasn’t the answer to his problem.

“You!” Renee all but yells into the phone, “Are his dream girl! He’s been wondering if you were even real for weeks.”

“I’m real,” Rori sighs and crosses the room she’s in to sit at the desk she was using as a work space. She flicks through the planner she was using for the Hearst wedding, set to take place tomorrow. “But I’m certainly not his dream girl...I told him that when he said he was in love with me.”

“He what?!” Renee exclaims and hears her sister sigh once again, she knows Rori is growing tired of the conversation and is ready to offer an excuse to hang up any moment now. “Nevermind that, I’m going to tell Sarah to give him your number and the date you get back to Los Angeles. Keep next weekend clear.”

Before Rori can open her strawberry pink lips to reply, Renee is squealing a goodbye and hanging up. She felt her shoulders sag with the empty line, she reclined into the nicely plush swivel chair. This is why she stayed out of love and relationships when they didn’t relate to work, they were exhausting. Too much ‘he said, she said’ going on at all times. Color palettes, seating arrangements and menus were simple, they made sense, they could be arranged and put into place. Relationships were messy, the actual event of a wedding could even be messy, but when she planned them out, for a single moment everything was orderly and simple. She was in control. She knew she couldn’t be Harry’s dream girl because she knew she couldn’t control that situation.

-

Upon arriving back in the continental United States, at the end of June, Rori ubered immediately to her apartment in Silverlake. Well, it was a converted garage behind a house of a friend of Renee’s. Like most apartments in Los Angeles, it was funky, but it was Rori’s until she decided where she wanted to move. She never wanted to buy in LA and she never wanted to upgrade from the place she had called home for the past four years.

Almost immediately after dropping her pink work tote bag and worn backpack on the floor next to her medium sized navy suitcase, her phone rang through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting with an unknown number. A New York number. Possibly a new client, she picks up quickly and shuts the window-paned door behind her. The days were long, the longest day of the year had almost arrived, yet the sun was still beginning to set in the sky and turn the light blue into a painting of oranges pinks and purples.

“Hello?”

“Is Rori Williams there?” A British voice asks, almost timidly.

“Who’s asking?”

“...Harry.”

“I was told you’d be calling or something along those lines,” she smiles to herself.

Harry sat in his room, chewing at his lip, still unsure if the voice on the other side of the phone call was the woman he had talked to previously.

“Can we go for a drink sometime? How’s tomorrow?”

“Someone is quite enthusiastic.”

“It’s just...I’m trying to figure something out.”

“So I’ve heard,” she chuckles slightly.

“So you won’t tell me whether you’re the girl I talked to at Sarah and Mitch’s wedding will you?”

“What would be the fun in that?”

“So it’s a right Cinderella, if the shoe fits situation,” he mumbles, slightly to himself, but she hears him clearly.

She laughs.

“I don’t really care for Cinderella, I’m not really one for Disney princesses at all, actually.”

His breath catches, a foggy memory of something having to do with princesses tries to break into his mind. He couldn’t remember still and he vowed time and time again that he would never get that drunk again. Too much time lost.

“Alright, Harry. I’ve just gotten home from a work trip so I’m planning on a bath, some wine, and some terribly raunchy TV to get my mind off of my life. How about you pick a time and a place for drinks and hopefully I will show up? Great! Goodnight.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just clicks the red button that hangs up the phone and goes on with her professed plans. Harry sits in stunned silence for a few moments, whatever he had gotten himself into was going to be a ride of a lifetime.

-

At a quarter past six, Harry sits anxiously at the bar top of a semi casual, semi fancy, totally cool bar he loved. It was private so he wouldn’t be bombarded with people, but it was still lively enough that it wouldn’t be dead silent if conversation lulled between him and Rori. That is, if she showed up.

His foot begins to tap, ever so persistently against the silver footrest at the bottom of the bar. His eyes shift from right to left, not wanting to order a drink before she arrives, but also not wanting to wait much longer and not order a drink. He’d waived off the bartender twice already.

She walks in, right on time, Harry had just arrived early. Her lips part into a happy smile at his anxious stance at the bar, he mirrors her expression at the sight of her.

She’s wearing a billowy white button down, the sleeves cinching perfectly at her petite wrists, cinched beneath a brown corset-like tank top. Her breasts showed their true size today in this outfit. She had the collar pulled out and the corset made it so that her cleavage was perfectly sculpted just beneath the crisp white cloth. Her pants were sleek and black, understated to draw more of a focus to her top as well as the lavender jewel inlaid pendant hanging just above the swells of her breast. Harry’s eyes dipped to that level for a moment, but quickly recovered to focus on her face. The night of the wedding had been blurry, but he was sure Rori’s face was the one of his mystery girl.

He’s shy tonight and a little more reserved than last time. He’s out of his comfortable bubble, what could anyone expect from a man so constantly watched. He fidgets with the top most button of his shirt that was buttoned and thinks about unbuttoning it to reveal a little more of his chest, but he refrains. At a friend’s wedding he feels safe, but in public he’s always watching, always aware of the possible prying eye. But like he had said drunkenly to Rori, he always maintained his charm, no matter the circumstances.

“Lavender was gorgeous on you, but this…” he gives a graceful sweep of his hand to gesture at her outfit tonight, “is extremely enchanting.”

“So you remember me in lavender? I thought you couldn’t remember me at all.” She grins as she stands directly beside him, similar to the first time they had chatted at a bartop.

Harry clears his throat at her tease, “I knew once I laid eyes on you, I would know. So now I know.”

She smirks at his reasoning and orders a vodka cranberry, both not wanting to get off her ass or look any certain way. Vodka cranberries were acceptable mature drinks, but not overly pretentious in any way. Harry tells the bartender to make it two. She looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asks as she slides into the bar seat that seems to be trying to look vintage but was likely made no less than five years ago.

Harry sits too, more easily since his legs are longer than hers. “We met in the ballroom for the first time, did we not?”

“No...we met at the bar in the reception room.” Her hand splays to feel the stone of this counter, cold unlike the wood of the previous one. “We were about this close after you’d rudely stepped ahead of me and ordered before I could...not that you noticed. I asked if you were having a rough night and you pretty much dismissed me.” She bites her lip as she tells him the story, her eyes widen as she watches the distress roll over his features at what she says.

“Oh god,” One of his hands reaches to grab her hand to emphasize his apology, “I’m so sorry, that’s so rude. I was having quite a rough night as you would eventually see.”

He stares at her face, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s glued to the sight of their hands intertwined. He was so smooth and it was making her melt, making the walls she had purposefully put up for this date weak. She had rules, especially for guys like Harry - not that there was anyone that compared to him in her life, but she had them and she knew she couldn’t just be swept off her feet by his sweet voice and gorgeous face that has the most puppy-dog look on it.

She knows she shouldn’t but the extra ice she had added to her personality melts away, her eyes going slightly moony as she watches him visibly relax again. “No worries, I enjoyed your company upon the second meeting, even if you didn’t even remember my name after it.”

“Well,” he finally catches her eye, “That’s where I have a bit of a bone to pick.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t tell me your real name...gave me some fake name I can’t even remember, but it certainly wasn’t…” His eyes shift to her pendant again and he looks back at her brassy eyes in the bar’s lighting. “If your name is Rori Williams, why is your pendant an ‘A’?” He says slowly, another foggy memory trying to break the surface of his knowledge but still failing.

She finally feels in control of the situation, calm and assured of herself, which was maybe unfair since it seemed Harry really had a hard time remembering that night and she could really fuck with him if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - with those earnest eyes looking at her.

“I told you my real name the first time we talked, Harry. It’s Aurora,” she retracts her hand from beneath his grasp and touches at the necklace, “I go by Rori both socially and professionally, but officially it’s Aurora and this had been my great-grandmother’s. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Almost as beautiful as its wearer,” he smirks, his gaze stuck on her face, attempting to convey something specific. She thinks she knows what he’s saying with his look.

“You’re quite the flirt,” she rolls her eyes playfully before specifically choosing to take a sip of her drink through the little straw the bartender had put in it. It draws Harry’s attention to her lips, and after a moment they were wet with a bit of excess vodka cranberry and Harry felt himself grow a little hot at the tips of his ears when her eyes meet with his. She had caught him staring, but he recovers easily.

“I remember telling you I never lose my charm, it’s true is it not?” Harry inquires, head leaning closer to her as he takes a sip of his own drink, making a show to lick his lips after removing them from the edge of the lowball glass.

Her laughter is loud but not overbearing, Harry thinks it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard even if she’s laughing at him. She’s true in that laugh, she’s not trying to make him fall for her with that laugh, it’s just her enjoying herself.

She responds with something sweet and the two begin the back and forth of a successful date. They both drink around three drinks as the night persists, but it’s enough for her to feel the burning pull inside the pit of her belly for Harry. His hands stay relatively to himself besides a few subtle touches at her hair and hands every so often, his feet are the ones to blame. At one point in the night, he hooks his loafer covered foot around her ankle and she is quick to lean into it, reciprocating the footsie with ease. Each brush of his leg against hers is electrifying, every nerve in her body was beginning to go crazy. She was buzzing in a way that she hadn’t when she had first encountered Harry. Tonight he was more suave, but with a tinge of timidness that made him irresistible.

Harry made sure he wouldn’t get drunk tonight, ordering only as much as Rori. He didn’t want to be the fool who couldn’t remember their time together, again. Plus, he didn’t want to forget any of their time together, he wanted to remember it all. Everything about her was amazing, the feeling he had about her, the nagging desire to meet her was for a reason, he was sure of it. If her voice was a melody, then she was the most beautiful love song he had ever heard.

At 11:30, he leans in close to Rori, his nose brushing at the hair tucked at her ear and asks her if she wants to leave. She looks at him confused, the warm feeling in her stomach falls because she thinks he wants to end the night.

“Oh,” she says dejected, she swore it was going well. “Right..That’s it.”

Harry’s brows crinkle at her sad face.

“No, love, I was saying,” he raises his brows, “Y’know.”

“Oh! Right! You just sounded so...I don’t know, serious.” She sinks in her seat, realizing her presumptions had been wrong.

“I was trying to be,” he twists his lips trying to find the word, as blush rises on his cheeks. “Seductive.”

The two of them are quickly realizing they can’t pretend with each other. Rori can’t keep up the harsh facade against love with him, he sees right through it. Harry can’t play his old tricks with her, she sees right through them.

She laughs again, “Well, it just sounded like you were bored. Sometimes your moves fall really flat.” She offers a sweet wink in consolation for his failed attempt at trying to really get her weak in the knees.

They were a lovesick mess together as they clambered off their bar seats and exit the bar that had gotten increasingly loud.

“So what’s next?” She asks on the warm summer night.

He steps closer and takes the liberty of fiddling with the strap of the corset she has on. His head is tilted down as he towers over her. “You know me Rori, I’m a hopeless romantic so I desperately want to take you out for dinner sometime and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but,” his breath fans over her face now as he shifts impossibly closer, “I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me. Just tell me what you’d prefer and it’s all yours.”

Her breathing has become a slight pant as his words wash over her. His nose brushes over the ridge of hers and she takes the moment to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him onto her. They were in the alleyway beside the bar, away from prying eyes except a few people too drunk to recognize Harry's face that is all but hidden in Rori.

“Harry,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes the decision to cross them into the point of no return. She wants this too much. She hadn’t thought this would be how her night would go, thought she would brush him off and never see him again, but god, she needed his warm body everywhere. Needed him to touch every part of her.

“Rori,” he responds.

“I want the second one first,” she whispers, feeling a little too eager, but feeling Harry press excitedly against her reassures her.

His lips press a searing kiss to her and she makes a sound of happiness at the contact. Her hands fist at the fabric of his shirt as she presses her lips feverishly back onto his. Harry’s quick to grip at the back of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her tight to him as he licks into her mouth.

“Can still taste that last vodka cran,” he notes before kissing her again.

Their tongues rub against each other, sloppily but with a tenderness hidden there as well. She snorts at his words which makes him smile and they’re kissing is becoming more silly as they try to contain their laughter. He pulls away, finally giving up trying to maintain the kiss while they both laughed.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Harry asks as he leans his forehead against hers.

Rori’s eyes flicker open and stare into his, the focus only on his eyes and the sprinkle of light freckles and beauty marks below them. She nods her head, making his move with it. They both smile, trying to contain their laughter once more.

She presses her lips against his once more for a small peck and then lowers her head into the crook of his neck. The skin warm and smooth against hers as she whispers happily to him.

“It’s your turn now, Harry,” Rori says blissfully.

She had been the answer to all his questions.

-

#to lovers fic challenge #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

[ambelle]

Some people who claim to be Korys stans love to claim Kory is a badly written character in Titans. It confuses me since they never explain what they mean. Mind u I'm no expert in writing film/tv but explain what u mean at least. Use actual reasons that mean something to plot or story and not her appearance or her backstory not being 100% accurate.

A lot of people seem pressed about the way she looks and shipping issues. Others seem irritated by the backstory not being a 1:1 adaptation. Personally she’s one of my favorite characters ever.

1) Kory is the most fashionable character on the show and it’s time for people to stfu about it. And listen I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again- most shows stall the main ship mid series. Titans did not invent that and it’s bizarre to act like they did it to be racist. It was always gonna stop cause it’s a tv show. Neither of these things have to do with who Kory is as a character anyway.

2) The screentime in s2 was crappy but her arc was one of the best. S3 was a continuation of it just with way more focus. I have issues with it mostly because I wish we could have seen way more of Tamaran. I can’t say not seeing more of it = Kory being poorly written though. JASON was the one who was poorly written in s3 actually. A few characters were and Kory wasn’t one of them. The only character we’ve seen a ton from as far as flashbacks go is Dick. So unless people are also saying Donna, Dawn, Babs etc are poorly written for lack of backstory I have to call bullshit. What do we know about Babs? What arc did Dawn have that was about her? Who tf was Donna’s mom?

3) I’m glad they left out certain things from the books like that whole slavery plot. Hard pass on seeing yet another BW be a slave on tv. I did want to see Blackfire as the big bad but I don’t see why the whole slave thing needed to be a part of the plot. I especially don’t get why people who complain about the show being racist wanted to see a bw in chains being whipped and stripped naked. Meanwhile Hawk and Dove’s entire backstory and powers were erased completely and I never hear a thing about that.

#anonymous #kory anders #she’s the best prove me wrong

[kumkaniudaku]

Understanding

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17

Recommended Listening: Understanding x Xscape, Purple Emoji (ft. J. Cole) x Ty Dolla $ign, My World x Asian

Word Count: 2,137 

If you were going to win an award that afternoon, it’d be for attire, not confidence. Your expertly crafted golf outfit was the only thing willing your feet forward once you parked your car in front of Senior’s golf course.

Black women and men dressed like modern Jet magazine ads waltzed in and out of the clubhouse while you scanned the area for your party. You’d been to your fair share of golf courses, but none as exquisite as The National. Marble accents complemented modern brass finishes and unbeatable views of the city. The desire to take photos for your father was almost too much to shake, but you managed to play it cool. Acting out of place was surely some type of faux pas for the wealthy.

Across the way, Senior sat at the bar sipping a glass of water while thumbing through a newspaper. His furrowed brow was identical to Yahya’s whenever he was knee-deep in work or a good book. The mental comparison made you smile before ushering in a tinge of sadness. For two people so undeniably similar, they were miles apart physically and mentally.

You navigated through groups of young and old alike on the way to the bar.

“You made it on time,” Senior spoke without looking up from a story on education budget cuts.

“I made it with time to spare.”

“You don’t get praise for doing what’s right.”

“Think of how much better things would be if we did.”

Senior paused his reading to take a deep breath and shake his head. You mentally berated yourself for overstepping so soon. Not even five minutes into the outing and you had already committed an avoidable infraction

Yahya I prolonged the unbearable silence as he continued to read through another article, reading each line painstakingly slow while you watched in agony.

“I apologize. That was unnecessary.”

“I’ll ask you again,” he spoke, finally looking away from the newspaper to study your face. “Let’s leave the character right here. We’re here for a purpose, so grab your clubs and follow me to the first hole. I hope your game is as good as you are at running your mouth.” Taking his retort in stride, you quickly grabbed your set of clubs and followed with no objections. “After you.”

Senior found himself immediately impressed though he wouldn’t verbalize his feelings. He watched you breeze through each hole with near expert precision, opening a series of questions at hole 5 during casual small talk.

“Where’d you say you were from again?”

“A tiny town in South Carolina that you probably wouldn’t know.”

“Try me,” he answered while taking stock of his position on the fairway.

“Anderson, South Carolina. Home of Larry Nance and the great Chadwick Boseman.”

“Can’t forget James Kennedy, Young Lady.”

You cocked your head back in surprise. “What you know about Radio? I mean outside of what the movie says?”

Senior remained quiet long enough to take a hard swing. The loud “whiff” of his driver slicing through crisp, clean air didn’t match the stroke’s output. Both of you watch the golf ball sail high into the air before making a landing well short of the intended destination. Senior shook his head at the miscalculation before turning to answer your question.

“Black folks from all over are connected, even without all that Snapgram and Facebook foolishness.”

“I could argue it’s helped, right? How else would you be able to share your granddaughter’s first steps with the whole family?”

“In photo albums. You might not remember those, but they did us just fine.”

“Yeah, but it’s instantaneous conversation and information. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Maybe instantaneous conversation is the problem. We aren’t making enough time to stop and really think about what we’re saying to each other.”

“Mm.” You let the conversation naturally taper before following Senior to his golf cart. The rolling hills provided enough scenery to keep you interested while you sorted the words in your head.

“I think we may have started off on the wrong foot.” You spoke once the cart came to a full stop. Senior trailed behind in silence, gathering a new club while watching you examine the other golfers in the area.

“You’re rather observant.”

You chuckled and plucked a club from your bag. “I’ve been told. Yahya calls me Eagle Eye when I catch something he’s already talked about ten minutes ago.”

“It’s what his Big Mama used to call his Pop-Pop for the same thing. That man was notoriously late to the punchline.” The nostalgia in Yahya I’s voice caught you off guard though he didn’t see your minor fumble. Something in his retelling appealed to your sense of compassion in a way that you considered long gone when it came to him.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. You have an issue with my presence that we should discuss. Because I can assure you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Bold,” Senior responded with a sarcastic laugh. He gestured to nothing in particular as you squared up to take a swing and nodded. “And direct. Continue.”

You took a moment to hit a line drive toward the green in the distance, using the movement as an outlet for the unexpected nerves churning your stomach. Both of you quietly watch the golf ball for its final resting place before you turned to speak.

“You are extremely hard to please, and it is literally ruining your family. Yahya does everything in his power, and, excuse my French, you don’t seem to give a fuck. Why is that?”

“What makes you think that my love isn’t what makes me push him to be the best that he can? It may not be the fluff and frills you’re used to in your home, but it’s what he needs to get him to his potential.”

“Did it help you?”

Senior mistakenly allowed a quick moment of confusion to take over his features. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You tell me. When’s the last time you enjoyed a laugh with your family or felt like you could just...be? You’re carrying a weight that is crushing the people around you, and you don’t even see it.”

“You don’t…” Senior caught his words and bottled them behind his lips. He took a deep breath as he approached his golf ball and took a half-hearted swing. Noticing his misstep, he shook his head. “I’m from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. My father, Yahya’s Pop-Pop, moved my mother and me to a shotgun shack to find work when things weren’t quite shaking out back home. He was in and out of trouble and such. Couldn’t get right, but he had a natural knack for building and design.”

A nearby group of golfers erupted into laughter, helping to break up some tension.

“So architecture’s been in the family for a while,” you asked. Yahya I curled the corner of his lips into a far-off smile.

“A long, long time. It got us out of that shack when my siblings came along and into a house with our own rooms and a backyard. But, my father was a hard man. Hard to please, you know,” he laughed, making a reference to your earlier words. “He wanted the best from me, and he made damn sure he got it. I needed that to get my head out of the clouds.”

“You also needed some reassurance.”

“Perhaps. But, what’s done is done. I look at what I’ve built with no complaints, especially when it comes to my boys. I couldn’t be more proud of the men they’ve become.”

Senior’s proud smile almost looked foreign on his face. You’d never seen more than an indifferent expression or the slight twinge of anger smoldering behind his eyes.

Leaning on your club, you kept your eyes forward to gaze out over the course.

“Yahya would love to hear that. I don’t know if you know this, but he is desperately searching for your approval. There is not enough praise from me or anyone else that could replace knowing that you’re proud of him. Yet, as much as he would like to tell you these things himself, he’s afraid that you’ll think less of him for being vulnerable.”

“I could never think less of the boy. Tough love is still love.”

“Maybe for you,” you added, shrugging. “But, what good is continuing this cycle if it’s hurting the children you claim to love and the grandchildren after them?”

Senior dropped his head in thought before looking up with an unreadable expression. “Deuce will be fine. He’s all the best parts of his mother. I...I’m confident he’ll figure out fatherhood on his own despite my shortcomings. We raised him well.”

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping -”

“That has never stopped you before, young lady.” His light-hearted chuckle invited you to follow suit.

“Fair point,” you laughed. “So, let me cut to the chase. Allowing Yahya to just ‘figure things out’ is a passive existence. Yahya says you’re constantly reminding him to take things into his own hands. Sounds like you should take your own advice. Be the parts of your father that you needed at 33.”

Instead of acknowledging your advice, Senior twirled his club in his hand on the way to the golf cart. He maintained an impenetrable poker face that even the most skilled readers couldn’t interpret. You silently hoped that at least some of your words had made it through his thick skull, but you chose to let the discussion meet a natural end.

As he started the cart, Senior turned to you and smiled. “How the hell you learn to swing like that? I know it wasn’t in Anderson.”

“Hey, we play a little golf here and there!”

“Where? Out in the woods?”

“No, out in the Bayou like you did.”

A small smirk crept across your face as Yahya I chuckled at your joke. He sounded identical to Yahya, full of mirth and beautiful melodies.

“The ole Bayou,” he repeated in a thick accent. “You ain’t seen a place more beautiful in your life.”

“Maybe Yahya and I could visit one day.”

He quickly looked over and shrugged. “Maybe. For now, you focus on defending this lead. I think I’m getting back into my rhythm.”

Senior couldn’t make a convincing comeback, but he did show glimpses of a softer, more personable disposition. He cracked jokes on occasion and asked questions that turned the conversation from a therapy session to banter between associates. Your mind traveled to the possibility of civil family dinners or vacations during the ride home. Though it seemed silly to create imaginary scenarios after one conversation, you couldn’t help the urge to see a better future.

Your happiness helped you float into your shared apartment, making Yahya smile when he caught a glimpse of your wide grin and short skirt.

“Damn, girl,” he hollered from the couch with Leche cradled in his arms. “If Tiger was out there cheeked up like that, I might’ve paid a little more attention to the golf network.”

“Oh, really?”

Your raised eyebrow made Yahya kiss his teeth once he caught on to the joke. “You know what I meant. Where you been anyway?”

“Oh, I was just out doing a little golfing...with your dad.”

“Right. That was today, huh?”

Even Yahya’s best attempt at feigning interest, his question came out in a flat drone typically used on annoying coworkers. You dropped your purse and keys against a nearby barstool on the way to his spot on the couch.

“It was today. I think we had a good time,” you answered as you slid your arms around his neck from behind, placing a gentle kiss behind his ear. “He didn’t yell at me.”

“You must’ve kissed his ass the entire time.”

“No. We talked about how great I am at golf. I mean, I kicked his ass.”

“Good on you, baby girl. Bring honor to our house.” In a surprise maneuver, Yahya pulled you over the couch and into the space beside him. “Is that all?”

Silence blanketed the room, allowing the college basketball game in the background to have center stage. You considered your options carefully, weighing the pros of a potential argument against a peaceful Saturday indoors. Yahya turned his attention back to the television as he waited for a response.

“Did you hear me, baby? He didn’t say anything rude to you, did he?”

“No!” You blurted. Taking a deep breath, you slowly slid the remote off the coffee table and pressed the power button. Yahya blinked twice at his reflection on the black television screen before turning to you for answers. Your fingers danced across his thighs to interlock with his long digits.

“I think...I think we need to have a real talk about your dad.”

----

A/N: I hope this is better late than never. Only two more chapters left! Really striving to have those to y’all by the end of the month.

Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged!

@earthformelanin @mufasathatniggatho @hidden-treasures21@justanotherloveaffair @jozigrrl @essaysbyciara @chaneajoyyy@determinednot2fall @honey-lamb-k @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @walkrightuptothesun @ghostfacekill-monger @trillistb@shaekingshitup @purplehairgawdess @xo-goldengirl@steampunkprincess147 @twistedcharismaaa @fandomfavesss@bugngiz @lifelover4u @ljstraightnochaser @l-auteuse @itsjustyazz@energy-innerg @lahuttor @sagittariusroyalty@chrisgalore @grandadchadwick​ @blowmymbackout​@supersizemeplz​ @just-peachee​ @itskikilove​ @eyeknowmywrites​ @aanairb​ @blackburnbook​ @leahnicole1219​ @lovedersha​ @cant-decide-at-this-moment​ @jasmindaughteroftheworld​

#Yahya Abdul Mateen II #Yahya Abdul-Mateen II #yahya abdul mateen ii fan fiction #yahya abdul mateen ii fic

[good-rwbyaus]

How does Yang react to the rumors her lil sis has become a professor

Perspective :: Yang // Becoming - mod lilac [ main chapter ] [ P: Weiss ]

logo-comics asked: What about an AU where everyone had somehow been under the mistaken assumption that Ruby was a professor at Beacon? For a laugh, Ozpin rolls with it whenever he's asked about it.

// this perspective piece was harder to write than I thought. also trollpin - lilac

---

“I’ll be sure to set aside an office for you, Professor,” the Headmaster spoke with mirth as he and Ruby spoke at Beacon’s courtyard, watching the students arrive for orientation. 

“Stop calling me that! I just wanted to know if students could have their own private rooms!” Ruby stomped on the ground.

“Students, no. Professors, well...” 

“Argggh!” 

Yang was treated to the sight of her normally shy, bubbly sister hopping up and down angrily, pointing impolitely at the man that’ll soon be their Headmaster. Ruby’s uncharacteristic actions shocked her brain so thoroughly that she needed a moment to reboot.   

“Wait! Yang?!” Ruby exclaimed upon spotting her.

“Hey, Ruby.” Yang replied dazedly before internally wincing at her unenthusiastic-sounding response - too shocked from her sister’s prior actions. 

Luckily though, Ruby didn’t notice anything and was in fact enthusiastic enough for the both of them. Her sister’s eyes lighting up was the only warning she got before she felt Ruby pounce onto her, the other girl wrapping her in a tight hug. 

“You made it!” Ruby happily said, “I missed you!” 

Yang couldn’t help but hug her back smiling, not quite sure what’s made the other girl so affectionate, especially in such a public showy way. 

“I missed you too, sis,” she replied warmly, patting her head. Come to think of it these two months have been the longest they’ve been apart in years. Even when she took mini-missions at Signal to prepare for Beacon, the longest interval was 48 hours. Curious at her sister’s sudden change, she asked, “Yeesh, what happened to you over the past two months?"

"Eh, you know. Landed a blow on my teacher. Got myself blown up a couple times,” Ruby started counting on her fingers, “Got dangled out of a tower. Accidentally made a mess of things when I fought in a real team for the first time. Uhhh, not exactly in that order. “ Ruby scrunched up her face, which made her laugh.

“Sounds like you’ve been having fun,” Yang replied with a grin, though she gave the girl a quick onceover to make she’s truly alright - which it looked like she was.

“Yup. At least when they’re not sticking me in a classroom or hanging out with this old troll here,” Ruby resentfully gave the Headmaster a glare.

Yang choked on her spit at her sister’s audacity.

“What did you say? I’m hard of hearing, Professor Rose,” Ozpin blandly stated, “I think I heard someone asking me that she wanted to have her professorship announced tonight.”

“Don’t you dare!” 

She listened as the two bickered back and forth. Well, more like Ozpin speaking and Ruby reacting. Hearing Ruby talk like this to an authority still frazzled her brain, and it was only Ruby saying something even more unusual that brought her out of her daze.

“And you still won’t tell me their name!” 

“Huh, whose name?” Yang asked reflexively, slightly worried about that little tidbit. Did oblivious-to-everything-but-weapons Ruby find someone she liked? At least someone will share Dad’s overbearingness when she started dating too. Ha. 

“His weapon’s name,” Ruby pointed at the cane Ozpin was holding. “His cane. It’s really something special, but you can’t tell unless you get your hands on it.” She then smugly grinned, “which I managed.”

The Headmaster quirked up an eyebrow before retorting, “you wrapped your hands and legs around it like a sloth and then refused to get off.”

“AND his weapon’s heavier than it looks but in a way I can’t really describe - like something more than physical. And there’s something like a heart ticking away, and it’s been ticking for a long time like an ancient clock,” Ruby said animatedly, her words speeding up with her excitement, “it's like watching one of those films before scroll technology or remembering a long memor-”

Well, at least some things didn’t change - like Ruby’s weapon obsession.

"You know, it’s rude to talk about other people’s weapons without their permission, Prof-” Ozpin cut her off.

“Ah, sorry, Headmaster,” Ruby bowed before lifting her head, “Wait, stop calling me that!” 

She had been so focused on her sister that she missed the Headmaster tightening the grip on his cane and the quickly-hidden shock on his face. 

======================================================

She couldn’t move, her limbs locking under the beady red gaze of the Beowulf in front of her. It lifted its claw into the air, about to deliver its death sentence. 

“Don’t hurt my sis!” A small five year-old ran in front of her, placing herself between the claw and herself.

“Ruby!” 

Somehow, someway, she found the strength to move. She stumbled onto her sister and wrapped her arms tight around her, turning away and preparing to protect the younger girl with her body. To protect her from the consequences of the mess she created. She closed her eyes, prepared for the pain. 

------

Yang groaned and slowly opened her eyes, lifting herself up to look at the other students snoozing around her. Ugh, she would have that nightmare again before Initiation started tomorrow. Or was it today? Crap.  

Sleepy eyes shut closed as she flopped back into her sleeping bag, waiting for oblivion to claim her. And for a minute or two, she managed to be still as a rock. 

“Argh. It’s useless.” She sat back up. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

The blonde quickly turned her head towards the raven-haired girl sitting by the windowsill, a book in her hands. Blake. 

“Can’t sleep obviously. What about you?”

“I’m used to staying up at night. I’m reading an interesting book after all,” Blake replied cheekily. 

Yang snorted, given that Blake had used that excuse to ignore her when she first tried to strike up a conversation. 

“The Schnee Dust Company’s heir seems to have taken a liking to your sister,” Blake said casually, “If it were me, I’d treat it as a bad thing, but I guess it’s good to have someone's backing.”

“Nah. I was listening in on that conversation. The moment that girl spoke about having an expert maintain her weapon was the moment she lost Ruby entirely,” she laughed. 

The scathing look Ruby gave the Schnee Heiress could’ve peeled paint. If there was an equivalent of a horse whisperer for weapons, it was Ruby. But as much as Ruby had disdain for those who didn’t respect their weapons, she wouldn’t show it - at least the Ruby of two months ago. She would’ve buried it deep inside and just be happy with the fact that someone was talking to her. 

Yang sighed. 

“...Ruby. She’s changed so much.”

“How so?” Blake inquired, closing her book shut. 

“Hmm. Why so curious?” Yang pouted, holding her heart, “Especially when you didn’t want to hear anything about little old me?”

“Well, the opportunity to learn more about Beacon’s youngest professor is hard to pass up,” Blake then added playfully, “don’t worry. You’re still interesting.”  

“I thought the professor thing was a joke,” Yang said in confusion, “Isn’t it?”

Was it though? She never heard Ruby outright deny it, just requested vehemently that the Headmaster not publicly announce it. Huh.

“I thought so too, but Ruby’s a bit special, isn’t she? Early entry to Beacon, taking solo missions, acting super casual with the Headmaster,” Blake replied, looking over at her, “It’s hard not to wonder.”

“I don’t think she is? I mean she would’ve told me, her sister - but...” Yang hesitated, “she’s changed a lot in the past two months. It’s like I don’t recognize my own sister anymore.” She grimaced, running a hand through her blonde bangs, “Ever felt that way about someone you’ve known for a long time and then bam what happened?”

Blake glanced outside the window and into the starry sky. 

“Yeah, I know a bit about that... But what about your sis? Might as well get it off your mind,” Blake sat crosslegged, staring expectantly and sincerely, clearly ready to listen.

With some hesitation, she glanced over at the sleeping girl several tables over with the Schnee girl sleeping a couple sleeping bags over, not quite ready to give up trying to recruit her. Good luck, brat.  

“Well my sis didn’t really have friends at Signal. She’s a loner but not really by choice. She tried so hard to fit in, but she never really clicked with anyone. No one really understood her or made the effort to.” Yang trailed off guiltily, “Maybe that’s why she could make the decision to come to Beacon so easily, because she had no one.” 

“I... I kinda expected I would have to give her a pep talk when I came here,” Yang admitted, “because Beacon required its members to form a team, even more so than Signal. I thought I would have to cheer my sis on about how she’ll find the right team but also telling her that I can’t be her partner and she needs to learn how to work with others.”

“But instead I see a confident girl who no longer seems afraid to let others know who she is. I see a fish in water. I see someone who’s found their place in life and is holding onto it with her own two hands. And also apparently making small talk and arguing with our Headmaster till she’s red in the face. Ugh, I don’t even know if she’s a professor. ” 

“Wait, so you seriously don’t know if your sister’s a professor?”

“Is that the only thing you took out of this?” Yang dropped her jaw, appalled, “I just poured my heart out to you, Blake! You have to take responsibility.”

The ebony-haired girl flushed wonderfully at her choice of words before grumpily rebutting, “W-who asked you to do that?”

A moment of silence passed between them, neither of them knowing what to say. 

It was Blake who broke the silence. “I think...you’re just having complicated feelings on seeing your younger sister grow up. I mean you seem like a good older sister, so you’ve probably protected Ruby all this time. And now that she no longer needs your protection, you probably feel a bit lost but also a bit of pride too.”

“Huh,” Yang blinked several times pondering what Blake said for a couple seconds, and then she smiled, a bittersweet feeling in her heart, “I think you’re right. I’m happy she’s grown up, but I also kinda miss the girl who’d cry when her weapon would go missing. Haha.” 

She then gazed playfully at Blake, “Oh Blake, why are you so wise?”

“Eh, I read it in a fortune cookie once,” Blake deadpanned without missing a beat.

“Ugh, and somehow my reverence for you has been lost,” Yang sighed before smiling, “But seriously, thanks for listening. Do you... Well... I heard you mentioned someone that you feel the same way about?”

Blake paused before shaking her head. 

“Ah, sorry. It’s a long story, and it’s late, and...” Blake said before adding in a dramatic baritone, “you haven’t progressed enough on the Blake Belladonna social link to know about that yet.” She stuck her tongue out before turning over to the side to go to bed.

“Oh come on! Pour your heart out to me now!” Yang said dramatically but upon seeing no response from the other girl, she snorted, “Fine. I’ll get to bed, and I’ll totally unlock more of the Blake storyline in the future. Does it end in romance at least?”

“Ugh. I’m not dignifying that with an answer. Good night, Yang.”

Yang laughed. 

-------

“And now even my sister thinks I’m a professor!” Ruby wailed at Headmaster Ozpin, pointing a finger back at her. Yang could only give the Headmaster an apologetic grin - probably should’ve asked Ruby in a more subtle way - as Ruby ranted on, “And no one else believes me when I deny it. That’s your fault!” Ruby groused.  

“Don’t worry, Miss Rose. I’ll be sure to do something about the rumors this evening,” the Headmaster spoke warmly, “You can walk back to your seat and see how I resolve this.”

As soon as Ruby sat down, Ozpin stood up tapping his glass with the back of his fork. All the students fell into silence upon noticing who was making the commotion, and all the attention quickly fell on him.

“Ah-hem. I have an announcement to make,” Ozpin spoke calmly, “I would just like to say that Ruby Rose is not a professor at Beacon. The fact she is on a first name basis with all your professors or participated in a mysterious extracurricular activity two months prior to her entry to Beacon is completely irrelevant,” Ozpin continued on before pausing briefly, a spark of amusement in his eyes, “And I suppose the fact she graduated from Signal two years early is also not that important. That and her impeccable display with her team during Initiation. Alright, that is all. ”

The man glanced over at Ruby, his gaze clearly asking ‘are you happy?’ to the girl.

Ruby only beamed happily in satisfaction.  

Oh my god. 

Ruby was right. 

Ozpin is a troll. 

And she could only facepalm at Ruby’s complete obliviousness to the fact that Ozpin’s wishy-washy way of explaining things probably made things a lot worse. 

Well, at least no one is going to call Ruby Professor to her face now. 

Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.  

#professor ozpin #rwby au #yang xiao long #rwby fic #rwby #ruby rose #ozpin #blake belladonna #becoming au #mod lilac #willow6010

[johnnys-green-pen]

Random E! Thoughts: S3E18 - How Green Was My Thumb?

Fun fact: The Behind The Scenes book actually lists the title as just Green Thumb, and “How Green Was My Thumb?” as the working title. I’m following Wikipedia here because that’s what I’ve always gone by, but the more you know, I guess. 

Also, said book is usually a very good source of info, a lot of which was collected from people involved and thus very hard to come by otherwise, but they do list plant lady as “an old widow”, which... no, she’s neither of those things.

Leave it to E! to turn a guy choking on his dentures into one of the more suspenseful scenes on the show. 

Also, Hank Stanley helping out with the paramedic-ing is always fun to see. That guy has a habit of showing up wherever he’s needed and doing whatever’s necessary, and I love that.

Johnny should know by now that when Dix brings up a woman in his proximity, especially in that wink-wink-nudge-nudge kinda way she does in this episode, he really Should check her out.

Johnny being confused by flowers that don’t smell when Roy picks up the lil’ potted plant for the Plant Lady. 

Johnny utterly failing to chat up that nurse, and her having none of it. Also, “Roy My Partner DeSoto”. Nice middle name, buddy x’D

I love how Roy actually remembered most of the plants’ names at the Plant Lady’s place, and seems charmed by the idea of it, if anything. That’s super sweet.

Also, Johnny claiming the whole thing is utterly ridiculous and Roy’s on his own, but A) it takes him about ten seconds to start talking to the plants and B) he’s the one who realizes that one of them isn’t doing well, and this is also the specific plant he notices first. Takes some skill to find the one sickly plant in that jungle. 

Actually, I just realized that Johnny seems to shift from vague interest to “nope! None of my business!” once Roy implies taking some sort of responsibility for the well-being of that one sick plant. Not wanting to get invested in case it dies, eh?

Which is to say, I think somebody should get Johnny a potted plant; he’d probably do really well with it. (Question of the day: Which indoor-friendly plant would suit Johnny best?)

Also, how the hell are they watering a patient’s plants on duty? What exactly are they logging that as? Did Cap go “sure, you can take the squad to drive to some lady’s house and water her homegrown jungle”? I really want to know how THAT conversation went.

Also, the lads surrounded by a tangle of plants and flowers is surprisingly pretty. Johnny looks good among dark greens and flowery reds.  (#JustArtistThings)

Cap’s whole “you’re an expert at watering”-crack will never not get a chuckle from me.

Props to whoever made the music choice for the winery fire scene; that tense little bit of BGM adds about a dozen levels of suspense.

I’m usually the last person who notices stuff like that and I actually think I remarked upon that before, which makes me noticing it again a veritable miracle, but Johnny looks pretty great in shiny, clingy pants. Man’s got legs...

Somebody explain to me how Johnny apparently found a new pair of trousers and a new jacket but no shirt, and also why exactly his jacket has to be half-open. I mean, I know the reason is “because fanservice”, but in-universe it’s a lot more funny than it has any right to be. 

Johnny sexily leaning against elevator walls, lol

Roy very earnestly telling the plant lady about the way he’s been treating the sick plant. If I hadn’t liked the guy before, now I definitely would.

If Johnny calls one more woman “incredible”, I will hit him with a thesaurus. Come on, man, apply some creativity here.

Johnny giggling at Chet’s attempt at humor.

The Grenade Rescue is tense as hell.

Going by that little “whew”, it seems that Johnny agrees.

That little moment after the bomb squad guy asks for one of them to go with him and Roy volunteers to stay with the victim, possibly-exploding grenade and all, and Johnny just gives him that little "well if you’re sure”-kinda look.

Brackett’s near-complete calm in the face of potential sudden death. Mike’s, too, for that matter. 

Also, that whole rescue had a baffling amount of gore by usual E! standards.

#e!analysis #emergency! #s3e18

[avwrites4ever]

Fantasy Setting Idea - Classic Japan (Heian Period)

It’s a New Year! And what better way to start it off than gush about something I love! I hope you will enjoy it too, and get excited, because I’m bursting with ideas!

I’ve even gushed about this to people at my work, the poor things. That’s how excited I am.

I just love discovering new writing ideas and hoping someone will do something wonderful with them. It doesn’t have to be me. Just someone.

So.

The Heian Period.

Also known as the Golden Age of Japan.

I think it’d make a fascinating base for a fantasy setting. So would ancient Korea, if the movie Ramage taught me anything.

*NOTE: This isn’t a history lesson. I’m just examining broad strokes of certain elements of culture & setting which I think would lend themselves to a fascinating fantasy story.

(Although there is a History of Japan in 5 minutes video at the end.)

Fun Fact:

The Tale of Genji, written during this time period, is probably

the world’s 1st novel.

The 1st novel. Ever.

Written by a court lady in Heian Japan, no less. She is known as Murasaki Shikibu, but that’s a nickname (her real name is unknown.)

Chiefly, I’ll quote from Royall Tyler’s intro to his translation of The Tale of Genji.

And if I can find my copy of The Pillow Book, written by Sei Shonagon, I’ll include that too. (Please don’t confuse with the film of the same name, which is not the same AT ALL.)

Here’s a summary of The Pillow Book:

http://cup.columbia.edu/book/the-pillow-book-of-sei-shnagon/9780231073370

*Not sure if this is the best translation, I just like the summary.

*Note: Translations are tricky, & often if you don’t like a translated text, it might be because the translation is bad, and not actually the fault of the original work! Please keep that in mind while reading.

The Tale of Genji & The Pillow Book are both primary sources, by the way, meaning they were written by people who were actually living in the Heian Period!

(And both ladies were rivals of each other, which I find hilarious, considering I like both of their works.)

They’re not dry & boring either. Far from it. (I mean obviously, or I wouldn’t recommend them.)

I recommend The Pillow Book first. If you have a good translation, while reading, you’ll learn about how life was during the time, which will make reading The Tale of Genji easier since, being a novel, Genji assumes you live in the Heian Period and so know all about it (the inside jokes, the word play, the burns, everything.)

I also find Sei Shonagon a fascinating person. Very funny & clever. She journals like I do, only less randomly. She’s very interested in the world around her & all its funny, heartwarming, or baffling moments.

If not for the barriers of time & language which, funny enough, translation has more or less broken, I feel as we’d have some great conversations.

I love how real people in history are both very relatable & very different from us.

I mention these 2 because it was chiefly while reading the intro to Royall’s translation of Genji that I got the idea for this post. Though I was already fascinated by Heian Japan while reading The Pillow Book.

Though, if anyone is interested, I first became intrigued by Japan’s history while reading Rurouni Kenshin. Considering it’s a manga, consisting of pictures & text, you might start there.

(Though Rurouni Kenshin is set shortly after the Meji Restoration, which I believe is something like the start of Japan’s modern period, since samurai are in decline. But don’t quote me, I could be wrong.)

Anyway.

Also, Tumblr apparently doesn’t know what the Heian Period is, so few pictures here will be actually of the Heian Period, and doubtful if they’re accurate.

Actually, I’m using this as an excuse to put in pictures of Toshiro Mifune & old Japanese black & white films & pretty landscapes & cats & anime, because I can.

So! What about Heian Japan so intrigues my writerly brain?

Lots of things, naturally,

Certainly a fantasy world based around the Heian Period will be different from your typical western Medieval-esque fantasy settings which are so popular.

Yes, I’m brilliant, no one would ever have guessed that.

(Though speaking of Medieval-esque fantasy research has taught me those, such as Game of Thrones, to give a popular example, are actually closer to reflecting the Early Modern Period.)

See this link for better argument by someone more researched than me:

https://acoup.blog/2019/05/28/new-acquisitions-not-how-it-was-game-of-thrones-and-the-middle-ages-part-i/

https://acoup.blog/2020/12/04/collections-that-dothraki-horde-part-i-barbarian-couture/

I mean yes, I was surprised too that a person who claims to do their research apparently hasn’t, but here we are.

Speaking of which, take everything I say with a grain of salt, because I know nothing. Nothing!

By which I mean, I am not an expert about the Heian Period, or even Japanese history. For example, a lot of what I’m talking about will involve the perspective of court nobles & rich people, since those were both the characters in the primary sources & were what the authors were themselves.

I’d love to read a story where the main characters & people involved are peasants in the Heian Period. (And who stay peasants, & aren’t secretly royal or noble.)

I’m only suggesting this as a way to expand your mind beyond fantasy settings which have been done before.

I hope too that I’m not advocating cultural appropriation either (an easy trap to fall into.) If you think I am, let me know!

Now that’s all out of the way, here’s some specifics about what I love about the Heian Period:

It’s a Hidden & Secret World Insubstantial as a Dream, Structured by Social Manners & Rank

What struck me right away while reading The Pillow Book & The Tale of Genji is how closed their worlds are. Noble women especially lived in a world of curtains, panels, blinds, and  paper, silk, or bamboo screens, and walled gardens. People speak to each other not only through these divides, but also through messengers / servants.

What connects all these things are how fragile they are.

As Royall writes in his introduction to The Tale of Genji, even in courtship, (pg. xix):

“He cannot see her, and he may have no idea what she looks like. He will not normally see her even if she speaks to him in her own voice, since she will still be in another room, behind a blind and a curtain, and the curtain will remain even if she allows him into the room where she is.”

Seeing another person is very intimate. This makes it very easy to build up mystery and intrigue of a person before you actually meet them. Catching a glimpse of them or a snatch of their voice, or the hem of a sleeve from under a screen can be electrifying. Especially of a gentleman to a lady, or vice versa, because of all those blinds and screens and so forth. Royall mentions this in the introduction to his translation of The Tale of Genji. 

“If he then takes it upon himself to brush her curtain aside and go straight to her, he will by that gesture alone have claimed something close to the final intimacy.” (Introduction, pg. xix.)

What prevents him, of course, is a combination of good manners & reputation. Royall writes, “Good manners maintained a proper distance, which amounted to unholding the accepted social order.” Loss of reputation could mean loss of friends and entertainment and wealth, even exile. Having other people to talk to or play games or music with was essential.

Introducing ghosts, shape-shifters, and uncertain magic to such a setting is only to be expected. (There is a ghost in The Tale of Genji.) 

Also note that then & now personal names were seldom used, & especially not in public unless by someone intimate with you (such as a family member or old friend) or the person was extremely rude. Instead, people were referred to by their rank and title or last name, or even the place where they came from. Some were even referred to by a number, for example, First Princess (Onna Ichi no Miya.)

Notes or letters were vital within such a formal social structure. Even more vital than text messages are today. For in notes, especially poetry, someone could speak from the heart. So much that even the type of paper used was important. For example, most romantic notes were written on thin, colored paper, often kept in the front fold of a robe. They could also be scented and contain a branch from a tree or flowers.

And of course, clever word play and innuendos were all the rage. People were also expected to memorize poetry, and judged if their poetry or writing wasn’t up to standard.

Anyone who loves words would excel here. Think of all the possibilities! Secret lover’s notes, inside jokes between friends, sick burns between enemies or rivals. Plots to overthrow the Emperor could happen in plain sight. Throw some curses and magic to the mix and see what happens. Having some sort of mystery would also work well.

Hope you enjoyed this & makes you excited about creating a unique, rich, fascinating fantasy world.

Or really any part of Japan’s history, which roughly goes like this:

Obviously, if any of this intrigues you, & you want to use Classic Japan as a setting, you’ll need to do research. And I mean it. Or I will hunt down some rusty spoons.

I’m serious though. The reason why I’m writing this post is, hopefully, other people can also learn about Heian Japan, or more of Japan’s rich, beautiful, bloody history. Share the wonder with others, so the wonder won’t be lost or forgotten.

And in doing so, discover the wonder at being able to laugh at jokes made by someone who doesn’t even speak the same language as you, doesn’t even live in the same time or place . . .

It’s truly amazing. People are more alike than we know. And amazingly different. Reading manga & learning about Japan (and other countries) has been & is such a glorious experience. I understand myself & other people better.

It’s opened up the world.

#story ideas #the tale of genji #japan #fantasy #think about it #writing

[selfhelpskillss]

Make Him Worship You Review: Should You Read It Through?

While many people turn to others for relationship advice, Self Help Skills would like to read books or watch programs about love and life, then get some lessons for myself. And recently, I have just digested an exciting online program named Make Him Worship You by Michael Fiore. It is beneficial, so I can end up reading this Make Him Worship You review.

Keep reading if you also want your lover to love and respect you more.

About Make Him Worship You Program

Make Him Worship You Michael Fiore

Written by a man – to be exact, an expert in the field of relationship and sexual psychology, the Make Him Worship You program with six modules will tell you, from a male perspective, how to seduce a man and make him crazy for you.

Believe me; the program will entirely change the way you take steps forward in your relationship because you now get a chance to see exactly what might happen in his little mind. Then, he will never see any women more attractive than you.

Some Interesting Information about Michael Fiore

Here is Michael Fiore

Micheal Fiore, as I mentioned above, is an expert in great modern relationships. He describes himself as blunt and funny – and most noticeably honest in giving you advice.

He is the author of various popular books and programs such as “6 Simple Tricks To CRACK THE MAN CODE And Get Any Guy To Open His Heart,” “Make Him Beg To Be Your Boyfriend,” or what we will discuss further here.

Some might even have seen him on “The Rachael Ray” show where he introduced his famous “Text The Romance Back Program” and gave many useful couples techniques.

For now, he is living in Seattle and working hard on the useful program “Make Him Worship You” and his publishing platform “Digital Romance.”

You can have a look then.

The Kind of Make Him Worship You

What is included in the program?

Rather than being a book, I must confirm that “Make Him Worship You” is a program, to be exact – a guide, with six modules in the forms of worksheets, materials, and also videos.

Even more, there are some additional bonuses in the packages that are also very helpful to check out, including:

​When To Sleep with a Man: Exactly for those who wonder what the right time to sleep with the man after the first date is?

Unstoppable Confidence: One of the essential qualities of any dating is confidence, which creates the first impression. Then, in this bonus material, you can hear Michael and the fellow expert Griswald’s candid discussion.

The Good Girl’s Guide to Texting Dirty: The author published one of the best-sellers on Amazon, Text The Romance Back Program. Thus, you can definitely learn some useful texting techniques to blow the mind of any guys.

Sometimes, you will also have an extra Man-Melting Backrub or Make Him Beg to be Your Boyfriend. It is based on the promotion offered by the author.

Anyway, you will never get bored with the program. Sometimes, you can lie on the bed and check online tutorials when you wait for your partner, or you can even put on the earphones and hear Michael Fiore share about his experience and useful relationship techniques.

The Content of The Program

Now, get insight into the main content of the Make Him Worship You program. It is divided into six modules; each focuses on different aspects of your male lover’s romantic psychology. Hence, it is supposed to help you understand him better.

No need to check all the modules in a linear. Rather than that, you can start with any of the following topics you might be interested in.

Introduction and the lies you’ve been told about men

The book starts with correcting the misconceptions and misunderstanding of you about men. Instead, Michael Fiore reveals the opinions about romantic relationships and sexual attractions from the view of men.

In the end, it is more important to accept yourself and some negative expectations so that you can become more self-confident in a relationship.

What men mean by I Love You

To make him worship you, you should never be misled by him. Then, you must know whether your partner really means it when he says, “I love you.” In this part, you can understand how a man delivers a deep feeling.

For example, the man often finds himself hard and confused about his real emotion, so communication is usually tough at the beginning.

The secret emotional life of men

Again, I have to confirm that men have a hard time honestly expressing their feelings as someone said this “Men are an ocean of feeling, but we hardly see no drop out of them.”

Thus, it would be great to see the relationships in the men’s pressures, from his life, work, and even your relationship. Take a masculine man, for instance. Showing any vulnerability and softness is against impressions and characteristics that others often put on him. All of those negative experiences can make them afraid of opening.

Accepting Yourself

The next module is about you.

This is tightly knit with the confidence that I mentioned earlier. Then, you must realize and accept both the good and bad sides of yours regarding life, in general, and romantic relationships, in particular.

After that, it is recommended to have forgiveness on your soul so that you will feel the life much less stressful, and you can also quickly move on to new relationships.

More importantly, you decide whether he is worth it or turns out to be an jerk. Real-life examples are available for your reference. Have your red flags and be ready to kick him out of your life forever if he is not well-worth your time, let alone your love.

Feeding his masculinity

While most women desire to be loved and treasured, most men are ready to give them so. They like to be a provider and also a protector when you need it. Hence, always tap into such desires and make your man more confident about himself.

Excitingly enough, Michael Fiore emphasizes the high-testosterone and some proven techniques that can also help to win over your man. Say, it would help if you increased the intimate touching and hypnotic kissing to build the partner up and drive him to do as you desire.

Communication and getting what you want

Never skip the last module, which includes a series of advisable and actionable communicating strategies to persuade him to follow your desire, even in the most difficult or misunderstanding situations.

We all know that miscommunications or toxic questions can end up a broken couple.

How Much Is The Program?

It is around $37 the latest time I check the official website of the digital “Make Him Worship You.” It is not expensive at all, considering how much time and effort the author put into all resources of the program. Truth be told, the price is just as much as the cost of a chocolate bar, and you can get a secret sauce to your relationship.

In case that you just are not satisfied with the techniques suggested by Michael Fiore, you can request a money-back within 60 days.

No worries.

What I Like and Less Like about “Make Him Worship You”

Positive as the Make Him Worship You program review is, I still have some comments to make the guide more realistic and actionable.

Pros:

Written by a man, especially – an expert in relationships

Easy to follow content with specific examples

Diversified on the presentation methods to avoid boredness

Very affordable to get useful advice from experts

Money-back guarantee, so no worries if it does not work

Five bonuses included in the package to understand him better

Cons:

Cheesy and overly-sober language

Possible inward reflection (it’s hard to admit our mistakes!)

Only the digital version available

Michael Fiore Make Him Worship You Reviews

Want to hear feedback on He Will Worship You reviews from other consumers?

Then, I would like to summary some here.

From Jude Paler

She highly praises the program for its step-by-step guide that is immediately applied to almost any case. Far from being theoretical or philosophical, the advice of Michael Fiore is practical!

From Lakeport Chamber

“Make Him Worship You” program, in the Lakeport Chamber’s opinion, is an online relationship. It is helpful as the title. All techniques are easy to implement, as well.

Last Verdict – My Overall Opinion

The Make Him Worship You review above is shown. Those who claim to Make Him Worship You scam obviously have never read it through yet. In fact, the program has a beneficial content that is broken down in easy-to-follow modules. However, the reader should not be stressed too much about self-reflection and get depressed. Instead, take good care of yourself, win over the male partner, and make him worship you to the end.

Credit by: https://selfhelpskills.net/make-him-worship-you-review/

#selfhelpskills selfhelpmarriage selfhelpbook selfhelpbooks selfhelpdating

[advena87]

Lambert and Keira Metz after the events of Wild Hunt run a joint business in Lan Exeter. Unexpectedly, a  stranger witcher appears on their doorstep with an unusual task.

So the translation of the first chapter of my fanfic where it turns out that Aiden is alive after all.

My English is shitty, so please forgive me for mistakes. I will be grateful for feedback, both in terms of language and story. I don't know if I will translate it further, it's really difficult and exhausting for me, at the top you have a link to the Polish version.

I dedicate this translation to @gridelincarver @marbienl13 @all-my-queens If it wasn't for you, this text wouldn’t have been written, so thank you very much for motivation!

______________________________________________________

Granda

granda (polish) - rumpus, ruction, brawl, bunch but also fraud, hoax, humbug

Chapter 1

Lan Exeter was a beautiful port city, full of vivid but narrow houses and canals instead of streets. The winter capital of Kovir and Poviss, like the whole country, was favorable to sorceress and sorcerers who escaped from war-torn Redania from Radowid's witch hunters. Magicians from the Northern Kingdoms found here a safe haven, job and had great freedom in conducting their research and experiments.

Despite these many advantages Keira Metz didn’t like to live here. It was difficult for her to explain it rationally, she really couldn’t complain about anything, especially after what she went through hiding in Velen. But Lan Exeter got on her nerves. She couldn't focus here and felt something hanging in the air.

Lambert on the other hand was very pleased with the new location. Despite the fact that it was Triss Merigold, who arranged for them enter to Kovir, it was the witcher who indicated the winter capital as the right place to start their small project. He had acquaintances here, in the past he has made several large contracts for important officials. Thanks to these acquaintances, they didn’t encounter any major problems to rent a small, but well-kept tenement house not far from the city's main square. At the start they paid for it from what Lambert saved from contracts, Keira's savings went to the apparatus for the laboratory she arranged in the attic of the building. Now the sorceress has already run her own business, from which she had considerable profits and they divided expenses in half.

She couldn't complain here either. Despite his difficult character, Lambert was a resourceful and responsible man when it came to finances. He systematically searched for contracts and efficiently bargained with clients. He wasn't wasteful and basically the only thing he spent money on was weapon. As for the alchemical ingredients and components, Keira made sure he didn't run out of anything. Always taking orders for her business, she took into account the witcher's need for potions. Before they looked back, they worked out a routine for functioning and cooperation on both: private and professional grounds. And that was another thing that had been bothering her for some time.

Her relationship with Lambert was turbulent at times, but it was exemplary. The Witcher didn’t cause problems, except for the fact that he sometimes returned half-dead from work. And that was basically the only thing they could argue about. Both of them had an explosive temperament, arguments could sometimes alarm their neighbors. However, it always found its finale in bed, which didn’t diminish the amount of decibels they generated and Keira finally cast a silencing spell on their building, because tenants from behind the wall intended to report noise to the owner of the house.

Either way, her life under one roof with the witcher slowly and disturbingly began to resemble a marriage. And just thinking about it, Keira shivers. That wasn’t her ambition. She never dreamed of hiding in a charming house at the end of the world with the One. Keira wanted power and fame, constantly thinking back to the time she sat on the royal council of Temeria, she still remembered the conventions of sorcerers and the feast of the elite, where her word was sacred. That Keira Metz wore the most fashionable and provocative outfits, every night she had a different lover, drank the most expensive and exquisite wines on the Continent, and pulling the strings on the political scene of the country was her element. She had a reputation, people knew her name and felt respect for it. She wanted to create history and have fun, she wanted to taste life. Meanwhile, she was sitting in the politically neutral and boring Kovir, where no one knew who she was, she was selling her knowledge to the populace and slept with witcher.

Well, it was always a few steps better than forgotten by gods Velen, a bunch of illiterate peasants paying her with eggs and shareing bed with bugs. Not to mention the threat of burning at the stake still hanging over her then. So she knew it could always be worse. And she really couldn't say she was unhappy here, just ... it wasn't the kind of happiness she wanted. And Lambert himself was a completely unsolvable matter for her. They weren’t officially together, none of them came up with the funny idea of having a serious relationship. Lambert was supposed to help her with her research, and sex was just a nice addition for both of them. They didn’t claim any rights to each other, they didn’t swear allegiance and devotion, they just went with the flow and in some unexplained way they found themselves in this place. In a shared apartment, with shared business and shared life. Keira didn't remember when she had spent so many nights in her own bed with the same man by her side. She was beginning to fear that it had never really happened before.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a bell. In the tenement they rented, ground floor was adapted for Keira's magical business. At the front door, which was constantly open for the public, they hung a bell that signaled the arrival of a potential customer. The sorceress rose from behind the table, closed the book, which she reviewed to make a mixture ordered by one of the townsmen, and headed for the curtain separating the back room from the main part of the store.

She saw the figure next to the bookcase and thought it was Lambert for a short split second. She was fooled by two swords on his back - such characteristic accessories for her witcher. But it wasn't Lambert. The man was slightly taller, but thinner, he was standing back to her, and he had a hood on his head, but the sorceress knew her witcher too well to confuse him with someone else, she had no doubt. However, newcomer wasn’t interested in books, but in other objects based on a bookcase. Kiera shuddered a little, of all the things that were in this room, he had to choose that one.

"How can I help you?” She finally said, hoping that would surprise him and divert his attention from the things he was watching, but nothing like that happened.

The man, unmoved by her question, still with his back to her, reached into one of the hilt of two swords leaning against the bookcase. He grabbed it and pulled the blade out of the scabbard.

"It's not for sale," she said firmly, and finally got a reaction.

The stranger turned slowly toward Keira, looked her up and down, and a pair of amber cat eyes flashed from under his hood.

"Witcher,” she noted with surprise.

The man weighed the sword in his hand, ran his fingers over the carved runes. Keira didn't miss the way he was holding it. To be sure, she looked at his own swords protruding from his left arm. He was left-handed.

Lambert once told her that a left-handed swordsman is a real pain in the ass. A left-handed witcher, on the other hand, is a death sentence. Admittedly, it doesn't matter with monsters, but warriors trained in swordsmanship don't have much chance against someone like that. Regardless of school, master or experience, almost every swordsman has a dominant right hand. Even if he was born left-handed, when he enters the training he is immediately switched to the right one. Those who decide to train on the left have more difficult learning, but the advantage they gain thanks to it is huge. Left-hander is accustomed to right-handed opponents, they are his daily bread, but people relying on their right have a very difficult task fighting a mirror reflection. As a result, it was also established that a left-handed swordsman was a cheater without honor, so there were only a few schools and masters favorable to teaching left-handers on their dominant hand. Unless they want to train the assassin.

“The devil does not sleep,“ witcher read the inscription from the blade, still carefully examining the sword. ”Silver blade, witcher gear. Where did you get it from?”

"It's not for sale," she repeated and walked over to him, emphatically raising her hand, expecting that he would give her the weapon. “It belongs to my business  partner, also a witcher”.

"I see...” He smiled at her, which revealed dimples in his cheeks, but it was hard to call that smile cordial. He obediently gave her the sword and finally pulled off the hood.

Keira blinked in surprise. She may not have been an expert, but apart from Lambert, she was also dealing with his brothers from the Wolf School and that assassin of Foltest. The witchers were interesting in their own way, but it was hard to enter them into the standard canon of beauty. And the one in front of her was a little more unusual than the norm she knew.

First of all, he was redhead. She lived among the villagers long enough to know that redhead was for them a synonym of a soulless freak. So the red-headed and left-handed witcher would probably be cursed three times for them. Of course, these were only nonsense superstitions of the illiterate pleb, but someone with such qualities had to have extremely hard on the path. His appearance alone was enough for people not to trust him.

Secondly, he looked young. The Witchers in general grew old very slowly, but she has never met monster slayer who looks as young as this one. It wasn’t about the number of wrinkles, but about the youthful charm of teenage daredevil, and when he smiled, two deep dimples appeared on his cheeks. However, his cold gaze revealed that he was long after his teenage years. These eyes could see enough to look distrustful and insensitive now. Combined with this beautiful but predatory smile, he looked like a hungry shark.

Thirdly, he had no scars on his face except for one, thin as a thread that cut his lips vertically to the right and disappeared just above his chin. It was visible mainly because the witcher had a stubble on his jaw, if it weren't for it, it wouldn’t have been visible at first glance. Keira hasn’t yet met the witcher without the obvious scars that disfigure face. The only noticeable defect was the damaged right ear. The helix was clearly jagged, and although the flaw was completely healed, it seemed to be a fairly recent matter.

"Your partner left without swords?” witcher asked with a sneer, and Keira felt uncomfortable.

The tenement house was storeys, there could have been two dozen partners upstairs, but the newcomer knew she was here alone. The sorceress wasn’t particularly fearful and usually she felt more than at ease with men, but he gave her goosebumps. And not the good one.

In general, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to her that he exactly knew who was and who wasn’t around. She lived with Lambert long enough to learn that he hears from the ground floor a falling pin upstairs, but for some reason she attributed this skill only to him. Meanwhile, superhuman senses were a feature of all witchers.

"These are souvenirs," she explained and invited him to the table where she was hosting clients. Before she joined him she put the sword back into its sheath and laid it on the table. "He doesn't use them, so I wanted to hang them on the wall for decoration, but he didn't agree. And then I forgot to put them back in their place.”

"Why didn't he agree?” He asked in a tone of conversation about the weather and sat down, taking off his fingerless leather gloves.

"Like I said, these are souvenirs," she repeated, shrugging. “These have sentimental value and, as he said: ‘these aren’t ceremonial sabers to hang on the wall’."

"So neither for show nor for use," he said, looking at the weapon in front of him for a moment, then looked up at Keira, clearly stopping his gaze on her décolletage. A short grimace ran over his face, and Keira could have sworn, it was amusement. But it disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and after a moment the witcher was looking straight in her eyes, his face expressing nothing. “So much good steel is wasted. I will gladly buy them, I can offer a good price for them”.

Keira frowned. She had already told him twice that swords weren’t for sale. However, that wasn't what worried her. Not even that he was looking at her decolletage. She noted it with relief, because it was something she could deal with and finally he showed some human impulses, even if this view amused him for some reason. What she didn't like here was how quickly he decided to make a purchase. He didn't even look at the second sword!

She witnessed how Lambert bought new blades. The whole process lasted almost a month. A month of watching and comparing weapons at various craftsmen, a month of whining and fussing, and finally commissioned them to be forged. But he was still dealing with materials, because it was necessary to import a special steel alloy. It cost her witcher a lot of nerves and even more money, but he told her then that his life depends on these blades. They must be an extension of his hand, no compromises. 

And this witcher wants to buy swords that he didn't even look at properly.

Maybe he collected them, or maybe he was just stupid, it didn't matter, Keira wasn't going to sell them, even if he had a mountain of gold. These swords were important to Lambert.

"Not for sale," she repeated for the third time, this time in the tone she extinguished the royal advisers in the council, when they began to be a pain in the ass. “Please, better tell me what brings you to me. And to Lan Exeter if I can ask. The witcher in the city is quite an unusual thing.”

"From what I have found out, you live with a witcher,” he raised one eyebrow. “You are one of the last people who should be surprised.”

“That's why it's unusual. Two witchers in the capital are a crowd.“

“I must admit that this is not a coincidence. I’m looking for a partner to fulfill a big and difficult contract. A large and strong imperial manticore come along from the mountains to nearby villages. Kidnap people, slaughter cattle. Three villages funded reward.”

“So you didn't come to talk to me, but to my parner," she said, ready to end the discussion here. She couldn't take contracts on behalf of Lambert.

And it sounded really bad. Maybe the money could be good, but the manticores were extremely dangerous. If the monster flew here from the mountains, then the trip to track it down will be long and exhausting. She didn't like it at all.

“It's not just about the manticore, I also have a request to you. It is very fortunate that I find a sorceress and witcher in one place, although this is an unusual thing.“

“Maybe here in Kovir. Where I come from bards even sing ballads about the union of the witcher and sorceress. A few of my colleagues value such cooperation very much, so I decided to take their advice and enter into ... a partnership with the witcher.“

“I know master Dandelion’s ballads,” he smiled mischievously, and she had to admit that he looked attractive with that grimace on his face, even if it lifted her neck hair. For some reason, his smiles were like a bad omen for her. “And please forgive me boldness, but is your deal just business, or do you also aspire to ballad heroes?”

Keira raised an eyebrow and finally clarified what she didn’t like in this witcher. His cat's eyes were vigilant, just this how he surveyed the room and looked at her... without doubt it was a predator's gaze. A predator who just smelled a prey and was getting ready to jump. The sorceress repaid the same and finally began to analyze more closely what she saw. Neither the weapon nor the armor he wore had any distinctive school features. And most importantly and most disturbing in this all - this witcher didn’t have a medallion around his neck. And a witcher without a medallion can't use signs.

What the hell? She was beginning to conclude that everything was wrong with this stranger. And no wonder that he was looking for a partner to kill the manticore. Lonely expedition for such quarry, when you can’t use signs, is suicide.

"Interesting question," she said finally after a little too long pause. The witcher narrowed his eyes as if he sensed she was uncomfortable. “Are you asking out of professional curiosity?”

"Entirely private,” and that beautiful smile again, but this time it clearly contained a threat. Like an animal that bares its fangs before it attacks. “You're a beautiful woman. I was wondering if you want to replace a witcher.”

Keira frowned threateningly and looked at him with disdain, finally openly letting him know that she didn’t like the direction in which this conversation was going. Far more than once in her life she had to deal with not very subtle advances, and all in all, this witcher hadn't crossed any boundaries yet, but something was very wrong here. Keira never avoided men, even those not very subtle, if she was in a good mood, could count on flirting with her. This one, however, didn’t flirt. Contrary to what he just said, he wasn't interested in her, not in the way he was suggesting. His gaze was cold and calculating, but she saw no desire in it.  

“Please forgive me if I sent any wrong signals,” she announced finally icily, although she knew that she didn’t send any, and her exposed breasts, which was often interpreted in this way, mainly amused her interlocutor. “So now let me be clear, to avoid any further misunderstandings: me and my witcher are loyal to each other. Both professionally and privately. I’m flattered by your interest, but let's get back to business. My witcher would be very unhappy if he knew that we raised such a topic.”

She said this to give him a clear warning. What she meant by this was that if he has bad intentions towards her, he must take into account that she has another witcher behind her, who will deal with him if even a hair falls from her head. However, she was surprised to find that the words she said were true. She wouldn’t turn her back on Lambert, she wouldn’t betray him, even if this witcher turned out to be King Tancred himself. And she was sure Lambert wouldn’t turn his back on her either. The awareness of this alerted her more than the bizarre conversation she was having with her annoying visitor. She quickly put those thoughts out of her mind, this wasn’t the time to analyze her relationship with Lambert.

"My apologies if I offended you,” he raised his hands defensively and something changed in his posture. He became less tense and less alert. The predatory gleam from his eyes was gone too, but he didn’t seem in any way contrite or embarrassed. “I'm not looking for trouble. It just seemed to me extremely… exotic that a sorceress, a woman of scholar, of such status, was interested in a witcher. Perhaps I envied my colleague a little. You understand, we don't have a very good reputation.“

You certainly don’t, she thought.

"It depends on the school,” she finally decided to attack, she was getting tired of this game of cat and mouse. “But you don't wear the medallion. What school are you from? It is quite strange, I thought the medallion was sacred to a witcher.”

The man made a gesture as if to reach for his neck, but he immediately reflected and nipped the reflex in the bud. He winced slightly.

"That's what my assignment to you was supposed to be about," he said. “Some time ago I lost my medallion. It's hard to find a good craftsman to make a thing like this. I was hoping that the sorceress help me. I've heard a lot of good things about you, people praise your amulets and potions. In addition, you work with the witcher, which makes you, in my eyes, more qualified than the rest of the wizards in the city.“

"I have never had a similar order, I will have to ask Lambert to show me his medallion,” for the first time she mentioned her witcher's name and noticed how her interlocutor slightly twitched an eyebrow. She had to admit he surprised her with this order. She also noted how carefully he ignored the question about his school. “Also, there is no elemental circle in the area to charge it, although there is a lot of intersection in the city due to the wide network of canals and the water flowing in them ... I'll have to cast the silver, and have to order the mold from a craftsman… Either way, it'll be expensive.“

“As I mentioned, I have an eye on a big contract,” he reminded. “So I should be able to afford it. Please do a valuation, I will be able to confront it with my savings. And here we come back to the heart of my visit. When can I expect your witcher to return? I'm very keen on this cooperation. I can offer a profit split of up to 30% by 70% for the benefit of your witcher, of course, but I hope that I will get a discount on the medallion. If you have time now, we could initially set some amounts.“

The way he said "your witcher" made her think. She had deliberately emphasized this belonging beforehand in order to make him understand some things, but he made this point with scorn, lined with mockery. She couldn't help but get the feeling that what he really meant to say here was: “Where is your pet sorceress? Will you lend it to me?”, and it immediately infuriated her.

“Slow down, witcher,” she barely suppressed a hiss. “Lambert is my partner and I won't be bidding without him. We don't even know if he will be interested in this at all, so for the moment please consider the medallion issue and your manticore contract as two completely separate matters.How you will resolve the issue of splitting payments will be between the two of you. Then I will possibly consult with him if this transaction will be related to the medallion in any way.”

The witcher raised his eyebrows, his face expressive for the first time. He was surprised. And he was probably pleasantly surprised, because his gaze softened. Previously, it had lost its ferocity, now there was a gleam of sympathy in it.

“I guess I've been making a blunder again,” he said, but he didn't seem a bit too concerned about it. He looked like he was starting to have fun. “Since you are a scholarly woman, I assumed that you are the head of this business.”

“Don't you know the meaning of the word ‘partner’?” Keira was getting harder and harder to hide her anger, her service mask slowly started to fall off, she was on the verge of showing him why teasing a sorceress is a bad idea.

“Oh, I know. It even happened to me that I was called a partner,” she found his stupid smile less attractive and more irritating with each passing moment. “But witchers have a hard time in business, and we are rarely treated as equal partners. We're usually just boys for the dirty work. People value our skills but not us. For them, we are no different from rabid dogs that are unleashed in pursuit of prey, and the command is always the same: kill. Do you know what they do with a rabid dog after it does its job?”

"I can imagine," she said coldly. “And I conclude, from what I have just heard, that you don’t know the correct meaning of the word ‘partner’. You know the highly distorted meaning of this term. Generally sorry to hear all this, but I'm not a rabid dog breeder and you won't find any here. However, when it comes to my partner --”

She broke off when the witcher unexpectedly put a finger to his lips, ordering her to be silent in this non-verbal manner. She hadn't expected this, she opened her mouth to protest this blunt silencing, but realized that her interlocutor suddenly became very tense and focused. He tilted his head a little, like an animal that heard a strange noise, listened for a moment, then sighed heavily, closed his eyes and froze as if waiting for something.

Keira was amazed how his attitude completely changed in a split second. A moment earlier he had been nonchalant and self-confident, now he was sitting in front of her hunched over, evidently disturbed and anxious. Was it the same person at all?

The bell at the door rang and Keira looked away from the man in front of her to look toward the entrance. She saw Lambert in a bloody armor on the doorstep, but he moved freely, he didn't seem injured. For some time now, the sight of blood on his clothes had stopped alarming her, because it usually wasn't his.

“Are you all right?“ she asked anyway, immediately abandoning visitor and getting up from the table, heading towards Lambert.

"Yeah," he replied a bit impatiently, he looked annoyed with her concern, but Keira knew better. There was no anger in his gaze, he was glad to see her. “It's just --”

He paused as his eyes finally fell on the witcher's sitting at the table. The stranger sat with his back to the door and didn’t bother to look back and see who had just arrived. Keira understood that his earlier behavior was due to the fact that he heard Lambert approaching. Lambert must also have been aware of the client's presence before he even entered the house, but it seems that only now he noticed that it was a witcher.

"We have a visitor?” He looked at Keira, there was a question in that look: Is this a client or a threat? It seems that he sensed the tense atmosphere and the sorceress's nervousness.

"Yes, this is--" She paused mid-word, as she was about to introduce them, but she just realized that the stranger witcher hadn’t deigned to give his name. So she turned to him, this time openly irritated. “What is your name, Mr. Witcher, without school and medallion?”

The man at the table slowly straightened and stood up. He waited for an unbearably long moment to react before he turned to face them. And he looked straight at Lambert.

Everything that happened next took fractions of a second. Lambert inhaled sharply and immediately reached into his belt pouch. He took a silver orion out of there and threw it at the strange witcher, but he seemed to be waiting for it. He put his hand out in a defensive gesture, the star digging into his right hand. If he hadn't, it would have hit him in the chest, but not in any vital place.

Keira absolutely didn’t understand what was going on, but since Lambert attacked she had a defense spell on her lips, ready to stun the second monster slayer. She noticed that as Lambert made his throw, he hissed in pain, which meant he must have been injured. Keira had a firm resolve not to let him fight an opponent who was left-handed and in full strength. Unlike him.

“Easy, sorceress, he was just checking,” the red-haired witcher said, very slowly showing his hand to her with an orion in it. “This toy is silver.” After that, with a firm wave of his arm, he threw the star aside, which dug into the wooden floor at their feet, leaving a bloody streak behind it.

Keira was still holding the active spell in her clenched fist, but after this declaration she lost her vigilance. Her eyes followed the orion, then looked up at Lambert.

Her witcher after this violent reaction stared at the other man. Keira hadn’t seen such an expression on his face before. Lambert was absolutely shocked and furious.

"He's checking to see if I'm a doppler,” the stranger kept both of his hands in plain view, as if he were making a gesture to assure them he was not a threat. “I'm not,” he added softly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have held silver in my hand. I'm bleeding so I'm not a ghost either. I can also tell the story of your commemorative swords to prove that I’m not a fraud. I know what the inscription is on the steel blade, and the sorceress knows I didn't get to see it outside the scabbard when I got here. Anyway, ask me any question yourself to test me.”

So Lambert asked: “Aiden, what actual the fuck?!”

“Aiden?” Keira looked at the stranger no less surprised than her witcher.

She knew the name, Lambert once, being heavily drunk, told her about him. She knows who Aiden is. Or who he was, because from the information she had it was clear that she was dead. Meanwhile, he was standing right in front of them, safe and sound, with puppy eyes. Now she understood why Lambert had attacked him, generally seeing someone who should be dead never bodes well. She tried to understand how this was possible, but suddenly realized something else.

First of all: Aiden knew from the beginning what he was here for. He was aware that the witcher Keira was working with was Lambert. He wanted to buy fucking swords because he knew them well - they had belonged to him before. And he was well aware that if he came at this time, he would find only the sorceress here. He came to take a look at her, test her, tease her, and mock her.

Second: Lambert has been mourning Aiden for a really long time. It could have been avoided. However, he allowed him to suffer and murder in the name of wrongs that probably didn’t take place.

In an instant she went mad and did something that neither of the two witchers apparently expected. She didn't really know when she let out the spell that hit  Aiden hard and threw him against the wall. Before he could pick himself up, she caught up with him, casting another spell. The witcher began to choke.

“Did you have fun?” she hissed furiously and raised her clenched fist with the spell upwards, as if she was pulling an invisible cord, thus forcing Aiden to look at her. His pupils were constricted to thin vertical lines, he tried desperately to gasp for air, certainly unable to answer questions. "You miscalculated my dear, you shouldn't mess with someone who might wipe the floor with you!"

"Keira!” Lambert grabbed the sorceress's wrist like a vise, Keira released the spell, and Aiden finally caught his breath. "That's enough!”

“Sorry, I got carried away,” she said weakly, trying to get her balance back. Her heart pounded like a hammer. "But he's been provoking me ever since he got here and he finally got it."

“All this violence is absolutely unnecessary,” Aiden croaked, still kneeling on the floor rubbing his neck. “Can we talk? I'll explain everything.”

"Dead people don't talk, Aiden," Lambert said in a voice that an iceberg wasn't ashamed of. He stared down at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“I've always been special.” Aiden smiled brightly at him. “Come on, give me a chance.”

This smile was completely different from the one he presented Keira for the last half hour. Most of all it was sincere and gentle. He looked at Lambert with trust as if he knew he would agree, regardless of the proposal.

Lambert let out an irritated huff, leaned over, grabbed Aiden by the neck like an unruly kitten and, grimacing in pain, pulled him to his feet.

Something wrong with the right shoulder, Keira noted in her mind. It was the second time he had to use it that he showed signs of discomfort.

“I mourned you, you asshole,” Lambert growled angrily, still holding his collar. “I killed a lot of people to avenge you. You better have a fucking good explanation of this farce.”

“I’m sincerely touched by your devotion.” The smile didn’t leave Aiden's face. "And if it comforts you, you haven't killed anyone who didn't deserve it."

Lambert's eyebrow twitched dangerously. Keira thought that just a moment longer and her witcher would kill someone who definitely deserved it, and then he would regret it very much.

"Okay, that's enough." She interrupted their exchange of glances. “Let's go to the back room, sit down, talk quietly and dress your wounds. Lambert, let go of him and take it off, I want to see your arm.”

They both looked at her in surprise, but neither moved. They irritated her immediately.

“What, did I stutter?“ She huffed and gestured in the direction. “In the back, like, right fucking now. I don't need a client to come and find this scene.”

“You're letting her to boss you around?“ Aiden glanced at Lambert, one eyebrow raised in an act of ironic disbelief.

“Don't piss me off, or I'll let her finish what she started,” the other witcher  hissed in response and obediently moved to the back, dragging Aiden with him.

Keira went to the front door and locked it. It was going to be a long and stormy evening, she decided that there would be enough clients for today.

_________________________________

#witcher 3 #witcher 3 wild hunt #tw3 #post tw3 #wild hunt #post witcher 3 #witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfic #witcher lambert #lambert #witcher aiden #aiden #keira metz #lambert x aiden #lambert x keira #bisexual lambert #aiden lives #keira metz is badass #fanfiction #fanfic #Granda #fix it fic #fix it #wiedźmin #wiedźmin 3 #wiedźmin 3 dziki gon #wiedźmin fanfiction

[spiritualdirections]

Racism expert: Calling someone racist is not calling that person immoral

Robin DiAngelo is one of the nation’s premier experts on diversity training, which takes the academic discipline of Critical Race Theory and packages it for workshops and seminars in corporations and universities. This helpful New Yorker review of her book White Fragility highlights something that seems to be confusing a lot of Christians (and others) today--the claim that lots of people are racists but that they aren’t morally culpable or sinful for their racism. Calling someone “racist” or a “white supremacist”, on DiAngelo’s view, shouldn’t lead that person to get upset, as if she were calling them immoral.  

A lot of Christians and others are reacting to the current conversations about race as if the word racism was meant to refer to something sinful. But the curious paradox of Robin DiAngelo’s argument is that what she means by ‘racism’ (especially ‘systemic racism’) is not immoral or sinful: 

In more than twenty years of running diversity-training and cultural-competency workshops for American companies, the academic and educator Robin DiAngelo has noticed that white people are sensationally, histrionically bad at discussing racism. Like waves on sand, their reactions form predictable patterns: they will insist that they “were taught to treat everyone the same,” that they are “color-blind,” that they “don’t care if you are pink, purple, or polka-dotted.” They will point to friends and family members of color, a history of civil-rights activism, or a more “salient” issue, such as class or gender. They will shout and bluster. They will cry. In 2011, DiAngelo coined the term “white fragility” to describe the disbelieving defensiveness that white people exhibit when their ideas about race and racism are challenged—and particularly when they feel implicated in white supremacy. Why, she wondered, did her feedback prompt such resistance, as if the mention of racism were more offensive than the fact or practice of it? 

...In DiAngelo’s almost epidemiological vision of white racism, our minds and bodies play host to a pathogen that seeks to replicate itself, sickening us in the process. Like a mutating virus, racism shape-shifts in order to stay alive; when its explicit expression becomes taboo, it hides in coded language. Nor does prejudice disappear when people decide that they will no longer tolerate it. It just looks for ways to avoid detection. “The most effective adaptation of racism over time,” DiAngelo claims, “is the idea that racism is conscious bias held by mean people.” This “good/bad binary,” positing a world of evil racists and compassionate non-racists, is itself a racist construct, eliding systemic injustice and imbuing racism with such shattering moral meaning that white people, especially progressives, cannot bear to face their collusion in it. (Pause on that, white reader. You may have subconsciously developed your strong negative feelings about racism in order to escape having to help dismantle it.) As an ethical thinker, DiAngelo belongs to the utilitarian school, which places less importance on attitudes than on the ways in which attitudes cause harm...

DiAngelo sometimes adopts a soothing, conciliatory tone toward white readers, as if she were appeasing a child on the verge of a tantrum. “If your definition of a racist is someone who holds conscious dislike of people because of race, then I agree that it is offensive for me to suggest that you are racist when I don’t know you,” she writes. “I also agree that if this is your definition of racism, and you are against racism, then you are not racist. Now breathe. I am not using this definition of racism, and I am not saying that you are immoral. If you can remain open as I lay out my argument, it should soon begin to make sense.” 

The word ‘racism’ as she uses it seems to be a simple description of a wrong state of affairs, roughly equivalent to saying “the state of black people in the U.S. should be better than it happens to be.” 

I’m not sure using the word ‘racism’ in this way isn’t more confusing than helpful. But it’s not a crazy use of the word, if we distinguish the two meanings, the personal and the impersonal:  

Christian ethics teaches that whether something is a personal sin depends on the intention behind the action; so you didn’t sin if your intention is not sinful. On DiAngelo’s view, racism doesn’t involve racist thoughts or intentions, so (concludes the Christian ethicist) in that sense racism wouldn’t be a personal sin. 

Racism-as-a-bad-state-of-affairs, on the other hand, is certainly a consequence of original sin, one which Christians should, out of mercy, try to make better.

#White Supremacy #racism #white fragility #robin diangelo #Original Sin #ethics #mercy #Works of Mercy

[lyriumsings]

hi, this may sound stupid and I swear i’m not trying to start discourse or anything, but i’m a little confused and I genuely don’t understand. About M being poc (and before anything, I swear I don’t have a problem with that) I saw Sera saying that they are greek and have mediterranean/olive skin, does that make you non-white? I’m mediterranean myself and yes a lot of people here have mediterranean skin or are very tanned, but I always thought that we were white, being european and caucasian and all? It’s just that everyone I know here considers themselves white (unless they have differente heritage) and this is the first time I’ve seen people saying that, so I don’t know if it is related to M having darker skin (in which case, totally fine) or if mediterranean people should be considered non-white if they have darker skin tones, or if depends on the country (maybe greek people have darker skin tones than idk, italian or spanish people? in which case i guess it would make more sense?) I hope this doesn’t come of as rude or anything, i’m just really confused since i read that

Hi! It’s not stupid at all and you should never feel stupid for asking. While I’m here let me just say I’ll never attack anyone for having questions or wanting me to explain my thought process or view point. I can’t promise to always be the most eloquent but I will try to make sense. But yes it mostly has to do with how dark M’s skin is, here is the post where the author color picks his skin from their own art and it’s about as dark as me (a mixed race black person who is visually very much brown).

Now, I have never claimed to be an expert in cultures or race or anything like that but based off my own experiences and based off of how dark M’s skin is I consider them a person of color. This is why I don’t even really like the term “olive” skinned because it’s very ambiguous and does actually have a wide range of what is consider “olive”. The best analogy I can think of to help me explain is like latine people; some are brown, some are white, some are mixed with African heritage but all are latine and this is probably due to my being raised in American but I am always aware of people around me that look like me, I would consider M among those people because of his skin tone. Because he would be treated differently based off that skin tone where I live. We don’t know M’s exact heritage outside of Greek maybe he’s mixed with more or maybe he’s just that dark. Either way he’s a darker skinned man canonically based off the authors own art/words and that has to be treated with care when you criticize. I understand not seeing yourself as a person of color depending on where you live especially when you live in places that are so ambiguous racially (if that makes sense).

And I’m not trying to like “push American views or labels” onto anyone or anything. At the end of the day M has brown skin. And when you throw certain criticisms at them they fit certain stereotypes that are hurtful to brown people. Both whether M is a man or a woman like calling them predatory, sexually aggressive, etc these are things darker skinned people get called all the time for all kinds of reasons across several cultures. The thing all the cultures have in common? They usually have a lot of darker skinned people.

Anyway, I hope that made sense and helped explain why it can be problematic to talk certain ways about certain characters. I’m not saying M can never be criticized they’re not perfect and I have no problem with valid constructive criticize/character analysis. But “Mason is aggressive ” or “Mason looks like he’d call me a slur” aren’t that in my book. (The clear emphasis on enthusiastic consent and servicing his partner are a whole other post tbh it’s ridiculous to even have to say at this point) These are just a couple of the most popular “criticisms” people throw around that I don’t see A get as much in my experience. Which is funny to me seeing as A is actually more “physically violent” in all the things that they break when they’re upset and the voice raising (this is something I notice cuz I’ve grown up around angry people who break things when they’re upset so much so sometimes that I am one myself) and that’s fine! It’s a character flaw, characters have flaws. People aren’t perfect 100% if the time if they were there would be no room to grow. I love A as a character but with my own past experiences sometimes those actions make me uncomfortable but that doesn’t automatically make A toxic and abusive because he shares a trait that someone who hurt me had. In a real life circumstance, I would personally have to have a serious talk about it to be in a relationship with someone like A.

Anyway, this is post is getting really long and I hope that it makes more sense than I feel it does. And these are just my thoughts and opinions based on my own experiences and what I know. I’m always open to learning if I got something wrong so long as it’s ya know actually constructive. Thank you for the ask!

#looooooong post #long post #lyriumanswers #racism #i don’t expect everyone to know everything all of the time #and i’m always open to sharing my own experiences as a woman of color #anon #discourse #i’m not saying you HAVE to love m!ub #i’m just saying be thoughtful with your criticisms because 3 of them are men of color and careless words can lead to the #perpetuating of harmful stereotypes #whether you mean to or not especially if you’re white

[ohpretty-baby]

bts as my sophomore class teachers

a thread because i miss my teachers lowkey

anyways enjoy <3

first hour: ap seminar with kim namjoon

super philosophical 

is a fanboy for rosseau, calls him the original gangster

intimidatingly intelligent; like reads 3 books in one day and writes two papers on them intelligent

constantly connecting foundational thinkers/texts to real life situations (ex: echo and narcissus and selfies in social media)

makes you feel like a bad person by questioning your moral motives

there’s never a dull day in his class

seriously

one time we spent the hour evaluating billie eilish’s bad boy and that one “sweet but psycho” song and talked about double consciousness

the next day we did a full 180 and talked about mass burials

then we talked about the refugee crisis the day after that

extremely thought provoking conversations

gives you independence, which is a double edged sword because everyone in ap sem procrastinates

wants students to exceed not only in his class but also outside of school

my irl ap sem teacher helped me figure out that i wanted to go into a career of law !

also an extensive librarian (hence the ability to read 3 books in one day)

if you have the slight interest in something, he has a book for it

i literally have 8 books checked out from my school library because of him

gives you complete and honest ratings of r rated movies and posts them on your schoology board

not afraid to be scandalous

“now everyone say it with me: premarital sex!”

that was something my irl teacher said, that day we shouted out premarital sex about 15 times with the door wide open

amazing music taste

literally

he listens to anything and everything, from french rap to spanish pop and then english folk songs

will dj for your graduation party for free

second hour: honors english with min yoongi

insanely calm, probably just very sleepy

easy going, chill

you really don’t feel pressured in his class

people goof off in class and are generally very annoying, but he doesn’t care

occasionally lectures students if he really needs to 

communicates what we have to do and then lets us do the work

lets us fail if we’re not responsible

but will understand if you can’t turn in a project if life gets in the way

i still have a project i need to turn in oops-

i haven’t received any negative repercussions tho

lets kids eat in his class and lets them go to the vending machine if they have no food

i go to my locker every morning to get food to eat

eats with us

lets you use your phone and watch netflix

will even ask you what show you’re watching and if it’s good

actually a really good teacher if you pay attention in his class

kids just think they can slack off, they end up failing tho so it’s really none of his issues

for some reason he’s a substitute teacher for a lot of classes

when he subs, the classes are extremely fun 

one time i spent my whole sixth hour talking to him about my costar and astrology

goofs off with the kids

that same day he subbed, my friends were making panoramas of each other and he rated all of them

isn’t strict

cares about his students and is very easy to talk to

because of this a lot of students open up to him

isn’t a snitch

would willingly make fun of classic literature with you

third hour: honors chemistry with kim taehyung

Super Sassy

always gets the last word when students mess around with him

“what’s your favorite double replacement reaction?”

“my favorite ones are the ones you guys get right; so none”

as you can guess, students love having conversation with him

probably has a dope ass instagram but damnit he won’t let accept anyone’s follow requests

probably because that’s illegal

constant Bad BItch energy

will openly tell students they are annoying without shame

will also openly tell you that you are dumb

once i thought that we had four principals (one for each grade, don’t question it) and my irl teacher was speechless,, like she couldn’t actually say anything at my stupidity

i would willingly sell my soul for my chemistry teacher

always has labs to do, even if they’re not very helpful at times

lets students retake tests by creating a new test 

but they’re actually harder than the actual test

students skip their own classes to visit him

i always skip my 6th hour to go into the chemistry

constantly has to chase away students

actually very sweet and cares about students, but is never really a push over

again, a constant Bad Bitch

fourth hour: honors spanish with kim seokjin

an even Bigger Bad Bitch

super fun and sassy

fiestas!!!!!!! 

we have fiestas but literally the only Spanish thing we have is chips and salsa and tacos

i’m not kidding

people just bring in cake pops and brownies

will sometimes teach a whole lesson in Spanish just to fuck with us

will also try to hold a conversation with us in Spanish just to fuck with us even more

loves seeing our shocked and confused faces when can’t answer his questions

actually teaches us

gives a lot of busy work but i honestly think that’s the better ways of learning and practicing Spanish, so there’s no complaints

engaging lessons, encourages us to make mistakes so we can be comfortable with the language

veryyyy helpful with pronunciation, makes sure that we know how to pronounce certain words

super trustworthy

once after school i spilled tea with my irl spanish teacher about a messy breakup i had gone thru, it was real fun

we have a theory that one of the senior teachers has a crush on her because he always visits her when he comes to our class

really good teacher but heavily overestimates our ability

especially when it comes to tests

but will admit his wrongs when we don’t do well in class

literally the best friend you wish you had

fifth hour: ap world with jeon jungkook

literally really pretty

really funny and sweet but his class is hard

not because of the extensive work and the fast pace, but because he doesn’t prepare students enough for saqs, dbqs, leqs, etc.

we still love our ap world teacher bc she genuinely cares about us

teaches an ap class but has never taken an ap class in high school

still teaches even tho he’s sick and his own students have asked him to stay at home so he can feel better

really fun discussion activities, like fishbowls

always drinking tea with a cool ass mug that has all the presidents of the united states on it

wears really cute clothes and coordinates colors

but sometimes will just pull up in pajamas

either way he’s Stylin

makes sure that students know that he doesn’t believe in racism and communism

always tells his students to take care when they say goodbye

draws LOTS of smiley faces

sometimes more confused about the content then the students are

but genuinely kind and hard working, even if it takes him 3 months to grade papers

sixth hour: theology with jung hoseok

confusing lectures

will talk about persecution in rome and then switch the topic onto blts (yes, the sandwich) and then talk about male circumcision

really goofy

deaf

talks very loudly because he takes his hearing aid out during lessons

honestly a really confusing teacher

a lot of people don’t like his teaching style, and neither do i, but it’s not a hard class so there’s really nothing to complain about

you really just need to read the slides in his class to pass

gives out homework but never grades it

i never turn in homework,,, 

i get a’s on his test and he just gives good grades for every homework assignment

honestly just really sweet and funny even when he tries not to

talks with his hands way too much

will take selfies with you if you let him

constantly asking for validation from his students

“is my teaching style ok? i know it can be confusing but i really try with making lectures funny so you guys won’t be bored”

can sometimes be annoying but everyone loves him because he just doesn’t make sense

literally the best class to do other homework in

sees students as his friends

once we had a public discussion online about our concerns of the coronavirus instead of actually learning about theology

i said that i was worried that i’d die of the coronavirus before i got a boyfriend

he replied to my comment saying “1. you are killing me ! :) 2. i’m sure that you have a lot of secret admirers, so the boyfriend thing is covered, they just need to figure things out. remember maturity happens at different stages for everyone.”

even though i don’t like his class at times, i know i’m gonna miss how crazy he is

seventh hour: honors geometry with park jimin

Sweetest, Softest, Most Pure of all

gives out candy during tests

but not just any candy

the really good strawberry candies that grandmas always have and never run out of

sometimes the lessons go by too fast but yet too slow at the same time

a Literal Grandpa

doesn’t let kids say “shut up” or “dumb” in his class

claims that he doesn’t even say “shut up” to his own kids

always reminds kids that this is a No Judgement Zone

rewards students who answer challenging questions with little stand-up signs that say “Expert at Work” or “Rockstar” that they can put on their desk

will buy or make little stockings that spell out the initials of the high school

brags about his kohl’s cash

once bought a $50 scooter for only $5 dollars because of his kohl’s cash

stays after school for two hours to reteach lessons to students

takes little strolls around the school building with his friends during lunch

Mental Math Mondays

mondays are when we play mental math card games with the whole class

lets kids make their own card games

will ask if you’re okay if you look sad

will also ask if you’re okay if you look sleepy

asks kids to be patient with him when they have a confusing lesson to teach

wIll thoroughly explain everything to the best of his ability

definitely has never done anything wrong

this made me genuinely miss my teachers even though i hate school with my whole entire heart, soul, and mind! anyways love u guys

#thread #appreciation #bts #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts yoongi #bts hoseok #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bangtan #bts thread #bts as teachers #bts appreciation