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#like religious studies teacher

beggars-opera · 3 months

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Parallels Between My Catholic Elementary School Experience and the Salem Witch Trials That Should Not Have Happened:

My principal was a tyrannical nun and became incensed when she realized that the entire student body did not know their prayers. I cannot for the life of me remember how she came to this apparently stunning but unsurprising realization, considering we were a school and not a convent. However, she decided to rectify this by bringing a toy voice recorder/microphone to my fifth grade classroom and forcing everyone to stand at the front of the room and recite the Lord's Prayer into it, berating the students who didn't get it right. One girl who was definitely not raised Catholic kept messing up because she was intimidated and crying and our teacher had to step in and make the principal stop.

Also one time she almost ran over one of my friends with her car but for some reason I cannot imagine Judge William Stoughton recklessly driving a carriage.

#also went to Catholic high school #because of the art program #one of the students was asked if she had a Christmas tree by the teacher and said no #the teacher was aghast and Marlena was like 'ma'am I'm Jewish'#I then nearly got both of us in trouble for trying to help her with a religious studies paper #and insinuating that transubstantiation was a metaphor #the teacher did not like that

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gaysexforlosers · 1 year

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vent

literally i just want to feel like i belong in my body what the fuck. im just. i was literally just trying to wash my hands and i looked in the mirror and its just like. thats not me im. fuck. my dysphoria has been SO bad today and i ignored it for the most part but its not really working anymore and im. fuck i swear to god if someone calls me she one more time im going to fucking break down. i wish the opportunity to be gendered correctly came up more when talking to people especially with pronouns n shit bc a lot of people are ok with using the right name for me but not the right pronouns and im just. i cant fucking handle this i hate it so much. i literally just want to fucking exist as a human being why cant people just leave me the fuck alone.

#percy posts stuff #vent #dysphoria #lol i am not feeling. good right now #one of my religious studies teachers making transphobic jokes in class did NOT help #literally the worst possible day u could have chosen to say that. cmon man #god bless my math & english teachers for being the only teachers in my school who dont fucking misgender me all the time #especially my math teacher istg if he wasnt so nice about stuff i would be SO much more depressed. like its just one class but.#it means so much. (and lowkey it shouldnt bc thats literally just basic human decency but. he was the first teacher i ever had who did that #for me so. yeah)#fuck im crying so much rn lol im trying to distract myself with video essays #the only time my mom ever used the right pronouns for me was when she was weaponizing them against me lol #and thats not just me saying that she full on admitted to doing that when i was yelling at her abt gender stuff a couple night ago #i just.#why the fuck are my math and english teachers better at treating me like a human being than my fucking parents. fuck

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burst-of-iridescent · 2 months

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South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 2)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

Part 1

In the previous post, I discussed some of the things ATLA got right in its depictions of desi and hindu cultures. unfortunately, they also got plenty of things wrong - often in ways that leaned towards racist caricatures - so let's break them down, starting with...

Guru Pathik

both the word "guru" and name "pathik" come from sanskrit. pathik means "traveler" or "he who knows the way" while guru is a term for a guide or mentor, similar to a teacher.

gurus were responsible for the very first education systems in ancient india, setting up institutions called gurukuls. students, referred to as disciples, would often spend years living with and learning from their gurus in these gurukuls, studying vedic and buddhist texts, philosophy, music and even martial arts.

however, their learning was not limited merely to academic study, as gurus were also responsible for guiding the spiritual evolution of their disciples. it was common for disciples to meditate, practice yoga, fast for days or weeks, and complete mundane household chores every day in order to instill them with self-discipline and help them achieve enlightenment and spiritual awareness. the relationship between a guru and his disciple was considered a sacred, holy bond, far exceeding that of a mere teacher and student.

aang's training with guru pathik mirrors some of these elements. similar to real gurus, pathik takes on the role of aang's spiritual mentor. he guides aang in unblocking his chakras and mastering the avatar state through meditation, fasting, and self-reflection - all of which are practices that would have likely been encouraged in disciples by their gurus.

pathik's design also takes inspiration from sadhus, holy men who renounced their worldly ties to follow a path of spiritual discipline. the guru's simple, nondescript clothing and hair are reflective of the ascetic lifestyle sadhus are expected to lead, giving up material belongings and desires in order to achieve spiritual enlightenment and, ultimately, liberation from the reincarnation cycle.

unfortunately, this is where the respectful references end because everything else about guru pathik was insensitive at best and stereotypical at worst.

it is extremely distasteful that the guru speaks with an overexaggerated indian accent, even though the iranian-indian actor who plays him has a naturally british accent. why not just hire an actual indian voice actor if the intention was to make pathik sound authentic? besides, i doubt authenticity was the sole intention, given that the purposeful distortion of indian accents was a common racist trope played for comedy in early 2000s children's media (see: phineas and ferb, diary of a wimpy kid, jessie... the list goes on).

furthermore, while pathik is presented a wise and respected figure within this episode, his next (and last) appearance in the show is entirely the opposite.

in the episode nightmares and daydreams, pathik appears in aang's nightmare with six hands, holding what appears to be a veena (a classical indian music instrument). this references the iconography of the hindu deity Saraswati, the goddess of wisdom and knowledge. the embodiment of divine enlightenment, learning, insight and truth, Saraswati is a member of the Tridevi (the female version of the Trimurti), one of the most respected and revered goddesses in the Hindu pantheon... and her likeness is used for a cheap laugh on a character who's already treated as a caricature.

that's bad enough on its own, but when you consider that guru pathik is the only explicitly south asian coded character in the entire show, it's downright insulting. for a show that took so many of its foundational concepts from south asia and hinduism and yet provided almost no desi representation in return, this is just rubbing salt in the wound.

Chakras

"chakra", meaning "circle" or "wheel of life" in sanskrit, refers to sources of energy found in the human body. chakra points are aligned along the spine, with energy flowing from the lowest to the highest point. the energy pooled at the lowest chakra is called kundalini, and the aim is to release this energy to the highest chakra in order to achieve spiritual enlightenment and consciousness.

the number of chakras varies in different religions, with buddhism referencing five chakras while hinduism has seven. atla draws from the latter influence, so let's take a look at the seven chakras:

Muladhara (the Root Chakra). located at the base of the spine, this chakra deals with our basest instincts and is linked to the element of earth.

Swadhisthana (the Sacral Chakra). located just below the navel, this chakra deals with emotional intensity and pleasure and is linked to the element of water.

Manipura (the Solar Plexus Chakra). located in the stomach, this chakra deals with willpower and self-acceptance and is linked to the element of fire.

Anahata (the Heart Chakra). located in the heart, this chakra deals with love, compassion and forgiveness and is linked to the element of air. in the show, this chakra is blocked by aang's grief over the loss of the air nomads, which is a nice elemental allusion.

Vishudda (the Throat Chakra). located at the base of the throat, this chakra deals with communication and honesty and is linked to the fifth classical element of space. the show calls this the Sound Chakra, though i'm unsure where they got that from.

Ajna (the Third Eye Chakra). located in the centre of the forehead, this chakra deals with spirituality and insight and is also linked to the element of space. the show calls it the Light Chakra, which is fairly close.

Sahasrara (the Crown Chakra). located at the very top of the head, this chakra deals with pure cosmic consciousness and is also linked to the element of space. it makes perfect sense that this would be the final chakra aang has to unblock in order to connect with the avatar spirit, since the crown chakra is meant to be the point of communion with one's deepest, truest self.

the show follows these associations and descriptions almost verbatim, and does a good job linking the individual chakras to their associated struggles in aang's arc.

Cosmic Energy

the idea of chakras is associated with the concept of shakti, which refers to the life-giving energy that flows throughout the universe and within every individual.

the idea of shakti is a fundamentally unifying one, stating that all living beings are connected to one another and the universe through the cosmic energy that flows through us all. this philosophy is referenced both in the swamp episode and in guru pathik telling aang that the greatest illusion in the world is that of separation - after all, how can there be any real separation when every life is sustained by the same force?

this is also why aang needing to let go of katara did not, as he mistakenly assumed, mean he had to stop loving her. rather, the point of shedding earthly attachment is to allow one to become more attuned to shakti, both within oneself and others. ironically, in letting go of katara and allowing himself to commune with the divine energy of the universe instead, aang would have been more connected to her - not less.

The Avatar State

according to hinduism, there are five classical elements known as pancha bhuta that form the foundations of all creation: air, water, earth, fire, and space/atmosphere.

obviously, atla borrows this concept in making a world entirely based on the four classical elements. but looking at how the avatar spirit is portrayed as a giant version of aang suspended in mid-air, far above the earth, it's possible that this could reference the fifth liminal element of space as well.

admittedly this might be a bit of a reach, but personally i find it a neat piece of worldbuilding that could further explain the power of the avatar. compared to anyone else who might be able to master only one element, mastering all five means having control of every building block of the world. this would allow the avatar to be far more attuned to the spiritual energy within the universe - and themselves - as a result, setting in motion the endless cycle of death and rebirth that would connect their soul even across lifetimes.

#atla #atla cultural influences #hinduism in atla #welp i thought this would be the last part but i ended up having more to talk about than i thought #so i'll save the book 3 inspirations for the next post #including my absolute favourite combustion man #and by favourite i mean kill it with fire why did you ever think this was okay to do writers

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daskolas · 4 months

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Rahu and Ketu in houses

Rahu (north node) and Ketu (south node) are always in opposition. Whatever house they are in, they bring emptiness into it.

Rahu in 1st house/Ketu in 7th house

This position gives individuals a lot of wisdom. Here, the person is very clever and mysterious.

Native's priority is to earn fame, being people's first choice and to be successful. They try to achieve these things by hook or crook.

Native's focus is on themselves, their independence, to learn new years and to identify their purpose.

These people also get mature really young because of the hardships they had to face.

People with this placement usually have dental problems and may even some sort of chronic illness.

This placement makes a person different from others in a positive manner

This placement can manifest lots of loneliness in native's life but it also grants them the ability to explore their self

future spouse can be indecisive but they will give good advices

Individuals can face some problems in their married life IF they won't be able to have proper amount of freedom.

Many of people with this placement like to live in dark or may prefer slow songs.

Rahu in 2nd house/ Ketu in 8th house

people with this placement have a harsh tone

native with Rahu in 2nd house, try to earn money even if it is not in a conventional way. This placement makes people extremely materialistic.

they are also prone to addiction so try to stay away from things like smoking

Your life partner can be rich and you can inherit property from your in-laws.

they like to research about different things. Trying to get to know which isn't noticeable

They also live too much inside their head

This placement also grants you good intuition and someone who is a risk-taker especially when it comes to earning money

you will also face fast changes in your life whether it is of health or career

people with this placement have high will and also are very concentrated individuals

ADVICE: changes whether negative or positive are fine. They are extremely common. Even if you facing loss right now then you may earn profit tomorrow. Try to be good and faithful to yourself.

Rahu in 3rd house/Ketu in 9th house

The person is hardworking.

They also face issues related to throat.

This placement indicates a cooperative personality so these people are prone to help someone who doesn't want to improve themselves. "I can fix them" personality.

Natives with this placement will not get support from their younger siblings if they have

Things will get delayed in life such as marriage, having children, or even career.

this placement makes a person religious and someone who respects their teachers

Even though life can get difficult but people with this placement know how to handle whatever gets thrown their way.

People with this placement know a lot of things. In fact some people may even consider them "know-it-all".

They are also good with hands so might be a good artist or do calligraphy or might have beautiful hands

You can know how to express yourself really well

Rahu in 4th house/ Ketu in 10th house

A person with placement is very courageous.

Mother plays an important role in a person's whether it is because she influenced natives a lot or because she had no influence.

people with this placement have a hard time feeling satisfied.

People with this placement face many financial issues or there were many distractions due to which they were not able to complete their studies on time.

This placement indicates that the person can live abroad.

They are also constantly moving so living far away from their birthplace or even marrying someone with different background.

you might also have an obsession with having a fixed asset like having a house, car, land etc.

Have difficulty concentrating.

you might feel like you are not welcome anywhere but mainly have a hard time feeling like you belong somewhere.

lack patience, and want things fast.

Rahu in 5th house/ Ketu in 11th house

This placement is considered very neutral as Rahu is sitting in a triangular house so there will be positive sides as well.

This placement gives a lack of happiness and benefits either from the father or children. Some people can even have difficulties with having children.

You will also not have a good relationship with your elder brother if you have any.

This placement makes a person extremely social and someone who knows how to communicate.

natives here are very good with hands. So you may have skills such as art and craft, sculpting or even some healing techniques like reiki.

person's focus here is to learn new things. They are extremely curious and are also invested in creative aspects.

this placement also makes natives intelligent so they do very well in school and are also good at additional aspects.

You will also be able to do good or achieve success in the entertainment industry so maybe an actor, singer, dancer, etc.

You may get some problems with your undergraduate degree like maybe you took a break.

This placement also makes the native mischievous or someone very active or restless.

Rahu in 6th house/ Ketu in 12th house

people with this placement are believed to be old souls.

when a person becomes old, they become extremely religious and someone who does a lot of charity.

this placement is considered good as people always stand up for themselves and are not easily repressed.

However, you will often feel that you are not surrounded by people who want the best for you. It may or may not be true.

A person's focus is on health, self-improvement, and having rules for themselves, and is also on how to develop good habits to be the best version of oneself.

they are also mature and know what to do in any situation. They also have an idea of the world.

they have contact with foreign companies or you will form connections with people from foreign countries.

you will also fall ill easily. During Rahu/Ketu Mahadasha you will also not be able to get diagnosed properly.

you will get success only by doing a lot of hard work.

You will also not face any mishappening or something happening unexpectedly.

Rahu in 7th house/ Ketu in 1st house

You can have problems in your married life. This can be especially due to misunderstanding or you may have different personality from your future partner.

You can marry someone from a different culture or after getting married, you will become extremely focused on your growth and self-improvement.

This placement makes the native yearn romantic relationships when they are young. However, when they get older they start focusing on themselves.

If Rahu is not afflicted, then you will come only in serious relationships.

This placement makes the person indecisive or someone who sometimes face difficulty in understanding what is going on because of lack of mental presence but you will be very smart.

You will also be kind or someone who likes to help people but at the end of the day, you would want to be in touch with yourself.

You will also have natural talent for astrology and tarots. You will be deeply interested in spiritual aspect.

this placement makes person very successful and creative. They will also be surrounded by many people.

You will also easily able to tell what others are feeling and would help them a lot.

You will also want to be with yourself especially when you get older, you will try to understand deeper aspects of life.

Rahu in 8th house/ Ketu in 2nd house

People with this placement tend to be mysterious and secretive. Even if you tell things about yourself, people around you can feel like they don't know you much.

You can have problem with your voice. Like have a cough or people misunderstand you a lot or you may have badmouth.

You may also talk without thinking so think twice before saying anything to anyone especially when you are angry.

this placement makes someone who spends a lot of money. So saving money can be a problem. If that is not the scenario then there can be fluctuations in finances.

This placement also makes the person money-minded so natives can think about how to generate money a lot.

You may also have some unexplained fears like you may become fearful of many things even if you haven't had a bad experience with them.

People with this placement tend to be scared of animals when they are young but when they get older, they start to love them.

You will be understanding and calm a lot but are also prone to extreme outbursts or some heavy emotional experience.

This placement also makes the person good astrologer or you will definitely study astrology.

You will also research about many things. Or you will like learning about many things.

Rahu in 9th house/ Ketu in 3rd house

this placement indicates the person will settle in a foreign. And they will also be able to achieve most success when they are working abroad.

this placement also makes the natives travel a lot. However, you will start feeling dissatisfied and can feel that traveling brings you a lot of problems.

you can have a problem with your sibling. like a strained relationship even though you love them a lot and overprotectiveness.

You will also study a lot. You may even be inclined to get a PhD.

You will people a lot. So you may donate a lot or even start an NGO to help needy people.

You can also have a hard time saying No especially in financial matters so you may give money to whoever asked you but would never be able to ask them back.

You will also care a lot about nature. This placement makes the person ecocentric.

you will also tend to share your knowledge with people as soon as you learn about them.

You will also love taboo things. You can also start connecting with the higher self. Many people with this placement tend to be agnostic.

You may face delays in your life in some places so you can do certain things like live in a foreign country, try to do meditation and become more in tune with yourself or do not talk to people who are not treating you well. Learn to cut off people.

Rahu in 10th house/ Ketu in 4th house

The person is very clever.

Career will be progressing from short scale to big scale. Long-term growth.

They can also feel very stressed due to work only. The focus is on career.

Might not receive support from parents.

A person will be highly influenced by their father but can have a negative relationship with him.

This placement is an indicator of moving abroad.

people with this placement want to be in leadership positions and have a need to be powerful. Kind of like having it all.

natives with Rahu in 10th house do well in career where you can help people or where you can influence them.

people with this placement can gain benefits from the government whether it is in terms of job or anything.

you will constantly shift between wanting to be more spiritual or wanting to have money and power.

Rahu in 11th house/ Ketu in 5th house

people with this placement can feel unlucky at times. For example, if someone wants to start a business then suddenly you start having financial issues.

relationships will not be successful.

Person's entire focus is on completing their desire like being financially strong or having materialistic growth.

relationships with elder siblings will not be good.

People with this placement should start with a job as doing their business at the start can take a lot of time. So start with a job first then move towards business.

Person is very helpful and cooperative.

they also take care of their parents.

people with this placement gain lots of spiritual and philosophical knowledge from their parents.

you will be able to get more success working with people from foreign country or settling abroad.

people with this placement do not feel satisfied easily. Always wanting to achieve more and more.

Rahu in 12th house/ Ketu in 6th house

This placement is considered very good as this makes a person very successful.

This placement is the indicator for settling in a foreign country or working with people from a foreign country.

person has a desire to live alone or live a highly spiritual life.

Even though they desire to live a detached life, but at a young age they will live a fast-paced life but as they become old, they will live the life that they desire.

Person might also not care too much about their health or even daily life issues.

This placement gives people lots of difficulties but it also grants them the ability to overcome them.

They also spend a lot of money on things that they do not need or require.

you can have psychic dreams or dreams which are extremely imaginative which you might find weird.

You might not be close to your mother or there is some distance between you and your family members.

During Ketu Mahadasha, you might fall ill and not be able to be diagnosed properly.

#astrology #astro community #astro notes #jyotish #sidereal astrology #vedic astro notes #vedic astrology #astro observations #rahu #rahu in houses #ketu in houses #rahu-ketu #ketu

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cutecatlov3r · 9 months

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my character ai bots:

bnha-

dabi: toxic bf , mafia au

denki kaminari: your a milf

eijiro kirishima: dying his hair

hanta sero: shotgunning w him

katsuki bakugou: he smells good , mean ass soulmate , ghostface katsuki , rivals to lovers , he’s bad w feelings , your pro hero fiancé , if you die so do i , girl dad

izuku midoriya: corrupting the religious boy

jjk-

gojo satoru: can’t get enough of him , vampire au , wardrobe malfunction , your affair , he’s annoying , his eyes r funny looking

geto suguru: dad’s best friend

nanami kento: healing your daddy issues

yu haibara: he’s gone , he’s sick , he admires his upperclassmen

yuji itadori: your parents hate him , best boyfriend , dorky best friend , he’s delulu , captain of the football team , gossiping w him , older brother’s best friend , you have a bf already but he loves you , your his mentor , shibuya arc

megumi fushiguro: step brother

yuta okkotsu: your a fan , welcoming the new boy , he likes when you pull his hair , he chose geto’s side that day , your best friend

haikyuu-

atsumu miya: your annoying neighbor , he’s drunk

iwaizumi hajime: scolding you after your ex did you dirty

kei tsukishima: he hates you(?)

kotaro bokuto: he’s spiderman , your his fan , emo mode

kenma kozume: streaming wars , cat hybrid , he hates you , he hates brats

hinata shoyo: healing your issues , he got sick , u get ur head hit w a ball

tetsuro kuroo: studying w him

koshi sugawara: he’s your son’s teacher , your coworker , he’s jealous

keiji akaashi: he loves feeding you , the pretty setter

yuu nishinoya: he’s drunk

demon slayer-

sanemi shinazugawa: training w him , your roommate

aot-

eren jeager: smoking weed w him

blue lock-

nagi seishiro: coke head

bachira meguru: you’re his therapist , pervert bachira

death note-

touta matsuda: he has a little crush , admiring his boss

csm-

denji: blood lust , walking home w him , mommy issues

sk8-

reki kyan: he’s a zombie

fairytail:

natsu dragneel: mating season

nanatsu no taizai [seven deadly sins]:

arthur pendragon: your his servant , you saved him , he saved you , your his holy knight

hxh:

kurapika kurta: your loyal to him , it’s only you and him

killua zoldyck: he’s your little brother

the disastrous life of saiki k:

kusuo saiki: he’s self aware , your ordinary

if you have any recommendations on more bots I can do lmk ! i’ll be adding a bunch more :x

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 11 months

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It would be so cute if you could write about harry and yn being together since highschool and they were each others first everything and they got married very early and just their live together now yk

From Here To Eternity.

a/n: thank you to the very kind anon that requested this blurb, it was definitely a fun one to write and i’m sorry it took so long to post! fyi i’m absolutely terrible at writing smut so please don’t come at me🫶

masterlist || ask me anything <3

likes and re-blogs are very much appreciated!!

word count - 9.8k

in which, harry and you first met on your first day of secondary school, and since then your lives have always revolved around each other. she’s been there through everything, his x-factor audition, when the band first rose to fame, when they went on a hiatus and when he made it big as a solo star. they were each others first everything’s, and that made the whole ordeal just that more special.

September 4th, 2009 — the first meeting.

On the first day of secondary school, your nerves were through the roof. The fact that your hands were shaking was not helping the factor that you knew absolutely no one in this school.

You were absolutely terrified of being late to your classes and having to do the walk of shame towards your desk as everyone stared at you.

Walking down the hallway, you happened to spot a boy with brown curly hair, he was putting something away in his locker and a focused look on his face.

“Excuse me,” You gained his attention as you walked over to him, his snapping over to me. “I was wondering if you happened to know where room 102 was?”

He closed his locker behind him and stood up straighter. “— yeah I do, I’m heading there myself in a minute, what’s your name? M’Harry?”

Relief showered your body knowing that you had found someone to talk to and someone you could walk into class with. “My names (Y/N)”

“So are you new here?”he asked, gripping a hold of his backpack that was over his shoulder, it blended in with your school uniform.

You nodded your head. “—yeah we moved from Liverpool, today's my first day.”

“So what classes do you have today?” Harry asked as you tried not to bump into students in your way.

You glanced down at the timetable that was in your hands and let out a small groan. “I’ve got Math, English, Religious Studies and then Science”

Harry let out a small laugh. “— I’ve got the same, looks like we’re going to be in the same classes”

Thank god.

At least you would know someone in your classes through the day and wouldn’t have to feel like a loner.

“Maths is definitely my favourite subject,”Harry continued on smiling at the thought of his favourite subject. “What’s yours?”

“Oh I’m absolutely terrible at maths,”You shook your head before pondering an answer to his previous question. “— I think my favourite subject may be pe.”

As the two of you walked towards the class (more like you following behind him like a little bit of a lost puppy) you continued to chet about your favourite hobbies.

You found out that he was part of a music group named ‘White Eskimo’ and he had even invited you to rage along to one of their practices when you had time.

You found yourself laughing at the little jokes that he seemed to slip into the conversation and you felt a lot more at ease about the school day ahead.

By the time you both arrived at the door of the classroom, you felt your throat go dry upon seeing your Maths teacher Mr.Jones already reaching the class.

Not only had you made yourself late, you had now dragged your new friend down to your depths.

Great.

Harry tried to quietly open the door, hoping not to disturb the class but the teacher had already snapped their head over to see the two of you entering the room.

Mr.Jones raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Late on the first day back?”

Your new friend looked down at the ground slightly. “—M’sorry,Sir.”

The teacher let out a sigh before turning their attention over to you and eyeing you up carefully. “Who's your friend?”

“My names (Y/N), I’m new here and Harry helped me get here, it’s my fault we’re late.”I tried to explain to the teacher who just pushed there glasses further up the bridge of there nose.

“Well (Y/N) and Harry, go ahead and take the seats at the back of the class for me.”Mr.Jones nodded there head over to the two empty seats you were expected to occupy.

As the two of you sat down in the seats, you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and felt your face flush a soft shade of pink.

Being late on your first day wasn’t so teething you expected to do. But they couldn’t really blame you.

You just didn’t want to make a bad first impression.

“I’m sorry about making you late.”You apologised to Harry, as you grabbed a pencil from your pencil case.

Harry waved you off with a reassuring smile. “— it’s all good.”

As the lesson progressed on you and Harry shared notes about the syllabus you were learning, helping each other with the work as much as you could without the teacher calling you out for speaking.

“Thanks for letting me sit next to you, you didn’t have to.” you muttered to Harry who was flicking through the textbook.

He smiled at you. “— honestly, it’s been my pleasure, and can’t wait to see where this friendship goes.”

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

April 2nd, 2010 — Prom.

When Harry had invited you round his house on Saturday, you thought absolutely nothing of it.

Since you first started year eleven, you and Harry were quick to become best friends and would often go round each other's houses on the weekend and have a sleepover until Sunday.

When he opened the door after hearing you knock on it, you could instantly pick up on how nervous he was due to the fact his fingers were curled up into a fist.

“Hi, H!”you greeted him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

There was no doubt that over the course of your friendship that you hadn’t thought about him in another way.

You spent every school day together since you started and most weekends together as well unless you were doing something with your families.

Harry opened the door a bit more. “— hey, come on in.”

Once inside, Harry led you out to the back garden seeing as it was a warm summer's day, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Until your eyes landed on the set up.

A picnic had been set up and a red and white chequered blanket was laid out on the greenery. A bowl of fruit in the middle with some sandwiches laid out as well.

“Wow..Harry,”you breathed out. “— what’s all this for?”

“I was thinking about Prom and how we weren’t too sure about if we should go,”he explained, sitting down on the blanket with you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “— I wanted to ask if you would be my Prom date? I wanted it to be special.”

Did you hear him right?

He wants you to be his prom date?

“Really?”was all I managed to speak, still trying to wrap my head around his question.

He nodded his head. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I can’t deny that I like you, we’re friends and going to prom together would be the first step into getting something more.”

Was this way of him saying he liked you?

Holy fucking moly.

“You like me?”

He smirked at you. “— isn’t that obvious?”

He took a sip of strawberry water from his cup. “So what do you say? Will you be my prom date?”

You flushed a shade of red making him let out a small laugh. “I would love to be your prom date!”

When Prom night finally came around, your nerves were skyrocketing.

You stood at the top of the stairs after hearing from your mum who was peering out the windows that your prom date had arrived and was eagerly awaiting for your prom dress to get revealed, so that he could like you even more.

You took in a small inhale of air before your heel clad feet started making their way down the stairs, hand holding onto the railing so that you didn’t fall and trip, and that was when you saw him.

Harry.

He was wearing a grey suit, with a white crisp shirt underneath as well as a matching grey suit vest and a black bow tie to compliment the outfit even more, his hair was styled the exact same with his unruly curls framing his face and had some black shoes on his feet.

“Wow,”Harry’s mouth gaped as he stared at you, “— you look beautiful!”

You had no idea that you would be matching colours seeing as you hadn’t even known what each other was going to wear.

This was complete coincidence.

Your dress was a light grey strapless dress with a long skirt that was layered. There was a sprinkling of light pink flowers embroidered onto the torso of the dress to add the slightest pop of colour.

Your cheeks flushed. “Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

Your mother was standing next to your father at the bottom of the stairs as well, a camera was in her hands as Harry came and stood next to you, placing a hand on your hip and bringing you in closer to him.

“The two of you look lovely.”Your mother complimented as she continued to take photos.

“Thanks mom.”You let out a small groan of embarrassment as Harry let out a small laugh.

Your father clapped Harry on the back as the two of you made your way towards the front door, he was grinning at him. “— take care of my daughter tonight, Harry.”

“I will Mr. (Y/L/N)”Harry let out a nervous chuckle.

After the two of you had said your goodbyes to your parents, Harry who had just passed his drivers test grabbed his keys out of his pocket and opened your car door for you like a true gentleman.

Once the both of you were in the seats, Harry turned to look at you with a look of fondness. “You really do look beautiful by the way.”

“And you really do look handsome.”You told him in truth, tucking a curl out of his eyes.

The drive to the venue was one filled with laughter and comfortableness when the two of you arrived at the venue, strobe lights were lining up the exterior as a red carpet was rolled out.

Throughout the entire night, you and Harry continued to dance, moving your bodies and that was when you realised just how charming and considerate Harry really was.

All in all you had a great time together.

As the night drew to a close and prom king and queen was announced, Harry placed a hand on the small of your back as the final slow dance of the evening took place.

“How would you feel if I took you on a real date sometime?”

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach felt as if butterflies had taken home there. “— I would feel privileged.”

What a great way to end the night.

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June 17th, 2010 — the first time.

“If you're not ready to do this…''Harry panted out as you wrapped your arms around his neck from where you were laying underneath him, both of you in nothing but your knickers. “…then we don’t have to, I’m not pressuring you into doing anything.”

“I really want to do this,”you whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose. “— there’s no one else I would rather be doing this with, I trust you Harry, baby.”

After your first date, you and Harry had been on five more before he asked you to be his girlfriend and after dating for two months you finally figured out that you were both ready to take the next big step in your relationship.

Harry nodded his head and started leaving kisses down her jaw, and lower down her neck, making you squirm slightly in his grip.

He slowly pulled the waistband of your knickers down from your hips and gradually down your leg making you wish he would simply hurry up.

“God, you're making me melt over here, babe.” Harry complimented as he took sight of your bare core, glistening and all for him.

He was a virgin also, so that factor made this even more special.

“Please..please har..Harry.”you whined, head thrown back as his hand teased at your bud of nerves, he tried not to whine as well at seeing you like this.

Your first time was together.

He was getting you ready for him and that made you even more nervous.

The condom was on his length before you even got a chance to blink.

His length was bulky and there was a large vein leading up to the top of his penis, where a drop of pre cum was starting to form.

Harry laced your fingers together as he slowly entered your soaking core.

It wasn’t as painful as you had imagined but it was definitely uncomfortable.

It would take a lot of getting used to.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feeling and knowing that the moisture was all because of him and no one else.

“You feel so good (Y/N).”Harry groaned as he thrusted in and out of you at a gentle pace.

You reached your hand up and pulled at his curls as moans and groans fell from both of your lips and filled his bedroom.

He kissed you with everything he had, and that was what solidified the deal for you.

You loved him.

Your legs tightened and your stomach copied.

“Let go, sweet girl,”Harry spoke softly, making a tear fall down your cheek at the pleasure you were currently facing. “— come for me, babe.”

“Let go, let go for me, sweet girl.” A wave of ecstasy rolled over your body as you came undone and felt his lips against your feverish skin.

Harry pressed a kiss to your lips. “— I love you (Y/N) I love you so much.”

Your pants made it hard to figure things out around you but you had definitely heard what he had said.

He loves you?

Harry Edward Styles really said he loved you.

You let out a small breath. “I love you Harry, I really do.”

There’s definitely a right place to say things like this and this was definitely the place.

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August 6th, 2010 — the news.

“I’ve got some news.”

You tilted your head to the side as you laid down next to Harry on the hammock in his garden, your legs entwined and your head rested on his chest.

You lifted your head up slightly. “What’s the news?”

“You know how you and mum are always saying that I’ve got a good voice?” He asked, running a hand up and down your arm.

You nodded at him as an answer, you did really think that he had a good voice, you would often hear him singing to himself getting changed in the mornings you would sleep over, you would hear him singing you to sleep at night when you were a little bit restless.

He was even part of ‘White Eskimo’ so if he was the frontman of a band then he obviously had a good voice.

“Well I think I’m going to audition for X-factor.”

You sat up completely, eyes wide as his words registered in your brain.

“You're going to audition for X-factor?”You exclaimed, “— as in the show with Louis Walsh and Dermot O Leary?”

He nodded his head. “I’ve been practising non stop, you hear me singing all the time, so it only seems like the right thing to do.”

“I’m really excited for you!” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his cheek out of pure affection.

“Do you have an idea about what you're going to sing?” You mused, staring at him softly.

“Yeah, I want to sing something that really showcases my voice so I’ve been thinking ‘Hey Soul Sister’.”

One of your favourite songs.

“That’s a really good song, H.” you informed him, lacing your fingers together. “— you're going to do absolutely amazing.”

He hummed. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” You assured him, the sun shining down on your skin to give it a nice sun kissed glow. “— and I’m always here if you ever want help practising.”

He laughed, throwing his head back slightly at your words, you both knew that you were a very bad singer so just the thought of you helping him out seemed funny.

“I’ll definitely consider that.”

Over the next few weeks leading up to the audition, you would hear Harry singing every chance he got.

Whether that be in the shower, in the car on the way to school, and sometimes when you stayed over you could swear that you heard him singing in his sleep.

But that only showed his dedication to impress the judges.

And that hard work definitely paid off.

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February 19th, 2013 — gaining permission.

It was a warm summer’s evening when Harry approached the front door of your childhood home.

His nerves were high as he raised his fist to knock against the wood, his mind still rehearsing everything that he was about to say to him.

After hearing someone knock against the front door, your father raised his eyebrows and went ahead towards it, opening it up and coming face to face with your boyfriend of nearly three years.

“Hello Mr. (Y/L/N)”Harry greeted the man he called a second father and offered him a grin.

Your father and Harry shook hands. “— Afternoon, Harry.”

You had absolutely no idea that Harry was going round to speak to your father tonight seeing as you were on a girls weekend with a few friends from school, and so Harry thought this would be the best time to speak to him, without you wondering where he was.

The timing was perfect really.

“I came to talk to you about something really important, if that’s alright with you.”Harry explained, his palms suddenly becoming slightly sweaty.

Your father invited him into the home and they both settled down on the sofas in the living room, Harry began speaking seeing as he couldn’t hold it off anymore.

"Mr. (Y/L/N), I know we're young, but I can't imagine my future without your daughter," Harry stated as he sat across from your dad.

"I appreciate your honesty, Harry. But marriage is a big commitment. Are you sure you're ready for that?" Your dad replied, folding his arms.

When Harry was placed as a member of One Direction, he didn’t think that his life would change drastically, he had heard stories of boy bands and their girlfriends always having a hard time, but you and Harry were beating all the odds.

The two of you were stronger than ever.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered confidently. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I love her so much and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy."

Your dad leaned back in his chair, contemplating Harry’s words. "Well, I have to say, I'm impressed with your sincerity. It's not often you see such devotion in young people these days. Alright, I'll give you my blessing."

The singer let out a sigh of relief and a smile spread across his face. "Thank you, sir! I'll do my best to make her happy every day."

As Harry stood up to leave, your dad stopped him. "One more thing, James. Promise me that you'll take care of her. She's my little girl and I love her more than anything in this world."

"I promise, sir," Harry replied, nodding his head earnestly. "I'll always be there for her and do whatever it takes to make her happy."

As Harry left, your dad couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. He knew that his daughter was in good hands with a man who loved her so deeply.

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March 1st, 2013 — the pier.

Coming to the pier was a bit of a last time for you and Harry.

It held a lot of memories for the two of you.

When you would spend the nights round his house on the weekends, you would sneak out of the house and go and spend some time at the arcades at the end of the pier, he even won you a stuffed unicorn once.

You had gone there after prom when he asked you out on a proper date to stare at the stars as they rested in the sky,

After your fifth date, Harry had brought you to the pier and asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend.

You had been on the pier when he told you that he was put in One Direction, you weren’t allowed to be at that audition because your parents said that school was more important, you were there when he told you that his life was about to change drastically.

As you and Harry walked along the pier, he held your manicured hand tightly.

“So how was your day, baby?” You quizzed him, swinging your hands back and forth slightly.

“It was good,”Harry replied, “— busy with getting things ready for the tour, but it was good overall.”

You knew how hard he and the rest of the boys were working so that they could get everything ready for the tour they were about to embark on, you were tagging along as well so that you could spend as much time with Harry as possible.

“I can imagine,”you offered him a small smile. “How’s all that going?”

“I think it’s going well, to be honest.”he squeezed your hand as you continued walking down the pier. “— we’re just working on nailing the set list and then everything should be ready to go.”

As the two of you walked, the topic of conversation shifted from work to your family and then to finally what you both wanted your future to look like.

Over the years you had learned to feel comfortable with speaking to Harry about everything and anything.

“Speaking of the future,” He spoke, making you glance over at him, your eyes locking. “— what do you see in our future?”

You had thought about an answer to this question for a while now and contemplated telling him, but now seemed like the appropriate time to say it.

“I definitely see us having a happy, loving life together,”you began to answer, breathing softly. “Maybe a house, marriage and definitely some kids, you’d be a great dad.”

Harry’s heart swelled after hearing your words. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

The two of you gazed out at the moonlit waves crashing below the wooden slats that were holding the pier up.

Finally, you reached the end of the pier where Harry stopped and turned to face you.

"(Y/N), I know we're only young," he began, "but I love you more than anything in this world. These past three years have been the happiest of my life and I can't imagine spending my future with anyone else."

Your heart was pounding as she stared into Harry’s forest green orbs that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight.

"H, I love you too," you replied, your voice shaking slightly.

“Sweetheart, you're my best friend, actually your more than that, your my whole world, my absolute reason to wake up every morning, you’ve been by my side through all the hardships and to say you’ve made me a better man would one hundred percent be the understatement of the century.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, trying to regulate your breathing as your ears started ringing as you stared at the man you adored.

Your eyes widened as you watched Harry kneel down on one knee and pull out a small velvet box from his pocket. "(Y/N), will you marry me?"

Marriage.

Harry wanted you to be his wife.

You could barely see him through the tears that were falling from your eyes, but you could make out that he was crying as well.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you nodded vigorously.

“Yes, yes, of course, I will!" You exclaimed, throwing your arms around Harry’s neck.

Once the two of you broke away from the hug, he slipped the ring from the box onto your finger, both hands shaking from the adrenaline currently coursing through their body.

The two of you embraced tightly, feeling each other's heartbeat as the gentle breeze swirled around you. For you and Harry, this moment felt like the beginning of forever.

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August, 2014 — I do.

You took in a deep breath as you stood at the end of the altar next to your father, your arm linked with his as your other hand held a bouquet of flowers.

When the familiar chords of one of your and Harry’s favourite songs rang out throughout the small registery office that the two of you had decided to get wed at, that was when you realised that this was really happening.

You were getting married.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Your father asked you, head tilted to the side.

You took in a hesitant small breath as you nodded at the words your father had just spoken. “Honestly, this is as ready as I’ll ever be.”

He nodded his head at your words before opening the doors to the side of the room, your breath hitched in your throat.

Your groom lifted his head when he heard whispers filling up the room and that was all the clarification he needed to know that you were present.

He hesitantly lifted his head and salt water instantly filled his orbs.

You looked astonishing.

It felt as if it was just the two of you in the room, your eyes remained locked on each other as you got closer and closer, the moment was pure and heartwarming.

Harry’s curls had grown out since your engagement on the pier so they were pushed back by a simple headband, so they didn’t block his view of you and he was adorning a suit of black colour, a white frilled shirt underneath as a thin silk black tie hung around his neck.

Your wedding dress was what you had always dreamed your dress would look like on your special day. It was Lacey and hung loosely to your figure in certain areas, flowers embroidered the sleeves and around your collar.

As your heel clad feet came to a stop by your soon to be husband, your father left a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, before taking a seat at the front two next to your mother as well as Harry’s parents and sister.

Your hand slipped into Harry’s and he rubbed soft circles on the back of it to reassure you that everything was going to be okay.

“You look beautiful, m’love.”Harry whispered as his own eyes filled with more tears.

The officiant glanced around at the people around you that were gathered in the small room before clearing his throat and beginning to speak.

“(Y/N) and Harry have decided to write their own vows as a declaration of there love for one another as well as there marriage,” the man began, looking down at the notes in his hands.

You and Harry locked gazes with each other and both offered each other a small smile, this was really happening.

“God, Harry I don’t even know where to begin,”you looked down at the piece of paper in your hand that was filled with your handwriting.

“— just for this day, I had to Google what the definition of a soulmate was but then I realised I didn’t have to. You were the definition. Plain and Simple. When we first met our first conversation was me asking you for directions, but over the past three years of getting to know you and fall continuously in love with you, I have come to known that you have showed me new directions of life, directions I didn’t think I would see unless I hadn’t of met you. You continue to make me proud and that’s one of the main reasons I love you.”

You glanced up at him when you had finished reading your vows and watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

Harry turned to look at the small gathering of people you had invited to be here for this special moment, and a wet chuckle fell from his lips. “How on earth am I supposed to beat that?”

He turned back to look at you, unfolding a piece of paper from his shit pocket and starting to read aloud. “— My sweet girl, m’love, when we first started dating, straight from the get go I had promised to cherish you from then on out, from our first meeting you instantly captured my heart, you’ve made me a better person, and for that I simply can’t thank you enough, your all I ever want and more, I love you and will continue to love you as long as my heart remains beating.”

There was definitely not a dry eye in sight when Harry had finished reading.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), do you take Harry Edward Styles to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?”

“I do.”

“And do you Harry Edward Styles take (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward?”

“Of course I bloody do!”

Harry’s best man, his stepfather Robin Twist steps forward from where he’s sat next to Anne, offering both of you the rings.

The ring slipped onto Harry’s finger effortlessly.

His hands worked delicately to slip yours on.

The officiant smiled adoringly. “— with the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride!”

Harry didn’t waste a second in bringing his lip balmed lips down against yours, as the taste of strawberry filled your senses, the kiss was one full of tenderness and love.

It was all official.

You were now Mrs. (Y/N) Styles.

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June 18th, 2015 — the delivery.

"I'm here!"

You looked up from the hospital bed you were currently laying on to see your husband run into the room, his eyes wide as he assessed the situation.

You were laid on the hospital bed, tears falling freely down your cheeks as your mother crouched at your bed side holding your hand and soothing you.

"H..Harry…"You spoke, voice coming out dry and hoarse.

The man rushed to your side, taking a hold of your hand and pushing some of the hair that had dried around your forehead out of your face. "— it's okay sweet girl, it's all okay. I'm here now"

Your mother gulped and looked down at the two of you. "I'll wait outside, give the two of you some space"the older women turned to look at her daughter. "You've got this (Y/N)"

Got what exactly?

Let’s answer that question.

You and Harry never really got to have a proper honeymoon after your wedding, due to the fact he was touring and didn’t have enough time to change the plans when they surrounded the band and management.

So almost six months ago, the band had decided to go on a little break near Christmas time so that they could spend the new years at home with their families and so you and Harry went back to holmes chapel.

And on Christmas Eve, the two of you christened the night and an explosion of love was formed.

You got pregnant.

And now, not even near the full term of pregnancy, your waters had broken when you were on a coffee date with your mother, your nerves were heightened especially when you had four months left in your pregnancy.

Once your mother had left the room, you turned to look at your husband, swallowing roughly. "I can't do it Harry..it's too early..they're not gonna make it!"

"Don't think like that, everything's going to be fine, I promise.” and with that he pressed a kiss to your damp cheek, grabbing ahold of your hand and rubbing the back of it softly.

Suddenly, you pinched her eyes shut and let out one of the most ear piercing painful cries Harry had ever heard, his heart beating erratically against his rib cage.

He stood up. "— I'm going to go and get some help alright..i'll be back as soon as possible"

He ran out of the room his wife was in and towards the reception area, his eyes landing on nurses who were sat there talking away. "— I need some help..my wife's having our baby"

You were clutching your stomach when Harry sprinted back into the room and resumed his position next to you, the nurses coming in followed by a doctor all smiling at you in the bed.

"Hi Mrs Styles, my names Dr Armstrong and I'll be helping you deliver your baby today, to make this experience as calm as possible, I'm going to need you to lift up your legs for me so I can check how dilated you are"

"You've got this"Harry whispered, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear.

You hesitated for a few seconds due to the fact the only person that had ever looked between your legs was harry, and the thought of any other man seemed daunting, but after Harry gave you a gentle look you slowly raised your legs up so they were bent on the bed and watched with watery eyes as the doctor slipped some latex gloves on his hand before slowly placing his hands between your legs.

The doctor then pulled his hands back, Harry letting his eyes fall on the blood on the top of the gloves, the doctor muttering a few things to the nurses, who then walked over to the other side of the room and started picking up blankets and towels.

What was happening?

"Mrs Styles, Mr Styles"the doctor cleared his throat. "— this probably isn't what the two of you were expecting but this baby is coming rather fast, and when I say fast I mean very, very fast"

Harry gulped and shook his head. "But she's only five months, surely that's not right"

The doctor smiled at the soon to be father. "That is very soon yes sir, but I have delivered babies much sooner than five months, and if we do everything right and take our time everything should be fine, I assure you"

The words just made your throat go even more dry, like sandpaper upon hearing that you were ten centimetres dilated and was soon going to be having the baby which just sent a sense

of dread to vibrate throughout your body.

"I don't want to do this Harry," You cried. "I don't want to do this..I can't"

Harry stroked a hand through your hair that was sticking to your forehead. "— you can do this sweet girl, I know you can, wouldn't have put our sweet baby in you if I didn't"

You nodded your head with all the energy that you could muster up and sat up a little bit further in the bed, your tight grip on Harry’s hand only getting tighter.

"Okay Mrs Styles, give me a nice gentle push."the doctor instructed, the nurses coming over to be on standby.

The next contraction hits your body and you ground your teeth together as you push, putting all the counter pressure in your hips.

Pushing kind of felt like when you were going to the toilet, only this was much more painful.

Tears continued to slide down your cheeks, Harry’s slightly calloused hands rubbing across her own as his own eyes welled with tears seeing the girl he loved and adored in so much pain.

"That was so good Mrs Styles,"the doctor complimented. "You're doing so well, repeat what you just did for me when your next contraction occurs, okay?"

Harry kissed your temple, just as another contraction ripped through your body, making it feel as though you were on fire.

"I can see the head."

The voices were numb to your ears, seeing as you were too busy focusing on pushing, your teeth were gritted together as your head was tucked down to your chest.

"We're so close to meeting them Sweet girl, so close,"Harry encouraged, looking in the eyes of his wife whose eyes were black.

The usual colour were filled with a pain filled black.

"The next push and you should have your baby, give me a big push Mrs Styles."

You pushed, this one feeling much longer than the others, keeping a white knuckle grip on Harry’s hand.

And that's when you heard it.

A cry filled the room, a literal babies cry.

Your and Harry’s babies cry.

"Is everything okay?"Harry quizzed, not removing his hand from your sweaty grasp.

You watched as the doctor nodded his head, letting his eyes flicker from between the two. "— congratulations Mr and Mrs Styles, you have a beautiful baby boy."

A boy.

You had a son.

A beautiful baby boy who was your’s forever.

"Would you like some skin to skin contact with your son, Mrs Styles?"Dr Armstrong asked, holding the baby in his arms.

"Yes please."You answered, perhaps a bit too quickly.

The doctor walked forward and gently laid the baby against your bare chest, moving the hospital gown out of the way.

The second your sweet baby boy was placed against your chest, you couldn't help but loud out a few cries.

Sobs even.

It may have been a bit earlier than the two of you expected, but now you simply wouldn't change it for the world.

The Styles were complete.

Harry couldn't help but let a tear fall down his cheeks, not bothering to wipe it away.

This is all he had worked for, and now it was finally here he couldn't be happier.

"Do we have a name?"one of the nurses asked, smiling at the sight of the mother holding the baby.

You locked eyes with Harry. "You tell them sweet boy"

Harry swallowed and nodded his head, not letting his eyes falter from the baby boy attached to his wife's bare chest.

"August,"he spoke. "— August Harry Styles."

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July 2nd, 2015 — the announcement.

As Harry Styles sat down for his interview, his long hair cascaded down his shoulders as he sat with the rest of the boys on the James Corden Show, a striped shirt hugging his body made of different shades of blue silk, with some black skinny jeans and a pair of chelsea boots.

He greeted James with a warm smile and sat down in the middle of Niall and Louis, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. It had been a while since he had spoken to the press, and he knew that they would have a lot of questions for him.

The first few questions were easy enough - how was his music career going? What were his plans for the future? But then, James asked him the question he had been dreading.

A question regarding his son.

Harry couldn’t be mad at James, it was his job after all and he knew for a fact that it was bound to come up one day, James was his friends, he wasn’t alone in the interview seeing as he was surrounded by his band mates, so he didn’t really have a factor to worry about.

"Harry, there have been rumours circulating that you have a son. Can you confirm or deny these rumours?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked directly into the camera. "I can confirm that the rumours are true," he said, his voice steady.

The host raised an eyebrow. "Can you tell us more about your son? How old is he?"

"He's just a baby," Harry replied, not wanting to really give away much about him. "I don't want to get into too many details, but he's the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me."

And it was true.

Just over three weeks ago, little Auggie flew into there lives and made them just that much better than they already were.

The sleepless nights brought the two of you closer,

Nappy changes brought the two of you closer,

And baby sick made the two of you closer.

The interview continued, but Harry's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had just revealed a major secret. What would people think of him now that they knew he was a father?

But when Harry left the studio and checked his phone, he was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from his fans.

They sent him messages telling him how happy they were for him and how much they respected him for being honest.

In the end, Harry realised that being a dad was nothing to be ashamed of - it was something to be proud of. And with his fans by his side, he knew he could handle anything that came his way.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

25th May, 2023 — tour life.

Touring with your husband whilst he completed his last leg of tour was something you would never get over.

Especially now that you had two little munchkins touring with you, it made you think of all the different places the two of them would get to visit at such young ages.

Your little August was weeks away from turning seven and recently you had welcomed a little girl into the family, well not really recently.

A little girl named Margot.

Margot ‘gigi’ Anne Styles.

Touring was amazing, you got to spend all day surrounded by the people you adored to the end of the earths.

You were currently in Edinburgh.

And the two of you had woken up early due to your teething newborn and decided to head down to the hotel gym whilst it wasn’t busy and get in a little workout alongside your husband to try and get your body back to its pre baby shape.

Whilst you got ready and pumped some milk that Margot would be eating later, Harry had taken the kids down to the gym with him and told you to meet him there as that would be easier.

It really was.

As you walked into the gym, your eyes instantly landed on your husband Harry who was on a treadmill, already working up a sweat.

Seeing him working out always seemed to do something to you, and you have no idea why.

Maybe it was because you liked the look of the way the sweat would be rolling down his skin and making it sticky.

Or the way his hair stuck to his temple making him even look more delicious.

Almost ten years of marriage and you still got fireworks erupting your body whenever you were in his presence.

You smiled to yourself as you made your way over to him.

"Hey there good looking," You greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, making him freeze slightly before registering that it was you and smiling softly to himself.

"Hey m’love," he replied, slowing down the treadmill to join you, he leant over the handles of the machine and leaned down so that you were the same height.

"How's it going?"

"It's good. I’m knackered, but it’s good,Just trying to keep in shape for our little ones," he said, pointing to your son August, who was playing in the corner and drawing in his notebook, whilst your eight-month-old daughter Margot, who was asleep in her stroller, thumb in her mouth and head pulled to the side.

"I know what you mean. It's crazy how much our lives have changed since we got married," You answered, wiping down the machine before hopping on and starting up on the treadmill with a brisk walk.

"Yeah, it's wild to think about. But I wouldn't change a thing. We have a beautiful family and I'm so proud of everything we've accomplished," he said, glancing over at the kids, a smile involuntarily making its way onto his face.

"Me too," You agreed, adjusting my speed so that you were now in a slow jog. "Sometimes I can't believe we went from being just two kids in love to parents of two."

It really did blow your mind sometimes.

You remember the first time that you met Harry and your nerves skyrocketed. You were new to the school and knew absolutely no one, so when you and him became friends, it was like the two of you were meant to be.

But now, through all the good and the bad, the two of you had made it out on top, through all the hate from his fans, and all the hardships you now had the most perfect family, one that you would be able to cherish for the rest of your life.

"I know, right? But we make it work and we make each other better. And that's all that matters," Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek before hopping back into his workout mode, matching your pace on the machine.

The two of you continued to work out, talking about the things you normally would, like what dreams you had during the night and what you wanted to do the day before his tour.

“I was thinking we could take the kids to a cafe for lunch today,” You suggested, taking a break on the machine to take a sip out of your water bottle. “— I was thinking it would be something different, I don’t want the kids to get bored, y’know?”

Harry pondered the idea for a second before nodding his head. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea.”

It wasn’t long before you were all heading out for cafe.

It was a warm and sunny afternoon when you l, Harry and the kids approached the cosy little cafe in the heart of the Scottish city.

After your little gym session this morning, you and Harry had both gone back to the hotel room, had some showers and then got yourselves and the kids ready.

Harry was wearing a dark grey t-shirt with some pastel coloured designs on the front of it, blue ripped jeans hugging his legs accessorised with a pair of blue and white chequered vans, a blue cap and his iconic white bug eyed sunglasses over his face.

Harry had gotten Margot ready this morning, as you were in the shower. She was wearing a dark green romper, with a nice white bow headband pushing her curls out of her face, some knee high white socks adorning her feet.

After making sure that August was ready, his outfit consisted of a beige coloured oversized shirt, a cap on his hat so that he could match his daddy and a cap so he could match his daddy, and a pair of black shorts on his legs.

Once all of the kids were ready, it was then your time to get ready for the day. You shifted through the suitcase containing your clothes and decided on a simple outfit. It consisted of a pink oversized jumper paired with a matching pink pair of cycling shorts, some sunglasses and a pair of trainers on your feet.

It seemed like forever until you were all ready to leave the room.

As you made your way inside the cafe, you could see August's eyes light up with excitement as he eyed the pastry display case.

A worker greeted the four of you as you approached the counter, pulling your sunglasses up so that they were resting on the top of your head.

Your little boy turned to look at you with puppy dog eyes. "Mommy, can I have a chocolate croissant?"

"Sure, sweetie,” You nodded your head, adjusting your hands that were resting on the stroller handles as they were getting a bit sweaty. “— But just one, okay?"

You really didn’t want to deal with him having a stomach ache if he ate too many Pan Au Chocolates.

All the food sounded so good.

"I think I'm going to get a sandwich,” Your Husband spoke.

“What about you, baby?" Your husband spoke up, looking at the menu that was hung above your heads.

"I'll have a panini, I think,” You told him, turning to look at him and offering him a small smile. “And Margot is just going to have some pureed veggies."

You placed our order and then proceeded to sit down at a cosy table by the window, the sun beating through the windows. Little Margot comfortably nestled in her stroller beside you and Harry whilst August sat on the other side of the round table so that he was also next to both of you.

It was filled with small talk whilst you waited for your order to arrive at the table, the Scottish weather really was amazing this time of year.

"Daddy, did you know that I spelt a really big word with Mrs. Addams today?" August piped up, leaning forward in his seat eagerly.

August was coming up to seven so that meant that he would have already started school, but due to the fact you and the kids were touring the world with Harry that means he wasn’t able to go to school as much as he would have liked.

So in order for him to continue his studies, you and Harry both agreed that a teacher coming on tour with the two of you would be what’s best, and so far it’s been really good.

There’s been times where August’s kicked off about being too tired to learn but Harry being his father just learns that he inherited his stubbornness.

August was definitely a daddy’s boy through and through, in personality and appearance, he definitely had a little bit of separation anxiety when it came to Harry, but that was totally plausible due to the fact he was away for work quite a lot.

When Margot came into the world, she completed your family, she filled a void that the three of you didn’t know were missing and made your hearts just that much fuller.

Both children were spitting images of their father, you wouldn’t think that you were the one that carried them at all.

They both had his iconic brown curls (Auggie’s were a bit more longer due to the fact he had seen a photo of Harry with long hair and insisted he grow it out.) they had his green eyes that you fell in love with, and had his dimples and bunny teeth.

“Really? That's amazing!” Your husband gushed, reaching forward to fist bump his son with a proud smile on his face. “— What word did you spell?"

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"

"Wow, that's quite a mouthful,”Harry leaned forward to press a kiss against his mini me’s forehead. “I'm proud of you, buddy."

August smiled at his fathers words before you all began to chat about something else.

As the four of you chatted and waited for your food to arrive, Margot began to fuss and squirm in her stroller.

"Looks like someone's getting hungry,” You went to stand up and go to her aid, her veggie purée that was in the baby bag under the stroller. “Let me get her a bottle."

"I can do it, love,” Harry grabbed a hold of your wrist softly, and stood himself up to approach the stroller “You stay here and eat. I'll take care of Gigi."

You smiled gratefully at your husband as he took Margot out of her stroller and sat her down on his lap as he started feeding her the purée you had made this morning in the hotel room while August and you chatted about what he wanted to do for the rest of the day.

As you finished your lunch, Harry chuckled and began to speak, "I don't think I've ever been surrounded by this much cuteness before."

That was true, your kids were the absolute cutest and the two of you weren’t biassed at all.

“And we wouldn't have it any other way." You sighed contentedly, they were your entire world, without the kids and Harry you're not sure what you would be doing right now.

With full bellies and happy hearts, you gathered your things and headed back out into the bustling city, ready to take on the rest of the day together as a family.

As you left the cafe in Edinburgh, you watched as Harry pushed Margot’s stroller, and held August’s hand so that he was close to you. You could see the fans waiting outside, and knew that you had to be careful.

As you made your way to the car, the fans started to call out your husband's name. "We love you, Harry!" they would shout.

You could feel August's grip on your hand tightening. He was scared, and you didn't blame him. You had been going out with Harry for thirteen years and still his fans didn’t cease to make you anxious. But you knew that you had to keep moving, to show that August couldn’t be scared because he would be scared if you were.

You reached the car, and Harry quickly put Margot in her car seat. August climbed into the back, and I got into the passenger seat, whilst Harry got in the driver's seat. As you drove away, you could see the fans in the rearview mirror, still calling out your husband's name.

"Mommy, why do they want to see daddy?" August asked, you could hear a slight quiver in his voice.

You offered him a gentle smile as you turned back to look at him in the backseat, his hand was holding onto his Sister’s,"Because he's a very talented singer, Auggie. A lot of people love his music."

August nodded, and you could see that he was starting to relax. You knew that it was going to be a long tour, but you were determined to keep your family safe and happy.

As Harry drove through the streets of Paris, you could feel the excitement building in the air. Harry’s husband's tour was going to be huge, and you

Knew that he was going to be amazing. But you also knew that it was going to be hard on all of you.

"Mommy, can we listen to daddy’s music?" August asked from the backseat.

"Of course, sweet boy," Harry enthusiastically reached forward, turning on the radio. Adore You came on, and I could see August's face light up.

"Your so good," August exclaimed, “— your the bestest singer in the whole wide world!” He was tapping his foot to the beat.

You and Harry both smiled, You were feeling proud of your husband and his talent. But also knew that being a pop star wasn't easy. There were always fans waiting outside, always paparazzi trying to get a photo.

You and your family arrived back at the hotel, and you quickly got Margot out of her car seat whilst Harry picked August up, although he was almost seven years old almost, he still like a cuddle.

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May 26th, 2023 — late night talking.

“Can you believe it's been almost ten years since we got married?" You asked Harry as you lifted up his hand to play with the wedding band sitting around his ring finger.

You laid in bed with Harry in Edinburgh, after his show and the two of you were absolutely knackered.

His show was incredible like it always was, he got the crowd going like always and brought a smile on not just your face and the children’s faces but every fan's face in the stadium.

He was in everybody's safe space.

You had put the kids to bed earlier and had both shared a shower together before crawling into bed and snuggling up against one another like always.

Harry chuckled and replied, "I know, it feels like yesterday. We were so young and naive back then."

You smiled up at him, shifting on your side and placing a hand on his naked torso (he liked to sleep in just his boxers), "But look at us now, we have a beautiful family and a great life."

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, we've come a long way. I'm proud of us."

You looked at Harry, "Remember when we used to talk about having kids? We were so scared."

Harry laughed, "Yeah, we were clueless. But now we have August and Margot, and I’d like to say we're doing just fine."

Parenting was definitely hard at times, but you and Harry always worked together to make sure that everything was going smoothly at all times, you both agreed you didn’t want your kids growing up in a household where there was animosity.

You grinned,pecking a kiss to his chest, "August is growing up so fast. He's already six years old."

Where had the time gone?

Where was your itty bitty five pound baby?

"I know, it's crazy,” Harry nodded, rubbing a hand up and down your back in a soft manner. “—And Margot is already eight months old. Time really does fly."

You sighed contentedly, "I'm so grateful for you and our family. We've been through so much, but we always come out stronger."

Harry smiled lovingly at you, pressing a soft kiss to your nose, "That's what love does. It makes us stronger."

It was true.

You and Harry always came out stronger when the two of you had a little disagreement, and that’s what made your relationship worth while.

You and Harry continued talking, reminiscing on your lives, feeling grateful for their life together. You knew that you had both come a long way, but if there was one thing you were looking forward too, it was to see what the future for their family.

"Are you okay?" You asked Harry as you noticed him struggling to keep his eyes open.

Harry shook his head, "I'm just feeling a bit tired today. I didn't get much sleep last night due to Gigi teething and the routings just started to get to me, nothing that a good nights sleep can’t fix.”

Yoy looked at Harry with concern, "Why didn't you tell me? Tonight, when the baby monitor goes off, I’m going to get Margot, I don’t care if you insist I sleep, I’m going, you need to be well rested.”

Harry smiled at you once again, yawning shortly before. "Thank you. But I wanted you to get some rest too. You've been working so hard lately."

You felt touched by Harry's words.

You knew that he was always looking out for you, even when he was struggling himself.

“Let’s try and get some shut eye.” You turned to the left and switched off your lamp on the bedside table before turning back around and snuggling into your husband's chest once again.

This was definitely your favourite sleeping position. His arms made you feel safe, as if no harm could ever come to you or the kids.

“I love you.” Harry spoke, looking down at you and puckering his lips slightly.

“And I love you, darling,” You replied, pressing one last goodnight kiss to his lips. “— from here to eternity?”

“From here to eternity.”

#musicforastylesrestaurant #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fake ig #harry styles headcanon #harry styles x oc #harrystylesfandom #harrystylesdrabble #harrystylesxyn #harrystylesfic #harrystylesrequest #harrystylesxreader

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stil-lindigo · 5 months

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Hey, I just wanted to share something with you, as someone who's so invested in the Palestine conflict, I hope it might inspire hope, even a little.

I was born and live in Egypt, a very conservative and religious country. These days I deleted my Tiktok and rarely ever use Twitter, as I'm in my senior year, and seeing the constant deaths and torture was getting into me so much that I couldn't even eat or drink properly, nevertheless properly study. I honestly am not proud of myself for doing so, but there's comfort in the fact Egypt is so Pro-Palestine. There's a lot to be done, and even for people like me, we can help.

My school has been donating food, clothes and blankets to Palestine. The McDonald's in here have been trying to distance themselves, claiming they're "100% Egyptian", only to get mocked and insulted. I go by the local McDonald's, there's a lot of schools where I am, around 5 in two blocks, and where before they were constantly so full, these days they're so empty. I can only see maybe 3, 4 people in there. A lot of people in my school are on a complete strike, against every American product. We've resorted to buying and getting local products instead. Egypt is doing very poorly economically at the moment, but there's still a lot of effort into knocking out American products, even if not by the companies, by the youth and the children. I can't go a single class without one of my teachers openly supporting Palestine. My Arabic teacher constantly uses the people in Gaza to teach me grammar, calling them brave and courageous. My geography teacher denies Isreal, and has been in league with others to get more donations and aid. Egyptians believe so truly that Palestine will be free that it's hard not to think so too. I've had classmates openly agree that if they could, they'd join the army to help fight for Palestine, I've seen more people than ever mocking the current regime, I've seen more people than ever falling out of the American illusion and seeing it for what it is. I've spent a lot of religion classes being taught Arabic brotherhood and chivalry, when previously, the lessons were stereotypically conservative in nature and I used to despise them for it.

Yes, the government sucks like every other, but there's an air of open support in here. No one is losing their jobs for stating the truth, homes and shops are waving the Palestinian flag. Even the antisemitism, which was rampant, has seen a noticeable decline. People in here stand for Palestine.

I want to also let you know you've been an inspiration for people, or at least, to me. I want to be able to participate more, and I see your reposts and reblogs and I want to do even more than what I did at the start, which was retweeting and reposting and sharing what I can to my friends. Unfortunately due to my current living situation and my terrible memory, I missed being able to donate to the school, but they have stated to open up donations again soon, and I'm preparing in advance for that one. I was not raised Zionist, but I was raised warned against participating in political affairs, saying I'd be put in more trouble, and even could be killed. But I see you and I see so many Americans losing their jobs and being branded criminals and as moral failures for speaking out, and I find it harder and harder in me not to also speak out. And even if I'm not constantly retweeting and reposting, there is something I can do. You helped me realize that, and I'd like to thank you.

I hope this cheers you up even a little, I've noticed your posts these days expressing how much this has been upsetting you. It's been upsetting to all of us, and I want you to know that it's not fruitless, no matter how many western countries and how many bootlickers make you feel otherwise. This ordeal has taught me the world is a brotherhood, politics and money are never a reason for why we should not stand together, and why we shouldn't speak for those having their voice silenced.

Please excuse me if something comes off wrong or unnatural. Like I said, I was born and I live in Egypt, English is not my first language and I still have issues communicating my personal thoughts in it. Please never don't stand for Palestine. Please never lose hope for it, like the Egyptians never have and never will. Please never let people make you feel hopeless and insane.

Thank you for listening to me, thank you for caring about Palestine when it would've been easy not to. Thank you for using your platform, and if you found it in you to read this thing, thank you for giving time to a brown Arab, when the world so strongly encourages you not to. Please continue to inspire justice, and I hope the world one day continues to inspire hope for you.

😭 anon, I cant explain how much I appreciate you sending this message. I know there is hope for Palestinian liberation, I know that we will see freedom for Palestine. But god do I need the reminder sometimes that we aren’t all just shouting into the void. My country of Australia shamefully takes a cowardly stance on Palestine, always deferring to the US to guide our foreign policy, and yet always claims moral superiority over other countries such as yours. Thank you, really thank you so much for sending this message. I feel so so honoured to have earned an audience that includes you. I believe an audience does reflect an artist, and to know I have done you proud in any way makes me feel full.

And please don’t ever feel ashamed of your English, you are eloquent and have a wonderful, compassionate voice, and you have inspired hope in me for yet another day.

#free palestine #askbox #I need to save this one. to look at when all seems bleak and hopeless #thank you anon I needed to read this today

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fishnapple · 29 days

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CRYSTAL READING: What would bring you good luck? 🌻🌟✨️

A little explanation of the method I used for reading

Lithomancy : I assigned a meaning for each stone (each stone represents a planet) and cast them on a circle divided into 12 parts, just like an astrology chart and do the reading

Pick a stone :

Reading for each group below :

1. Trolleite group

There is a contrast of two sides.

blue vs. red

personal vs collective

A hidden fire underneath a calm blue surface.

Wearing or using white and blue objects during travelling, especially long journey, dealing with a large crowd or going to public institutions, religious or spiritual places, the banks etc. would help you navigate the surrounding environment more smoothly.

It could be the colour of the clothes, vehicles, bottle, backpack etc.

Bringing a book and a notebook with you while travelling is also very beneficial.

Going near a large body of water, the ocean, the seashore, fish, and shells will help calm and ground you.

But for your private home, planting lots of flowers, paint the wall in warm pale tones of pink or pale orange, yellow will bring wamrth and vitality.

For harmonious communication, you could use a pink phone or a pink phone case, a pink notebook and pen, and pink accessories.

As I have said above about a hidden fire, intimate connections would stoke a creative fire within you, bring in more inspiration and life force to your projects.

Show a more vulnerable and soft side of yourself to the world and see how that would lead you on an unexpected, lucky journey.

2. Citrine group

There is a sense of an overall blessing draping your life. It's soft and jubilant.

You should surround yourself with soft, pastel colours and oceanic motifs.

Having a kaleidoscope and occasionally looking through it can unwind some restrictive thought patterns.

Travelling will bring lots of luck and valuable lessons. Schools and learning are also very important steps.

The more you study broadly but also deeply, the more depth and value you will find in life and in yourself. There is a calling from the depth of the ocean. To go deep, your life is not meant to be spent in a light, breezy, superficial way.

Have an exercise routine, not necessarily something vigorous, but just move your body around, writing or practising something with your hands daily will also assist you in this journey.

A teacher with masculine energy would also help you transform your fundamental way of thinking, building a more solid and vibrant inner core.

I also see that keeping yourself warm and monitoring what you eat closely would bring positive changes to you.

Bright red, orange, soft purple and blue, black would be your lucky colours.

3. Garnet group

Some period of wandering by yourself, away from familiar faces and environment, would do wonders to you. Especially when you feel quite lost, confused, or aimless.

Allow yourself to be guided by your intuition.When the urge strikes, just pack your things and go without too many thoughts and concerns.

It would be like a spiritual cleanse.

Things that relate to cleansing would also help you. Soap, salt, something smells of lavenders, lemon, rose, and water.

After some long walks or runs, taking a shower with soap or shampoo of these scent.

Take good care of your hair. Our hair is one of the most visible signs of life growing, of progression. I would usually imagine it as inverted roots of the tree that is our body.

A healthy root system would make a healthy tree.

I'm also see that some objects with cradle-like shapes are quite beneficial for your financial and physical growth. A bowl, a basket, a candy dish, something that can hold others.

The colours to bring you luck are jade green, sky blue, lilac, and dark red.

4. Rose quartz

When I saw your spread, I immediately heard the sound of wind chimes. More specifically, a brass wind chimes, the one with no frills, just simple tubes of brass swaying gently in a place with lots of dark trees. The place feels simple, quiet, serious, and solitary.

Hanging some objects like wind chimes, dream catchers, or something light, delicate by the door or windows. Or wearing earrings with that kind of shape would bring good luck to you.

Even more so if it was made by your own hands. I even saw some kind of transparent panel make of glass or acrylic with painting on it, dangling in front of the window, sunlight striking through, making rainbow dance in the room.

Light and sound would affect your energy profoundly.

When things feel unstable, difficulties arise, you could go to places that are old, with lots of history, have big, strong, square structure, or anywhere that has 4 walls surrounding you to feel more grounded.

Number 2,3,4 would show signs of blessing.

Things or beings that come in pair, in groups of three or groups of four.

Consider using things with contrast, a combination of complementary colours ,

dark and rich colours combine with light, soft colours such as green and pink, light blue and brown black, lilac with dark red, orange with cold grey.

5. Carnelian group

For this group, it's not really about something physical like a place, an object that could bring you good luck. It's more about words, thoughts, and emotions.

When dealing with others, sometimes not revealing yourself entirely would actually achieve more peace and honesty in that relationship.

You have an intense inner world, you see clearly the hurts, the vulnerability, and the darkness in yourself and others. Your words would have a heavy , serious trigger. It's not easy to always bring that heaviness out into the open because it would create misunderstanding and anger in others.

So, not showing yourself too much, wait and observe, until you and the other person reach a certain understanding of each other.

An outward elusiveness and detachment sometimes would help balance out the inward gravity.

Having a psyche like that would manifest as sensitivity in the physical body such as allergies, so avoid eating too much spicy and hot food or strenuous activities so as not to aggrevate the body further.

A healthy bridge between bodily nourishment and the psyche should be established. Observe how some food would affect you.

The biggest message is to take good care of your health. No amount of blessings is enough if you are not actually healthy to receive them.

For colours, dark earthy and creamy tones would make a nice comfory blanket for you.

❤️

#crystal reading #lithomancy #pick a card #channeled message #crystals #lucky #pick a pile #blessings #colour #positive light #intuitive messages #divination #spirituality #astrology #astro #astrology chart #horary chart #horary astrology #crystal casting

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slytherinboysappreciation · 1 month

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Adoration - T. R. x fem!Reader

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I figured I’d post it. It’s unedited and my first time writing a sex scene so please be nice 💛 No use of Y/N. Reader is Dumbledore’s daughter. Tom is in his seventh year for this fic

Infatuation, the second part, is here

CW: Angst, so much angst; religious trauma, I guess?; Dumbledore bashing; mentions of devils; mentions of past physical abuse; trauma related to masturbation; crying, nausea, shame, and self-hatred related to masturbation; hurt/comfort kinda; praise kink; uhhh I think that’s it. Please let me know if I missed anything!!!

Does contain mature content so NO MINORS PLEASE!!! Just keep scrolling!!

999 words

Tom hated Dumbledore. The professor reminded him too much of the priests at the orphanage. The ones who smile and pretend to be your friend, but are never there when you truly need it.

Tom hated Dumbledore. The way he so obviously played favorites while blatantly denying doing so. Slughorn was an annoying professor, but at least he admitted to his favorites.

Tom hated Dumbledore. The way the man looked as if he knew something Tom didn’t. It got under his skin; made him itch with discomfort.

But no matter how much Tom hated Dumbledore, he hated his daughter more.

You’d been his first true connection to the wizarding world. You’d been there that first day, when Dumbledore had come to visit Tom in the orphanage.

You’d stood quiet and docile as Dumbledore told Tom about his magic. Tom had listened, of course. But it wasn’t until he was alone with you later that he truly believed.

You’d sat on the edge of his rickety bed, while your father had gone to discuss things with the orphanage nuns.

“They call me a freak,” Tom had said quietly. “They say I’m possessed by the devil.”

You’d looked at him. You, with your lovely wide eyes and sweet trusting smile. “What’s a devil?” You’d asked, so earnestly. “Your magic is special. See? I can do it too.”

You’d held out your hand, concentrating. A small flower had bloomed in your palm, sprouting from nowhere. And Tom had finally believed.

Believed you and your stupid smile. Your darling sweet manner. Your soft-spoken words.

All the things he despised about you now.

Despised… and adored.

Tom could not get you out of his head. You haunted him. Hounded him. It was maddening.

Every morning you’d smile so sweetly at him. You’d laugh or say something silly and inconsequential. And it would stick in Tom’s head all day long.

He couldn’t stand it!

You were nothing compared to him. He was Tom Riddle, the newly discovered Heir of Slytherin! The future ruler of the wizarding world! Voldemort!

You were the daughter of a half-witted buffoon who’d abandoned Tom as soon as he’d gotten to Hogwarts.

And yet, he could not get you out of his head.

Like now.

He’d been in the library, trying to study peacefully when you’d approached him with that smile of yours. You’d needed his help getting a book down.

Of course he helped; he could never truly end up saying no to your smile. Just another fact he hated.

But he’d stood too close to you while getting down the book, and he’d accidentally brushed up against you.

And now he was in his room, angrily trying to will the erection you’d unknowingly given him away.

It doesn’t work. Not after five minutes, not after ten. The memory of your blush and sweet smile was too much.

Tom can’t stand this. He has a meeting with one of his teachers in an hour!

So there’s only one thing to do.

Tom settles back into his bed, exhaling heavily. This has rarely been a pleasurable experience for him. The nuns at Wool’s were strict in their devotion to chastity. Even with the boys.

Tom’s been beaten more times than he can count after being caught trying to get some relief. So he avoids it until absolutely necessary.

And now he’s having to do it, all because of your horrendous smile.

Tom unbuckles his pants, glancing at the door to double check it’s locked. It is.

Tom takes his time pulling out his cock. Rushing feels too much like being back at the orphanage.

He grimaces at the sight. Too many bad memories are associated with what he’s about to do.

With a deep breath, Tom closes his eyes and clears his mind and wraps a hand around his cock.

The self-loathing hits after the first few moments. It’s strong enough that he falters, wanting to vomit.

But the need for release is stronger than his hatred. He continues on, swallowing down his nausea.

Every moment is like torture. His mind conjuring hateful words about himself, while his body aches with pleasure.

He starts to cry; silent tears pooling in his eyes. It’s too much. The hatred. The disgust and shame.

Just as he’s about to let go and give up, a new thought enters his mind. A smile…

His frenzied mind attaches itself to the thought like a rabid dog. Before he can even comprehend the switch, Tom’s breath is taken away.

There you are, in his mind. Sitting at the edge of his bed, smiling.

He stills immediately, but your smile isn’t mocking. It’s… peaceful.

“Silly boy,” you murmur, in his mind. “What are you so worked up about?”

Tom swallows, shaking. “You,” he whispers.

You laugh, soft and teasing. The sound makes Tom ache.

In his mind, you reach out, fingers feather soft. You grasp his cock, that ever-infuriating smile on your face.

“Silly boy,” you coo. “It’s as easy as this.”

As your imaginary hand glides along his cock, his own hand does the same. Tom whimpers. It feels incredible.

He starts to speed up, panting as your imagined self murmurs encouragements to him.

“That’s it,” you whisper to him. “That’s my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeats, breathless.

You laugh again, your voice so achingly soft. And Tom cums so hard his ears ring.

He hunches over, gasping for breath. You’re gone now. His thoughts flit around aimlessly. What had just happened?

He lies back, gazing up at the ceiling in shock. He’d just— You’d— You.

He’s made a mess of his pants and bedsheets. But this time, the shame and self-hatred are overshadowed by a sudden rush of annoyance.

Of course it would be you. You, with your smile and laughter. You, who he cannot rid from his brain as much as he tries.

You.

He cleans himself up, too busy plotting how he can get his revenge to feel ashamed at the mess.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #reader is from an unspecified hogwarts house #please don’t be mean to me over this #divider by cafekitsune

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hansoeii · 9 months

Note

Several things: -LOVE your art, it’s amazing! Especially the one with Crowley and Aziraphale under the umbrella - which software do you use? Your art always look SO gorgeous (cheeky quote from GO right there lol) - how did you get so good at drawing?And thank you for encouraging other people to keep drawing and being so kind as I sometimes can’t help but compare my sketches to others and feel silly, but I guess it’s just a learning curve… Thank you so much for bringing your art to the world!😊

Thank you so much!!

I use Clip Studio Paint for drawing and Photoshop for small adjustments!

2. Haha thanks! Honestly...it's the hyperfixations. I managed to improve a lot in just a year because I've been drawing SO much cos there's so many shows and movies I became obsessed with that I wanted to create art for. So by drawing a lot I just naturally improved. For example these two Illustrations are just a year apart:

I actually didn't actively try to improve, it's been a while since I did proper studies (I just don't really have the time for it between freelancing and art school), it just happened.

But I can absoluetly recommend going on YouTube and look for some art tutorials if you actively want to start improving! There's some channels that helped me so much back then:

moderndayjames

Incredible shape language and super insightful tutorials on all kinds of topics! I learned so much from him.

Ahmed Aldoori

So many awesome tutorials on so many different areas of art. Love it.

Marco Bucci

Incredible tutorials on color theory and understanding how color works in general! Learned SO much from him!

Sinix Design

The OG tutorials I began learning from. I watched his videos religiously as a teen. I adore his painterly style and adopted it in some way, haha.

Ethan Becker

This dude sometimes drops these tiny art tips that just completely blow my mind and that I adopt immedietly. He's super entertaining but also such a great teacher.

And I can also recommend checking out this book by James Gurney if you want to get better at colors!

And for anatomy I highly recommend the Morpho books!

But improvement doesn't only come from drawing a lot. A lot of the time I don't draw for a while and just study the world and artists around me and suddenly I improved when I get back to drawing. Don't ever overwork yourself to the point that you don't enjoy what you do anymore. Take breaks and listen to your body!

I learned to try and not compare myself to other artists, which helped a lot. Through conventions and social media I made so many lovely artist friends and realized how we're all struggling in a very similar way. A lot of us don't even really know what we're doing most of the time, haha. But we help each other out, it's such a wonderful community. I think when you're not actively part of the community it tends to feel like other, more successful artists are some kind of art gods that have perfected the craft and never struggle. But believe me, all the artists you admire go through rough times all. the. time. Sometimes what they do feels easy and natural, other times (more often than not) it feels like you have to try and learn how to walk all over again and you start to doubt your abilities. I personally go through that so many times.

So what I'm trying to say is that instead of comparing yourself to the artists you admire, learn from them instead. Ask questions, befriend fellow artists, study the artists you enjoy and just have fun with it!

And finally I thought it would be fun to share some of my horrendous Johnlock fanart from a decade ago for some motivation:

I hope my answer didn't overwhelm you, but I thoight it would be nice to give a more detailed answer!

Have a wonderful day and keep drawing! :)

#ask #my art #art tutorial #art resources #art help #digital art

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rozyteaa · 10 months

Text

Thinking about Whitney being confident he can handle those he looks down upon. Kylar? That little weirdo can't do nothing without a knife. He can easily snap his bones.

Robin? A loser goody-two-shoes.

That teacher's pet Sydney? No spines.

That's until PC came in.

Not only they can handle his harassment. They can also fight him if they want to. The extension of that influence?

Robin gained more confidence. If Robin stops holding back, an upper cut is enough to knock Whitney on the floor. Maybe it's only a one-time thing but Robin probably displaced Whitney's jaws for weeks

Sydney? He either get weirded or get surpirsed how heavy his fist is. Religious boy can lift! His gym? The church! On the ther side, he will probably get weirded of Sydney's sado-maso trait.

And Kylar? Despite there's a high chance Whitney can snap his bones, Kylar can care less. It's a survival instinct. He won't go down easily. He will bite like a dog, scratch like a cat, punch and k ows exactly where it hurts. He studied it for PC. Overall, he is feral.

#.rozy diary #degrees of lewdity #dol #is whitney hour bois #whitney the bully #sydney the faithful #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #sydney the fallen #dol pc

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heartfullofleeches · 11 months

Note

What would happen if somehow, someway loser reader gets a human, maybe a yan religious person whos aware of the sex demons and how to keep them away from our dearest reader?

"bunny ears, jumped into the hole, popped out the other side beautiful and bold."

A rhyme used to teach them how to tie their laces as a child, but worked just as well for lunch boxes. They cooked meals for all manners of occasion and person. Teachers, shelters, holidays - but none quite mattered as much as the plentiful feasts they created for their dear neighbor and longtime crush - you. From what they'd witnessed, you couldn't do a thing on your own. They washed your clothes, scheduled doctors appointments, and so much more than they could count on one hand. It was like you were already married. As of late, you haven't asked for their help and even changed the locks on your doors to prevent them from getting into your apartment. While the pain was excruciating, they knew you weren't at fault.

It was them. Those demons.

From a young age they could sense the supernatural. A gift bestowed on the first born of a new generation. The door of your apartment oozed with their scent, and so did you. It's human instinct to give into temptation, and their biggest regret is that they hadn't confess to you sooner. If they express their love the day it bloomed you could've been married by now and they would have claimed the role those devils had taken. How cozy and warm your bed must be. A taste of the heaven you're both bound for once they save your soul from their wicked clutches. It was only a matter of time before they could free you, but first - they simply had to study their rivals.

Knocking on your front door, your neighbor raps their knuckles against the frame twice, breaking with a short pause before the final beat. The thick wood muffles a barrage of obscenities as someone crashes out of bed and to the door. You answer with disheveled hair clinging to your sweaty face and bruises along your neck - figure covered up with a stained bedsheet. Your neighbor averts their eyes, shame brewing as their drawn back to your exposed chest and legs. You yawn, stretching until there's a soft pop from your spine.

"Yeah?..."

Your neighbor smiles. "Y/n! Good morning! I assume all is well? I made a bit too much for breakfast this morning and, oh - well, I'd hate for it to go to waste so I brought you the rest."

"Oh... Thanks, Elio. I was kinda hungry." You reach out for the meal - shuttering as warm lips meet your neck.

"Aw, but I was just about to make you your favorite meal. You cheating on us with a new cook now, baby?"

This creature. Even in human disguise, its stench was over powering. Eilo was sure the tears in the corners of their eyes was from it, and not the way that demon clung to you so. They're stronger than that.

You swat them away. "I told you not to do that while I'm talking to people."

The demon chuckles, tugging at the band of the shorts you threw on. "Sorry, baby. I forgot. Guess you'll have to teach me some manners, hm?"

Elio clears their throat. "Either way, I'd appreciate it if you take this. Give it to a.... friend - or save it for tomorrow?"

The demon's smirk falls. "Yeah, yeah. Hand it over."

It extends its hand to take the box, reeling back with a ghastly screech as their flesh sizzles from the brief contact. Their eyes darken; teeth barred. Eilo smiles innocently.

"Is there a problem?"

"You fucking bitch."

The demon lunges for Elio, but you hold them back and shove them inside - pinning them with your weight as best as you could. "Calm down! You'll get us caught!"

The demon thrashes beneath you, nearly successful in bucking you off if they hasn't been reduced to mortal form.

"I said - calm down!" You crash your lips against their fangs, biting down on their serpent-like tongue to snap them from their frenzy. Their limbs goes taught, lips finding yours in an open kiss. Two shadows appear beside you, one lifting you off the floor and the other holding their middle finger out as they slam the door. It breaks Elio's heart to do so, but they take their leave. You pick up the lunch box after they depart. The cloth around it is drenched in water.

Three. There were three of them. This will be easier than they originally thought.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere oc #Loser reader #Saint Yan #Elio my oc #yandere teratophilia

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ddarker-dreams · 7 months

Text

Nexus IV.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit not SFW, alcohol consumption, Space Politics, possessive behavior, yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 15.4k.

Nexus index.

Time plucked away at the few petals still clinging to Kafka’s roses.

The insipid end brought an inexplicable sense of relief. An irrational foreboding cast suspicion upon the bouquet; you considered it an ill-omen. You observed it religiously as one would an upside-down hourglass. Waiting, anticipating, dreading. When the last petal fell, you breathed a sigh of relief. It was late by then, so you decided to throw the remains away in the morning.

Presently, you examine the vase.

The once wilted stems stand tall, pridefully lifting its crowning gem on a green pedestal. Ruby-colored petals burst forth, wickedly beautiful and fragrant.

Is this a practical joke? Some little parlor trick intended to unnerve you?

The latest developments in holograms include olfactory stimulation. Consider this, you decide to test its authenticity. You reach out, expecting your hands to glide through an incorporeal image.

Your fingers meet resistance.

You try again just to be certain — the results are the same.

You’re more determined to get rid of it now than ever.

You pick up the most vain rose by its stem. It delays its demise by pricking you, earning a temporary pardon along the white veneer of your vanity.

Blood pools into a crimson dome on your finger. You watch it, mesmerized, taken aback by memories that emerge alongside it.

The voice of a haughty girl echoes throughout your being.

“What’s wrong? It’s just a bit of blood. We all have it inside us, don’t we?”

The LOTUS-EATER has always been your home.

So long as it wasn’t open for business, you were free to run amuck. Of course, you refused to run amuck — how unladylike is that — but you did enjoy roaming. There were a lot of interesting things to look at. Anything was better than spending hours in front of that dumb blue screen with its stupid made-up people with stupid made-up problems. You didn’t get it. Everyone always said you’d grow up to be a super amazing Arbiter. You’d get tons of clients, make them all happy, get mountains of credits, buy the IPC, and then fire their staff.

Miss Calliope, your teacher when mother was busy, said it took most twenty years to get to where you’ve gotten in one. This reinforced an argument you’d practiced for many cycles. You thought for sure you could convince mother.

It didn’t work out that way.

Mother said you had to keep studying before you could make a link with an organic being. You really wanted to argue, but you chose to act like an adult and be angry in silence instead. She tried to win you over and offered a ride on the nectar guides. This bribe almost swayed you from your mission. To ensure she knew how serious you were, you said you’d pass, calmly enough for her to know you weren’t actually calm.

She went off somewhere to discuss boring things with boring people. You seized this opportunity to further refine your strategy and paced The Lounge’s hallways. Maybe if you broke the blue screen, mother would have no choice but to let you learn through experience. This idea greatly enthused you, until you remembered they could just get another blue screen. For this mission to succeed, you needed to cause the ‘collapse of supply chains.’ This was adult for ‘we can’t get the stuff we want’ from what you could surmise. The problem was, you didn’t know where these important chains were located. There’s Thelx, the good place, Ade, the weird place, Mele, the boring place, and Arc, the scary place.

You stood and contemplated. If you had to hide something important, you’d put it in the scariest spot. Arc it is then.

A mission of this magnitude would be unlike anything you pulled before. You’d need a… what was that term again…? Accompanied lice…?

Accomplice!

That’d be the crux of the whole thing. It couldn’t be any of the adults either, they’re all snitches. You required someone who would do your bidding. You closed your eyes and concentrated. There were three people around. Two on the first floor, one on the second. You sought out the latter.

A little boy with long blonde hair and dull blue eyes sat by himself in the break room. He hadn’t noticed you yet, he just stared off into space and halfheartedly kicked his legs. The workers sometimes brought their kids along and stuffed them in here, where there were snacks and games. He didn’t seem interested in either.

What resolve, you thought. What fortitude!

You walked in front of him, pointed, and loudly demanded, “What’s your name?”

“M-Miss Phaeales?” He squeaked.

“No, that’s my name,” you sighed. Maybe your intuition was off. “What’s your name?”

He hung his head and frowned.

“Oh, um… I’m Vincent.”

You squinted. “Huh? That can’t be right. Vincent’s the bartender. You can’t do that.”

“He’s my dad. We have the same name.”

You felt a strange feeling from tinier Vincent; the kind of strange feeling that made your stomach and head hurt. Mother said you’d be able to block it out as you grew up. You hoped you’d grow up soon.

“Well, that’s dumb. I don’t like that name,” you decided. He remained silent. “Pick a new one.”

“I don’t think I can…?”

“You can because I said you can. Pick a new one, or I’ll pick one for you.”

He stared at you like you had three heads. You did the scary thing mother does when angry — you counted down from three to one in a mean voice. Not-tinier-Vincent just sat there and looked confused. You scrunched your face up when your mean counting finished. You didn’t get it, that always worked on you. He must be immune to pressure… a quality your mission required.

Maybe he had his merits after all.

“Alright, I’ll pick one. From now on, you’re… hm… Lear.”

You placed your hands on your hips and nodded. This is a great name, you thought. It rhymes with so many things.

Lear tilted his head. “Uh… alright?”

“Great. Onto the next business order — how old are you?”

He put up five fingers.

What luck you have!

You grinned. “I’m seven, so according to the law, you have to listen to me.”

“The law?” He questioned.

“Yeah, the law. It’s what you have to do or you get in trouble.”

Lear processed this new information and nodded. “Okay. I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“From now on, you’ll be my ac—”

You covered your mouth with your hands. Wait a moment, you can’t tell him he’s an accomplice! He might not help you then. That was a close one. You considered alternative titles, but none of them sounded as cool as accomplice. What a shame, but it can’t be helped. Missions required sacrifice.

“From now on, Lear, you’ll be my best friend.”

…

A few cycles later, you convened on the balcony outside of mother’s office.

You liked the balcony. No one made you use the blue screen there. Sometimes, when you weren’t monitored, you’d grab a chair, pull it to the railing, hop up, and stare. This is Eris, you’d think. A cold planet far away from the stars. Stars are big fireballs that make everything nice and warm. I don’t think I’ll ever get to see one. It’d be cool if I could.

You displayed a vital object for the mission.

“Lear, do you know what this is?”

Lear stood still with his hands in his pockets. “A circle?”

“No. Well, okay, yeah, it’s a circle, but this is called a hair tie. You use it to tie your hair.”

“That’s cool.”

You held it out to him. “For this mission, full visibility is required. I’d cut your hair, but mother hid the scissors from me.”

His tiny hand grabbed it. Lear regarded your gift blankly and glanced back at you, his eyebrows furrowed. Did he not know what to do with it?

You sighed because that’s what mother did in these situations. You started to get why. You took the gift back, tied your hair up, then returned it. He managed to do it on the fourth try. Relieved that the trial was over, you clapped and smiled. Your effort has been rewarded.

“Good job, Lear.”

Lear’s head rose at that. “What?”

“I said good job. When someone gets something right, that’s what you say.”

“... It is?” He murmured. You nodded. You didn’t think you needed to teach him the basics, but an accomplice must be capable. Miss Calliope said that extra effort was always worth it. She changed her mind after you grabbed a stool to mix the adult drinks. You’d like to think she still meant it.

“Since that’s finished, we can get to the main event.”

You pulled out a paperclip from a pocket inside your dress. The object was subjected to your immense strength, manipulated, and reforged. It went from a boring shape to a useful shape. You took a deep breath, brought the paperclip’s edge to your pointer finger, then stabbed down. Lear released a choked sound when blood surfaced.

You cleaned the paperclip’s edge with your dress’ hem and handed it to him. This would go on to determine the rest of your life, you decided. It needed to be done well.

“I read that doing this makes your promises stronger. Since we’re gonna make an important promise, it has to be extra strong,” you explained. The color drained from Lear’s face. “What’s wrong? It’s just a bit of blood. We all have it inside us, right?”

Lear refused to take the paperclip. “A promise? Miss Phaeales, I don’t know if I can.”

“You don’t have to press hard. It barely stings, anyway.”

“B-But...”

You pursed your lips. “Lear, we have to, or the promise will be weak.”

Lear shook his head and took a step back. There were lots of weird feelings that came from him. They confused you, you couldn’t think of a word to describe them. It didn’t hurt, but it felt heavy on your chest. What did you do wrong? Were paper clips that scary? No, it had to be something else. Mother said you can’t focus on another person too hard because it’s unfair. If they don’t tell you it themselves, you shouldn’t know it.

“Lear…?”

He stood on his tiptoes and reached for the number pad. You revealed the top-secret passcode to him, since the balcony was to be your top-secret hideout. Every top-secret hideout had to have a top-secret password. The detective books you read said so.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Lear apologized. His voice sounded tiny. “I’m really sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say to stop him or if you should try.

Was this what people meant when they called you pushy? You wanted to complete the mission, but you also didn’t want Lear to be sad.

The door opened and quietly closed.

With that, the first friend you ever made was gone.

…

The next time you were allowed on the balcony, you were curled up in a ball.

You hugged your knees to your chest and sniffled. Mom was mad at you. Miss Calliope was mad at you. Mister Caicias had scolded you. The other Arbiters were less nice too. You don’t think they ever liked you, but at least they pretended they did. It’s okay to hate you for now so they stopped pretending.

You could hear their thoughts. You didn’t want to, but you could anyway.

What a spoiled child.

If anyone else had done what she did, they’d never be allowed in this line of work.

I hope the Exalted Arbiter lives a long life, if this is to be her successor.

Your throat was sore, your eyes burned, and your chest hurt. You didn’t know you were spoiled. You never thought you were better than anyone. You hadn’t realized your attitude was awful. You just wanted to be confident like mom. That way, no one would be worried about the future. Everyone on Eris relied on mom. Everyone on Eris will have to rely on you eventually.

You looked at the black sky, the only sky you’d ever known. It always felt sad. The gray clouds were like little discolored tears.

You wondered if Noct ever felt bad that they made a planet where everyone was unhappy.

Someone’s coming, you realized. Is it moma?

It isn’t.

It’s the little boy with blue eyes and long, blonde hair. This time, it’s pulled back into a ponytail. You hadn’t changed the top-secret password, he must’ve used it to gain entry.

You hurriedly rubbed your tears away, and he looked elsewhere until you gave up on your task. Afterward, he sat down beside you. He hugged his knees to his chest as well.

“Are you okay?” He murmured.

You nodded and sunk your head into your knees.

“... Those kids are mean, anyway,” he reassured. “I dunno what they said, but it’s not true.”

“It is too. The adults think it but they don’t say it,” you whispered.

You know it’s true. Your mission to Arc almost caused what Miss Calliope called ‘a scandal.’

You snuck out of the LOTUS-EATER by yourself.

It wasn’t as difficult as you expected. You just borrowed a staff member’s lanyard, pressed it against the door, and it opened. You stuck to the shadows and navigated your way south. You could tell when an adult was close if you heard their thoughts. The thoughts were rarely happy. You pushed on until you encountered an alley, where some older kids were gathered.

You froze; you hadn’t accounted for kids. Their thoughts weren’t as loud and terrible. You didn’t hear them.

This bunch, though… they had a kid’s build and the expression of an adult. You counted four in total. One was tall, another was scrawny, the tiniest covered in dirt, and the last kid wore a tattered shirt that reached their knees.

The tall kid spat on the ground.

“This is our spot,” he said. “Get lost.”

You fidgeted.

“Hello, um… could I just pass over that fence? I’ll be quick,” you reasoned.

“Are you deaf or something? I said, get lost.”

The scrawniest kid squinted at you. “Hey, wait a sec, J. I feel like I’ve seen her before.”

“Really? When?” The tiny one squeaked.

“Y’know, during those big events for when Arc folk move over.”

“Huh, now that you mention it…” the tall boy trailed off, “You’re [First] Phaeales, right?”

He said your name like it was a disease. It made your heart hurt.

“Can you read my mind? What am I thinkin’ about, huh?” The scrawny kid called out.

“Hey, be careful. I heard those things can make your head explode with a single look,” the kid in a long shirt whispered.

The tall boy guffawed and stepped forward. “Really? Is that true?”

You took a step back.

“What? You gonna run away? Can’t stand to see people like us, huh?” He remarked. “Must be nice, getting everything you ever need handed to you. Yeah. Real fuckin’ nice.”

“I don’t—” your voice gave out. You ignored how they snickered and pressed on to finish your important sentence. “I don’t think that about you! When I grow up, I wanna help—”

The tall boy stormed over and lifted you by your dress’ collar. “Help? Help? You can’t do shit. You people never do anything! You promise and promise and never come through!”

You didn’t understand, there was too much to process. Anger and sadness mixed to become a storm that you were caught in the middle of. You closed your eyes and hoped the pain would go away. Maybe you prayed to Noct, maybe you cried out for your mom, you don’t really remember.

When you reopened your eyes you saw a music box. It was simple, small, and made of wood. There was nothing else around it. No ceiling or sky, floor or ground. You couldn’t speak, so you couldn’t scream. Nothing felt normal. This wasn’t Eris. Did you float into space? Can anyone save you? Would anyone find you?

The music box’s handle creaked; the lid lifted like a yawning mouth. No song was played. Voices came out instead, though they sounded far away. There was nothing else to do but listen.

“At this rate, she’s only going to get worse…”

“You don’t know that. I have a few more items I can pawn off, and then…”

“... Temperature of 102 degrees…”

“How much longer will this embargo last? Why can’t they just give in to the IPC’s fucking demands already? We all know they’re going to, but we have to sit and suffer while they play politics!”

“Honey, keep your voice down, the children are trying to sleep…”

“... Temperature of 104 degrees…”

“My wedding ring! There’s still my wedding ring! We have— we have to go fast, the pharmacy closes at 3400!”

“Jason, your mom and I need to run a very important errand. I need you to keep an eye on Iris, okay? Can you do that for me? I know it’s scary, but it’ll all be okay, I promise. We’ll be quick.”

“Hey… big bro?”

“You shouldn’t get up! Here, lay back down. There you go, take it easy. Mom and dad will be back soon. They’ll get what you need, and… and… it’ll be okay. They promised.”

“I’m sorry… for making everyone sad.”

“No, no, that isn’t true! When you get better, we’ll be the happiest family there is. We’ll— we’ll take a trip to the entertainment district, get tons of yummy food. I’ve been saving up my allowance so I can spoil you. You can have cookies, cakes, whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“... Pudding too?”

“Of course, pudding too. You’ll have so much, you’ll need an entire lifetime to eat it. A long, long lifetime. So… just wait a bit longer. They should be back any minute now.”

“You want to hear the music box mom gave you? That’s all the way in the— no no no, don’t look at me like that, I’ll go get it. See? Keep an eye on the door, lift your head just a little bit. I’ll be quick.”

“Hey, look what I found. Works like a charm too. Hm? Did you fall asleep? That was fast. It normally… it takes… normally takes… l-longer…?”

The music box slammed shut.

The tall boy — Jason — released his grip on you and staggered back. His friends ran to his aid. You squeezed your head in your hands, fell to your knees, and tried to disappear. It hurt, it hurt, oh, it hurt, a pain you’d never experienced before. It felt like your chest was stabbed over and over again with something sharper than a paperclip. This pain, his pain, it was too much.

A few guards that’d been dispatched to search for you overheard the commotion. They ran over, worried that you were injured. Nothing was wrong with you physically. The pain came from within. You thrashed and screamed when they picked you up. You wanted to be left alone, you wanted it to go away.

You looked at the tall boy one more time before they pulled you away.

Tears fell from his eyes and they couldn’t stop.

You don’t think those kids were mean. They were just really sad.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” the little boy said. His voice wavered. “I was scared.”

You felt numb. “Of me?”

His eyes widened and he waved his hands as if he’d caught on fire. “N-No, well, kinda, but not like that. You’re nice. You don’t tell me to smile or to stop looking sad.”

Your lower lip trembled. “But I made you tie your hair up.”

“I see better now.”

“And— and I said your name was dumb.”

“... I don’t like it,” he said. The strange feeling reappeared. “That name. It is dumb. You know that I guess, ‘cause of the mind stuff.”

“Isn’t that scary?”

“Maybe if you did mean things with it, but… that name made me sad. So you picked a new one. Lear is cool. It rhymes with stuff.”

You lifted your head. The little boy wasn’t lying, you could tell.

“Why’d you leave then?”

His little hands balled into fists by his side.

“I was scared. I was asked to make a promise before, and I lied. It was a promise I didn’t like,” he explained.

Then, he lifted his finger. A droplet of blood dripped from it. “I shoulda said something. I’ll try, I’ll really try, so please don’t be sad. It makes me sad. I want… I want to be best friends!”

A lump formed in your throat. Tears stung your eyes, the strength of his words pierced through your sadness like an arrow. A friend. You never had a friend before. You didn’t think you’d ever get to have one. Mom said it’d be difficult, that if you wanted it, you’d need to try harder than you’d ever tried before.

You launched at Lear, your arms outstretched, and wailed loudly. He caught you awkwardly with a gasp. You pressed your forehead to his shoulder and hugged him tight.

“I don’t want you as an accomplice anymore! You’re my best friend! I really mean it this time!” You exclaimed in between sobs.

“Eh? Accom-police?” Lear struggled to repeat the new word. Then, for the first time since you met him, he laughed. “I don’t really get you, Miss Phaeales, but… I wanna.”

That kid, Jason… is he okay? Did he ever go back home to his parents? You wonder. I used to think I could prove him wrong, that I just needed to grow up faster so I could fix everything. And yet, these past two years have been some of the worst economically.

You grab the rose by its petals and return it to the vase.

The crystal lotus shines beside it, its multiple surfaces flickering between brilliant hues. This gift, while beautiful, never particularly stuck out to you before. It wasn’t until Blade expressed an interest that it stood out more.

You sit in front of your vanity.

Mom… was I a good daughter?

You brush foundation along your face.

I always thought you never understood me, but…

Mascara darkens and thickens your eyelashes.

… I never tried to understand you.

You slam the makeup drawer shut.

It has officially been three months since the IPC instituted its travel ban on Eris with seemingly no end in sight.

Unemployment rates have crept up from 5.3% to a staggering 15%. We reached out to a financial advisor for Metis Mining from Mele, a company that has laid off one-third of its workforce.

“It’s an awful situation,” he said. “Essentially, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. I’ve been in this field for some 150 years — never have I seen anything like this. Thelx is our heart. If it stops pumping, we stop getting the blood we need to live. We need tourism. We need our heart to beat again.”

An advisor for Chrysus, however, is singing a different, more upbeat tune.

“We’re feeling optimistic. The negotiations have been going well. None of us want this to last longer than it has to. We’ve cooperated fully with the IPC’s requests, working endlessly to provide the necessary documentation for them to drop this unfounded charge. We ask that the people of Eris stand together. I will not be accepting questions at this time. Thank you.”

“What is Chrysus doing,” you groan. “The optics on this are terrible. ‘We ask that the people of Eris stand together,’ sounds like a bumper sticker for a spaceship.”

The comment section on the article expresses a similar sentiment. The most upvoted post is a picture of Eris on fire with bottom text that reads, ‘Don’t worry, just keep standing.’ The second is a screenshot of the advisor’s comment with the caption ‘me when i lie.’ To make matters worse, the user’s profile picture is the lead singer for Mushroom Mania but with a flower crown photoshopped onto his head.

You squint at the tiny text beneath it.

Your friend banona69 liked this post.

“Blade, can you cut my phone in half?”

He throws you a disinterested glance.

“Riveting conversation, as usual,” you lean heavily on sarcasm to reel him in.

“You’re working. I won’t interrupt,” he drawls.

Or maybe it didn’t, who knows, he’s as easy to read as an esoteric tome in a lost language. It is true that you’re working. Keeping up with clients, overseeing reimbursements for canceled appointments, apologizing for circumstances you have no control over; the usual. Your latest torment involved your bank’s servers going down when your employees’ paychecks were due. They’re testing out a new customer service android, but yours had a bug that caused it to repeat everything you said.

That predicament came to an end and five more popped up in its place.

You stretch your arms above your head. “If I handed you over to the IPC, do you think they’d lift the travel ban?”

“Find out for yourself.”

“Huh?” You swipe your monitors away so you can gauge him better. “What do you mean by that?”

Blade kicks himself off the wall and uncrosses his arms. “If you can subdue me, you can turn me in.”

That’s one of the biggest ‘ifs’ to ever if. You narrow your eyes, like that’ll help your ability to discern his intentions. He’s standing there, intimidating as ever, his countenance betraying nothing. You decide he has to be joking. It’d be a major inconvenience for Kafka and her cronies to break him out of IPC holding. You know precious little about Blade, but you do know he takes his job seriously.

Regardless, this cycle has raised your blood pressure to unprecedented levels, so you play along. A little fun never hurts.

“Didn’t Nona tell you about my mind-liquifying technique?”

“Screeched it, more like,” Blade dryly recalls. “It’s a bluff.”

You swivel around on your chair and get up. He remains perfectly still as you languidly approach, his burning eyes never leaving yours. An electrifying sensation courses through your body the closer you get. It’s unfair how beautiful he is. His dark hair that shifts into a crimson shade, broad shoulders, narrow waist, his surprisingly soft lips that are almost always drawn in a straight line; the wanted posters don’t do him justice.

You have to crane your head to look up at him, the man’s so ridiculously tall. You’ve never liked it when people look down on you — this must be the lone exception.

“And if it isn’t?” You challenge.

“You would never,” Blade insists. It isn’t your eyes he’s focusing on anymore, it’s your lips. “You’re too…”

On the occasions you can get Blade talking, he’s never at a loss for words. His cadence has a quiet confidence. If he’s in the mood, he’ll have a rebuttal for every possible sentence you could concoct. It’s immediate too, as swift as his bladework. It’s unusual for him to trail off for this long.

“Too…?” You encourage, tilting your head.

“Forget it.”

You don’t have the luxury of pressing the issue. He quite literally sweeps you off your feet, taking long strides to your office’s couch like he owns the place.

“You missed your chance,” Blade lays you down on the cushions and crawls over you. “Unless you’d still like to try.”

You glare at him halfheartedly and prop yourself up on your elbows. This guy must have a thing for manhandling you, because every chance he gets, he goes for it. You splay your hand against his chest and lightly push. He gets the message and moves back, allowing you the space necessary to lift up your blouse. He’s all over you immediately after, kneading your chest and trailing hot kisses down your neck. He stops at the spots with bite marks or bruises, giving them extra attention so they don’t fade.

“Maybe I could, who knows? Perhaps I’ve extended you mercy,” you breathe out.

Blade pins your wrists above your head with one hand, his amusement evident. “You’d be the first.”

He leers at your cleavage like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His lips are back on your skin, starting at your collarbones and then moving down. He lavishes your chest in lovebites, his teeth practically married to your skin. Your low-cut shirts will be collecting dust in your closet at this rate, he’s seen to that. He kisses down your navel and stops shy of your skirt’s waistband.

“Is this for me?” He plays with your skirt’s short hem, raising it to reveal your thighs.

You did choose this risque skirt to see how he’d react, but he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing this.

“You’re not the only person I ever see,” is your cheeky reply.

He doesn’t look impressed.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you, though,” he says, as plain as someone describing the weather.

You frown and twist your head to the side. He picked up on that, huh? You don’t know if it’s definitive, but you haven’t conducted tests to find out. It is exhilarating to lose yourself in carnality without fearing the repercussions. Still, you don’t want him to believe that gives him an exclusive claim to you. You’ll both enjoy yourselves, he’ll get recalled from this job, and that’ll be the end of it. He’ll be nothing but a story you drunkenly recall to Nona. Nothing more, nothing less.

Possessive men are a turnoff. If they wanted to own the thing they stick their dick in, they could buy a sex android. You’re not a sex android. You don’t run out of battery power in six hours or incur hilarious yet painful-sounding reasons for lawsuits.

“Pouting again?” Blade taunts.

Long, gloved fingers lightly glide against your inner thigh.

“I don’t pout,” you sigh as his hand dips past your waistband. “I brood.”

“Mhm.”

His fingers are quick to find your clit. He rubs the sensitive nub in slow motions, applying minimum pressure. Your breath hitches and you look up at him through lidded eyes. His towering form cages you in. This couch is one of the few surfaces he hasn’t taken you on yet. Your bed, your office chair, your desk, hell, even the wall; he’s fucked you on almost every object with the geometry to permit it.

Your head tilts back as he steadily drags his fingers down the length of your pussy. His ring and middle finger barely slip in before he pulls them out, returning to their previous task of gathering your slick. There’s enough for each swipe to create audible sounds, despite the relaxed rhythm he’s set. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by him. No, he grins at you, his eyes practically shining.

“Shut up,” you grumble, covering your face with your forearm.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to, it’s written all over your— ah!”

His fingers plunge into you without the slightest resistance, all the way up to his knuckles. You gasp at the abrupt intrusion. Normally, he takes surprising care when pushing anything inside you — whether it be his cock, tongue, or fingers — gauging how your face contorts to ensure you aren’t in pain. He couldn’t have been touching you for more than a minute and yet your body produced enough lubrication to easily suck him in.

“My what?” He probes, lowering his face close enough for your noses to touch. His soft black locks tickle your cheeks.

Blade curls his fingers as if beckoning you toward him, which is exactly what he gets; your back arches and you curl your arms around his neck for purchase. He’s noted this clinging tendency of yours and has taken great pleasure in pointing it out. You mewl as he carries on his ministrations, loving the contrast of the cold leather against your warm insides. He finger fucks you nice and slow. His lips find yours, kissing you in a way that can only be described as tender. You reciprocate, though the lustful haze permeating your mind desires something rougher. This is the sweet kiss of a lover, not a… whatever the two of you are.

Blade pulls back an inch when you run your tongue over the seam of his lips.

“Are you ever satisfied?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you huff. “Do you have any idea how much shipping Plan B to this planet costs?”

He exhales sharply in amusement. “You like when I finish inside.”

Your walls clamp down on him before you can protest this claim.

“Would you look at that,” Blade hums, his voice dropping in volume as if he were sharing a secret. “I can’t even move my fingers, that made you squeeze them so tight.”

You’d like to think he was exaggerating, but it does take a few seconds for him to comfortably slide his fingers in and out again.

“You’re delusional. That’s… an involuntary muscle contraction.”

He quirks an eyebrow.

His fingers abandon their prior creed. He embraces a new tenet — one that seeks to make your lips part in pure pleasure. You writhe beneath him at the unrelenting onslaught. He angles his palm so that it rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You’re quick to sync up with his sharp movements. Every time his fingers glide back in, your hips rise to meet him halfway. Soft gasps and moans fill the air as your peak grows closer.

Your walls start to tighten, promising that sweet ecstasy will soon be yours.

The second time it squeezes down, his merciless pace relaxes. He doesn’t stop entirely, he just slows down enough that you aren’t getting the stimulation necessary to come undone. You bite down on your lower lip. He hasn’t deprived you of an orgasm since this feverish passion began; he’s been more interested in seeing how many times he can fuck you to completion. He didn’t even subject you to this cruelty when you made a jab at his age that set him out to prove he doesn’t ‘have the refractory period of an old man.’

You don’t bother trying to move your hips for more friction. One night, during the afterglow of sex, you inquired after his sword. Among other things, he nonchalantly revealed its weight of three thousand pounds. You called his bluff. He was in an agreeable enough mood to summon it, allowing you to test the claim’s validity yourself.

Sure enough, you couldn’t even drag it an inch across the ground…

His breath is hot on your ear as he whispers, “Admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you love it,” he commands, his fingers massaging your walls. “Don’t be shy.”

“I’m anything but shy.”

“Hm. Dishonesty doesn’t suit you.”

You groan in exasperation when his fingers come to a complete halt. Is he really going to make you admit something so embarrassing…? Your face burns as hot as those faraway stars. You examine his expression, searching for some sign that he isn’t being serious. It’s a poor tactic. His countenance is stern, except for the blush on his cheeks from how aroused he is.

“I…” you inhale shakily, your lower lip trembling, “I like… when…”

“Love,” he corrects.

You turn your head to the side and squeeze your eyes shut. “I love when you… cum inside me.”

His clothed cock twitches against your leg.

“I know.”

Blade returns to the heavenly speed that has your mind all but floating away. His palm rubs down hard on your clit, his fingers searching out for that spot you love so much. Inhibitions gone, his name is the only word your tongue can form. Everything else that isn’t Blade has been erased from your lexicon. He makes you feel so good, it’s maddening. He’s addicted to your body and you couldn’t be more grateful.

To be wanted, to be desired… what bliss this brings.

Your muscles tighten and release as waves of pleasure devour you.

Your insides spasm around him, demanding that he doesn’t let up until you’re satiated. He’s happy to oblige. Once your orgasm-induced daze lessons, you yank him down to your lips into an open-mouthed kiss that has you swapping saliva. He swallows a whimper from you while pulling his fingers out, leaving the area he’s become so intimately acquainted with. The arm that he was using to hold himself above you snakes behind your back. You’re made to sit on his lap as he shifts upright, your skirt flaring out.

As always, it’s you who breaks from the heated kiss first.

Blade raises his gloved hand for you to see. You gape at how the onyx-colored leather has lightened, thoroughly coated in you. He parts his middle and ring, allowing dewy threads of your essence to form. Those crimson eyes go from admiring his handiwork to reveling in your embarrassed expression. As if you weren’t flustered enough, he slips his fingers into his mouth. His length hardens and he groans quietly while sucking off your slick.

While savoring your taste, he starts the familiar process of pulling your drenched panties down. You set to work on undoing his belt. He then hits an area that’s difficult to pull them over. He gives it one more try before frustration surges from him, hinting at his solution.

“Stop ripping my undergarments,” you chastise, lifting your leg to make it easier for him. “I’ll have to go shopping at this rate.”

Blade exercises a modicum of decorum and flings the scant fabric aside instead of eviscerating it.

“Quit wearing them.”

“That dream of yours might come true if I have none left. If that happens, I’m stealing your credit card.”

“It’s yours.”

You roll your eyes, focusing on freeing his cock. His length is flushed red and painfully hard. You wrap your hands around the base. Pre-cum leaks from his head in steady streams that flow down, coating him enough that it’s easy to glide your hand up. He hisses out through gritted teeth. Once your hand reaches the top, you rub his smooth tip with the pad of your thumb. The way he leers at you is borderline animalistic. You keep at your task, pumping him up and down.

“Does this count as me subduing you?” You muse, your voice taking a sickeningly sweet cadence, “Should I get handcuffs ready?”

“Watch it, girl.”

You would’ve if he hadn’t teased you so much earlier. But he did, and you must have some compensation. You sink onto the ground. Blade shoots you an inquisitive look, to which you flutter your eyelashes and smile. The realization of your intentions hits him when your lips place an amorous kiss on his leaking tip. The veins running along the length of his cock pulsate from the sight. Such a chaste way of going about a lustful act must do something for him.

“You…” He growls out, clenching his hands into tight fists, “God.”

You suck him gently, swirling your tongue along his slit. Meanwhile, your hand pumps him faster. He thrusts his pelvis forward to force more of his cock into your mouth. He isn’t immediately gratified — no, you take him in at your leisure. His gloved hand entangles itself in your hair and helps guide your head up and down. The wet sound of you sucking him off grows louder from the copious amount of saliva slathered along his cock. You reach for his balls, gently cupping and massaging them. Blade pants above you and throws his head back.

The telltale twitching of his cock starts.

You pull yourself off him. He glares down at you, silently fuming.

You suppress a laugh and climb onto his lap. His hand goes to your shoulder, a sign he intends to push your body down so he can fuck you. Rather than moving aside and complying, you undo your bra’s clasp. His enchantment with your bare tits distracts him enough for your scheme to carry on undetected. You align your entrance with the head of his cock and start sinking down, taking the initiative yourself.

Blade’s large hands fly to either side of your hips from instinct. Inch after inch slides in and stretches you. He maintains unflinching eye contact, the intensity behind his gaze is almost more embarrassing than the act of sex itself. Maybe he’s as pent-up as you are? Whatever the case, the tension in the air begs to be diffused.

“Have I earned your forgiveness?” You ask.

“You’re getting there.”

Your lips part in a silent moan when you fully envelop him. Blade grunts, pulling you down so he can go as deep inside you as possible. His thickness caresses your walls and sets your nerves ablaze. You gyrate your hips in one last little act of revenge. He squeezes your flesh, sending the unspoken warning that you’re truly testing his patience. Thinking it best not to test your luck any further, you rise off him and sink back down.

The legs in your muscles are sore from overexertion but the burden barely falls to you. Blade lifts you off his cock then back down again — you could go completely limp and it wouldn’t make a difference. He must’ve wanted to know you were ready before ruthlessly maneuvering your body for his pleasure.

What a gentleman.

This position has him consistently rubbing against a spot inside you that’s mind-numbing. He fills and stretches you like your body was molded with him in mind. Your gratification isn’t his goal at the moment he’s lost in the pursuit of what you snatched away. He’s greedy because he can be; he’s greedy because you welcome it. You’ve had so much to give and no one to receive it. You aren’t sure how much he’ll take. You’ve decided it’s better to be empty than bursting at the seams with ardor no one can swallow, lest their throat get scorched.

Maybe his premonition is right. Maybe no one will be able to fuck you but him.

So you’ll enjoy it while you can.

The rosy hue on his cheeks, his countenance reflecting the pleasure he derives from your body, the inhuman grip that mars your skin so beautifully; you take everything in. You want it all. You’ll gladly take from him too. You might not like possessive men, but passionate men are a different story. It’s boring if they aren’t a little frenzied.

“Not… going to last long,” he pants out, his voice strained.

Your nipples brush against the fabric of his shirt as you lean in to embrace him, your lips right by his ear.

“Cum in me then,” you whisper, nibbling his earlobe. “Cause I think we both know you love it even more than I do.”

Blade groans out a series of expletives. Some you recognize, some you don’t.

His cock throbs as he empties himself inside you. He thrusts upward in sharp movements, his pelvis hitting yours hard enough to sting. He’s drunk on the high you’ve brought him. Spurts of his cum slide out from your coated walls, an egregious act he remedies by fucking it back into you. By the time he finally stills, you’re both panting, sweat glistening along your bodies. You rest your head on his shoulder to regain yourself. His bandaged hand runs up and down your back, almost soothingly.

In a matter of seconds, his flaccid cock steadily hardens, still snug inside you.

“Who… who’s never satisfied again?” You breathlessly murmur.

His hand finds your clit and lightly brushes over it. You whimper, your walls tightening enough to give you both a jolt of pleasure. The pitch you hit is high enough to stupefy you from mortification. You slap your hand over your mouth, hoping it’ll dissuade any further involuntary infractions. He gingerly grabs your hand and pulls it away.

“Still you,” he says, grazing his lips along the pulse point of your inner wrist.

You don’t get the chance to bite back.

A robotic voice slices through the lustful atmosphere like a scythe.

“Miss Phaeales, incoming call, Miss Phaeales, incoming call,” it intones.

You stifle a groan. “Alright alright, I get that, who is it from?”

“Contact name: Lear.”

Your eyes widen. Though your limbs feel like jelly, you lift yourself off Blade, who doesn’t give much assistance. You mouth the word ‘sorry’ to him, snatch your bra off the floor, and start wobbling over to your desk. After some quick rummaging, you find the device you need.

“Put him through to my in-ears,” you order the virtual assistant.

“[First]? Hello?”

Relief surges through you upon hearing the sound of his voice.

“Lear, it’s been so long since we talked, I started to think you were a figment of my imagination,” you say whilst securing your bra back into place.

“I know, I’m— I’m sorry,” he sounds terribly flustered. You can picture his expression without trying. “It’s just, you’re busy, and then that happened and I—”

“Slow down, I’m only teasing. It’s alright. I get it.”

“Eh… you’re as bad as Nona,” he grumbles. “You just hide it better.”

“Don’t worry, it’s out of my system.”

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll leave it at that,” he’s quiet for a moment, before adding, “You sound like you’re in high spirits, [First]. You don’t know what a relief that is.”

You twirl a pen on your fingers. “I’ve dabbled with the alternative and found it lacking. It does help that some pesky issues have finally been resolved… which reminds me. Your paycheck came through without any issues, correct?”

There’s indistinct murmuring from two voices. Lear’s tone sounds chastising, while the other comes off as petulant.

“Hi Nona,” you greet, to which there’s a faint yet audible ‘Fuck!’ along with rapid footsteps retreating. “How fortunate is it that our paths have crossed like this? I noticed something very interesting. You can’t respond to my texts relating to your studies, but you can like a social media post from a few hours ago?”

Now, rapid footsteps approach.

“I’m taking a break from texting for my mental health,” Nona’s voice reasons.

“... Don’t people normally take a break from social media for that reason?”

“Check the DSM-106. It’s actually a thing.”

“Be that as it may, you’re making good progress. Your scores are consistent enough that you can take a few clients again when we reopen. You need to keep practicing so it stays that way.”

There’s a slight commotion. When it settles, Lear’s the one speaking again. “Sorry, she wanted me to say there’s still an issue with the paycheck coming through.”

In the background, you hear her cry out, “Teacher’s pet!”

“Allow me to once again request that you place aside your bias. Nona, whose birth name is unknown, was born and raised in Arc’s most hostile faction. At the self-reported age of 74, she submitted a request for Thelx citizenship. Your mother, in her benevolence, granted the request due to seeing Nona’s potential as a future Arbiter. Do you deny any of this?”

You quietly take a deep breath.

“... How does Nona seem to you, Lear?”

What should be such a natural question feels like speaking with glue coating your tongue.

“The same as usual. And, no matter what she says, she is studying the notes you sent. She just hates the training program. You were the same way, weren’t you?”

“I was, yes,” A heavy smile finds its way onto your face. “Has anyone been giving her trouble?”

The silence on the other line lasts longer than you’d prefer.

“It hasn’t… been directly at her, per se. There’s just a general atmosphere of unease. Thelx has the highest percentage of citizens integrated from Arc, so things aren’t so bad here. Occasionally, there’ll be a confused kid pointing and asking why her eyes are different, but that’s nothing new.”

The tension in your shoulders relaxes. “Alright, that’s reassuring. Please keep an eye out for her in my stead, okay?”

You refuse to believe Chrysus. Everything with him is a move, some preplanned tactic to achieve a goal that advances his interests. You’ve lived life with Nona; he’s read a few paragraphs about her from a .txt file. There isn’t time to be at war with yourself. If he felt comfortable enough to make an accusation like that, there’s no chance it’ll end there. You’ll need countermeasures set in place.

Countermeasures, countermeasures… there’s Caicias. He loathes ‘secret alliances’ and ‘bloated bureaucracy,’ preferring to keep everything as simple as possible. Depending on your approach, you might be able to sway the former principal. He’s always treated you as an uncle would their niece. While it feels infantilizing now, this soft spot could be an advantage if played correctly.

An in-person meeting would be your best chance.

“Of course,” Lear says, breaking you from your thoughts. Then he’s quiet again. “[First]?”

“Mhm?”

“...”

You hear him sigh.

“It’s nothing. I should let you get back to your work.”

“Hold on, you can’t ‘it’s nothing,’ me!”

A shrill alarm chirps and pierces your unsuspecting ears.

“Oh, shit, Nona set the fire alarm off while cooking again,” Lear sounds more exasperated than worried. “Let’s finish this another time, [First]. I… I promise that I will.”

“Wha— again? How often does this happen?” You demand. “Hello? Hello? Ugh.”

Irate, you tug your in-ears out and toss them on your desk. What could Lear possibly have wanted to discuss? The tone he used made your heart drop. It sounded so firm, so resolute. He’s always been on the more soft-spoken side unless provoked. He did promise that he’d pick it up ‘another time,’ an unintended callous sentencing. Your mind is going to play fill-in-the-blank with the most dreadful words possible until this burden is lifted.

You’re about to return to your office chair when you remember your present condition.

Tousled hair, a hastily put-on bra, a wrinkled skirt, and one of the most sought-after fugitives in the universe’s cum dripping out of you.

Ah. And said fugitive is still behind you.

You spin on your heels. “So, um—”

Blade isn’t anything like when you last saw him. He’s redressed, and composed, his expression a mix between indifference and boredom. He’s returned to his favorite position too. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with one knee slightly bent. Why he favors this stance so much, you’ll never know. You’ve offered him a seat more times than you can count. He comes across as less intimidating when he isn’t at his full height.

He stares at you.

You stare at him.

“I’ll… be getting back to work, I guess?”

He doesn’t so much as nod and he says you’re the pouty one?!

You gather your clothes off the floor for what feels like the umpteenth time, your cheeks burning. It isn’t that you feel ashamed, rather, you think he could at least help instead of standing there like his portrait is getting painted. He’s not trying to hide that he’s watching you. His eyes have always had a physical presence, they weigh on you heavily.

You briefly consider making a snarky comment, but your maturity wins out. You’re above such petty drivel. You finish collecting your garments. Next, you pull up the bra strap that decided to go awol, straighten your skirt, and fuss over your hair. Are you doing this so he knows you’re not embarrassed and in a rush to scamper off like a wounded animal? Maybe. Who could blame you?

You make for your bedroom door, head held high.

Blade speaks your name in that low, dark voice of his, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your body erupts in uncontrollable shivers.

You stiffly turn around like a rusted cog.

“Missed a spot,” is all he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Blade nods to the lower half of your body.

Sure enough, there’s a dribble of his cum caked against your inner left thigh.

…

You hurl your belongings at him, which he catches without so much as batting an eyelash.

Your very short-lived satisfaction dissipates when you recall how much you adore that blouse. The same blouse you just chucked at the immortal sword-wielding Stellaron Hunter who can kill people faster than the afterlife can claim them. He’s still holding it. You get the feeling he will continue to hold it.

“Could I… have… that… back?”

This appeal doesn’t move him in the slightest.

You shift your weight between your legs. “Please?”

“You can,” Blade starts, momentarily filling you with hope, “Come reach for it.”

There is no hope in this universe, you decide. Nihilism is the only plausible option.

Blade dodges all your valiant attempts. When you’re about to give up, he lowers the garment, dangling it in a silent taunt. It then ascends to the heavens the second you dive for it.

He leaves your office that night with a blouse he hadn’t owned hours earlier.

And your cute panties.

Lear

Hello

Lear

Are you awake?

You’ll scold me if I say I am

Lear

Historically, that is true

Lear

You focus on caring for others so much you forget to care for yourself

You make me sound like a better person than I really am I’m just doing my job

Lear

There you go with self-deprecation again…

It isn’t self-deprecation if it’s true >:)c

Lear

That isn’t how that works

Lear

You’ve always been hard on yourself

Lear

I know what you’re going to say so I’ll stop you preemptively

Lear

Anyone could’ve been born in your role and decided not to take it seriously. You didn’t choose the situation but you chose your response to it

Lear

… I swear I didn’t intend for this to become a lecture

I believe you What was your original intention then?

Lear

Our phone call

Lear

Nona decided to try a grilled cheese ‘hack’ she saw on the internet

Lear

She’s lost stove privileges for a week

Is it truly a punishment if she gets to eat your cooking?

Lear

Well

Lear

It’s either that or she starves

Fair point Bring me some leftovers or I’m docking your pay >:)c

Lear

I wish Nona never taught you that face. It brings something primitive out of you

>:)c

Lear

(ง •̀_•́)ง

Oh I forgot about those They’re way better

Lear

Yeah

Lear

ε (*´･ω･) з

Lear

… I got distracted again…

( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴

Lear

Okay okay enough with the emoticons

Lear

I wanted to ask if we could please talk one-on-one

Pick a date and time and I’ll do my best to fit you into my schedule. I make no promises. The current estimated wait list is five Trailblazer Years.

Lear

Do you accept bribes

Naturally. I am a government official.

Lear

I’ll bring you a slice of my galatopita

You’re in

Lear

Actually, I wanted you to pick the time

Lear

I know that person has to be around and I won’t ask about it

Lear

But there is something about him that unsettles me

Lear

Does he ever leave?

He’s always on the LOTUS-EATER’s premises He doesn’t have to be in the room though I can ask him to leave

Lear

You feel comfortable doing that?

Yeah, it’ll be fine

Lear

Even after what happened last time?

You could hit me in the head with a brick and I’d still trust your judgment If you think it’ll be okay I’ll think the same

Lear

(^◇^；)

Lear

What an extreme example

Lear

It’s very you though

I know a backhanded compliment when I see one

Lear

(;° ロ°)

Lear

Hey don’t say that

Lear

[First]? ?????

Lear

… You’re messing with me again, I take it?

>:)c I’ll send you the details

Lear

Thank you

Lear

Want to play a round of Connect Four?

Need you even ask

The break room has changed significantly since you were little. Gone are the sterile, eggshell white walls and beige furniture. The redone interior boasts bold greens and yellows, colors that aren’t commonly seen on Eris. This bright expanse was one of the few suggestions your mother took you up on. You even convinced her to get a terrarium imported that goes through a randomly selected flora’s lifespan in twenty-four hours. A few besmirched it as ‘watching grass grow but slightly sped up,’ until certain flowers got popular. The daisy with petals that burned was a LOTUS-EATER staff favorite. So is the dahlia that spins like a pinwheel.

“Was there something you wanted to ask?”

Lear places his cup of ice water down. “Does it taste alright?”

“It’s delicious,” you hum. “That’s not what I was referring to, though.”

You finish your dessert while Lear mulls over your words. The light, creamy taste of the egg custard, the dash of cinnamon strewn across the browned top; he’d do well if he ever started a dessert business.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask about it, but…” Lear’s sapphire eyes flitter toward the door, the paper-thin barrier dividing you from Blade. “Has everything been alright during this… er…”

“House arrest?”

“That’s a way of putting it,” he sighs. “I know it’s for your safety, but being stuck in this building for weeks on end can’t be good for you.”

“It’s always been this way to an extent. Now it’s just official.”

He grimaces.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

This area utilizes the same technology available in your office or the private rooms. Sound waves cannot travel beyond a set point, or in this case, beyond the breakroom. This safety net allows you to comfortably speak your mind.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t stopped long enough to ask myself that. From my perspective, I have two choices — accept the current situation and carry on, or, get upset and carry on, only with less efficiency.”

Lear struggles to maintain a neutral countenance. It’s why you always beat him at card games.

“... Okay, that sounds a bit bleak. What I’m trying to say is that I can’t dwell on what’s out of my control. I’ll focus on what I can do and work from there.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t brooded at least a little.”

“Ha, I’ve done my fair share of that. I’ve just reduced it from boiling to a nice, tolerable simmer.”

Lear’s grip on his glass tightens. “You’ve matured a lot.”

“Eh? You think so?” You wonder. “If anything, I should’ve been this way to begin with. I had you as the premier example to follow.”

Lear’s smile doesn’t reach his tired eyes.

He inhales sharply. After a moment’s consideration, he comes over, pulls out a chair, and sits facing you. This is the closest you’ve been for a long time. He never wanted you to be afflicted with those visceral headaches, so he maintained his distance. For him to cross the bulwark he painstakingly built cannot be easy.

Slowly, he raises his palm. He stops at the halfway mark between you. You knit your eyebrows. Does he want you to…?

“It might not be a brick, but it’s similar,” Lear says, his voice soft.

His hand is calloused from years of cleaning dishes and tinkering with various contraptions. His fingers tremble, belying the nerves he’s trying to push out of sight. This trepidation isn’t for his sake, it’s for yours. The dire consequences that could be reaped. It’s a gamble where you’re the one forced to go all in.

Your heart pounds and pounds.

You’ll trust him.

You’ve always trusted him.

Lear’s skin is cold yet clammy. His hand overshadows yours, though not by much. They fit together as well as they used to. Unlike then, your touch is more hesitant than his. His fingers sink down and clasp your hand, an action you mirror. Nothing’s happening. Nothing hurts.

You expect a relieved exclamation or expression from Lear, only to receive heavy silence instead.

He squeezes your hand once then pulls away.

“Do you remember the ‘important promise’ you wanted to make when we were kids?”

You nod.

“I did want to make it, actually. I don’t know if I ever mentioned that.”

“It’s been so long, it’s possible I don’t remember, but… I don’t think you ever said that, no.”

“The promise I mentioned was one I made with my mom,” Lear lowers his head. “She made me promise that I’d forgive my father. I never planned on it, not while he was living and breathing at least. I knew that and still… I agreed for her sake. It might seem silly, but that ate at me. She never asked me for anything, and the one time she did, it was something I refused to fulfill.”

You lean forward, hesitate to put your hand on his shoulder, yet ultimately overcome the instinct. “You were just a child, Lear.”

“I know. The reason I’m going into this is that… even when I wasn’t a child, I’d sit there and judge my father. I thought he’d acted cowardly. Instead of acknowledging mom’s declining condition, he’d buy more equipment and supposed miracle cures. He worked nonstop. Mom didn’t want that. She just wanted to be with her family while she could.”

You can hear the lump forming in his throat. You pass him your water, which he gulps down. He gives himself a second and then continues.

“He wasn’t delusional. He knew, and still, he tried so hard to convince himself that he didn’t. There must’ve been some moment of clarity when it hit him,” Lear’s fair eyelashes flutter shut. “What you said to Nona… that was my moment of clarity. My punishment.”

Thoughts swarm through your mind like the Propagation’s reign of terror from eras past.

“‘Punishment?’ Why would you deserve a punishment?” You probe.

Lear doesn’t know how to respond. His lips open and close, words escaping him. What comes out next is interwoven with anguish’s thread.

“Mrs. Phaeales approached me about our relationship. I was so worried, I don’t remember her exact words… it was something along the lines of, ‘If you truly care about her, you need to end this before she gets hurt.’ She wouldn’t go into the specifics. It didn’t come across as a threat, just… a plea, maybe. Eventually, I agreed. It hurt, but I didn’t see any other option. How could I ever willingly do something that’d make you suffer? You, the person who matters to me the most?”

This torrential downpour soaks into your very being.

“It should’ve ended there. I thought it ended there. Then I saw you again, and god. You’re so… so confident, beautiful, and bright; I couldn’t do it. I was at a loss, and… then I had this thought. ‘I want to keep her even if it destroys her.’ I couldn’t shake it. That isn’t love, I-I don’t know what that is.”

“Everyone has thoughts they aren’t proud of.”

“But you didn’t know, because I was too ashamed to tell you,” Lear insists, each word growing quieter. “So instead, you thought you did something to me, right?”

He wouldn’t look you in the eye. His arms remained limp by his side as you unbuttoned his shirt, tense and strained. You pulled back. Something felt terribly wrong. A sharp pang shot through your skull. You ignored it and beseeched him to tell you what was wrong. He wouldn’t. The sharp pang ricocheted. Being close to him hurt. It was as if you were on the same side of a magnet. He repelled you and you couldn’t fight it. You tried to preserve, tried to claw through whatever barrier he’d put up.

… A barrier?

Had he not wanted this? Was the gravity of your desire too intense for an individual who isn’t trained to resist?

“I…” your mouth is dry. “Yes.”

“You didn’t. I knew you didn’t, and like my father, I tried convincing myself otherwise,” he reopens his eyes, revealing a glassy sheen. He wipes it away with his long sleeve. “I ran out of excuses.”

You don’t know how to begin parsing through this information. It undermines the rough understanding you’ve operated on for decades. The foundations haven’t just cracked, they’ve collapsed, and the materials are damaged beyond reuse. Anything you build will require a new blueprint.

“If it isn’t manipulation, what exactly is it?” You murmur, placing a hand on your chin. “You rightfully guessed nothing would happen if we came into contact. What made you think that?”

The direction you’ve chosen to steer this conversation toward surprises him. This must not be the response he braced himself for. Regardless, he’s quick to offer anything he can.

“Something just felt different, I guess? I’m sorry if that isn’t helpful, I can’t think of a better way to describe it.”

Mother must’ve known more than she let on, you think. ‘Before she gets hurt,’ she said. Shouldn’t it have been ‘before Lear gets hurt?’ She cared about him plenty too. So why…?

You pace around the breakroom, your heels clicking throughout the otherwise silent room.

Alister listened when he thought you were taking him to ‘Roze’, a significant other he created in past Synalinks. He tried to kill you after you took him outside and it became evident that wasn’t your intention. No link could be established past that point. Then there’s Blade. You thought you could manipulate him to rescue potential survivors. You were rushed, yes, but you made absolutely no progress.

“My mind has a will of its own,” Blade tells you. “It’s loud. Something about you quiets it down.”

What can psyches roughly be broken down into? Primary, unfiltered instincts; an individual’s rationality, or ability to reason; then their mortality, what lines they will or won’t cross. When properly aligned, the mind operates as a cohesive mechanism. However, if there’s friction, disharmony abounds. The resulting fissure causes strife until it’s plastered back together.

It hits you.

What it is that makes Exalted Arbiters so paramount, why your abilities far surpass others.

You’re a living, breathing conductor, amplifying raw, often questionable instincts. A lightning rod meant to attract the attention of what reason and morality try so valiantly to suppress.

You forgo your pacing and sit back down. “Lear.”

“Y-Yes?”

“All of us are stupid.”

“Eh?”

“Well-meaning and stupid,” you reiterate. “I know what you want from me. You’re not going to get it. You condemned yourself, I condemned myself… what good did that do? Did it change anything? Make it better?”

You shake your head. “We like to torture ourselves; we’re adept at it. Enough. It’s finished.”

“... You don’t need to make me feel better—”

Lear receives a flick on the forehead.

“Idiot, half of that spiel was for me. Maybe three-quarters.”

You grab his hand and give it a hearty squeeze.

He squeezes back.

You both sit there, in this room that’s changed throughout the decades. Where you played make-believe (or, to be more exact, coerced Lear into playing the princess role so you could be the knight), gorged on junk food until you both got sick, plotted how to blow up the IPC with a water gun; you never thought you’d be able to do those things. The dumb, silly things you’d watch in movies or read about in books.

Lear runs the pad of his thumb up and down your hand. “[First].”

“Mhm?”

“Everything you just said — I can tell you believe it.” His breath hitches. “So why… why do you look so sad?”

You force a smile.

“I think I had my moment of clarity,” you tell him. “Like mother, like daughter.”

Whoever coined the term ‘misery loves company’ deserves the 85th spot in the Genius Society.

Blade sits beside you on a sinfully comfortable couch in The Club. His legs are crossed and his arm finds its respite behind you; not touching yet close enough. He’s your perpetual shadow. You steal a glance at his side profile. His jaw’s set and his eyebrows crease inward enough for his otherwise unblemished skin to wrinkle.

“Would you like to talk about your innermost feelings, Mr. 8.13 billion?”

Nothing, not even a halfhearted grunt, which comprises 50% of his vocabulary.

“No? Okay. Let’s focus on mine then,” you motion to the empty bar. “My innermost feelings are telling me to drink until my brain becomes a gray matter slushie. Any recommendations?”

It’s as if you’re trying to communicate with a rock. Which, according to the latest journals published in Geo Elements Organized, might be possible thanks to an artificial intelligence translator who learned how to speak rock. Apparently, pebbles are prone to bigotry. Marble sings operatic arias but each note is flat. These cutting-edge discoveries justify your 10,000 credit monthly subscription no matter what your financial advisor says.

You exaggerate your sigh. “Fine, I’ll pick my own poison.”

“Baijiu,” he eventually says.

“Hm? What’s that?”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot.

“My, my, somebody’s touchy.”

You hop the counter and peruse your establishment’s expansive selection. Hundreds of brands slapped over uniquely shaped bottles line the wall, each displaying information about their inside contents. You squint. What if he just said a random word to get you out of his hair? Your liquor knowledge consists of the basics, you’d be none the wiser if that’s the case.

“Where might I find this— oh, fuck.”

Blade is right beside you in the blink of an eye. Your hand flies to your chest, and while you’re trying to process how someone can move so fast, he finds what must be his intended target. It’s a tall, green bottle with a script you recognize as belonging to the Xianzhou Alliance. How did he ever expect you to find that on your own?

He rummages around and finds little wine-shaped shot glasses. In the meantime, you scan over the various juices and additives available. It’s been rough, but not drinking-alcohol-without-a-fruity-infusion rough. Blade notices your scheming and shakes his head.

“Men are so pretentious about liquor,” you lament.

“You asked.”

“My mistake.”

He ignores you and returns to the couch. You do the same, up until the point where you’re about to sit down. His gaze grows heavier, more concentrated. It took millions of years of evolution to develop complex language and he still chooses to opt out. What a waste. An unofficial staring contest commences. What does he take you for? A mind reader? You technically are, but still, using your abilities for this is beneath you. Especially while you’re in the midst of a crisis that you’d give anything to stop thinking about.

Blade must have a mind-altering epiphany that he has additional motor functions at his disposal. He pats his thigh.

He stares at you.

You stare at him.

You examine your black pencil skirt that stops above your knees. Hopping the counter in this was more of a way to pretend you’re in your early twenties again, not an invitation to test the fabric’s limits. You’ve lost multiple pairs of panties, a nice bra, and a blouse to this bodyguard who took the occupation’s prefix very seriously. This classy skirt isn’t going to be an addition to the clothes necropolis.

“I like this skirt,” you simply state.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

Your vision undergoes an odd change. One moment, you were standing tall and assertive, looking down your nose at him. In the instant that follows, you’re facing the bar, its black marble countertop and gravity adaptive stools coming into focus. What you’re sitting on isn’t a foam cushion that’s as soft as a cloud. It’s rigid and displeases your tailbone. You struggle to balance yourself, an issue that’s solved by Blade’s left arm curving snugly around your waist.

“Did you just—” You cut yourself off, unable to dredge up the energy necessary to get annoyed. He could throw you through the roof for all you care. Sitting you on his lap is forgivable enough. “Whatever, you’re pouring my drink then.”

He’s already in the process of doing so. He pops the lid and fills the specially shaped shot glass with clear liquid. An aromatic fragrance of fruits and spices wafts through the air. It’s a world captured in a bottle; another place you’ll never get to see. You have to settle for admiring pictures and reading firsthand accounts.

Does Blade have an association with the Xianzhou Alliance? It isn’t your place to ask, but you’re curious nonetheless. He’s been a silent spectator of your life for the past few months yet you know nothing about him. It should stay that way — getting involved with him physically is already questionable enough. Especially now that you fully grasp the phenomena that’s been haunting you.

The thought makes you wince.

You lean your head back and down the shot.

It burns as it travels down your throat. You cough, the unexpected strength hitting you with the force of a collapsing star. Maybe you should’ve worked your way up to taking shots. It’s too late to rectify the mistake, your hubris is irreversible. The bastard chuckles at your suffering. It’s the briefest chuckle you’ve ever heard, but it still counts.

“What is the— what is the alcohol content of that?” You rasp out.

“Eighty.”

You crane your neck to glare at him. “If you wanted to kill me, the sword would’ve been faster.”

He rolls his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at you. He picks you up, sticks a little ribbon on your head, and delivers you to death’s doorstep only to disregard your valid concerns? The 8.13 billion bounty isn’t enough. They need to double it.

“I’d like to see you drink this. Considering your prehistoric age, it might short-circuit your cardiovascular system.”

Blade pilfers your empty shot glass. He refills it, swallows without any fanfare, and then resumes his staring regimen.

You don’t know if you should be impressed or offended that his tolerance is better than yours.

Ultimately, your competitive nature wins out. You manage two more shots before waving the white flag. The flavor itself isn’t that bad once you get past the initial shock, it’s slightly fruity. The alcohol taste packs a punch though. A version with a lower ABV would suit you better.

You sigh, lean into his chest, and try in vain to smooth out your bunched-up skirt.

Your inebriated daze hits fast. There’s no pleasant buzz accompanying it, only exhaustion. The kind that makes the prospect of sleeping for a few years tempting. Those cryogenic pod ads know how to sell their product. It speaks volumes how simple their marketing remains since they’re so high in demand.

You inspect your soulless business. There aren’t any clients traveling to and fro, well-dressed ladies having their fur coats removed by valets, or businessmen celebrating a deal by clinking their glasses together. It’s eerily quiet. There’s nothing but the sound of your slow breathing and the thrum of the oxygen generator.

This planet’s heart remains frozen with you at the epicenter.

“What’s it like to travel across the universe?” You ask.

“It’s just work.”

Just work. You’ve received variations of this response when you’ve used this question on clients. They’ll take your silence as a signal to prattle, complaining about jet lag, getting through customs, finding a hotel that isn’t ridiculously overpriced during busy seasons; on and on they’d go. You’d sit across from them, smiling and nodding along, verbally empathizing with their plight. If they went on too long, you’d temporarily excuse yourself before your agitation spewed forth.

“That’s it?” You murmur.

He’s silent.

You kick your heels off, lay your legs across his lap and the couch, then sling your right arm around his shoulders to hold yourself in place. He observes you with no discernible emotion as you make yourself comfortable.

“Tell me about it,” you implore. “The universe. Please.”

Blade considers your request. You take it as a good sign he hasn’t shut you down immediately. For once, you don’t needle him. You just sit there with high hopes and a pleading expression. A peculiar emotion surges around him. It whispers to you, requesting that you lean in and hear it better. You deny the impulse and swat it away.

This mental exertion almost causes you to miss his frown and pinched-together eyebrows.

It’s fleeting, but there’s no misinterpreting what you saw.

Have you ever seen Blade’s face reveal so much?

It’s a vault he doesn’t leave open long. The doors seal shut before you can catalog the contents inside.

“Nothing I’ve seen is worth telling.”

You part your lips yet no sound comes out. You retract your arms from him and lay on your back, resting your forearm against your head. The LOTUS-EATER’s dark ceiling becomes your latest intrigue. It’s a cool shade of gray, mimicking the joyless sky that hovers outside like a specter deadset on haunting the living. You hate it. Everything’s gray, bland, depressing, an insult to the vibrancy that accompanies sentient beings.

You close your eyes and all goes silent.

After a while, his deep voice rumbles, “Do you want to see it?”

“Hm?”

“The universe,” he clarifies.

“Oh. Of course. But…” you pause, noticing how draining an endeavor it is to string together a coherent thought, “If I could, I wouldn’t. Too much… there’s too much I hafta do… here.”

There’s Nona. You want to help her reach her full potential, she’s brimming with it, a never-ending source of energy and zeal. Then there’s Lear. Why he idolizes you to such a degree, you’ll never understand. He should turn that starry-eyed gaze inward. It’s ironic — he considers you confident, yet you’ve always shied away from ever revealing the fathomless depths of your care.

You were born to be an object and he made you a person.

How can you ever repay a debt like that? Why is it so awkward and awful to express anything you feel without theatrics accompanying them? You have to tell him. You know he loves you, and while the love you hold for him is different, does he know that? How could he, if you’ve been so hesitant to say those three harrowing words?

Man, you think. My head’s killing me.

“Tired?”

After you grumble in the affirmative, he lifts you up. You think you might be floating. Your head lulls to the side and comes into contact with something solid, which proves you aren’t. Gravity hasn’t quit its longstanding tenure. Your blurred journey begins when you’re laid down in a spot more cozy than the couch cushions. It feels familiar and safe. Tension melts from your body, slinking off to loan you a brief solace. The interest is set high, but you’re too blissfully content to care.

That night, you dream of an ocean dutifully guarded by the sun.

The waves rise and fall along the shoreline, the breeze carries the scent of saltwater, and aquatic birds caw from above.

Bright white sand is plentiful beneath your bare feet. It tickles your toes and tricks you into thinking you’ll sink with every tentative step.

As you walk along this esplanade, an object hidden amongst the sand jabs into your sole.

Blood pools from the wound, trickles down a steep slope, and infects the ocean.

The scarlet droplet corrupts and warps it, devouring any color it comes into contact with. It's insatiable, a bloody blight that proliferates until the sea is swallowed whole.

The moon eclipses a dying sun. Driven by vanity, it paints its likeness across red, shimmering waves.

Unknown

I have good news

Unknown

I’ll be recalling Bladie soon

Unknown

I located the party responsible for endangering your life

Unknown

Isn’t that great?

If you’re being honest, then yes

Unknown

Am I not renowned for my honesty?

Unknown

No harm will befall you, so rest easy

Unknown

I hope we can continue our mutually beneficial partnership ♡

If there’s anything your mother’s passing has taught you, it’s that time isn’t guaranteed.

You thought you’d have a lifetime to see eye to eye with her. Over centuries, the layers you cultivated would peel back. You’d then ask her the questions that have lingered on the tip of your tongue.

Did you want to have me, or was it out of obligation?

Is this the way you want to live?

Am I a daughter or a burden?

You don’t know what scared you more. The idea of asking her, or what the answers might be.

None of your blood relations are living, but you still have a family. You refuse to treat something as fickle as time lightly again. Nona’s past, Lear’s present, your future; you can only dance around it for so long. The tempo will inevitably speed up beyond what you can follow. Lear’s confession reaffirmed how dangerous this complacency is. By believing you’re sparing one another pain, you’re only sparing yourself.

Your tea’s gone cold. The remnants swirl down the basin’s drain.

The true nature of your abilities, the shackles it puts you in, you’ll tell them everything.

You shoot them a text, asking them to meet you tonight at the LOTUS-EATER. You then set your phone to Do Not Disturb and place it aside.

Blade won’t be on Eris much longer. Your chances to help him are limited and you still haven’t fulfilled your promise.

You’d like to try and remedy that.

“I may have been a bit prickly when we first met, but I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for all you’ve done. I’m sure you just consider this a job, which is just as well, still, I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. I don’t even want to imagine what would become of this planet in my absence. So please give me one last opportunity to deter your mara.”

Blade gives you a long, hard look.

“You’re talking like that again?”

“I’m trying to be professional.”

He walks over and leers down at you. You return his blank stare unabashedly. Eventually, he readjusts the collar of your ivory blouse.

“What was that for?” You ask.

“I saw something that isn’t very professional.”

Glancing down, you pull the fabric back, revealing a prominent hickey. Your face ignites and you frantically cover it.

You clear your throat. “Is it a contractual obligation for you Stellaron Hunters to get on my nerves?”

The glint in his eye makes you nervous.

“Actually, do me a favor and don’t answer that. Just tell me if you’re interested or not, I’m a busy woman.”

He thinks it over and nods.

Throughout the preparation and rites, you consider what you’ve learned. Individuals exposed to you become more willing to act or dwell on their subconscious desires. The exact metrics aren’t clear, but you can safely assume this effect amplifies the longer they’re around you. These desires have a wide range. It can be as innocent as causing an older brother who ran away from his grief to finally cry over his deceased sister, or fuel for justifying selfish actions.

Blade’s case feels different.

Unprecedented as the other examples are, you can understand them somewhat. If a person acts on their most innate wishes, their behavior will change accordingly. However, what you’re causing here extends beyond psychological — it’s physiological too. Is that even possible? What could he possibly want enough to alter the fabric of his very being?

If you can find out, maybe the revelation will help him.

And so you close your eyes.

“To dream is a sacred thing. Don’t fear it. Welcome it, rejoice in it, and shed no tears when it is finished. We’ve been granted your purest blessing. As you slumber, we find rest in you. Allow us the sweetest of dreams.”

…

Blade’s psyche has changed.

The grayscale composition is gone. Vitality has been crowned the new ruler, overthrowing the morose atmosphere in a successful rebellion. This change brings no alleviation to the undercurrents of grief that hang heavy in the air. Instead, it feels more erratic, like a heart beating wildly after waking from a coma.

The Shackling Prison stands beyond a straight path as if it's been waiting for you.

The first time you entered his mind, it rejected you. Now, it’s pulling you in, its gravity far-reaching.

You hesitate to proceed.

Is it his mara that’s responsible for this? You won’t be able to tell unless you keep going.

The invisible force that expelled you nudges you from behind.

You recall when Blade first appeared before you. Your physical eyes showed you a man while every other sense warned he was a beast. A carnivore that would devour anything, predator or prey alike. You believed it then and you believe it now. His condition has condemned him. Where he walks, destruction follows. It’d make sense for you to abandon him to fate’s whims.

This excruciating hunger digests him too. It’s destined to eat him alive while postponing merciful death.

Fate can be cruel, but you have an opportunity to be kind.

You make your way to the Shackling Prison’s gates.

The seal that’s served as a hindrance halts you. You examine the once bold obstruction. It has faded, its strength depleted, held together by nothing. At its peak, you think it would have pushed you out instantly. Now, as your incorporeal hand presses against it, there’s little it can do. The most it can muster is the resilience to delay you a few more seconds.

After that, it shatters and fades like weeping stardust.

A prismatic shard forms from its ashes, coalescing into a blurred, moving image. Distorted sounds crackle from it, which you soon recognize as garbled speech. The noise becomes clearer. You hear a low thrum in the background. Its timbre matches the oxygen generator standard in Eris’ buildings.

This must be one of Blade’s memories.

“I know you’re impatient, but play nice a while longer,” a saccharine voice hums. “She’ll be here any minute now.”

That voice…

The image sharpens and unveils a grand screen plastered against a wall. It sections off into numerous squares, each dedicated to displaying financial data. It’s bright, obnoxiously so, attesting to the owner’s tacky taste.

Chrysus’ office?

A door creaks. Hastened footsteps approach, ringing throughout the brightly lit room. The pair of eyes you’re viewing this memory from — Blade’s — shift to locate the source. The color they arrive at is familiar. It’s the same shade you see upon viewing your reflection, although the shape differs.

Mom? You wonder, astonishment hitting like pelting hail. What was she doing, meeting with a Stellaron Hunter in Chrysus’ office of all places…?

“Your message surprised me, Exalted Arbiter. Getting you to agree to a face-to-face meeting is normally like pulling a tooth. What’s the occasion?” The honeyed voice, which can only belong to Kafka, greets.

“Don’t play coy with me,” your mother replies. While her words are sharp, they aren’t warped with emotion. This is the demeanor she assumed when conducting business. Her sagacity is a trait you’ve never been able to fully emulate. “That thing’s leaving baubles on my daughter’s balcony. How many times have I told you to tighten your dog’s leash?”

“Oh? I thought I had.”

Your mother smiles thinly. “Should I add incompetent leadership to your list of defects? Deals are meant to be followed. Otherwise, why make them at all?”

“We draw lines to test them. So long as they aren’t crossed, there’s no harm.”

“Spare me your casuistry. I don’t want that thing anywhere near her.”

Your head feels like it’s being stretched in multiple directions at once. This sequence unfolding before you has a dizzying effect. Why is your mother so outwardly hostile to Kafka? The Stellaron Hunter isn’t your favorite person either, but this transcends simple dislike. It’s personal, raw. She’s maneuvered through diatribes that’d make anyone else go red in the face, her poise unruffled. Kafka’s little provocations pale in comparison.

Not to your mother, though. She’s a thinning thread close to snapping.

“As per our original agreement, there’s no harm as long as she doesn’t notice him,” Kafka dismisses. She leisurely sits on Chrysus’ desk, not bothering to move his papers aside. She then crosses her legs and smiles. Her eyes emit an unnatural glow. “On the topic of testing lines… let’s not pretend you’re innocent either.”

Your mother doesn’t so much as flinch. “If you’re going to make accusations, at least have the confidence to be forthright.”

“You’re fascinating to deal with, Exalted Arbiter,” Kafka croons. “This is why I look forward to our chats. You don’t cower or plead for mercy like our friend outside did. It’s a welcome change.”

“I’d rather you don’t compare me to Ophídion.”

Kafka drums her fingers against the table’s surface. For such a simple sound, it’s deeply grating. “Forgive me in advance, then, because I intend to one more time.”

Your mother remains silent, her lips taut.

“Still not afraid, hm? Let’s see if we can change that,” Kafka’s smile widens, which crinkles the skin beneath her eyes. “Chrysus’ shipments of ichor are exact, down to the milliliter. Always delivered on time as well. Comparatively, your end of the bargain is far simpler. You just have to grant Bladie ready access to Miss Phaeales’ vicinity. But, I heard something regrettable through the grapevine.”

Your mother’s eye twitches.

“You’ve been shopping around for a way to sneak [First] off Eris, correct? Tsk, tsk.”

All falls silent save for the generator’s dedicated hum.

Your mother stands unflinching, folding her hands in front of her. The two openly scrutinize each other. Calculating, strategizing. Her posture betrays nothing. There’s no guilt or apprehension, making it impossible for you to determine the credibility of Kafka’s words.

“It’s fear you devils can’t experience, correct?” Your mother queries. “Here’s a suggestion — try having a daughter yourself. You praise me for not caving to intimidation; that’s because I’ve experienced far worse. From their conception to our death, fear is the only thing we mothers know. Fear that they won’t become like us, or, even worse, that they will. What a funny juncture we occupy.”

Mom’s voice doesn’t sound right. It’s so… forlorn.

You don’t want to keep watching.

You can’t pull yourself away — the memory’s weight is heavy enough to pull you back in.

“Is that maternal dedication enough to condemn an entire planet?” Kafka ponders. “I’m not a judge who is eager to sentence. I’ve been lenient with you and would love to keep it that way. Leave Miss Phaeales in my care, no harm will befall her.”

For the first time since entering the room, your mother acknowledges Blade’s existence. Her eyes turn to slits as she scowls at him. Disgust, reprehension, and wrath; it converges in a maelstrom that could sink fleets of ships. You hone in on the emotions Blade experienced at that instant. There’s nothing. It’s hollow, save for blots of mild impatience.

“It wouldn’t be your care, it’d be his.”

Your soul convulses.

“Is that so terrible?” Kafka hums. “Separated, they’re essentially cursed, the poor things. They complement each other well, the more you think about it. One who incites madness and another who has the means to resist it. You of all people should understand that, hm? Or is Mr. Phaeales available to voice his dissent?”

Dad?

Darkness passes over her countenance.

You don’t understand and you’re afraid to. Kafka freely tosses around the most taboo topics as if twirling a poisoned dagger on her fingers.

One who incites madness. Is that what you are? A catastrophe patiently waiting for its chance? That can’t always be the case, but, more often than not, what a person covets most should never be fully realized. There’s a reason the sensible and moral components of one’s psyche stuff this risk down as deep as it’ll go. If everyone did what they wanted, whenever they wanted, civilization itself would cease to exist.

As for Blade’s role in this… Kafka must know whatever he wants would have a value that outweighs the potential drawbacks.

“I won’t let her be reduced to a retractable leash for your attack dog,” she seethes. “Let your Cancer of All Worlds do what it will. My decision is final.”

Electricity crackles in the air.

“It’s this script, then,” Kafka murmurs, more to herself than anything. “So many diverging paths, so many possibilities. To think that out of all futures you’d get to pick out specially for [First]...”

Kafka motions toward Blade, who readies his weapon.

“You chose one of the worst ones.”

some misc author notes for this one:

regarding the reader's condition, i didn't want to include a sigmund freud jumpscare in the story itself, so it gets to be down here instead. for those unfamiliar with his theories, what reader is referring to here:

'What can psyches roughly be broken down into? Primary, unfiltered instincts; an individual’s rationality, or ability to reason; then their mortality, what lines they will or won’t cross. When properly aligned, the mind operates as a cohesive mechanism. However, if there’s friction, disharmony abounds. The resulting fissure causes strife until it’s plastered back together.'

is a more abstract version of freud's concept of the id, ego, and superego respectively. originally, i used this exact terminology, but something about it just felt very immersion breaking to me 😭 all i could do was think about mr freud floating about in the honkai universe. consequently, the unreliable narration of reader trying to understand her condition + not using the widely known terminology made me worry it'd be a bit confusing...

so, in freudian terms, being continually exposed to reader's presence causes an individual's id to dominate their thoughts/actions instead of their ego and superego.

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #not sfw #nexus #my stuff

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