#I know it technically WAS tailored for me in that the idea was based off of my post but

[piratesmyass]

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod

IT'S PERFECT. It's like it was literally tailored for me specifically, with Izzy and Frenchie being besties AND it's hurt/comfort AND it's fluff AND Stede has two hands AND it's written so beautifully, I'M IN LOVE❤️😭

Thank you so much<3333

might i but moor - tonight - in thee

Rated: T Word Count: 1,592 Chapters: 1/6 Pairing: Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands

Summary:

“You said it yourself, Izzy,” Stede said while he tugged his boot on. “Captain’s got to know the conditions aboard the ship.” “And that includes the sleeping conditions, aye?” Izzy asked. The wood he whittled felt smooth in his hand, the knife handle worn and rough. “Sure. Why not.” “Giving up your comfy bed in your private room to sleep above deck —” “You can sleep in my bed, then, since you’re so concerned.” Izzy snorted, applied too much pressure on his next push stroke. “Bonnet, I’ve gone years without sleeping on a fucking mattress. If I start now, my body’ll fucking kill me.” Stede shrugged and got up from the captain’s chair. “Suit yourself.”

inspired by this post by @piratesmyass. thanks for letting me write your idea, dude, hope this is enjoyable !!

[definetelynotavampire]

Oooh sorry if you've already shared them but I'd love to hear some Nikolai headcannons you have!

My Nikolai theories/ headcanons

I have been waiting for someone to ask me about this :D

(also spoilers for Gogol's "The Overcoat")

1. Born with an Overcoat

In his speech about true freedom he goes on about wanting to „fly like a bird“ and to „not be bound by gravity“. I know he also meant this in a mental/ emotion-bases sense but it got me thinking... is he stupid? His ability is tailor cut for this? By all means, he should be able to fly.

His ability can manipulate space and by extension also gravity (to some extend), thats basic physics. He even uses this to save Sigma when he fell off the sky casino – Nikolai reduced the gravitational force on Sigma by manipulating space.

This got me thinking - Couldn’t he technically fly if he adjusted his portals, so that one is on the ground and the other is in the sky/ under his feet?

Well, why hasn’t he done this? - Because his ability is limited by his Overcoat.

Which is strange, why is his ability affected by something external? Is he lying? Is this a mental thing? Can it be any Overcoat or just his cape? If it’s really a necessary part of his ability, then either it’s not his own and someone else made this restriction for him or his Overcoat is part of him - he was born with an Overcoat . Personally, I think it’s both.

At this point I decided to look up the source material, and by that I mean I read the wikipedia article about „The Overcoat“...

The main character Akaky is described as „being born in undress uniform“ and that basically, since the day he was born, his future was already decided. This obviously plays into bsd’s Nikolai's arc of freedom/ not following a predictaple path. But still it’s a funny simile.

Like I said, my theory is that he was both given the ability and that he was born with it. This seems like an obvious contadiction unless you say Nikolai is, like Sigma, a product of the book.

In conclusion i think that the Overcoat/ his ability is both his freedom and also the very thing he has to ‚overcome‘ in a sense.

2. Nikolai is self aware

This is kinda like a continuation from the first theory. I think it would make so much sense for his character, that he knows he has a set role in the story, especially when you look at his desire for true freedom. Maybe I just like the tragic irony, that no matter what, he can never get to that point.

Anyways, if we assume he’s self aware, his actions and idea of sanity is much more interesting. What would you do if you know your actions and emotions are pre-written? I have no idea, but whatever Nikolai has going on seems like a pretty valid reaction to me.

Also what does the conversation with Fyodor mean then? Is the book a God symbol? Why does Fyodor know? Is he older than the book? Is he affected by it?

2.1 This is a bit silly and I’ve talked about this before. Nikolai teleports his right eye to observe everything like a movie. Where he himself is, again a character. This fits well within the theme of his depersonalisation.

3. His Freedom in the context of „The Overcoat“

The obvious comparison is, of cause, „Nikolais obsession and desire for freedom“ and Akakys’ obsession with the Overcoat that he wants. Further than that i have honestly no idea. Akakys irony is that, after he gets the overcoat, it is taken from him immediately and he dies but I’m not sure how that could translate. What i mean by that is, i don’t want it to because i want Nikolai to get a good ending. Which would probably mean an ending that he chooses for himself. Okay thats basically also not very good… well shit... ._ .

4. The silly headcanons

4.1 Nikolai has no idea what an overcoat is, that’s why he wears a cape and calls it his Overcoat

4.2 Nikolai and Ranpo are brothers, i have no reason for this besides it’s funny and i like them both.

4.3 Nikolai does not know how to use public transport because he always teleports everywhere

4.4 He has a disney princess hair care routine (for obvious reasons)

4.5 He has very normal hobbies

5. The "Is it really silly tho?" headcanon (yes it is)

5.1 „We all came out from Gogol’s Overcoat“ - a quote by someone, idk by who

Nikolai is, or will be the author of the book. Idk how or when, but at one point he makes a decision about abilities or ability useres and it affects everyone. Maybe that could be his moment of freedom, because it would be a paradox if that decision wasn’t truely made by him. And then it’s something like he burns the book so abilities and everyone created from the book is gone. I can see that happen.

okay these are just the things i could think of rn, there are probably more ._ .

[auxiliarydetective]

And now... the second big event! My drawing program says this took me only 12 hours instead of 17 but that's not counting the whole day I spent researching and the hour-long rambles in the Discord server that got me to place 6 on the leaderboard.

Introducing...

Sanctitas Livia! Former Crown Princess of the Bellona Empire!

If you know me, you know I love Antiquity so much that I go to university for it, so eventually, I had to create an OC that was very Roman. Aurelia was the warmup, but Livia is really the most Roman OC I have ever created. And of course she's also a One Piece OC.

Look at that glorious lorica segmentata! The shin guards, the caligae, the lorica manica, the layers beneath that you can't even see!

Join me below the cut for a journey through the drawing progress and into artistic madness.

Alrighty, here we go.

Time for rambles

But we're doing it a little differently this time. Instead of me just telling you my thoughts, I'll take you on the journey I went on to finish this piece and explain my thoughts along the way.

Day 1 - The Research

I really don't have a lot to say here, I just did a lot of research. One of the sources that helped the most for this was this YouTube video here which explains the lorica segmentata (aka your stereotypical legionary armor) in detail and this one where a historian (I believe) messes with talks to a bunch of re-enactors.

At the end of the day, I ended up with this:

The reference images on the left are ones I googled and sadly didn't keep the sources for. The base is this one by Bases-Xs (that I would later edit and slightly frankendoll) and the images on the right are made with HeroForge and the Tiefling Maker, my most beloved picrew.

You can see that, on the left, I've got references for a centurion helmet - yes, centurions had those kinds of headdresses, the ones you usually see are incorrect - the lorica segmentata, various versions of the lorica manica (aka that arm brace thingy) and the complete legionary fit.

With this as a base to work with, I went to bed. The next day would be my birthday and I had invited a fellow historian and artist over to bounce ideas off of because I was dreading how to make the lorica segmentata, which is very square in shape, work on a female body with curves.

But that was an issue for another day.

Day 2 - Fortuna Minervaque me adiuvent.

That Latin sentence means "May Fortuna and Minerva help me" and it's exactly what this day's motto would turn out to be. My historian friend got sick and couldn't come, so I was left to face the armor issue on my own.

And so it begins.

As you can see, I started the drawing process with my sanity fully intact. I didn't just want wings glued to the head, I wanted feathered ears! Kinda like elf ears, pointing upwards, but like if elf ears if they grew feathers, y'know. Eventually, I figured it out.

So, I had one ear. The second one took some experimenting, but I did it. Then, I needed to capture Livia's essence.

Perfect.

A little snack for dinner later...

That little braid was more complicated to draw than you would think. You see, the feathered ears and braid - and face markings that you'll see later - are very important to Livia's species, an original species that I put into the world of One Piece. They don't have a name yet but I'm having a blast with them. Maybe I'll make a post about them one day.

One little crisis and about an hour later, we had a tunic and our first deviation from historical accuracy.

Well, technically, the first deviation would've been the feathered ears and giving this armor to a woman but... y'know.

The thing about the Roman tunica is that it was very wide, in fact it was almost as wide as it was long. All that excess fabric would pile up under the armor and at the armpits - and I didn't want that for Livia. So I decided to give her more tailored sleeves and to tie the tunica beneath the bust and at the waist instead of at the hip and give it less volume in general to avoid the fabric piling up.

You can also see a sneaky new reference at the bottom right there. It's a screenshot from the first video I linked above and would be vital for helping me figure out the armor issue.

What you can see here is a thick scarf around the neck to avoid the armor plates cutting into your throat as well as some generous padding. Like they say in the video, this padding is more experimental history since none of this sort of padding has been preserved. Logically, since organic materials don't usually last as long as, for example, metal does. But padding would be really practical if you're wearing armor since armor is heavy and you don't really want it cutting into you. Your tunic won't do much to protect you there. Also, it smooths out the curves, which is very practical for this very specific situation we're dealing with there.

However, I was still ecstatic about having to figure out the armor.

See, the lorica segmentata is a genius piece of equipment, but it's really only genius for men since it's optimal for a square body type. I had to figure out a way to make it work for Livia without creating critical weak spots and without inviting people to stab her in the boobs.

Generally, having boobs isn't very optimal for armor. You have to find a way to make the armor fit around them, still leave a bit of breathing room, and for goodness' sake don't make boob plates because those are horrible in case of an impact. You generally want a shape that deflects blows and, additionally, I had to deal with the layering of the lorica segmentata without creating a gap where someone could stab her in the tits.

Eventually, I came up with this:

This design is based off the Corbridge A type lorica segmentata, the same one shown in the video that I got the screenshots from. Generally, this type of armor consists of four parts - the two shoulder parts and the two torso parts. You wouldn't usually be able to take it apart like this since those top two plates here would belong to the shoulder parts and would actually be the ones where you link the shoulders to the torso. You can see the hook and eyes just above the bust.

Once you have your two halves - the shoulder and torso pieced together for both left and right - you'd lace them together and buckle them up at the top - which I also drew in here. As you can see, I stopped the armor above the belly button so that Livia would still be able to bend. The two bottom plates also aren't laced, which is something that I copied directly from the authentic historical armor and I assume is for ease of movement while bending and turning.

And this was where I left it for the day. I was exhausted, I had lost all of my braincells on the way, but damn was I proud.

Day 3 - Perserverance is a virtue, right?

Clearly, the events of the last day were still affecting me since I forgot to have breakfast that morning. So, I "fixed it" with an early lunch and got right back to it.

As you can see, I had lots of fun, or rather my drawing program did. The reason why I kept adding more reference images is because the shoulder pieces are actually a lot more complicated than just "Haha lace iron halfpipes together". I had to really get a feel for how they worked before I could get around to drawing them, and the ever-important video came in clutch.

As you can see, there's hinges on the two inner shoulder pieces. There are also hinges at the back, so the two innermost shoulder pieces are actually three plates each. This is for maximum ease of movement. You'd think that this kind of armor would be restrictive, but you can actually raise your arms pretty high with this. Makes sense since the legionaries still had to throw their pila/javelins and fight. You can also see a weak point of the armor here - look at how open those shoulders are! You're not stabbing into flesh when you stab in there, but it's definitely a weak point because you could easily slide between the plates here.

Next in line was the lorica manica aka the arm brace.

This one wasn't really difficult in construction, it just took a lot of perserverance and energy to draw all those little plates. If you remember, I had two references for the lorica manica, one where the foremost plates were on the bottom and one where they were on top. I decided to go for the latter version because the former is just stupid. Go back to look at that reference and tell me you couldn't jsut easily shove a sword in there! So, lower plates on top to leave no room for the sword to go in-between. Also smaller plates for better bending and coverage, and of course they're laced.

You can hardly see it but there's also lacing at the top. The way I imagine it, though I don't know for sure, is that the arm piece would probably be attached to the leather straps holding the shoulder pieces together. That way it stays in place and won't fall off.

And if you're wondering why she only wears one arm brace - the other arm gets a big-ass shield.

Then I got myself some references for the sandals aka caligae, cooked up some shin guards (which would only be worn by officers), added the belt, and...

Yeah, the lineart was done. Here's the bigger image so you can see the insane state of my references:

At this point, I was tired and everything hurt. So, I decided to call it quits for the day.

I wish I could say that this is day 4 but then this happened:

Yeah, I got back to my tablet, fixed some wonky lines and...

I actually finished it. So yeah. Time for some design details.

I forgot her piercings in the lineart so I added them in

Fancy face markings <3

Whether Roman soldiers' tunics were red is actually something I put a lot of research into. It's a common myth and it has some footing but in the end it's not really likely that they were that uniform. Still, I kept the red because Livia is a (former) crown princess and the crown prince/princess's signature color is red

The armor would historically been made of iron but Livia's would most likely be a special kind of steel. The hinges, decorations on her belt, and shin guards are made of brass.

The laurel wreath is part of Livia's personal emblem as well as her empire's crest.

I kinda love how the circular engraving under the first decorative piece on the middle of the shin guard looks like a bird staring at you. It was an accident but I kept it <3

Very important! Foot wraps under the sandals so you don't get blisters.

So yeah, that's it <3

Stay tuned for a special little treat tomorrow

Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @bravelittleflower @box-of-bats - let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

One Piece Taglist: @supermarine-silvally

[quinloki]

OKAY ANOTHER FUN THOUGHT

sabo/marco borrowing your 'romance' books bc they need something to read in between more technical material

and what better way to find out what you like than to figure out what books you reread often bc surely there's something in there that tickles your brain

and then it's just like oh hey let's try this and you're like ???? bc you didn't know they borrowed the book

or they try it on the 'holiday' totally just pull something out of nowhere like impact play or knifeplay and you're like wait this is hot but how did you know

or sneaking up behind you bc they both seem like sneaky mfs while you're really engrossed in a particular part and watching you for a bit before whispering in your ear that they can make it a reality (tbh I don't really read romance books but fics don't work in this context I feel so >>)

ya know I'm down this rabbit hole again of thinking about them and I'm like not mad about it but I feel like this is really raising Sabo up the ranks in my head substantially

Oh it works with fics. You can have a reading tablet and leave it open while you go to do something and Sabo just walks by and is like "Huh?" and realizes you have an Ao3 account (or whatever) and is like "Oh???"

He doesn't even have to do much except know your ID, and he can see what you've got bookmarked. Maybe once he realizes it though he checks out your history, or sees if you've written anything. Now he has ideas. Marco might scold him, Sabo swears to come clean with you, but the idea that they could tailor-make a surprise for you based off what you're reading is too good to pass up.

And if you only like something as a fantasy, you have the words to stop them.

Once the cat's out of the proverbial bag then it opens up more options for them. You're talking about what you're reading, and maybe even sharing things more directly with them, etc.

One Holiday they decide to do like a Romance Trope Melody - and they just keep doing all sorts of really dorky - but wildly fantastic drops. You get the kabedon, or however it's spelled. They made grand gestures of asking you to dance, there's homemade chocolates (thank you Thatch for helping them beforehand). There's a kissing contest and you have to decide whose kiss was better.

xD

Oh man, a Monster Fucker Holiday - gods save me...

[therealraeweber]

Hey Tumblr! It's been a hot minute, but I wanted to hop on today and share a project I just finished for my digital media class!

Keep reading to see my process of making this dagger!

Our assignment was super open ended, with the prompt just being "Make a project that involves Blender in some way", so I thought doing something mixed media would be a lot of fun. I'm on a mission this semester to start making art for classes that I WANT TO MAKE, and not just tailor to what I think will get me a good grade and what my profs would like. Honestly, could make a whole post about that mission as it is actually more challenging than I had anticipated, but I digress.

For my dagger, I started by making a quick sketch in Procreate to get an idea of what I wanted my model to look like. I got some inspo off of Pinterest, but tired to make the design my own, and something I could feasibly make.

Since I was making this project for a digital media class, and the assignment was supposed to revolve around using Blender, I made a base 3D model for the dagger, which I would then send off to get printed.

I originally tried to model the vines and leaves in Blender, but I had a really hard time with it, since I am still re-learning how to use Blender (haven't used it since high school). So I decided to make it a mixed media project, since the prof said this assignment was very open ended. Plus, doing mixed media would give me a chance to try out foam clay, which I've been wanting to experiment with for a while.

I then sent my 3D model off to my good friend David, who 3D printed it for me. He was even kind enough to send me a time lapse of it printing!

After printing, David also assembled the base for me, but I put glue in all the seams, followed by filler once that dried, and sanded the whole thing down. It definitely could have used more sanding since you can still see print lines in some places, but I was on a strict time crunch to get this assignment in on time.

Then I went in with my foam clay and started adding the leaves and vines on the handle, as well as the leaf details on the cross-guard. I had never used foam clay before (I know... what kind of cosplayer am I?), but I really enjoyed working with it. I had a bit of a hard time getting it to stick to the plastic, but I found that wetting it and then letting it get a bit tacky really helped with that.

The foam clay I bought was from Michaels, and was technically labeled "Modelling Foam", so I have no idea how it compares to the nice foam clay that most cosplayers use. I would have ordered that, but I decided to do the modelling by hand rather last minute, so I needed to buy what was available in store. Overall I enjoyed working with it, but I would still be interested to try the real stuff some time (assuming it's actually different from this).

After letting the foam clay dry overnight, I started painting it. I primed everything with a silver spray primer, then went over just the blade, pommel, and cross-guard with a more metallic silver spray paint. Thankfully, I had enough paint and primer left over from the two angel blades I made in the summer, so I didn't need to buy more paint for this project. I then painted the handle by hand, which was one of the most tedious paint processes I've ever done, but I'm quite happy with the results.

Last up was some clear coat, as I didn't want to risk any of the paint chipping off. I'm also hoping the clear coat will help seal the foam a bit, as I have no idea how foam clay holds up when used on props. I let the sealant dry overnight last night and this morning it was done! And today I took some pictures of it outside to submit to my prof for grading, and to use during our class critique tonight. Considering I was rushing these last steps after 3D printing, it is a miracle I got it done by the deadline. I'm quite happy with how it turned out!!!

Now I'm just hoping that crit goes well tonight! We'll see if my prof thinks this is too much mixed media for a digital media class...

Anyways, hope you enjoyed seeing my process! I know I haven't posted in ages... I have done and made so many cool things this past month, but I've been too stressed and busy to make posts about them. Hopefully I'll have more time to share stuff with you guys soon!

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Harry’s stylist, right?”

Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?

or

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)

Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)

part 2

-

“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”

Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.

Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.

Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.

Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.

The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.

The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.  

“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.

She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.

While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.

She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.

“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”

She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.

“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”

“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”

She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.

“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”

She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.

“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”

She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.

He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.

She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.

-

One week later

“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.

When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.

“H?”

She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.

Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.

“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”

Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”

He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”

“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.

“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.

“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.

She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers.  But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.

After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.

“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.

Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”

The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.

One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”

Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.

“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”

Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.

Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.

“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.

She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.

He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.

“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.

Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.

“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.

Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.

Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.

“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.

Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”

Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.

“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”

“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”

This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.

“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.

On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.

Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.

“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.

“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”

“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.

Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.

“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”

“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.

-

It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.

Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.

She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.

Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.

“Seriously, H?”

She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.

“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”

Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.

“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.

She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.

When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.

“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.

He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”

“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.

“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.

Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.

“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.

“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.

“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.

“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.

“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”

“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.

Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.

“I like it…”

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”

Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.

“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.

They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.

Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.

As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”

Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”

Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”

Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”

“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”

Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.

“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.

Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.

What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.

She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.

The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.

Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”

She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules.  Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.

“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”

Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.

“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”

The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.

“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Just a little for my taste.”

“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.

Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.

Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”

Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.

He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.

“Y/N, right!?”

Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”

Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.

“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”

Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.

“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”

Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”

“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.

Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.  

“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.

“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.

Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.

Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t!”

Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.

“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.

“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”

Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.

“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.

Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.

-

Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x

Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.

When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.

While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.

As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H  

Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:

Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x

Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.

Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.

Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.

He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.

“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”

“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”

“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”

“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.

“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.

Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.

“And on the face?”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.

His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.

“Lipstick?”

She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.

“It was only from-”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.

“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”

She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”

He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.

“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”

His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.

She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.

-

She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.

“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.

“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.

Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”

“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.

When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”  

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”

She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.

“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”

Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”

She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”

He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”

“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.

As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”

“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”

“Yes!”

The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.

Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.

A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”

“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.

“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.

-

Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.

Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.

“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.

“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.

“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.

“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.

He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.

“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.

Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.

“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”

His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.

-

When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.

Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.

The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.

As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.

When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.

What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.

None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.

Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

      - All from Jeff.

She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.

- 

part 2

[yesimwriting]

YALL WHAT SHOULD I WRITE FIRST

Okay!! so both of these are coming at some point!! i have some requests i’ve been working on and i’ve also been working on my original novel (that i hope to get published one day) but i really want to start working on one of my fairytale retellings/AUs(technically not more AU than a regular fic lol)/whatever you want to call them. 

But i can’t pick which one to do first!! 

- Beauty and the Beast retelling 

-Darkling/General Kirigan x reader currently,, but i’m willing to listen to arguments for making this more SOC based and Kaz Brekker x reader, but i think the beauty and the beast theme works better for more SAB based story

- currently focuses on the reader agreeing to take someone’s place as General Kirigan’s prisoner/someone that has to work for him

- I think the plot is going to focus on the reader being a powerful grisha which is part of the reason he took her (like a strong heartrender that can manipulate emotions really precisely,, still unsure if i’d rather her be just human) 

- the reader is low key really impressed with the Little Palace bc she grew up in poverty but she’s trying really hard not to be 

- the (slight) AU part is that Kirigan needs someone of ‘pure heart’ to fall for the person beneath the darkness to unlock more power than ever bc of an ancient curse  (and the person of ‘pure heart’ is the reader bc she has no ulterior motive to like him)

- but then he’s like!! i like her--oh no i like her 

- i see Genya as mrs potts lowkey like she knows that Kirigan wants to win the reader’s love and she’s like trying to help lol 

- Alina lowkey hyping up their connection 

- Reader being all sunshiney and a sweetheart who is literally immune to Kirigan’s angst 

- enemies to lovers excellence 

- jealous kirigan,, jealous kirigan,,, jealous kirigan 

- protective boyfriend vibes wayyy before they start dating lmao 

- honestly a lot of acting cute together but still being like ‘i hate u’ 

- Anastasia retelling 

- Kaz Brekker x reader

-  based lowkey more on the musical than the disney movie (the only real difference in the musical is that someone thinks about killing Anastasia for the Russian revolution)

- the plot would focus on the return of annual rumors of a princess that might have survived a massacre at the palace 

- i would create my own country in the grishaverse for the reader to be the princess of so that i can give it the history i need for my story 

- so you know how in Anastasia Dimitri worked at the palace and he saved Anastasia?? my idea for this one is that the Dregs were hired to kill the royal family that the reader is a part of and bc of what he considers a lapse of judgement, Kaz helps the reader escape bc she was the youngest there and they had an interaction that like tugged at him

- anywayssss.... fast forward years later and Kaz is as hardened as he is in the SOC books, he thinks that the princess he helped died anyways bc he saw her run off in the wrong direction

- but!! the princess’s royal grandmother is still looking for her and this year she’s offering more kruge than ever for the return of her missing granddaughter

- Kaz runs into the reader after she tries to pickpocket him and when he realizes that she’s an orphan that looks enough like Anastasia (same hair color, same eye color, etc) with amnesia he’s like ‘it’s perfect’ 

- the reader is like ?? i don’t know any royal traditions or anything about the royal family,, and also im indentured to this guy who is not going to like this

- and Kaz is like don’t worry about that guy 

- the reader is like ?? don’t worry--

- and he’s like yeahh,, i’ll pull some strings (he’s not really pulling strings, he’s paying for her time but he would never tell the reader that bc it makes her seem valuable and no one wants their time ‘purchased’)

- and then princess training starts!! the reader has to study on family history through textbooks but she still has like no formal etiquette skills and Kaz is like ‘i have a merchling that was part of high society, he can teach you table manners’ 

- Wylan is like you have a what now?? and Kaz is like shut up

- the reader agrees obviously bc Kaz is like i could kill you,, you did try to steal from me, but he’s also like ‘if you’re made a princess you can pay off your indenture and the indentures of your friends’ 

- lots of the crows being best friends with the reader in this one 

- the reader is a gifted medic but touching blood makes her feel ill bc of trauma 

- im thinking of making her a tailor to explain why she brought in so much money for the people she worked for (because she could make herself look like anyone’s type) but im thinking that subplot might complicate things but i do want her to be grisha so maybe a squaller?? idk 

- throughout the story im going to have Kaz think about how he lowkey regrets letting the girl go at the beginning bc it’s an unfinished job technically and bc the family was evil and they did bad by their people 

- reader realizes that she’s been romanticizing this family and that theyre actually bad and she’d rather just stay with the crows 

- kaz realizes he wants the reader to stay 

- both being too prideful to say anything until the reader is like ‘screw it’ but before she can tell kaz (the night before her coronation) kaz is like pls tell me you don’t think you’re her and the reader is like i said i wouldn’t lie to you

- and kaz is genuinely considering killing her to like finish what was started and bc he really hates that family (i’ll explain why he hates the family in the fic lol)

- enemies to lovers bc it’s my favorite,,

-  a lot of everyone being confused on how the reader is allowed to get away with half the stuff kaz allows and then whenever anyone is like YALL ARE ACTING LIKE A COUPLE the reader is like ??this is just how i act? and everyones like YEAH BUT KAZ DOESNT LET PEOPLE ACT LIKE THAT 

- and kaz is like i literally dont know what ur talking about i yelled at her this morning,, i promise i did, it’s not my fault u didn’t see it--i totally yelle--

--

yall i lowkey want to write both of these NOW but i need to learn impulse control pls,, help lol

AND I DIDNT EVEN TELL YALL ABOUT MY TANGLED  OR HADES&PERSEPHONE RETELLING IDEAS MUAHAHAHA PLS SOMEONE MAKE ME STOP IM SUCH A SIMP FOR RETELLINGS 

[nytech]

Building a Two-Sided Marketplace With Regina Gwynn …And uncovering the specificities of your target market.

TresseNoire’s Story

Regina: TresseNoire has been up and running since 2013, but this latest product is a pivot from our original premise, which was to create the first on-demand, on-location beauty booking app that would send a traveling textured hairstylist to your house, hotel, or office to do your hair. Our mission has always stayed the same: it is to give women back the most important resource on Earth, which is time. And we tried to think through multiple ways of doing that by allowing us to find out faster and easier ways to simplify the beautification process. For women of color with textured hair, there are lots of pain points. Everywhere from finding the right products to finding the right stylist, to maintaining the right hairstyles to finding the right long-term maintenance for your hair.

So we kicked off with this on-demand, on-location beauty booking app, which was very successful. We started off in Philadelphia, expanded to New York, and ended up with stylists in Philly, New York, Washington, DC, LA, Dallas, Texas, and Cincinnati. It was through that experience that I became, I guess, a tech founder, which is also a whole separate conversation. You know, I definitely was a non-technical founder, with a background in fashion and beauty prior to my entrepreneurship journey. But it also introduced a very large opportunity with taking the on-demand technologies that we had seen grow like Uber, FreshDirect, and all these other kinds of business models and apply them to the beauty industry.

We kept getting so many questions from our clients. “Okay, so now the stylist has left, I love my hairstyle. Now, what do I do? How do I maintain this hairstyle?” or “What products should I be getting in the beauty supply store?” And so I found myself doing so many additional phone calls, whether it was me advising the client, connecting them to our stylists either before, during, or after the hairstyles. We realized that there was an even bigger opportunity. Through the access to education and personalization, every single client was different, they had a different hair type a different hairstyle, they lived in a different location, they had different hair needs, whether it was fitting edges, or split ends, or dry hair or super curly hair.

So there were all these different variables that to my co-founder: “If we’re in this tech industry, and we have all these tech tools available to us, why aren’t we using all of these unique criteria to develop a more accurate system, a more accurate process?” That was the impetus behind pivoting to our virtual beauty coach app. Now, our clients can take a quiz. We gather 28 points of data to determine the kind of beauty regimen that works for them, and that education is delivered through a text message. So you interact with our beauty coach via phone, and you can actually change the algorithm based on the information you give us. So if it’s raining outside, then we’ll say hey, it’s raining, don’t forget your umbrella. And if you change your hairstyle, then we’ll change the education based on the data that the client provides.

We’re still in private beta, and we definitely have learned a ton this year, in a lot of the iterations that we’ve been working on. But I’m really excited about the long-term opportunities of providing this technology to additional beauty brands. The idea is to make sure that we’re getting education around our specific hair journey and making that type of information available to everyone.

Building a Two-Sided Marketplace

Andy: That’s really exciting because you went from being an entrepreneur that was using technology to build her product and her services to being a tech entrepreneur, and building a tech product. And I imagine that was a very different experience from both sides of the coin. I want to dive a little bit deeper into that, starting with the on-demand service platform that you provided, and the lessons that you learned while you were trying to scale that business into different markets.

Every market is a different market, and I’m sure you had to adapt to each market. What was it like to build an on-demand service?

Regina: Building marketplaces is really hard. Building two-sided marketplaces is even harder. Do you have to start building the offer or the demand?

In addition, understanding the nuances in the type of customer demand was essential to tailor our offer to each market. As we started to move forward, we realized that marketplaces are really hard.

When we look at Glamsquad and other beauty booking app type models, we see that they’ve been around since 2011, have raised over $30 million, and to date, are still in less than 10 markets. It’s become very clear that there was some very inherent kind of long-term challenges that we were going to face while identifying that there were other pain points.

Uncovering the Specificities of Your Target Market

Andy: How did you uncover the specificities of each market? What kind of data did you collect to inform your decisions?

Regina: Social media is really useful. We have a modest amount of followers, probably around 10,000 across Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. They actually were the main indicator. When we would look at our audience, scroll through the pictures and see what are women wearing in Dallas, New York, Austin, Texas, LA, etc. That way we could see a very different consumer, from market to market.

We took that information along with talking to our stylists. So we always had at least a few boots on the ground in any market that we went into, and between my co-founder and I, we have networks across the country. We always wanted to just pick up the phone and talk to a girlfriend and say: “Hey, what’s going on in that area? What are the hot spots? Who are the arbiters of culture in that area?” Then we would follow them and watch them in order to find out where the beauty trends are going.

[starkerdestroyedmylifee]

Thief

Peter tries not to feel the weight of his backpack as he makes his way up from the lab. He really does. But, it’s heavy. 

‘Well, of course it is.’ 

Peter curses himself, popping up each step and hoping- praying- he doesn’t bump into anyone on the way. It’s still heavy, though. Even with his super-strength; heavy, and metal, and not his, because he really, really shouldn’t have it.

At all.

When the day had begun, Peter’d played the part of ‘devastated mentee’ to a T. His eyes had been puffy, exiting his aunt May’s car, rubbing his runny nose on the cuff of his suit.

No, not his suit.

Some store-bought thrift that didn’t quite fit his shoulders. A black jacket with fabrics frayed at the base, and dress-pants not quite long enough. Pepper had offered paying to get something tailored, but Peter’d declined quickly. It didn’t feel right, taking money from Mr. Stark’s fortune, even beyond the grave. They hadn’t known each other well enough. Which is odd, considering he’s currently attending said man’s funeral.

Peter tries not to linger on the fact that he’s technically (Technically meaning actually) stealing from Mr. Stark, and instead makes his way through the crowded living room. The majority of guests seem to be winding down now, what with Tony’s eulogy all said and done. Only soft, meditated tones, and consoling hands on shoulders, and Ms. Pepper Potts- smiling politely, but dead on her feet- striking up some conversation about sewage. He meets her gaze, and the weight of his backpack is bone-breaking.

She doesn’t walk over to him, thankfully. Of course, he’s just another kid wrapped up in her late husband’s antics. The invitation sent their way had been courteous at best, but worded as something that was supposed to happen, despite being a bit inappropriate. Peter’s a stranger, after all. And, what happens when you invite strangers into your house?

They steal your stuff.

Still, Ms. Potts nods his way. Soft; disinterested. Her gaze quickly slides over him, onto another guest far more deserving of her attention. Despite this, Peter’s back goes rigid for the few seconds spent on him. He holds his breath- freezes- before letting it out in relief.

‘This is horrible.’ Peter thinks to himself. ‘I’m literally going to hell for this.’ 

It doesn’t matter at this point. Not with his mind fogged in an overwhelming cloud of grief, or his eyes still stinging from such a heavy cry, or his throat burning from yet another wave of anguish. ‘No,’ he decides, tapping his aunt’s shoulder. ‘It doesn’t even matter at this point.’

He feigns a stomach ache, by which May thinks he’s playing sick to escape the depressing atmosphere of his idol’s funeral, and drives him home before Happy can so much as woo her to stay at his place.

Up the stairs.

Through the hallway.

Into his bedroom.

He shuts the door. Crumbles to pieces. Because-. Because, he finally starts realizing what he’s just done.

‘Oh, god. Oh god, this is so much worse than I thought it would be. This is- This is literally the worst idea I’ve ever had. Stupid, stupid, stupid!’

Peter can’t help his hands from shaking as he lifts the metal helmet out of his bag. It’s cold against his skin, which only makes his mouth go dry. Mr. Stark used to wear this. He used to wear this, and it’d been cold. Heavy and cold.

“...I really fucked up.” He says out loud, which only seems to solidify it.

Well, he can’t take it back now. Not if Pepper ends up noticing that it is gone. A monument. A goddamn trophy of Mr. Stark’s. One of his earliest models, with the classic red spray and golden faceplate. Christ, if he’d wanted it so badly, why didn’t he just buy a replica?

Because it wasn’t the same.

It isn’t the same.

But, damn it all, it’s also not his. 

Peter had just wanted something to remember Mr. Stark by, and-. God, that helmet had called to him like a siren. 

‘Mr. Stark would want you to have it.’ His brain had supplied.

Which-.

Uh.

No.

No, he would not want a literal child hanging onto his legacy like a fucking baseball card, instead of in a museum, or some well-maintained pedestal, or in a safe to be preserved for the next thousand years. Tony had been over the top like that. He liked to think his work was worth something. It was meant to adore.

The thought of Peter one day throwing it on top of his dirty laundry made him want to cry.

“Oh, god. Oh- Oh, shit. Okay, Peter. This is-. Oh, shit.” He tosses Mr. Stark’s helmet on the bed, and really does almost cry. A High-Tec, revolutionary piece of hardware, worn by Earth’s savior had just been thrown on his rumpled bedsheets, and goddamn fucking shit Peter is definitely- definitely- about to have a panic attack. He throws his arms up.

“That’s it.” Peter rambles sharply. “I’m screwed. I am so screwed, because I-. Oh my god, is it chipped? Of course it’s fucking chipped, Peter. It-. It’s Tony’s. Of course. Oh my god, I’m going to jail.” He peeks out the window, half-expecting to see cop cars at the entrance of his apartment complex. “Why did I do this?”

That’s the big question. Up until this point, Mr. Stark had only ever been an idol. Then a mentor. Then a father figure.

And, then-.

Okay, no. Peter is not going there. He paces around his room, onto his walls, the ceiling, hanging off his fingertips before plopping back onto his bare feet. He sighs, cursing, before making his inevitable journey back to the helmet.

Picking it up, his senses note a slight rise in temperature. It’s still cold, obviously. His room is well-heated though, unlike the lifeless cellar they’d had it cooped up in just hours before. Which makes Peter feel a little better about things- he smiles, tilting it this way and that. ‘Ha! A real home.’- before noticing a patch of crumbs on the helmet’s jaw from when he’d eaten Cheetos on the bed, wiped his fingers against the sheets, and seamlessly forgotten to throw them in the wash.

Peter almost faints.

Luckily, they’re easily wiped away by some bed-side tissues (Peter tries not to remember what he uses said tissues for. He’s already mortified by his poor treatment of it.) He sits on the bed with a huff, settling Mr. Stark’s tech in his lap like a pet. Peter runs his fingers over it apologetically, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough. He sighs, lowering his head.

“I bet you think this is pretty funny, huh?” Peter supplies, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, it’s not… It’s a little funny, but only because I know you’d probably have some quippy one-liner set up for me.” He falls onto his back, bringing the helmet to rest against his chest. Breathing out through his nose, he raises the metal mask just above him, so he can stare up at it. His bedroom light catches the surface of gleaming red, and Peter feels like a dirty slob just touching this rare treasure.

“Something like…” He pauses, thinking for a moment. “‘Oh, Peter. Looks like you’re a head of the game…’ That was really bad.” He chews his lip. “‘Sorry, kid. I want you to fill my shoes. This is a little much.’ God, no. That doesn’t sound like Mr. Stark at all.” Peter turns onto his side, letting the helmet lay against his pillow. They stare intimately at each other. ‘They’ being Peter and a lifeless curve of metal. He pulls the mask a bit closer.

“‘Woah there, Spiderman. At least buy dinner before you take it to bed.’” Peter turns his face into his pillow, groaning pitifully. 

“Why are helmet jokes so hard?” He pauses, mulling his complaint over. “Okay, that one wasn’t bad.” Like that, Peter angles his face to check on the helmet, and looks to see its reaction. Which creeps him out, of course. Alright, so maybe there are even more implications to stealing his idol’s helmet then the fact he stole it. Maybe it’s just bad to have an inanimate object symbolic of Mr. Stark around him.

‘No shit.’ Peter thinks to himself, drawing a hand down his face.

Still…

He places a finger along the metal mask’s faceplate; feels the cool of its surface, the crisp curve of each indent. It’s nice. Really, really nice. Which is exactly why he has to pull away and face the wall of his room.

‘Nope. No chance. Time out, Peter.’

He closes his eyes, counting back from one hundred. He does it seven times. Eight. It doesn’t matter. Peter turns around to face it again, and does exactly what he’d been doing before. His fingers map out the metal slabs, just imagining what it must’ve been like inside.

‘It probably smells like him.’ Peter’s brain coos.

‘What? Like booze, and sweat, and morning breath? Is that what you’re tempting me with?’

‘Yes.’

It doesn’t smell like Mr. Stark, for the record. It smells sterile and lifeless and unworn, like someone went and purged it of everything Tony. Which, Peter assures himself, is completely, totally fine. It doesn’t bother him a bit.

Not one bit.

Not when he slips a hand inside and feels the strange padding used to cradle Mr. Stark’s head. Or when he pulls it out, not devastated to find the man hadn’t shed any hair. Nope. Not even a little. Because that would be weird, and a little obsessive. A lot obsessive. It’s not like Peter could clone Mr. Stark if he had any kind of DNA. It’s not like Peter wants to.

He checks his alarm clock, the same one still ticking five years after the blip; 10:47.

Not crazy late. On the contrary, it’d be amazingly early for the hyper-active teen to turn in just yet. That’s what he tells himself as he reaches over his night stand, tugging the string of his lamp light. The room goes dark and Peter tries (Read: fails miserably) to fall asleep. Looking his crime in the face anymore than he already has to is punishment enough, at least for today.

He tries to ease his muscles, but they just won’t let up. There’s a weight in his bed that he’s not used to, and it sets all his human nerves on edge, even with his Spidey-senses dormant. Peter should put it in the closet, but he can’t bear the image of allowing it to collect dust. On the contrary, the thought leaves him choked and wanting a glass of water he doesn’t have the energy to grab. The idea of mistreating anything Tony Stark-related has the young vigilante in shambles.

Which is why he soon finds himself rotating around to face the helmet in his bed. Even through darkness, he can make out a sharp outline of lunar beams streaming in through the window. It’s soothing. It’s reprimanding. Peter sniffs, blinking away what feels like an ocean of tears.

“I’m sorry…?” He offers shyly. His tone breaks, shoulders bunched, brow pinched with a grimace only offset by the flush of his cheeks. ‘At least here,’ Peter thinks to himself, ‘I can get some kind of closure.’ 

Which is exactly what leads him to kiss the metal armor.

Soft, across where he’s sure Tony’s lips would be located. It’s quick. Innocent, really. If things weren’t so different in the 21st century, people might mistake it for a platonic peck. Because Tony- brave, wise Tony- was like a father to him, in the only way he understood a father could be. It’d been so tender, after all. With those sweet, thin fingers caressing, not pulling, and palms that cradled, not smooshed. Nothing demanding. Nothing sexual. Just a good ol’ fashion kiss, which lasts no more than a few seconds.

Peter promises himself it isn’t anything else. It’s a platonic kiss on the lips. Which is a thing. It is, but other people might make it out to be something more. Someone like MJ would probably cackle her ass off if she knew he’d given the mask a kiss, as short as it is.

The few that follow after are a bit longer.

By the time Peter finishes, he’s relaxed in the worst way possible. He feels groggy, worn at the lips, and shitty as all hell because that last kiss had definitely been excessive. 

And, okay.

Peter has a massive crush on Mr. Stark.

It’s terribly obvious. And tragic as shit, since the man is dead. Despite reminding himself, he can’t help but cling onto that damn feeling of metal on chapped, teenage lips. He feels sleepy, and he suddenly doesn’t want to be. It feels immensely inappropriate falling asleep next to a helmet he smooched to pieces.

Like sleeping next to Tony in Peter’s perverse, miserable fantasies.

Where Ms. Potts is away on business, and Mr. Stark is oh-so alone, and oh-so desperate for some kind of bodily touch. Where Peter is his sexy young intern, who has the confidence to wear feminine lingerie under his work clothes, and doesn’t mind brushing hips. They could make hot, passionate love in the lab for all he cares, and Mr. Stark would call him Baby, and Peter would call him Daddy, and it would hardly be funny to say in the moment, though he might snort when thinking over it later.

Best of all, Tony likes Peter best in his fantasies.

Parker is his favorite.

It’s only ever fantasy, though. Peter knows better than to indulge it.

In a conflicting fit between putting the helmet away, or pulling a sheet over top, or entertaining the notion of sneaking it back in place before anyone notices it’s gone, Peter decides to give the mask his bed while he sleeps on the floor. He’d much rather give Mr. Stark his best than chance disrespecting the man’s memory in favor of comfort. He obviously can’t be trusted, getting too close to Tony-related objects.

Laying on his bedroom floor twiddling his thumbs, Peter can’t help but wonder: What has my life come to?

[justice4harwin]

Light’s Corruption- Chapter VIII

Summary: With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.

After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.

Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.

It won’t be pretty.

Pairing: The DarklingxAlina

Rating: 18+

Do I have a playlist for this story? Yeah

Do I also have a separate bff playlist for Genya and Alina? Duh

Click here for chapter 7 in case you missed it. 

Chapter 8: Alina the Baker

Grisha at the Little Palace had a day of the week off every other week, which meant that Alina could catch up on some precious sleep in the confines of her soft, warm bed filled with softer pillows. Even with the weak winter sun shining down on her, Alina could've slept all day and well into the night. In fact, it was even better, for she'd be warmer. There was no such thing as 'too much warmth' for her. The hotter, the better.

Curled up like a cat over the luxurious bed, the Sun Summoner intended to sleep all day and night.

Then there was a knock on her door.

She didn't hear it and rolled over in a most unnatural way.

The knocking got louder.

She began to stir.

"Get up, Starkov!" Genya yelled from the other side.

"Maybe if I don't make any sounds she'll leave." Alina thought, clutching her eyes tightly shut.

"You know I can go get the keys, but that'll only give me time to get angrier!"

Groaning, Alina threw herself onto the floor and made for the wretched door.

The redhead swung in with her usual grace, her kit in hand as she hummed a melody strange to Alina's ears.

Slowly, Alina followed her.

"Wash your face and come sit here." she instructed, pointing at the vanity.

After doing so, the Tailor began to work on her hair.

"Do I have somewhere to be?" Alina asked, yawning.

"No, but with the Winter Fete so close, I wanted to try some different styles for your hair and make-up, so we won't waste so much time on the actual day." she explained. "Besides, the Duke is still here, so the queen's daily naps have become longer, which only makes it harder for the Duke to talk whatever it is he wants to discuss with the king."

Alina made an odd face through the mirror; Genya smiled at her ingenuity.

"They've been fucking like ra-"

"Ah, ta-ta-ta, I get it." the Summoner closed her eyes and waved her hands, not wanting to picture any of it. "Does the king know?"

Genya snorted, joining two braids into one.

"Please, he's a dumb child."

Alina yawned again, loudly.

"Look, I don't think my hair matters too much for the Fete, so how about we take a nap?"

"Lazy."

"It's early."

"So?" a red, perfectly trimmed eyebrow rose softly. "Who would imagine the Sun Summoner herself wouldn't want to raise with the sun?"

"Technically, the sun is always out."

"I'm also using you as an excuse to get out of the Grand Palace."

"Can we do something else, then?"

"No!" she yanked Alina's hair once more and tied it. Leaning over her friend, she arranged the three mirrors which sat atop the vanity so the other woman could get a good look at it. "What do you think?"

Alina stared at her reflection. Two braids started at the top of her head and joined as one at the base of her neck.

"I like it."

Genya placed a slender finger to her lips.

"Too simple." With a flourish of her hand, Alina's hair was freed once more, falling in dark waves down her shoulders. "Turn."

When she did, her friend leaned over and took her face gently.

"I thought you were sleeping better." she mumbled as she ran her fingers underneath her eyes, ridding it of bags.

"I am, I think."

"Have you been summoning?"

"Yes, but, …"

"But?"

Genya leaned against the vanity, waiting patiently.

"I don't know." Alina said, looking down at her hands. "I know Baghra is horrible, and she still hasn't called back for me-"

"Then you go to her."

"I don't want to." Alina confessed, even though she probably should. Who else would teach her? The Darkling? He was always on and off the Little Palace grounds. "What if I mess up too bad and no-one's there to stop me?"

"So you haven't been summoning." Genya concluded.

"I have!" she fought back. "Just a little."

To prove her point, she closed her hand into a fist, opened up, and let a small orb of light fly up to Genya's face, not too close to make her uncomfortable. The Tailor watched the light with a small smile, and slowly reached out.

"I thought it might burn me."

"I think it would if I wanted to hurt you, or if I put more effort into it."

"But you love me too much."

"I tolerate you." she joked, moving the orb up and above her friend's head. "Now you look like a saint." she said, trying to turn the orb into a halo. It flickered and didn't exactly do as she commanded, only shone brighter over Genya's features.

The redhead shook her hand.

"Move. With this light, I can probably mask my age a bit more."

"Oh yeah," Alina said as she stood up, a playful smile on her face. "Because you're soooo old."

Alina didn't actually know how old Genya was, but she was sure they were about the same age.

"Tomorrow I will be a year closer to grey hair so," Genya's fingers went over her face, getting rid of imperfections Alina couldn't see. "One can never start too early."

"Tomorrow's your birthday?" Alina asked, starting to smile.

Genya didn't seem so excited. She merely shrugged.

"Yes."

"What are you planning on doing? Are you having a party? How many people will be there? Are presents mandatory? Cause I don't have permission to go to the city to get you one, and it doesn't really matter because I have no money and I don't have time enough to do something myself. What sort of ca-?

"Alina!" Genya had to raise her voice a little to get her overly excited friend to stop. "We don't celebrate birthdays here. It's just another day."

The Sun Summoner frowned.

"So, not even a cake? Or the day off?"

The Tailor huffed, amused.

"What for?"

"To celebrate." Alina was no longer bouncing on her heels.

"Trust me, the last thing anyone in these palaces would think of is to celebrate my silly birthday." she said as if it meant nothing.

Alina sat on the carpeted floor; legs crossed.

"That's depressing."

"If you say so." she remained indifferent.

She peered up at her friend and got an idea.

"Should we have some tea?"

"After I test how to work your face."

Later that night, standing outside the kitchens of the Little Palace, Alina ran her hands over her kefta and stood as straight as she could, putting on her best scowl. She hoped she had picked up a thing or two from Ana Kuya and Baghra

She entered the place like she owned it. At first, nobody took notice, too busy with their tasks. She cleared her throat.

Nothing.

She clapped her hands twice, like Genya did to call upon the attention of her miserable shrews -not that Alina considered the kitchen staff to fall into that category- and everyone in the kitchen turned to her, adopting various expressions at the sight of her.

No-one seemed to know what to do or what to say.

Trying to seem somewhat commanding, Alina cleared her throat once more.

"I need ingredients to make a cake." she stated.

One of the cooks swallowed hard before she began to speak.

"If you'd like a cake, Miss, I can make-"

"I want to do it myself, actually." she said, placing both hands behind her back and praying to all the saints she could remember -there weren't many- that they took her seriously.

Still, nobody moved.

Alina guessed that it wasn't every day that a Grisha showed up and demanded to cook something by themselves.

Not wanting the kitchen staff to feel offended, she spoke again:

"It's for a friend, you see, so I'd like to give her something I made with my own hands."

Slowly, the same woman who had spoken nodded, and then smiled tentatively.

"There's fresh eggs over there, Miss."

As it turned out, Alina did need some help after all. She knew how to make a basic cake, but as soon as she said it was a birthday cake, a middle-aged man jumped on her, offended on behalf of Genya.

"You can't just give your friend something so bland." he had said, his face red as he gestured widely at the cake, like it was a disgusting piece of work. One might have thought Alina had insulted his family. "You need to fill it with something, decorate it, give it life and flavour!"

Yes. That, she had no idea how to do.

He pushed her aside hastily.

"Saint can summon light but can't make a decent birthday cake." he muttered.

Alina's mouth hung open, offended, but she said nothing.

She hurried up the steps with a big cake held as if it were a precious new-born child when she heard him:

"Miss Starkov?"

"Holy Saints!"

She came to such a sudden halt, the cake moved precariously on its base.

"Yes, sir?" she called, tense, not daring to turn back.

"I am glad I came upon you;" The Darkling said, and she could hear him approaching.

It was so great to have him back, but why did he have to arrive at that time? Couldn't he have waited a few more minutes?

"Was there something you needed?" she asked.

"I can't believe myself, but please say 'no'"

"No, no, I just wanted to inform you that you shall start training with me tomorrow. I will see you at the entrance just before dawn."

"I thought you had no time for personal training." she was reminded of their conversation one season prior. "And that you didn't want to show favouritism."

It was probably stupid of her to say those things, to make him look like he couldn't make up his mind, but she find it hard to filter her thoughts when he was in the vicinity.

"I remember our conversation very well, Alina." he said, and she could hear his voice closer. It was so deep and smooth. Alina took a deep breath and tried to steady her heartbeat. "But some circumstances have changed, and I decided to make an exception."

Any other day, she would've melted at his feet at the way he spoke, as if it were almost a dirty, scandalous secret only meant for them.

But she had Genya's cake in her hands. It was big, and heavy, and he couldn't see it.

"That's great!" she said, and she meant it. "Thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to go. Moi Soverennyi." she bowed, and then clutched her eyes shut, cursing herself silently. Nothing showed more respect for one's General than showing them their behind.

"Are you hiding something, Alina?" he asked, sounding far too amused to her liking.

"Nope."

"Right. And I am the Black Heretic." he almost snorted. Alina frowned; he sounded so…normal when he did that. She wanted to hear it more often, she realized.

She craned her neck so she could get a glimpse at him. His eyes shone with mirth; the corner of his mouth was tilted up. She wanted to freeze him like that forever.

"It's nothing bad or illegal."

He chuckled, and his nose crunched up a little. Alina found it adorable, and she wanted to kiss him again, cuddle next to a fire by him, and make him laugh until his sides hurt.

"Alright, then. I shall let you be on your way." he took a step back, and Alina took a few steps forward before stopping at the end of the stairs.

"It's good to have you back."

She climbed up the stairs so quickly one might've thought a Squaller was pushing her up, and didn't give him opportunity to say anything back.

Alina moved her tea table to the centre of her room, where she placed the cake and a few flowers she had stolen from the various vases around the Little Palace to give it more life.

Smiling like an idiot, she closed her eyes and called her light just as there was a knock on the door.

Her light answered and her hand shot up, leaving a thin layer of golden dust hovering near the ceiling, giving the space a lovely ambience.

Hastily, she made sure everything was in order. The tea was hot, and there was plenty of kvas and wine for at least ten people. The kitchen staff had been more than happy to provide for her when they found out who Alina wanted to celebrate. Apparently, Genya was well liked among the otkazat'sya who worked on the Little Palace.

She hurried to open the door.

Genya waited on the other side, standing straight, an eyebrow arched up.

"You called for me? Is it urgent?"

"Yes!" The Sun Summoner answered, taking her friend's hand and dragging her across the expansive room.

She turned abruptly and placed her hands on Genya's eyes, blocking her view.

"For all the Saints, Ali, I don't have time to play around." she complained as she was dragged some more. "Just because the queen is spending another afternoon with the Duke of Balakirev doesn't mean I don't have other things to do and-"

Alina uncovered her eyes.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" she squealed, taking a step to the side and extending her arms to showcase the cake.

It was rectangular, decorated with red, blue and yellow flowers all over it. No white. Nothing about that cake was white.

The Tailor stared at it.

'Happy Birthday, Genya!' it read, in black, messy letters. While the middle-aged man from the kitchen had done most of the decorating of the cake, Alina had insisted on writing the words herself.

Still, The Tailor stared at it, mouth agape.

Slowly, Alina's smiled dropped, and looking at her friend in the eyes, she was horrified to find them wet.

A tear fell down Genya's pale face, and Alina rushed over to remove it.

"Gen?" she asked, extremely concerned. "What is it?"

But Genya couldn't say anything. Her mouth opened, then it closed, and it opened again as a small cry left its confines, the tears falling freely now, like a turbulent river.

Alina hugged her, rubbing her stiff back in circles.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." she said over and over again. "I just thought you might like it. I'm so sorry. Do you want me to throw it away?"

She felt how her friend shook her head, clinging to her with a vice like grip.

Alina was the one who wanted to cry now, seeing her closest friend in such a state made her eyes tear, and, oh damn, she was crying now as well.

They stood like that for a few moments, weeping like idiots, the hug a bit awkward since Genya seemed to hover over smaller Alina.

Slowly, the Tailor disentangled herself from the Summoner, and her friend let her go.

Genya delicately passed a finger underneath her eyes and adverted her gaze, although Alina could see the red in her eyes.

"Thank you, Ali. Truly." she said, her voice slightly hoarse.

Alina was at a loss of words.

"It's just a cake, Gen." she shrugged. "I just thought, we could celebrate together, if you wanted. We can invite anyone you want." she suggested.

Smiling just a little, Genya looked down at her hands and played with her fingers.

"No, it's just…"she took a deep breath and let it out. Alina waited patiently. "No one ever really did this for me before." she said, raising her arm towards her cake.

"A birthday cake?" Alina asked slowly, her voice tremulous and trying not to sound sad. "Well, it's not a big deal!" she tried to shake it off, waving a hand with a forced smile. "Back in Keramzin there was only one plain cake per month for all the children so-"

"No, "Genya interrupted, her voice a mere whisper that cut through Alina's heart like a sharp blade. "I mean, celebrated. No one's ever done this much." her eyes were like crystal again. "Thank you."

Alina felt uncomfortable. She really did feel sad for her friend? Had no one ever truly celebrated her birthday? She knew she had been given to the queen at a young age, but even before that, had her parents ever made something for her? Or at least said anything on the day?

Alina didn't remember much of her parents, but she did remember once a year, her father coming up to her with a small, strawberry tart. He and mamma would hug her more than usual and kiss her cheeks and play with her all day until the sun went down and her eyes dropped closed of exhaustion.

"Chasing the waters." she thought, absentmindedly.

Even before the Little Palace, had Genya never had any of that?

"I'm just, sorry I couldn't do anything grander on such short notice." Alina tried to smile. "I have a present for you" she was now grinning, although so very nervous on the inside. She walked over to her desk and took the envelope. "I didn't have time to make something so… it was very last minute. She came back to stand before her friend and extended the envelope, which Genya took with a look in her eyes that resembled disbelief and wonder. Alina's cheek reddened. "It's nothing. Really. Open it."

Genya did as she was asked, and Alina bit her bottom lip, trembling as she recalled, word by word, what she had put down on the paper with her finest ink.

"I have a friend,

with bright, red hair.

She has a loudmouth,

and a brusque, yet marvellous touch.

 She and I have known each other,

for only a couple of months,

But I know that in my soul,

She's well settled for long.

 Some will say she's pretty

Others will say she's pricky,

and while those all ring through,

I know the person behind those needle-like replies.

 I have a friend,

with bright, red hair.

She's always there for me,

as I'll always be there for her."

It seemed as if an eternity had passed before the Tailor looked up, fresh tears in her eyes.

"Did you write this?" she asked, voice cracked. Alina nodded sheepishly, and Genya said: "This is the shittiest piece of poetry I have ever read."

The Summoner tried to not let her hurt show on her face, but a moment later she was being engulfed into another bear hug.

"I love it." Genya whispered almost fervently, clutching her tighter. "Thank you."

They spent the afternoon drinking tea, eating cake, talking and laughing. Genya had admired the piece for a long moment, as if trying to burn it into her memory, before she cut into the first two portions.

After a while, when there was no more tea and they grew tired of cutting, they sat themselves down on the carpeted floor, cake and all, and dug in directly from the base as they helped it pass through with kvas and wine.

"What do you mean?" Alina asked as they both laid on top of the soft, fur carpet of the floor, facing up, unable to move.

"Another rule of the General to keep his Grisha humble: no birthday parties." Genya answered, her speech slurred and the last part with a deeper tone, like she wanted to imitate Kirigan.

"That sucks!" Alina spat, just as drunk as her friend.

"Yeah!"

"Parties are…cool." she stated, raising her index finger as if to make a point. "There's cake,"

"Ugh." Genya's hand flew down to her stomach. "I can't move."

Alina ignored her.

"There's presents, if you're not an orphan." she giggled at her own misery. "There's more cake, and there's people."

"There's always p-people at the Tiny Palace." Genya reminded her, kicking off her boots.

Alina did the same, her hands blindly reaching up to the couch for the small pillows.

"Yeah;" one of the pillows hit Genya in the face, and the Tailor whined about it as she placed it underneath her head. "But there's no birthday cake, thanks to General Handsomest. And no birthday parties." She counted to three in her head, shot up, grabbed the blanket at the back of the couch, and let herself fall again on top of the rug.

Saints, how had she and Genya managed to eat that entire monstrosity?

She threw the blanket over her body and kicked until it covered her feet. Genya clumsily pulled at it so it'd cover her as well.

Alina frowned.

"There's people at parties."

"Yes, Alina." Genya closed her eyes.

Alina's frown deepened, some of the blurriness in her mind clearing.

"People talk at parties."

Genya opened one eye.

"Are you going to get us in trouble?"

Alina, who could barely put the dots together as she thought of how full of cake she was and how funny everything looked from where she was laying on the ground, and how handsome the General was, and how she wanted to kiss him again and slap him for leaving her like that, turned her face towards her friend.

"Only if General Handsome caught us." she said.

Genya sighed.

"Fine. But turn your head to the other side. I don't want your puke in my face."

Giggling at the disgusting image, Alina did as she was told.

Their hands found each other underneath the blanket in a soft hold.

"Happy birthday, Gen." Alina mumbled, the lack of sleep due to her preparations for the afternoon and all the alcohol catching up to her.

"Thank you, Ali."

A/N: Hope you liked it! This is probably the last sweet chapter before things gradually start to get darker *evil laugh*

Click here for chapter IX

[kairos-in-wonderland]

Day 1: Ladies First

Okay, so this is actually the first piece of Merlin based writing I’ve ever posted anywhere and technically (in my time zone) I’m a couple hours late, but this is my day 1 submission for Camelove 2021! I hope that whoever reads this enjoys it - it was originally gonna be about 1000 words but it ended up being about 3500 😅 Here it is!

Pairing: OC/Morgana, with Arwen and Mercelot

Modern AU, fake dating AU

Trigger warnings: forced relationship, arranged marriage (attempted), violence, abuse (mild), homophobia

“Wylla!” someone called after her, and she turned to see Morgana running towards her.

“Morgana,” she greeted as the girl came to a halt in front of her, “are you okay?”

“I really need a favour and I didn’t know who else to ask, can we talk somewhere?” Morgana asked tentatively, and Wylla nodded, dragging her into the currently deserted school theatre, “Brilliant, okay… This is gonna be really weird and it’s okay if you say no – really, it is, I jus-”

“Morgana!” Wylla exclaimed, letting out a short laugh, “Calm down, what do you need?”

“Well, you’re friends with Arthur, he’s told you what my step-father is like?” Wylla nodded for Morgana to continue, “He’s hosting a party this week for investors and he’s trying to set me up with Will Sarrum; he’s the heir to Amata Motors, my step-father wants me to marry him for when he takes over the company, to make sure they continue to use Pendragon Financing.”

“Okay, that’s seriously messed up, but why do you need my help? You need someone from the law a-level classes, not drama, I can’t help you get out of this.”

“But you can,” Morgana was grinning, despite the clear panic flashing in her eyes, “if I were to be dating someone else, he’d struggle to get me to do it. And he’d struggle even more if I were to be dating a girl.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Wylla laughed.

“Yes. You don’t have to, but I think that Sarrum would be put off dating me if he knew I was dating a girl – his entire family are homophobic bigots.”

“Does Uther know that you’re into girls?”

“I’ve told him, but he doesn’t believe me,” Morgana muttered, and Wylla sighed.

“So, you want me to go to this party with you and pretend to be your girlfriend to a) prove to your dad that you’re a lesbian and b) prevent an arranged marriage that your father wants for a business alliance?”

“That’s pretty much the gist of it, yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” she said, and Morgana’s eyes widened, “you need this.”

“Oh my god, thank you!” Morgana exclaimed, hugging her tightly, “I owe you so bad for this, how can I make it up to you?”

“Dinner and a movie?” Wylla suggested, “Imagine Uther’s face when you tell him.”

“You are amazing,” Morgana laughed and Wylla joined in, “right, okay. The party is on Saturday, formal dress – I’ll help you decide what to wear – and Geoffrey will pick you up at 4pm. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah, of course, and I can’t wait to see Arthur’s face when I show up as your date,” the girls giggled a little and Wylla leaned against the stage, “so, are we keeping up the pretence of this relationship within school? Or just at the party?”

“I think it might be a good idea if we make it look like we’re dating for the next few days within school, otherwise Sarrum and some of our other classmates who will be at the party could suspect that it’s fake. Unless there are people you don’t want to think that you’re dating me?”

“That’s not a problem, Morgana, don’t worry,” she looked up at the clock and groaned, “right, when’s your lunch break? There’s gonna be a class in here for a couple hours but I’m done for the day after that.”

“I’ve got history for two hours so I can meet you here afterwards?” she suggested, and Wylla nodded as her peers started to enter the room, “I’ll see you then,” Morgana pressed a cheek before leaving, and Wylla couldn’t help but blush as the other students looked towards Morgana. To be fair, she was staring too, trying to wrap her head around what she’s just agreed to.

“Was that Morgana?” a voice whispered behind her, breaking her trance.

“Oh, yeah,” Wylla let out a nervous laugh as she turned towards Merlin, “she just popped in to see me before going to her lesson.”

“And since when were you close enough with Morgana for her to think of doing that?” he questioned, and she blushed.

“Uh, since we started dating,” she lied, and his eyes widened, “apparently her step-father is hosting a party on Saturday and she wanted to invite me.”

“Oh yeah, Gwen told me that Arthur’s taking her, to give him a chance to avoid some of the other people who’ll be at the party – all the posh and privileged students who think they’re above us. You do realise that most of Uther’s ‘friends’ are homophobic, right?”

“Why do you think I’m going? Morgana already told Uther, and word is bound to spread about our relationship, I don’t want her to be alone with them for that long,” Wylla argued, and Merlin smiled.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked as they sat down on the edge of the stage, waiting for their teacher to arrive.

“Not long, we’ve kept it a secret till now but we thought it was about time people knew. I’m sorry, I would’ve told you, but-”

“I get it, you wanted to respect her privacy,” Merlin finished for her.

“Yeah. That, and just remember that you didn’t tell me that you were dating Lancelot until you’d dragged me along to three of his and Arthur’s football games.”

“Okay, point proven,” he laughed as their teacher entered the theatre to start the lesson.

The lesson dragged on for Wylla, who was not only eager to see Morgana but also had to endure stares from her classmates because of her new ‘girlfriend’. The whole idea kept going around in her mind – she’d never thought of Morgana in a romantic way before, and yet she couldn’t get the raven-haired girl out of her mind – even when they were meant to be memorising their monologues, her eyes trained on the page, Morgana was the only thing she could think about. She was only woken from her daze when someone clicked in front of her face, “Seriously, Wylla, everyone’s already gone,” Merlin laughed, and she groaned before resting her head in her hands, “how were you that distracted?” she didn’t answer, but she looked up from the table when there was a knock on the theatre’s door which they saw Morgana leaning against, “ah, got it.” Wylla blushed and Merlin grabbed his bag from under the stage.

“See you tomorrow Merlin!” Wylla called as he left and Morgana walked towards her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and Wylla let out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, just thinking. Apparently I managed to zone out for most of the lesson.”

“Oh, are you tired? Do you want me to go and get you a coffee or something?” Morgana offered, but Wylla shook her head.

“I’m okay, I was just thinking about us – that is, what we’re going to tell people about us. Merlin asked and I just said that it hadn’t been long, but more people are gonna ask us and we need to be on the same page about this.”

The two girls chatted about what lies to tell and just sat enjoying each other’s company until someone walked into the theatre.

“Morgana!” Arthur called from the door, startling both of them, “What are you doing in here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you set foot in the theatre, I thought Merlin was joking when he said you were here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to be paying attention to my whereabouts at all times, Arthur,” Morgana rolled her eyes and subtly reached for Wylla’s hand, “I was just here chatting with Wylla, what do you want?”

“Geoffrey is waiting for us outside, come on,” he beckoned, and Morgana sighed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, planting a long, soft kiss on Wylla’s cheek before winking and following Arthur out.

-

A couple days had passed and Wylla still hadn’t decided what to wear so she dragged Merlin and Gwen round to her house in the afternoon to help her decide, “Gwen, what are you going to wear?” she asked as she frantically looked through her wardrobe.

“I don’t know, I’ll probably just decide on the day or the night before,” Gwen admitted, and Wylla groaned, “why are you so worried about this?”

“Because Morgana is gonna look like, well, Morgana and I don’t want to look totally disappointing. We’re going to a party with some of the biggest names in business and the richest kids in our college – they’re all going to hate me for being there because I’m not rich and I don’t want to make Morgana look bad.”

“You won’t be the only person there that isn’t rich,” Gwen reminded her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder

“But at least you and Arthur are a heterosexual couple, most of Uther’s friends are homophobic bigots. They won’t be focused on you and Arthur when there’s me and Morgana to gossip about,” she sighed, running her hands through her hair.

“How about some kind of suit?” Merlin suggested, walking over to grab a red floral blazer out of her wardrobe, “what’s Morgana wearing?”

“Uh, dark green. She sent me a picture, hold on,” Wylla grabbed her phone out of her pocket and scrolled until the found the picture before passing it to Merlin.

“Okay, yeah, you’re definitely wearing that jacket,” Gwen said, excitement lacing her voice.

“I have matching trousers,” Wylla added and Gwen practically screamed, “are you trying to deafen us?”

“Sorry, sorry. Merlin, find some shoes that could go with the suit,” Gwen reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a plain white shirt before shoving it all into Wylla’s hands, “shoo, go put it on. Oh, make sure it’s inside out!” Gwen grinned as she pushed her friend into the bathroom; Wylla emerged a couple minutes later and Gwen immediately rushed over with a bunch of pins and started tapering the suit.

“What are you doing?” Wylla asked as Gwen busied herself putting pins in the suit.

“You called me to help you choose and outfit and I do textiles – I’m tailoring your suit dummie. You want to look good in front of all of the rich people? This is how you do it. You make the, what, fifty pound suit look like it cost a couple hundred, because it only fits you, not anyone who wears that size.”

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are Gwen?” Wylla laughed, and her friend smirked.

“Now would be a good time.”

“Uh, Wyl, you literally have no shoes that you can wear with this suit,” Merlin added.

“What about my black converse?” Wylla suggested.

“Let me rephrase: you have no shoes that you can wear to this event if you don’t want to look like a basic lesbian hipster,” he said, and both girls laughed, “right, what size are you?”

“Six, why?”

“I’ll be back,” was all he said before walking out, and Wylla saw him get in his car to drive off.

Merlin returned about an hour later with three pairs of heels and forced her to try each of them on, “Can we please go with the short heels? I’m gonna be shorter than Morgana anyway and I don’t wanna kill my feet if I have to stand up for hours.”

“Agreed,” Gwen chipped in, “right, go take off the suit, I’ll give it to you Friday.”

-

Days passed and finally the Pendragons’ chauffeur was driving Wylla to the party – when she arrived it was in front of huge mansion and it was Arthur who opened the car door for her, “Hey Arthur,” she greeted, and they started walking towards the front steps.

“Wylla, are you sure you’re prepared for this?” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder as the got to the front door, “The rich kids at school will be worse here, and their parents will be ten times worse than that. Geoffrey hasn’t left yet, there’s still time to go home.”

“I promised Morgana that I’d be here, I’m not backing out now,” she said, meeting his gaze as he opened the doors into the hall. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been quite as extravagant as what she could see in front of her. Even the entrance hall was bigger than her entire house, and decorated with marble and what was probably solid gold. Everyone there was staring at her, and she scanned the faces until she saw who she was looking for – the raven-haired girl in the emerald green dress. Wylla bid farewell to Arthur before walking over to where Morgana stood, eyes a little wider than usual, or was that just the makeup?

“Wow,” was all Morgana said, and Wylla grinned as she pressed a kiss to her cheek, “you-you look amazing.”

“I have Gwen to thank for all of it, thank god she knows how to tailor,” Wylla laughed nervously, looking around at the still staring faces, “I… I may be dressed up but I still feel like I don’t belong here.”

“You do. You belong here, with me,” Morgana assured her, taking her hand, “you don’t have to stay long. I just need you here long enough to be able to deny the arrangement from my father,” they stayed in the entrance hall and made small talk with whoever walked past, both of them still hand in hand; Wylla assumed that Morgana was just doing it for appearances, but to her it was comforting – an anchor in an unfamiliar environment, “do you want to go up to my room for a bit? Get away from all of these people?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Wylla breathed, still gripping Morgana’s hand as she led her up the stairs and into smaller, brighter room. She ran her hands through her hair as Morgana sat down on her bed, “how do you deal with these parties as often as you do?”

“You get used to it, I guess. I’ve been going to these parties for almost a decade now, but I still hate it.”

“People will notice that we’ve gone upstairs, how long do you think there is until word gets to Uther?” Wylla asked as she sat down next to Morgana.

“Not long, and we’re gonna have to keep up the lie… But I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with…”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we should be kissing when they walk in,” Morgana said sheepishly, and Wylla’s heart started beating faster, “my father will undoubtedly have Mr Sarrum with him, it’d help get the point across.”

“Okay,” Wylla agreed, probably quicker than she should’ve. She was about to say something else when she heard footsteps getting closer to the room; without a second thought, Wylla cupped Morgana’s face in her hands and kissed her. Morgana let out a small noise of surprise but soon melted into the kiss, pulling Wylla closer by her waist. It took more than a few moments for them to realise the door hadn’t opened and stop kissing, but their foreheads still rested together, “okay, I guess I have to say something now.”

“Say what?” Morgana asked, breathing heavily.

“I like you Morgana, I really like you, and not just as a friend. I-I don’t think I realised it before, but this whole fake girlfriend thing brought it to the surface. I just… I want to be honest with you,” Wylla had closed her eyes as she spoke, and when she finally opened them, she saw Morgana grinning with tears in her eyes, “are you okay?”

“There’s a reason I asked you to pretend to be my girlfriend, Wylla.”

“Because I’m a drama student and I’m literally doing a whole course on pretending to be something?”

“Because I think you’re really sweet, and funny, and kind… and you’re gorgeous – even more so in this suit, you’re killing my Wyl,” Morgana laughed nervously, and Wylla stroked a thumb across her cheek, “I really like you too. I asked you to be my fake girlfriend because I really want you to be my real girlfriend.”

“Are you seriously asking me out?”

“Well, if I remember correctly, we already have dinner and a movie planned, so the date is sorted. I just have to ask the question…”

“Then ask it.”

“Will you be my girlfriend? My actual girlfriend?”

“Take a wild guess, Pendragon,” Wylla grinned as she pressed her lips against Morgana’s, kissing her passionately. And then the door opened.

“Morgana!” Uther gasped loudly, the sudden noise breaking the couple apart, “What is going on here?”

“Father…” Morgana started, standing from the bed and taking a step towards Uther and the man Wylla assumed to be Mr Sarrum, “this is my girlfriend, Wylla Lionel.”

“I thought we agreed that you were going to date Will Sarrum,” Uther argued through gritted teeth, “he’s a nice young man-”

“Exactly!” Morgana exclaimed, “Young man. I told you already, I don’t like men.”

“It’s just a phase, Morgana,” Uther sighed, and Wylla tensed, clenching her fists and moving to stand beside Morgana, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

“It isn’t a phase, Mr Pendragon,” she said, “my father thought the same, he left us the day my mother decided to fight his idea of sending me to therapy to try and change what gender I love. I hate to break it to you, trying to prevent Morgana from being herself will just distance you from her, and forcing her into a relationship with a man to serve your business goals will make it worse. I love your daughter, Mr Pendragon, and nothing-” Wylla was cut off when the back of Uther’s hand made contact with her face and he grabbed the corner of her jacket.

“Get out of my house, now!” he shouted, and Wylla threw a terrified glance at a crying Morgana as someone grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room. She tried to fight it but it was pointless, she was dragged out of the house and thrown to the ground outside the house. Wylla was crouched there for a few moments, gathering her thoughts as tears fell, before she picked up her phone and dialled the first number she thought of.

“Wylla?” Merlin answered, “Aren’t you meant to be at the party?”

“Ca-can you come and pick me up, please?” she choked out, “I’m still at the house, I don’t know how to get home.”

“I’ll be there in 15, hang in there Wyl,” he said before hanging up, and he was true to his word – just shy of 15 minutes later, Merlin’s car parked up outside the gates. He rushed over to her and helped her get in the car, driving to the nearby park, “come on, you need some air,” he walked around to help her out, and they started walking through the park together, hand in hand, “do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Uther,” she muttered, “he wants Morgana to date, well, marry Will Sarrum.”

“The snobby prick from Arthur’s business class?”

“The very same – Amata Motors uses Pendragon Financing to manage their accounts, Uther wants them to be together to make sure that continues when Will takes over the business. But, of course, Morgana isn’t into guys at all so she asked me to pretend to be her girlfriend to go against Uther.”

“Wait, you’re not actually dating?” Merlin questioned, and Wylla sighed.

“Let me give you the full story first,” she said, and he nodded for her to continue as they sat down on one of the benches, “I agreed, of course, because just the idea of it was horrible. But, in the days approaching the party, I realised that I actually really like Morgana. I confessed to her, and she said that the reason she asked me to do it was because she liked me too. We were kissing when Uther walked in with Will’s father, and he got really angry. I tried to stand up for her, but he hit me and threw me out of the house. And now, I-I don’t know what he’s going to do to Morgana for not obeying him,” Wylla’s voice broke as she cried, and Merlin hugged her tightly.

“Morgana is strong, she’s really strong, I’m sure she’ll be okay,” he assured her, and then there was a shout from across the park.

“Wylla!” it was Morgana, running towards them, so Wylla got up to meet her halfway.

“Morgana,” she sighed, relieved as she embraced her girlfriend, “you’re okay. Wait,” she pulled away from the hug and held Morgana’s face in her hands, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Morgana assured her, before wincing away as Wylla touched a rapidly forming bruise on her jaw.

“He hurt you,” Wylla cried, “I’m sorry, I should’ve fought back harder, I-”

“It’s okay. We argued for a while and he hit me, but then he threw me out.”

“Oh god…”

“No, this is good,” Morgana assured her, wiping away the tears that were spilling down Wylla’s cheeks, “I have the money I inherited when my real father died, I’m finally free from Uther, and now we can be together,” Wylla let out a relieved laugh and pressed her lips against Morgana’s, tears streaming down her cheeks as they kissed. But they were happy tears, Morgana was safe and they were together – and that’s all she needed.

I really hope I got all of the warnings that I may have needed but feel free to let me know if there’s anything I missed and I’ll add it to the tags.

Happy Camelove 2021! 🥰💜💙

[ziaxkawaii]

Worth more than some perceive (Victorian!Todoroki X F!Reader) Part 2!

Part 1 Here!      Part 3 Here!

~Even when you currently had so much work on your hands, you still found yourself excited when you got to work on Shoto Todoroki's luxurious suit.

~Not only because you were always excited when you got to do a masterpiece and see the amazed or impressed look on the customer’s face, but also because this time the customer, Shoto Todoroki, was so cooperative and helpful when you asked him your usual questions.

~The icing on the cake was the fact that he respected you. He thought of you as a person and not some scum who was below him. Well, you technically were below him if you looked at both of your social statuses. But he didn't really act like all the other noblemen that visited your shop, which already made him more likable.

~Unfortunately excitement wasn't the only thing you felt during the day. Exhaustion was another thing you felt pretty often. 

~A typical morning for you and your brother was simple. You both would wake up early, put on your work attire, and then eat breakfast while you discussed the upcoming day. What garments you had to finish before the day was over or if you had any appointments booked.

~You and William were tired as ever as you both worked late last night, as you taught him how to perfect his invisible sewing stitch on tricky seams. But you enjoyed your cup of tea and crumpets with a smile nonetheless.

~You finished your breakfast and quickly swept the boutique's floor and did some last-minute cleaning of the clothing racks and fluffing up the pillows at the sitting area. Then you were finally ready to open up the boutique.

~You opened the double doors and unlocked them for the customers. Again you took the broom to sweep off any rocks or dust that might've been on the stairs. When you were satisfied, you turned back to go back into the boutique, but something hanging from the railing caught your attention.

~From the railing, a single white rose hung on a piece of string with a tiny card also hanging from the rose. You eyed the flower, confused. You walked over and untied the string from the railing and inspected the rose more closely. The stem didn't have a single thorn and the flower petals were flawless. There wasn't a single dead or a dried petal.

~Meaning it hasn't been awfully long since it was tied to the railing. You looked out at the street as if you would find the person who tied it there but you saw no one who stood out. You retreated back into the boutique and flipped the 'closed' sign over to 'open'.

~"The boutique is open." You called out to your brother who was cleaning up some papers at his desk, keeping the important papers while trashing the expired ones.

~"Was it busy outside?" He asked while he inspected some certain papers.

~"Not yet, but I found a rose tied to the railing." You said and he turned around eyebrows raised.

~"a Rose? From who?" He asked as he walked to stand in front of you. Oh, right. The card!

~"Oh, it's...." You trailed off as you looked at the card. "-To the beautiful maiden." You read the card. So it was for you? William took the card in his own fingers and read it over himself.

~"Well this is fairly interesting." He commented in thought.

~"It doesn't say who it's from." You stated the obvious, reading the card over again. "Could someone have mistaken the address?" You wondered out loud. Even if the person mistook the address, you felt your cheeks turn a shade of pink at the thought that for the first time in your life you received a rose as a gift.

~"Not sure, there are other people living here in their businesses just like we are. But the chance of a mix up with the address is pretty low." William noted and you nodded along.

~"Perhaps someone wanted to thank me with a gift for the dress or the suit I made for them." You wondered as you still gazed at the flower.

~"If that's the case then they must've been very grateful for your work." You nodded in agreement. Then a sudden idea came into your mind.

~"I'm going to put this in the boutique's sitting area for the customers to see." You announced as you bundled up your dress to run upstairs and look for a vase or something to put the rose in. You found a thin green vase that unfortunately had a small crack at the top, but you didn't mind. You filled it with water and placed the rose in and fortunately, the vase held the water in.

~You placed the vase on the side table next to the large mirror and rotated it so that the crack wasn't visible from the other directions. It looked very beautiful and you stood there for a moment in thought. For some reason, the rose reminded you of Shoto's snow-white hair. The pure white flower seemed to reflect light like his hair, and it was mesmerizing to you.

~The thought of the said male leads you to think about his suit that he ordered. You have almost finished with sewing the jacket base and basically, you only needed to add the details and accessories, which was a lot of work.

~Then a brilliant idea hit you. "Yes!" You exclaimed and ran into the backroom to finally start working.

~~~

~That one day didn't remain as the only day you would get a flower because strangely, the roses kept on appearing.

~For the past week you've gotten two more white roses with the same written card and you or William found them hanging from the railing on a string when you went to open the boutique in the morning.

~The first rose was a very sweet surprise in your mind, not that you didn't appreciate the other roses but once you saw the third rose hanging on the railing after a week had passed from when you found the first one, you started to become a tad bit wary of their meaning.

~Who would put them there? It was pretty obvious that it was the same person every time, but who? Did the person have a lover next door to you and William and just keeps on messing up the address? Because you were now becoming more and more convinced that that was the case.

~And you didn't really have a way to find out since you really don't feel like waking up in the middle of the night and wait for the mystery person to tie the rose to the railing nor did you want to knock on your neighbor's door to ask if the roses were for them...

~In the end, you came to the result that no matter what you would do, it's not gonna be worth doing it. You don't feel like your life is in danger and as long as it stays that way, you can sleep without worry.

~This morning you found no rose and you didn't really think much of it, but you did wonder if there would be one tomorrow. You and William were busy with work as you both pumped the sewing machine pedal on your respective contraptions over and over while you kept a focused eye on the needle as it pierced the fabric.

~The productive moment was interrupted as the boutique's front doorbell singled, indicating that a customer has stepped into the shop.

~"Is that your appointment?" William questioned.

~"If it is, they are 10 minutes early." You replied as you finished sewing the last ruffle and got up to dust off your dress and all and all make yourself look more presentable. You walked out to the front desk and immediately a smile made its way on your face as you recognized the people who came in.

~"Good morning Mr. Todoroki, and good morning to you too Sir." You greeted Shoto and his butler with a bright smile. His butler gave you a small bow and Shoto slightly smiled as he too greeted you while holding a big box in his hands.

~"Good morning, I hope you've been doing well." He too bowed his head slightly. He truly was nice. "I also brought the hat that I mentioned." He gestured to the box in his hold.

~"I have, thank you for asking." You replied. "You can place the box on the counter, I'm going to go and retrieve your suit, excuse me for a moment." You walked into the back room to get the suit. As you walked back out a few minutes later with a pile of clothing in your arms, you noticed Shoto eyeing the white rose that sat on the side table.

~"Pretty isn't it? I would've had two more but they died pretty quickly since I don't own any flower food." You handed him the pants, undershirt, and fully finished vest, to which you added a gold-colored chain that hung stylishly from one of the buttons to the little pocket at the front for his watch. 

~"When did you decide to get flowers? I haven't seen any here before." He inquired as he stepped behind the folding screen. For the most part, it sounded like his usual way of speaking, but something about his question almost sounded like he was amused for some reason. You quickly discarded the thought as not important.

~"It's quite an interesting story actually if you care to listen." You laughed to yourself, he hummed for you to continue. "I didn't buy the flowers, I actually found them tied with a string to the front door railing." You explained as you eyed the still snow-white rose.

~"How peculiar." He commented stepping from behind the folding screen while adjusting his shirt sleeves. "Do you know who could've placed them there?" he inquired again. You shook your head.

~"I have no clue." You admitted and again you started to tug on his clothing and brush any stray hairs off. Shoto eyed as you did the same thing as last time he visited, you caught his stare, and this time around you realized what you were doing. Blushing, you immediately retreated your hands from his body.

~"I apologize! I didn't realize what I was doing." You looked away from him. He lightly waved his hands in front of him, trying to reassure you.

~"You didn't do anything wrong, I don't mind you helping me fix my clothing."

~"Sorry, It has become a habit as a tailor." You apologized again.

~"I assure you it's alright." You nodded to him and to quickly changed the topic, you retrieved the blue jacket that was going to be the centerpiece of his whole outfit.

~"Would you like to try on the jacket?" You questioned.

~"Yes, please." You nodded and helped him put on the jacket. Once it was on you were suddenly giddy as a little girl. The jacket hugged his shoulders perfectly and the smooth royal blue suited him wonderfully. The back of the jacket reached the bend of his knees while the front was shorter, Shoto looked like a prince from a fairytale.

~"The jacket is amazing. I have never worn anything like it before." He admired himself. Almost immediately he started to inspect the left side of his chest and shoulder.

~The jacket didn't have pretty much any decorations, so the painted on pattern stood out to him a lot. He turned to look at the mirror and he could distinguish a pattern similar to a rose being painted on his chest. The curves and twists were expertly drawn so that he had to do a double-take on how it was drawn so clearly on fabric.

~He traced the gold line with his fingers in admiration. You clearly took your time at painting this rose, which only made him more fascinated.

~"How do you like it? The roses actually gave me the inspiration to add them to your jacket, the symbol of honor, passion, and many more. Even if I do say so myself, I think the rose is a nice little touch, don't you think?" You asked, a bit unsure and afraid if he liked it or not. If he didn't then it would be an EXPENSIVE mistake since you painted the pattern on. Maybe you got too excited?

~"I like it." The sentence caught you off guard.

~"You do?" You now felt more confident to step closer to him. He smiled and looked at you.

~"I do, I like it a lot actually. The pattern looks marvelous." He again admired the detail and you let yourself sigh in relief that Shoto ended up liking your work.

~"Well, I'm glad that you like it. For a minute there I thought I would have to re-do the whole jacket." You chuckled while lightly tapping your fingers over your heart as you tried to calm down your beating heart.

~"Don't think so lowly of your abilities. Your boutique does have a reputation for selling high quality and personalized garments. Someone would be a fool to think otherwise." He now fully turned towards you.

~"We do, but no matter how good of a reputation we have, it still makes me a bit nervous every time I get an order for a special gown or a suit because most customers don't expect me to do as well as my brother." Your gaze was downcast as the thought of Shoto's father came into mind. "Most people are so used to male tailors, as you probably already know." You walked to the front desk and took your notepad to start writing in it.

~"In my mind, that shouldn't matter."

~"Hm?" You turned around to listen properly.

~"One's abilities should only be judged by the result, not by stereotypes or looks." He expressed. As a businessman himself, Shoto knew how hard it was for anyone to make a difference in a big city. He also knew how only men ran the big-shot businesses, while women were most often only shrugged off as incapable of doing the same job.

~It didn't sit well with him. That people assume someone is better than the other based on looks, race, religion, gender and not to forget wealth and family name. He has met many people with huge amounts of potential that came from various backrounds, but they didn't get to show it because of how others saw them.

~Victorian age really wasn't any better under all the brilliant inventions and frilly ball gowns.

~"Well, there's little to nothing I could do about it. I can't change how others think, I can only prove to them in the end that I can do what they thought I can't." You smiled at him sweetly with a hint of tiredness, for how many times you've told that to William or yourself.

 ~Shoto went to say something but you managed to speak first. "It doesn't matter. Let's drop the subject and discuss about your hat." You obviously didn't want to talk about the matter further, so he dropped it there and agreed with your statement.

~While Shoto went to change out of his current outfit, you carefully opened the box on the counter and with delicate fingers, you fished the clean black tophat out. You only need to inspect it for a minute when inspiration comes to you as it always did.

~~~~

~”Why didn’t you go? If someone would’ve offered to take me to the theater to watch, The Abstract Thief, I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.” You inquired astounded, as you worked on Shotos hat in the boutique’s sitting area.

~The said man was seated next to you as you comfortably talked about your daily lives. The current topic that you two were discussing was how Shoto had been asked by his brother and sister to go and watch the latest and a pretty popular play, The Abstract Thief. 

~Stangely you and Shoto spend a lot of time together nowadays. You asked him about it and he admitted that he would like to spend as much time outside of his home as he could, as he did not enjoy being around his father. 

~You understood his explanation and didn’t question him after that. From there, you two started talking a lot about various topics while you worked at the same time. The boutique was mostly empty most of the times he was visiting, so it wasn’t a problem for you to sew a bow or organize the shelves while talking.

~You enjoyed Shotos company, and you could tell he did too enjoy yours.

~”I don't really care for plays. Most of the time, massive sections and plots of the book are cut off when made into a play. I think it’s more enjoyable when the whole story is being told rather than just the main plot.” He explained as he spared a look at your hands and the hat that you were oh so delicately working on.

~You have painted a rose with gold paint on the side of the hat, much like how you did his jacket, and now you were just adding some finishing touches to it.

~”I suppose you’re right, but it still was a chance for you to spend time with your family.” You reminded him. You haven’t heard him talk about his siblings much, but you presumed he does care for them a lot.

~”I don’t see how that would be any fun. You can not talk during the performance.” You wanted to almost slap your forehead. The more time you spend with Shoto, the more you’ve come to realize that sometimes he isn’t really that good at picking up social cues.

~”It’s the thought that’s important.” You expressed. “They just want to spend time with you. Even if you can’t talk, it’s nice that you’re there with them.”

~He held his chin in thought. “I have never thought about it that way.” He admitted.

~”Honestly…” You breathed out. You placed the last detail on the hat and lifted up the finished product, inspecting it with sharp eyes. You wanted it to be perfect.

~”It’s finished, do you like it?” You offered the hat to him and he took it from your hands looking over the paint job himself, nodding in approval.

~”Yes, I like it.”

~”Okay, then that means your whole suit is now finished.” You stood up from the couch and started to clean up all your tools from the side table and brought them to the backroom before emerging back out along with his suit.

~”I’ll just pack these up for you really quick.” You said as you pulled out two boxes and white tissue paper to neatly pack the clothes and the hat in so they would make it home safely. You placed the lids on each box and tied them with a green ribbon to top it off.

~You pushed the boxes forward announcing how much money Shoto needed to pay. Shotos butler, whose existence you always somehow forget, took the boxes while Shoto paid the rest 50% of the suit since the first 50 was paid right in the beginning.

~”Thank you for coming, I hope to see you again.” You said your usual line naturally, and Shoto let a small smile tug at the corners of his lips as he turned to leave.

~”That time will arrive sooner than you might think.” You blinked at him in confusion.

~”What do you mean?” You questioned curiously.

~”I’d like to ask you for another commission.” He answered.

~”Wow, have I suddenly become your favorite tailor?” You have no idea why or where you pulled that joke from, but right after you said it Shoto immediately answered back.

~”Yes, actually.” Ok, you weren’t expecting that response…

~”Oh, r-really? Thank you!” You said in shock but also in appreciation. 

~”Let’s discuss it on another day. I will come and stop by.” He promised and lightly waved his hand in a goodbye.

~”See you then!” You called to him along with your own wave goodbye, before he finally exited the boutique. You heaved out a sigh, still in a slight haze from his compliment as you walked into the backroom to see William sitting at his desk, sewing buttons to a vest.

~”How did it go? Did you have fun chatting away with him?” William asked with a teasing tone as he kept on working.

~”Oh hush! You know it’s nothing like that, I just enjoy talking to him since I rarely get to talk to other people other than you.” You said as you went over to your desk to go look over your planner.

~”Whatever you say, sister.” He said in the same tone, but you didn’t comment on it. Shoto would surely never think of you that way. 

~You slightly saddened at the fact and your chest ached a little, but then you remembered the white roses that to this day you have been receiving, still not knowing the identity of the person leaving them there. You glanced over to the main side and eyed the new white roses that sat in the cracked vase.

~But someone might...

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt81

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

As soon as the portal closed behind them Chloe and Luka dropped their transformations. Marinette was once again piggybacking Chloe as they turned to look at Tikki and the other Kwami. She hadn't wanted to transform again because she wasn’t certain what Tikki had done and was worried the other four would disappear along with her. She couldn’t afford to have the League members find out if they were just temporary, and she had no way to ask Tikki with them all there.

“You couldn’t have given me some type of heads up or warning?” It was so strange talking to Tikki while she was in human form. It also hadn’t escaped her that all five of the Kwami were in her designs and she wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or if Tikki had just picked the first things that had come to mind.

“I’m sorry Marinette. I’m tired of watching them treat you like that and I had to do something. I was going to discuss this with you to see if you were okay with it but I really do think you could use the extra help and they volunteered.” So not temporary then, that would require some serious thought. “As I said Plagg can destroy their bodies so if you don’t want to keep them here it’s an easy fix.”

“It’s not that.” Marinette just sighed. This was just one more complication that she really didn’t know how to deal with at this point. “They’ll need identities, papers, and I have no idea how to go about getting those. I’ll need to look for a much bigger place than I was thinking and I’m not sure I can afford that yet and be able to renovate it for wheelchair access as well. Not to mention-” She cut off as Damian shoved his phone in her face. She’d noticed him on it but assumed he was trying to calm down his family. On the screen was a huge house not too far from her current school.

“What do you think of this?” She could only blink at the screen for a moment before she grabbed the phone to get it at a better distance so she could read it properly. It wasn’t a house either, it was a freaking mansion. Twelve bedrooms, fourteen bathrooms, two kitchens for crying out loud, and that wasn’t counting the guest house, or groundskeepers house or whatever it was. It was three stories plus a basement but it did have an elevator. Then she looked at the price.

“Damian there’s no way I can afford that right now, and honestly it’s probably too big.” He was shaking his head before she’d even finished.

“You don’t need to afford it. Since I’m staying here for the foreseeable future I need a more permanent residence that lives up to the Wayne name and can house whatever family members happen to show up. If it happens that when I end up leaving Paris you like it and can afford it you can buy it from my father, but until then since you’re such a ‘good influence’ on me he thinks us staying in the same residence will be beneficial to the both of us. And don’t worry about documentation for your new friends, Alfred is already preparing everything.”

She could only stare at him. He’d said everything in such a matter of fact tone, as though her answer were a foregone conclusion. She wanted to be annoyed with him but she knew it was his way of showing support and caring. She looked back at the phone and really looked at the pictures. The front entrance didn’t have steps and there were at least two bedrooms on the first floor. Even with the elevator she’d rather not have to be dependent on it in case of repairs or power outages. It could work.

“Fine, but I’m paying for any renovations that need to be made for me. And I’m paying rent since there will be five of us living there and I have a feeling Chloe will be there more often than not.” Damian just raised an eyebrow at her.

“I can tell my father that but he won’t listen. This won’t be a drain on our resources at all and he’ll want you to save for your future. I will try to talk to him though.” That sounded about right. When you have money to just throw at a problem you don’t necessarily consider how other people will see it. Damian was tapping away on his phone again and frowning in annoyance.

“He says if it will make you feel better about it you can be the family designer and instead of rent comp the materials. Sadly enough that probably will work out about right given how many of us there are.” She blinked at that. Sure, the materials wouldn’t be cheap but the exposure she’d get from the Waynes wearing her designs exclusively would far outweigh the cost. Damian was now scowling at his phone. “He also wants to see if you’d be willing to work with our R&D department to make materials for protection that can be put into all sorts of clothing. We actually commissioned you for suits with Kevlar once and he was very impressed with both the utility and design.”

“I remember those. It was a fun challenge if a rather odd request. Granted I didn’t think it was too strange given the amount of people in the public eye that get attacked.” But could she really just let Bruce Wayne pay for her housing like this? Wouldn’t people talk? It could hurt his reputation to be housing a teenager. At best they would think he was keeping his son happy by keeping his girlfriend close, at worst… she didn’t even want to think about it.

“He also wants to circulate a story that you were attacked after you revealed yourself as the designer behind Functional Fashion and that’s how you were paralyzed. Between that and having you actually work with Wayne Enterprises it would make sense that we would be concerned about your safety enough to house you in a secure location.” But would it?

“What if my parents technically lived there as well? Maybe even in the guest house or whatever. They wouldn’t be there much because of the bakery but I think it would help with the public image if they were part of it as well.” She didn’t realize until she said it that it meant she was agreeing to this plan. Given the satisfied look on Damian’s face he realized it too.

“And we can have the Kwami make appearances as your staff. Digg would obviously be a bodyguard. Primm looks more like a customer service type or receptionist, and Jett perhaps something with design or tailoring? They don’t have to actually do anything but if the press thinks they’re living at the house because that’s your base of operations it would help. Lyccen…” He seemed at a loss for the Kwami of Anarchy. Granted they could change her look if they had to but she had a feeling Tikki had chosen their attire for a reason.

“Personal assistant. The way people view the disabled everyone will assume my having someone with me all the time to help with things is completely normal.” As much as she hated to say it, it was true. If she could afford to pay someone to help her with normal day to day tasks that were ‘harder’ in a wheelchair no one would question it. Especially since she’d only just lost the use of her legs. As much as she wanted to be independent she could see the use of having a ruse in place to make it seem like she wasn’t. “But how do you plan to get around the fact that there was no police report? Or hospital stay for that matter?” It was a problem she’d been trying to figure out herself. How was she just supposed to show back up paralyzed when she had absolutely no explanation or proof for what happened.

“My father invited you to Gotham to talk about this collaboration and you were attacked there. We are very private and prefer to deal with things in house so it won’t be hard for him to convince the Commissioner to make a report after the fact. We can falsify medical and travel records easily enough.” It was amazing how much morally gray area there was when all you’re doing is trying to save the world.

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[quillyfied]

Fanfic Writer 20 Questions

tagged by @shakespearevillain! Much thanks!

My AO3, because that's the only link I have the energy to provide, folks :P

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

135, according to the internet. That seems like a lot.

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

957,125. Oh heck guys that's not too far off from a truly staggering number that I can't process XD

3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Um...thirteen, if you take out the duplicates. In order of content, it's Homestuck, Good Omens, Dice Camera Action, The Adventure Zone, Avatar: Legend of Korra, Twilight, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Powerpuff Girls, Red vs Blue, Sherlock BBC, Avengers, Pokemon Sun and Moon, and Harry Potter. Mind, this is just what's posted on AO3...though even the stuff that's not on AO3 and never will be is mostly here. I think there's some various anime fandoms that got some stuff. Maybe some Phineas and Ferb, some Kick Buttowski.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

Let's see...

1. Snake Children, or Snildren, (Good Omens, Wiggleverse)

2. Snake Cottage, or Snottage, (Good Omens, Wiggleverse

3. Comfort and Joy (Good Omens, Wiggleverse collab with OlwenDylluan)

4. running into the sun (but i'm running behind) (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

5. Broken Crowns (Homestuck)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

I try to! Don't always succeed or have the spoons, but especially sweet or thoughtful comments I try to give some semblance of response to. I cherish every single comment, even if I don't always respond.

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Ha. Um. Probably "Ashes", a Twilight fic from Marcus' point of view about losing Didyme. Entirely canon-compliant and canon-driven, which is probably why it ends so sadly. If we're talking off AO3, I'd have to go digging and I have no such time.

7. do you write crossovers?

No, not really; I've done it by very special occasional request. Of course, you have to define a crossover these days, bc to me, a crossover is shoving two fandoms in the same space and making them interact with each other, but some people tag their AU fanfics as crossovers when it's just "insert characters from fandom A into world of fandom B" and that's...not a crossover. That's an AU. Regardless: no. I don't write these.

8. have you ever received hate on a fic?

Kinda? Had one comment where someone said "i am going to kill you" and that's it so I had no context for if it was a playful jest or a statement of intent and I reacted as if it were the second XD (Also had one fic where the story didn't turn out how a reader was expecting and my collaborator and I knew from their comments that they probably weren't going to like what was coming up and they didn't, and there was some small bit of friction over it, but that wasn't really hate.)

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

No.

10. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Kinda? I had someone post a fic from forums/deviantART to FFN because I was young and thought I needed parental permission to make an FFN account (which I did not have, dad said no) and I had a reader who insisted the FFN crowd needed to read it and started posting it without my permission, but they didn't say it was mine until the author's note at the very end of the last chapter; at that point I finally had made an FFN account on my own and tried to insist the poster take it down since I was there now and could post it myself but they didn't reply. I reported it on FFN but nothing was ever done about it and the poster never replied to my messages. Far as I know it might still be there and I'm resigned to it.

11. have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! Would be cool, but I'm not holding my breath XD

12. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Oh yeah, all the time now!

13. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh boy. Coming from a veteran shipper, this is quite the question. Naruto/Hinata (from Naruto) and Toph/Sokka (from Avatar: The Last Airbender) were my first big OTPs and I will always love them and have a special place in my heart for them. But I don't know if I can pick a FAVORITE. All my ships are precious.

14. whats a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I wish I could have finished Broken Crowns and its prequel (and maybe the possible sequel I was toying with). That was a fun experiment in flying by the seat of my pants, and the first thing I've ever written that was so big it broke Spellcheck, but ultimately falling out of the Homestuck fandom and losing interest in the project were the death of it. I'm glad I was able to provide a "here's where this was going" chapter, at least, so many fics that fall by the wayside don't get that and it's such a great thing to do for readers.

15. what are your writing strengths?

I think I'm best at character voices and dialogue, and maybe the occasional witty turn of phrase. Also technical polish; sure, my plots are contrived and the characterization might be dodgy but by gum at least my commas are mostly in the right spots and everything is spelled correctly XD (Given that as a reader grammatical errors are what throw me off and distract and irritate me most, I think my own writing evolved to not distract myself with that, at least.)

16. what are your writing weaknesses?

Oh, boy. Settings, I think. Describing settings. And finishing long-form work that's in any way original. Long fic based off another story/movie/whatever? Easy peasy, got an outline all ready to go and tailor-made. Long fic based off my own random ideas? Um...help??

17. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

Since I only know one of them, I am scared stiff to try it XD Google translate can only take you so far.

18. what was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Very, very first? Probably either Disney or Luigi's Mansion. Published on the internet? Harry Potter.

19. what’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh, gosh. I have such love in my heart for many of my own works, which is pleasant and comforting and a nice change from visceral self-loathing, but if I had to pick a few (because heck no I can't just pick one)...the Sherlockbound series I wrote for Homestuck, "i have loved the stars too fondly" for The Adventure Zone: Balance, Suboptimal Omens for DCA, and probably a million oneshots along the way that have helped me work things out and figure myself out as an artist and as a person.

20. who do you tag?

I tag anyone who's looking at this and thinking "gosh, that would be fun." You can even tag me in the post. Blanket permission. Do it!

[cynwritess]

My Outlining Technique As A Pantser

I despise outlining with every fiber of my soul. I don’t care how much people persist you need an outline, I will put it off to the very last minute and do it very half-assed. Even in school, its straight to the first draft. Outlining requires a very precise skill of breaking things down as small as possible and my mind simply does not function that way. It’s literally all or nothing. Unfortunately while this may work for writing school essays, it’s not exactly a good idea when it comes to a book. Writing a book requires structure and precision because you need to carefully place information, have an idea where your characters are going, tedious yet necessary things. Fortunately, I’ve come up with a way to outline without completely frying my brain.

Characters. 

I almost always start with the characters first and build the world, other characters, and plot around them. If you have a name in mine, perfect! Go ahead and use it! If you don’t have a name, don’t dread scouring through dozens of baby name websites. Give them a place holder name or better yet, give them a role/title. I’m going to use one of my current characters (steal anything about her and I’ll send demons after you). When I first created Selina I only had a vague aesthetic and the idea that I wanted her to somehow be attached to spirits. Her name didn’t come to me until 25k into the story, but I had to refer to her as something so I used a conjunction of a place holder name and calling her “Reaper of Souls”. This way I know exactly who I’m referring to. Also, this helps me know what path my character needs to go down. Reaper of Souls is who she’ll become, but its definitely not who she is when the story begins. It makes me thing: What steps do I need to take to get her there? This is where you can start brainstorming character arcs and give them trauma. 

Another essential part of creating characters in my opinion is giving them “role models”. Personally, if this is a brand new character I’m creating off the top of my head its hard to write them because I know nothing about them. I don’t know their sense of humor, who they would and wouldn’t get along with, their inner monologue, etc. Now you have to be careful with this and make sure to mold them into their own unique characters at the end of the day, but you can use other already existing characters to help begin the process. When creating Selina I knew vaguely she needed to be connected to spirits. What characters do I know like that? Jodie from Beyond Two Souls is a good one and Zelie is a bit of a different twist to it but still the same general idea. But wait! Selina’s vibe doesn’t match either of them. So in this case I might look at Jude Duarte for inspiration for her personality. Nitpick all your favorite things about different characters and use that to your advantage! It gives you the jolt you need to really begin to explore who your character is. 

Always do the main character first, then follow with the supporting character or villain. In my opinion, the main supporting character and villain should be foils of the main character in order to get the most out of each one, because you’ll be able to see different aspects and different arcs they could’ve/will have. Once you have those three characters you can create the others as you progress with your story.

Setting.

This can either be really simple or your worst fucking nightmare. For me, it’s a mixture of both. If your story is taking place in the real world then this can be relatively simple even if you’re creating your own town/city. If your town has a very specific location like a town square or maybe there’s a river running through it, then just google “towns with a river going through it” for a start. If you have a specific town in mind you can also google the map and start dissecting different aspects of the town and incorporating it into your own. You can even use your own town for inspiration! The town my story takes place in is made up, but my hometown actually resembles it quite a bit so I’ve been using it for references. So far, its been working out pretty good.

Now if you have a high fantasy setting... I wish you the best of luck. I’ve only written one high fantasy story when I was twelve and... well clearly its never seen the light of day for a reason (partially because I deleted it, partially because there was absolutely zero world-building). I’m sorry to say my skills have no improved much since then. I’ve dabbled with the idea of high fantasy worlds and honestly my only advice is to look at other fantasy maps and draw inspiration from that. Narnia, Ravka, the ACOTAR world, the shifting isles of Elfhame, the Avatar universe, Orisha, to name a few. You’ll also have to look at some basic geographical stuff like the climate, but overall you have pretty much free reign over how your world looks. This is the one part I feel like you can’t bullshit if you don’t want your story to seem halfway. Really go in with the details even if its just for you. The more fleshed out your world is, even if its set here in the normal world, the better.

The main issue. 

This is pretty much a given but you do need to have some sort of idea who the main antagonist is/what is the big issue your characters are fighting. If you’re writing a series then chances are book one will probably focus on an entirely different issue before the big one is revealed. There’s not really much advice I can give for this because it’ll be tailored specifically to your story. I don’t think your antagonist has to be fully fleshed out if you’re going to be introducing them very late, but do have a general idea who or what it is, their goal, and why your character feels the need to stop them.

Usually you’ll notice the problem in the beginning of the story isn’t the ultimate problem, its just a gateway to it. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a subplot but I guess technically that’s what it is. Think of Percy Jackson. The main issue of book one is him being accused of stealing the lightning bolt, but the ultimate issue was the war with the titans. Or The Cruel Prince. The main issue was Jude feeling helpless and wanting to create a place for herself in the faery world, but the ultimate issue was those attempting overthrowing the entire Greenbriar family from the thrown. 

This kind of goes without saying, but there has to be a strong motivation for the character to stop them or it just won’t work. You don’t see characters going after the antagonist because nothing in their life isn’t threatened. There’s always a motivation, something to fuel them even if done so reluctantly. For example, Zelie from Children of Blood and Bone was sick and tired of constantly fighting and being the hero, but she did it anyways because she was the only one who could truly help the maji. Or you can take a slightly antagonistic approach and look at Kaz from Six of Crows who did what he did out of greed for money, power, and revenge. Usually when I begin my stories, I only have a vague idea as to why my main character is joining the fight, which is perfectly fine. As long as you have some sort of idea and begin to build on it as you write, you’ll be probably be fine. 

Brainstorm.

I cannot for the life of me sit in front of my computer and write a bland summary of what it is that is going to happen in my book. Sorry, but I am simply not built that way but it also makes writing your books ten times harder as well. I’ve found a bit of a cheat. For one, brainstorm. Get a general idea what some of the main events you want to happen are. Do you want a character death? Does a specific location need to be mentioned? Is there subplots or character arcs you would like to explore? Is there any themes you’d like to explore? Jot them all down, along with your word count goal. You probably won’t be able to incorporate all of them in one book, but at least you’ll have an idea what path you’re going to head down in terms of your story.

And now onto my actual cheat. Because I’m a pantser who hates outlining, I usually jump into my stories without knowing what direction they are going. Recently I’ve discovered that I can outline the first five chapters, write them out, and give myself complete free reign. I’ll explore all sorts of character personalities, different beginnings, different writing styles, different scenarios, different relationships, anything I can realistically include in the first five chapters of my story. Then I’ll go back and edit it. Don’t completely delete anything, always save it in a separate file! I’ll go back and decide which characters are unnecessary at this point, what plot points can be introduced later on, what writing style suits this story, things like that. Then from there, I’ll go back to my outline and make any appropriate changes before proceeding to write the rest of the draft as normal (WITHOUT GOING BACK TO EDIT). The reason why I do this is because I need a solid base to begin my story, otherwise its so easy for me to go off track and begin to tell a completely different story. This way I’ll know exactly what I’m going after, I’ll be able to explore and get to know my characters and setting, and it’s enough chapters that I can even begin to incorporate the main issue at hand. 

[2ofswords]

top 5: plays, words, chapters/fics you wrote,items of clothing you own, ships

That’s... a lot of questions. I’ll try...

Let’s talk theater!!!

Okay, for he first one… Are we talking written plays or shows? Because there are…. Very different answers there. I’ll just include both since a lot of my favorite theatre productions are not about specific texts. (I just like a lot of them so much and want to mention them!) Also note: I live in Germany and study German literature with a focus on theatre so there will be a lot of that.

5. Die Winterreise written by Elfriede Jelinek This one is actually about the text. I guess it is not the most provocative work from Jelinek but… the themes man… the themes. The whole “passing of time” and the sadness of it. It kind of goes through all seven stages of grief about it and… well it’s Jelinek so there is much more. The whole part about the lost father near the end that just goes on forever and doesn’t stop and it is so bleak and also melancholic and full of love that cannot be properly expressed an… god. Also the first page of this text is one of my favorite written pieces of… anything really. Sometimes I just read it to… read it. This play also started my interest in theatre studies! I wrote an essay about it out of spite! I was just really annoyed by everyone calling it autobiographical (which to be fair: it absolutely is) and basing the narrator only on Jelinek’s own life when the whole narration has her style of deliberate vagueness and can be applied a whole lot more interesting. But people only relying of autobiography aspects is a pet peeve in literature studies I have in general. (Yes, I am looking at you, people who cannot shut up about Franz Kafka’s father!!)

4. Kill your Darlings by René Pollesch I have to go with one Pollesch play and while I also really liked Probleme Probleme Probleme, this one just has some banger sentences and also an octopus costume. Which is all I ever needed in a theatre production.

3. Ibsen: Peer Gynt by Markus&Markus This one is not a written script but a play. And it’s a really interesting one. It follows a group of performance artists who spend a summer with a man who has dementia and they are trying to make a play about Peer Gynt from Ibsen with him as the main role. It is part of a series trying to find the characters Ibsen writes about in our time and this is the last part of the trilogy and… it really hits. It’s just… super interesting and the plot twist is… Good. There seems to be some debate around the play and the group in general (and I actually have seen one other play from them that I really didn’t like) but this one is genius and I think it handles the discussion with a lot of dignity. Also the connections to the actual source is super interesting. There are a lot of really amazing monologues in there too!

2. Les Robots ne connecaint pas le blues oder Die Entführung aus dem Serail by Gintersdorfer/Klaßen God… this one is so good! Sadly this is another one that was played by the group and cannot be seen anymore. But god… it’s a masterpiece! It’s an analysis of the opera “Die Entführung aus dem Serail” and applies a lot of postcolonial theory, queer studies, gender studies and just… personal experiences and viewpoints. It’s thorough, it has an amazing aesthetic, an entire opera orchestra and a Coupé-décalé dance-off… It’s just a blast and so fucking clever! I really love the analysis and style of Gintersdorfer/Klaßen in general and can really recommend the group!

1. Draußen vor der Tür (The man Outside) by Wolfgang Borchert Surprising absolutely nobody. This is definitely the play I loved most through school years. But let’s be honest here: It’s mainly number one because I made my own production of it with one of my university’s theatre groups and that was – no exaggeration – the best time of my life. The magical semester I had. It’s also really good and really sad though.

The other lists are under the cut because this post is getting too long!

Okay, what’s next. Words?

Uuuuuuh. I like words. I don’t really have… specific ones I love… Uuuuuuuummmm…. I’m going with German here. There is also some great English ones but… I know more words in German… Sorry… The other lists are written in English again!!

5. erwidert mein Lieblingswort, um “sagen” auszuweichen direct nach “fragt“ und „antwortet“. Erwiderungen geben einfach recht viel Dynamik in die Sache hinein und strukturieren Dialoge. Yay!!

4. jetzt Um… ich weiß, man soll keine Füllwörter benutzen… Aber an die Regel habe ich mich noch nie gehalten? Ich mag meinen Sprachrhythmus? Und „jetzt“ ist einfach super praktisch, wenn man eine zusätzliche Silbe braucht, aber einen schnellen Sprachfluss erzeugen will. Es setzt ein bisschen druck in den Satz und lässt sich dabei sehr schnell sprechen. Außerdem eignet es sich auch sehr gut, damit wörtliche Rede ein bisschen umgangssprachlicher klingt, ohne besonders umständlich zu sein. „Was machen wir denn jetzt?“ „Das kannst du jetzt echt nicht ernst meinen!“ „Ich habe jetzt aber wirklich genug von euch!“ Fun stuff.

3. demnach Ich hoffe niemand hier hat irgendwelche großen oder interessanten Worte erwartet… Das hier ist ein Hausarbeits-Wort! Argumente! Sie lassen sich zusammenführen! Und man kann dieses eine Wort benutzen, um von einem Punkt zum nächsten zu kommen! Es ist ein Wunder! Um ehrlich zu sein, bevorzuge ich es, dafür „in diesem Sinne“ zu benutzen, aber das ist kein einzelnes Wort.

2. Enzensbergerexegetenschelte I… am out of words: Aber hier ist ein wort, dass den Buchstaben „e“ ganze zehn Mal beinhaltet und in einem lustigen Gedicht vorkommt.

1. Oh.

 Okay, about my own fics:

I rarely revisit my fics so I will just see where my gut feeling takes me. Also if I talk chapters, I will only include one chapter by fic, so that this list doesn’t become my favorite Blank Rune Chapters.

5 Shenanigans by the sea (Pathologic Fanfiction) It’s so silly but also so happy and genuinely one of my best pieces of writing! Definitelly one of my better Pathologic fanfictions and what can I say? I like to write scenes with a lot of characters that I can switch around. It was super fun! Also lifeguard Saburov is still one of the best ideas I ever used for anything.

4 “Durchführung” in Nur ein Spiel („Execution“ in Just a Game? – Hungergames Fanfiction) Another chapter of my hunger games fanfiction and… well it’s one of the most memorable I would say. I remember that I absolutely loathed writing it because my personal favorite character died and also the favorite character of my best friend but… worth it tbh. The whole love confession in it is also…. Cheffs kiss.

3 How to play. A dramatic text in three acts (Pathologic Fanfiction) I think this is the best Pathologic fanfiction I wrote. It’s just… I can’t help but love it and it’s one of the very few pieces I actually reread from time to time. I love the wordplay in this one and I really love how it mirrors some more abstract forms of theatre and… I don’t know I just think it’s one of the few times I managed to write something really smart.

2 The Last Gebo-Chapter in The Blank Rune (Hungergames Fanfiction) It’s short but… I think it hits. Don’t even think it’s the best chapter from a technical view and also… not the one that hurts the most but… It has the exact sweetspot of hurt and loving it and I worked a long time to finally get to a point in the story where I was able to write it. Also that fucking last sentence…. It symbolizes a lot of what I wanted to do with Blank Rune.

1 Das Glasperlenhaus (The Marbles‘ Shed – Original Work) It’s short story of mine an I really really love it! It’s actually hard to say what it is about but I wrote it for a competition that had the theme “Haunted House”. I guess it’s about some guy who visit’s a pretty weird small house next to a park and how that house affects his life. And also there are a lot of marbles that get knotted into a string and I guess that is metaphor for life and death or something.

 Items of clothing I own

Oh! I have a lot that I really like!!

5 The one black dress with the flower ornaments!! It’s just so… insanely pretty! It’s more for special occasions and I need to be in the mood for wearing it but man… makes me feel very fancy and fairy like.

4 All of my woolen socks! They. Are. So. Warm! And my feet are very cold. Bonus points if at one point they got extended and now have completely different types of wool attached to them? I don’t know, I really love that!

3 The one grey jacket, that kinda looks like a biker jacket where the person who made it didn’t get the memo, that these are supposed to be made out of leather. It’s just a wacky item and still very much my style and very comfy. Also I need another leather jacket, my old of kind of… faded into nonexistence…

2 The blue outdoor jacket that kind of looks like one of the cloaks in kingdom hearts but some fool painted it dark blue and so it got thrown out of the world that never was and directly into… a tom tailor outlet store I guess Ummm… Much nostalgia, I guess? Also it has some fluffy clothing parts an is super warm and comfy…

1 … my binder Not really an explanation needed, huh… Just when binder days are there it’s amazing to have it and I feel awesome wearing mine.

 Ships

5-1 Evergreen’s Ever Given