#I wanted to keep most of it even in their post-fire designs

[hexcii]

My dress up dolls ☀️🌙

The jester pants and ribbons stay ON. It’s part of the appeal

This is mostly just an FBD reference for me but eh might as well post it here too. I’ll probably draw the dca in other outfits here and there but I’ll be defaulting to these most of the time, I like putting them in silly lil outfits hehehehe

Idk who was the first with the “DCA as teachers” idea but I absolutely love it, it just makes so much sense to me. Get apron’d

[astrolook]

Venus in the houses

Venus in the 1st House : Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the most fabulous of all ? It's Me.

You’ve never met a filter you didn’t like.

Love at first sight? You’re basically an app for it.

Getting married? You’re the whole package—gift wrapped in glamour.

You can make a paper bag look like haute couture.

Open to plastic surgery/beauty enhancement procedures.

Venus in the 2nd House : I’m just financially fabulous.

You’re a walking manifestation of “treat yourself.”

Your idea of a “fun investment” is high-end makeup.

Money may not buy happiness, but it buys a killer wardrobe.

Cosmetic collection? It’s more of a museum at this point.

You could turn a thrift store into a designer boutique.

Venus in the 3rd House : Talk to me. I make every word sound like gold.

Beauty tips? You pass them on like life-changing wisdom.

Makeup is optional, but your smile is mandatory.

Takes 25 pictures to make sure whether you look good in a selfie.

You could make an IKEA instruction manual sound like Shakespeare. You’re not just talking, you’re seducing with your words.

Love letters are basically your second language.

Venus in the 4th House : Home is where the luxury is, and so am I.

Probably have a Pinterest account with luxury home décor pins.

You take pictures like you are in for a Vogue photoshoot.

Your partner requirement: must appreciate candlelit dinners and spontaneous home makeovers.

Your family is either all-in for gourmet meals or leaving the house for takeout.

Your house plants probably have their own Instagram.

Venus in the 5th House: I don’t just fall in love, I make it a production.

You don’t “date,” you audition for the role of soulmate.

Your flirt game is so strong, even Siri has a crush on you.

Your idea of a “low-key evening” involves five outfit changes and a selfie.

Your idea of “casual” is wearing heels to the grocery store.

You don’t “catch feelings,” you produce them—like a movie sequel no one asked for.

Venus in the 6th House : Effortlessly fabulous, even while folding laundry.

You love self-care—so much that it’s practically a ritual.

Probably post pictures of their prepped meals on Instagram.

Your health routine involves pampering, not sweating.

You’ll never date someone who doesn’t have their life together (including their laundry).

You attract people with cleanliness, not just your charm (but mostly your charm).

Venus in the 7th House: I’m not picky, I just attract perfection in love.

You attract love like it’s the latest fashion trend.

Kind of partner? You wrote the manual on that.

Love is art, and you’re the masterpiece.

Your soulmate better have their life together, including an emergency fund and excellent taste in movies.

Your relationship advice is as chic as your wardrobe.

Venus in the 8th House: I love deeply… and live luxuriously in the process.

You’ve got that “rich in mystery” vibe going on.

Your partner could be wealthier than you.

Your love life is so intense, it might need a fire extinguisher.

You don’t just fall in love—you plunge.

You’re basically a passionate volcano of emotions.

Venus in the 9th House : I’m off to discover the world… and look fabulous doing it.

You fall in love like you fall in love with new cultures or people of other nationalities.

Your idea of romance? Passport, plane ticket, and luxury.

You’re not just looking for a lover; you need a travel buddy with a PhD.

If they can’t keep up with your wanderlust, you’ll probably ghost them at the airport.

Your ideal partner? Someone who can read Kant and order food in French.

Venus in the 10th House: Looking for a partner? Better come with a résumé.

You don’t date; you network—and maybe fall in love later.

Your ideal relationship is as high profile as your LinkedIn.

You’re not here for a fling—you want a power couple partnership.

If love’s a game, I’m playing to win.

Could meet your partner through your job.

Venus in the 11th House: Looking for love—must like my friends (they come first).

You need someone who shares your love of weird hobbies and social causes, or else it’s a deal-breaker.

You’re not falling in love, you’re curating your social circle... one date at a time.

Relationships for you? They're like your social media feed—always with a “#couplegoals” vibe.

Follows skin and hair care or hair style tutorials on YouTube.

90 percent of your google searches would be "how to make your hair grow faster", "best products for glowing skin",etc

Venus in the 12th House: Can’t love you if I haven’t analyzed my dreams first.

You don’t date—you swoon from afar in secret, like a true romantic introvert.

Probably have some skin and food allergies.

You fall for someone and then ghost yourself—the ultimate Venus in the 12th move.

You only fall for people who don’t even know they’re in love with you yet.

Your idea of a date? Talking about your past lives—or maybe just your weirdest dreams.

Love is like a hidden treasure—you’ll find it, but only if you’re deep enough in your feelings (or your journal that you don't show it to anyone).

So whether you're romancing in secret, hosting a business meeting disguised as a date, or curating your perfect Instagram-worthy love life, remember: Venus is just here to make it fabulous. Just don't forget to bring the skincare, Wi-Fi, and maybe a Google search or two. Keep shining, keep loving, and keep being your amazing, quirky self—Venus has got your back!

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 1

I catch a glimpse of the pilot as she is wheeled towards the med bay. Her eyes have that telltale glaze of just having been wrenched out of herself.

I've never spoken a single word to her, but for a moment as the gurney slides by, those eyes briefly clear, ice blue pinning me to the spot. She raises an emaciated arm and her hand almost seems to beckon to me before something in the gurney clicks and whirs and she slips back into catatonia.

That brief moment of clarity, that piercing gaze, unsettles me. She recognized me.

It's neural bleed. I know it has to be. She doesn't know me, but Morrigan does.

Good god. In the pilot's present state of post combat haze, she probably doesn't even know where she ends and the machine begins.

Does neural bleed work both ways? Is it her head that I'm about to climb into?

My wrist strap buzzes. I have a job to do and I am late.

The pilot is a problem for the med team and the psychs.

The machine is my problem.

I hurry down the corridor, keeping my head down, avoiding the eyes of every passerby.

I don't like people.

I don't like how their eyes follow me. I don't like the whispered gossip that follows me.

One of the techs is waiting for me at the vestibule.

I don't know his name.

All clear, he says to me. Time to work your magic.

He says it without sarcasm. Others have been less kind.

Even so, he can't quite hide the leer as I strip down to the skinsuit. I don't have the physique of a pilot. My body hasn't been subjected to the stresses that ravage their bodies. Unlike them, I have fat and muscle and the skinsuit clings to every curve of my body.

I force a cursory smile and try to forget him as I walk barefoot to my destination.

The vestibule is small, windowless. It's impossible to assess the scale of the machine from here. The only part visible to me is roughly four square meters of pitted and scarred metal plating framing the access hatch and the pilot's cradle beyond.

B0-987T the stenciled lettering reads. And below, in flowing script, is “The Morrigan”.

She's a Javellin class, medium weapons fire support unit. She isn't meant to be on the front lines in a skirmish, but one-on-one, she can hold her own against a Wraith. Which is exactly what happened only a few hours ago.

I place a bare palm on the bulkhead. She thrums with some distant vibration. Her reactor is still online, still in the early stages of drawdown as she transitions to dock power.

“Hey beautiful,” I say to her.

I think of the pilot. I think of piercing blue eyes and I think of neural bleed.

I flinch my hand away.

The tech looks at me, asks if I'm alright. I'm fine, I tell him.

I climb through the hatch and into the cradle.

I feel like an interloper here. The cradle isn't calibrated for my body. Everything still smells like the pilot. Mingled with the smell of the machine is her sweat and her adrenaline and the particular scented soap that she prefers.

There is a faint whirring as her cameras track my movements from a dozen angles. The access ports open to receive me.

Against my better judgment, I imagine eagerness for this exchange.

This is immediately followed by an all too familiar sense of inadequacy. The engineers’ rig is not nearly as all encompassing as a pilots’. It's only the most basic neural interface. No haptics. No neurotransmitter feedback. No access to the suite of sensors studded throughout her hull.

I can't interface with her the way her pilot can.

My rig is a remnant from basic training. The pilot corps wanted me for my exceptional ratings in synchrony and neuro-elasticity, but after serval training exercises, they determined that I didn't have the temperament for the battlefield. I froze up too easily.

A neural rig is a massive investment and removing one will fuck a person up a hell of a lot more than installing one. The selection process is designed to weed out washouts before we even get to installation, but some of us still slip through the cracks. Most end up reassigned to logistics, operating loader mechs or piloting long haul supply frigates. But my aptitudes made me ideal for the engineering corps, so here I am.

Morrigan senses my mood and the cradle shifts slightly, aligning itself to my dimensions. Her eagerness to connect morphs into a sort of tender reassurance. It's a slippery slope, ascribing human emotions to these machines, but she does seem genuinely happy to see me.

I can never be part of what she and her pilot have, but I can be part of something in my own way.

The pilot knows about me, she would even without neural bleed. Does she envy the relationship I have with her mech? Does she envy that I can exist both together and apart with the machine?

Is she jealous of us?

Morrigan slips her jacks into my rig and my mind enters hers and I feel tension leave my body. Some dull ache that I wasn't even consciously aware of ebbs within me.

My senses dull and my visual cortex is fed a series of diagnostic logs and telemetry streams. The techs have access to the exact same data, but Morrigan highlights particular data points that she and the pilot flagged. I log them in the engineering report.

A wireframe schematic of the battlefield spreads out in my awareness. Green markers for our battlegroup. Red markers for the pack of Wraith interlopers.

I hear the ghost of music, strange and ambient, like whale song. The first time I heard it, I asked the techs about it. They had no idea what I was talking about. One even suggested I get an eval for some psych leave.

Later I realized Morrigan was singing to me. Or rather she was interpreting tightbeam comm links as something my brain could process. A human mind can't possibly interpret the full datastream, but with Morrigans's rendition, I can suss out the basic meanings. The battlegroup is a choir and Morrigan is playing me their song.

I caused quite a stir when I first made that connection and started flagging battle events the analysts had missed.

I survey the battlefield before me, reconstructed from feeds from TacCom and all the individual mechs.

Morrigan and I have done this enough times that she knows my preferred display layout, but she holds back, allowing me to pull off the virtual displays on my peripheral vision. There's an odd sort of intimacy to it, her letting me take charge like this.

God-knows how many tons of metal and ceramic and miles and miles of wire and optic fiber and see waits eagerly for me to start the playback sim. She wants to show off. She wants me to assess the actions of her and her pilot and tell them they did well.

Other engineers, few as we are, have mentioned similar experiences with their assigned machines.

“Alright,” I whisper so that only she can hear. “Show me the dance. Sing me the song.”

(Next)

[hyunjiiza]

hint: lover with a dollar sign | . ᯓ 🍵 ݁‧ ᵔ

➜ he’s a loser ! ୨୧ skz members and what type of cute loner they’d be . | contents : drug use , fem reader implied ᰋ wc ; 1633 . ꉂ ot8 .ᐟ

｡ ᰋ 𓂃 | i’m not pushing any of these narratives onto them, it’s just dif scenarios i wanted to write them in ! this is a bit of an older work from my other account but i’m moving here so hi

chan as the 𐔌 stoner loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

shows up to school smelling like weed but no one cares because he does all his work and never causes trouble

you make eye contact with him for the first time in the parking lot while he’s smoking, he falls in love when you smile and wave

turns down everyone that hits on him after that

when he finally musters up the courage to talk to you all he can do is tap your shoulder in the same parking lot he first saw you and ask if you smoke

no matter your answer, he asks to get to know you better

follows you around like a bodyguard after that

never ever lets you carry your own bag and always makes sure you have something to eat for lunch whether he has to pay for you or not

pretty smart in most subjects so you have study dates often because he just likes your presence

won’t smoke around you if you don’t like it

never posts anything besides you and aesthetic pictures he takes

isn’t the type to fight but he will if someone disrespects you, but they back off because of his size before it gets to that point

hyunjin as the 𐔌 artsy loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

has one black pen and one red pen that he abuses every day

pays attention for the most part but occasionally gets distracted doodling in his notebooks

def has drawings all over his hands

the first time he noticed you was in art class and he thought you were so pretty he started drawing you

you glance over and he’s mortified when he realizes he probably looks like a creep

too nervous to go up to you and explain so he leaves you a note with little drawings all over (plus the drawing of you) and a replacement of the pink gel pen he notices you using all the time

gets super nervous when he sees you walking up to him the next day

you ask him to partner up for a project and thank him for the drawing

ends up kissing you at your last project session

asks you out with the most thoughtful basket filled with things you like and a letter with another drawing of you and almost cries when you don’t answer right away

does everything for you after you get together

the art teacher is yalls biggest fan

has no one else to cling to so he’s all over you 24/7

gives nasty glares to men who simply look at you

felix as the 𐔌 fashion design loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

like hyunjin, spends most of his time sketching out designs in his scrap book where he keeps all his miniature fabric samples in

sulks because there’s no fashion club for him to join

is initially drawn to you because of an outfit you wore that he loves

eventually asks where you got your top when you wear it again and his heartstrings pull at the way you answer so sweetly and compliment his hair

after that the two of you gradually got closer and closer

you help him learn to sew and he starts planning marriage then and there (he wants to help design your wedding dress)

sews matching patches on your backpacks

you catch him texting his best friend that lives abroad about you

gets so nervous he cries

you tell him you feel the same way and he cries even harder

just gets even clingier once you end up together

loves kissing you and laying together while he sketches

takes you out whenever you want and spoils you rotten because he has rich parents

matching outfits = fire insta pics

jeongin as the 𐔌 sour patch loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

never talks to anyone so everyone thinks he’s mean but he’s really an angel

your elective teacher makes your class do a secret santa and he gets you

he gives you oddly specific gifts (he has a massive crush on you and overhears you telling your friends your wishlist) and includes a note sweet talking you

you go up to him and thank him with a kiss on the cheek and he turns red

he asks you to hang out and pays for brunch and the cutest pottery painting date

gets the teacher to move you two to sit next to each other

everyone’s a little surprised when they see how he’s so gentle with you

decides he needs to get over himself and ask you out and gets you a pandora charm bracelet and a pretty bouquet of flowers

pampers you with your favorite snacks or meals randomly, refills of makeup you use, randomly does your homework for you

flips off ur exes and flexes on them when you aren’t looking then turns around to kiss you

is at your house 24/7 because he can’t breathe without you but is supportive when you go out with your friends or need a solo day

loves going to the beach with you and carrying you so your feet don’t get sandy

jisung as the 𐔌 nerdy loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

has good grades and the teachers remember his name because his work is always on time

eats alone in the library because he has no one to sit with

you walk in on him while picking up a book you need and he’s super embarrassed (he’s had a crush on you since middle school)

you ask to sit with him because you think he’s cute and he trips over his words answering you

you spend lunch with him every day after that and he starts packing a lunch for you too

accidentally confesses he has a fat crush on you when you ask if he has a girlfriend

he starts rambling after and shuts up when he notices you’re giggling at him

you kiss him and he swears his lifelong dream has come true

is the sweetest boyfriend ever

does all your homework for you and insists it’s really no problem

drives you to and from school every day because “that’s what boyfriends are for”

never looks at anyone but you and writes down threats and shoves them in guys lockers when they hit on you

minho as the 𐔌 gym loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

purposefully gets his free period after his weightlifting class so he can spend two periods working out

isn’t really shy, just doesn’t like anyone enough to have friends

girls check him out occasionally but he always ignores them

catches you freaking out when you have no clothes to change in and offers you his shirt because he thinks you’re cute

uses that as an excuse to mess with you

“if i can bench your weight you owe me a date”

spoiler, he can.

makes sure to tell you you don’t really owe him anything and he’s just messing with you

you agree to the date and he picks you up and takes you on a surprisingly thoughtful date

drive around town, food and watching the sunset, takes your pictures next to pretty flowers and keeps his arm around you the whole time

asks you if you really have to go when he’s dropping you off

walks you to your door and gives you a hug (he’s never dated anyone and too scared to kiss you)

texts you that he had a really good time and he would “work to make you his”

it doesn’t take much work and he kisses you right after he asks you to be his

is way too proud of his build and wears sleeveless shirts just to scare anyone that looks at you

carries you around any chance he gets

seungmin as the 𐔌 music lover loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

walks around with his headphones in 24/7

hums to himself quietly while he studies

you ask him about a song he was humming and he’s surprised you were talking to him

you think he hates you till he smiles at you when you walk into class

makes you a playlist to make his move on you

doesn’t know how to tell you he likes you at all so he just kinda teases you to flirt with you

takes you to a record store at lunch because he wanted to show you the spot

stares at you a little too hard so you ask him if he wants a kiss as a joke

says yes and moves your hair out of your face, you guys have a make out sesh and only stop when the owner clears his throat awkwardly at the both of you

you make him go back inside alone and buy you the vinyl you want

he comes back out with it and 5 more that you didn’t wanna ask for but knows you wanted anyway

you skip the rest of the day and go to his house and use his record player

you fall asleep on him and he takes 0.5s of you

shares his headphones with you, but doesn’t share his food (until you make a sad face at him and he gives in instantly. works every time.)

changbin as the 𐔌 sweetheart loner .ᐟ ˚ ੭

all of his professors adore him, all the school staff does at this point

has the maximum hours of community service that he can have but won’t stop helping around where he can

notices you from the start because he thinks you’re pretty, but really starts liking you when he sees you volunteer at an elementary school

accidentally scares you coming up behind you when you’re hanging a banner

you guys start helping at the same places and make a tradition of hanging up banners together

after a while he figures he might as well just tell you how he feels, is elated when you hug him and tell him the feelings mutual

confesses that he was actually really nervous and gets flustered when you tease him about it because he thinks you’re the prettiest

when you ask why he never hangs out with anyone he says he doesn’t like people with unpure hearts and that’s why he loves you so much

definitely takes you out and buys you guys matching stuff

married couple

. ᯓ 🍵 ݁‧ ᵔ | @0sunshinecryptid0 @jinnieboosworld @lixies-favorite-cookie @zelinkcrossing @hwanqluvs @hyunjiiza @hyunnisa @eastjonowhere @nxtt2-u @pixie-felix @smlbch @tricky-ritz @yaniluvs @pigeonseatmayo @transparentheartcollection | [༝༚] @hyunjiiza 1:37 am

[felikatze]

ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite 06

The moment so many have been waiting for...

Also! I will no longer be accepting new ppl for the taglist for this series! If you wish to be alerted when i drop a new chapter you may choose to be notified when i post! Thank you :)

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Series Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, verryyyy nsfw, chan x reader, OT8 x reader, A/B/O, m/m/f smut, possessive! SKZ, possessive! Reader, anxiety and depression, reader is a CRYBABY, fluff, angst, virgin!reader,  cursing, violence, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, Sub reader x mostly dom SKZ, misogyny and sexism, Ateez are depicted as terrible people (sorry Atiny!) 

Chapter Warnings: Crying, nsfw content, Smut, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, mating, biting, begging, blood play(?), blood in mouths, reader is in heat, super possesive! Chan, knotting, angst, anxiety, cursing, tension in the pack, yelling, drama, Lee know being a dick

WC: 4.1k

MDNI 18+

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please. 

You were dying. You were sure of it. The fire you felt in your body was killing you. You didn’t even register it when Chan gently placed you on his bed, suddenly overcome with the pure scent of him. 

“Alpha…It hurts.” your words coming out slurred.

He was by your side, one hand running through your hair, the other keeping a steady grip on the mattress- to keep himself grounded so as to not to do anything rash. 

“M’ here Omega. It’s gonna be ok.” His pupils were dilated the biggest they have ever been. 

“Hurts so much Alpha. Please please make it stop.” You were pleading -begging- him to make it better. There was one thing in particular you wanted. One word playing in your head on a loop. 

Knot

Knot 

Knot 

Over and over again, it was making you delirious. 

Your whole body was on fire. Boiling  through your bloodstream and radiating out of your skin. So hot you couldn’t breathe, the flames engulfing your lungs. I guess that's why they call it a heat. 

Chan had been excited to work you through your first heat together, he just thought he would have more time beforehand. No time like the present, though. 

“I’ll help you, omega. Your alpha will always help his sweet omega.” He cooed at you, his body slowly moving over yours, caging you under his built frame. 

The second he was settled over you, your arms shot up and forcefully pulled the back of his head down, capturing his lips against your own. Chan let out a grunt of surprise, not expecting this shy girl to be the one to take the lead. It’s not his style, but he would let you have it this one time. He would have plenty of time to train you later. 

You lifted your hips, looking for that bit of friction- any bit you could get. At the brush of your hips against his own Chan let out an almost inhuman growl. If anyone else had heard him let out that sound they would have pissed their pants, it was so deep coming from a place inside of him he didn’t even know existed . 

He let you grind into him while he savored the taste of your mouth. Your whimpers like music to his ears. When he had his fill of your mouth (tho really he never will) he sat up and hastily removed his shirt from his body then literally tearing into your tee shirt ripping the garment in half. He was more than eager to see all of his pretty omega. Your pants were next to go, seeing the same fate as your shirt and joining it on the ground. 

“Alpha.” There was that begging tone again, “Knot. Need it.” 

“Fuck baby. Ok ok Alphas gotcha” He shimmied out of his own bottoms, throwing his pants and boxers to the floor beneath. 

To say Chan was good looking was an understatement. He was the most gorgeous man you had ever seen. His whole body toned from his years of discipline, his muscles rippling as you rake your nails across his abs. His cocky smirk gave his face a boyish charm but his sharp teeth reminded you he was a predator. 

And you were his prey. 

“Oh pretty girl. You have no idea of the naughty things I want to do to you.” He licked his teeth. 

“W-wan’ it Alpha. Wan’ it all from you.” Your words still slurring together in your plight. You would give him anything he wants. Your mind, body and soul - all of you, just MAKE IT STOP. 

Chan couldn’t hold back any longer, your words causing his self control to snap. His hands gripped your body, fully allowing himself to grind against your sex drawing helpless moans from you. 

Yes 

Yes 

YES

It felt so good, but it was not enough. You needed more. 

The alpha gripped you by the face then placed his finger against your bottom lip before slowly inserting the digit into your open mouth. He pressed down on your tongue as he collected the saliva that was accumulating, then pulled it out of your mouth and brought it down to your pussy. 

Chan used the finger to swipe through your wetness, the immediate sounds of your slick filling the air. 

“Fuck Baby you’re so fucking wet. Who made you like this, Omega?” He asked rhetorically. 

More tears escaped you, “A-alpha. Always you, my alpha.” 

Chan inserted his long finger into you, a wet gasp escaping you at the intrusion. Now it was his turn to moan. You were just so tight. Fuck, how was his cock going to fit? He would make it fit. 

“So good. Need more, Alpha. Need your knot.” Your eyes were pleading. Chans mouth left stray kisses down your chest, coming to your breasts where he took one of your nipples between his teeth, giving it a sharp tug. You felt a strike of pain at his actions, but it also felt so good- to be touched by him. 

“Mmm are you sure Omega?” He teased between bites, alternating between the two mounds. 

‘Perfect for feeding our children’ Chan could see it now, you with your breasts full of milk, leaking all over the place while you waddle around the house, his baby growing inside of you. The thought alone could make a grown man cry. 

“Yes!” You humped into his harder in response. 

“Ok baby. Alpha will give you what you want.” 

Chan grabbed his cock in his hand and rubbed the tip through your slick, collecting some of the drippage, before slowly pushing into you. 

The moan you let out was one of pure ecstasy.  Never in your life had you had something so big inside of you before. If you thought you were seeing stars before, it was nothing compared to now. Your nails found purchase in his shoulder blades, the indents turning red at how hard you pressed into him. 

“Nnnngggg '' Chan isn't faring any better. Since the moment he smelled you he had wanted to take you this way. 

“N-n-need you, alpha.” You choked out through sobs of pleasure. 

Chan buried his face into your neck, breathing heavy in your ear.

“Tell me you’ve never done this before, Omega. Tell me no other man has ever touched you like this. That no one else has taken you this way.” Chan needed you to say it, to feed his ego. 

“Tell me I’m the only one. Then I will give you all of me.” He nipped at the skin on your neck, so close to your mating gland. 

You answered without hesitation, “Only you, Alpha. Never anyone else. Only you.”

At your confession Chan growled, something absolutely primal escaping his body. The need to mark you as his feeding into his frenzy. He brought his hips back as far as he could, letting his tip just barely leave your hole, before thrusting into you harshly, his hips snapping into yours with vigor. 

“Fuccckkkk, Alpha. Please, please, please” You didn’t know what you were begging for, just that you couldn’t stop. The sound of your slick filled the room, as well as the smell of your combined scents. The liquid was literally dripping out of you, coating both your thighs and Chans balls. There was no room to care, though. Not with the way he was fucking you so nicely. His cock fit perfectly inside, filling every inch as if he was made for you. He was. 

His movements didn't slow at your whines, in fact they only increased. He was pounding into you like a rabid animal, letting you draw your pleasure from his body and in return feeding his primal urges. 

“ Gonna claim you Omega. Gonna let everyone know who you belong too.” He looked into your eyes for any hint of an objection but found none. You were too far gone to respond but somehow managed to nod your head, baring your neck in submission, waiting for him to claim his prize. 

At your submission Chans’ eyes glazed over and he opened his mouth to reveal those sharp canines. No more warning was given as he dove right for your neck, his teeth slotting over your mating gland and biting down. Hard. 

The sensation was otherworldly. You thought it would hurt, preparing for the pain that never came. Instead all you felt was intoxicating love. You felt loved, and wanted, and cared for. Like everything Chan felt for you was pouring out of him and into you. Without warning you came around his length, fluids spraying out of you and coating Chan's abdomen. 

The alpha released his hold on your neck after a few seconds, his tongue smoothing over the bloody mark left behind. His thrusts never faltered still, his driving into you gaining intensity as he neared his own release. Once your neck stopped dripping he pulled back from your neck, his lips covered in your blood. He pushed himself back on his haunches and hoisted your hips up further, his grip bruising your hips. 

Chan was panting as he spoke “ I am never letting you go. I have ruined you for anyone else. This pack is all you need, all you’ll ever need. Soon you won’t be able to breathe without us, Omega.” 

You had completely succumbed into a subspace, floating through nothing and everything all at once. You’re only thoughts consisting of him. 

“Wanna bite…” You mumbled out. “Wanna claim my Alpha.” The words were escaping you without you even registering you said them. 

Chans felt his knot start to inflate and he leaned down once more, “Do it. Claim me, Omega.”

In your daze your teeth found his neck and you bit down, his blood now filling your mouth. 

As your teeth sunk into him, Chan came inside of you. His knot inflated fully now, keeping him from thrusting any further, holding him against you. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck! Perfect little omega, love you so much.” 

His cum filled every crevice inside of you, coating you completely and spilling out around his cock. It was pure warmth. You were sure you would never tire of this feeling. 

When Chan had given you every last drop he tried to catch his breath, his lungs feeling like he ran 10 miles at full speed. 

You were slowly coming out of that mind space, now needing the comfort only your alpha could offer. You brought your hands up to rest on his cheeks, and inched your face closer to his until your mouths met again. The blood both of you had on your mouths mixing together on your lips, the taste of iron taking over completely. It wasn’t an unwelcome taste, but something about it felt dirty. Dirtier than the act the both of you had partaken in mere seconds before. 

Chan was the first one to pull back, you whining trying to keep his lips locked on yours. 

“Enough of that, Omega. Gotta’ make sure you're ok.” He gently rolled your head to the side to take a peep at the bite left behind. He let out a low whistle, “fuck, got you pretty good. M’ sorry baby.” He peppered kisses all over your face as an apology. 

“It’s ok alpha. Wanted you too.” Your clarity was returning to you slowly, your heat having been satiated for the time being. His thick knot kept you close to him. Suddenly all of your past actions were flooding your brain, the humility creeping on to you and you hid your face in his chest, a quiet sob emanating. 

Chan gave a noise of shock and the sudden appearance of your tears. Though he shouldn’t be surprised. His sweet girl seemed like she was always crying. Still, he had to make sure you were ok. 

“Aww baby, why the tears, huh?”

“M’ so so sorry, Alpha.” You sniffled, words muffled by his skin. 

“Sorry for what my love?” He was genuinely confused. 

You sniffed a few more times , trying to catch your breath before responding. “I’m sorry I acted that way… before with the other boys. I had no control over my own body, it just came on so suddenly. I know that’s no excuse but I really am so so sorry Chan. I would understand if you didn’t want me anymore. No one would want a sloppy Omega.” 

Your words filled him with a fury, harshly gripping your cheeks and turning your eyes to meet his own. 

“Did I say I didn’t want you, Omega?” You shook your head the best you could in his grip. “Then why would you think such a thing? I don’t blame you for what went down. I know you’re a sweet, shy little baby. And sweet girls would never behave that way on their own volition” Not yet anyways. 

The alpha gave you a quick peck. “No one will blame you or be mad. Especially not me. So stop saying shit like that. Like I already said - I am never letting you go. You are my true mate, were made for me. You belong to me now. Right omega?” He used your head to nod up and down. 

It was a possessive statement, and would have made any sane person want to run for the hills, but for some reason it just made you wet again. 

“Yes Alpha.” You whispered in lust, the intensity starting to return,  “I belong to you.”

--------------------------------------

The pack members took shelter at what they called the ‘safehouse’. It was a small apartment sized home at the very edge of the property. They used it when one of the alphas went into a rut or if one of the members just needed some space for some reason. The space wasn’t really suited for more than one, maybe two, people at most. But it was this or camping and at least this place had a small kitchen and bathroom. 

There was tension amongst the guys. A lot of them replayed the events of the day in their own minds. It had been a few hours since the incident. In his shame, Jeongin locked himself in the bathroom refusing to come out no matter how much Hyunjin had begged. Hyunjin, Felix and Seungmin had been filled in by a teary eyed Jisung. 

Jisung was in a daze. He had been sitting on the porch since they arrived, just gazing out into the trees that surrounded the estate. The crystal tears every once in a while cascading down his rounded cheeks. He felt like it was all his fault. You were with him when you went into heat. You were with him when Jeongin went for you. Fuck, it was him that took you straight for the young alpha. ‘I should have warned Jeongin. I should have called him and told him to get the fuck out of the house.’ 

The first thing Jeongin did when he got to the safehouse was lock himself in the bathroom and take the hottest shower possible, he needed to rid himself of your scent. Needed to scrub you off his skin, if he didn’t he was sure it would cause an early rut. That is the last thing he needed right now. The boy was filled with deep shame. ‘I can’t believe I acted like that’ he rested his head against the shower tile. ‘How will I ever face Chan again?’ He truly didn’t know what to do, so he will do the only thing he can do right now. Stand here under the cooling water, and wallow in his mortification. 

Minho, on the other hand, was fuming. To him all of this ordeal was avoidable. Aren’t omegas supposed to be able to sense their heats coming? And how convenient it was that you happened to have said heat almost as soon as you got there. To their home. A home full of unmated men. 

Chan had also filled him in the night prior, about Hongjoong and you being promised to him. Something about all these circumstances didn’t sit right with the beta. He didn't hate you, he knew deep inside that you had no ill will, he's pretty good at sensing that kind of thing in people. Minho just can’t help but be defensive over his pack. And is wary of things disrupting the peace within his pack. He isn’t an alpha, but Minho can be protective like one. He had tried to comfort Jeongin but the alpha had made it clear he didn’t want to be bothered at all. It was breaking Minho's heart. 

Changbin was outside trying to exercise the stress away. He felt the best option for him was to sweat your smell off of him. Really, working out was his answer for everything. He was fairing well enough, though there was a little part of his brain itching with the knowledge there was a pretty omega in heat not too far away. Best to ignore that little bit of information. 

The three remaining betas were at a loss for what to do. It seemed like everyone else was in their own little worlds, replaying what had happened over and over. Felix was trying to cook something up for the pack. His motto is food fixes everything so that's what he will do!

 Hyunjin had eventually given up on his mission to comfort Jeongin, his pleading being in vain, so his next target was Jisung. Hyunjin skittered outside and crawled into Jisungs lap, bear hugging the younger man. The moment Jisung registered the warmth he broke into a sob- burying his face into Hyunjin. “Its ok Sungie. That must have been a lot for you to handle by yourself.” Jisung nodded, the hiccups beginning. “You did such a good job, you got her home safe. You know that means the world to Chan.” At the mention of their leader Jisung cried harder. 

“It’s my fault, Hyun.” Hyunjin shook his head to disagree but Jisung continued “ I should have warned Innie. I could have called him or something.” 

“Nobody blames you Sung. Not a single person in this pack would dare put you at fault for anything. You did right by your pack. Chan trusted you with her and you did what you had too. When we eventually go back home I know he will tell you the same thing.” 

That seemed to perk up the younger beta, the tears coming to a slow stop. “Y-you think so, hyung?” 

Hyunjin nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely. It will be alright.” Jisung nodded along, hugging the older boy tighter. 

Seungmin was sitting on the small sofa in the living room, observing Minho who sat a few feet away scrolling on his phone with a scowl upon his face. Seungmin wondered if now was a good time to ask just what Minhos' problem had been. It was obvious something had crawled up the elders ass but Seungmin wanted to know what. Yeah the events of today are mildly inconvenient, of course he would rather have his own bed versus an air mattress but it's really not a big deal. And Jeongin would get over it soon enough. So what was Minho's problem? 

“So what’s your deal?” 

“Huh?” Minho looked up from his phone with a confused expression. 

“I mean, I know this kinda sucks and was a shitty situation but something has been up with you since yesterday sooooooo…” Seungmin gestured with his hands for Minho to explain himself. 

The elder beta rolled his eyes, “Nothing is wrong Seungmin. It’s been a stressful day, is all.” 

“Yeah fucking right. What about yesterday? When you called Y/n a ‘situation’?” He used air quotes around ‘situation’ for emphasis. 

‘Dammit, I should have worded it better then to avoid this shit.’ Minho thought bitterly. 

“Well if you can’t fucking tell Seungmin, she has become quite the situation now, hasn’t she? Look at what happened to poor Jeongin! Not to mention Han and Changbin.” Minho had been trying to keep his voice down but couldn’t help the slight raise. 

Seungmin scoffed, “They will all be fine. Those guys are more resilient than you think they are. It was a learning experience for everyone - next time will be different.” 

“Maybe next time she can give us a fucking warning.” Minho mumbled, not intending for seungmin to hear. He did anyway. 

“So you’re gonna blame her? She just met her true mate, not to mention all the stress she’s been in ya know , having to flee her fucking entire life. So yeah I imagine her hormones are all over the place.” 

The elder beta stood in fury, “How are you just so ok with all of this?! How has none of what’s occurring bothered you?!” 

“Why would our leader -our alpha-finding his mate bother me? Why would it bother me to know we now have the missing piece of our pack? I have no issues with her. Hell, I even like her. And I can say pretty confidently that the other guys like her too. So it seems the stick is only up your ass, Minho.” Seungmin stood too, he started this argument and he won’t back down. 

It seems both guys forgot Felix was a few feet away, listening to the entire conversation with baited breath. 

He had a bad feeling this would escalate if he didn’t get involved. The small beta appeared between the two with his hands up to diffuse the tension. 

“That’s enough from you two!” Felix was trying not to tremble at his own assertiveness. 

“Felix this doesn’t concern you.” Minho tried to shoo him away. 

“My pack mates are fighting, of course it concerns me.” Felix turned to Seungmin now “Why don’t you take a walk, please. Go clear your head.” Felix gave him pleading eyes. 

Seungmin looked like he wanted to refuse but only gave a sigh and a nod before calmly walking out the door, but making a show of letting it slam behind him. 

Minho let out a breath when the younger boy had exited. Felix now had turned his attention to only Minho. “ Can we have a calm discussion about what exactly made you feel like this, min?” 

Minho sighed, plopping back into his chair and putting his head in his hands. 

“It’s not that easy, Lix. There’s so much going on in here I don’t even know where to begin.” 

Felix being the sweet boy he is, came to sit on the armrest beside the older boy, and began to rub his back in comforting circles. “ You can tell me anything. I could tell since yesterday you haven’t been yourself. I just wanna help you Min.” 

At his words Minho unloaded all his thoughts and feelings onto Felix. Every doubt, every concern, all of it. Felix listened intently, letting Min get out everything that he has been holding on too. 

“I see where you’re coming from. It’s a big sudden change for our pack. And it definitely comes with some challenges. But it’s nothing we can’t handle.” Felix was trying to help as much as he could. “I really think once we get past this hurdle, our pack will be more unified than ever!”

“Don’t take this the wrong way Felix, but I feel like you're only saying that because you want a turn with her next.” Minho griped. 

Felix looked hurt for a second but didn’t let it faze him much. “Hyung, if you got to know her I think you’d change your tune. I got to spend some real time with her yesterday and from what I've seen she is actually really great. I’m not going to sit here and lie and say there’s not an urge for me to sleep with her because there is, but if she wasn’t an omega I know I would feel the same way about her.” Felix leaned into Minho. “All I’m asking is that you give her a chance. Don’t let this one slip up ruin your relationship with her. If not for me then at least try for Chan. He’s a good leader to us and he deserves your effort.” 

Minho knew Felix was right. He didn’t want to admit it but the younger beta spoke some sense into him. There was one thing still bothering him, though. 

“What about if the Ateez pack comes for her?” 

Felix didn’t seem worried, “If they come for our omega, they will see just how strong our pack is. They won’t lay a finger on our girl.” 

“Chan would kill them first.” They spoke in unison, then looked at each other and burst into laughter. 

A/N: Finallyyyyy getting into the dirty stuff!! Also I sincerely apologize for the angst :'), it gets better!! at some point.. Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

Taglist - closed

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[moonchildstyles]

élan

élan part one: harry is a bodyguard by trade and y/n would do anything just to be left alone

wordcount: 18.5k+

cw: her dad is really mean tbh!! pls skip parts w him if you are senstive to that kind of thing!

—————

(Y/N) fought to keep her eyes focused in the dark of her father's office. The longer she sat there, listening to the shout of his voice, the easier it was to block it out as she waited for it to be over. She stopped listening when he went off on his tangent about how terrible she was (he loved to use the word selfish and anything he could think of to diminish her intelligence). He wasn't very creative anymore, these berating sessions feeling like a necessary task as opposed to a hurtful punishment these days. 

At least the interior designer he brought in last month had moved everything around, leaving his bookshelf behind his desk. This way, she could look over his shoulder and read the titles of his books. She was almost certain he hadn't read a single volume though he most likely told everyone that followed him in, that he had paged through each book more than once. 

"Are you even listening, (Y/N)?"

Perking up at the sound of her name, she nodded on instinct. "Mhm," she hummed absently. 

"What did I just say?" He was unimpressed—disbelieving. 

(Y/N) stayed silent. 

A heavy sigh fell from her father's lips. His eyes dimmed fro the angry fire she'd spotted before, leveling to disappointed embers the longer he looked at her. 

"This is what I mean, (Y/N)," he continued, harshly spitting out her name, "You don't care. Never have you thought about the consequences to your actions. You're too selfish to think of anyone but yourself!" The blaze sparked up once more as he flicked his gaze to the glossy tabloid splayed across his desk. "Can you even comprehend what this"—he gritted out the word, tapping his finger against the photo—"means for me? My investors are going to have my ass only Monday because you don't know how to control yourself for five minutes." 

She squirmed in her spot. Her gaze stayed locked on the tabloid cover. She was pictured with bitter features, her brows twisted in anger and eyes were ablaze. Her hand was outstretched as she dumped a full glass of rosé on Damien Moore's perfect, blonde head. Several angles were posted, documenting her gaped lips as she spat out venomous words while Damien looked on with seemingly innocent, wide blue eyes. The last in the series showed her walking out with the wine dripping down his features as he looked on in shock. A bold headline said: "Whore-mones or Another Drunken Rage?" 

(Y/N) swallowed as she took the scene in. 

Perfectly manicured nails clashed in her lap, the edges of her acrylics being worn dull from the restless ministrations. 

"Do you want me to fail?" her father prodded, unsatisfied with her silence. 

"It's not what it looks like—," she floundered, unable to keep her feelings out of it after looking at those photos, "He—Damien—" 

"It does not matter what happened, (Y/N)! This is what it looks like and that is what people are going to believe and what they are going to care about!" He seethed as he looked at her, (Y/N) unsurprised. "You're going to make us lose everything if you keep this up, do you understand that? Your apartment, everything you have in Paris, your stupid shopping sprees—you'll actually have to work if you want any of that. Did you think of any of that?" 

His harsh words slipped around her, filling every breath of air she pulled into her lungs. Any fight she had, any want to defend herself or give any kind of explanation, left her in an instant. "No," she answered, resigned. 

"I didn't fucking think so. You never think, anyway." 

(Y/N) just looked over his shoulder. Her gaze didn't shift even as his voice continued on, droning with insults and degrading remarks. 

She hadn't even known she was being photographed that day. There wasn't a single flash or shutter of a camera. The restaurant had even gone out of their way to assure them that no one would be able to slip inside without a reservation or loiter along the sidewalk in wait. 

But, inside sources and photographers always found a way, she supposed. Especially since it wasn't just her, it was her and Damien Moore on something that looked like it could have been a date. Of course paparazzi were going to find a way to get a photo of them together—anything to help fuel the rumors filling gossip pages and social media. 

This particularly source even went so far as to claim they were close enough to overhear the argument that sparked the thrown wine. Supposedly, (Y/N) had been seeing someone behind Damien's back (something that was impossible given the fact she had Damien weren't even talking like that, let alone in an exclusive relationship), and when he confronted her she blew up. She was so hopped up on her "whore-mones" as the headline so eloquently put it, and the obviously unfinished glass of wine, that she just had to throw the drink in his face. 

Because of course it was (Y/N)'s fault. Never could it have anything to do with Damien. He was the sterling Yale grad that came from the perfect family, while she was the "party girl" with divorced parents and a wild past. It was always going to be her fault, because that was more interesting than checking your sources. 

At least, that's what the "journalists" and "sources" said. 

It came with the territory, her dad had told her when she was freshly sixteen and photographers started waiting outside her private school. If you wanted to make the kind of money he made and be important in this world, there was going to be consequences, that's what he'd said when he saw the first photos of her and her friends having lunch on the quad. She was a pretty girl, anyway, of course there were going to be photos taken of her. She might as well take advantage of it instead of whining. 

She became a tabloid bunny before she had even turned eighteen, with every misstep documented on the internet and whatever publication bought the photos as exclusives. Because of that, this lashing was nothing to her. She'd "poorly reflected the family image" enough time to let her dad's words roll off of her. 

Her father was going to probably send her to the home in Malibu or whatever vacation rental was farthest from New York until he could stomach seeing her again. She'd happily take whatever location; it wasn't like she wanted to see him either. 

"(Y/N), we can't keep doing this." Finally focusing her gaze, she saw her father sitting with his eyes sealed closed, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't keep doing this." 

As much as she was numb to moments like these, it was when his anger melted away and she was left with a disappointed father that she felt cracks appear in her walls. The little girl inside still ached to see her daddy so upset with her; so disappointed he couldn't even look at her. 

"I'm sorry," she offered, something genuine lying beneath the deadpan tone. 

"I'm sure you are," he sighed, "But, that's not enough anymore." 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, lipgloss smearing across her pout, she stayed quiet.

"At this point, it's like you need a babysitter again. You can't be left by yourself and expected to behave." 

Not this again, she wanted to grumble. Her last "babysitter" was nothing more than an uppity handler that cared more about PR rather than her actual well being. 

Beginning to shake her head, (Y/N) tried to politely decline before he steamrolled over her. 

"I'm going to have to hire someone, whether you want it or not. A bodyguard, a handler, or something, just to follow you around and keep you out of trouble." 

Her lashes fluttered as her eyes widened at his plan. Her last handler didn't do more than text her throughout the day and meet with her once a week. He wanted someone on her back all the time?

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?" 

He still wouldn't look at her as he spoke, "Since you keep acting like a child, that's how I'm going to have to treat you." 

A slight panic sparked in the pit of her stomach. If she couldn't have her freedom, then what was any of this for? None of this—putting up with her father, allowing him to jerk her around, take his berating—was fucking worth it, then. 

"Dad, seriously," she tried again, her hands beginning to shake, "Those pictures aren't what it looks like, I promise." 

"And the others?" he asked sharply, whipping his gaze to match hers intently, "The one with you and Francesca sneaking out of a club at three in the morning when you were nineteen? The one of you screaming at Terra at her birthday party? Or, of course, the clips of you showing off your underwear while getting out of some random man's car?" 

(Y/N) shut down at the mention of her most famous and well photographed mistakes. He never bothered to get her side of the story to those photos either, he just liked to bring them up to taunt her. He'd rather believe an "insider" over his daughter. It didn't matter that she was his family. It only mattered what his investors thought, or the men at the country club, or whoever he was trying to cozy up to for his benefit. Every attempt to clear her name was thrown out; not even when she showed him that one of these insiders had found her home address and started sending her letters. Not even when she told him she was beginning to get scared did he even pretend to care. 

"That's what I thought," her father continued after she left them in silence, "Now, I'm going to have to hire someone to ensure you don't keep causing trouble, and you are going to respect them. If you want any chance of me letting this go, you're going to respect them more than you apparently respect me." 

She stayed quiet. There wasn't anything she could add to this. 

"Is there anything you want to say?" he pressed. A faux offer of debate. 

(Y/N) only shook her head. 

"Fine," he spat out, "Then go to bed. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night."

She was up and out of her seat immediately, not wasting a single second before her Dior heels were rapidly clacking over the cherrywood floors of her father's office. Her eyes were on the ground, watching the transition between the wood to the sparkling marble throughout the rest of the flawless Upstate mansion. Everything was high-end and fine, perfect and unburdened. It was full of everything her dad wanted her to be but she could never manage to be as well behaved as a lamp or as quiet as a Persian rug. 

Trailing through the labyrinth of staircases and sealed doors, (Y/N) beelined to her childhood room. It was left exactly how it had been when she moved out at nineteen. It had way too much gold and hidden compartments her friends made to hide liquor for their slumber parties. Her bed was too big with a mattress that was too stiff and sheets too starchy from disuse. 

Her dad never bothered to clear it out or even change a single piece of furniture—not because he cared or wanted her to have a space in his life, but because he didn't think of her enough to even remember this was here. 

Shedding her Chanel sweater and dropping her skirt to puddle at her feet, (Y/N) dressed down to her undergarments before stealing an oversized shirt from a film festival she and Francesca had been invited to at seventeen. The fabric was soft and worn as it fell to the middle of her thighs, the fit slouching and stretched just like it was all those years ago. 

That was all the comfort she could find as she slipped into bed, the sheets dragging across her bare legs. With her head cushioned by an overstuffed pillow, (Y/N) shuttered her eyes as she laid of on her back. Taking in deep breaths, she did her best to keep herself from shedding any tears. 

There wasn't a single reason she should cry over her father. There was nothing there for her to be upset over; none of his words sliced the way he thought they did, that father-daughter bond having been severed when she was way too young. Her efforts were better utilized trying to figure out how to get out of this whole thing. 

Aside from the fact she didn't want a handler—or whatever this babysitter's official title would be—following her around, she needed her freedom. Having the space away from her father's world was the only thing keeping her sane, even if she was barely hanging on. 

She'd been suffocated enough of her life, she needed to find a way to get this pair of strangling hands off of her neck sooner rather than later.

—————

"He literally arranged a flight for me to meet him in Greece, but he only ever messages me after ten like I'm a booty call or something."

Francesca's babbling complaints were some of her favorite things. It was fun hearing what the biggest problems in her life were, as if it was really such a bad thing to have a billionaire entertaining a romance with you. Even if it only occurred after ten p.m.

"Isn't there a time difference between here and Greece?" (Y/N) asked, the Prada and Dior bags in the crook of her elbow brushing against each other as she raised her hand to flick a strand of hair off of her shoulder. Summer was beginning to fall over the city, that much she could tell from the humid breeze twirling around them. 

"I mean sure, but that's not the point," Fran argued, breathing out a frustrated sigh, "It's like he doesn't think I'll ghost him if he starts annoying me. He's not the only one with a yacht, you know." 

"I know, bu—" 

(Y/N) was cut off by the sound of her phone vibrating in her bag, the device rattling against her lipgloss tube. Francesca paused her story, watching as (Y/N) pulled her phone out of her bag. Clocking the name on the screen, she had to keep from rolling her eyes. There had already been a photographer taking photos of them through the windows of Prada and she wasn't sure if they'd followed, but a picture of her rolling her eyes before answering the phone would surely be spun into something sensational.

"Hold on, it's my dad," she mumbled before pressing the phone to her ear. 

Without waiting for a greeting, her father brightened through the receiver with a call of her name. "(Y/N)! Are you still out with Francesca?" She could hear his smile through the phone. The investor meeting must have gone better than he thought. 

"Yeah," she answered absently, "We just finished lunch and shopping. I think we're going to go back to my apartment before we go out tonight. Why?" 

"Would you be able to come home this afternoon, instead? There's someone I want you to meet."

The lax in her muscles evaporated at his words. Though it was posed as a question, she knew there was only one answer he would accept. It was never a good thing when he wanted her to meet someone, but it was a required thing she'd learned. More often than not, he wanted her to meet an investor's son, or some man he drank too much with at the country club. 

Cautiously, she asked, "Who is it?" 

"It's a surprise," he beamed over the phone, "Drop off your things and I'll have one of the drivers come to pick you up." 

"I mean, I think Franny actually made reservations at—" 

This time around, her father's voice had a curt edge underneath the faux sweetness he started the call with. "I think you're going to have to tell Francesca that you need to reschedule, sweetie," he said, voice too pleasant, "I need you to come home tonight." 

Swallowing around her dry throat, (Y/N) resigned herself to the change in the day's plans. "Okay, dad," she muttered. 

"See you soon, honey! Love you!" 

(Y/N) didn't bother to reciprocate his performance, instead just hanging up. He wouldn't shout at her over the dropped call if someone else was present anyway, might as well take advantage she decided.

Beside him, Francesca looked at her with a matching pout. "You have to go home, huh?" 

"Yeah," (Y/N) breathed, dropping her phone back into her purse as they crossed the busy intersection, "My dad wants me to meet one of his friends or something." 

Francesca affectionately bumped against Y/N's shoulder as the car taking them back to her apartment came into view. "Well, if you don't like this one, send me his number and I'll take him off your hands. Just make sure he also has a yacht in Greece." 

Though her features stretched into a smile with a bubbling laugh, (Y/N) wasn't too impressed with Francesca's comment. While she was the best friend (Y/N) had ever had, the only person that knew much about what happened at home and why she would do next to anything to avoid her father, Francesca didn't get it. She supported (Y/N) and didn't mind being the listening ear and the shoulder to lean on, but she never really understood why certain things bothered (Y/N). Everything was very light-hearted in Franny's eyes—there was never a reason not to be receptive if a rich man wanted to buy her a drink or a company wanted to use her likeness without permission. Everything was an opportunity, not a crossed boundary. 

"I doubt he will," (Y/N) played along, setting her shopping bags at her feet after climbing into the black car, "But I'll make sure to put in a good word for you in case he has one in Florence." 

Francesca's laugh filled the cab of the car though (Y/N) was already back home with her father, trying to navigate her way out of whatever he planned. 

—————

"Thank you, Sully," (Y/N) chirped as her driver helped her step out of the car. 

"My pleasure, Ms. (Y/N)," he offered, waiting for her to steady herself over the gravel of her father's long driveway, "Also, I wanted to say thank you again for the clothing you passed on to my daughter. She loved her prom dress and is already asking her mom if she can get it preserved so she can keep it forever. Thank you for taking the time and picking some things out for her—it made her night." 

"Of course," she bubbled, allowing Sully to escort her to the front door of the mansion, "I'm so happy she liked any of it! Let me know if she needs anything else for graduation or anything at all."

The smile on his face made it especially worth it to let go of her favorite vintage Dior gown. 

Waving goodbye to Sully, (Y/N) stepped over the threshold of the front door, already regretting not fighting harder to get out of this. Goosebumps touched her skin as the temperature dropped. She shut the warmth outside behind her, the lock ensuring nothing comforting could follow her into the lion's den.

Despite the place being her childhood home, there was nothing left for her here, she knew that. It barely even resembled the same place she used to celebrate holidays and share tense family dinners in. Her dad's favorite interior designer had the pleasure of redecorating the place every few years, erasing anything that made it not look like a catalogue. 

Her heels clicked over the floors as she made her way up to his office. She wanted to take her time, but she was sure her father already knew she was there. It was better to refrain from keeping him waiting. 

Scaling the stairs, she heard a pair of voices and distant laughter. She didn't need to see the space to know her dad had probably cracked open the decanter of whiskey he had on display on one of his shelves, crystal glasses filled for the both of them. It wasn't hard to imagine the kinds of lines her dad would offer in an attempt to schmooze with whoever was waiting for her. She'd heard it all dozens of times at this point. 

The other voice, though, took her by surprise. This one was too deep and mature to be any kind of investor's son, and too sober and untainted by years of smoking cigars to be one of the men at the country club. Her steps slowed some. Her expectations shifted as she trailed down the hallway in the direction of the office, heels muffled by the long rug under her feet. 

With the heavy door to his office in front of her, (Y/N) carefully knocked on the panel, listening as the voices inside stilled at her disruption. Typically, her father would just grunt a permission of entrance or already be raging when she stepped over the threshold, but she knew he was committed to whatever show he was putting on when he opened the door for her himself.

"(Y/N), sweetie," he greeted her, toothy smile on his lips. "Thank you for coming so quickly; I know you were busy with Francesca, but I'm happy you're here." 

If that wasn't enough, the hug he pulled her into was more than alarming. The last time he hugged her when cameras weren't present was the day her parents told her they were divorcing.  She didn't even know how to reciprocate. 

Before she had a chance to screw her head on right, he pulled away and began leading her inside his office. 

"Of course," she chirped, falling into her designated role for this scene. She kept her gaze high as she followed him in, feigning confidence in the midst of whoever it was that was awaiting her. 

"I have someone special for you to meet," he continued, pitching his voice louder as to catch the attention of the one other in the room. 

Around his shoulder, (Y/N) spotted a head of brown hair, black clothing stretched around broad shoulders and tan skin on the back of their neck. They faced forward despite the obvious way her father was trying to catch their attention. Pacing her breathing, (Y/N) fell into the loving daughter character, willing to do anything for her doting father. 

Welcome to the show. She just hoped it would be a short viewing. 

Approaching the pair of chairs positioned before the cherry-stained desk, her father held out a sweeping hand. "Harry," he said, looking to his guest, "This is my daughter, (Y/N)." 

At the sound of his name, the guest—Harry—stood from where he was sitting, moving with calculated grace as he turned to face the both of them. He stepped away from the cushioned seats, a stoic expression on his features as he looked towards her. 

He wore all black down to his shoes, standing taller than her father's height. His arms and chest were thick with muscle, tan skin and tattoos littering the space. He had beetles and mermaids, hearts and roses inked across, some sketches more faded than others. A cross had even been needed into his hand. The chain of a necklace glimmered in the lowlight though any pendant that may be attached were hidden under the neckline of his top. Moving up the column of his throat, his face was made of hard planes and sharp angles. His nose was strong and straight. Stubble shown blonde in the light across the bottom half of his face, a mole off to the side of his mouth. Everything softened as she matched his eye contact, mossy jade with sparkles of sunlight flecked through. Long curling lashes framed his gaze. 

He was gorgeous, that's for sure. Not the usual kind of person her father associated with. He must be some kind of new money millionaire, easily fooled by her father's charms. 

The man took her in as well, his gaze observant as if there was a notepad he had in his head to take down every detail of her. It didn't feel like the affectionate gaze she'd felt before tracing down her body. Especially with the way his practiced expression stayed level, a wall hidden behind his eyes. 

Nonetheless, she kept her facade up and ready, a beaming smile on her face. She reached out her delicately manicured hand, palm smelling of the Miss Dior cream she'd rubbed over her hands on the car ride over. 

"Nice to meet you, Harry," she greeted, a mild smile on her face. 

His grip was strong as he grabbed her hand, palm to palm with callouses matching the soft parts of her own. "Likewise." 

(Y/N) couldn't help but to recoil some as she retracted her hand. It wasn't a new reaction, especially some people who met her after reading too much into the tabloid stories and anonymous blogs. Half the time strangers waited for her to drunkenly blow up on them. Though it wasn't a typical reaction from those who requested to meet her. 

Her father didn't seem to pay any mind to the chilled interaction, rounding the width of his desk to take his throne on the other side, leaving (Y/N) and Harry to settle beside each other across from him. 

"Remember when we decided you wanted extra guidance, (Y/N)?" her dad asked, bleached white smile on his face, "After everything with Damien recently?" 

Ice touched her spine as she took in his sticky sweet words. She knew where this meeting was going now. 

As much as he tried to hide behind the "we" words and his fake smile, (Y/N) knew this wasn't some investor sitting beside her now. 

Harry was her new cage. 

"I remember," she offered, her own voice sounding far away. 

"Well," he continued with a flourish leaning over his desk with his elbow propped on the wood, "Harry, here, is that guidance we were looking for.  He used to work for Camila and Monroe as their head of security, but he's agreed to be your personal bodyguard until you're back on track." He looked too proud of himself as he spoke. "He's going to take good care of you, sweetie."  

Bodyguard. 

Her personal bodyguard. 

When her father pitched this whole idea and sent her to her room like a child, she honestly figured it would be another handler he would find for her. While it wasn't ideal, she knew she could deal with a handler. She could deal with an uppity woman bossing her around from a distance; she could deal with painting a facade and adhering to her father's guidelines through a handler. 

But, a bodyguard—or personal security, as he so delicately put it—was a different story. 

Harry would be tasked with following her everywhere. He'd have access to her home, access to the person she was around her friends, who she was around her father. Downtime would no longer be a thing with Harry around—recovery and privacy being thrown out. 

Francesca had a bodyguard when they were teenagers. Though it was only over the summers when they weren't away at school, those months he was present were... odd to (Y/N). He wasn't a mean man, but he was always there. Franny wasn't as bothered as she was, but (Y/N) felt like there was no privacy—no space to talk to her best friend about anything. He was always there listening, watching, and anticipating any need for protection. She felt exposed in his presence, no secrets truly secret or downtime when someone constantly had eyes on them. 

If this arrangement was anything like that, (Y/N) didn't know if her sanity was going to survive these months. 

Despite her insides beginning to churn, her glossy-lipped smile stayed intact with stiff cheeks. "Wow! That's amazing!" 

Her performance must have been subpar if the way her father flashed his gaze at her, a glance that hardened a little too much. She needed to be trying harder, was what he was telling her. She wasn't being perfect like he wanted. 

"I've already warned him about your history of outbursts," her father said, a stealthy jab at her, "and we discussed everything with Damien. I think he's up for the challenge." 

It was an interesting feeling being called a "challenge" by her own father, knowing he must have shared much more degrading comments behind her back disguised as warranted advice. It was all preparation, he probably thought. A proper warning. 

She shoved that feeling down—whatever that feeling was called—and instead focused on her role. As long as she bubbled, chirped, and smiled, she could get out of this room sooner rather than later. 

"Good," she said, a breathy laugh floating out with her voice, "I'll try not to give you any surprises, then." Looking to Harry, she leaned into her persona and played along. He didn't glance at her once, keeping his gaze forward on her father as if he were watching a movie. 

"There won't be any surprises, actually, right (Y/N)?" her father said, a tad too sharp under his act. 

"Right," she settled, calming under the weight of the room. 

Silence settled over, neither she nor her father plucking up the words while Harry stayed an observing pillar. 

This was her opening. If she acted fast, she could get out of here before either of them could stop her. 

"It was really nice to meet you, Harry," she said politely, her fingers curling around the arms of her chair, "Thank you for coming to work with us. I actually have early breakfast plans with Fran tomorrow morning back in the city, so I should probably start hea—" 

"Actually," her father cut her off sharply, his eyes hardening as they landed on her, "I was hoping you would stay for dinner tonight, sweetie. After Harry and I finish ironing out his contract, I wanted to talk to you some more before he officially started with you." 

Instinctively, she wanted to fight him on this. Spending another night here less than a month after the last time she had a breakdown here wasn't on the top of her list of wants, currently. But, knowing there was someone here already expecting the worst from her, forced her to settle. If she talked back it would only reinforce everything her father probably spouted off about her earlier. 

"Okay," she smiled, standing to her feet before inching towards he door, "I'll wait in my room then and give you guys some privacy." 

While her father offered a small dismissal to her in the form of a stuff smile and a promise to call her for dinner, Harry didn't bother to look twice at her. She didn't waste a moment before she was rushing back to her room. She didn't care if they could hear the pacing of her heels over the floors, knowing she was all but running away from that room. 

After twisting the lock on her bedroom door, (Y/N) collapsed onto her bed. Her breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling a little too fast for her head to stay clear. Pinpricks of static began to dance on her palms, fingertips beginning to go numb. A hole began to develop in the pit of her stomach. 

This might be one of the last real moments of alone time for the next couple of months, and she was spending it on the verge of a panic attack. 

(Y/N) knew her dad didn't trust her, but to have someone on his payroll whose only purpose was to follow her around stung more than she was willing to admit. She wasn't a stupid child despite how much he wanted to believe that. 

Harry wasn't there to protect her, she knew that. He was a hired hand to put her back in her place every time her father wasn't there to do it himself. He was another body to crowd her into a corner and suffocate her as long as she kept smiling. Harry was another reminder that nothing was allowed to be hers; her thoughts, her time, her space was to be shared just like the rest of herself.

Besides, Harry might be the kind of person willing to sell stories to tabloids. Who better than someone tasked with observing her every mood to be an "insider"? It wouldn't be the first time a Secrets Edition came out about her. 

With her eyes fixed to a knot swirling in the marble flooring, (Y/N) tried to unlatch the phantom hands wrapped around her neck. 

What was going to be left of her if she was constantly going to be performing? 

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) fisted her hands in her lap, the hem of her Dior minidress caught in the fray. She needed to calm down. 

No matter what, she was still luckier than most people in this world. She needed to keep that in mind if she was going to keep her head on straight. She was going to figure this out, and she was going to be okay even if a tiny bit cracked at the edges. 

Curling up on her dusty bed, she leveled her breathing as much as she could despite the shuddering of her lungs. Every spiraling thought had to be neatly rolled up and put away.

A breakdown was probably on the list of banned surprises her father had in mind, anyway.

—————

Poking at her dry salad, (Y/N) watched the drops of condensation river down her glass of lemon water. Across from her, her father tore at his too-scorched steak, a side of hearty potatoes and glass of whiskey to compliment the meat. 

He hadn't said a word to her since she sat down, instead opting to focus on his tailored dinner while she was left with her pre-arranged salad. It was more lady-like, he'd told her once before, to eat like a rabbit. Leave the big things to men—they needed it after running the world, she'd heard him joke though she's sure it wasn't a joke to him.

As heavy as the silence was weighing on her, she wasn't going to be the first one to speak either. He was the one that requested she spend dinner with him, he was going to have to lead the conversation. That left only the clicking of utensils against the fine china plates. 

Suddenly piping up, (Y/N) lifted her gaze to her father's as he spoke, "You're going to have to start being nice to Harry, you know. He's not going away until I say, and I could tell you were being fake today. If you're going to lie, at least try harder."

As if her father wasn't the king of phony facades and fake personality traits. He was the one that shattered that illusion the second he couldn't hide his temper with her earlier. It didn't take much to notice he didn't actually care about her. 

Those hours in her room left her exhausted, though. She'd cried off and on until she finally convinced herself everything was fine and none of it truly mattered in the grand scheme of things; that her discomfort and fear was something minuscule enough to be pushed to the side and forgotten. She didn't have it in her to debate with him. 

"Yeah," she dejectedly agreed, running her fork through the leafy greens on her plate, "Sorry about that." 

Apparently, that was the worst thing she could have uttered with the way her father dropped his fork to clatter against his plate with his grip tightening on the handle of his steak knife. His jaw tensed, lips pinched. 

"I don't care how you feel about this, (Y/N)," he gritted out, "Don't think I don't mean that. You are going to show him some respect, listen to everything he says, and behave accordingly. Otherwise, he has full permission to correct you as he sees fit. And, he will tell me every time he has to correct you, so keep in mind that any kind of punishment he gives—mine will be ten times worse." 

She didn't doubt a word he said. If this was the kind of conversation he and Harry had after she left the room, there was no telling what kind of person her new security had to be to agree to a job with terms like these. She lacked faith in just how fairly he would "correct" her if his thoughts aligned with her father's. 

"Okay," (Y/N) mumbled, all the fight in her gone for the day. 

Her father sighed, disappointed as per usual. "This is going to be good for you," he told her, condescension tainting his tone, "I know you don't understand that now, but it will be. I just want you to settle down and stop giving people something to talk about. There's no reason to act like that if you want attention. You're pretty enough, people are already looking—there's no reason to be a bitch, too." Picking up his fork, he steadied his steak as he sliced off another too-tough bite. "Your life could be so much different—Damien might even take you back if you just apologized." 

The ice cubes in her drink slid against one another, melting in her water. "Okay." 

Chewing down his bite, her father took a long pull from his whiskey. 

"He starts with you on Friday. I told him to take a look at your apartment and make sure there isn't anything or anyone that isn't supposed to be there." His pointed gaze landed on her over the rim of his glass. "I will hear about everything, please remember that." 

His thinly veiled threat swept over her with nothing more than a meaningless brush. She kept her eyes on the drip of water traveling down the side of her glass. A melting ice cube clinked against the side. 

"Okay." 

—————

Phone pressed to her ear, (Y/N) flipped through her mail while Francesca bubbled in her ear. No matter how hard she tried to condition herself to be the same, Fran was always a much better morning person than she. 

"When do you see him again? Do you know yet, or is that a mystery, too?" Francesca was a little too excited to hear how inexpressive Harry had been in her father's office. His stoic coldness translated to mysterious heat to her. 

"My dad said he was supposed to start today, but I'm not sure. I woke up early and made an extra smoothie just in case, but he still hasn't shown." 

The envelopes in front of her were nothing but junk so far, her attention waning. 

"Ooh!" Francesca sang over the phone, "I'm so excited to meet him! We're still on for brunch this Sunday, right?" 

(Y/N) faltered where she stood, hands pausing on the collection of mail. "I don't know, Fran," she muttered, shifting her weight over the tiles of her kitchen, "I just—... He'd have to come with me." 

"I know, that's the point!" she bubbled, "You said he was cute and young, I want to meet him." 

"I know, but I wanted to talk about stuff, you know," (Y/N) pointed out. 

"And we will! You remember Barry from when we were in school, right? I promise you, your guy isn't going to care about anything going on as long as you aren't in danger," Francesca continued, referencing her security form when they were young. 

Sighing, (Y/N) wanted to correct Franny. Harry wasn't going to be eyeing out any suspects or worst case scenario moments, not if he was following her father's directions. He would be listening in and watching her for any and all infractions she could commit, including any topic of discussion that might be considered unbecoming. 

Francesca must have picked up on her lingering reluctance through the phone. "(Y/N), please," she pouted, "I know you're stressed and all about everything, but I don't want this to take you away from me. You can still live your life, you'll just have an extra shadow. That's all." 

A beat passed before she felt herself resign. "Okay, but if today is weird with him, I might be calling and cancelling." 

"Okay!" she squealed out, feeling as if this was her win no matter what, "Just keep an open mind today, and have fun!" 

"I'm sure I will," (Y/N) laughed, "Love you." 

"Love you, too! Bye!" 

With that, the call went dead leaving (Y/N)'s previous scroll through instagram lighting up her screen. Locking her phone, she took a breath to take a sip of her purple smoothie, hoping the addition of matcha and cherry juice this time would tap into some of her stress points and calm her. 

She kept up with her chosen routine for the morning, rifling through the remains of her pile of mail. Under a few more loose pieces of mail and catalogues was a navy blue envelope, stamped with silver starts and sparkling script spelling out her name. A faux wax seal laid the flap shut but gave away easily under a slight pick against the edge. Inside was an invitation to the annual 132 Gala—a benefit for the art gallery of the same name—she'd attended for the last couple of years, the dress code detailed out along with an RSVP request. Honestly, as much as she and her stylist had been anticipating the event, she almost forgot about it in the midst of all the variables entering her life. She was going to have to touch base with Dom to ensure he still had an idea in mind for her gown before she made any commitment. 

With the invitation being stowed away for later, a few more pieces of mail were thrown in the trash until she reached the final slip in the stack. She sighed when she spotted the familiar computerized script on the front. It was crumpled and creamy as opposed to a clean white. She was sure that if she had picked it up earlier in the week it would have still had that distinct woodsy scent as opposed to smelling like the inside of her mailbox. 

(Y/N) didn't need to peel open the flap to know that inside there would be a stack of glossy photos of her along with a typed letter. She knew there would be photos of her this week entering her apartment, going out with Francesca, driving to her father's, and the infamous event with Damien. Some of those photos would no doubt end up in a publication or posted along with a too-long article analyzing her outfit or body language. They always did. 

Without opening the envelope to verify her suspicions, (Y/N) bent to lay this letter with the rest in a drawer filled with junk and things she wanted to ignore. After pushing the drawer closed, she wiped every thought about her "admirer" from her thoughts. They weren't allowed to occupy her brain when there were much more pressing things to worry about. 

Flicking her gaze to the time blinking on her stove, she had to keep from rolling her eyes. While she wasn't much of a morning person, she couldn't believe her dad would allow someone to start a work day—no matter how informal—after nine a.m. With the time blinking well past ten in the morning and the sleep officially having been wiped from her eyes, she was growing unimpressed with the fact she was still waiting. 

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) centered herself, leaning back against the lip of the counter. She knew there was no reason to be upset with Harry, it wasn't like she had any say in his schedule nor was this lag truly disrupting anything for her. Her anxiety was beginning to manifest in ways she wasn't proud of and weren't helpful in any way. 

She thought some early morning yoga and a string of meditative poses would help settle her, work out that energy, but obviously none of that had the desired effect. Every time she tried to picture even what this Sunday's outing was going to be like, she wanted nothing more than to hide away and keep from encountering anyone or anything. It would be easier that way, she figured. That way she wouldn't have to explain who Harry was or why she needed any kind of security. 

Francesca was right, though. She knew that. Staying holed up and avoiding the world wouldn't do anything to get her father off her back. If it went on too long, eventually her father would begin picking out events for her to attend, and that was always a much worse outcome than just leaving her house on her own. 

Breathing the way her therapist from her teenage years taught her, (Y/N) centered herself as best she could with her bare feet on the cool tile of her kitchen. The chilled glass with her smoothie was slick against her palm, condensation dripping down the crystal. 

Everything was going to be fine. 

A buzz coming over the intercom knocked (Y/N) out of her head, her eyes flying open with her hand almost letting go of her smoothie. A stunted breath exhaled from her lungs as the moment she'd been waiting for laced together. 

She knew that was Harry waiting to be buzzed up to meet her for the second time. 

Forcing her head to clear, (Y/N) fell easily into her role of bubbly socialite. She had nothing to be afraid of, she told herself, it wasn't as if he was going to find anything her father would be ashamed of. She wasn't even his top priority, she reminded herself, her father and his company were Harry's clients, not (Y/N).

Pressing the small button on the stainless steel panel beside her front door, she dipped close to the microphone. "Good morning, how can I help you?" she asked as if she didn't already know what the answer would be. 

"Good morning, Ms. (Y/N)," answered the doorman from the lobby, the usual quiet settling in the background as he spoke, "I have a Mr. Harry Styles waiting down here for you. He said he's a part of your security team." 

"You can send him up, please," she replied, forcing a chirp to her voice. "Thank you, Claudio!" 

"Of course, Ms. (Y/N)," was all she heard back before the static went dead. Claudio was always a bit cold to her, but he never let any of the lurkers into the lobby so she'd take what she could get. 

The waiting game started again after the brief intermission, leaving (Y/N) in the silence of her apartment. She was suddenly too aware of the silk of her pajamas brushing her skin, the intricate threading on the hem of her shorts too heavy now. 

Lucky enough for her, it wasn't too long before she heard a knock reverberating through the door. It was firm and short, matching the man on the other side. 

A shot went through her system, a moment of static hitting her brain. She'd gone through worse bouts of anxiety and stressful situations, there was no reason to get worked up over something—someone—like this. 

With her mask on, complete with a reserved smile and detached gaze, (Y/N) opened her front door. The hinges glided like butter, welcoming Harry in where he stood in the hallway. 

Dressed in all black as she was starting to figure was his signature, he was waiting with an observant gaze being cast through the corridor. This was one of the few penthouse floors in the building leaving a bare space between where the elevator was stationed before leading to her front door. 

"Good morning," she told him pleasantly, "Come in." 

With a flourish, she stepped to the side with a space cleared for him to step into her apartment. 

"Good morning," he said, a slight smile on his features that appeared for a flash before he was back to his stoic state, "Thank you." 

Harry stepped in, acting as a dark spot with his fitted black t-shirt and trousers of the same shade against the understated hues of her home. (Y/N) locked the door behind him before turning to face him once more, a pleasant smile on her face. 

"How are you?" she asked, her voice even and warm despite how detached she felt. 

"Good, thank you," was his abrupt response, no followup about her own well being for the morning. He cast his gaze around her apartment, taking every corner and curve. She wasn't even sure he had properly looked at her at all since coming here. 

"Good," she said, trailing off awkwardly into the space around them. What kind of small talk do you make with a member of your security team? Especially one that didn't seem too keen on knowing their client. 

Leaning against her front door, she waited as he observed everything. He looked at her couch the same way he had looked at her days prior, as if he was compiling a list of all its attributes and deciding whether it not it had anything of value within. 

It was an odd feeling; she typically wasn't so blatantly compared to furniture to her face, that was usually left to the tabloids and internet trolls. 

Seeming to remember that she was still there, Harry stopped his game of finding everything in the room. He settled his eyes on her, a pointed look with a small pinch to his brows. 

Taking him in for that moment, she was reminded of just how pretty he was. He didn't look like the kind of man that would be guarding the models and gorgeous people, he should be one of the YSL or Gucci models that needed protecting from the crowds of people trying to get a closer look at him. Off-duty model, she figured would be the name of the article that Vogue would write about him, full of street style photos of him. 

With the green of his eyes meeting her own, he didn't waver where he stood. "Jus' go about your day like normal," he instructed her, arms crossed over his chest, "I want to learn your habits and your space first, but if you need to do anything out of the norm, let me know." 

"Okay," she sounded, voice quiet to her own ears. 

As much as she was sure she was meant to completely ignore him, she still felt odd crossing through her place towards her kitchen. She finished her smoothie and had left her blender and other supplies in the sink, so she could at least do the dishes maybe? At least that way her hands would be busy without plucking at her manicure.

Filling the sink with water, she did her best to treat Harry as nothing more than a shadow. To be fair, it wasn't that hard given the fact he barely made any noise as he traipsed around. It brought back memories of the way Barry used to hover around she and Franny when they were teenagers; it was easy to not pay too much attention to the extra body in the room, but her muscles never fully relaxed. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw him poking his head up the stairs to where her bedroom was, casting his gaze towards her ceiling, catching a view out her various windows as he went around. He was a perfect shadow dressed in black, but he seemed a bit too unimpressed for a neutral being. 

Harry stepped into her kitchen, the rubber soles of his shoes silent over the sparkling white granite flooring. "Do you have any kind of security system set up here? Cameras or anything like that?" he probed. 

Humming, (Y/N) picked up the rag she placed out for drying. "The building has some of those alarms installed with the codes and everything and there's the guys downstairs, but I don't have cameras set up in here or anything." 

Perpetually unimpressed, Harry only let out a, "Hm." 

She fixed her eyes onto her pink onyx countertops, tracing the swirling white lines in the faint pink of the stone. Why did he even care, she wanted to ask. What good would cameras in her home do when she was a nuisance outside of these walls? 

Watching as he headed down towards her guest rooms, she felt her tongue moving before her brain allowed it. "What are you looking for?" she poked, her question simple as he kept drying her dishes before placing them in cabinets. 

It wasn't like she was hiding any of the drugs or alcohol her dad surely warned him about, telling him to seek out and destroy before truly starting his job. If that was what he was toeing around her home for, he was going to be disappointed.

He didn't even turn to face her as he called back down the hallway to her, "Nothing in particular. Jus' noting things as I go; vantage points and the complete lack of any useful security around here."

Propping her hip against the lip of the counter, she let out a small sigh. Her hands twirled the rag she had used to dry her dishes, gaze following after her new security detail. 

"You don't have to pretend, you know," she started, saving them both some trouble by starting the conversation, "I know my dad didn't hire you to protect me or anything. He wants you protect the public, and his business from me." 

His ghosting footsteps came to a stop where stood down the hallway. He was in complete control as he turned to face her, that usual placid look molding his features. "Last I checked, you were my client. Not the public or your father's company." 

"But he's the one that's paying you," she countered, unwavering from the point she was trying to make, "I just don't want you to waste your time pretending to find something to protect me from." 

That deadpan look never changed from Harry's face. "'M not pretending, 'm doing my job." He paused only for a moment, his gaze bored and heavy on her skin. "Let me know if y'decide to go anywhere." 

That was the end of the conversation as far as (Y/N) was aware, Harry turning and leaving her as he went about doing whatever it was he considered to be his job. She didn't try to stop him again. If he wanted to waste his time, he could do just that. Not her problem, anymore.

Draining her sink, (Y/N) crept through her apartment to settle upon her plush couch. Clicking her television awake, she fumbled through streaming services until finally tuning into a rerun of a cooking show she was fond of. Though she couldn't quite sink into the cushions or yell to the T.V. as the contestants didn't see the obvious win she did, at least he wasn't right behind her. 

—————

"No, dad, I didn't give him any trouble yesterday." 

(Y/N) could practically hear the eyeball through the phone. "You know he's going to tell me, right? Lying won't change anything." 

It was her turn to give a petulant reaction, lashes fluttering as she almost got her eyes stuck in the back of her head. "I'm being serious. I'm not hiding anything, and I haven't even gone out or anything. There's been nothing to get upset over, dad." 

The trademark sigh of disappointment fluttered through the speaker. "What's the point of having a bodyguard if all you're going to do is stay home, (Y/N)?" 

"I'm going to brunch tomorrow with Fran and the girls," she countered, feeling her blood pressure rise over his argument. She was damned if she went out and was seen, damned if she stayed home and out of the public eye. She couldn't win. 

"Good," her father said, sounding all too pleased as if these plans were his doing, "I want him to see how you act in public, then we'll be able to start working on your problems." 

There was no argument she was going to give after that. She wasn't going to reward him or validate his claim that she is the problem. Because of course she was; it was never the photographers hounding her the second she turned sixteen, never the men around her that treated her like a tabloid bunny there for poking and prodding, and never him who didn't think to be a father for longer than it took for a flash of a camera to capture the moment. 

Dead air settled between them, (Y/N) pressing her phone to her ear with the help of her shoulder as she began to collect ingredients for her dinner. Her way of ignoring him came in redirection, instead focusing back on Harry, his new favorite person. 

"Harry thinks I should get a security system at my apartment," she offered, hoping the mention of his name was enough to get her father's head turning elsewhere. 

The beat that passed after her words showed she garnered the opposite reaction. "Did you tell him about those letters, (Y/N)?" he asked, voice hard as stone. 

Her lips thinned. "No." 

"Good. Don't." It didn't take much for (Y/N) to picture the way he was surely hanging his head over his dinner, perpetually disappointed in his only child. "Do not waste his time over those. Plenty of people take pictures with you, and if I find out you're having him worry about the one person that's actually a fan of you..." he trailed off as if she didn't know exactly what threat was about to leave his mouth, "I'm going to send you to stay with your mother." 

"Right. I won't." 

His worst punishment was always to push her off on others. The nannies she bonded with growing up, different boarding schools and summer programs, anyone that was willing to glance at her for longer than five seconds was in the running to take her off his hands. Her mother was always his favorite to threaten her with as if he knew where she was. 

(Y/N) didn't bother to listen to him anymore when it came to these moments. While she knew he'd never—could never—follow through with this particular threat, it was more than a little disheartening that he'd consider her calling for help as something that deserved a punishment. 

"Well," he started, speaking around his mouthful of whatever his chef had prepared for the night, "if I don't hear from Harry, I'll be calling you to see how tomorrow goes. Don't embarrass yourself, (Y/N). It's not worth it." 

"I know," she answered absently, her voice bored, "Goodnight, dad." 

"Night." 

Pulling her phone from her ear, (Y/N) focused on preparing the zucchini for the pasta primavera she'd been craving. Her thoughts turned methodical now that she had something structured to give her attention to. It was much easier to think when she wasn't firmly planted in her stubbornness and trying to ward off the kind of anxiety she hadn't felt since she was a teenager. 

Harry had gone home late into the afternoon yesterday, and didn't return today. He didn't tell her anything other than he'd see her on Sunday morning for brunch, but she had figured he'd have paid her another visit in the meantime anyway. It was an odd arrangement anyway, as far as she could tell. 

Stretching her memory back, Francesca's security was always there. Even when (Y/N) would spend the night or go away on trips with family, Barry was a constant shadow. The pool house in their backyard was his, an extra room for every rental or new vacation house taken into account so Francesca was never without her bodyguard. While she hadn't really wanted this, she figured Harry would be the same way—his services a button away in case of any kind of moment in need from her. 

He hadn't even taken her number down when he was over. 

It had only been a suspicion before, but perhaps her dad really had been honest with Harry: there was no real danger surrounding (Y/N), just her as the problem that needed fixing before interacting any with the public. There would be no reason for him to watch over her as she slept or be available to any emergency that might appear in his absence. 

Whatever, she figured, sliding the half-moons of her zucchini into a bowl. At least she cleaned out her guest room, something she'd been meaning to do.

(Y/N) was going to take her time alone as if it were gold. She had a feeling tomorrow was going to be rough enough without a bad night's sleep. 

—————

Swimming to the surface of sleep, (Y/N) was half aware of the sound of the static buzzing coming through her apartment. It was far enough away, the buzz panel situated by the door, that she could ignore it easily as she shifted between her sheets with her eyes cinched closed. Brunch wasn't for a few hours anyway, she knew that, and if any of the girls needed her they would have called prior. 

Soon enough the buzzing ceased, allowing her brain to fuzzy further and to retrace her steps back to her dreamland. Whatever that was, wasn't an emergency, then. 

Until the banging knocks started. 

These, she wasn't able to ignore. Forcing her eyes open, she reached for her phone on her night stand. No missed calls or texts filled her notifications, but the time of seven a.m. reflected at her. There was only one person who could be giving her this wakeup call, but there was no reason for him to be here already. 

With no contact to reach out to see if it was Harry waiting for her, she just had to trust that the doormen downstairs wouldn't send anyone up that they didn't recognize or who wasn't on the list to be cleared for her penthouse elevator. 

Her hair was a mess on the top of her head, tangled and falling out of the braid she had twisted for the night, eyes crusted with sleep in the corners, and limbs shaking from the abrupt pull from her sleep. The only clear thought she had was that she was goin to have to give him the access code to her apartment or a key after this; early morning wakeups like this were something she was ever going to be happy about. 

Swinging the door open for him during a pause in his banging, (Y/N) barely looked at Harry before she was trying to usher him in with a sweep of her hand. 

"Morning," she grumbled, voice sticky in her throat. 

"Morning," Harry reciprocated, "Are you ready?" 

"What?" she asked over the click of her lock going back into place. 

"I thought you had plans to go out with your friends this morning." His voice was bored as if he couldn't believe he was having to remind her of her own agenda.

"Yeah, for brunch," she added, "We don't have to leave for a while." 

"Hm," was all he had to offer in response. Unimpressed. 

(Y/N) didn't have it in her to care whether or not he liked brunch or thought she was silly for whatever reason. She was too tired, and her bed was too soft. 

"I'm going back to bed," she told him, edging towards the staircase to her bedroom, "You can do whatever you want." 

A beat passed before Harry offered an acknowledgement in the form of a hum. He was much more interested in investigating more of her home, she figured with the way his eyes traipsed through the space. 

The second her head hit the pillow in her bedroom, (Y/N) happily relaxed into the mattress. 

While there was a part of her that felt odd knowing that there was someone else in her home, settling in while she was elsewhere, there were other parts of her that didn't mind it all that much. She'd never felt lonely before, but she also never had known what it was like to have someone else around like this. 

Even if he was being paid to, it was nice to her soft, sleep-molded brain that he'd care if something happened while she slept.

That thought made it a little bit easier to fall asleep again. 

—————

Standing before her bathroom mirror, (Y/N) sharpened her features and pouted her lips at her reflection. With her hair pinned back and a silky robe draped over her body, she looked every bit the dreamy socialite she pictured herself as in her teens. Except for the wreck that was her makeup so far. 

Breaking her pose, she let out an annoyed grumble as she took a closer look at the section of eyeshadow that just wouldn't blend out. She felt like a toddler having a tantrum the way she wanted to stomp her foot on the ground and throw her makeup brush and eyeshadow palette away. 

Everything had been going perfect until she decided to daringly dip into a slightly deeper shade than she was used to on her eyes, and now she was stuck with a semi-sweet chocolate blob on the outer corner of her eye when she was hoping for a milk chocolate fade. And, she didn't have time to redo anything. 

Life could be so unfair sometimes. 

From down the hallway, she heard footsteps glancing over the flooring towards the bathroom. Moments later, Harry appeared in the mirror behind her, something a little more urgent than she was used to in his gaze but just as serious and uninviting as she remembered from this morning. 

When he didn't say anything, only tracing his eyes over her bathroom, (Y/N) piped up, "Is everything okay?" He hadn't come to see her once since she woke up. 

Catching her gaze in the glass, he said, "I heard you." 

"Sorry," she started, dropping her eyes to her palette of neutral powders, "I'm just annoyed right now. My makeup looks dumb, and I don't have time to redo it." 

Harry relaxed some where he stood, his arms dropping from across his chest as he leant against the doorjamb. The observations never stopped, even as she resumed trying to blend out her makeup. 

"I thought you had people to do that for you," he said, brows furrowing just a pinch. 

(Y/N) shrugged, fluffing a creamy shade over the deep mass in hopes of lightening the whole thing up enough to go out for a morning. "Sometimes; usually for really important things. Otherwise, I just like to do it myself." 

When the makeup cooperated, anyway. What she wouldn't give to have the hand of a makeup artist here to fix her mistake.

"Oh," Harry sounded behind her, silence settling between them. 

Expecting him to leave then, (Y/N) refocused on her eye makeup only for Harry to linger in the doorway. He stood there in his too-pretty glory, watching her as she worked. She felt as if each of her moves were being dissected, analyzed and broken down as if there was a chance he would have to step in. She guessed that technically was his job, though she could argue there might be much better things for him to do rather than watch her blend eyeshadow and bobby pin her hair to perfection. 

Once she had her face applied, extra blush and fluffy lashes added in hopes of distracting from her most disastrous shadow look to date (at least that's how she felt in the moment, but she was sure there were photos off er teen years that would love to beg to differ) and hair styled down to the single strand, she was left with her short robe on and her outfit picked out in her closet. Harry's eyes had documented each of her moves, grazing along her skin and observing every stretch. 

Finding that gaze in the mirror, she looked at him with a mild expression. "I just need to get dressed then we can go." 

Harry blinked at her. "Okay." 

That was all he had to say before she was left to head to her room. 

—————

Stepping through the lobby of her complex, (Y/N) couldn't help but to scope out the street as much as she could through the tinted glass doors of the entrance. Waiting on the curb was the all black SUV she called with pedestrians scattered along the sidewalks and recklessly stepping onto the street. All she was looking for was anyone lingering a little too close to the building with too nice of cameras to be normal. 

She'd always been a little cautious leaving her building once the address to her complex had been leaked, paparazzi having camped out for a week afterwards in hopes of catching her off guard, though now that Harry was going to be stepping out with her another layer was added. She could already imagine the headlines and blog posts that would be made when others caught wind of the fact she was seen with a member of the opposite sex. 

Some of her favorites loved to recount her "relationship timeline" as well as call into question her "body count" and how long this new "beau" will last. She was dreading reading those words again; it was bad enough when she actually liked one of those people in those photos with her, but Harry's new job required his presence around her. He couldn't even leave this narrative if he wanted to. 

Staying focused, (Y/N) gave a wave to the doormen standing behind the front desk though their stony faces didn't sway. Harry was quiet at her side, allowing her to take the lead as she took them out onto the street, a blast of air hitting them once the seal of the doors was pushed open. Outside, no one paid her any mind, her driver being the only person that acknowledged her with a grin on his face. 

"Morning!" she chirped, feeling more relaxed now that he was nearby. 

"Morning, (Y/N)," he greeted, opening the backseat door with a flourish for her. His gaze only shifted for a moment to her companion, but she knew he was much too polite to ask for details about any of her guests. 

Setting one foot inside, (Y/N) hesitated as she looked around the SUV door to Sully. "Sully, this is Harry," she started, tossing her hand in Harry's direction, "He's my new bodyguard"—her tongue felt odd around the word—"Harry, this is Sully. He's my primary driver." 

Sully gave her a momentary look the second he heard the word bodyguard. Out of most people in her life, he knew her almost better than Francesca, so he knew just as well as she did that a security detail wasn't something (Y/N) was in need of. Nonetheless, he kept his polite smile on his face when addressing Harry. 

"Nice to meet you, Harry," he said, offering a gentle hand out to shake. 

"Nice to meet you," Harry said with a gruff anchor to his voice. 

That was all that was shared before (Y/N) stepped into the car, Harry following behind her. Though she was sure Sully felt the same way she did about the situation, he didn't let any of it show when he took his spot in the driver's seat, his eyes meeting hers through the rearview mirror. 

"The new place still, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, please," she answered, a soft smile on her face. 

As they started the drive through the city, skyscrapers towering on either side of the street and too many people on the sidewalks, (Y/N) pulled out her phone. Though she was aware of Harry's presence on the bench seat beside her only inches away, she ignored him in favor of pulling up Francesca's text thread in her messages. 

Fran🫧

      are u bringing your bodyguard????? 

      jk ofc you are he has to come w u everywhere lol is he still cute today tho or was the other day just bc you saw him for the first time???? 

As much as she loved Franny like a sister, she didn't really want to talk about Harry at the moment. She knew much of brunch was going to be spent talking about her new security or talking around him as all of the girls were going to be varying levels of nosy about it all. (Y/N) didn't have a lot of interest in starting that trend any earlier than needed. 

Instead, she began scrolling through her Instagram explore page full of photos of nail art and cooking videos she planned on looking up the recipes for later. Ever-polite, Sully was the one to break the silence that filled the cab of his vehicle. 

"How long will you be joining us, Harry?" he asked, kind blue eyes shining in the rearview mirror. 

Uninterested as ever, Harry didn't break his gaze from where he was observing through the window. "As long as it takes for her father to be convinced that she's finally grown up." 

It was a callous remark, but one (Y/N) had heard before just in a different voice. It was an interesting thing to hear those biting words lack the familiarity of her father's tone. She'd never heard them like that before. 

Flicking her gaze up from her phone, she spotted Sully in the mirror through the fan of her lashes. He gave her one of those soft smiles he'd also seen him give his daughter before. It made it a bit easier to let that remark slide off her back when she knew he was on her side. 

"Won't be very long then," Sully continued, tipping his chin up in confidence, "It doesn't take very long to see how kind and responsible Ms. (Y/N) is, despite what all those silly magazines like to say." 

(Y/N) directed a quiet smile down at her phone. She hoped Sully knew just how much she appreciated him. 

—————

"I'll be back around noon, okay?" Sully said, offering a helping hand to (Y/N) as she stepped out of the SUV and onto the grey concrete sidewalk, "Let me know if you need me sooner or want to stay longer." 

Nodding her head, she gave him a bubbly smile with soft lips and warm cheeks. "Thank you." 

"It's my pleasure," he answered, squeezing her hand in his as she steadied herself on the concrete.

With Harry at her side, Sully was sent off with a wave from her manicured fingers. 

Though it wasn't new to feel eyes on her at time when she was out, it was different to have someone following along with her. His job was to watch her, and he made it known with the way she could feel his gaze stitched to her. He only drifted when he made a point to take in their surroundings. 

Was he even supposed to sit with them? Was he going to eat beside her? What was his job when it came to events like this? 

(Y/N) tried to think back to what Francesca's bodyguard would do, but she couldn't remember him ever joining them for a meal in public. Barry was typically meant to watch over Fran when no one else was around, leaving those group settings without him. Was Harry to do the same? Was he going to sit elsewhere or guard their table like a circling vulture? 

Her head hurt just thinking about it. Harry would do whatever he decided to do, she settled on. This wasn't his first security job, so hopefully he would do whatever he was used to with Camila and Monroe. 

Harry pushed the entrance door open for her, taking her by surprise as she stepped into the trendiest brunch spot in the city at the moment. Everything was sleek and warm, glass with golden hinges, wood pieces with uniform swirls and knots. Inauthentic authenticity. Falling into character, a bright smile landed on (Y/N)'s lips, her phone clutched in one hand with her purse hanging from the crook of her elbow. The clack of her heels was drowned out by the sound of chattering patrons and a busy kitchen. 

"Hello, how are you?" The young man stationed at the host stand greeted her, a dark denim uniform adorning his form. (Y/N) almost cringed for him; she couldn't imagine how hot it must be to work all day in a heavy outfit like that. 

"Hi, I'm good thank you," she greeted, feeling Harry just behind her as if he were breathing down her neck. How would he analyze this conversation? "I'm here to meet a few friends—there should be a reservation under—" 

Cutting her off, the boy piped up with, "Francesca, right? She and a few others just got here." 

Now that she wasn't so distracted by his outfit, she could see recognition in his gaze. He knew who she was and was definitely peeking over her shoulder to see who her companion was. 

"That's them," (Y/N) chirped, canting her head as the boy tapped away at the computer in front of him. 

"Perfect," he beamed, glancing up nonchalantly at them, "And will he be taking the sixth seat at the table?" 

A clear attempt to fish, but not one (Y/N) was going to be able to ignore. "Yes, please." 

The way the boy's eyes brightened had (Y/N) already dreading the articles that she would be tagged in across every social media platform, the headlines teasing about her new "mystery man" with all of the sources being an anonymous instagram account known for spreading gossip. Because that's journalism. 

"Follow me," he said, waving his hand as he stepped out from behind the podium.

Harry was a ghost behind her as (Y/N) made small talk with the host, answering with polite chatter about the weather while being led through the restaurant. Through the crowded tables, Francesca and the three other girls they frequently went out with came into view. Glasses of bubbling mimosas and an appetizer of cheese and crackers adorned the table, matching that of the rest of the patrons indulging in the brunch rush. 

Francesca was the first to spot them once the host dropped them off with a quiet wish for she and Harry to enjoy their food before he was off again. Fran's eyes lit up when she saw her, only for them to widen that much more when Harry came into view behind her. 

"(Y/N)," she cheered, gaining the attention of the other girls who broke their absent chatter to turn to face them. Fran no doubt had told them that (Y/N) would be bringing a guest. 

"Hi," she smiled, maneuvering around the table to the two empty seats between Emma and Rita, "Sorry I'm late. My makeup was not doing its job this morning." 

Emma piped up then, "No worries, honey! We're just happy you could make it. We already ordered a mimosa for you and some appetizers and all." 

Despite the girls seemingly talking to her, their eyes continuously drifted to her companion that ghosted behind her. Pulling out her chair, (Y/N) dropped her purse on the table before looking across from her to where Francesca was sat. Even she was pretending as if she wasn't bubbling in anticipation over Harry. 

"Thanks, guys," she said, taking her seat with Harry doing the same beside her, "Everyone, this is Harry. I bet Fran already told you a little bit, but he's going to be my personal security for the next few months or so. We're still trying to figure out how this all works for it, so thanks for letting him tag along today." 

"Of course," Kita giggled, leaning with her elbow on the table, "Fran did tell us that you were bringing someone special today." 

"Right," (Y/N) laughed, feeling slightly exposed despite the fact none of the girls were even looking at her. "I promised him we'd be on our best behavior today, so don't ruin this for me." 

The laughter that bubbled around the table was just a touch too melodious, too airy and light. Francesca even made eyes at (Y/N); she approved of him, that much was obvious. 

"I'm sure we'll still have fun with him," Toriana said, her spot right across from Harry making it easy for her to reach across and offer her hand up in greeting, "I'm Toriana, but the girls just call me Ana." 

"Nice to meet you," Harry answered, taking her hand into his in that same firm grip (Y/N) remembered. 

A domino effect started then, each of the girls taking the time to personally introduce themselves. Toriana and Kita were more than a little interested in him, asking questions right off the bat that (Y/N) wished they would keep to themselves. Franny and Emma seemed to prefer to watch, piping in at moments with their own bubbly comments or peals of laughter. Harry, reserved as ever, barely interacted. 

(Y/N) didn't know why she liked that as much as she did. Maybe it was just nice knowing she wasn't the only person he was cold with. Even if he did still end up talking to the girls more than he had all weekend with her. 

Soon enough—long enough still that (Y/N) sipped through a glass and a half of water, the cheese plate had dissipated to crumbs, and breakfast orders had been placed—the shine of Harry had finally been lost on the girls. The shorter his answers became the clearer the message that he wasn't interested in sharing became. Though Kita didn't pull too far away from him and Fran had eyes on him every few moments, there wasn't much fun in talking to a wall. 

The gossip shifted around the table, new topics being introduced as wait staff appeared to refill drained mimosa glasses. (Y/N) was seventy percent sure she saw one of the denim-clad employees pull her phone out and snap a shot of the table while clearing their small appetizer plates. No one seemed to notice the girl other than she and Harry, his eyes narrowing when he caught sight of the camera tilted in their direction. She wouldn't be surprised if the photo captured Harry's harsh gaze. 

Ignoring the snooping employee, (Y/N) tried to tune into the story Emma was sharing that had the rest of the table enraptured. As funny and kind as Emma was, she loved to gossip; she loved knowing things, even if the information had nothing to do with her. More often than not (Y/N) preferred to check out of her particularly scandalous stories, just because she knew what it was like to be the name coming off of other's lips in a spit. Francesca was the same, preferring to stay out of it all.

But, this story caught both of their attention for all the wrong reasons. 

"Then, I heard that Christal's parents are separating, because her dad also cheated with one of Christal's friends that got an internship at his company," Emma chattered, dipping her chin as if she was actually trying to keep this information a secret for only the table to hear. 

Toriana gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth with wide eyes. Leaning over the table, she conspired with Emma in a hushed tone that was far from being any level of quiet, "I heard they were separating because her mom was paying off her doctor to write prescriptions for, like, everything. Her dad is so over it, so he's supposed to be filing officially next week." 

The mention of prescriptions and doctors who didn't care to help anymore stung at (Y/N) behind her walls. It was bad enough speaking about Christal and her family dynamics when they barely knew her outside of nights partying in the Upper West Side, but those kinds of rumors weren't something (Y/N) could ever imagine repeating. Drug use and the breaking up of a marriage—no matter the reason—were things none of them should be discussing when they had no idea what was truly going on. 

It made (Y/N) think of her own parents and the years of swirling tabloids trying to figure out just how long her parents were on the rocks and what exactly had gone wrong. It was more than invasive. 

(Y/N)'s nails quietly tapped on the table as the attention was placed on her, her voice piping up once Emma finally paused for a breath, "We probably shouldn't be talking about this stuff, guys." 

Emma was the first to turn to her with a slighted look on her face, surprised to have anyone stopping her in the middle of her speculations. The remaining pairs of eyes turned to her, Francesca the only one that seemed to match her protesting while Kita and Toriana were just as taken aback as Emma. 

Saved by the bell, their waitress chose then to appear with trays of their food in her arms. Bowls of salads and plates of eggs were distributed amongst the girls, Harry's order being of avocado toast though she couldn't imagine him picking off more than a couple of bites with the way he was so focused on the scene around him. The women had settled while they were being waited on, beaming smiles and assurances that everything was perfect, they would love a refill, and whatever chattering small talk was started by the waitress in the meantime. 

It wasn't until everything had been cleared away, a plate of eggs Benedict with a kale apple salad off to the side in front of (Y/N), that Emma turned to face her once more. 

Now she was less shocked and more bewildered that (Y/N) had tried to end her conversation. "Don't you want to know what happened though, (Y/N)?" she asked, incredulous, "Her parents always seemed so obsessed with each other, doesn't that make you want to know even more?" 

"Sure," (Y/N) started, "But, it's a little too personal, don't you think? Especially if any of this is true, it's all probably really hard on Christal. I don't think it's fair to talk about it when we don't know anything about it, and she's not even here." 

That expression of furrowed brows and parted lips didn't leave Emma's face as (Y/N) spoke. "I mean I guess, but—" 

Before she could get much further, (Y/N) couldn't help but to step in. "Honestly, I'd rather hear about you and your fashion designer," (Y/N) started, leaning towards Emma with a conspiratorial smile on her face, "You haven't brought him up at all, even though you've posted him on your story at least five times now." 

Watching her friends' features light up told her just how effective her new topic was. There was nothing—not even hot gossip—Emma loved talking about more than herself. 

"You mean Stavros? What could you ever want to know about him?" Emma bubbled, acting coy with a lift of her shoulder and flutter of her lashes. 

"Stavros?! You never told me that was his name!" Kita chimed in, filling in where (Y/N) had left off. 

All it took was Emma starting with a Well... to get the table submitting again to conversation full of bubbling giggles and blushing cheeks, teases of Stavros's name and Emma's story telling about their time together so far. Even Francesca, after shooting (Y/N) a small smile, became invested in the chronicle of Emma's love life. 

Falling into silence, satisfied at the reroute of the conversation, (Y/N) finally tried the food in front of her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry observing her with calculating eyes, a pinch in his brow.

Suddenly, she felt more exposed than when dozens of cameras were posed in her direction. Was she not supposed to interfere like that? Was this new topic somehow equal to the one Emma had initially embarked on? 

Honestly, (Y/N) had almost forgotten about Harry's presence when she stepped in and redirected Emma into safer territory, but now she was wondering if she would have benefited more from keeping her mouth shut. Who knew what he would report back to her father with; how he would spin these events.

"(Y/N), don't you know his cousin? That Ferrill girl we met in Milan?" Francesca's voice chirping out her name had (Y/N) dropping back into the conversation, grateful for a distraction from what she was overthinking in her mind. 

"Oh, yeah, Ferrill! She's Stavros's cousin?..." 

—————

"You really have to go home?" 

Kita's over-pouted lips and pleading pulled a laugh out of (Y/N) as she pulled her into a hug. 

"I know, I'm sorry," she started, reciprocating her friend's hold, "You know I'd love to go with you guys if I could, but I already promised I'd call my stylist later today."

"I know," Kita whined, pulling away with her hug still around (Y/N)'s middle, "I just feel like you barely talked this morning, and I miss you."

 Despite being around them and having spent the better part of two hours with these girls, (Y/N) missed them too. Kita wasn't wrong in that she barely talked for the morning, Harry being a constant, extra fine sifter that filtered her thoughts before she even had them ready to go. It was hard to talk as freely when she knew he was analyzing every single syllable on her lips. 

"I'm sorry," (Y/N) pouted, playing along, "But, I'm sure I'll see you again soon. And, if you want, you can FaceTime me later so I can see what you got." 

Kita seemed satisfied with that answer, pulling (Y/N) in for another hug before joining the rest of the women who were beckoning to join them as they started down the sidewalk. Hugs and goodbyes had already been shared amongst the rest of them, Francesca promising to text her before she even had a chance to make it home. 

With a final wave from the three of them and calls of "Bye, Harry!", (Y/N) was left by Sully's car with an extra shadow. 

The truth was, she couldn't imagine trekking down Fifth Ave with Harry following behind her. It was uncomfortable enough to have him sit and eat with her, even more so thinking about him watching as she chattered with her friends and tried on different pieces of clothing. 

"Ready to head home?" Sully asked, hand poised on the handle of the back passenger seat for her. 

"Yes, please," she sighed, eagerly stepping in when he pulled open the door for her.

Following behind her, Harry settled in beside her in the back seat, the faux-leather soft under their weight. Sully smoothly integrated himself within the New York traffic, maneuvering around in ways that made (Y/N) that much more grateful that she wasn't the one in charge. 

Decompressing, her eyes fluttered closed with her shoulders untensing. It wasn't until now that she realized just how tightly she had been wound during the meal. No wonder she could feel the beginning band of an ache forming in her head. 

Breaking the static silence in the cab, Harry asked, "Is it always like that?" 

"Like what?" (Y/N) pressed, brows knitting together in the middle though her eyelids didn't flutter. 

She could hear the sound of him shifting against the leather. "Like, everything going on at once?" 

"A little," (Y/N) admitted, the words leaving on a breathing laugh, "This was on the tamer side. Usually, Toriana will try to debate everyone into agreeing to get a mimosa tower for the table—that's when things start happening all at once." 

A beat passed, (Y/N) assuming he was fine with the stopping point of the conversation until he spoke again. 

"Y'didn't drink today." 

Though it was less of a question and more of a statement, she still answered with, "No." 

"Why not?" 

Shrugging, her clothing shuffled against the faux-leather. "I don't really like drinking this early—it makes me too tired, so I don't usually do it." 

Despite the fact she didn't hear his voice again, (Y/N) could feel Harry's eyes on her through the remaining drive to her apartment.

—————

Laid flat on her back on her bed, (Y/N) raised her hand to look at the time on her phone once more. The closer the clock numbers to ten a.m., the more she wanted to curl up in her sheets. 

Dressed in her pastel pink workout set with her hair braided back and tennis shoes on her feet, (Y/N) was more than ready to head to her pilates class. She wanted to luxuriate in her poses and breathing, get a smoothie afterwards as her cooldown, and live her normal routine. The only problem was Harry. 

Though she loathed to admit it, she knew he was supposed to accompany her. Even if he wasn't policing her at home, she knew there were no exceptions to the rule of him going with her throughout her day should she chose to go out and about. That was the whole point of his job. 

She wanted to do as Francesca had told her—that she still needed to live her life even if it was with an extra shadow—, but, even with the fact that the Sunday brunch had gone well enough, taking Harry to her pilates class was completely different. She lacked friends in her class anyway, and this wouldn't make it any better. Most of the women already judged her enough, adding Harry into the mix wasn't going to help her case in not looking as pretentious and spoiled like they thought. 

Maybe, she could get away with only sending him a text? It wasn't as if she were going to an event or a high-profile dinner. Maybe her dad wouldn't care, leaving Harry to not care either. There wasn't much trouble she could get into while controlling her breathing and wiping sweat off the back of her neck, anyway. 

Looking at the time once more, she saw the minutes click that much closer to the start time for her usual session. Her chest rose as she pulled in a deep breath. 

If she wanted to get there on time and get a good spot, she was going to have to text Harry and move on. Sully was on the way anyway, she had to make her choice now before she had to cancel the car and instead curl up in bed just like she had been for three days since brunch. 

The sound of (Y/N)'s nails tapping at her phone screen filled her room as she made to sit up amongst the folds in her duvet.

     morning, harry! just wanted to let you know that im headed to my pilates class right now. it should end around 11 and i'll probably grab a smoothie after, so i'll be on my way back to my apartment after that. lmk if you need anything like to get into my apartment or anything like that before im home ! 

As soon as she pressed send with the blue bubble inflating against the dark background, she locked her phone. She couldn't overthink this whole thing anymore. She had plans she needed to stick to if she wanted to stay normal. 

The notification that Sully was downstairs waiting for her couldn't have come soon enough, not when she finished packing her things much too quickly. 

"No Harry?" Sully asked once she was secure in the back seat, the morning sun shining on the grimy streets of the city. 

Avoiding his gaze in the rearview mirror, (Y/N) shook her head. "Not today." 

—————

Buzz-buzz.

(Y/N) cinched her eyes closed tighter at the sound of a phone vibrating deep in someone's bag. her breathing came in even waves, chest rising and falling in even measures. 

Buzz-buzz.

One of the other students faltered on their breathing, the teacher pausing just a second too long in-between instructions as everyone heard the incessant noise.

"Now, take a breath and stretch into your high plank," the morning's instructor directed, voice calm in the middle of the studio, "Keep the height to your comfort, no reason to strain past a slight burn." 

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) listened with her hands planted solidly on the mat under her. Her back stretched slowly, legs keeping her steady as she fell back into the rhythm of the session.

Until another round of buzzing started, this string clearly from a phone call that was going to be ignored. 

The strength in her core faltered with her eyes cinched to a tight close at the sound.

(Y/N) knew good and well that it was her phone that was going crazy at the bottom of her bag, but there was no way she was going to make that obvious to anyone else in the class. She was sure a good chunk of them already assumed it was her anyway, but that didn't mean she had to admit to it. 

Instead, she kept up with the poses and the directions given, ignoring the device as best as she could. She was going to enjoy this class as much as she could before she would be forced to renter her reality.

She already knew what kind of notifications were waiting for her, anyway. Either Francesca and the girls randomly decided to start up another group chat, or Harry wasn't pleased with her decision to head out for the day with nothing more than a text sent his way. Either way, (Y/N) didn't want to deal with either of those things at the moment. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but would the owner of the phone that keeps going off, please, either silence or turn off your phone for the remainder of the class? I'm sure the class would appreciate the chance to keep their focus without any more interruptions." 

Despite her tone of voice being respectful and calm as ever, (Y/N) knew the instructor was pissed. No matter how well-paying her clients were, there was no way she could keep standing for disruptions like this. Blinking her eyes open, she saw the rest of the class on the same level as their instructor: just as annoyed but feigning calmness as if the last half hour hadn't been spent ignoring phone call after phone call with text messages in between. 

She couldn't get up now, (Y/N) thought. Not when everyone was waiting to see who the culprit was so they could shoot daggers with their gaze. She could only imagine what the post-class powwow of complaints would sound like. 

(Y/N) cringed when her phone went off once more, the device rattling against a tube of lipgloss to make it that much lounger. 

Fuck. This was worse than waking up and seeing drunken photos of her posted. At least then she didn't have a dozen other people staring at her in the process. 

When her phone went off once more in what she hoped was a reminder notification and not another set of messages coming through, (Y/N) couldn't take it anymore. She had to fix this if she wanted to at least be welcomed back. 

Just as she went to break her pose, a clatter could be heard on the other side of the door. Muffled voices broke through the curated tranquility of the studio, sounding more and more aggravated as they drew closer to the room she was in. The doorknob twisted, resistance found on the other side when a clear "Sir!" was called through. 

A beat later, that resistance was broken, Harry barreling through the door. With a furrow pinching his brow and a blaze in his eyes, he looked just as bitter and grumpy as a stereotypical bouncer and not the seasoned security detail he was. His usual uniform of all black was crumpled and creased with his hair a mess on the top of his head. 

"Sir, there is a class in session!" A voice (Y/N) recognized from the front desk of the studio burst in behind him. Harry didn't flinch back for even a second. 

The second his gaze landed on her, his jaw hardened. "(Y/N)," he gritted out her name, "Come here, now." 

Having crumbled from her pose to sit with her legs folded underneath her, (Y/N) felt stuck where she sat. She could practically spot steam coming from the top of Harry's head. Her skin heated when she felt others' eyes land on her. 

This was definitely much, much worse than if she had just answered her phone. 

"Harry," she started, unsure of what exactly she was going to say but feeling as if she needed to say something anyway. 

His nose flared. "Sully is waiting outside. Let's go." 

There was a finality in her tone that had her scrambling to collect her things as soon as possible. The room was silent as she messily rolled her mat and clumsily stepped into her shoes. 

A mumbled thank you was offered to the silent instructor as she passed, a matching apology being told to the class though she was sure both sentiments fell on deaf ears. (Y/N) was definitely going to have to switch studios again. 

She wasn't surprised to see the rest of the studio having fallen in line, patrons and classes quiet and paused after the ruckus caused on her behalf. (Y/N) could only imagine the photos others snapped of her following after Harry like a puppy with her tail between her legs. She already knew what this was going to look like—the loud scene as well as following after Harry the way she was. 

Sully didn't say anything when (Y/N) quickly slipped into the backseat, Harry coming after with a loud slam of the door behind. 

The interior was almost humid with the way Harry fumed beside her, his arms a tight cross over his chest and his jaw anchored closed. From the corner of her eye, she could see the way his fingers were curled into fists under the shelter of his arms. 

(Y/N) felt silly to be sitting there with her cardigan and leggings, hands in her lap like a reprimanded child. 

The silence stretched on as Sully pulled away from the curb, routing directly back to her apartment without question. 

It wasn't until there was a stop in the traffic that any of them dared to speak a single word. Of course, it was Harry.

"I don't know what you were thinking this morning," he started, voice deceptively calm, "But, you almost cost me my job with that stunt." 

Staying quiet, she didn't know what to say. Honestly, she hadn't really thought about it like that when she left without him this morning. She had only been considering the pit in her stomach and how much she hadn't wanted to disrupt her own life. She acted just as selfish as she was sure Harry thought her to be at her core. 

From the corner of her eye, she could see the way Harry's gaze on her profile sharpened. She kept her eyes on her hands. 

"I thought we had a good understanding after this weekend, but I think I need to make a few things especially clear for you," he started, (Y/N) finally chancing a look at him. Harry's gaze steeled when she matched him. "When I was given this job, I was told to go with you everywhere, and 'm sure you were told the same thing. I don't care if you think your fathers's company, or the 'public' or whoever you think is my client, because that is not the truth. You are my client, and if you make trouble like this again, I will lose my job. Because of you." 

(Y/N) had never been reprimanded like this before, not as fat as she could remember. Her father's scoldings had never been this effective, even when she was young enough to still care what he had to say. 

Her throat was dry as she piped up, hoping to explain herself, "It was just my pilates class. I didn't think it would be a big deal." 

That seemed to be the very worst thing she could have said with the way Harry's shoulders tensed with hot air with his jaw quirked. His eye contact was unwavering as he glared at her. 

"I knew I was going to have to babysit you, but I didn't think it would be this much of a problem. Going forward, I do not care where you are going, I am going with you. I know you don't want me here, so the quicker you follow this and get over whatever princess complex you have after getting everything handed to you, the quicker we'll both be free of this contract. Please keep that in mind the next time you decide to go off with just a text." 

Harry's tone was harsh and grating, flaming hot underneath the calm facade he was just well-versed with as her own bubbly princess role. He could rival her father in just how much disdain he held for her. 

She couldn't blame his perception of her, really. With the way both her father and the media spoke of her, she could only imagine the kind of person she looked to be in his eyes. 

Nonetheless, (Y/N) could still feel that sting of hurt. 

But, he was right. Now, she knew where they stood. Now, she could try harder to get over her princess complex and show her father she didn't need a ghost and everything could go back to normal. 

If she tried hard enough, she could hopefully still make it to spend the winter in Francesca's family's Swiss cabin free of an extra shadow. That was a goal she could work towards this summer. 

"I understand," she told him, checking out of the conversation now that she had her own plan working in the background, her own terms to follow, "I'm sorry I put you in that position. I didn't mean anything by it, I just didn't think it was the kind of thing to bother you over." 

Deflating some, Harry blinked, his gaze falling down her features. "Okay," he settled, golden flecks swimming in his irises, "Now, we're both on the same page." 

(Y/N) quietly agreed with a small nod. 

The rest of the car ride was silent.

—————

Without a second thought, (Y/N) stowed the newest heavy, photo-laden envelope into her drawer of the others. She already knew what kind of pictures would be inside and the kind of story her admirer had spun in her honor. It would be the same photos that had been distributed by the same anonymous Instagram blog that always posted them along with the same story that all the tabloids picked up the next day. 

According to the internet as well as a few gullible publications, (Y/N) had shown up drunk to her class and Harry had come to collect her. Harry was also no longer her mystery man, and now her affair partner that she had cheated on Damien Moore with. Damien was also reportedly very hurt to be seeing her with Harry after everything that had gone down. Broken-hearted by the ice queen, one publication had been so bold to claim. Blurry photos accompanied the articles and tweets, with her looking to Harry with watery eyes ("alcohol-glazed") like a reprimanded child as she followed him out. 

Her admirer had no doubt clung to the claims that she was in a romantic relationship, their own version of events meandering around it all to erase the legitimacy of the claims along with photos of her back at her apartment without him to solidify their theory. While they would be right this time, that she and Harry were not linked in any way but professional, it still didn't make her feel very safe knowing they had gone to the length they did to verify as much as well as send a letter to prove it all. 

It'd been days since the incident and one day since the news hit the circuits, and (Y/N) was more than comfortable hiding out at her apartment to ensure she wouldn't have to deal with anyone, including Harry, until her nail appointment on Thursday. The whole thing was more than stupid, full of baseless claims and low-quality photos. It didn't deserve her attention. 

The only thing that had truly caught her off guard, was the lack of phone calls from her father. A full day had passed with the story being tweeted and mocked, and yet there was no scathing text message or berating call sent to her phone. This was just the type of story that would have him up in arms and fuming all throughout the mansion. The longer it didn't come, the more she felt on edge. 

Her father was built on being predictable, so when he deviated from the norm she couldn't help but to fear the worst. 

Ignoring it all for the time being, (Y/N) returned to her kitchen eager to take her mind off things in the form of trying out one of her stored up recipes. 

While she didn't usually have the chance to share it with others, cooking was one of (Y/N)'s favorite pastimes—a therapeutic hobby. She liked putting flavors together and the technique that went into making everything just the way she liked it. There was structure to it all—even the bendable rules gave her guidelines. 

Especially when she was attending her private school and spending her time in dorms and weekends alone at her parents' home, food was the one thing she could control that gave her a routine. She liked making cute meals and lunches for her friends at school and taking advantage of the illustrious pantry and fridge she had at home. It was easy to nurture her love for it when there was no other outlet open for her feelings. 

While there was nothing special she could imagine herself doing with her passion like she was sure that her father would have wanted, it didn't cheapen the love for her at all. It was the easiest way to fill herself with love even when she felt as if everything around her was hateful. 

Turning her phone to silent, (Y/N) happily turned on a rerun of her favorite cooking competition show, and started on her own meal. 

—————

élan is a French word that describes the sense of a movement coming; the grace with which time moves towards the next chapter

eeeek! thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and please lmk if theres any fun ideas or thoughts you have!

[minjix]

cinderella → Vinnie Hacker x female!reader

summary: in which you’re the one catching his attention

warnings: fluff, and that’s a warning of itself lol + plus the standard swear word here and there. also I can’t for the life of me write an ending, so I apologize if it feels abrupt-because it is lol. also keep in mind that english is not my first language.

a/n: I write with breaks to actually be able to give it my all and not lose interest in writing- which is a genuine fear of mine

word count: 2.6k :)

masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

It was all a stupid cliche in your eyes as you stared at the tweet Vinnie had posted. “who is she.” Simple as that, yet mostly everyone knew what he was referring to, but they didn’t know whom and Vinnie didn’t know either.

Like previously stated, it was all a stupid cliche- a masquerade party filled to the brim with influencers and small celebrities, crowding a huge mansion which felt tiny as you pushed your way through to get a much needed breath of fresh air, away from the liquor stained breaths.

You sighed in relief as you stepped into the cool L.A, two am breeze, the music thumping through the ground, vibrating your whole body. “I feel the same way,” a dark voice chuckled. Startled, you looked into the direction of which the voice came from, and there he stood, leaning on the wall, head tilted back and eyes on the night sky. He was dressed simple, something you rolled your eyes at, and his arms of which were folded in front of his chest was covered in tattoos. “Huh?” Was all that you managed to get out, your tongue deciding to twist on itself.

The corners of his mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile, but refrained from doing just that. “Wanting to get away for a few minutes,” his voice was velvety and , his skin shone red from the neon lights seeping through the huge windows.

“Oh- yeah, you answered stupidly, “totes.” You wanted to smack yourself. A laugh rumbled his chest and escaped from his lips as his head tilted in your direction, his eyes meeting yours. “Totes? Never heard that before-in real life that is.” Duh, because you’ve spoken like a bad stereotypical surfer dude.

You didn’t know how to respond so you simply nodded your head, very aware of his eyes trailing down your body. A tattooed hand entered your peripheral, “I’m Vinnie,” he introduced himself. It was then more sober you connected the dots, of course it’s Vinnie the Hacker. The only disguise he had was a black eye mask with black crystals in intricate designs; it looked expensive and it most definitely was, knowing who he was and all. You hadn’t bothered to wear a mask, but had regretted that decision the moment you stepped into the mansion.

You didn’t shake his hand. “Cool,” you shrugged mentally preparing yourself with whatever half assed excuse you could come up with to leave. ‘my apartment is on fire’ don’t want to jinx myself you thought afterwards. “Um, nice to meet you?” You sounded awfully unsure, and guilt brewed in your stomach when you saw Vinnie wince. “So,” he began carefully, trying to get an understanding,” what’s your name?”

But you didn’t feel like answering. “I’m hungry.” You spat out and his eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m hungry, so I’m going to leave. Bye.” You turned to leave but a careful grasp of your arm halted you, “do you want to get McDonalds with me? I’m kinda hungry too.” He sounded shy, and you couldn’t even imagine turning him down, he looked like a sad puppy for Christ sake.

“Sure.”

The drive to the fast food chain was surprisingly comfortable, even though Vinnie tried his best to get you to tell him your name; to no avail. And soon enough the two of you were seated by the window, both with big macs in hand, awkwardness thrown out the window as the alcohol induced hunger made everything taste oh so much better.

“so fucking good,” Vinnie groaned through a mouthful causing you to almost choke on your fourth bite. Your eyes didn’t leave his form, his hair in a disarray and his eyes closed as he ate the burger.

You forced a chuckle, “won’t your friends get mad or something?” You mumbled, playing with your fries. The tattooed man shook his head, “no? Why would they?” His eyes were on yours now and you couldn’t help but feel bare under his intense gaze.

“You kinda ditched them…” you trailed of as a smirk grew on his lips, his tongue quickly darting out to lick them. “Trust me they won’t notice.” He sounded sure. “Why?” You asked and this time he laughed softly, “you’re very curious, huh?” You shrugged, “I guess.”

He continued, “but no, they were pretty busy trying to get laid so I really doubt they’d notice me missing.” He stressed the word ‘really’.

“Oh.” He laughed again as he stared you down, “you’re really weird, y’know that?”

“Thanks?”

You and Vinnie had spent an hour talking nonsense, and when the two of you noticed the hard stares from the workers you both decided to leave. Vinnie had insisted on dropping you off at home but an uncomfortable feeling grew in the pit of your stomach as you politely declined, telling him a white lie to soothe his worries about leaving a girl in the streets of LA at three am.

——-

The morning after, curiosity had you in its grip as you reluctantly opened Twitter and searched for his handle.

@/vinniehacker: who is she. posted at five am. Quicker than lightning you exited the app, contemplating on deleting it completely, but you refrained from doing it.

You grew frustrated at yourself, you had an amazing night last night with an amazing attractive guy, and you full out blew everything to bits.

Your best friend tended to call you a flesh ball of anxiety, a saying that left a sour taste in your mouth and cheeks aching from faking a laugh. You were a people pleaser, but at the same time you hated everyone and preferred to be by yourself. So you did everything to stay out of the spotlight, simply rooming with your childhood best friend who went viral on TikTok months ago. And Vinnie was the opposite of staying out of the spotlight.

Before your brain had caught up to what your hands were doing, you had already entered the cursed bird app again, entering his handle, tapping on the tweet and reading through the comments. ‘she????’, ‘what?!’, all in a similar fashion. Speculations were thrown left and right and thirty minutes had passed of you endlessly scrolling, biting your lip raw until you tasted iron.

“Get up! We have an event to go to!” You wanted to cry, to come up with a lie that you were sick and didn’t want to spread it further. You lied a lot, at least tried to before your brain took you through the endless possibilities of consequences coming from said lies. So you heaved a sigh and got ready.

———-

The event was extremely overcrowded and overwhelming, the LA sun beaming down on bodies dripping in expensive perfumes, a cloud of strong smells begging for a headache to form. You were a plus one, a non famous one at that, so you stood awkwardly to the side as your friend and her famous friends took promo pictures. In your hand was a mimosa, minus the champagne, so orange juice.

You didn’t bother to keep up the happy charade, settling on frowning while sipping your expensive orange juice. You had half a mind to ask what brand of juice it was but decided that you were already looking stupid so there was no point of making it worse.

You were painfully aware of how lonely you looked so you grabbed your phone and entered the weather app, wondering how the weather in Hamburg was.

“So, uh, how’s the weather looking?” A velvety voice asked from above your right shoulder, warm air tickling your skin and you froze. Shit. “Uhm, cloudy with a chance of rain,”

You turned towards him and tried not to gape at what you saw. He was wearing a half buttoned white blouse with his hair slicked back except for a few strands in the front. He wore black and expensive looking trousers, and silver rings wrapped around almost each finger with a silver braided bracelet. His sleeves were rolled up revealing his tattoos on his sun kissed skin. And he smelled so fucking good.

He gave you a mischievous grin, “hey, you.” His eyes trailed over your form, several times with a glint in his eyes. You whispered a hey back, flustered for some reason and you were also ashamed, for what, you had no idea.

“I never got your name,” he muttered, his hands in his pocket. You could only shrug, words not agreeing with you. And there it was, that nauseating shameful feeling you got, you were ashamed of yourself for some reason, well you know why, but actually taking the bull by its horns are the hard part.

“I know,” he frowned at your answer, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re not going to give me your name, so I’ll just have to call you Cinderella then. “ he smiled smugly at the end of his sentence, as though he had conquered the world with his pinkie.

“Cinderella?” You asked confused and a smit insulted. “I didn’t drop my shoe…” you trailed off, combing through your memory, and sure enough, you had both your shoes on, or you would’ve noticed otherwise.

He laughed out loud, his teeth on full display and eyes closed. “No, you didn’t drop your shoe. But you did leave me with not being able to stop thinking of you…” he said, his eyes unrelentingly searching yours as if he could simply read your name in your irises. Your eyes widened and you felt as though your stomach was turning inside out. This has to be a cruel joke, you thought to yourself as you glared at him.

“That’s not funny,” you murmured through clenched teeth. He looked confused, brows furrowed. “It-it wasn’t a joke,” he said sheepishly. He looked genuinely hurt, and it made you doubt your insecurities.

“I genuinely had a great time with you last night, and I want to get to know you.” He kept his eyes on yours the entire time. “So please, what’s your name?” He sounded desperate, as though your name would unlock every story there was to know about you.

“Y/n,” you whispered and you watched in awe as he tested your name on his tongue, several times before settling with a “I like it, it suits you.” Vinnie telling you that your name suits you felt like a thousand suns were shining down on you. You bit your lip to repress the grin that was threatening to grow and instead you settled for a shy smile, praying that you didn’t have anything between your teeth.

“Y/nn!” A voice called, it seemed as though your friend had finished with her promo pics. “I got you a goodie bag-oh,” she paused when she saw the Vinnie Hacker standing beside you. “Hey,” she smiled and fluttered her eyelashes and a boulder dropped into your stomach. Of course, you thought. She’s so much prettier than me, and famous.

He only nodded in acknowledgement with a small ‘hey’, it didn’t deter your friend from asking a lot of questions. You took that as your queue to leave, slowly walking backwards whilst Vinnie’s eyes were on yours the entire time, looking confused as to what you were doing.

You quickly nodded towards your friend, who was still animatedly talking, whilst wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, ignoring the knot in your stomach.

Once again Vinnie looked confused before the dots in his head connected. His eyes widened before he shook his head, something your friend hadn’t noticed as she was too busy scrolling through her TikTok to show Vinnie a specific video of her. He mouthed the word ‘NO’ several times whilst staring at you with his wide eyes.

It was kind of endearing to watch him panic. A chuckle escaped you before he turned to your friend, an apologetic smile on his face. “Excuse me,” he said softly, eyes still on you before walking towards, grabbing your hand with utter care before he led you inside the building.

He stopped in an empty hallway, staring down at you with a smirk on his lips. “Trying to set me up with your friend,” he murmured lazily, eyes tracing your lips. “When you know fully well that I’m interested in you…”

It felt like a fever dream, and you had to mentally force yourself to focus on the situation at hand. Is Vinnie about to kiss me?

“You don't even know me,” you retaliated, a frown on your lips, your lips of which he still stared at. He shrugged at your answer, a serious look taking over his face. “So let me,” he began. “Let’s get out of here.”

You shook your head, “I can’t just leave my friend-“.

He interrupted you, “your friend who seemed very busy, in fact, I recall you standing by yourself.” You had nothing to say to that except for a gentle nod with a smile on your lips. Vinnie grinned in return before tugging out of the building and into his car. You had sent a simple text to your friend-‘ i’m going out, don’t wait for me <3’

————————-

Vinnie treated you to McDonalds, once again and took you to a look out, the city of angels to stare at whilst you both ate. His shoulder touched yours as you sat on the picnic blanket filled to the brim with greasy and mouth watering food.

“So tell me, how come I can’t find you anywhere?” He asked, his hand playing with yours, twisting your rings. It created a warm feeling in your stomach.

“I’m a private person,” you began, hearing Vinnie murmuring a ‘couldn’t have guessed,’ and you nudged your shoulder into his playfully, drawing a laugh from his lips. “I guess, uhm I don’t see myself in the spotlight, having people constantly judging my every move.” He nodded in agreement, looking lost in thought.

“I can understand that, it’s just unusual to see someone not famous in parties held by influencers.” You nodded, agreeing with him. “My friend is pretty famous and always makes me her plus one.”

“I like it though,” you stared at him confused whilst he stared at you with a small smile on his lips, almost looking shy. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to explain…” he looked lost in his thoughts.

“Try,” you pushed, his hand tightening around yours.

“I like that I can pursue this,” he gestured whilst you stared at him with wide eyes. “That you’ll be somewhat safe from the onslaught of comments you would’ve gotten if you were a public figure. This feels normal to me, y’know. Like it’s not for show, it’s just me and you.”

“Me and you?” You asked with a grin, his smile grew and he gave you a wink, “of course, this is our second date after all.”

“Is that so?” You bit your lip when he leaned towards you, his lips so close to touching yours, before he planted a small, almost phantom-like kiss on them. “It is so,” he gauged your expression before ultimately seeing the contentment in your eyes, and pressed his lips to yours firmly. You felt his hand grasp your cheek as he tilted his head to gain more access.

You were both breathing heavily before you disconnected your lips, but Vinnie took it upon himself to kiss your cheeks before traveling down your neck, leaving you even more breathless.

“I’m taking you on dates everyday this week,” he breathed into your neck and you felt your eyes roll back from the sensation and his sultry voice.

“I expect you to-“ he stopped you from talking with another kiss. “Shut up and kiss me,” he ordered and you did, for several hours, the once bright sun in the middle of sky, now dipping down on the horizon covered by the Los Angeles skyline.

[salethe2]

I’ve seen a lot of takes on this scene, and honestly they’re all so interesting, so I decided to give my perspective.

Okay, starting with Armand’s costume, which Carol Cutshall absolutely nailed. Here’s what she said about Armand’s costume design:

—“One of the things about Armand is he is so ancient and so powerful that he always presents himself as very open. Whereas some of the other characters are very covered up, he’s always very open because he really doesn’t see anyone as a threat to himself. He didn’t have any predators or any reason to be on guard, or be armoured.”

Personally, I find this design choice fascinating because, despite being a predator at the top of the food chain, vampires like Armand, especially as a coven leader, would normally need to remain vigilant. Yet, he’s completely at ease, even surrounded by other vampires.

I mean, look at him here. Sure, it’s not the deep, open V-neck shirts he wears in the interview scenes, but his outfit is still loose and open. And he’s literally surrounded by a group of vampires he knows are plotting against him. He even has his back to said vampires and yet, he’s not the least bit nervous in either situation!

Even with Daniel, he’s not nervous or afraid because he doesn’t initially see him as a threat.

So, if Armand isn’t scared of his own coven—a bunch of vampires ready to kill him at the first opportunity—or Daniel, who could potentially expose all his manipulations, then why on earth does he go into full armor mode to meet a seemingly inconsequential human he’s never encountered before? He’s literally in a turtleneck, shielding his most vulnerable area for crying at loud!

A for body language—honestly, Assad Zaman deserved an Emmy for this scene. We see Armand being aloof, a little suave and condescending, employing the whole, “I’m a four-century-old vampire; you’re just a lowly human” tactic. It’s like he’s sizing her up, wanting to understand who she is while simultaneously aiming to provoke her, curious to see how she will react.

As for his questions, he frames them in the way you might expect a coven leader to interrogate a human he’s about to turn. Questions like, “How will you survive? Are you okay with killing people and being a monster?” It almost seems like he’s trying to make her reconsider her decision to turn, but it’s all a facade.

Because the question he really wants to ask is the last one, and when he finally approaches it, his entire demeanor shifts.

He sheds the suave demeanor and shifts to a more serious tone, embodying what Louis describes as his "post-apocalyptic look." He towers over Madeleine, gazing down at her in an attempt to intimidate. At this point, Madeleine's expression turns genuinely nervous, perhaps even frightened—and understandably so. Yet, she holds her ground. It's then that Armand poses the crucial question he had come specifically to ask.

“And what will you do in a few decades when she throws herself into the fire? Because she will.”

Now, why does this question seem familiar? It’s because Armand has previously made a similar statement to Louis. He had forewarned Louis that Claudia’s mind was bound to deteriorate over time. Now, Louis tearfully countered that Armand couldn’t be sure of this, yet part of him probably recognized the truth in Armand’s words, which likely contributed to his emotional plea for Armand to look after her.

Armand realized then that Louis, despite his deep love for Claudia, lacked the resolve to keep her grounded, effectively sealing her fate, which seemed all but inevitable by that point. He even assigns Claudia the role of Lulu as a way to infantilize her and further break her spirit—almost as a test to gauge Louis’ reaction. Unfortunately, Louis does nothing about it, while Madeleine clearly recognizes it for the manipulation it is.

And what does she do next? Madeleine quickly gets Claudia out of that outfit and into one more fitting for her. By doing this, she threatens Armand’s plans without even realizing it.

It’s also interesting to note that the only time Armand is ever truly angry with Claudia is when he sees her with Madeleine. This reaction underscores the threat he perceives in their bond, disrupting his control of the situation, and here is why.

When Armand posed the question to Madeleine about what she would do when Claudia throws herself into the fire, her response was:

“Or maybe she won’t. You don’t know. Maybe I’m what she needs to survive.”

And the way she meets his gaze as she says this marks a shift in their conversation. Throughout their entire conversation, Madeleine often looks away and breaks eye contact, but not in this moment. Here, she meets his gaze head-on. Even though she is clearly nervous, and likely a bit scared, she holds his gaze because she is sure of her words. This is a powerful moment where Madeleine not only asserts her belief but also turns the tables—now, it’s Armand’s turn to feel uneasy.

Of course, you don’t see it in his face, but it’s evident in his body language. The way he becomes closed off, his hand fidgeting, and his gaze fixed ahead as if deep in thought. He doesn’t even refute her.

Even with Lestat, when he warns him about Nicky, Armand doesn’t stay silent; he confidently affirms his insights, and Lestat—of all people—clearly believes him. But with Madeleine, it’s a different story. He goes silent, not uttering a word in response. He doesn’t attempt to persuade her because he recognizes that her mind is made up, her resolve unshakable. But perhaps the words that really hit home for him were “You don’t know.” This was probably the words that sealed Madeleine’s fate because the last thing you want to say to a master manipulator and control freak like Armand is that they don’t know something. Because now, all of a sudden Claudia’s death isn’t a certainty anymore and he can’t just sit back and wait for her to lose her sanity. He must take matters into his own hands now.

Anyway, one might think that Madeleine and Claudia leaving, thereby leaving Louis all to Armand, would satisfy him. After all, one of the first things he asks Claudia and Madeleine is if they’re considering returning to Paris, and you might assume Madeleine’s answer pleased him. However, her answer doesn’t satisfy him, not after what Madeleine says soon after.

Madeleine’s words confirm that Claudia indeed loves Louis, and because Madeleine loves Claudia, she persuades her to return to Paris despite her obvious and valid disdain for the city. This revelation proves to Armand, even if they leave Louis, Madeleine and Claudia will always remain a significant part of Louis’s life. For Armand, this is intolerable. To him, Claudia is a dangerous manipulator and a competitor of Louis’s attention.

So even if they all lived happy, separate lives, Armand’s nature is such that he cannot live with the doubt and fear that Claudia might draw Louis away from him. Having been abandoned too many times in his life, deeply wounded by those closest to him, and left behind for others, he cannot risk experiencing that pain again.

Thus, in that moment when he speaks to Madeleine in the apartment, he decides that both she and Claudia need to be eliminated. I believe this was the real reason Armand was there under the pretense of turning her. He needed to evaluate how much of a threat Madeleine posed to his plans, and upon realizing she was basically a live grenade, he knew he needed to act swiftly to get rid of her. Because as long as Madeleine is present, so will Claudia, and as long as Claudia exists, Louis will never truly belong to Armand.

[chronicallycouchbound]

Let People On Food Stamps Eat Hot Meals

Particularly on cold, rainy days (like today), while unhoused, sometimes all I want is a hot meal but it’s so difficult (if not impossible) to cook outside in the rain.

On top of this, I’m physically disabled and chronically ill. Medically, I’m supposed to have assistance with making meals as part of in home care. But I can’t get in home care without a home.

I just finished making dinner for my partner and I, it took 2 hours (3 if you include clean up). My knees are burning, my back is aching in it’s core, I feel like I’m about to faint, and all my joints are screaming. But it’s the only way we could have a hot meal today and get some protein, which is vital for our health conditions.

People judge us for using what little funds we have on McDonald’s some days. Because sometimes, it’s the only hot meal we’ve had in days. And sometimes I’m physically unable to stand, move, and do all the actions needed to cook. Or I faint while cooking. Or the rain doesn’t let up. Or we don’t have access to a kitchen for the day. Or the fire danger outside is too high. The list goes on.

Without my own kitchen to use, I don’t get to sit down while I cook (right now, everything is wet from the rain), I can’t meal prep, I can’t stock up on freezer meals, I can’t use an oven or a microwave to reheat leftovers, I can’t just reach across the kitchen for a fridge item (we have a small amount of fridge space friends let us use), everything about cooking is exponentially harder.

And even if I had 24/7 access to an accessible, full kitchen, it’s not even physically safe to cook my own meals. Even then, having a pre-made, hot, ready-to-eat meal could keep me safe and give me independance.

And all the safety needs for hot meals aside, emotionally, hot meals are also life saving and comfort. Meals are a part of community, culture, love and art.

So many gatherings we have as communities center around food. Most people in the United States would think of ones that often hold great value to Western culture. Mother’s Day breakfast. Spaghetti fundraisers. Wedding cakes. Birthday dinners. Bake sales. Carnival treats. BBQs on weekends. Holiday roasts. Lunches with friends. Casseroles brought to grieving neighbors.

Our world revolves around food.

I firmly believe that no poor person could ever “take advantage” of a system designed to feed us by using food stamps on hot food. This restrictive rule serves no purpose but to punish the most vulnerable of poor people— unhoused, disabled, and those of us living in unsafe conditions.

It also serves to restrict our access to joy and comfort. The joy can sometimes come from the food itself, but also the joy from having shared experiences solidified by the sounds of laughter and forks clinking on plates. The comfort can sometimes also be from the food itself, but also the experience of being loved and cared for while your close friend brings you pizza from your favorite restaurant because you lost your drive to eat three weeks ago and they worry about you. They know you. Those slices of pizza bring color back into your world.

Poor people deserve to be able to have the comfort, joy, and care that goes into a hot meal. We deserve the autonomy to choose foods that are best for us ourselves. We deserve to be able to eat in ways that are accessible to us.

Above all, we deserve access to hot meals.

Originally posted to my blog on 6.3.22

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

Chapter 4

Story Masterlist

'Slight' Yandere! Dion Agriche x Reader

Arranged marriage AU

SOME SPOILERS FROM THE NOVEL ABOUT JEREMY'S MOM

Warnings: possible slight yandere themes, slight incestual themes due to the content of “Roxana”, implied toxic marriage/relationship, slightly suggestive, implied suicide, slight themes of jealousy, mention of murder, vomit, Reader is a fangirl for Roxana, everyone is out of character I gave up in trying to keep them in character completely, Possible slight possessive themes, and maaayyybbee implied stalking. It’ll make more sense as the series goes on.

DISCLAMIER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT REBLOG FAN ART OR FANFICTION DNI. PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS.

Overall chapter summary: Dinner with your husband felt suffocating… and why did Jeremy and Roxana show up? Why is your younger brother-in-law acting so weird all of a sudden…

Word count: 3086k

===

You didn’t dream about anything. You don’t even feel rested.

So, of course, Hana decided to cake your face in foundation to hide the dark circles under your eyes. How thoughtful, truly. Although, it would have been more thoughtful of her if she lied and said you were sick. But no, instead you’re grabbing onto the bed post as she tightens the corset.

Your organs are being squeezed to death and you bite your tongue, not willing to scream bloody murder. It wasn’t a pride thing, you promise – you just didn’t want to look too weak in front of anyone in this household. You didn’t want to be looked down on too much.

“Gah!”

“I’m sorry, my lady. Hm…” Hana ponders over something before saying, “I’ll loosen it. Just a bit.” And as she said she loosens the strings. Just enough to where your organs weren’t squashed together. You release a breath once you gain some breathing room.

God, please, have some pity and let Dion stand me up… and for no-one else to join me. Please, please, please!

You beg internally. The best outcome would be for one-one to show up. The worst…Lant, Maria and or Fontaine decide to, antagonizing you. Yeah, you think. Maybe Dion showing up wasn’t the worst.

Hopefully, anyway. Otherwise, you might vomit on the spot. Everything sucks. Why can’t he just leave you be. But you start thinking about it. Maybe Lant ordered his favorite son to have dinner with you. To show dominance over you, maybe?

Sounds like something Lant would tell Dion. That bastard is unable to see past his ass.

“Hana, by any chance… do you know if it’s only Dion that’s showing up?” you ask, praying that her answer will be ‘yes.’ You could probably handle your husband. If he treats you with indifference, then you could. But Lant?

No, no way in hell.

“Well… yes.” she finishes fixing the corset before dressing you in the dress you picked out. It wasn’t anything flashy, just a simple design. Chest covered with long sleeves that end in small ruffles. The dress ends a bit above your feet. Dress black in color, Hana chose maroon heels to go with it.

But the material was softer than your usual dresses. Far more expensive, too – your family wasn’t poor by any means. However, this single dress just shows how much the Agriche family holds wealth in high regard. You guess it only makes sense – they didn’t play nice and fair.

Their money was dirty money. And that fact makes your skin crawl, feeling dirty just for wearing these clothes. Lant had all the clothes you brought with you thrown out. Most likely to say, ‘Hey! Look at me, taking care of my daughter-in-law! Can’t you see how thoughtful we are about spending so much money on her?’

How laughable.

How egotistical.

You want nothing more than to set fire to these clothes. They are nothing more than a show of ownership. Like you were a pet.

No. you are a pet. Lant’s to be specific – and he’s just letting Dion play with you. Your husband only took the leash because he was ordered to. Nothing more, nothing less.

But how long until he gives you back to his father? If he decides you’re nothing but a hassle? Found you to be so boring compared to Roxana? Until he grew tired of his mother questioning him about your every move, nagging him to show up with you?

What about public events? You know that Lant likes to bring Dion and Roxana with him – they are his ‘trophies’ after all. But you? Then again, people would start to talk if Dion Agriche’s wife never made a public appearance. Word has traveled across the country by now, wondering how grand the wedding was.

How you looked. If you are love birds or if you are a victim of threats. If your parents sold you off to pay their debts.

…why did they marry you off?

“- lady?” Hana calls out, making you jump in your seat a bit. Wait. When did she start doing your hair? Hell, when did you even take a seat?

“My Lady?” she addresses you again, looking at you through the mirror. She doesn’t stop brushing your hair. She’s gentle with it. “Are you okay?”

Ah, right, you should reply.

“Y-yes… forgive me, I was just…” thinking about how Lant will kill you, “lost in my thoughts.”

“I see.”

The room goes quiet. You look at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t look like yourself. You look haggard, adorned in precious jewels that bring out the color in your eyes, only to be fearful. Your completion looks artificial due to the heavy layer of foundation that barely covers your dark circles.

You look like a lost, helpless lamb.

You practice smiling.

“Hana?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“How convincing does my smile look?”

She turns her attention from your hair to your reflection. She doesn’t answer at first. Rather, she stares hard, tilting her head only to shake it. “Not much. But it’s only going to be master Dion. Master Lant is on a business trip. So, rest assure; he won’t… um, care.”

She’s soft with her reply, like she didn’t want to offend you. Not like you cared – if he doesn’t look your way then it’s a good day. Even better if he keeps his mouth shut except for a greeting and a goodbye. If he bothers with it anyway.

“I see.” You shouldn’t get your hopes up, though. He gave you advice despite leaving after consummating your marriage. He was somewhat thoughtful during it too, and if you think about it harder, he almost seemed…possessive. And during the engagement party, he was mostly with Lant. And at your wedding he was, once again, with Lant. But… you did feel someone staring holes into your back during both events.

Was it him, you wonder.

funny, since he barely spoke a word to you during that period.

“And with that, we are done, my lady.” Hana’s good with her hands – you look pretty. If you ignore your haggard face. And tired eyes.

“Thank you, Hana. It’s lovely.” You compliment her genuinely. And for once, a true sweet smile paints your lips. She looks away after seeing it through the reflection. You see the tips of her ears turn pink, however.

To think she had a cute side.

“Thank you, my lady. But I only enhanced your natural beauty.” Apparently, she’s also a charmer.

“Still,” you turn around to look at her, feeling some peace within you, “you did wonderfully.” You were never good at giving compliments, but hopefully she knows you mean it. This feels normal. You don’t want it to end. You don’t want to leave this room. You don’t want to see your husband.

---

Dion doesn’t even look flustered once he sees your figure walking towards the table. Hana called you beautiful – he makes you feel less. While he doesn’t look at you in disgust, he also doesn’t look at you in awe. Just indifference. But maybe that’s for the best.

You glance around the room after greeting him – just you, him, and Hana. The good outcome. The best outcome would be that no-one showed up.

Okay, you tell yourself. You’re on the battlefield. Your opponent is Dion Agriche. Not the worst enemy…probably, but a strong and brutal one regardless. As long as you don’t anger or annoy him, you should be fine. Hopefully.

You take your seat across from him, quiet as a mouse. Should you start a conversation? Wait for him to start one? Or just keep the heavy silence that’s suffocating you? How… how does he feel?

You’re curious but not suicidal.

No words are exchanged as a servant serves the food. Only clinking of your cutlery against your plates echoes in the room. Your stomach can’t stop churning and your mouth feels dry. Every piece of food you swallow feels like it’s choking you.

Even when you drink the water it doesn’t help. Even so, you push through – you had to. Show little to no weakness to your husband who holds no attachment to you. Not that you can talk, of course. He’s nothing more than a dangerous stranger to you.

… how much more of this damn silence can you take? Your eyes won’t leave your plate. And that’s when you notice, it’s a light meal. Chickpea pasta salad. Okay… a weird choice for dinner, but it’s better than having something heavy in your stomach.

You would have thrown up otherwise.

Out of curiosity you glance up at Dion to see if he had the same meal. He did and your shoulders relax. Maybe he liked it. Yeah, that’s it – why would he be considerate? Everything else that just so happened to be convenient for you? Maria’s words?

It was and meant nothing.

Your attention returns to your plate. It’s nearly gone. Good, even though you feel like you might choke on it. You need to ask Hana for more indigestion medicine after this. Oh, right.

You should probably ask him about… that.

“D-Dion, I was wondering- “

“Wow! The bastard is spending time with his victim?”

You wince at the sound of your younger brother-in-law, Jeremy. Your grip on your fork also becomes loose, dropping onto your plate. You didn’t expect him of all people to make a surprise appearance.

Still, he’s better than Lant. As long as he doesn't pick a fight with his older half-brother. And for your sake, you hope he doesn’t. Wait.

… at the wedding he could barely keep his mouth shut. Lant and Roxana had to shut it for him. Ah… is he going to pick a fight? Here in the dining room? Oh boy… I don’t want to be here…

Wait, did he just call you a victim?

“Jeremy.” Dion ‘greets’ him but it’s clear that his younger brother’s surprise appearance annoys him. “I see that you’re loud as always.” After that, Dion goes back to eating. Like his number two hater didn’t crash the dinner. Hopefully his number one hater won’t show up –

“Jeremy, I thought we’ve been over this.” A soft, feminine yet firm voice calls out to the youngster. You recognize that voice anywhere.

Your heart rate picks up as butterflies soar in your chest. Your cheeks feel warm – a fluffy, sweet haze takes over your mind. It’s as lovely as when you first heard it at your engagement party. But you don’t feel worthy enough to view the beauty that is Roxana Agriche.

Still, you can’t resist the urge to peek.

Long wavy golden hair that ends at mid back, her bangs framing her slightly pointy face. Big ruby eyes with golden lashes that see through you. One of her dainty hands rubs Jeremy’s head. It’d be a lie to say you weren’t slightly jealous.

But you know that you should keep her at arm’s length. She’s not necessary evil, but…

You don’t want to be caught up in her schemes, if she finds you useful. After all, being part of her plan doesn’t guarantee your safety. So, you’ll just admire her from afar, like a fangirl.

Heat crawls up from your neck to the tip of your ears when she returns your gaze. You think you might faint from happiness the moment she smiles at you sweetly. You greet your in-laws, but a hole is being burned into your person. Who’s staring?

“It’s been a while,” again you don’t know how to address your in-laws. But you do a curtsy after rising from your seat, hoping they don’t notice the shake in your voice. Beautiful or not, your favorite character is extremely dangerous. Still, it’s a dream come true to see her so soon.

“Hah! She has manners, unlike you, dickhead.” Jeremy exclaims. It’s funny. While you know he despises your husband, you do find it a bit surprising that he would bad mouth him in front of you. You’re also surprised to run into these two so early into your moving into this mansion.

Now, you should figure out a way to fade into the background. Maybe return to your room before things get out of hand.

“Jeremy, that’s not nice,” Roxana scolds without meaning it. If anything, she might find the show enjoyable. Unfortunately for you, it only makes you uneasy. She glances at you before turning her attention to the young boy. They’re not even that far apart in age – just a year.

Wait. No. Before being reincarnated Roxana was a college student.

You push that fact out of mind.

“But look at her! Does she look like she’s having the time of her life?” he points at you, unknowing of how rude it could come across. You keep your trap shut, only smiling awkwardly before rebutting his very true accusation gently.

“Young master Jeremy,” that’s probably the best way to address him, “I’m completely fine. But thank you for your concern.” To be fair, you think, Dion probably doesn’t want to be here either.

You want to add ‘you’re sweet’ to your sentence but decide against it. It’s too intimate. Too friendly and casual. And you have a feeling your husband wouldn’t like that.

His attention hasn’t left you since Roxana came. Was he… jealous? That his sister was paying attention to you instead of him? Or did he find you unworthy of talking to her? Oh! Maybe he’s upset that you and Jeremy are here with him and Roxana.

…if true, it’s creepy.

“Blink twice if you’re being held hostage.”

“Jeremy.” Roxana becomes sterner, her eyes narrowing at the said boy. “That’s enough.” He pouts, offering a small apology. But not before taking one last jab at Dion.

“Don’t be surprised if she jumps of the terrace.”

The room goes quiet. No one dares to speak. Even for Jeremy, that was too far. Although, you could understand where he was coming from… but you were not his mother. And hopefully, unlike her, you won’t completely break.

Not again.

Dion, as always, says nothing. In the series he would have. Sneer at him maybe. Or return the insult, but harsher. Was this Dion more mellow? You’re not sure. Rather, he hasn’t shown his brutal side around you the few times you’re together, even at the engagement party, the wedding, and your first night together. Even earlier today, he warned you about his mother.

Ignoring the sadistic looks from last night, Dion didn’t really… showed you his true personality.

Almost like he was hiding it.

You shake your head. That’s ridiculous. With a small huff, you respond to Jeremy’s jab. You shouldn’t, but he shouldn’t act like this.

“Master Jeremy,” you call him, not sure of what to say next. “…While I appreciate your concern, please do not jump to such conclusions.” You’re scared he’ll lash out at you. Honestly, you don’t know if he does worry about you or if he just wanted to rile his older brother up. Regardless, it’s probably best to draw a line.

Everyone needs one.

“She’s right, Jeremy,” Roxana takes your side, and you can’t help but swoon. Truly, she’s a goddess in some regards and devil in another. Hopefully, you pray, you’ll only see her sweet side, no matter how fake it is. “You should apologize – properly.”

The boy looks dejected that his favorite sister basically told him that Dion won’t be the worst husband. If anything, he most likely wanted Roxana to take you away from the favorite son – so that he won’t have anything. Not that it matters – Dion is only playing house until Lant tells him otherwise.

“I’m,” Jeremy forces the words out, unable to look you in the eye. It’s kind of cute, but you must remind yourself that murder means nothing to this fourteen-year-old boy. If Roxana were to tell him to kill you tomorrow, he would without second thought.

“I’m sorry. Really. I was… out of line. I shouldn’t have said that to you, (n-name).” he stutters out your name like it was his first time hearing it. “But,” oh boy, you don’t like how the way he’s looking at Dion. And you don’t like how your husband glares at the boy, either.

Roxana shares a look with you, as if saying ‘get the bastard out, now.’ But how were you supposed to do that!? You barely talk as is!

What are you supposed to do!? Beg him to leave with the promise of… no, you can’t do that again. You like living with working reproductive parts.

But… how could you refuse Roxana?

Oh. You’re already falling for her traps. You’ll work on that later, when there isn’t a one-sided bashing session between the two half-brothers.

You breathe in before calling out Dion’s name. “Why don’t we… why don’t we walk around…” you squeak, drowning in embarrassment. You probably look like a mouse to them. “Why don’t we walk around the garden? I’ve been- “

“Hold up, do you really want to be alone with him- “

“Jeremy.” Your husband gets up from his seat and suddenly a knife cuts down the atmosphere. He sounds… pissed. He doesn’t raise his voice or anything; but that only makes it… worse. It’s hard to breathe and you can only watch as Dion stares at Jeremy.

You’re starting to fear for the boy’s safety.

Roxana looks like she was about to step in, clearly done with the entire situation until her older brother cuts her off. “At your age, acting out is just pathetic. Stop before you embarrass yourself further.”

Then, he looks at you with those fucking carmine eyes that gives off the impression that he knows more than he should. You feel naked, finally realizing something:

Dion Agriche is hiding something from you.

You’ve only ‘known’ him for a few months and spoken only a handful of times. But somehow, someway, he knows you. You feel like throwing up.

“I’ll see you at our room later.”

The moment he’s out of view, your dinner decides to come up. It was horrifying, throwing up in front of your in-laws. Especially Roxana.

And…

“See? I told you, Xana!”

Jeremy is also acting weird. Fuck, what’s even going on anymore? Can’t the characters stay, well, in character?

But hey, at the very least, you have the privilege of the beautiful Roxana helping you clean up after ordering Hana – she was standing to the side the entire time but couldn’t do anything – to bring some towels. Hopefully, Lant won’t hear of this…

[raayllum]

Arc 3 Predictions Electric Boogaloo

Because there's certain stuff that makes a Lot more sense now even as we're left with more questions, so let's talk about it.

Aaravos and the Cosmic Order / Claudia

So Aaravos wanted to take down the elves and dragons. Now the archdragons are all gone circa S7, which means he can hit the ground running upon his return in seven years. This means that the next target can fully be the Cosmic Council outright, and more recontextualization about how creating Eternal Night would make them suffer (though I don't think he'll repeat plans).

I could see him giving instructions / ideas to Claudia through dreams or visions, and she's armed with her amulet in the meantime and will maybe track down a replacement staff since she doesn't have one anymore. (Or she'll want to steal it back from Callum since it was a product of both her 'fathers'.) Other antagonists such as Finnegrin (maybe) and Kim'Dael (more definitely) will likely be interwoven.

That said, I think there'll be plenty of conflict already for our protagonists to deal with even before any of our old foes show up again.

Aanya + the Fire Ruby Project / Ezran & Zym

With the arrows temporarily able to dispose of Aaravos (even if I mandate he let himself get chained down in 7x07 in order to manipulate Ezran) and his imminent return, Ez and Aanya have an incentive to keep going with Project Ruby Fire. However, we also know thanks to interviews that Aanya has an adoptive brother, and from Tales of Xadia that:

The city is more fortified of late, as there are rumours of internal treason. The farmers worry that young Queen Aanya isn’t old enough or wise enough to protect what’s been built over the centuries.

So what I'm thinking is that adoptive brother Grark may pull a Karim and work on the project behind his sister's back or stage a coup. This could also put Ezran at odds with Zym, as Project Ruby Fire was designed specifically to be good at defeating dragons and to be so destructive that the mere threat of them would be enough (but, of course like the Mage Wars, someone's gonna use it). Having deeper, more politically / personally driven conflicts between Ezran and Zym (he had conflict with one brother, and now another) is also possible now that Zym can speak, and I think they'll take full advantage of it.

Ez and Zym together have always represented Hope the most (3x06), as Ezran found the egg, they're the two young princes turned kings, and are spearheading things forward.

So what happens if/when they start to crack? This could also provide a contrast to Janai and Amaya, as their new nieces/nephews through Miyana and Karim could provide a conflict. Even though the kids themselves will be too young and Miyana convinced to walk a different path, that doesn't mean they won't be used or treated as symbols by somebody else to sow more conflict.

Evrkynd and Elarion

The choice to establish a new city to show the growing unity between elves and dragons makes sense, but it made me wonder why do it now and not as an end-of-arc 3 idea. Then I considered that perhaps it's to set up Everkynd as an Elarion parallel: a glistening, shining city, where after it fell the land was divided and more chaos ensued.

Only Evrkynd will emerge and stand the test of time, of course, with the connection between the two halves being maintained and strengthened. But still, a thought I'll probably have something more eloquent for later.

Callum, Corruption, and the Cube (+ Rayla)

Was thinking over 6x06's "the darkness and corruption will overwhelm you" in addition to the choice in S6 to establish that Callum's father died of a chronic illness / the consistent comparison to dark magic as a plague/infection/sickness (2x08, 5x01, 5x03, 5x04, 5x09, etc). The options I'd considered for how the corruption would manifest post usage usually fell into two camps: instantaneous and complete, or gradual and ongoing. I'd thought the second one would be interesting for a mid-season dark magic use, speculating it'd be like the shadowmonsters in taking a few days or longer for something to take.

I certainly didn't think it'd be a process over Years, but given the seven year timeskip...

I'm picturing something like Callum still taking mushroom salves or potions regularly from Muhko (hence that inclusion for Zubeia) to stave off corruption overwhelm, and giving him parallels to Damian. This would also potentially enhance the feeling of "living on borrowed time" he and everyone, but him and Rayla in particular, are bound to feel as they know they have Limited Time before Aaravos comes back.

I'm also curious as to how openly or how much Callum will be studying dark magic, even in comparison to before ("Well, I've read a lot about it"). He has Viren-Claudia's relic staff, and the corrupted sun stone within it, so there could be interesting ideas or experiments there. The fact that Callum has the Staff and the Cube and the white streak does not bode well for him.

An additional assumption is that Callum will go to Elarion offscreen (cause that is a Long skip) but be unable to find what he's unknowingly looking for (the primal magic book?). I also don't think at this point I have to go into much more detail about CHET given that we've been here with the theory for 4 years, and pieces of evidence at the time that felt like a stretch are now being incorporated, such as:

The Cube pointing to Elarion, which was incredibly important to ancient humanity and Aaravos

Elarion poem is associated with nature (flowers of elarion) and dark-light motif

Rayla is Callum's light in the darkness and his destructive path. She was prepared to destroy him (7x09) and will likely save him in the future.

The flowers of Elarion were involved in a story where they were seen as gifts / "fair exchanges of beloved for beloved". Then Rayla, by Aaravos' own word, was described as Callum's "beloved" (7x09).

The entire conversation with Dark!Callum and the cube in the woods in 7x06 but especially "If you love her, you'll be the you that can save her" and "I have always been a part of you."

Basically: it's not over till the cube is plot relevant and all the foreshadowing / lines of dialogue surrounding it have come full circle in some manner. In Arc 3 we trust.

Misc Predictions / Ideas

that didn't belong anywhere else!

Given that we know Aanya has her older brother and Prince Kasef has a younger sibling, I think it'd be interesting if they teamed up to try and stage mutual coups or something.

Since the archdragons are gone, I'm curious what project ruby fire would be used against. Maybe just other dragons? Or invoking stuff from the past mage wars.

More info on the relic staffs and self-eating I think for sure can be expected, as well as what happened to make Kpp'Ar completely change his mind.

I'm expecting S8 to be catch up and set up much the way that S1 and S4 were.

There are river pirates between Duren and Neolandia (Tales of Xadia) so I could see Finnegrin being woven back in there, although I'd love to go back to Scumport and see any changes Elmer has made.

Kim'Dael feels like a 2 season antagonist to me, in order to reintroduce her (maybe Aaravos inverting the Moon Nexus set her free) and then to draw on her history with the Moon Fam (Bloodmoon Huntress graphic novel).

A lot more lore on the Startouch elves / I'm fairly certain Shiruakh was a star devourer dragon

Aaravos making the Cosmic Council mortal, etc etc.

Sol Regem lore and backstory

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Hi! Please excuse any misspellings, english is not my frist language...

Firstly I just wanted to tell you that I love your AU! Your Harlequin au was what intorduced me to lovely TADC au Tumblr community and I absolutley love it! I haven't seen alternate universes as creative as these since the Sansverse era!

Secondly, I hace a question about the Patriarch: He seems to have a very good idea of who Caine is, wouldn't he be this world's equivalent to Able? I ask because althugh his design is WAY different from most fan Able depictions, he still has that "The Puppetmaster's brother" vibe that all Ables tend to have, a peace of Caine's past that he can never get rid of!

If he is not Able then I am curious of who he is, if he is then the lore just got spicier and if you don't want to spoil anything I'll understand.

But honestly: Keep it up! Your au has filled 70% of all my daydreams, the only thing I have been able to think about for a while has only been game mechanics, combat and chase sequences!

Damn y'all are fucking sleuths istg

Though I am very proud of that because that means my design philosophy worked somehow, and for that, I'll throw you guys a bone. And also because I can't keep it a secret any longer I've been holding it in since the very beginning of this au

YES.

The Patriarch of Puppets is none other than Abel, Caine's biological brother.

When I was first designing him, I wanted every aspect of Abel's design to scream "opposite of Caine", and to hold some form of symbolism. From his megaphone head, down to the color palettes, there is meaning. Don't get me wrong, Mushy's Able is a very memorable and awesome design and I could've incorporated him the same way I did Souls-like, but I wanted something deeper for Harlequin.

While Caine is adorned in golds and maroons to symbolize his warmer nature, Abel has teals and silver, a very cold and intimidating stature. Their outfits and the colors are an opposition towards each other yet reflect one another somehow, the way Abel dresses tightly and formal when Caine is loose and open, his intense red pupil conveys his hostility, whilst Caine's eyes are softer blues and greens.

His king-size height dwarfing Caine tells just how much the Puppetmaster felt living on his shadow, HELL, someone noticed the weird "A" on the sides of his head and I had to shrug it off because I didn't want to reveal it as early as that time.

Even the megaphone head design holds SO MUCH UNTOLD STORY BETWEEN THE BROTHERS THAT I WILL CHOOSE TO KEEP A SECRET FOR NOW. I've put SO MUCH THOUGHT behind his design.

*sigh*... Which is also why I very much dislike the "siren head" jokes, because it's the one thing I didn't really foresaw when I was developing his design until I finished, and someone pointed out it might cause jokes like that to prop up. Something I thought I wouldn't mind initially, until everyone made the same joke over and over again and I just audibly groan irl.

But you know. internet's gonna internet, they see one thing that resembles a popular media, it's an immediate connection. I didn't even give a shit enough about Siren head to know how the design actually looked like, just a silhouette of the guy.

Therefore, I would really appreciate it if saying this out loud would help lessen the jokes, but ik not everyone is going to see this post so.

I do still wanna thank you for your kind words, because these kinds of asks are the fuel to my fire of inspiration and motivation for this AU, and I wish that I can keep this fire going till the very end of this AU's story :')

[weirdmarioenemies]

If you're even vaguely familiar with Kirby, there is no doubt in anyone's mind that one of the most iconic abilities is Parasol. It's a unique ability, it gets a ton of merch, and it's cute, to boot!

But when you think about it, there's not a whole lot of enemies for Parasol, is there? There's a lot of enemies that hold Parasols, there's the Parasol itself, which may or may not be sentient, but Parasol doesn't bring a wide variety of enemies to mind like, say, Fire or Spark might.

Believe it or not, there actually are a few enemies that give Parasol that neither HOLD a Parasol nor ARE "just" the Parasol...but they're wholly exclusive to a few games, and have not had a proper reappearance in the games since the SNES era. So, let me introduce you to all of them! Maybe there will even be some you like, or wish would come back!

But first, an honorary mention...

Name: Parasol (Kirby's Dream Land)

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land

You know it, you love it, it's...Parasol?!

That's right! Before it became the ability we all know and love, Parasol actually debuted in the same game Kirby did, which you might note did NOT have copy abilities! Like Waddle Doo and Sir Kibble, this is a classic example of an enemy that had an ability based around it, rather than vice versa.

I want to talk about specifically its iteration in this game, which is a bit different compared to future entries. First off and most noticeably, its appearance is wholly different! The hood is smaller and shaded but with no discernable pattern, the handle is thinner and the hook itself looks more rounded! Secondly, all Waddle Doos and Dees will let go of their parasol once they land, with none spawning while holding them or keeping them when they land anyway.

And another thing: you can't even dang inhale them when they're being held! The Waddler in question will be swallowed, but the Parasol will drift away or, in the Extra Game, even hone in on you! I told you they were debatably sentient! It actually does that in a few future games like Kirby's Adventure, but not nearly as commonly as it did in the original Extra Game. So strange!

OKAY OKAY time for what the post promised you now I promise. Hold my hand (and your Parasol) as I take you through The Parasol Enemies That Time Forgot:

Name: Floaty the Drifter

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land 2

"Floaty the Drifter", not to be confused with Floaty the Cell Core, is such a wonderful name. "Floaty" would already be a sillily obvious name on its own, on par with names like Flamer and Chilly and Cappy, but adding "the Drifter" makes it even moreso. Is that its species? Its title? Is Floaty an individual? Probably not, we see multiple of them in the same level and often, and this is not like Vividria where it's canonically an individual that just so happens to be fought in pairs for gameplay, but it's funny to consider. Imagine if they followed through with other enemies, like "Spikey the Poker", "Burnis the Scorcher", "Elec the Trocuter"…

Floaty the Drifter actually acts as the main provider for Parasol in this game, wholly replacing the titular object itself except for when Kirby uses it. On its own, it doesn't do much floating OR drifting, instead hopping around in its own little world, kind of akin to Cappy, but it lives up to its name when a Waddle Dee holds it, in which...it will just act like a normal Parasol! Wholly and entirely. Even when dropped, it flies off rather than initiate its normal grounded behavior. I think I've heard some of them fly at you when released, but I can't think of any instances of that, and that's still a Parasol behavior anyhow.

As you can tell, Floaty the Drifter's claim to fame is in its unique design, bearing a single mischievous eye and a stark green coloration only seen in artwork. In fact, despite being a one-off mook, this would even grant it its own role in the anime!

Floaty the Drifter, or just "Drifters" as they're called here (I guess it is a species!) are bought by King Dedede in the episode "Escargoon Rules" to attack Escargoon and his mother after presumably being "I'm With Stupid"’d all day. I did not watch the anime! According to the wiki, they're about as fragile as you'd expect a swarm of umbrellas to be, as while they swarm towards and wrap around victims, they are easily KO'd by Fire and knocked away by Kirby's own Parasol ability.

You might be wondering why, exactly, Floaty the Drifter even has one eye in the first place, considering that its role is largely the same as Parasol. To answer that, we'll have to move on to the next creature to feature:

Name: Jumpershoot

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land 2

I bet you never expected an ability like Parasol to have its own, dedicated midboss, did you? And such a sophisticated one, at that! It's even one of the few Kirby characters with toes, for the freaks in the audience!

As you may have guessed, Jumpershoot and, to a lesser extent, Floaty the Drifter are both based on the kasa-obake, perhaps one of the most ubiquitous yokai! And this is despite not really ever having appeared in folktales, if ever. I was always under the assumption that the kasa-obake was a tsukumogami, an umbrella after it had lived for 100 years, but apparently even this isn't set in stone, either!

Jumpershoot first appears in Big Forest, the second world of the game, and guards Coo because...some reason! I don't think it's ever mentioned why the Animal Friends are kidnapped, they kind of just are! And as for Jumpershoot, does he work for King Dedede? Dark Matter? I don't know how employed midbosses are. Mr. Frosty is on the Halberd once.

Our favorite umbrella attacks by jumping and gently falling towards the ground, then makes a rapid, Tornado-like spin around the room that, after a bit, repels attacks! Then, rather than dropping Stars, he throws his own sandal at you that you can shoot back at him! Don't worry, it regenerates, so you don't have to feel guilty for robbing him of footwear!

I really really like Jumpershoot. And apparently, so did Shimomura, because he reappears in Kirby's Dream Land 3, acting much the same but with more detailed sprites! He's such...a cool character, you know? You wouldn't expect a Parasol midboss to be a yokai, of all things, especially one that acts so rowdy! I love him!

Sadly, as much as we'd all love to, there is no game where you can play as Jumpershoot. Tragic, but true! But...you can get a taste, a crumb of its rapid spin attack by having the Parasol ability while riding Coo, which makes Coo spin around invulnerably just as he does! And while he would later find himself joining the foray of midbosses abandoned after Kirby's Dream Land 3, Parasol Coo still appears in Kirby Star Allies, so his soul is still with us...

This would be the end of the road for Jumpershoot, in terms of games, but luckily for Jumpershootheads, he would make one final appearance in a piece of Twitter art, joining a medley of other monsters by spooking Channel PPP! He's still got it!

Sadly, this wraps up the Jumpershoot section of this post, and thusly we have no more Dream Land 2 Parasol enemies to speak of. But don't worry, we still have more parasolic beasts in the next title...

Name: Sasuke

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land 3

Although Floaty had a cute design, it's rather appropriate that the enemy that replaced the Parasol of Kirby's Dream Land would itself get replaced in Kirby's Dream Land 3, isn't it? But Sasuke is no mere living umbrella!

Sasuke's design might bring to mind Bumber for our veteran readers, and its behavior is much the same! It drifts down slowly and steadily, and starts walking back and forth on whatever block it lands on, just like Parasol Waddle Dee, but its hat never detaches, so it will never not give Parasol! Personally speaking, though, I think Bumber is MUCH more cute and memorable...sorry, Sasuke! At least you will always have Naruto to confide in.

Sasuke also made an appearance in the anime, where he's built a lot more like Lololo & Lalala. Here, he draws a gun at King Dedede and Escargoon, an

Name: Klinko

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land 3

The oddest Parasol appearance in both looks and functionality, and our final Parasol giver, is Klinko! It looks like it would give Cleaning if anything, with its hat reminiscent of a besom! It doesn't even drift down slowly like every other Parasol enemy does at some point–in fact, while it hops around, it doesn't share any traits with the Parasol ability at all, and is the only Parasol enemy like that! So, why does it give Parasol, then?!

The answer is: it's not wearing an old broom, but actually a straw umbrella, because it's based on yet ANOTHER yokai! Shimomura seemed to think yokai were the future of the Parasol ability, and who wouldn't!

The amefurikozō, unlike the kasa-obake, has a bit more concrete lore, being children that appear in and sometimes cause rainfall, hence why they wear straw umbrellas. This is true of Klinko, too, as it appears in cloudy stages or stages with heavy snowfall! Its Japanese name, Kinko, might also suggest some relation to the separate yokai Yukinko, a child associated with heavy snow, which could also explain its tendency towards icy levels.

It's easy to see why such an unparasolic enemy would not be used any further, but I kind of like them more for it. They're an anomaly! Sure, this is essentially just Floaty the Drifter's hopping behavior, but the lack of any other Parasol attributes than just wearing an umbrella really make it stand out to me! And that's the beauty of these enemies—the longer Parasol goes without any new enemies, the more these guys will always stand out, and that's wonderful, I think!

What do you guys think? Is the time right for some of these guys to make a comeback? Is Parasol better with the limited enemies they use now? Or should they make new ones? Tell me! I can't do anything with your suggestions but I have nothing better to do than read them!

[cheezyharu]

Happy 1000 posts to this account lol, man that’s a lotta posts XD

Impulse designing got the better of me again… anyways here’s my interpretation of Akivili from Honkai Star Rail

Based on Pom-pom (beta + current) and Stelle and Caelus's design. More under cut, since my brainrot was pretty bad I’ll put it under there.

Weapon, thanks to @skyward-current for the idea of making smth based on a telescope. So 8 ish hours struggling later we got this thing, which is supposed to be a telescope that doubles as a blaster. This doesn't give telescope vibes but this will do for now. Yeah I suck at weapon designing man, never got used to these mfs after all these years :V

Battle poses/concept. If Akivili were to be playable, I wanna bet them to be Fire/Trailblaze, or at least Fire/Destruction if Hoyo wants to stick to the main 7 playable paths (although I HOPE they'll make them an exception) I tried to make something that fits the telescope blaster thing I tried to design, but then I still wanna keep my original idea for their battle somehow (chucking the Astral Express at the enemy) so bam that's their ult now :/

Anyways babbling time-

I highly doubt that Akivili is even dead, lost after some event sure, but something tells me they're not dead. For all we know this mf could be vibing in the Sea of Quanta or smth. I'm sure at some point in HSR plot we'll meet/become the Trailblaze at some point in the future. Definitely really later on like.. say 5.0 ish or later.

As for personality, I wanna say they're the most... Humane/moral of all Aeons due to being the one that surrounds themself with mortals the most often. Cause let's be real here: there are literal documents in HSR stating that Akivili is known to live alongside humans. This is also why my design is very human, with some small details that try to differentiate them from mortals.

Well back to personality, I feel like Akivili is very outgoing to everyone, Nameless and strangers alike, but also very reckless. Like they give off doing it despite knowing it's dangerous vibes to me, but I think that's just me associating Stelle and Caelus to the Trailblaze too often.

... Oh now that I think abt it, should I give them more bird features? I read on the wiki that Akivili could represent a word meaning "eagle" or smth ...

[imissylou]

Hello, I'm Missy! I've created many challenges in the past, and I'm best known for the Herbs and Spices Legacy, which I co-created with my friend @sunboyish. If you know me, you know how much I love butterflies—I even have multiple tattoos of them! I searched everywhere on Tumblr but couldn't find the original butterfly legacy challenge. If you happen to find it, please tag me so I can give proper credit.

Since I couldn't find the original, I created my own version, and I hope it's refreshingly different for you. I get bored of legacy challenges easily (it's not you, it's me), so I designed each generation to stand out with unique traits and stories. Feel free to skip or modify any parts that don't suit your play style. This challenge includes elements from all the packs (except the Star Wars pack, ew). If it becomes popular, I'll make a base game version or add base game options.

You're welcome to add to this challenge or create graphics for it—just tag me! Without further ado, here are the RULES! [TW: Neglect, Abuse, Substance Use, Murder, Religion, PTSD, Abortion]

Rules and first Generation under the cut!

Click here for the Doc

Butterfly Effect: A Legacy Challenge

Rules

Start out with 0 simoleons or enough to make a starter home then take the money away

Each gen only takes 20% of the funds your last generation accumulated

I love mods, so go ahead and get every mod out there, but just don't make the challenge too easy, trust me it gets boring if its easy

All CC is allowed

You don't have to level up any skills to level 10, they're just there so you have an idea on what you're going to do that generation - mostly from the career you're doing

Must complete each goal before moving on to the next generation, optional goals are optional

You don't have to complete any aspiration, unless it says

Life span can be on any, it's up to you

Make sure you look ahead each gen there may be overlap

You don't have to make this a berry challenge, but i did put a colour pallet if you want to use it

I haven't played through it yet so feel free to comment any suggestions or email me at imissylou1@gmail.com

Please tag me in all posts that are about my legacy - I’m nosey and want to see your lets plays or sim making, if you use insta you can find me @ imissylou5

If you play this challenge please use the #butterflyeffectlegacy or #BEL

Have Fun, this is your game after all!

Let's kick off this legacy with the epitome of elegance and grandeur—the Monarch! As the trendsetter of the family, your fashion sense is unparalleled, radiating style and sophistication in every outfit. Your iconic looks make you unforgettable, setting a high bar for all generations to come. Along with your keen fashion sense, you have an insatiable curiosity and just can't resist getting involved in everyone's business. You may be the first, but you’re destined to be remembered as the most glamorous, stylish, and intriguingly nosy generation. Get ready to strut your stuff, gather all the gossip, and set the runway on fire!

Your Colours - Orange and Black

Traits - Self Absorbed, Perfectionist, Nosy

Aspiration - World-Famous Celebrity

Skills - Writing, Charisma, Photography, and Painting

Career -  Style Influencer - Trend Setter Branch

Start as a Young Adult

Date Multiple People - You're Polyamorous!

Become Pregnant as an Adult, but you don't know who the Baby belongs too

Woohoo every partner you have the night you want to be pregnant, so you don't know the other parent

Do this every time you want to be pregnant

All your kids look like you dressed them up (which you do, no kid of yours will be trashy)

Have at least 2 outfits in each category

Go thrifting every weekend to collect all the thrifting clothing items

Get the squeamish trait if it pops up!

Have the Hungry for Love and People Person Lifestyles - Try to keep them throughout your whole life

Everytime you talk to someone, gossip with them

Optional

Travel every time you're stressed - Monarchs travel approximately 4,000 kilometres

@ts4challengehub