#bc i thought english would use the same word for them instead of having different words for male and female

[dellinah]

I know I literally made this but it’s still the fault of everyone else in this thread not mine

(mostly @wolfman-al​ whose fanart reminded me of this meme)

anyway we were robbed etc etc

I saw some really cute fanart of Maid Marian as a lioness and I just had to do this edit. (◕ ω ◕)

[thatdeadaquarius]

I have so many ideas but none of them can be put into words, all I can do is just wheeze as they come along🤣

Also remember how wordy and flowery Teyvat speech/dialogue is? ADD THAT TO THE FACT THAT TEYVAT HAS ITS OWN LANGUAGE---

Reader can understand the basic speech which is why they are so blunt (I love this idea so much 🤣) and can piece together an idea what the person is talking about.

*insert random person talking about a commission with a long ass backstory*

Traveller & Co.: *understands completely and making plans to retrieve said commission*

C!Reader: (They said they had a cart.... a bunch of hilichurls appeared... dancing?.... they want us to dance fight the hilichurls???? Dance off???)

Actual story->The person's cart got ambushed by a group of hilichurls and taunted them by dancing around it.

....... it doesnt always translate well

Also imagine Reader heaeing random names and overthinks it as a word instead of a name.

Example: Pantalone means pants in Philippine English (sorry not sorry Pantalone)

Tsaritsa??? Oh do they speak russian there??? - reader

Capitano -> captain in some countries

(I once mistake Sandrone as Sandalone and I just went "... ehh??? Standalone? Sandalone as in Sand Alone???? Sandal (Flip flops)????

Oh wait its Sandrone" ".... as in Sand and Drone??--)

-Vine Boom

VINE BOOM ANON MY BELOVED 💖❤🧡💛💚💙💜✨️✨️

Gif is me writing u anything ever:

AHFLALA FERRRALLL I STG I ALSO THOUGHT ABT THIS!! WHY U COULD ALSO BE BLUNT BC U ONLY GOT THE BASICS 💀 RIP

Man theyre written language looks so scary to learn, kinda like when I looked into trying to learn Mandarin/Japanese (and even Korean), the letters r just inherently so different i was so intimidated

And u dont even read it like left -> right like English

Omg i tried to reply to a arabic comment on my art post once, and i felt so acommplished when i finally was able to type "اشكرك (thanks)" but like, i had to put it on the OTHER SIDE OF THE TEXT BOX, LIKE ALIGN IT TO THE RIGHT INSTEAD OF HOW U KNOW ENGLISH IS INHERENTLY ALIGNED LEFT, IT WAS SO TRIPPY-

Going thru genshin life only understanding minimal words of anything anyone says is honestly how i feel like ive been playing Genshin LMAO

Those analysis videos/lore are saving a bitch's life out here

PANTALONE IS ALSO RLLY CLOSE TO SPANISH FOR PANTS I KNOW WHAT U MEANNN LOL

UR ENDLESS CONFUSION FOR SANDRONE PLEASE ANON U DIDNT EVEN GET IT RIGHT THE FIRST CORRECTION IT JUST KEPT GETTING WORSEEE 😂😭 SAME THO

That would literally be you in genshin tho, like i could easily see it being like, back to back misunderstandings 😭😭

Like u think u got it right (Oh so his name is Rex Lapis, wait what? Morax? Ok his name is Morax...?? What??? Zhongli??? WHO IS THIS MAN-)

.

JFC first they gotta have a whole different language (like u saw in game)

And ON TOP OF THAT THEY CAN TALK FOR 10 MIN STRAIGHT ABT THE WEATHER OR SOME SHIT??

No... just, no.

U quickly decide u like what little bits of language u could pick up so far, which just results in,

U guessed it, simple speech and short fragmented sentences (or broken Teyvatian)

U cant even bring urself to care when u give half the characters a heart attack and send the rest into laughing fits

No fucks given, they wanna make this extra hard on u by being wordy on top of a new language,

Yeah u dont care what comes out of ur mouth anymore

Also, since everybody is raised in Teyvat very few ppl dont know the language, which once again brings us back to ancient/older deities/creatures who have a more simplistic version/outdated version of modern language

.

Omg getting stuff mistranslated bc u cant understand it all/only keywords sounds like hell but also rlly funny

Traveler/Paimon: "Alright, yes, all is well. We will accept this comission, and depart soon."

You: "...they want us to?? Dance fight?? Hilichurls...???"

Traveler just stares at u half in pity, half trying to hide their amused smile, Paimon is giggling

The commissioner is shook bc a supposed ancient creature?? Just accepted?? Their simple commission?? And u think they want u to dance battle???

.

PLEASE U MISTRANSLATE THE HARBINGERS NAMES RIGHT TO THEIR FACES

Signora: "You shall rue the day you crossed the Fatui mortals!"

You: "Lady we don't care, just fight us."

(Signora just means 'Lady')

Signora: *offended gasp*

Traveler/Paimon trying to stifle laughter

Raiden Shogun jaw dropped a little

.

Pantalone: "What a pleasure to finally meet you traveler, and thine wonderful companions!" *little bastard smile*

You: "And it was awful to meet you, Pants."

Pantalone: 😶😧😡 "Pants?! HOW DARE YOU NOT EVEN GIVE ME THE MOST BASE RESPECT, AFTER I GREETED THEE SO KINDLY-"

.

Oh its so funny, everytime you talk about Childe you always phrase it like he's an actual child bc u thought everyone was just calling him a little kid for some reason (u dont know how Teyvat ages work, he could be for all you know!)

Not very long, but Vine Boom anon your brain >>>>

Ur ideas r so on point, i love them sm

That makes perfect sense why u could be talking blunt too, like an in world explanation really

For you, all the desserts🥰 🤲🍪🍨🍰🍮🧋🍦🍡

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

[yersina]

a linguist plays chants of sennaar (pt 2)

[pt 1] [x] [pt 3] [pt 4] [pt 5]

the linguistic journey continues!

disclaimer: can't promise that i'll have any insights that a layperson wouldn't have, this is kinda just me thinking through the grammar of the language out loud haha.

this post covers the second language and will contain spoilers! it also assumes that you know what the symbols mean already.

(my dictionary is missing some symbols bc i missed part of the gameplay that would've prompted me to fill them in)

immediately, visually just looks different from the devotee's language, which is super cool! reminiscent of runic alphabets, kind of. i'm assuming that's a creative/artistic decision to indicate the 'toughness' of the warriors or something. not sure if the game developers would've put thought into this, but i also wonder if this is a representation of the materials that those people would've written on (w the devotees being more clay/stone based and the warriors being more stone/metal based). unclear!

in the warrior's language, the verbs generally have a diamond shape, though it's not as consistent to identify as the devotee language's line. the people-related words are kinda tall and skinny, with a stick in the middle?? again, the devotee's language was the most pictographically representative of the bunch--the warrior's language is a little less obvious. i interpreted "treasure" and "fortress" as being location-nouns due to their similar triangle shape, but the translation for "treasure" obv doesn't convey that (i originally labeled "treasure" as "treasury"). i also find it interesting that "death" bears so much resemblance to "impure". in my mind, "death" and "impure" are in the same category as the other people-nouns due to the appearance of the characters, but that might just be coincidence. could possibly suggest some cultural beliefs around who or what "death" is tho!

grammatically, this language is also SVO, like the devotee's language and like english. instead of reduplication, we have a plural marker for nouns, which seems to act like an affix (prefix, specifically) rather than a root word. i will say—i'm not a fan of the translation of "impure" and "chosen" and subsequent plurals as "impure ones" and "chosen ones". not a huge deal, but translating them that way makes them seem like adjectives when they're not, especially considering how they translate <plural bottle> as "bottles". just doesn't seem consistent, but it's a v small pet peeve haha. (while writing this, i briefly considered the idea of "impure" and "chosen" as adjectives modifying "one" but we know that's not true—not just bc the game gives us a translation that says "plural" but also it's used with "warrior" and other objects to indicate plurality too. we also know that this language uses prepositive modifiers from sentences like "carry (the) small crate", so "impure" and "chosen" wouldn't be functioning correctly as adjectives anyway, as long as we assume that the language is consistent in this aspect of grammar.)

although this isn't entirely consistent across all of the languages and for all of the words, it seems that there's a trend that function words (as opposed to content words) tend to be visually simpler--this would include things like "up/great" from the devotee language, pronouns, and i'm also going to go ahead and include "not" and "plural" in this category. this isn't an unsurprising trend--i feel like in irl languages, the more grammatical a word/word component is, the simpler/easier to write it tends to be. we find that the plural marker in the warrior, bard, and alchemist languages are all relatively simple, which also makes them easier to identify when encountering them for the first time. i felt like this also makes the warrior's language interesting, in that the words for "small", "big", "bottle", "trolley", "call", and "moon" are also all relatively simple compared to the rest of the words. (i originally identified "small" and "big" as "this" and "that" because of this.) it might indicate something about the importance of these words in the warriors' culture? or i might just be reading too far into it lol.

questions that remain unanswered: - i wonder why "fear" breaks from the other verbs in terms of appearance (with the vertical line making the diamond part smaller) - i'm a bit too tired/impatient to go through the verbs in this language, but i wonder if there's some pattern to their appearance (since some of them look more similar than others)

[spicyraeman]

I usually don't send two asks in a row because I don't want to overwhelm you. But you just posted about phonology and I was curious and then bam hyperfocus. I found a pretty cool table of gith sounds :

https://conworkshop.com/view_language.php?l=GITH

It looks like there are a few main differences to english:

No W

-Like in french from France. She probably would say "Oo-il" for Wyll. They usually replace the W by a Oo or a V, depending on the sound after it. A "wagon" -> a vagon, but "when" -> ooän. In German you would have the W as a V, because it's already pronounced like that.

There is a type of Th, like in "thin", but not "this".

- I kinda hear the difference but I can't do it. The first one is closer to an s or an f and the second one to a z , I guess? A native english speaker may understand the nuance better.

There is a Zh

- It's the same as the French "j", like in the name Jacques (which could be your frenchsona btw. It's the equivalent of James). In English you add some kind of "d" in your "j". As an example, we visualise Djordan for Jordan. You take that D off, you got the sound. (Insert respectful trans joke here)

The Tl like in Nahuatl

- I can explain this one in english because I can't find the right translation, but you can find how it's pronounced on Wikipedia.

Gh is not silent

- Kind of a guttural G, like in dutch or the scottish gh.

The glottal stop '

- It marks a pause between syllables, while still linking them. Uh'Oh in English, "bu'er" for butter in cockney. It depends of the dialects/accent/language.

Everything is my understanding of this, obv, linguists please don't hate me. I'm just an audhd girly with a multi-lingual environnement and too much time.

Sooooooo Frog'zel is not completely off the table, but I'm sad the R's not an uvular one. It would make it a more "brutal" language. I think she would have some difficulties we see in frenglish. Especially when a letter has several ways to be pronounced, like cat / face or breath/breathe because it's straightforward in gith.

Ergo, she wouldn't have a stroke trying to say "library" like I do. But she would struggle with "throughout", I guess.

I couldn't find anything on tones and accentuations stuff though. I still want her to fight for her life like I do. I shouldn't be the only one suffering here.

I guess it can still change with context and stuff. Like the s in german becomes a sh when it's in front of a t.

I hope I was clear enough. Sorry for any spelling or formatting mistakes, cat fell asleep on my arms in the middle of this. But she's cute so forgive her please.

🫀🚑

You are always allowed to overwhelm me with worldbuilding shit like conlangs (even if this isn’t really a conlang) I live and breathe this stuff and I'm constantly rotating it around in the back of my brain

I cannot express the sheer joy I felt looking at these charts and comparing them to my own and seeing that I've got pretty much the same result! The only strange thing I found was the addition of a b sound, maybe I missed it but I haven’t found a single word that uses that sound (despite Lae’zel’s “bah’s”) Their chart is also missing a p sound but I believe that's due to when the charts were made bc there's only one Gith word that uses it and it was in bg3. Honestly tho, it makes a lot more sense for Gith to have a b sound and no p sound instead of the other way around, there are wayyyy more examples of languages with no p instead of no b (although a language with neither would be fun lol)

The lack of a W was the first thing that I noticed! But there's a fuck ton of languages without it so it makes sense, It doesn’t really fit the feel of the Gith language either. Also, I know in my heart that you’re probably very much right on the Wyll pronunciation but I was joking around with my friends while I was looking through all this stuff and one of them made a German comparison and the thought of the fascist space frogs having a german accent was just too funny to me to pass up

I personally find the Gith language having θ but not ð very fun for their accent! It's kind of a subtle difference but also not? I went through and pronounced a bunch of words with a ð sound with a θ instead and they sound harsher? I guess? It really did give them a more Gith feel honestly

(a little aside but the thought of a “frenchsona” is so fucking funny to me and you’re respectful trans joke got a legit laugh outta me lmao)

Fun fact! English does have a ʒ (zh) sound it's just not associated with a specific letter, it just kinda.. happens in words. All in all, it seems that Gith is relatively comparable in terms of sounds with English. The lack of a w and p/b (debatable) seems like they’d be the biggest ones to come up in everyday speech as far as phonetics goes

Also can I let you in on a little pet peeve of mine? I usually hate when “fantasy languages” use ‘ in their words bc most of the time it's just a cheap way to make it look more fantasy-esc or alien. BUT in Gith, it honestly works? Mostly because it actually is a glottal stop and not just a random “make this word look fantasy” addition

I'm also nowhere near a linguist, just insane about worldbuilding stuff (i have notebooks full of phonetic charts and mathematics on creating solar systems) It's really insightful and interesting to see the perspective of someone with a multi-lingual background tho as someone who only speaks English

I've always seen the Gith language as less brutal and more.. Sharp? I dunno how to describe it really, kinda harsh and pointed rather than guttural or brutal if that makes sense. But yeah if common is English then all the long and short sounds and strange exceptions would be supremely rough especially if you only ever really read it and never truly spoke it

I couldn’t even blame Lae’zel for not being able to pronounce throughout correctly cuz I can’t say that shit right either unless I'm really trying

If you want tones and accentuations you’re just gonna have to have fun and make em up, cuz sadly most fantasy “languages” are just a bunch of made up words with no real rhyme or reason. If I had the brain power to spare it’d be fun to flesh out a real Gith conlang

At least with a full phonetic chart, you can see what sounds the Gith wouldn’t be used to using and find out what words would cause trouble

Also I can forgive any and all misspelling or weird formatting, cute cats aside, cuz I have no clue how anyone could read this jumbled rambling mess lol gratz if you got this far and understood any of this

[levbolton]

differences between french, italian and german 1st chapter

i wanted to add the spanish and the brazilian versions too, but it was already a hassle to get the german and the italian ones.

anyway here's the first page in french, italian and german, surprisingly their colors are different. the contrast and the saturations and even the hues vary, even if by a little, but these are the ebook versions, maybe on paper they're different (the french one isn't very contrasted in particular). None of them replaced the original sound effects, only added the specific insects sounds for their language, not shoking as it's often done like this.

Ah something else i just noticed, french and italian still use the old version of hikaru’s shoes while the german edition uses the good one

I speak french, i can read italian and i don't know much more german than guten tag, so i can't really talk about the manner of speech of the latter 2 but in french it goes a bit like the english (yer instead of you/'re/r) with stuff like "j'peux" or "m'dame" (insteaf of "je peux" and "madame"). i think it work since these 2 languages don't really have a lot of dialects like japan does (i always say that if they were ever to translate kansai accent in romanian they should do in a moldavian way). As i was told, the german edition kinda sticked to the formal german (germany has a lot of dialects for every region). I can't pick up stuff about italian yet, so if you know more you can explain in a reblog

then of course it's hard to adapt word games in other languages. In japanese it was 'torture' and 'anus', written the same but with different pronunciation. Anyway, in italian yoshiki warns hikaru about his intonation, but i don't think the word has any other meaning based on the pronunciation. In french hiakru says "tortue" (turtle) instead of "torture" (still a thing abt pronunciation bcs you have to put weight on the r to make the difference). again, i don't speak german (my dutch is useless here welp) but it looks a bt more complex, maybe a mix in expressions, idk.

next is the reveal scene, french and german are like "i thought i was copying him perfectly" while italian is "i thought my imitation was perfect"

i think this is pretty much all i can say, i looked through the next pages, they seem identical more or less (yoshiki always avoids the girlfriend question hahaha)

oh wait wait wait update: here's something i could say more

the moment yoshiki stops calling Hikaru 光 but ヒカル (to differenciate hikaru and unuki)

italian uses "", french changes the font, german doesn't really do anything. All start with "Hikaru is no longer" but the translations are different even if they lead to the same conclusion, italian says that "despite not being the real deal even a fake would be good", french says "even if he's not real i still want him next to me", and german i can guess it says something like "i want at least to have the fake hikaru"

im curious about the english translation next week

also y'all can reblog it in spanish (both latin and european) and portugese with these pages (you can get them from the amazon ebook sample which is free) bcs im curious how they look (and polish, but they don't have amazon)

[possibilistfanfiction]

"the neoliberal rhetoric of the pronoun (ESPECIALLY in english) as the ultimate form of advocacy" -- it's such a relief to hear your take on ava's thoughts on pronouns bc i've always been frustrated by how limiting they are? how much stress they cause? i know pronouns are important for some folks but also we're so much more than that...

whew like ok i work in dei, mostly for youth (sport, schools, etc) but also doing lgbtq 101 workshops for upper level execs who run big sports orgs, school districts, blah blah, & it's like... people really think that getting someone's pronouns right (or even trying to get someone's pronouns right) is like........ you have done it! u are not transphobic! u understand the nuances of everyone's gender if you use the right pronoun!

& like... i get paid a fair amount of money to lowkey sell out & explain what a pronoun is (lol) but at the same time it is the fucking bane of my existence. i personally hate pronouns. i think they are legitimately so stupid lol. like... to distill the vast nuanced experience of both having a gender identity AND being perceived at all times as a gendered being (which sometimes match & sometimes don't) into a PRONOUN is just baffling to me.

i think cis people (especially those who don't really want to do the work needed to understand what abolition means -- how queerness & especially gender expansive trans identities are a crucial part of the intersection of where that ethic is rooted) just see pronouns as a sort of easy way out. like you're cool with trans people if you can remember someone's they/them pronouns. it's so gross & so deeply tried up in representational politics (diverse oppressors are still oppressors, white supremacy can be present in ethic & politic even without a white person in the room, etc).

& of course like you said pronouns are definitely important to some people (it is always nice to feel seen & respected at the most basic level 🤪) & definitely not at all saying that anyone should like get people's pronouns wrong, obviously, but i just really hate the concept of how my entire experience as a dyke & a person in general has to be reflected to the world at all times in a silly word which is so vastly incomplete. & i genuinely (not anyone's fault!) hate how that can get tied up in my writing, especially my writing about queerness. when ppl rly care abt terms & IDs etc i can understand bc the common messaging is all rooted in neoliberalism & "representation" instead of anti-state resistance, etc, so it's like. okay lol. but i am intentional in the way i write queerness bc of my own ethic & politic, so you know

ANYWAY yes. queerness & transness is so deeply expansive, to make it only about (or mostly about) pronouns is, to me, ethically against what queerness & transness really is, especially if those pronouns are mostly talked about in the context of english. & i would be remiss in saying that using non-normative &/or neopronouns is a privilege rooted in safety. often i don't disclose they/them pronouns bc i just don't want to explain myself, & i deeply do not care, but i'm always protected in a lot of ways by my whiteness (& that i'm educated, able-bodied, cis-passing, employed, etc etc etc). for a lot of people, for a lot of reasons, pronouns aren't safe. being out as trans isn't safe. but that doesn't mean their gender identities are any different or less important or less vital.

so yah ur right sorry this is a rant lmfao & once & for all.... ava is the most anti-state anti-institution character lmao. she genuinely would not give a flying fuck about her own pronouns. god doesn't fit into a pronoun anyway :)

[drawnaghht]

so..... Am I the only one who heard the reverse-akuma as "kumiko" and think that makes more sense, both for pronunciation and for meaning?

i watched the mlb paris special and tho ii've been off mlb for years now i was pulled back by this

I went to google this after I watched the special last month.

Now... I could try and find out what the exact meaning for the names could be, but instead I'll try to see what the crew would have thought a good re-name for these reverse-akuma could be from the POV of "what would this character name a good version of his power".

Now, commonly, the word "Akuma" means "demon" - fitting for HawkMoths Butterfly, I was a bit annoyed with the choice first when the show aired, but I'm so used to it now, I don't really question it anymore why the crew decided on this name. it seems like looking for simple pronunciation and recognition were at play here.

I find that because our ordinary evil!Gabe has always names things in sly but very direct ways, reverse!Gabriel would probably use babyname sites for inspiration for names etc. - as you do when you have access to the internet and are out of ideas.

Kumiko - Meaning: Companion child; Drawing together; Forever beautiful child

Kamiko - Meaning: Fragrant ocean child, "Little Goddess"

we don't know the exact kanji, so I can't actually say what the real meaning it would be. for example, japanese-names.info lists a similar meaning to both of these, depending on the spelling. to a native japanese speaker, the meaning would probably be obvious and then the reason for picking the name as well, like with the original "akuma"

but, considering how the crew on this show likes to name things - by going for the most obvious solutions, but also mirroring things in this special ep - the first one seems more plausible just by those reasons alone. But also, I feel like even if we didn't consider japanese pronunciation (as is often done in other-language productions, to adhere to local pronunciation so the word/spelling is easier to understand), it seems like it would be easier to pronounce this way in english.

I can only deduce that re-naming the akuma butterflies, they must have found the same search results I did the first time, and just went for it. Or maybe someone in the crew knows more japanese and chinese vocabulary/names than they're letting on in the show-proper.

The only real difference as a person's name, comes down to the differences between the "ku" and "ka" syllibles. I could probably find out more if i go to https://www.romajidesu.com/ and did a deep dive about the different meanings of these two syllables in ordinary words as well.

so.. even if i didn't know much about japanese as a language (i don't know much in any case anyway, besides how to pronounce japanese words and names) imo - sounds like smth the crew would use-just bc it sounds like an almost reversal/anagram of akuma - it's just gotta have that "ku" in there.

The second choice also becomes plausible once you think of the work "Kami" for "god" being the direct opposition to "demon", the original version we see in the actual show. "a small companion" vs "a small god" - seeing it from this POV, both seem possible good meanings, if you start to expand on them like that. + r!Gabe does have the whole angel-theme going on.

I am holding my preference with "kumiko" because I picture that when they made reverse!Gabe, they probably pictured that his version of the akuma would be re-imagined as a companion, rather than something that takes over. But the angel motif on the other side, does feel like it "takes over" as well, just in a different way.

As an aside note, I found it funny how much they'd managed to change reverse!Hawkmoth as Betterfly. Like. Completely different character. Still has Gabriel's face so I want to punch him, but. At least he is interesting and sorta entertaining to watch on screen? I guess? sdfsdfs it's just very entertaining to me, to see Keith (both Halwkmoth/Betterfly's VA) play another completely different version of this character (pancake-Gabe and movie-Gbe I am looking at you)

2nd: I sorta hate the word "akumatized", but you gotta hand it, it sounds better than "kamikotized" - vs "kumikotized" '- I guess would have the same weird effect as "akumatized" the first time you watch it, that it sounds un-natural as a word a bit, but then you slowly grow into hearing it.

anyways.... both are girl names, but kumiko is literally what I heard Keith Silverstein pronounce lol

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

All five languages in the game are just English slightly to the left, which makes them easy to generate but also just bad to deal with from a worldbuilding standpoint, so I've simply decided that I'm going to ignore that

Which means that everything is free game and I'm having a good time

(This isn't a comprehensive post on anything but! Here are some Thoughts on Orokin and Corpus for starters if anyone is interested in Pure Linguistic Nonsense)

The official source attributes what we know as the Orokin script* to Tenno culture (going as far as calling it Tennobet) but that source is from 2014, before most of the lore of the game was established at all. Also Orokin script now appears outside of Tenno spaces - namely in various void buildings, and on the Zariman insignia, which predates Tenno culture as a whole

*I'm calling it a script, bc it's technically an abugida, not an alphabet, since it treats consonant-vowel pairs as units and writes vowels over consonants akin to diacritics (accents and whatnot) instead of treating them as equal

So! I consider this script to have been the one in use by Orokin, instead of being Tenno-exclusive

Disconnecting the whole thing from English means i can do whatever i want vis a vis morphological typology (sorting languages based on how they form words) and I very excitedly landed on synthetic, occasionally polysynthetic for Orokin. Synthetic means that they glued together their words from a whole bunch of bits that didn't only mean one specific thing (e.g. a suffix didn't just mean "plural", it meant "plural, inanimate, belongs to the speaker" and if you wanted to instead say "plural, animate, belongs to the speaker" you'd need a completely different suffix). Occasionally polysynthetic means they sometimes took this to the level where entire thoughts could be compressed into a single word, and the suffixes used would sometimes affect each other as well

Reason? Some of the (if not the) only Orokin words with exact translations we have are the new names the Entrati family give each other. They all have their poetic meanings expressed as sentences in English and yet end up as only 2-3 syllables, which really fits with a synthetic/polysynthetic language to me

(You could make the argument that these were actually established names and they're all just quoting etymology, but that doesn't sit well with me for multiple reasons)

As for Corpus!

They trace their roots back to the Orokin, but that's, y'know, thousands of years ago, so A Lot Has Changed. Most of the Corpus language has been artificially made analytic (meaning you don't slap affixes onto words most of the time but simply line them up one after the other) for sake of…let's call it ease

But they still retain traces from the old Orokin ways! They have quite a few root words that can still be traced back to their Orokin counterparts. With how obsessed they are with Orokin shit, I imagine Corpus-Orokin Comparative Linguistics is a well-researched field. Interestingly, despite being mostly analytic, Corpus retains some odd bits of polysynthetic behaviour without joining their morphemes together at all! Meaning sometimes you have a word that means "spaceship" and then you add a separate word that means "<- whatever that inanimate thing is is owned by the speaker", and suddenly the "spaceship" word has taken a completely different form! It's a bit of a mess

(I'm aware that this is also a thing that exists. Russian does it, kinda! But I don't know where Russian gets it from, and I'm telling this this way bc I do know where Corpus gets it from)

There's also some words that have held onto their Orokin roots so much that they still behave as synthetic/polysynthetic! Notably, Orokin has affixes entirely unique to specific words denoting high social class (to use them for any other words would've been a grave insult, and to use anything else for these high class words would've been the same. Unless you're high class yourself, then the first instance can be a joke). One such word has evolved into the Corpus word for "CEO" and retains synthetic behaviour with affixes entirely unique to it

The language has been carefully trimmed to become more impersonal. Not entirely of course, but the average Corpus is a lot more sparing with any words and phrases that aren't objective. They also rarely use diminutives and shortenings of any kind

We only have one example of handwritten Corpus (the John Prodman poster), which is such a neat thing to have! But the Corpus alphabet is clanky as hell to handwrite and I refuse to believe that even in an age of holo-tablets and combat-magic humans have abandoned pen and paper entirely

So how is Corpus handwritten? In shorthand! Shorthands are writing systems (not necessarily alphabets) made to be written as fast as speech or thought, and are usually Very simplified and contain many abbreviations (both official and personal) to achieve this. Corpus handwrite pretty much exclusively in shorthand - handwriting their standard, printed alphabet is more akin to trying to mimic a specific font or do calligraphy if you were to do the same in English. While widely used, shorthand text is considered unprofessional and private, and is overall something that a lot of non-Corpus aren't even aware exists (hence the John Prodman signature mimicking the standard alphabet as well. You want that shit to look nice and be legible)

Okay I'm gonna go rest now, thank you for your time

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Just wanted to let you know that I noticed the devil fruit name you used "kiku kiku no mi" and Idk if you mentioned if you know about this (again, only just found your blog) so forgive me if you have, but I wanted to fangirl about it real quick (and if you know about this stuff then I guess this is for your readers)

I took Japanese as an elective this year and I developed a bit of an hyperfixation on the grammar BC it's so cool (why yes I was bullied in school, how could you tell?) how well set out everything is compared to english as the Frankenstein's monster of languages

Basically: "no" is a single character, and single characters can either be used in words (like kimono) for their phonetic sounds, or some characters are used on their own either as words or as particles. "No" as a particle, is used to specify. It can be used to indicate something belonging to someone - kind of like how you'd say "Clara's bike" in Japanese you'd say "Clara-san no jitensha(bike)" - or something belonging to a category - like saying you have a Japanese friend would be "Nihonjin no Tomodachi". (Friend, belonging to the category of 'japanese people')

So when devil fruits are called "____ ____ no mi" it's referring to a fruit (mi) belonging to a category. (E.g, Devil fruit of gum).

I'm pretty sure (but haven't checked) that devil fruit use nouns and onomatopoeia, but no verbs.

Here's the fangirling:

"Kiku" is the dictionary/plain/root form of the verb 'to hear' (which I'm sure you knew), basically it can be used on its own as a verb in casual company, but typically you'd conjugate it in polite/formal conversation (like how "write" can become "writing" (present), or "wrote" (past), etc.)

"Kiku" is ALSO the root form of the verb 'to ask', so the words for asking, asked, will ask, and the words for hearing/listening, listened/heard, etc., are exactly the same and you'd tell which is which based on context. (There's also another word for asking but they're pretty much interchangeable and we're gonna focus on the metaphor of this word)

Kiku can be conjugated into many different, more specific meanings (as it only applies to the present and future, or habitual actions such as saying you regularly listen to music, and is only for casual convo, not polite), but always has the same root.

BUT, Japanese verbs can be classified by their characters (which inform how they conjugate) OR as transitive and intransitive.

Transitive verbs can (or have to) take on an object/noun (e.g; 'eat' can be used as "I ate" or "I ate (noun)"), while intransitive verbs typically cannot (e.g; you can only say "I laughed" instead of "I laughed (noun)").

"Kiku" is a transitive verb. You can say "I hear" or "I listen to music" and you can say "I asked" or "I asked a question".

And SOMETHING ABOUT IT is driving me crazy.

The thought of karimi never getting asked if she wanted these powers and never being able to ask them to stop.

Only ever knowing her 'kiku' fruit for the meaning of 'to hear', and occasionally 'to listen' when it's intentional, but it's never not 'to hear' because she doesn't have a choice about that.

Something about never being able to ask someone if she can hear their thoughts because the fruit doesn't work like that and she despises that it robbed her agency but the agency of those around her as well. Something about how hard she worked to be able to NOT hear. Not just to give her reprieve but to give agency back to those around her.

Something about how she can't ask before she uses her powers out of respect, but she also can't really ask to hear someone's thoughts out of love, the way you might ask someone to tell you what's on their mind.

Something about how, given the structure of Japanese verb sentences, "I hear your thoughts" wouldn't be too much different from "I ask your thoughts". (If you used a very basic sentence)

How, Karimi might desparately try to ask for someone's (*cough* Mihawk *cough*) thoughts, genuinely wanting a connection, only to have it sound like she's saying she'll read them anyway, and hate that she has that taken away too.

How, if someone (*cough* MIHAWK *cough*) were to finally ask her for her thoughts, she would probably think it would be to even the playing field, think that they despise her powers as much as she does. And maybe, at first, it is.

Until they ask for her thoughts.

Ask her if she wanted this ability, ask her if she hated it, ask her if there's anything they can do, ask her about her life, ask her about her past, ask her about her grandma, ask her about her hopes and dreams, her favourite colour, how she likes her tea. Until it's undeniable that they're not just evening the playing field.

Or maybe they are, but not for them.

Maybe someone finally understands how much of a burden it is to constantly know and hear but never be known or heard in return.

Because they did hear her. Maybe not her thoughts. Maybe not like she heard them. But they heard her. Over time they grew to know her, and recognised, even without use of her devil fruit ability, that she didn't ask for this.

So they're asking for her.

(also, could be interesting for a secret power in addition to hearing thoughts. I mean even if you just stick with the current power, if she did ask someone something they'd probably think of the true answer even if they lied or didn't say anything, so it's also like she has the power of asking)

Kinda bouncing at the fact that you noticed it was a verb rather than a noun like known canonical devil fruits. I studied Japanese a little on my own (Rosetta Stone and an old app called Human Japanese that may or may not still exist) just as a hobby, and got a minute understanding of sentence structure and grammar out of it, so this is just wonderful honestly ❤️

There's actually a very stupid reason for the name of the fruit.

When her father's crew found the devil fruit, they didn't know what power it possessed. They were planning most likely on selling it off to the highest bidder, though a few of them were of course daring each other to just eat the thing and see what happened.

Karimi got a hold of it first, on a long stretch between islands on the Grand Line. She was pushing four years old, she was hungry, it was a pretty fruit. Her father's first mate, Janx, was supposed to be guarding the thing...but he fell asleep. There may have been rum involved. The chest it was in was left unlocked because the crew's cook almost talked him into eating it, and he forgot to lock it back up.

Big whoops.

Cut to three year old Karimi screaming bloody murder about "voices," and barely getting caught before she can shove a knife in her own ear, at which point Janx wakes up and realizes oh shit the devil fruit is gone he is so dead

Captain Lyon (hates his given name, personal reasons) is pretty out of his depth on the matter. He was only seventeen when Karimi was born. He's been on the Grand Line a couple years, and pirating is a lot easier than parenting, and he has no idea what's going on or how to deal with the fact that his child is hearing voices...until Janx pulls him aside and indicates the empty chest and just points at Karimi, totally speechless.

Lyon barely manages to keep his cool and not outright murder his first mate, more for Karimi's sake than anything, and he and his first mate figure out pretty quickly that the girl can now hear their thoughts. Everyone's thoughts.

Janx is the one who coins "kiku kiku no mi," sort of in passing, while they're discussing how to handle the issue.

Lyon tells him that makes no sense. "Kange" (for thought) or "Koe" (for voice) would make more sense, given the general naming procedures of devil fruits.

Janx just shrugs and points out that kiku "has a nicer ring to it, though."

And...it just sort of ended up sticking because Janx kept calling it that and Lyon got tired of arguing about it. Janx is made up of pure chaotic energy that counterbalances Lyon's relatively more laid back personality, I'm honestly itching to write Lyon's story because I love them both so much.

Where Mihawk is concerned, he's pretty put off by the idea of anyone being in his head, voluntarily or otherwise; and he doesn't like the idea of his associate wasting her energy using Haki to keep the ability "turned off," so he takes measures to prevent both pretty early on (which will be covered in either the next chapter or the one immediately thereafter). The measure in question is an important bonding point between their characters so I won't be saying anything else on the subject here.

[haledamage]

and Wayhaven asks for Kira: I also want to know 15, 29, and, um, 30, bc I think I know all the rest already xD

15. Would they have reacted to Falk's flirting, if given the opportunity?

in a situation where she wasn't already deep in her feelings about one of our favorite vampires... probably. he is very pretty, if a little intense, and I'm starting to get a sense that she likes men with long hair

but as it stands, no. by the end of book 2, she's already very aware of how she feels, and has probably considered the L-word at least once on all the routes (with various levels of trepidation)

29. If they could have chosen a different profession, what would it be?

I have a half-formed au of Kira as an editor for the newspaper instead of a detective, which I think would suit her really well! it would be a job that would actually use her English degree, and would let her apply both her people skills and her deductive/knowledge skills. plus, it would let her be selectively antisocial instead of being so public-facing like her detective job!

the only downside being... Bobby. so much interacting with Bobby. but hey, at least she might be able to report him for sexual harassment if he keeps calling her "angel"

(the reason it's only a half-formed au is because I haven't figured out how Kira would actually get involved with all the Unit Bravo/Agency stuff. she wouldn't have any reason to cross paths with Murphy, and UB aren't good enough actors to convince Kira that a small town newspaper editor needs a team of four trained secret agents to protect her. the only way it would happen is if outside forces dragged her into it. or if only one team member went in undercover or something 🤔 hmmmm, that has potential)

30. Any funfacts about them you'd like to add?

hmmmm what fun facts do I have about Kira that I haven't already shared...

oh! I really want to give her another tattoo after the events of book 3, or between 3 and 4 depending on if there's any timeskip there. something unique to each romance but not necessarily like a romantic tattoo, if you know what I mean

the idea came to me because one of my favorite tattoo artists had some flash designs that involved crystals and I was like 👀

(not this exact design, but it was along the same line)

and now all I can think is Kira getting a crystal tattoo on Mason's route (probably on her sternum, right about where it would hang if it were on a necklace 👀)

I haven't figured out what she'd get on Nate's or Felix's route yet. they are very difficult to pin a solid idea on, but I'm working on it

I have a few possible thoughts for Adam's route, but I keep coming back to the idea (this is your fault, you put this in my head) of "fear makes us fighters" along the slope between her neck and shoulder, starting just under the scar from Murphy >:3 won't that be a fun thing for Adam to (eventually) find when he (eventually) gets his act together and (eventually) romances Kira the way she deserves

also not really a fact about her, but I'm considering retconning parts of Kira's backstory and making her American 😆 pretty sure that idea came about because I wrote a line in something recently where she mentioned her senior prom and then I had to go down a research rabbit hole to find out if that's even a thing outside the US

plus, once I look past Mishka's Britishness leaking through, Wayhaven does have deep-south-small-town vibes. somewhere near Savannah or Charleston, maybe 🤔

[ovtsakaramel]

Hii I know this wasn't directed to me but I have some thoughts to share so... First, we need to know what purity means. I used to call Annie "pure" before bc my english was really really bad but now that I actually swallowed my ego that I know it naturally and actually started learning it I started thinking about the words and like about Annie and pureness. Google says that "pure" means:

1. freedom from adulteration or contamination.

2.not mixed or adulterated with any other substance or material.

3.perfectly in tune and with a clear tone.

The last two aren't really about humans but metaphors exist.

For the first one it translates to not being spiced up with a spice (best way I can describe it, but like not real spice just with something), not being like messed with, not redacted and not being dirty. You could say that Annie is pure (not talking about the dirty but about the first one) because she wasn't made to act like someone she's not, she wasn't made to pretend that things are perfect like the other victors being forced to change their personalities and pretend to be grateful and happy about what the Capitol gives them. Annie is "crazy" (not saying she really is but she is what the Capitol would take this word as) and people obviously don't think she is very happy after the games. They redacted her but not in the way they wanted to. Not making her a stereotypical celebrity and taking off her physical and mental "flaws". But instead of redacting her they messed with her. So you could say that she is and isn't pure by the first definition.

The second one is again like being spiced up with something, adding the new flavor to you how I said up and not being mixed with any substance. It would basically be the same thing. She could be mixed between that celebrity but instead she's mixed between herself again and that "crazy" girl, the one unlocked in the arena. Like being confused which one is her, for both. Being two personalities mixed together like metals and you can't tell which is which. Like they're mixed, in one place or for the whole thing they're one. But with the ones forced by the Capitol they know that they're pretending, but thinking that you could play a character so well to fool the entire Capitol, at least in your eyes could make you feel like you're going insane, thinking you're slowly turning into someone you're not, don't know and don't ever want to be. Even if you are yourself and you really are pretending which is the case is truth in one way or another you psychic would be so messed up by Panel as a whole that you would start going "crazy". But you would hide it because you have to and you would continue playing this character when Annie just can't. She can't see the difference between the old one and the "crazy" one in herself because in this case they really are one. Now this is a part of her and she has to deal with it. Again, if she's pure in this case or not, it's about how it's taken.

For the third one my girl is not in tune all the others would he in a melody and she's breaking it. She's the victor who went "crazy", the mistake, the flaw in some way, break in the whatever. She's the one who isn't like the others because she's the one who just can't, no matter how much she tries, pretend.

If you take purity as sexual I don't think Annie is free of sexual activity and I'm actually pissed when people think the problem with the Capitol is that they're sexually active and have multiple sexual partners and not that they're having unconstitutional one where they are not the victim and most probably cheating. Or if purity is about about killing and doing other acts of violence or immoral acts, I think that Annie was a career and did kill in the games, so she, at least for me, isn't pure on that way either.

So basically purity is very different, depends on how you see it. There are many other definitions of it and they would probably be completely different from those I listed. Annie could be pure in some ways, even if it's the same definition depends on how you take it, she could both be and not. First you have to choose a definition, then in which way you're looking at it and your mind not be a mess like mine.

I love the idea that Finnick was Annie’s mentor, but it just seems so cliche to me, like the whole “stronger, more experienced yet closer off mentor falls in love with weak, doesn’t-have-a-chance-at-survival mentee and does everything he can to save her” is just old and boring. I prefer the headcannon that it was Mags who mentored Annie, instantly took a liking to her, trained her good and everything, and after Annie was crowned victor, she began to spend more and more time with Mags. Now that is where Finnick comes in. I think, when he was a younger victor, after his family died, he moved in with Mags and stayed there for a while, so when Annie begun to come over more and more, that’s when he took notice to her. And Mags, (we love her for this), saw something between them immediately. She played match-maker, and boom, they’re dating. I also feel like the tribute/mentor thing doesn’t really add up, as Finnick said that Annie “crept up on him”, which meant it would take time, but mentors only have their tributes for about a week. Still, he could’ve fallen for her afterwards, but I don’t think it makes much sense to me. Adding on, I’ve seen lots of head cannons that Annie trained and volunteered, which I also love, but I like keeping Annie as the feminine, soft character. That doesn’t make her weak, per say, it means she’s a gentle soul. Yes, I think she killed in the arena, and she did what she had to do to survive, but don’t diminish her purity !! She didn’t play into the Capitol’s games, acting like she was perfectly fine and unaffected, which, in my opinion, is what makes her pure and sets her apart from the other victors. But hey, it’s just a theory, a Hunger Games theory !!

[pumpkinpaix]

hello there, hope you're having a nice day <3

so i've been reading a lot of fics lately, uk for sanity's sake, and i've noticed that in most of them, lwj doesn't use contractions (eg., says do not instead of don't)?? and i think he doesn't in the novel either but i don't remember lol so i can't be sure but anyway that made me curious - does chinese have contractions as well? does he not use it bc it's informal?

hello there! I’m doing all right, i started to answer this ask while waiting for a jingyeast loaf to come out of the oven 😊 many thanks to @bookofstars for helping me look over/edit/correct this post!! :D

anyways! the answer to your questions are complicated (of course it is when is anything simple with me), so let’s see if I can break it down--you’re asking a) whether chinese has contractions, b) if it does, how does they change the tone of the sentence--is it similar to english or no?, and c) how does this all end up with lan wangji pretty much never using contractions in english fic/translation?

I’m gonna start by talking about how formality is (generally) expressed in each language, and hopefully, by the end of this post, all the questions will have been answered in one way or another. so: chinese and english express variations in formality/register differently, oftentimes in ways that run contrary to one another. I am, as always, neither a linguist nor an expert in chinese and english uhhh sociological grammar? for lack of a better word. I’m speaking from my own experience and knowledge :D

so with a character like lan wangji, it makes perfect sense in english to write his dialogue without contractions, as contractions are considered informal or colloquial. I don’t know if this has changed in recent years, but I was always taught in school to never use contractions in my academic papers.

However! not using contractions necessarily extends the length of the sentence: “do not” takes longer to say than “don’t”, “cannot” is longer than “can’t” etc. in english, formality is often correlated with sentence length: the longest way you can say something ends up sounding the most formal. for a very simplified example, take this progression from least formal to absurdly formal:

whatcha doin’?

what’re you doing?

what are you doing? [standard colloquial]

may I ask what you are doing?

might I inquire as to what you are doing?

excuse me, but might I inquire as to what you are doing?

pardon my intrusion, but might I inquire as to what you are doing?

please pardon my intrusion, but might inquire as to the nature of your current actions?

this is obviously a somewhat overwrought example, but you get the point. oftentimes, the longer, more complex, more indirect sentence constructions indicate a greater formality, often because there is a simultaneous decreasing of certainty. downplaying the speaker’s certainty can show deference (or weakness) in english, while certainty tends to show authority/confidence (or aggression/rudeness).

different words also carry different implications of formality—in the example, I switched “excuse me” to “pardon me” during one of the step ups. pardon (to me at least) feels like a more formal word than “excuse”. Similarly, “inquire” is more formal than “ask” etc. I suspect that at least some of what makes one word seem more formal than one of its synonyms has to do with etymology. many of english’s most formal/academic words come from latin (which also tends to have longer words generally!), while our personal/colloquial words tend to have germanic origins (inquire [latin] vs ask [germanic]).

you’ll also notice that changing a more direct sentence structure (“may I ask what”) to a more indirect one (“might I inquire as to”) also jumps a register. a lot of english is like this — you can complicate simple direct sentences by switching the way you use the verbs/how many auxiliaries you use etc.

THE POINT IS: with regards to english, more formal sentence structures are often (not always) longer and more indirect than informal ones. this leads us to a problem with a character like lan wangji.

lan wangji is canonically very taciturn. if he can express his meaning in two words rather than three, then he will. and chinese allows for this—in extreme ways. if you haven’t already read @hunxi-guilai’s post on linguistic register (in CQL only, but it’s applicable across the board), I would start there because haha! I certainly do Not have a degree in Classical Chinese lit and she does a great job. :D

you can see from the examples that hunxi chose that often, longer sentences tend to be more informal in chinese (not always, which I’ll circle back to at the end lol). Colloquial chinese makes use of helping particles to indicate tone and meaning, as is shown in wei wuxian’s dialogue. and, as hunxi explained, those particles are largely absent from lan wangji’s speech pattern. chinese isn’t built of “words” in the way English is—each character is less a word and more a morpheme—and the language allows for a lot of information to be encoded in one character. a single character can often stand for a phrase within a sentence without sacrificing either meaning or formality. lan wangji makes ample use of this in order to express himself in the fewest syllables possible.

so this obviously leads to an incongruity when trying to translate his dialogue or capture his voice in English: shorter sentences are usually more direct by nature, and directness/certainty is often construed as rudeness -- but it might seem strange to see lan wangji’s dialogue full of longer sentences while the narration explicitly says that he uses very short sentences. so what happens is that many english fic writers extrapolated this into creating an english speech pattern for lan wangji that reads oddly. they’ll have lan wangji speak in grammatically incoherent fragments that distill his intended thought because they’re trying to recreate his succinctness. unfortunately, English doesn’t have as much freedom as Chinese does in this way, and it results in lan wangji sounding as if he has some kind of linguistic impediment and/or as if he’s being unspeakably rude in certain situations. In reality, lan wangji’s speech is perfectly polite for a young member of the gentry (though he’s still terribly rude in other ways lol). he speaks in full, and honestly, quite eloquent sentences.

hunxi’s post already has a lot of examples, but I figure I’ll do one as well focused on the specifics of this post.

I’m going to use this exchange from chapter 63 between the twin jades because I think it’s a pretty simple way to illustrate what I’m talking about:

蓝曦臣道：“你亲眼所见？”

蓝忘机道：“他亲眼所见。”

蓝曦臣道：“你相信他？”

蓝忘机道：“信。”

[...] 蓝曦臣道：“那么金光瑶呢？”

蓝忘机道：“不可信。”

my translation:

Lan Xichen said, “You saw it with your own eyes?”

Lan Wangji said, “He saw it with his own eyes.”

Lan Xichen said, “You believe him?”

Lan Wangji said, “I believe him.”

[...] Lan Xichen said, “Then what about Jin Guangyao?”

Lan Wangji said, “He cannot be believed.”

you can see how much longer the (pretty literal) english translations are! every single line of dialogue is expanded because things that can be omitted in chinese cannot be omitted in english without losing grammatical coherency. i‘ll break a few of them down:

Lan Xichen’s first line:

你 (you) 亲眼 (with one’s own eyes) 所 (literary auxiliary) 见 (met/saw)？

idk but i love this line a lot lmao. it just has such an elegant feel to me, probably because I am an uncultured rube. anyways, you see here that he expressed his full thought in five characters.

if I were to rewrite this sentence into something much less formal/much more modern, I might have it become something like this:

你是自己看见的吗？

你 (you) 是 (to be) 自己 (oneself) 看见 (see) 的 (auxiliary) 吗 (interrogative particle)？

i suspect that this construction might even be somewhat childish? I’ve replaced every single formal part of the sentence with a more colloquial one. instead of 亲眼 i’ve used 自己, instead of 所见 i’ve used 看见的 and then also added an interrogative particle at the end for good measure (吗). To translate this, I would probably go with “Did you see it yourself?”

contained in this is also an example of how one character can represent a whole concept that can also be represented with two characters: 见 vs 看见. in this example, both mean “to see”. we’ll see it again in the next example as well:

in response to lan xichen’s, “you believe him?” --> 你 (you) 相信 (believe) 他 (him)? lan wangji answers with, “信” (believe).

chinese does not do yes or no questions in the same way that english does. there is no catch-all for yes or no, though there are general affirmative (是／有) and negative (不／没) characters. there are other affirmative/negative characters, but these are the ones that I believe are the most common and also the ones that you may see in response to yes or no questions on their own. (don’t quote me on that lol)

regardless, the way you respond to a yes or no question is often by repeating the verb phrase either in affirmative or negative. so here, when lan xichen asks if lan wangji believes wei wuxian, lan wangji responds “believe”. once again, you can see that one character can stand in for a concept that may also be expressed in two characters: 信 takes the place of 相信. lan wangji could have responded with “相信” just as well, but, true to his character, he didn’t because he didn’t need to. this is still a complete sentence. lan wangji has discarded the subject (I), the object (him), and also half the verb (相), and lost no meaning whatsoever. you can’t do this in english!

and onto the last exchange:

lan xichen: 那么 (then) 金光瑶 (jin guangyao) 呢 (what about)？

lan wangji: 不可 (cannot) 信 (believe)

you can actually see the contrast between the two brothers’ speech patterns even in this. lan xichen’s question is not quite as pared down as it could be. if it were wangji’s line instead, I would expect it to read simply “金光瑶呢？” which would just be “what about jin guangyao?” 那么 isn’t necessary to convey the core thought -- it’s just as how “then what about” is different than “what about”, but “then” is not necessary to the central question. if we wanted to keep the “then” aspect, you could still cut out 么 and it would be the same meaning as well.

a FINAL example of how something can be cut down just because I think examples are helpful:

“I don’t know” is usually given as 我不知道. (this is what nie huaisang says lol) It contains subject (我) and full verb (知道). you can pare this straight down to just 不知 and it would mean the same thing in the correct context. i think most of the characters do this at least once? it sounds more literary -- i don’t know that i would ever use it in everyday speech, but the fact remains that it’s a possibility. both could be translated as “I do not know” and it would be accurate.

ANYWAYS, getting all the way back to one of your original questions: does chinese have contractions? and the answer is like... kind of...?? but not really. there’s certainly slang/dialect variants that can be used in ways that are reminiscent of english contractions. the example I’m thinking of is the character 啥 (sha2) which can be used as slang in place of 什么 (shen2 me). (which means “what”)

so for a standard sentence of, 你在做什么? (what are you doing), you could shorten down to just 做啥? and the second construction is less formal than the first, but they mean the same thing.

other slang i can think of off the top of my head: 干嘛 (gan4 ma2) is also informal slang for “what are you doing”. and i think this is a regional thing, but you can also use 搞 (gao3) and 整 (zheng3) to mean “do” as well.

so in the same way that you can replace 什么 with 啥, you can replace 做 as well to get constructions like 搞啥 (gao3 sha2) and 整啥 (zheng3 sha2).

these are all different ways to say “what are you doing” lmao, and in this case, shorter is not, in fact, more formal.

woo! we made it to the end! I hope it was informative and helpful to you anon. :D

this is where I would normally throw my ko-fi, but instead, I’m actually going to link you to this fundraising post for an old fandom friend of mine. her house burned down mid-september and they could still use help if anyone can spare it! if this post would have moved you to buy me a ko-fi, please send that money to her family instead. :) rbs are also appreciated on the post itself. (* ´▽` *)

anyways, here’s the loaf jingyeast made :3 it was very tasty.

[moiraineswife]

Jasnah and Wit - Presentation Meta

Part 1 of the great saga of Witsnah “WELL ACTUALLY” metas I plan on doing bc y’all have just pushed me That Far. 

Well hello there. I’m GRUMPY. And what I do when I’m grumpy is I channel it into a little thing called spite meta. That’s what this is. It’s me angrily yelling for several thousand words about why this thing is a GOOD thing, actually. 

Today’s subject, the much controversial post Rhythm of War canon pairing that is: Wit/Jasnah. 

So let’s (angrily) explore why this is actually a positive thing for both characters, on a nuanced, meta, character analysis level. Because that’s the only level that I have. 

I admit, I was sceptical and uncertain. But when I actually sat and thought about this for a hot second...It started making a lot of sense to me. And then I thought about it for, like, a hot minute, and it made a LOT of sense to me. And now I’ve thought about it for a hot month, so come. Step into my thoughts, and I will explain my perspective on this all…

Firstly we’re going to talk about clothes. Yes, clothes. Clothes and  what they symbolise for this pair, together and individually. 

He was immaculate, as always, with his perfectly styled hair and sharp black suit. For all his talk of frivolity, he knew exactly how to present himself. It was something they’d bonded over. - RoW, 64

Wit and Jasnah have bonded over the idea of presentation and the effects it can create. Both of them have used this idea to great effect multiple times in the series. Wit displays himself as a more appropriate form of an Alethi highprince at war - a crisp, tailored, military suit in a colour that makes him instantly and easily identifiable in a crowd. It’s part of his subtle mockery of those around him - that the King’s Wit is a better presented highprince than the REAL highprinces. It also makes him recognisable, and it makes him seem professional and able to move easily in high society. 

Equally, we’ve seen him take the guise of a poor beggar so as to sneak into Kholinar and go unnoticed and dismissed when he sneaks into the palace to recover Design in Oathbringer. 

Jasnah, meanwhile, gives a memorable and impactful speech to Shallan at the beginning of Words of Radiance about the illusion of perception. About how by presenting herself as a princess, looking the way others expect, she is able to effectively use her authority. And would be able to similarly do so if she simply convinced people she was a princess, by manipulating their perception of her.

Both Jasnah and Wit understand this idea - of presenting yourself, not necessarily in the way you want to look, but in the way you want others to look at you. Creating for them the thing you want them to see, which enables you to better be that thing. 

It also runs deeper than that. They’re not just people who like to dress well. They understand that this has a power to it. They understand the effect it will have over others. And it’s this deeper thing that I believe they’ve bonded over. 

Because they don’t simply appear put together in their clothes; they appear put together in their everything. Wit and Jasnah are people who are consistently calm and composed regardless of the situation. They do it in very different ways. Jasnah  with calculating stoicism and intellectual calm. Wit with indifferent frivolity and nonchalant acceptance of what’s happening around him. 

The core effect is the same. When the walls are crumbling down, the armies are sweeping in, and everything’s on fucking fire, Wit and Jasnah are two people you expect to be able to look to for direction and a bit of sanity amidst the chaos. 

They’ve both cultivated personalities and personas that revolve around appearing and seeming in control and unperturbed whatever is happening. It’s like their whole Thing. 

So the presentation is not only about clothes and make up, it’s about who they are deep down as people. The fact that they’re always the strong ones. Always the ones in control. Always the ones who aren’t panicking despite the fact that everything’s on fucking fire. 

They’re  people that others EXPECT to behave a certain way. There’s a predictability to them. A dependability. In Wit’s case, it’s that you can rely on him to be esoteric, confusing, and unpredictable, but still. 

There’s a pressure in that. There’s a pressure in always being THAT put together. In always being THAT on top of things. In always being THAT person who can never break down screaming when things go wrong because that’s not who they are and not what people expect. They have to be more than that. They have to be BETTER than that. 

They’re also people that other characters tend to other/deify. Shallan remarks several times about Jasnah being inhuman/beyond ordinary people, and even goes so far as to compare her to the divine, despite her being a heretic. 

Wit, meanwhile, gets asked if he’s a Herald, has that odd air of always knowing things that he shouldn’t, and being in places he shouldn’t at the right times. 

They’re both ‘positively’ outcast. And I don’t mean that in an overly posh English way and being positively outcast, darling. What I mean is that, instead of being shunted outside of the circle of normality, they’re both placed on pedestals above it. Which is a different sort of outcast, but comes with its own package of problems. 

And this brings us to: vulnerability. Because they’ve bonded over this presentation thing, but they’ve ALSO bonded over the fact that they’ve found someone they don’t have to do that around all the time. Someone they can let their guard down with and just be themselves. Someone they don’t have to present and perform for. Someone they can just be HUMAN with. 

So we’re going to look more closely at the clothing aspect of this. Because there’s symbolism here, and it deeply interests me. With a focus on Jasnah, because Wit’s a mystery by design, and Jasnah’s got some more intentional stuff going on here I feel, re narrative symbolism. 

So from the moment we’re introduced to her, Jasnah always looks immaculate. She always looks perfectly put together. Shallan remarks multiple times on her havah, on her make up, on the intricate and perfectly done braids of her hair. Which is a little bit gay on Shallan’s part (which is valid) but it’s also significant, symbolically. 

I talked already about Jasnah’s idea of ‘power is an illusion of perception’, but I feel it’s worth coming back to. Both because of how much it shapes Shallan, but also how much it shapes Jasnah, and informs what we know about her. 

Jasnah is ALWAYS put together. She is ALWAYS perfectly made up, the absolute ideal of the perfect Alethi princess. Even in scenes of distress or ‘downtime’ scenes - such as waiting for Shallan in the hospital, or visiting her after her betrayal, or the relatively more relaxed setting being on board the Wind’s Pleasure. The text makes a point to note that Jasnah is perfectly done up and presenting exactly as she wishes. 

The times we see slips in that are DEEPLY interesting to me. 

The first one I want to look at, briefly, is That Controversial Scene in the way of kings, where Jasnah uses Soulcasting to kill the men who attacked her and Shallan in the alley. 

Just prior to this we see her bathing, where Shallan still remarks on how composed Jasnah is. This is also part of her presentation. She’s entirely naked, but that illusion is still up. She’s still more in control than other people are fully clothed. 

What I find interesting is the specific note that Jasnah does not take the time to have her hair braided before she sets out with Shallan. It’s mentioned as being unbound a few times. 

Symbolically, I like this, because I feel like it speaks to a slight loosening of her usual control. There’s something about that scenario that sets Jasnah on edge. There’s something about it that makes her feel. 

Besides, men like those…” There was something in her voice, an edge Shallan had never heard before.

What was done to you? Shallan wondered with horror. And who did it?

Shallan is unnerved because Jasnah seems calm. But I get the sense, from this line, and from the intense repetition of how unnaturally composed Jasnah appears, that her composure is a front. And that if we had her perspective on this scene, it would look very different from how Shallan imagines it. 

There’s something driving her here. Something beyond the logic she explains to Shallan, about making the city safer, about the guards not doing anything, about how innocent women will not be able to protect themselves from this, and how she wanted those men gone. All of which I believe is true, but that line from Shallan, and the way in which Jasnah goes about this...It feels personal. There’s something else going on behind the scenes that we don’t know or understand.

Regardless. This is the first time we see Jasnah step out of the cultured, reserved, stoic scholar. She’s something other than an ideal Alethi princess and studious mentor in this scene. And the detail of her hair being unbound, contained, wild, for the first time since we’ve met her feels..Significant. It’s an important detail to linger on, I think. 

Which brings us to the next exception to Jasnah’s exceptional presentation rule: her murder! 

Even in the scene before where we see Jasnah, arguably, the most vulnerable that we’ve seen her, in the cabin when Shallan confronts her about her fear of the upcoming apocalypse. It’s only a moment. Only a moment of genuine emotion that Shallan manages to glimpse before the mask comes back. 

This was not the Jasnah that Shallan was accustomed to seeing. The confidence had been overwhelmed by exhaustion, the poise replaced by worry. Jasnah started to write something, but stopped after just a few words. She set down the pen, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. A few dizzy-looking spren, like jets of dust rising into the air, appeared around Jasnah’s head. Exhaustionspren.

Shallan pulled back, suddenly feeling as if she’d intruded upon an intimate moment. Jasnah with her defenses down. Shallan began to creep away, but a voice from the floor suddenly said, “Truth!”

Startled, Jasnah looked up, eyes finding Shallan—who, of course, blushed furiously.

Jasnah turned her eyes down toward Pattern on the floor, then reset her mask, sitting up with proper posture. “Yes, child?”

The text notes in this segment that Jasnah’s poise and presentation is a mask, but it also describes it as her ‘defenses’. This is her armour. It stops people looking too close. It stops them reading her emotion, her weaknesses. This is also one of very few times we see Jasnah attracting spren in the series. 

However, even in this scene, clearly exhausted, overworked, and overwhelmed, Jasnah remains perfectly put together. All of her armour, her immaculate  havah, her make-up, her braids, are all in place. Even in this moment. 

Which makes a stark contrast to the next scene we find her in where she’s dressed only in a “thin nightgown”, and is lying on the floor with a sword in her chest. The vulnerability of unexpected assassination. 

When next we see Jasnah, in the epilogue, is when she’s freshly spat out of Shadesmar after an apparently harrowing ordeal. 

Her clothing was ragged, her hair formed into a single utilitarian braid, her face lashed with burns. She’d once worn a fine dress, but that was tattered. She’d hemmed it at the knees and had sewn herself a glove out of something improvised. Curiously, she wore a kind of leather bandolier and a backpack. He doubted she’d had either one when her journey had begun.

Even in another plane, apparently being hounded and in fear of her life, she’s managed to acquire some appropriate clothing, a glove, and a damn bandolier. Because of course she has. Perception. Iconic. 

After that we don’t see her out of anything beyond her famous havah-braids-make up combo. Even when she’s with her family, and Navani remarks in her setting down the mask of the queen, she remains masked. There are still defences up. She never fully lets her family in on her plans, or her thoughts and fears. 

No, the next time we see her symbolically, and emotionally, vulnerable: is with Wit. Perhaps for the first time, fully, without ANY of her usual masks and pretences, and under her own steam and of her own volition. 

Locked away in a central room on the second level—sharing no walls with the outside, alone save for Wit’s company—she could finally let herself relax.

She DELIBERATELY picks a house with a second floor, and an interior  room with no outside walls, with multiple fabrial traps to warn of assassins or intruders. But she manages to relax in  Wit’s company. There’s a trust there. An understanding. A much needed vulnerability. 

Clothing wise, in this scene Jasnah is dressed only in a nightgown and a dressing gown, and is carefully noted to have her safehand uncovered. Jasnah isn’t Vorin, strictly speaking, but she’s still been raised her entire life in a society that views safehands as something inherently sexual/to be hidden. So much so that she takes the time and care to sew herself a safehand glove while in Shadesmar. So all of this is a fairly Big Deal. It’s a Big Deal for anyone. For Jasnah? More miraculous than Kaladin giggling. 

Jasnah Kholin is not vulnerable. Jasnah Kholin is never unguarded. Jasnah Kholin never willingly lets her guard down. Jasnah Kholin is absolutely as paranoid as Elhokar, if not more so. 

She’s made herself a BUNKER at this point. She’s in an interior room, surrounded by traps, there’s spheres sewn into her dressing gown, and she has a wholeass BOAT waiting for her in Shadesmar JUST IN CASE someone manages to get through: guards, an entire BUILDING, multiple rigged traps, then her, with her plate, her blade, her Soulcasting ability, and all of her wit and skill, to somehow manage to wound her badly enough that she has to retreat to Shadesmar. 

This woman does not do trust. She does not do vulnerability. To the point that it is absolutely 1000000% a fault. This IS Jasnah’s greatest flaw. Her isolation. Her mistrust. Her paranoia. 

Anyone that comes into her life she’s suspicious of. She blithely warns Shallan about Kabsal stating he’s only using her to get close to Jasnah to steal from her/kill her. 

We dismiss this, and look at it as brilliance/Jasnah knowing all, because she’s right. But it’s flawed brilliance. Because it’s the ‘broken clock’ fallacy, you know? If you suspect EVERYONE around you of being an assassin...Well, some of them will be. 

Jasnah’s paranoia is another meta, however. But the point here is that: Jasnah doesn’t do anything by halves. She has an ideal for how she wants to live her life and she COMMITS to it. And part of that is her presentation, and the perception she projects, to an unhealthy degree, even around trusted family. 

So the fact she has found someone she can relax all of her INCREDIBLY strict and overzealous masking and enforced personal presentation? Is both very significant in terms of her relationship with Wit, but also herSELF? 

Because Jasnah NEEDS this. She needs it like Kaladin needs therapy yesterday. 

Jasnah is a “strong independent woman” but if you double down on that idea, and follow it up with “Jasnah is a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a man/anyone” then you are absolutely 1000% missing the whole entire point of her character. 

All the Stormlight characters are deconstructions of classical fantasy tropes, to varying extents. 

Jasnah is the ‘strong independent woman’ trope except asking what if you ACTUALLY apply that to an actual human person? What would that do to them? How would that hurt them? And what it does is everything Jasnah is.

Which has been done so MASTERFULLY because we look at all of these flaws, and these objectively negative things that she does to cope with having this label slapped onto her, and we golf clap quietly in a corner and go ‘wow that’s so badass, that’s so cool, let’s totally romantacise all of these actually deeply worrying coping mechanisms and not look at them at all until Brandon smashes us in the face with them like a baseball bat with the nails of Jasnah’s trauma pounded into it’. 

Okay maybe that was SLIGHTLY dramatic. But my point is: Jasnah’s apparent omniscience can also be looked at as extreme paranoia and mistrust. 

Her independence and ability to ‘get shit done’ on her own, to the point she doesn’t tell another living soul about the LITERAL APOCALYPSE for more than HALF A DECADE is actually self-inflicted dangerous isolation. 

Her constantly being poised, and on her game, and never displaying any emotion is actually extreme repression, to the point her own MOTHER describes her as ‘having the empathy of a corpse’. 

Her consistent othering by all of the other characters, from her ward to her mother, deifying her, and othering her, and considering her immortal is actually putting her on a pedestal and cramming an INCREDIBLE amount of pressure to reach an impossible, unattainable, and inhuman level of perfection that becomes so normalised and commonplace that her return from the dead is just like ‘well yeah that’s just Jasnah’. 

And all of these things are INCREDIBLY unhealthy!!! They’re not something any real person should have to do just to exist. Especially not in the middle of an apocalypse. When her father was killed in front of her. And then her brother was murdered. And the apocalypse she tried to warn everyone about is happening. And she’s the most experienced Radiant. And she’s also suddenly a queen of her kingdom. Which has been taken over by the enemy btw. And they’re in the middle of a war. And people are dying. And she’s responsible for those people dying. But also some of her highprinces are treacherous bastards. And oh look here’s a couple of slightly mad Heralds she’s taken charge of and- OH MY GOD PLEASE LET HER NAP!? 

Again. Slight hyperbole on my end but I feel like I’m #Justified. The point is, her suddenly, after FOUR books, having a single person that she can confide in, and be vulnerable with, and admit she’s afraid, and uncertain, and doesn’t know what she’s doing, and isn’t sure she can actually do this, is not ~anti-feminist~ and it’s not “out of character” and it’s not damaging her ideal it’s actually deeply positive, and healthy, and a symptom of Character Growth. 

Jasnah’s is choosing Wit. With her eyes wide open. And she has some reservations about things, because she’s JASNAH, of course she does. But she listens to him. She confides in him. She lets him see HER. She lets him help HER. She admits that she needs that help. She actually says to him, out loud, with full human words, to his face, right in front of him, that she’s frightened. SHE ADMITS THIS!!! Jasnah’s having all this stealth background character development that y’all are sleeping on but I am personally deeply hype about. 

And it’s because Wit UNDERSTANDS her. And she understands him. And this is really the crux and core of this whole relationship for me, you know? This whole idea around them always being The Strong One. and finally FINALLY (for him, too) having someone that they don’t have to be strong for. Or regal. Or composed. Or poised. Or in control. Or even knowing what the fuck they’re doing. 

She can just...Be. She can ask questions. And show uncertainty. And admit to fear. And to doubt, of herself, of the other Radiants, of humanity in general. And have someone to look to, when everyone is ALWAYS looking at her. 

It’s the beginning of an actual support system. Because she needs this SO badly. Because she has her family but she also...Doesn’t have her family? She looks after them. She protects them. From assassins, and then from what was happening in the world/her role in it. Because there’s that line in Oathbringer that she has, about people loving her but still hurting her. 

Navani mentions that after she hit adolescence (and after her parents locked her in a dark room and let her scream herself hoarse because they called her mad, lol) she withdrew. And she no longer asked questions. And she no longer wanted a mother, or a support figure, or someone to take care of her. She rejected all notions of that. Because there was something broken there. That trust was gone. And Jasnah will set aside the crown, and the mask of the queen around her family, but she is only fully vulnerable, and fully HERSELF with Wit. 

And I cannot understate (i feel like I’m doing a Good Job of not understating this here people) how absolutely fucking ESSENTIAL that is. 

Jasnah is NOT a machine. She is not a divine being beyond trauma and pain. She is a human being who has suffered, and who has responses to this. 

Jasnah accepting Wit’s support and companionship is as big a step in processing and healing from her trauma as Kaladin accepting he can’t protect everyone and does not deserve to always carry that guilt. 

I don’t care if you don’t like the ship. I don’t care if you think it was rushed (there was...a year long time skip. Things did not remain in stasis. Things changed. This is an interesting narrative device bringing us into them and letting us extrapolate backwards). I don’t care if you hate the bones of Hoid and never want to see him on screen: I DON’T CARE. 

If you have any respect and regard for Jasnah as a character I need you to acknowledge that this relationship is a positive and healthy thing for her. I need you to see that it’s a step forwards. I need you to see that, from a purely narrative standpoint: this is a thing that should be celebrated for her. 

In terms of Wit, too, this is a good thing. I am not about one-sided relationships where only one person is getting something out of it. Even when that one person is the light of my life Jasnah Kholin who deserves all the things ever. 

For all his talk of frivolity, he knew exactly how to present himself. It was something they’d bonded over.

Coming back to this RoW quote let me make things as abundantly clear as possible re why I’ve bonded over this ship: They’re kindred spirits. They understand each other. In a way that no-one else has understood them for Jasnah possibly ever, for Wit in a very very very very very very very very very long time. 

They’re both brilliant. They’re both intellectually at the pinnacle of humanity. They both know that. They’re also both damaged. They both  cover up that damage with a carefully crafted presentation. Jasnah’s is regal composure and Wit’s flamboyant nonchalance, but it’s a mask in both cases. 

They understand each other. And they understand the need to have what they’ve found in one another: someone they don’t have to be that way around. Someone they can just be with. Someone who understands why they have to be that way with everyone else; but can give them the freedom to be themselves. 

Such parallel. Much power. Very choice. 

I was gonna talk about Other Stuff in this meta but lol. 4k words of clothes screaming later and I feel like maybe this should be part 1 of an ongoing saga. Ahem. 

The take away from this is: I totally understand why Brandon put these two characters together. For the amount of characters he has, he actually has relatively few romantic relationships. None of them are done on a whim, and they’re always healthy, mutual, and positive for both characters. They make sense, in short. 

And these two as a pairing makes sense. On more than a “”””business transaction””””” level of them wanting and getting information out of one another. It makes sense even if there was no Desolation, and no threat to the world, and they were two randomers who met in a tavern and connected. 

There’s a personal connection there. There’s an intimacy, and an understanding, and a sense of looking into another person’s eyes and saying ‘yes. You know. You feel it too’. They go through life in much the same way - standing out, never quite fitting, never finding anyone on their level that can relate to them or compete with them or challenge them. 

They have someone who can fulfil them. Someone who can actually meet and exceed their abilities for once. But equally someone who can ground them, and meet them at their lowest point, and allow and even encourage that vulnerability. 

TL;DR: this relationship is positive for both characters, and healthy, and important for both and this is a hill I WILL fucking die upon. Just watch me. 

More metas to follow. Bc I have more to say. Not as long as this one, in all likelihood, bc I feel like this is the Lynchpin argument for this pair. But still. More to say.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Eunoia - Harry Styles

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write a piece filled with just fluffy, domestic moments through a relationship, and that’s when i created Flora in my mind. wrote it with an OC bc i had very specific traits and stuff in my mind about her and it didn’t feel right to write it with y/n but feel free to read however you’d like it! but i think Flora is a delightful girl, she is a teacher and a free spirit, i think you’ll like her!

pairing: Harry x OC (Floortje ‘Flora’ Hoven)

word count: 9.5k

masterlist

Eunoia (n.) Beautiful thinking: a well mind.

Harry is always looking forward to times when his days aren’t filled from morning to midnight, traveling all around the world, meeting dozens of new people at various new meetings. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the buzz his life comes with, but one can drive this lifestyle only for a while before getting tired. He now appreciates his calm periods, when he is not living out of his suitcase, he has the time to drop by a café and enjoy his morning coffee sitting down instead of grabbing it in a go-to cup and chugging it down in his car. When he can just take a walk when the weather is nice enough and his favorite is when he has the time to just look at things without a rush and appreciate them.

He has built up a habit of going to the same coffee place since he got off tour and jumped right into his well-deserved months off filled with meditation, resting and focusing on himself after giving so much for the world. It’s just two corners down his place, falling perfectly into his way to the gym and now he even has a favorite table in the corner, because it gives him a great view of the place but the vines hanging from the ceiling masks his presence enough that people don’t often notice him there, providing some privacy for his morning coffee.

It was his third day here when he first noticed her. She was sitting at the table by the window, near the door, deep in a book, another pile waiting for her on the free seat next to her as she intensely made notes of her reading. She had her wild, curly hair in a puffy bun on the top of her head, clearly just thrown into it haphazardly when she started working. Her ivory frame glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose and thy seemed a bit too big for her face, but they overall fit perfectly with her knitted sweater and dungarees. And Harry couldn’t look over the fact that she had little sunflowers painted on her nails. That instantly made him smile as he adorned her from afar.

As the days passed and Harry spent almost all his morning at the same spot, he started seeing or more like noticing her more often. She always sat at the same table and Harry figured it was because of the natural lighting coming through the windows that came in handy, because she was always either reading and making notes, or doing something crafty, mostly origami, he noticed. She often had her laptop open with tutorials on different origami works that she was trying to make herself, not always succeeding, but she got it right most of the time, a triumphant smile plastering across her face every time she finished a piece, her dimples digging deep into her round cheeks. Harry couldn’t stop herself from smiling whenever she held up the finished work and adorned what she just created. He often wondered what happened to the little creations afterwards, but she just usually shoved them into her backpack before leaving.

By the fifth or sixth time he has seen her, he already knew her order. Vanilla latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Large sized, of course, so she has something to sip on while she typed away on her laptop or finished reading another book.

Harry caught himself looking for her on mornings when he didn’t see her, which were usually Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, but one Wednesday, when he had an early meeting for a change with his team, he arrived before 8 am into the place and for his biggest surprise, there she was, sitting at her usual table, drinking the same drink as always. Later, Harry found himself coming earlier on those days just to find her there yet again and he figured her work schedule must start earlier on those days.

As the days went by Harry started to play with the thought of walking up to her. He wondered if she has noticed him as well, but it seemed like even if she did, his presence didn’t impress or bother her at all which just irked his curiosity about her even more. But every time he thought about finally talking to her, he decided against it, feeling like he would just be an intruder in her morning sessions. Until one day, the chance was handed to him on a silver plate.

She is doing origami once again on this particular day, making little cranes, one after the other, using different colored papers to make them form out a mess rainbow on her table. It’s a quiet morning, only a few more people sitting around at place. It’s been quite windy the past couple of days and today seems to be the worst, the trees are being tossed around by the howling winds outside, but it just makes it even cozier to sit inside in the warmth, enjoying a nice hot drink.

Harry finds himself watching her intently as her delicate fingers work on the paper, one crane following the other, she is starting to have a whole army of them.

An older man walks into the café and as he opens the door wide, the wind is quick to run into the place, knocking over everything that’s not heavy enough to stay still and the paper cranes are the first ones to start flying off the table.

“No! Darn it!” she gasps, her hands grabbing after them, saving just a few, but most end up on the floor, somersaulting away from her table. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and come to her rescue, lending her a pair of helping hands as she gathers her creations. “Oh, thank you!” she breathes out softly, her eyes meeting his and for his biggest surprise… she doesn’t seem to be stunned or even surprised by him, as if she doesn’t know who he is.

Maybe she doesn’t, it’s a possibility, he tells himself, smiling at her as he collects the cranes from the floor.

“Guess they wanted to be free,” he jokes, setting them on the table with the rest.

“It wasn’t my brightest idea to do it on such a windy day near the door,” she chuckles, looking over the bunch she’s been working on for the past thirty minutes.

“May I ask why you need so many paper cranes?” Harry inquires, leaving out the part that he’s been watching her do her origami for weeks now.

“Oh, I want to make decorations out of them, hang them up in my classroom. I’m a teacher,” she adds smiling.

That’s the most fitting job he could ever imagine for her, she is definitely the cool and adored teacher every kid is obsessed with.

“Wow, and how many do you need?” he asks, the stack of paper at the edge of the table looks quite a lot and he wonders if she wants to use them all for the cranes.

“Well, as many as I can make before my fingers fall off,” she jokes. Harry notices her freckles from up close that have been hidden behind her glasses until now. Her hair is in two space buns today and she is wearing a striped shirt with light-washed jeans and colorful sneakers. The sunflowers are gone from her nails, replaced by tiny daisies, but Harry likes them just as much as the previous flowers. They fit her well.

“Do you… I would love to help, if you want,” he finds himself offering, not even thinking about the question before it slips his mouth.

“You sure?” she asks, seemingly surprised but she definitely doesn’t find it weird that he just offered to help her.

“Yeah. Looks really calming and I haven’t made one in so long. Want to see if I still remember the steps,” he smiles.

“Take a seat then,” she nods, returning his smile. Harry goes back to his table to grab his stuff and join her.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he introduces himself as he takes the empty chair at her table, holding out his hand for her that she gladly takes.

“Floortje, but everyone just calls me Flora,” she smiles.

“Never heard that name, what’s the origin of it?”

“It’s Dutch. My dad is Dutch, he came up with the name as well and my mother liked it. It means little flower, nothing grandiose,” she chuckles, reaching for another paper to start her next crane.

“Do you have a Dutch last name as well?” he asks, but then realizes she might not feel comfortable sharing her full name just yet. “You don’t have to tell me your last name though, if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” she chuckles. “It’s Hoven, which is Dutch, but you pronounce it pretty much the same as you’d if it was a simple English word, just with a softer V in the middle,” she explains, her fingers working easily and fast on the thin paper, the crane is already starting to form. Harry reaches for a paper himself and tries to recollect his memory of the steps.

“Were you born in the Netherlands too?”

“Yes, I was born in Eindhoven, but we moved here when I was five. But my Dutch is still just fine, luckily. My dad refused to talk to me in English when we moved, he said he won’t have his daughter forget her mother tongue just because he is getting paid more here,” she explains with a soft chuckle as she finishes up the crane, putting it to the pile.

“I always envied bilingual people. Must be great to speak two languages that easily,” Harry wonders, eyes fixed on the paper as he is trying his best with the crane. It’s slowly coming together, though it’s not as pretty as Flora’s.

“It’s not that fun when I suddenly forget a word in one of the languages and then spend twenty minutes trying to remember when I know for a fact I know the words, it’s just stuck on my tongue.”

Harry laughs, finishing up his creation, holding it up and Flora looks at it as well. It’s a little crooked and one of its wings is longer than the other, but overall, it’s a decent first one.

“You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, putting it to the others.

“What are you talking about? It looks great!” she smiles, taking it into her hand, looking at it from all angles, smiling widely as she places it back to its peers. “It’s a nice one, and after all, it’s not your job to make cranes, so you’re fine,” she jokes.

Harry reaches for another paper as he thinks about if she knows him. Does she know what his job really is? Not that he expects everyone to know him, but she seems his age and it’s been quite impossible for him to meet someone close in age to him and not know a thing about him.

“Yeah, origami is definitely not my job,” he hums and then adds: “You… know what my job is?”

Flora glances up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I know you or not?” she smirks, tilting her head to the side, and it’s already a giveaway that she is very much aware of who she is sitting at a table with.

“I know, it was lame,” he huffs awkwardly.

“No, it was alright. And to answer your question, I do know what your job is, Harry Styles,” she replies.

“Sorry for asking around about it, you just seemed so casual and unbothered when you saw me, I thought you have no idea who I am.”

“I’m a teacher, my job is to treat everyone the same, I take equality very seriously. I don’t want my kids to think I put any of them above the rest, but I do the same outside of school too. Or do you want me to gasp and stutter now that you are sitting here?” she teases him making him laugh.

“That’s not needed at all.”

They work on their cranes in a comfortable silence and just as Harry thought, it’s quite relaxing, his thoughts slowly clear out, only focusing on the little birds he is creating. Then he glances up at Flora and suddenly his thoughts are filled with her once again. Now is his chance with her, he doesn’t want to leave this café without at least asking for her number even when he knows that he will surely see her around, just like always.

“Can I ask you something?” he speaks up as they both keep folding the colorful papers.

“Of course.”

“I hope I won’t sound creepy or something, but I’ve seen you around a lot and noticed how much you read. Is that just your hobby or…?”

“First of all it’s not creepy that you have noticed me, it’s flattering, because I have noticed you as well,” she smiles, paying him a quick glance.

“Really? I had a feeling you haven’t even seen me.”

“I did, but I thought you come here for the same reason as I do; to have some peace for yourself.”

“Ah, I see,” Harry nods.

“But to answer your question, I’m working on my second degree.”

“Oh, what’s that about?”

“Special education, speech therapy to be exact,” she tells him and Harry is even more stunned by her. Education is already a field not many can handle and then there is Flora, who didn’t just take up on it, she jumped right into it, pursuing a second degree in special education, a hard and challenging part of this job.

“Any particular reason why you chose it?”

“I have a younger brother, he is ten years younger than me, so he was already born here, but he was taught Dutch too. However, it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me to speak two languages at the same time and he has developed some speech errors. Nothing major, but it was enough for him to be bullied in school. I saw his face every day when he came home and lied to our parents that everything is fine but then he cried to me in my room when they weren’t around. I don’t want any other kids to go through that, I’d love to be the one to not just help them come over their speech errors but also make sure they are treated the same way as everyone else.”

Harry hasn’t even noticed that he stopped working on his crane, he is now staring at her in awe, completely stunned by her. The more he learns about her the more he thinks she is a literal angel sent from above and that he can’t let her slip from his hands.

Flora looks up at him and finds him staring, a blush appearing on her full cheeks.

“Sorry for staring, but I just… this is so beautiful. Your passion about education is just one of a kind, truly. And the way how you made it your whole career and everything, I’m just… blown away,” he admits.

“Well, you made a career out of your passion too, didn’t you?” she chuckles softly.

“I did, but your story is just a little more touching,” he smirks. “Flora, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been meaning to come up to you for a while and now that we officially met, I just—I would love to take you out on a date and get to know you better.”

She blushes again and Harry notes how well the pinky shade fits her even if she probably wishes she could control it more.

“That would be lovely,” she smiles shyly and grabbing a crane from her pile she grabs a pen from her bag and writes her number to the wing of it before handing it over to Harry.

He loves that she could have easily just typed it into his phone, yet she chose to do it this way. He smiles down at the crane and puts it into his bag, securing it as if it was his biggest treasure.

When Flora opens her door for Harry she is still wearing her apron that’s filled with tulips, a pair of simple jeans underneath it with a bright yellow shirt. Harry smiles as he leans down and greets her with a soft kiss. Ever since their first kiss he has been obsessed with stealing one whenever he has the chance. Their first one was nothing grandiose, such a simple and mundane moment but for him, it was perfect. They were visiting a gallery, he chose the exhibition hoping she’ll be a fan of it since the theme was botany, all paintings connected to flowers, gardens and plants and he was right. Flora was stunned, fascinated by each painting as they stopped at one after the other, taking their time to adore the works. They were looking at a painted garden filled with colorful wildflowers around a small cottage in the distance. Flora’s eyes wandered over all the tiny details as Harry stood close to her. She then leaned closer to point out her favorite flower and once they realized just how close their faces were, he just easily closed the gap and kissed her softly, surrounded with art, but he was convinced she was his favorite masterpiece he has ever seen.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a little late, dinner is not ready yet,” she huffs letting him inside. “Had to stay at the school a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry. Can I help with anything?” he asks following her into the kitchen, putting the bottle of wine he brought into the fridge to keep it cool until dinner.

“No, it’s fine. I just need about fifteen minutes to finish up the veggies,” she smiles at him and tiptoeing she steals a quick kiss. Harry hasn’t been the only one obsessed with kisses. “Make yourself home.”

Harry leaves to use the bathroom quickly and on his way back he finds himself wandering into her bedroom. He has been in her home just a few times before, only spending short minutes here when he was picking her up but now he has time to actually look around, hoping she won’t mind him snooping around.

Her whole place is just as colorful as she is always, each piece of furniture a different style and color, yet fitting so well when you see it as a whole. The quilted patchwork blanket over her bed is definitely homemade, each patch has a different flower on it while the left lower corner has Floortje embroidered into it. Harry wonders if it was made by a friend or family member, either way, it’s surely a special piece.

Her dresser is cluttered with rings, perfumes and endless amount of hair ties. She has complained before that her hair stretches her elastics out so fast, she keeps buying new ones every month. The little armchair in the corner is covered with a few of her used clothes, ones she’ll wear once more before putting them into the laundry basket.

As he walks over to her nightstand that’s filled with books, at least seven piled on each other, his eyes stop over something that makes his heart flutter.

A crooked little paper crane is sitting on the edge of the nightstand, the one he made the first time they talked, to be exact. Harry takes the bird and looks at it in awe, surprised that she kept it to herself. However he doesn’t find it odd, not even a little bit, since he has also kept the one she wrote her phone number onto, it’s sitting on his desk in his study.

“Found something interesting?” Flora walks in and Harry’s head whips towards her, feeling like he was just caught. But the warm smile on her lips is a telltale sign that she doesn’t mind him looking around.

“You kept it,” he states matter-of-factly, holding up the paper bird.

“Of course I did,” she nods, walking closer. “It’s a special one.”

“Thought you treat everyone and everything the same,” he teases smiling as he puts the crane back, his hands finding her waist.

“I guess there are a few exceptions,” she smirks slyly, her hands running up on his arms until they reach the base of his neck.

“Am I an exception?” The corners of his mouth curl up as he places the bird back on her nightstand and circle his arms around her waist.

“Did I say that?” she teases him. “I think I called your work a special one.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, pretending to be hurt at her words, but he can’t push the growing smile back from his lips. They’ve been seeing each other for only over a month, but it was enough time to make him completely hooked on her. He is amazed by her in every possible way, feeling like he could never get enough of the ray of sunshine that Flora is. His favorite thing is that she makes him feel so normal, just an average guy dating a girl he met at a café. Not once did she treat him any different because of what he is and it’s just the feeling Harry has been looking for for such a long time.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she smiles, pecking his lips before peeling his arms off of her frame, taking his hand as she pulls him out of the bedroom, however they surely end up in there again sometime after dinner, but with way less clothes on.

Harry watches as Flora plays with the bubbles in front of her, picking some foam up into her hair, watching it move around on her wet palm before blowing on it gently, her delicate fingers poking at the small bubbles that escaped from it. His hands are caressing her sides under the warm water that was once hot when they first got into it about an hour ago.

It’s been a lazy Sunday, Flora arrived early in the morning and went plant shopping. Her home has always been filled with plants and Harry has grown a liking to all the greenery, wanted some more in his house as well and Flora was more than happy to help him pick out the ones that are the easiest to take care of. Then they cooked lunch together, watched a movie and cleaned up the mess they made in the kitchen before running the bath. Harry has been loving these domestic days, lounging around his or her home, wearing comfy clothes and not caring about much of the outside words, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Remind me to buy peanut butter the next time I’m going grocery shopping,” she speaks up, leaning further back against his chest while Harry rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist under the layer of bubbles.

“What do you need it for?” he hums, nudging her hair with his nose, her curls ticking his face, but he doesn’t mint it.

“I want to make cupcakes for the kids next week.”

“What for? Is there gonna be a special occasion?”

“No, they’ve just been super nice lately, we set up some new rules in the classroom and they’ve been really good following them.” Harry hums, loving how she is so eager to treat her students, he is convinced she is easily the best teacher he has ever came across.

“So peanut butter, huh? I think I need some too. Been dying to eat a good burger with some peanut butter.”

“I cannot believe you put peanut butter into your burgers,” she chuckles, peeking at him over her shoulder.

“Don’t bash it when you haven’t even tried!” he defends himself, kissing her cheek softly.

“The Aztecs would be so disappointed,” she sighs turning back forward, so she doesn’t see the puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“The Aztecs?”

“Yeah, they technically invented peanut butter,” she nods, as if it was common knowledge.

“Do I want to know why you know this about the history of peanut butter?” he chuckles softly.

“Well I had this kid last year who was obsessed with it and I started looking up fun facts for him for mornings when he looked a little moody. Then the others started enjoying it too so it became our morning thing that I told them a fun fact about anything.”

“Oh really? Tell me one then!” he asks smirking, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Okay, um…” she thinks to herself. “Do you know what the Olympic rings stand for?”

“I do not,” he shakes his head.

“The five rings stand for the five inhabited continents of the world, united by Olympism.”

“Sounds logical,” Harry nods. “Tell me another one,” he asks.

“Are you going to make me tell you all my fun facts?” she chuckles, turning a little so she can look into his beautiful green eyes.

“Maybe. I like it when you talk like this,” he smirks playfully.

“Like what?”

“Like… smart. I love how you know all these little things about the world and teach it to not just the kids but to me as well.”

“You don’t think I’m a smartass?”

“Why would I?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“I used to be picked on in middle school because I liked to learn, more than what was required.”

“That doesn’t make you a smartass, baby. You don’t go around, correcting every tiny mistake around you. You use your knowledge to educate, like you should.”

Flora smiles softly at him, his words bringing the sense of reassurance she’s been seeking for so long. She pecks his lips shortly before turning back forward.

“Do you know how many days a billion seconds make up?” she asks, smiling to herself.

“I don’t.”

“11 574 days. That’s a little over 31 years.”

“So I haven’t lived a billion seconds in my life just yet,” Harry states, doing the quick math.

“No, you haven’t,” she smiles, mostly at the fact that he didn’t just listen to her little fun fact, but also thought about it a bit deeper.

They stay in the bath until the water gets cold and Harry keeps asking for fun facts and Flora gladly tells him whatever comes to her mind.

Harry finishes up the fresh salad, filled with Flora’s favorites: cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and corn with some kale, baby spinach and garlic dressing. He even sprinkled some sesame seeds on top, now he is pretty proud of his work, it looks like something influencers would snap in an aesthetic photo to their Instagram feed.

His bare feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to Flora’s bedroom where she is still curled up on her chair in front of her computer, her hair in a mess on top of her head, glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. She hasn’t moved much from the spot in hours, intensely working on her thesis that should be finalized within the next two weeks. She has been gradually working on it over the last few months, in no mean she is behind, but she’s been extra nervous about making it as good as she wanted it when she started and Harry has been nothing but supporting about it, knowing how much it means to her. So he’s been her moral support, making sure she eats, gets some rest and doesn’t get herself too worked up about her research. She appreciates his efforts and though she often feels bad for neglecting him lately, he made sure to assure her, he’ll be right here when she is finally done with it.

Harry walks around the mountain of books on the floor she has piled up from the library these past two weeks as he walks up behind her while her fingers type away on her computer so fast he can barely believe she even understands what she’s typing.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, leaning down he kisses her cheek, holding the bowl of salad in front of her, drabbing her attention, making her gaze move from the screen to the food in front of her.

“Oh, hey! Is this for me?” she asks with a soft smile, lifting her head so she can look at him. Even with the circles under her eyes, the messy hair and worn out t-shirt that she’s wearing, he thinks she is the most wonderful creature he has ever seen.

“Yeah. Come take a break, yea?”

She doesn’t protest, just saves the file before moving away from the desk to the bed along with Harry. She props herself up against the headboard, a tired moan escaping her lips as her spine rests against the pillows under her back. Harry hands her the salad and she digs right into it, only just now realizing that she’s been feeling hungry for the past two hours, but ignored it entirely.

“How much do you have left?” Harry asks nodding towards the computer.

“I’m finishing up the last part, then I just have to write the abstract and then…” she explains, popping a tomato in her mouth. “It’s just gonna be the formatting. I think I’ll be done by Wednesday.”

“That’s great,” he smiles proudly. He has always admired how hardworking she’s been when it came to school and her profession. He could never imagine himself do the same, especially because he didn’t even finish high school. He used to feel a little self-conscious about it when they first started dating, afraid that she might think less of him because he didn’t finish his education properly, even though it was never something that bothered him. But Flora assured him that it makes absolutely no difference in her opinion about him.

“It’s not about the papers or how many schools you’ve finished. It’s about how you see the world and if you are willing to learn when it changes around you. And I think you are perfect in that department, your curiosity and openness makes you an excellent learner,” she told him without even thinking about it.

Harry lies on his side next to her, one hand propping his head up while the other one wanders to her thigh, massaging it gently. She hums to herself, enjoying the food he made and he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He loves taking care of her, especially because most of the times it’s her that takes care of him. Cooking for him after a long day at the studio, putting his laundry away while he is in an online meeting or writing him a list for when he goes grocery shopping, Flora has been watching out for him through these little things, but now it’s finally his turn to give it all back.

He’s been thinking about asking her to move in with him for a few weeks now, he just hasn’t been brave enough to bring it up, thinking that she might find it too early for such a big step, seeing that the two of them have been dating for a little over nine months. He’s been playing with the thought of coming home to her every single day, waking up next to her in the mornings, watch her form his home more to her liking, creating a space for the both of them, making it a home not just for him but her as well.

As she finishes up her salad, completely oblivious to what Harry is thinking about, he decides to bring it up once she is done with her thesis, not wanting to bother her in any possible way until she is finished.

“Mm, this was lifesaving, thank you,” she sighs, leaning over she kisses him softly as her appreciation for the sweet gesture. “I’ll finish up this one paragraph I’m in the middle of and then we could watch a movie. But strictly without subs, because I’m done with words for today,” she jokes, making him laugh as he takes the empty bowl from her hands.

“Sounds good,” he nods. “I’ll clean up in the kitchen and find something to watch while you finish.”

“Thank you.” As they both get up from the bed, she pulls him down for another kiss, Harry’s free hand finding the small of her back right away. “I love you,” she whispers against his lips, his heart fluttering in his chest at the words he has heard before, but it never fails to stun him.

“I love you too. Now go, finish it so we can cuddle,” he smiles, smacking her bum gently before they let go of each other.

“Ja, pappa. Dat klinkt fantastisch. Ik zal het hem vragen. Ja.” Yes, dad. That sounds fantastic. I’ll ask him. Yes.

Harry listens to Flora talk to her father on the phone as she applies her lip balm, the one she uses every night before going to bed. He loves it when she talks in Dutch, many tend to criticize the language, but not Harry. Or maybe it’s just because he only hears Flora talk it and he loves everything she does.

“Ja, dat is goed. Dank je. Tot ziens, pappa, ik hou van je!” Yes, that’s great. Thank you. See you soon, dad, love you!

She ends the call and switches the light off in the bathroom that’s been not just Harry’s but hers since she officially moved in with him just last week. Harry finally built up the courage to ask her opinion about the possibility of living together in the near future once she was free from the worries of her research and thesis. For his biggest surprise, she was on the exact same page as him, definitely a fan of the idea. So three weeks later they started slowly moving all her stuff over to his until her apartment completely emptied out. Now all her belongings are splattered across Harry’s home, they haven’t found the perfect place for everything just yet, but it’s slowly starting to feel like home for the both of them.

“Dad called, asked if we would go over for dinner this weekend,” she tells him, moving around the bedroom as she takes her little hoop earrings off, placing them in the shell she uses as a jewelry holder on top of the dresser. She is wearing a pair of yellow sweatpants with one of Harry’s shirts, nothing underneath them, just how Harry loves it.

“It’s cute how you always tell me it was your dad, but he is the only one you speak Dutch with,” he chuckles lowly as she climbs to bed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

“It comes so naturally, I don’t even realize I’m switching languages,” she admits smiling.

“Dinner sounds lovely,” he nods, getting back to what she was talking about before.

“Arnold is bringing his girlfriend too,” she smirks, her eyes sparkling from excitement.

“Your brother has a girlfriend now?” he hums, eyebrows rising at the new information.

“It’s the girl I saw him with at his basketball game last month. They made it official like two weeks ago.”

“And he is already bringing her home? He is not beating around the bush,” he chuckles. “Is it going to be the first time the girl meets your parents?”

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be exciting,” she nods, cuddling to his side.

Flora is playing with the little cross pendant on Harry’s chest and he is watching her delicate fingers flipping it over, her fingertips tickling his chest a little in the process.

“When we have kids, will you also teach them Dutch?” he suddenly questions, the words just blurting out of his mouth. Flora lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks into his curious eyes. She stays silent, but a small smile is tugging on her lips for sure.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little nervous. It’s the first time he is bringing having kids up, but he definitely has been thinking about it, especially since she has moved in. They haven’t been dating for that long, but Harry is one hundred percent sure he is in the long run with her.

“I just… love how you said when and not if.”

“Well, it’s a question of when for me. What about you?”

“Same goes for me,” she smiles warmly. “And yes, I do want my children to speak Dutch. It’s important to my family and me as well. How does that sit with you?”

“Totally fine. In fact, I always envied kids growing up who were taught another language so early in their childhood. Would love that for my kids as well.”

“Dan is het geregeld,” she smiles widely at him.

“What’s that mean?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“I said that, then it’s settled. We’ll have some cute, bilingual babies,” she chuckles, half jokingly, half seriously.

Today has just been one of those days that were doomed from the moment Harry opened his eyes. He has been overwhelmed with stress lately, working on new music, but his studio sessions haven’t been as successful as he wanted them. He is also flying out to LA for two weeks in just a couple of days and he has to miss Flora’s mom’s birthday this weekend, which has been torturing him with guilt ever since he found out he can’t push his trip back.

This morning it felt like the universe just plotted against him. He slipped in the shower, broke a glass in the kitchen and successfully ripped one of his favorite jeans when he was getting dressed. He had a one way ticket cranky city, turning Harry into a moody little child. It didn’t take him long until he started a fight with Flora over the smallest, most ridiculous thing. It started with how Flora misplaced a bowl in the cabinet and took him two moments longer to find it than usual, then they ended up disputing about every little thing about each other they’ve been finding annoying, but neither of them voiced their feelings about them.

Flora, on the other hand, was not in the mood to argue with Harry so early on a Tuesday morning and she chose to just walk away and let him stew in his own anger. Harry knew the moment he heard the front door shut that she was mad at him: she didn’t kiss him goodbye like she does every day before she leaves.

He took a cold shower to cool him down and clear his head, get his thoughts straight so he can apologize like she deserves. Getting into his car he drives to the florist he usually goes to when he needs flowers for whatever occasions. The old lady greets him with a warm smile and upon describing what he envisioned, she immediately knows what to create for him this time. The result is a giant, colorful bouquet that reminds him of Flora in every possible means.

Driving down to her school he is met with an extreme amount of nostalgia even though it’s not even the school he went to as a kid, but it still brings back some memories.

The security guard immediately stops him when he walks into the building, but once he has explained him the situation, the old guy gladly tells him which classroom is hers so he can go and surprise her. His footsteps echo in the empty hallways as it is the middle of the second period, all students are locked up in their classrooms, lucky for Harry, because he surely can’t deal with teenage girls recognizing him right now. Holding the flowers in one hand he stops when he finds room 414 and he can hear Flora’s voice coming from inside, enthusiastically explaining something about penguins and it makes Harry smile.

Even with such a horrible morning behind her, she is still giving one hundred for her students. He brings up his hand and softly knocks on the door, interrupting her speech.

“Come in!” she calls out and Harry opens the door, popping his head inside first, then holding up the bouquet of flowers, making the kids start chattering in excitement at his arrival while Flora is staring at him shocked.

“Miss Hoven, do you have a moment for me, please?” he asks with a shy but charming smile. She quickly gains back control over her features before turning to her class.

“Please start working on task two and five, I’ll be right back,” she orders, but the chatter doesn’t die down so she raises her voice at them. “This is not how we act when we have guests, guys!”

The kids are quick to quiet themselves, eyes curiously switching between their teacher and the intruder at the door.

“Miss Hoven, is this your husband?” one of the kids, a little blond boy asks.

“No, Michael, he is not. Harry is my boyfriend,” she answers calmly, heading towards the door.

“Wait, I know him!” a girl exclaims gasping. “He sings the watermelon song!”

“Lilian, no discussion now. Do the tasks!” Flora tells her before walking out, but keeping the door open so she can hear what’s happening inside. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes wide when she finally looks at Harry again. “What’s—What’s this?”

“These are for you,” he clears his throat, handing her the bouquet. “And I came here to apologize for being such an arsehole this morning. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been crankier lately and I took it all out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Flora’s eyes soften on him as she takes one of his hands with her free one, giving it a squeeze.

“I said some nasty stuff too, so I guess I’m sorry too,” she sighs, her anger and frustration from earlier now long gone.

“I brought that out of you, so I’ll take the blame,” Harry chuckles softly. “But the point is that I’m sorry.”

“Well, you are forgiven. You were even before you came here,” she assures him smiling warmly. “Why don’t we order something tonight and just get lazy on the couch?”

“You said you have some tests to go through.”

“That can wait. You’re leaving in two days so I want to spend time with you.”

“So we won’t get our tests back tomorrow?” they both hear a muffled voice coming from inside and Flora chuckles shaking her head as she opens the door wider and steps inside. A small group of kids run back to their seats, but not fast enough to not get caught.

“Lilian, would you mind telling me why you left your seat without permission?” Flora questions the girl who just rolls her lips into her mouth, pretending like she hasn’t even moved all along. Flora sighs stepping outside once again. “I gotta go now, but thank you for this. They look beautiful,” she tells Harry.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leaning down he kisses her quickly, feeling like he is breaking rules even though he is not a student or a teacher here.

“I love you too,” she smiles back before walking back inside and shutting the door. Harry stays for a minute, just out of curiosity to hear if the kids ask her some more questions about him.

“Miss Hoven?” a girl calls out and Harry bets it’s the same nosy girl who recognized him.

“Yes, Lilian?”

“You have a nice boyfriend,” she exclaims, earning a soft chuckle from Flora.

“Well thank you, Lilian, but let’s get back to our new unit. Let’s see the tasks you had to solve!”

The splashing sound of vomit arriving to the toilet hits Harry’s ears once again as he is rushing up the stairs with a glass of water and the Emetrol his hands that he dug the kitchen cabinets through for. Arriving to the master bathroom he finds Flora just where he left a few minutes ago, kneeling in front of the toilet, arms on the rim as she is taking a deep breath, hoping to calm her stomach and stop throwing up finally.

“Oh baby, here. Found you some Emetrol, this should help,” he coos gently, sitting down to the marble floor next to her he places the water beside him as he pours some of the liquid medicine into the cap for her. She lifts her head, skin pale as the wall, the dark circles under her eyes make his stomach churn, he hates to see her in this condition and wishes he could just help her.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her shaking hand takes the cup and she downs the medicine before taking a few sips from the water. “Harry, I’m so sorry for ruining our date,” she sighs in defeat.

“Oh shush. Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” he shakes his head, putting the Emetrol aside before he towers above her to redo her hair so it doesn’t fall to her face. Today marks their one year anniversary and though they only planned to go out for a nice dinner, nothing extra, Flora still feels bad they had to cancel on their reservation when she started throwing up this afternoon. She’s been feeling nauseous ever since she ate that leftover casserole for lunch. She had a feeling she should have just gotten rid of it, but she hated wasting food so ate it. Big mistake.

Harry’s fingers delicately work on her curls, piling them on the top of her heat before he secures the bun with professional movements using the elastic he tends to wear on his wrists, just because Flora always loses hers. He likes to keep one on him as well. His long haired days trained him well, her hair is neatly kept out of her face as she frowns, feeling her stomach churning again.

“Can I do anything else for you, baby?” he gently asks, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but she feels alright. She probably just has to get rid of the bad food.

“Can you please get me a wet washcloth?” she asks faintly. Sitting to her butt she leans against the wall beside her with her eyes closed.

Harry nods and he is on his feet in a blink of an eye, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and wetting it in some cool water. He kneels in front of her and starts gently tapping it against her cheeks, forehead and neck, wiping off the thin layer of sweat.

“This is not how I planned to spend our anniversary,” she groans with a frown, making him chuckle.

“We agreed, the anniversary is postponed. Don’t even think about it.”

“But I wanted to look nice for you, even bought a new dress.” She pouts her lips at him, eyes opening narrowly, glistening from the tears that watered them while she was throwing up.

“You always look nice, baby,” he softly tells her, letting her take the washcloth before she places it over her forehead.

“Even now? After you saw me throw up four times? We have very different versions for the word nice, H,” she jokes with a soft chuckle and Harry is thankful to see her smile, even if it’s still very faint and tired.

“Even now, baby,” he nods smirking and he is not lying. Though the situation is saddening, Harry still enjoys taking care of her, being the one she can rely on even on her worst days.

They sit on the bathroom floor as the medicine slowly works and she finally gets rid of the urge to throw up. Then Harry scoops her up and undressing the both of them, he helps her take a nice shower before dressing her in clean clothes, tossing their dirty ones into the laundry basket, noting to do them sometime in the morning.

When Flora is settled under the cover, head comfortably sinking into the pillow, she immediately feels her eyes closing, the strenuous afternoon has successfully sucked all her energy right out of her body. Harry brings her another big glass of water for the night and just to be sure, puts a trashcan next to her side, if things go south again. When he gets under the covers she is already half asleep, but she hums when his fingertips dance down the side of her face.

He allows himself to shamelessly admire her as she finally falls completely asleep, her lips parted as she slightly snores, but she looks so peaceful, the painful frown he saw on her face all afternoon is now gone from her beautiful face. He hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around how an entire year has passed with such a wonderful creature by his side. As their anniversary was coming up, he caught himself thinking about what the future is holding for them more often. There were so many things they needed to experience together, so much to see and do as partners and Harry couldn’t wait for it all to come.

As he lies in the bed next to her, a smile tugs on his pink lips at the thought of the possibility of spending the rest of his life with Flora. His future has never seemed brighter than in that moment.

“This is harder than I thought,” Flora admits, focusing on the instrument on her lap, trying to figure out if she is holding down the accords the right way, but a moment later Harry’s hand covers hers on the neck of the guitar and he fixes her fingers on the strings until they are in the right position.

“Like this. Try it now,” he murmurs, his chin resting on her shoulders as she is standing between his legs, back leant against his chest. Flora has been begging him to teach him a few accords on the guitar and today finally brought the moment Harry would turn into her master.

The two of them are sitting on the bed, Harry only in his underwear while Flora is in one of his hoodies with only her panties covering the lower parts of her body. Harry came back from a week-long trip to New York and they haven’t left the bed too much since he set his feet inside the house, only emerging from the bedroom to fulfill their other physical needs.

Flora’s fingers strum against the strings and the instrument comes to life, giving her a clear accord finally, bringing a triumphant smile to her lips.

“You are a natural talent, baby,” he smirks, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before kissing into her neck.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying!” she warns her playfully, playing the chord again, loving how she can create such a beautiful sound with the instrument.

“Mm, you’re coming for my career?”

“Oh, surely. I think I would make an excellent rockstar,” she nods confidently, making him laugh.

“You are so not the rockstar type. More like the chill indie singer who dances barefoot on stage.”

“Yeah, but I could spice it up a little and make it rockstar-y,” she explains and glances back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you think I would look hot in one of your stage costumes? Sparkly suit and all?”

“Oh I know you’d look amazing,” he nods eagerly. He has spent quite some time imagining her girl in one of his suits and he quite liked the thought. Flora chuckles as he puts the guitar aside before she turns around and straddles him, her knees on each of his sides.

“Yeah? I would need a better name, mine is not too fitting for a star,” she explains. “Easy for you, your name is basically the most perfect name for a rockstar.”

“You think so?” he cocks an eyebrow at her, his palms coming to cup her bum as he tilts his head backwards since this position makes her the taller one for a change.

“Harry Styles? Oh please, it’s like Anne knew she would give birth to a legend,” she scoffs making him laugh.

“I’ve been told it’s a nice one,” he shrugs smugly. “I think it’s the surname.”

“It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“What if you had the same? Flora Styles? Sounds pretty badass,” he suggests and at first, she doesn’t even realize the hidden meaning behind his words, tasting the name so obliviously.

“Flora Styles? You might be right, the surname sounds very cool,” she agrees and it amazes him how easily it went over her head.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her hand reaching for the guitar once again, but Harry stops her, taking it between his as he blindly finds her ring finger that is now ringless.

“Do you like it enough to actually take it?” he questions, hoping she would get the hint now where this is heading. She blinks at him a little puzzled but it’s until she realizes that his fingers are fidgeting with her ring finger, more specifically where a ring would sit on it, his fingertips gently caressing the skin around it.

“Harry?” she gasps with wide eyes as she just watches his grin grow wider. “This is not… Are you--?”

“What?” he chuckles, feeling entertained how she lost all her smug confidence all of a sudden. “What’s it that you’re trying to say?”

“No, what is it that you are trying to say?!” she snaps back, still in shock about what he just implied. “Was this your sneaky way of… proposing?” she asks, whispering the last word as if it was a curse word.

“Why do you act like we have a forbidden love and marriage cannot be even mentioned?” he chuckles at her.

“Because I was shocked! Not that bad now though, you haven’t pulled out a ring so I guess it was just a cruel joke.” She narrows her eyes at him, kissing his smug grin shortly, but Harry is definitely not done with her just yet.

“I wouldn’t be that sure about it, baby,” he warns her before gently pushing her off her lap to get off the bed. Flora’s eyes widen as she follows him walk to his suitcase that’s still lying on the floor next to his dresser, waiting to be unpacked. He digs under his clothes before pulling out a small velvety box, making her gasp immediately. Harry gets back on bed as he holds out the box in front of her on his palm, not opening it just yet.

“Did you buy that in New York just this week?” she asks with her mouth hung open.

“I didn’t. I’ve had it for about a month, I just took it with myself because I was afraid you’d find it,” he chuckles as he plays around with it between his fingers. “Have been planning on it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so then I just decided to wait for the right moment and go with the flow,” he explains.

“And this is the right moment?” she questions, her heart beating in her throat as her gaze is switching between Harry’s green eyes and the box in his hand.

“Felt like it, yeah,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Silence settles between them as they both just wrap their heads around the weight of the moment. Harry’s heart flutters in his chest, a little afraid it’s too early. They’ve been dating a little over two years now, marriages have been tied way earlier in a relationship before, but Harry feared Flora would feel it too rushed just yet, however the question is out there now. Or is it?

“Well, are you gonna ask it?” she questions and as Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet her gaze, he is met with that playful challenge in them that he adores so much.

“I just asked,” he mutters.

“No, you asked if I would take your name. That’s not a proposal,” she reminds him and he realizes she is right. He never actually asked the big question.

So he finally pops the lid open revealing the vintage diamond ring he bought a month ago when he was just out and about. The moment his eyes laid on the jewelry, he knew it’s the one he’d like to see on your finger and bought it right away.

“Floortje Hoven, will you marry me?” he simply asks, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks as he smiles widely at his lover.

“I will,” she nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she watches him take the ring out of the box and carefully put it on her once empty ring finger. Still holding her hand, he brings it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the ring before leaning in he connects his lips with hers.

-

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[enthusiasticharry]

The Secrets You Keep

summary: you're a stripper, and you meet Harry off shift. what happens when he finds out?

request: hiiii would you be able to do something like stripper y/n? not where they meet at the club or anything but something natural like at a cafe or something but she keeps it from him bc she thinks he’ll leave her? then he has a guys night at the strip club and sees her perform? but he loves it and she’s a bit embarrassed? idk but that kinda vibe if ur up for it! X

word count: 8.3k words of fluff, smut and angst if you squint (and i really mean squint) also not proofread, sorry! 

masterlist    |    asks

It never occurred to you that once you left full time education you’d end up becoming a stripper. It wasn’t the occupation you had envisioned for yourself, but it was the one that paid the best money and even though it shouldn’t be — money was the thing that you needed the most. You lived in a small, one bedroom flat that you shared with your Grandma who had no income and little pension meaning that you was the only source of income for the two of you. Obviously it was hard upon you, but your Grandma had done so much for you when you were younger that you wanted to help her as much as you possibly could. Granted, finding a job as an eighteen year old that was enough to help pay the bills and for the treatment your Grandmother needed wasn’t the easiest, and that was how you stumbled across the club and the jobs there. Your Grandma didn’t know how you received your income, and you planned to keep it that way for as long as you physically could. 

“Have you got any private dances today?” Jocelyn, also known as Sapphire amongst the people in the club, asked as she started fixing her makeup in the mirror next to yours. 

“I don’t know.” You sighed, spraying a small amount of hairspray upon your curls, “I haven’t spoken to Elliot yet.” 

“Apparently some big shot businessmen are coming in tomorrow.” Ruby adds from the other side of you, applying a lipstick that matched her name to her lips. 

“Ugh.” Sapphire groaned, “That means old men with small dicks wanking to us instead of being with their probably very lovely, loving wives at home.” 

“They lust after the taboo.” You add, applying a small amount of lipgloss to your lips, “They want what they can’t have, and brag when they get it.” 

“They have money though.” Ruby shrugged, “Haven’t had many tips this week. I’d probably do anything for a couple hundred quid tomorrow.” 

“Not anything Ruby.” You turn to look at her, shaking your head at the younger girl, “Stand your ground. Don’t let them take advantage of you.” 

“I won’t.” She smiled, “I learnt from the best.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” 

As a fresh eighteen year old, just as Ruby was now, you could’ve only hoped for someone to help you and guide you through the trails and tribulations you endured at the club. That’s why you sort of took the younger girl under your wing and helped her as much as possible. 

It wasn’t a lot. Granted, with what they did the majority of it was on their own upon the stage or in a private dance but you wanted to make sure she had small tips to help her handle herself in any situation that could occur and that she someone to talk to if she ever needed it. 

“Are you working tomorrow, Emerald?” Emerald was your stage name. 

“No.” You sigh happily, “It’s my day off.” 

“Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.” Ruby smiled. 

You certainly did. 

The next morning, after helping your Grandma get ready and to the hospital, you make your way towards the small café you usually went to during your Grandmother’s chemo sessions. They usually lasted around three hours, and whilst you offered to stay with her, she usually forced you to leave and spend some time on your own, claiming she didn’t want you to see her at her worst.

The spring days had just started to warm up, so you dressed yourself in a summer dress you had picked up for cheap at a charity shop. You carried your tote bag with your book in over your shoulder as you pushed past the people on the street.

It wasn’t usually this busy, and looking around you saw no free tables but a few free chairs dotted around. Your favourite table, tucked away in the far right corner by the window had been taken by a man sat reading, just as you would’ve been. You toy back and forth with the idea of going to sit over there as you walk over to the counter. 

You order your usual, a peach iced tea, and wait for the kind barista to make it. Your free days, usually, landed sporadically. They normally occurred when your grandmother either had chemo or a hospital appointment and that’s only because she can sometimes be really ill after them and needed you to look after her. Even though Elliot was not a good person by any means, he understood your situation and did help as little as he could. 

“Excuse me.” The man looked up from this book at you, “Is this seat taken?” 

“Uh. . .” 

“It’s fine if it’s not!” Your quick to add, “There’s just no other seats.” 

“No.” Your smile falters, “No! I mean that the seats not taken. It’s yours.” 

“Thank you.” You drop your tote bag down on the floor, holding your hand out to the man, “I’m YN.” 

“Harry.” He shakes your outstretched hand. 

There was something oddly familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on why. He dressed quite casually, a punny t-shirt that said something about health on it and you didn’t want to seem too weird and bend down to look at what he had on his bottom half but you suspected it was something just as interesting. 

You take your book out of your bag and place it on the table in front of you, flicking through the pages until you found the page you had left off at. 

As a child you loved to read. Your grandmother always read you a bedtime story before bed and it lead to English being your best subject at school. Whether it be the creative writing aspect, or the analytic — you were just good at it. It was your highest grade at GCSE, an A, and your highest grade at A Level, a B.

You didn’t exchange any more words with Harry the entire time you were there. Periodically you looked up at him, and somewhere deep down you hoped that he did the same for you but you couldn’t be too sure. The book that he was reading seemed interesting enough, something about watermelon, you had noticed. You had a slight suspicion that it wasn’t about watermelon but you could never be too sure you supposed. 

A whine almost escaped your lips when you realised that you had to go pick up your Grandmother and your book had just gotten interesting. That was the problem when you read, you could sit and do it for hours and not even look up. It was something so interesting to you that you could immerse yourself in a world different to the one you lived in and slip out of reality for however long and return back to normal as though nothing had happened. 

“Thank you for letting me sit here.” You smile as you pack your bag up, “Goodbye.” 

“Bye.” 

You left feeling sort of fuzzy inside. You hadn’t spoken to the man at all really, but he was kind and certainly handsome with his tousled brown hair and gentle smile. That was probably going to be the last time that you saw him, and you probably should’ve asked for his number at least but you didn’t and that was why you walked away with him laying heavy upon your mind.

The next day, you wanted nothing more than to leave in the middle of your shift and curl up on the sofa. Instead, you were stood in a private room in the back of the club swirling your hips for a man sat upon a chair in the middle. 

“You’re fucking fit.” He moans, and you almost throw up in your mouth. 

“Thank you.” 

You move yourself so you’re hovered over his lap, twisting your hips to beat of the sultry song spilling out of the speakers. If you didn’t need the money, or have a bills to pay you certainly wouldn’t be doing this. 

“Fucking sort.” That’s when his hand drops down upon your behind, squeezing the flesh harshly. 

You stand up, flipping around so that you’re looking at him, “Hands off.” 

“Babe.” He throws his head back, “C’mon I’ve paid bags for this dance.” 

“And you pay for a dance, and the rules state no touching.” 

He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, babe.” 

“Better not.” 

It does, and that’s when you get up and leave. He still has to pay, which is a plus but it just isn’t the best feeling. The job you do isn’t one that people necessarily respect you for, but there are rules in place to help with that. You and the other dancers within the club were human beings and deserved the rights that any other person has. 

“You okay?” Ruby presses her hand to your shoulder as you powder your under-eyes, “I heard he was touching.” 

“Yeah.” You smile at her through the mirror, “Started behind and they he just full on groped me.” 

“Men are pigs.” 

“I second that statement.” You laugh, “But you know what they’ll say.” 

“That we teased and antagonised them to do it.”

Throwing her a deadpan look, you nod. It was something that you had dealt with for the past six years of your life and even though you did hate it and wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up every time it happened — you had gotten used to it. 

“Did you have a nice day off yesterday?” 

“I did thank you.” You smile, “Read a bit. Spent some time with my Grandma.” 

“Sounds lovely.” Her face then twists into one that you can’t quite pinpoint, “You didn’t miss much here.” 

“The businessmen not up too much?” 

“No they paid well.” She nodded, “We just had to watch them wank their micropenises at us.” 

You curl your nose up at the thought, “That sounds pleasant.” 

“Totally.” She snorts. 

“Emerald. Ruby.” Elliot sticks his head into the room, “Get your asses back out there.” 

Ruby rolls her eyes and you laugh. Your job certainly wasn’t your favourite but some of the people around you made it more pleasant.

Two weeks later you find yourself sat in the corner of the café down the road from the hospital, your book open in front of you and a peppermint tea sat upon the table in a pot. Your Grandmother’s second round of chemo was slowly coming to the end of its stint and even though you wanted nothing more than for her to be back to the epitome of health, you would miss spending time at this small café. 

“Hi.” You lift your head up to see Harry stood there, slightly breathless, “Is this seat taken?” 

“It’s yours.” You smile, watching him drop his book on the table.

This time you could see his entire outfit. A white t-shirt with some writing on that you missed, a floral shirt over the top paired with red corduroy flares. You were right the last time that you met him —he did have an amazing sense of style. You, however, bought whatever was the cheapest or on sale that seemed acceptable to wear in public. 

“How have you been?” 

“I’ve been okay.” You smile, “You?” 

“Good, thanks.” He scratches the base of his neck, “I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Oh.” You have to stop yourself from smiling too much, “I only come when my Grandma has an appointment and they’re usually two weeks apart.” 

“Ah.” He nods before his face curls, “I’m sorry if that seemed creepy.” 

“It didn’t.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt within your stomach, “I just thought I wouldn’t see you again.” 

“Couldn’t let that happen.” Heat rises up your neck as he beams.

“No complaints about that from me.” 

“That’s good.” He rests his hand upon his chest, letting out a deep breath, “Thought I was punching a little over my weight.” 

“You’re not.” You cheeks hurt from smiling, “It’s cute.” 

He looks down at his book. He seemed so shy, as though he had a confidence to talk to people but once they complimented him or something to do with him it completely changed. It was intriguing. He was already nicer to you than most people you’ve met of the opposite sex in your life and you’re let to learn anything about him apart from the fact that he reads Bukowski and likes black coffee — it certainly wasn’t much to go on. 

“How long do we have until you have to go back to your Grandma?” 

“Not long.” You sigh sadly, “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I understand, it’s okay.” He flashes you a small smile, “Can I walk you back to the hospital?” 

You ponder his offer for a second, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You walk back to the hospital brushing arms with one of the nicest people you’d ever met, and you couldn’t be happier. 

“Has your Grandma been having treatment for long?” 

“It’s her second round.” You explained, “They originally removed the tumour and it went away but it came back. They caught it quickly and she’s back in bay 11 for three hours every two weeks.” 

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, “That must’ve been tough.” 

You shrug, “She’s a fighter, I know she is.” 

“I don’t doubt she is.” He smiles, “She’s got an amazing granddaughter to stay alive for.” 

The walk to the hospital isn’t long enough in your opinion. You speak about a few things, and you learn he does music and that’s when you put two and two together and realise that he’s actually Harry Styles from One Direction. Harry wished he could’ve recorded your reaction when you realised. 

Harry had never met someone like you, and he had met a lot of people in his life. You were sweet, and kind and so gentle but also confident and held yourself in such a strong way that he couldn’t help but want to know you, the real you. 

“This is it.” You stop in front of the entrance closest to the chemo ward, “Thank you for walking me.” 

“It’s no problem.” He smiles, “I hope this doesn’t sound too weird, but can I get your number?” 

“Uh. . . yeah.” 

“Great.” He beams, “At least now I won’t have to hope you show up at the café.” 

You swear you felt your heart burst. 

During your shift a couple of weeks later, you don’t notice your phone light up a message. You actually don’t notice at all until you arrived home that night. You had already checked on your Grandma, who was sound asleep in bed, and that’s when you allowed yourself to drop down upon the sofa with a sigh. 

Seeing an unknown number pop up on your screen at first had confused you, but once you had looked further into it, your palms started sweating. 

Hi YN. It’s Harry. I know it’s been a while but I’ve been trying to figure out what to say. I hope you and your Grandma are well. 

Your heart starts to beat faster. The message you had awaited for weeks was here and you had no idea how to act, never mind what too reply back with. The only thing that spiralled around within your mind was that he had been thinking about you. 

In your head, you imagined him pacing around in his large house trying to figure out what to send you, just like they do in the movies. You at least hoped that was what he had been doing over the past couple of weeks. 

Hi Harry! It’s lovely to hear from you, sorry it’s late. I’m okay, Grandma’s getting there. How are you? 

You throw your phone down on the sofa next to you, trying not to giggle like you did as a schoolgirl whenever you were messaging boys. You nearly cried whenever you phone ran out of credit and you’d end up having to run to the store to get a top up in the morning with your spending money and explaining to them what had happened. You were thankful that your upgrade didn’t need that. 

I’m okay. Glad to hear about your Grandma. I know this is probably really weird and totally out of the blue, but are you free this weekend? I’m leaving next week for a little while and I really want to see you before I do. 

In your head, you ignore the end of the message about him leaving and focus on the fact that he wants to see you. Harry Styles wants to see you. You hoped it was a date, everything pointed it to be a date but you didn’t want get too ahead of yourself. 

You haven’t had a boyfriend since your first year of Sixth Form, and the first date you were going on since then was going to be with Harry Styles of all people. 

If you pull some strings, work an extra long shift on Saturday and please some of Elliot’s special clients — you may be able to get Friday night off. It was a maybe, but over the next two days you could make it a yes. You hoped that you could make it a yes. 

You’ve never, in your six years of working at the club, missed any of your shifts for anything other than your Grandma suddenly falling ill, and those were on rare occasions. You certainly deserved this day off.

I’ll have to check with my boss but I think I could do Friday night? If that’s not a problem for you. 

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from internally freaking out. 

Sounds perfect. How about I pick you up at 8? 

You wince. It wasn’t as though your were embarrassed of where you lived because you weren’t. You’ve worked hard to be able to pay for the flat and everything in it but there was something about showing it to someone who you’ve only just met and had no intention of explaining your situation to wasn’t on the top of your priority list. 

Is there any chance I could meet you somewhere? 

Of course. Where do you fancy eating? Italian? Thai? 

Italian sounds good. 

Great. I’ll send you details over. 

Thank you :) 

See you then, YN. Sweet dreams. 

Night, Harry. 

You slept well that night. 

“I just don’t think I can spare you Friday.” Elliot sighs, “I’m sorry YN.” 

You have to stop yourself from wanting to cry. You don’t use up all your holiday days, and you work way more than you should or that you’re paid for but you don’t complain and you just get on with it. The one time you ask for a shift off, his stubborn ass says that he cant do it. 

“Please, Elliot.” You sign, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I just need this day off.” 

“And I need my best girl on the floor. Need the best of the best.” 

“There are plenty of other better girls than me working here.” 

He shakes his head, “You’re the favourite, YN. Need you to be there.” 

“Elliot.” You sigh, leaning forward in the uncomfortable seat you were sat in, “I’ve worked for you for six years and I’ve never asked for a day off like this before.” 

“Yeah but—”

“—and! I’ve never asked for a day off apart from going to the hospital and you know that.” 

“I couldn’t exactly say no to you—”

“I’ve worked every shift you’ve ever asked me to, covered for people when you need it.” 

“Stop it!” He holds his hand up to silence you, “Just shut up for a second.” 

You clamp your lips shut. If you didn’t need to stay on his good side to get Friday off you probably would’ve said something about how rude he was being. He’d always been rude, but he paid you and the rest of the girls so you all chose to ignore it. 

He ponders, and you know the cogs are turning within his brain as he scrolls through his laptop, typing a few things. He takes his glasses off his face and drops them dramatically down on the table in front of him. 

“Ruby will cover your shift.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you!” 

“Don’t be thanking me too quickly.” He points his finger, “I need a favour from you.” 

“Anything. Well not anything.” 

“In a few weeks times there’s a big birthday party coming in.” He explains, “I need you to be the star of the show, do private dances and all the good things like that.” 

“Just that?” You ask, knowing that it could be a trap knowing Elliot’s track record. 

He nods, “Just that.” 

You look at him sceptically, “What’s the catch?” 

“No catch.” He holds his hands up, “A few big names are coming, that’s all. A list celebs that have asked to use the back exit.”

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” 

“Let me know the date and I’ll do it.” 

You stand up, happy that you’ve managed to get your shift tomorrow off and that you can go on the date you have been excited for since you met Harry and was introduced to the world with him in it. 

“Have fun at your thing Friday.” 

“Thank you. . .?” 

You don’t think you like Elliot being nice to you. 

Friday night rolled around quickly and you were thankful for that. After helping your Grandma with her own dinner and into bed, you start getting ready. You curl your hair, brushing it out until its in what looks like effortless waves but are actually quite hard waves to achieve. You do natural makeup, something completely different to makeup you usually wear in one of your shifts. You try to keep all of your features soft, different to how you usually look on a day to day basis. You dress in a long white polka-dotted maxi skirt, paired with a thin long-sleeved jumper that would keep you warm due to the ever changing British weather. 

You had done a little bit of research on the restaurant Harry had sent you the address for and learnt that it wasn’t the most expensive restaurant ever, but one that was way out of your price range. It meant that you had to dip into the fund that you keep for occasions where you need a little extra money or you will use in the future when you eventually move out and busy your own place. 

The tube was crammed, seeing as though it was a Friday night and the majority of people were either coming home from work and stating to go out for end of the week drinks. You knew that the club would start to become heaving as the night grew and a part of you was thankful that you didn’t have to work today, and you were given a small break from the hell that is working at a strip club. 

The restaurant, when you arrived, definitely looked fancier than it had online. The bar stood against the corner wall, the right hand side of the restaurant had booths covering the walls whilst stand alone tables scattered around the rest of the room.

You were surprised when you saw Harry, already sat at the booth in the far right corner. He lifted his hand up in an awkward sort of wave and you couldn’t help but beam at him. He had a shirt, an expensive looking white shirt with a yellow and blue jumper over the top. You hand felt so excited to see someone since when your Grandma went into hospital for her tumour being removed and you couldn’t see her for a few days. 

“YN.” He sighs, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” You smile, slipping into the booth across from him. 

“Was starting to think you wasn’t going to show up.” 

“I’m sorry.” You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I underestimated how bust the tube was going to be.” 

You can tell he wants to pry but instead he says, “It’s okay.” 

His nails were painted yellow, a few of them painted lilac as well. There was something so simple about his nails that you just loved, and if it wasn’t weird you probably would’ve stared at them for way too long for it to be acceptable. You knew he had tattoos, and you could see the cross on his hand and the the anchor peaking out from underneath his shirt and you wanted to see more. 

“I like your nails.” You smile, running your own fingers over your own nails underneath the table. 

“Thanks.” A blush creeps up his neck, “I did them last night. Sort of calmed me down, I was quite nervous.” 

“Nervous for what?” 

“This.” He nods, “I haven’t been as nervous for a date in a long time.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous.” 

In your twenty four years of living, you’ve never had someone say that they were nervous to see you. You’ve been nervous to see and do many things in your life and you hoped that somewhere along the line it would’ve been the same for somebody else and yourself but you had the slight suspicion that wasn’t the case. Hearing those words out loud, coming from someone who you’d never expect it too was special, and you were going to keep that for as long as you physically could. 

“I did.” He looks down at the table briefly, “I’ve never liked a girl as much as I like you before.” 

“You don’t really know me.” 

“I’d like to get to know you.” 

That’s what you do. For the rest of the date you don’t stop talking. Even though you’re starving and could eat your fist, it takes you the longest you’ve ever taken to eat your food because of how much you spend it talking. 

You’re just about to dig in to your desert when your body physically halts, “Why didn’t you want me to pick you up?” 

“I, uh, I—”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t what to! I know I can be pretty invasive sometimes.” 

“No, it’s fine!” You take a sip of your drink to swallow down the dryness within your throat, “I don’t live in the nicest building, or in the nicest area and I guess I was embarrassed.” 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

“But I was.” You drop your eyes to the plate in front of you, “I know I shouldn’t have been and that it was stupid but I just didn’t want you judge me before you truly knew me because of where I live.” 

“I hope you know now that I wouldn’t have done that.” 

“I do.” 

You let Harry drive you home. Even though you would never admit it to his face just yet, you really liked him. He was kind, sweet and funny and everything you could ever want in your person. You haven’t said this in a long time but you love the person you are around him and you wouldn’t change it for the world if you didn’t have to. 

He stops in the car park outside the building of flats you live in and you can tell he’s thinking deeply about something but you try to not concentrate on that too much. 

“I would invite you up.” You laugh, “But I don’t think the sofa in the middle of my Grandma’s flat whilst she snores in the next room is the most romantic.” 

He scrunches up his nose, “I can’t say that it is.” 

“I’m sorry.” You drop your head to look at your hands that are tested on your knees, “I really wish I could offer you something. Anything.”

“It’s okay, YN.” He uses his finger to move your head up so that you’re looking at him, “I don’t expect anything from you. I hope you know that.” 

“I know.” 

He hesitates for a moment, and you can feel the finger that was rested upon your chin move upwards so that its upon your cheek. You flicker your eyes closed and just mask in the feeling of his touch against your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. 

You eyes open as you nod your head, letting out a shaky breath at the sheer surprise you feel at his words.

“Want your words, darling.” 

“Please kiss me.”  

You close your eyes again and you feel his lips touch yours. It's light at first, but you can’t contain yourself and you end up pushing closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his lips upon yours. Your fingertips grip the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer without hurting himself too much on the centre console. Even though you both don’t want to, you pull away as you start to loose breath. 

“You okay?” Your chest heaves up and down as he speaks. 

“Never been better.” You sigh, resting your forehead against his. 

“Good.” 

You kiss again, this time its more passionate and you can’t help but let out a small whine as he pulls away. The smug look on his face after hearing that sound was enough to send your stomach doing flips. 

You really didn’t want to do this, but you had too: “I have to go.” 

“It’s okay.” He smiles, “I understand.” 

“Okay.” You reach for the door handle. 

“I have to go away for a bit.” He sighs, “I’m writing some music over in America but when I get back, do you want to maybe go on another date?” 

“I’d love to.” 

He presses one last kiss to your lips and you leave the car, muttering a small, “Bye.” 

You feel giddy. As though you’re sixteen again and just come back from your first date with your first boyfriend. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time and in all honesty, you had no idea how to handle those feelings. You certainly wouldn’t admit that you screamed quietly into your pillow in excitement that night. 

You couldn’t wait for him to return home. 

Two weeks. Harry was away for two weeks and even though you had only kissed him once, twice if you actually count how many kisses there were, you missed him more than words could explain. You weren’t one to usually message first, so you did end up waiting until Harry had a spare moment to message you which wasn’t as often as you would’ve liked but you couldn’t complain. 

You almost felt as though you had been drip fed this new life with Harry in, only to have it taken away quicker than you could blink. It wasn’t forever, and that was probably the thing keeping you sane. This had all happened in such a short amount of time but you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

The only thing that limited how far you could take this was your job. 

Harry had obviously been curious and during a text conversation in the first week of his week being away — he asked what you did. After having a small freak out you decided to say that you worked in a bar. It was a small, white lie and you hated yourself for it but telling him that you were a stripper just didn’t feel like the best thing to do at that time. 

You just weren’t ready to tell him, and that was totally okay. 

Speaking of your work, tonight was the night of the big party that Elliot made sure you could come to. The club had held celebrity parties before, so you weren’t entirely nervous but every time someone mentioned it you could feel your heart speeding up slightly. 

“Emerald.” You turn to look at Elliot who’s trudging towards you, a bag in hand, “Here’s your new outfit for tonight.” 

“New? I thought I’d just wear the one for special occasions.” 

“This is a special, special occasion Emerald.” He dropped the bag down in front of you, “Wear this.” 

Taking the material out of the bag, your mouth dropped open at the sight of the emerald green lingerie in your hands. It was delicate lace that you feared you’d rip if you weren’t too careful. Putting it on, your breasts slightly spilled over the lace, and whilst your front was covered, the thong back of the lingerie left your ass on full display. It was beautiful, you couldn’t dismiss that but you just hadn’t ever worn something so skimpy before. You pulled your black silk robe over your shoulders, fastened your black heels onto your feet and made your way towards the side of the stage. 

The skimpiness of the new lingerie did send more butterflies to the pit of your stomach than you were originally hoping for but it was only another hurdle for you to get over which you knew you’d be able to do. 

You heard the music start to play, you slipped your hand through the gap in the curtain and opened it, revealing yourself to the room. 

Here goes nothing, you mumble to yourself. 

Harry’s jaw dropped at the sight of you on the stage. It certainly wasn’t his usual scene, a strip club, but it was a friend of a friends birthday and he had kindly been invited and he wasn’t about to turn it down. He wasn’t in the band anymore, and certainly didn’t have to hide that he went to places like this anymore, even though they weren’t his favourite. 

He couldn’t bare his eyes off of you. The way your body moved to the rhythm of the song, your darkly manicured nails pushed the robe of your shoulders, exposing the delicate lingerie you were wearing. Harry would be lying if he said that his cock didn’t start to stir at the sight. 

You. The girl who he thought spent her days reading, and looking after Grandma had a secret persona that he only wanted to explore more. 

“My word.” One of the men in the group spoke, loudly so that everyone could hear him, “She’s fit as fuck.” 

“To get my hands on her.” 

Harry clenches his jaw, and his fist that rested on the arm of his chair. If he wasn’t in a very public place where people could record him, he’d give that man a piece of his mind. He probably would but he’d do it when nobody was around so the man could truly understand what he was saying to him. 

“Do you think I could get a dance with her?” The birthday boy asked. 

“It’s your birthday.” The dickhead with no morals spoke, “She might give you something special as a present.” 

“The rules say no touching.” The words slip out of Harry’s mouth before he can stop them, “So I highly doubt that.” 

“I’m sure you’d be saying something different if you were in his position, Styles.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the stage, watching as you seductively bent down to pick up some of the tips that had been thrown on the bottom of the stage. The song was slowly finishing and Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bit of disappointment bubbling within him.

Harry watched your lean legs as you strutted towards the side of the stage, flicking the long wig on your head over your shoulder, seductively running your tongue over your bottom lip as you pulled the material of the lingerie down from your breasts. 

Harry bit his lip, his leg bounced, he ran his hand up and down his thigh. He tried to do everything in his power to distract himself from the rousing within his trousers but he just couldn’t do it. The flimsy material dropped to the floor, your red painted lips curled up into a smirk and you made your way behind the curtain, not showing any of your truly bare skin. 

If you hadn’t been imprinted on his brain before, you certainly were now.

You could hear the grunts and groans of happiness, and a few cheers whilst on stage but the lights were so bright that you couldn’t see anything past the first row or so. The tips you had received were good, and you were pleased about that. 

You received your robe and bra back from the stage and pulled them back onto your body. Your solo dance was always a hit for Elliot, and you supposed that was why he’s kept you on for so long and if you were honest, they were the easiest to do. Private dances always made you too uncomfortable, and in the six years you’ve worked there there had only been a handful of people that made you feel comfortable when it came to private dances. 

“Emerald.” Elliot walks in smiling and you assume everything is swell on the floor, “They fucking love you.” 

You nod your head, muttering a small and awkward, “Thank you.” 

He hums, “You’ve been requested for a private dance, and he’s promised to pay you accordingly.” 

“Really?” 

Another hum, “Room Two. I think he’s already there.” 

“Thanks.” 

He leaves the room, a bounce in his step. You suppose that this is a good thing and he’ll finally get off your back for the time you took off for the date with Harry. You at least hoped. 

You checked yourself. You made sure your makeup still looked flawless, your breasts sat perfectly within the material and your arse looked good. You brush through the wig once and make your way towards room two, the smaller of the three private dance rooms which helped it be more intimate. 

You smiled at the bouncer at the door, Gerry, a man who looked as though he could kill someone with a single punch but was actually a massive teddy bear. He was good at his job of keeping everyone safe and making sure that the bad eggs that came in left just as quickly. 

Watching the door slowly open, Harry felt his heart stop. He had been pacing up and down the room ever since he had walked in, and only just stopped when he heard the creek of the door. He couldn’t believe that you were in front of him, and you certainly couldn’t believe that he was in front of you either. 

“YN. . .” He sounded breathless. 

“Harry?” He could see your chest rising and falling at a quick pace, “What? How? I thought you were in America.” 

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I got back last night.” 

“Why are you here?” He can hear the lump in your throat as you speak, your eyes glossing over. 

“A Birthday party.” 

“Yours?” 

“No!” He’s quick to interrupt, “A friend of a friend. It’s not mine. Mine’s in February, and I certainly don’t think I’ll be having my party here. Not that there’s anything wrong with here! It’s lovely! You’re lovely! I’m rambling.” 

He was so gosh darn cute and if you weren’t in the middle of a break down, you probably would’ve laughed or at least reacted to his little word vomit. It was probably the quickest you’d ever heard him talk, not that it was hard. 

After a few minutes of contemplating what to say, you sigh, “I’m sorry.” 

His voice is soft, his features falling, “What are you sorry for?” 

“Lying to you.” You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to suppress the tears, “I didn’t want to.” 

“Hey, hey.” He walks over to you, placing his finger underneath your chin just like he had done in the car weeks ago, “No need to get upset, I’m not.” 

“You should be.” You bottom lip quivers, “I lied to you and I had no intention to retract that just yet.” 

“YN.” He rests his palms on your cheeks, “I’m not angry. I’m not upset. I just want to know why.”

“I was scared.” You admit, trying to do anything but look up at him, “I didn’t know what you’d think or if you’d change your mind.” 

“Change my mind about what?” 

“Wanting too, you know. . .?” 

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t. There’s no reason for me to.” 

“I’m a stripper Harry, it gives you full reason to not want to be associated with me.” You lift your hand to wipe your under-eye. 

“I’m not judging you, YN, I said I wouldn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t be upset if you did.” 

“YN.” His voice is stern, more so than it had been, “I don’t care that you’re a stripper.” 

“You don’t.” 

“No.” He smiles, “I don’t.” 

“Fuck.” You let out a breath of relief, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs, “If you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to.” 

You had never met someone like him, and no matter how many times he surprised you that was just fact. Granted, you hadn’t had time to date anyone with looking after your Grandma but another reason you didn’t was because of what they would think of you. 

You knew that not everyone would be was understanding and lovely as Harry had been, and that was just because of the lovely person he was inside and out. That was the reason you didn’t tell him, because even though you had an inclination that he was accepting but you didn’t know whether that was just a façade or he was like that in real life. You loved that he was like that in real life. 

“Can I be honest?” You nod, “I enjoyed it.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the smile that threatened to cross your lips, “You did?” 

He hums, beaming a smile at you. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” The corner of his lips tugs upwards, “I’d still love to get that private dance.”

You roll your eyes and thwack his shoulder playfully, “If you must.” 

“I’ll wait for you.” He nods, “Until your shift is over, if you want.” 

“Please.” 

“I’ll see you then.” 

You hadn’t even made it completely into Harry’s house before his lips were on yours. He pushed you up against his front door before he’d even shut it properly, his lips falling upon yours with a hunger you hadn’t felt since you last kissed him. 

Maybe it was his hands rested upon the small of your back, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Can I offer you a drink?” He smirks against your lips. 

“Not the priority.” You reply, not bringing your lips away from his. 

“Noted.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Upstairs?” 

“Upstairs.” 

You follow him up the stairs, your hand rested firmly in his. You’re too distracted by the man in front of you to take any notice of the house or where you were going. 

Harry had kept true to his word and waited for you. You secretly wished that you could have recorded the group’s reaction as you walked towards him, a small smile on your face. After bidding them goodbye, the two of you jumped in a taxi that Harry had ordered and made your way to his house, or what you expected to be his house and you weren’t disappointed. 

The second you step into the plushly decorated room, you’re kissing again. His hands slide down to rest upon curve of your ass, his ring-clad fingers immediately squeezing the flesh. You groan lightly into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip through her parted lips. You grip his bicep as he leads your backwards into the room, your calves hitting the bed as he does so. 

Your lips part, you fall back onto the bed. You look up at him through your eyelashes, your fingertips reaching to pull the shirt he was wearing over his head. You almost swoon there and then at the sight of the tattoos littering his skin. You lean forward and place a kiss on his lower stomach, just before his happy trail that slips into the band of his trousers. 

You bite your lip, grinning up at him. 

“What are you planning?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrug, “What do you want me to be planning?” 

He groans, “Anything at this point.”

You reach forward, taking the button of his trousers in your fingers. You look up, “Is this okay?” 

“More than okay, baby.” 

You unbutton his trousers, wrapping your finger in the waistband and pulling them down. You can already see the tent in his boxers. You wondered how long he had been like this, you wondered if it had been since your dances. 

You blush slightly as you hook your fingers now into the waistband of his boxers, looking up at him. You can’t handle the look on his face, the slight blush but the boyish grin mixed with his curls that had fallen forward upon his forehead. You pull the fabric down, exposing his hard cock. You watch as it hits his stomach briefly, the tip swollen. You lift your hand up, wrapping it around him before giving him a few pumps. His stomach quivers as you do so, a groan escaping him as you wrap your lips around his tip. His eyes flutter closed as you start to bob your head, his fingers reaching forward to grab your hair into a ponytail. 

“Fuck baby.” His hips involuntarily buck forward. You sink further down, going as far as you could. 

Harry couldn’t believe how good he felt. It had been a while since he had been with someone, and it was worth the wait. You pulled away too soon in his opinion, but the sight of you, all teary eyed and sloppy sent his mind spiralling. 

“God.” He bent down and wrapped his arms around your thighs, lifting you up so he could move you further up the bed, “You’re fucking killing me here.” 

“Good.” You giggle. 

He’s quick to remove your shirt, allowing you to pull your jeans down at the same time. He didn’t expect you to still be in the lingerie from earlier, and if it was physically possible, he swore his cock hardened even more. 

“Fuck me.” 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours again as his fingers fumble with the latch of your bra. You bite your bottom lip as he wraps his around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. He uses his hand to knead the other one. You can’t help but grind your hips forwards, a feeling bubbling deep in the pit of your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Harry.” You moan, withering under his touch. 

He kisses down from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck until he’s littering them all the way to the band of your underwear. 

“Is this okay?” 

“More than okay.” You whine as he lets out a breath upon the thin material. 

He pulls your underwear down, teasing you by placing kisses across your thighs and pubic bone. He’s so close, yet so far from the place that you need him the most. He licks a stripe across your centre, until he wraps his lips around your clit. You can’t help the moans that escape your parted lips as he nibbles and flicks your sensitive nub, her thighs starting to shake as he coaxes her closer and closer to her orgasm. 

“Don’t stop.” You thread your fingers through his hair, “God! Harry.” 

He pulls away, and you let out a shaky breath as he does so. 

“No fair.” You whine. 

“Life isn’t.” 

“Just shut up and get a condom.” He does as you request, placing a small peck to your lips as he reached over to grab a condom from the drawer beside the bed. 

You watch as he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling the rubber down his length. He presses another kiss to your lips, catching her eyesight once more.

“Are you sure?” 

“More than okay.” 

He hovers over you, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds to coax a moan out of your lips. He groans into your shoulder as he pushes in, biting down briefly to suppress the sound. 

“Don’t.” You moan, scratching your nails down his back as he starts to thrust in and out of you, “Let me hear you.” 

“Fuck.” You squeeze him slightly, “Do that again.” 

He speeds up, catching your lips as your hips meeting quicker, the only sound in the room being your skin slapping each others. You slip one of your hands between the two of you, your nimble fingers rubbing your clit. 

“Where have you been all my life?” You can’t help the pleasurable giggle that escapes your lips. 

“Feel so good, H.” 

After a few more thrusts, a couple more circles of her clit and she’s comes around his cock, squeezing him tightly as she did so. 

“Fuck, shit, oh god.” 

He continues to thrust in and out of you, coaxing you through your orgasm and towards his. He seems to go deeper and deeper until he’s spilling inside the condom, his moans louder than any you had heard before. 

“God.” He collapses on top of you, taking a few seconds to collect himself and let you collect yourself, “Haven’t felt like that in a long time.” 

“Glad I could be of some assistance.” You push the hair that had matted to your face off. 

“You should keep secrets from me more often.’ 

“I’m never doing that again.” 

“Good.” He pecks your lips. 

[jeanmoreaux]

Do you consider listening to audiobooks as reading? I personally don’t because reading a book requires your attention on the pages and the words while with audiobooks, you can listen to them while doing other tasks like driving, walking, painting, cleaning etc. What are your thoughts on this?

oh, i believe listening to audiobooks is reading too! for example, i am commuting by public transport so i can focus all my attention on an audiobook. i get everything out of the experience/language except seeing the words spelled out (instead i get the pronunciation). personally, i also only listen to audiobooks when i have enough capacity to actually follow the story. like, otherwise what would be the point, right? :') i think attention (in the neuropsychological sense) has something to do with the processing depth of language, and reading words on a page definitely makes it more likely that you're paying attention, but if we consider that similar amount of attention is giving to listening to an audiobook they can both be considered "reading", or more precisely language processing.

((little fun fact about me: i wrote my bachelor thesis in neuropsychology on gamma band activity and top-down modulations in higher-order speech comprehension and how they influence intelligibility.)) language processing for written and spoken language basically show the same patterns of brain activity (on a neuronal and functional connectivity level (x, x) and frequency level (x)). there is some evidence that there might be subtle differences in activity, but most of them are not found in language processing but in modality processing (x) (i.e. when you read the visual cortex will show more activation than when you listen to speech // when you're listening to speech the auditory cortex will show more activation that when you read -> different modalities are processed in different areas of the brain but if the signal is recognised as language—written or spoken—higher-order language comprehension happens roughly in the same brain areas) ((this might be a tangent, but we also know that even while reading silently the auditory cortex (and speech motor areas) shows activity (a little less for english than languages that are written more phonetically), so it's actually quite hard to fully exclude the auditory aspects of language processing when talking about reading (x). and if you think about it, that makes sense. i mean how do we learn language? by listening to other people using language, not by reading it. we listen and speak language before we learn to read and write it. so the language processing you acquire and use for any kind of language processing is rooted in spoken language. consequently, the language processing that helps you understand written language is the neuronal language processing system you acquired by listening to spoken language.))

so when you listen to an audiobook and you're able to understand and follow the story you're basically exhibiting the same activity patterns as you would when you're reading the story on a page (with different/unique modality specific activity). there is also evidence that listening to audiobooks helps you develop the same language skills as reading (minus the orthography aspect) but i can't find that paper right now (might add it here later). ofc there can be other factors that might make one or the other more accessible or enjoyable for individuals. depending on e.g. attention and if you can concentrate on written language better than spoken language bc it require more immediate engagement (bc you have to keep your eyes on the page and are basically "forced" to retain your attention on the page -> your thoughts can't drift off as easily). all in all i think you have to decide for yourself whether audiobooks are the same as reading to you. on a neuronal level you can certainly make the case for it (under the right circumstances).