#reading the book now I’m able to love what it displays with (slightly less) possessive desperation

[herbofgraceandpeace]

Finally starting my October reread of Pamela Dean’s Tam Lin, and all I can say is thank goodness I didn’t read this book before going to college, not just cause I wouldn’t have understood it, but also because boy would I have had my expectations of college disappointed

[pinkchanelbag]

— there’s no one else; chapter two. 

a jean kirstein x reader mafia au.

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series summary: a boy caught in a web with his survival depending on balancing niceties between his predators. a prim girl on thin ice that leads down the path of least resistance. no one too close and no one too far, no allegiance unquestioned, and no child whose value and future goes without evaluation like a playing card that determines their worth. to be destined for big things is more like being doomed to them, but that’s the way it goes. it’s just family matter.

chapter summary: the party begins.

wc: 1.9k.

cw: still nothing lol

note: putting this out short notice cause it’s JEANBOYS BIRTHDAYYY BABYYY anyway enjoy heeheee and my apologies for the slow plot thus far i swear it picks up trust me bro.

the venue is obnoxiously grand. the garden is more akin to a football field than anything else. there is no central lighting, but rather pure white string lights everywhere, everywhere. tucked behind and underneath tables and wrapped around trees and laying in the overhead greenery and in the bushes that act as walls. wherever you look, your eyes are strained, and you’re sure the dining hall can be seen from the moon.��

speaking of the dining hall, the organizers cleverly blocked off the front entrance to the building so that one is forced to walk the expanse of the entire garden—surely to ooh and aah at its elegant taste—in order to get inside through the back door entrance. in other words, having to greet every single member of the family before so much as putting your clutch down. 

you apply a friendly, attentive expression to your face each time pieck stops to greet someone new, having mastered the art of being engaged but not so engaged it’s troublesome, while in reality being completely disengaged in any way. as pieck converses with a bulky man drinking wine and you pick apart the key points (“we don’t got the ammo to make deals with top contractors—legal team in shambles—not good to have a weak spot”), really you are letting your eyes wander over the shrubbery which has been trimmed to perfection. yes, the lights are a pain and the band is too loud so early in the event, and there is not enough walking space between the bushes so people squeeze together to reach the large clearing of the garden. a perfectly obnoxious party, except you can’t help but appreciate the greenery. somehow, it is the only thing about this evening that doesn’t seem ridiculous. or maybe you’re just unusually irritated tonight. 

your eyebrows knit so slightly at this realization. why are you being so disagreeable? impatience and intolerance seem to grow in your chest for no particular reason. you make a note to identify the source of your mood, and quickly resolve it. there’s work to be done.

karina braun is a kind, opinionated sheep of a woman. she is liked by all, and not because she’s particularly easy to like, but rather because she’s hard to hate. stuck in her times and not having much intellectual value, she is possibly the most important woman in all the families. being the mother of reiner braun and the head of the braun-galliard family, gives her luxury without responsibility. you’ve only met her once before, and she possessed the kind of ignorance many privileged older women have. but still she’s kind, so you can’t justify how she makes you weary. 

her birthday, funnily enough, constitutes one of the very few gatherings that frowns upon trying to discuss family matter during the events, unlike a young girl’s birthday. it has to do with respect, you suppose. 

you spend your first half-hour at the party hovering around pieck as she makes small talk with associates, becoming increasingly nervous at your lack of breakthrough in communication with the family. you know the most important thing is your encounter with karina, and that will open up further talks with others, but you stall to approach her, imperceptibly steering pieck further away from the centre table where the older woman sits. not yet. 

“are you going to keep leading me through the same semi-circle, or are you just going to go talk to her?” pieck asks calmly. you curse her intelligence in your mind. 

“i’m just nervous,” you murmur, smiling politely at a group of men at a distance that eyes you like the business deal you are. 

“you should be, but that doesn’t change that you have to do it.” your eyes flick to look at the woman beside you for a moment. her expression is not encouraging or consoling, nor is it unsettling. it’s fitting. what you and pieck have is less than friendship but more than acquaintanceship. often you feel as thought she’s reading your emotions like an open book, which can be scary considering how many of them you really hide. but if and when she sees them, she doesn’t seem to care, whether they’re incriminating or worthy of sympathy. she sees you, and that is all. it’s not a comfort, nor a curse. 

“what are you waiting for?” she says, but it’s a genuine question rather than a push to complete the task at hand. you realize you’re waiting for porco. you want porco at your side. you want his strength and his jagged-edged ambition, and the forcefulness that makes you do the things your heart has no energy for.

“i just think it would be better if the boys were here,” you breathe. again, pieck sees your meaning, and your fright, and leaves it be. 

for the next eternity, you drink champagne and stretch back your memory to know if all parties are this boring once you become an adult, or if the braun family has a particular talent for making you crave the sight of paint drying. the closest thing to entertainment—and not the hired folk who attempt to call themselves singers—is gabi’s voice, which can be heard no matter where in the garden you stand. she tells stories, strikes up arguments, and gathers food and drink with her friends, all at top volume. for some reason, you don’t find amusement in this either, and really start to worry about this attitude problem you’ve got this night. to add on, porco’s meeting seems to stretch painfully long. it was a short-notice meeting, which either meant something very very good or very very bad—more so when he told you he was being picked up for it by reiner, colt, and annie. some of the most important family members gathering for an emergency meeting means trouble. your anxiety bubbles in your stomach, and you worry that your not approaching the woman of the hour is reaching a point where it might be seen as—rude. 

the guests are alerted that dinner is ready. it’s not long before each person has situated themselves along the tables that line the large garden. the seating plan is loosely maintained, but you have nowhere near the entitlement to mingle among other tables. you find yours and stay at it, and it’s only then that you get an idea of just how many people are at this event. each table is packed, holding roughly six people, and there are too many to count in the chaos, but they create a semi-rectangle in three respective rows. you make out countless bodies but few faces, just an endless sea of tuxedos and lovely dresses. at the front of the garden is the head table, where karina sits alone save gabi’s bouncing body going back and forth. your table is is only a few feet from hers, but you take a seat that puts your back to her front so you don’t make the unforgivable mistake of accidental eye contact. you’re to sit with porco, and his table—the galliard table—is the one closest in importance to the braun table. you are the only one at the table, further reminder of porco’s tardiness. the longer you fiddle with the white cloth on the surface, the more you worry about what exactly the meeting could mean. 

and then pieck comes and sits across from you without a word. as always, you know it’s only family matter—the concern that you look out of place—motivating her and not your obvious discomfort, but you’re grateful nonetheless. 

as the servers stream into the garden like white-clad troops armed with dome platters, a champagne glass’s unmistakeable ding ding ding catches the attention of the guests. a table near karina’s opposite side, not quite flanking her but near enough to display some importance. a man stands with his glass raised, looking unfitting for the position with the way his arm hesitantly dips and re-straightens. bertholdt, yet another notable name in braun-galliard (and it’s your job to know all the names), seems to be the only person around able to give the welcome speech. it’s easy to listen only selectively to the announcements and shoutouts, disregarding all the thank yous and remember whens and listening in for honored guests (who are honored because they’ve proven themselves useful). luckily for you, bertholdt’s clumsy speech has a clear distinction between the two categories, his eyes downturned to cards in which he lists off important guests and whatever thing they did to end up on he list before him. 

“a special welcome to general theo magath of the mexican military, who has been so generous to the family’s trade routes…” bertholdt’s words are careful, partly because of the nature of the things he is sharing, but also because all his actions have been careful since his fall from grace. formerly one of the most reliable heavy men in the family, bertholdt’s reputation was shot to hell when an important—very important—family member was killed on his watch. despite having happened years and years ago now, it took extensive efforts to just convince the higher-ups that he wasn’t in bed with the killer. it’s common knowledge that bertholdt’s incident was the first and last time someone “had it easy” from braun-galliard due to his close friendship with reiner himself. 

“an especially relieving guest to see here tonight—“ 

and—finally—the stragglers stalk into the clearing. like most others, you hear of their arrival from the ripple of murmurs long before you see them, seeing as their whereabouts are blocked off by tables and bushes. a few people stand up, but are quickly beckoned to sit down again and redirect their attention to the speaker, who clears his throat nervously. 

“carry on, bertholdt,” reiner’s affecting voice breaks through the space, and it’s enough to settle the audience, or at least have them pretend to pay attention while the late-comers shuffle through the outskirts of the tables to find their seats. bertholdt proceeds slowly. 

“…a person i’m sure we will all come to rely on during this chaotic time…”

you catch the first glimpse of porco as he turns the final corner of the rectangle, reiner walking before him and colt and annie just behind. reiner is the first to arrive to his table, the invitees seeming to hold their chests a little taller for the family’s true head—in every way except on paper—as he slides into his seat and presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek. 

“…a great legacy behind him and a bright career ahead, and we’re surely glad he’s kicked it off in our company…” bertholdt goes on. you and porco’s eyes meet, and immediately you know something is the matter; you’re just not sure if it’s fury or ecstasy in his gleam. 

colt and annie find their seats in the table just after yours, and finally porco is near enough to see—and ignore—the look of alarmed curiosity on your face. he arrives to the table, giving pieck a look of “we’ll talk later,” and briefly stopping behind your chair. his calloused hands are on your arms for a moment, running up and down comfortingly. 

“—a happy welcome to—“

“hey, doll.”

“—jean kirstein.” 

and your eyes flick away from porco’s and into the crowd of faceless bodies, and the anxieties that kept your brain buzzing with life halt and collapse to the floor of your mind like dead flies.

jean? 

[pars-ley]

Your eyes tell

Pairing: Prince Jungkook x Female Reader

Summary: When your best friend’s a prince and inherits the throne, he needs to find a wife to rule alongside him as Queen, you’re more than happy to help him choose an eligible bachelorette. But what happens when you, who only wants to marry for love, are forced to be one of the participants?  

Rating: (SFW) 13+

Genre: Royal au / Arranged marriage au / Angst / Fluff / Unrequited love

Word Count: 6400

Warnings: Serious angst. It will make you sick.

Prompts: Everything makes sense when you’re by my side. + I didn’t believe in love, not until I met you.

A/N: This is for the Golden Closet Network’s ‘Jungkook Birthday Project’ I stepped out of my comfort zone for this one, so hopefully it paid off. It’s from their two different perspectives. Italic font is Jungkook, normal font is reader. A big shout and a hell of a lot of thanks to @wheresmymoniat​ for helping me endlessly, especially through some serious writers block with the ending. She’s a darling.

Banner: @yeojaa​ honestly, she’s a goddess who went above and beyond to help me with this when I was struggling and offered out of the kindness of her heart, she also made the break lines for me cause she’s the BEST💕😘! 

Beta reader: @papillonsgf​ 😘

Meet Prince Jungkook...

As you hear the announcement escape his mouth, like a 'breaking news' headline silently screaming at you from behind bold, black print, all you can do is stare. The calmness in his voice, unmatched to his words echoing around in your mind, bouncing off the emptiness that has overcome you.

Your eyes sweep over him, the dark circles hanging heavy under his eyes, the exhaustion etched in his handsome face and the anxiety that rolls off him in waves.

A pain in your chest pulls at your emotions, a direct line to your heart just for him. Your body flung itself at him before you had time to register the action.

His arms curl around your waist, squeezing you, keeping you locked in place. His fingers digging into your back, making your anxiety for him creep up into your throat. You try to swallow it down, wanting to be strong for him but your mouth is suddenly without moisture

Your best friend is going to be King of Kalinia, that much you knew and that’s what is expected of a Prince but not now, not yet. 

All you can do is stand there, unmoving while he relays the details of his father's illness and his decision to step down from the throne. Meaning, all of it falling onto Jungkook’s shoulders. 

How could he bear all that weight on his own? Any normal man would crumble.

However, he is not any normal man, he is strong, determined, loyal, generous and one of the kindest men you know. But seeing him now, a shadow of all you know he is, you want to take it all away and harbour the load yourself, just to give him his freedom a little bit longer. 

The studying and travelling he’s been doing, all that now comes to an immediate halt, just as he had started to live his own life, it all comes crashing down around him. 

It’s your job to pick up the pieces and you’re more than happy to assume that role but it also means that your plans for travelling would have to be put on hold too. 

Your arrangement had been to meet Jungkook in Italy and travel around Europe together over the course of 2 months before returning to continue studies, but the idea of visiting these places alone, without him by your side, now seems a lot less appealing.

His slightly painful grip on your back, fingernails desperately digging in to provide some kind of anchorage for him, pulls you back into the present.

"Hey," you lean away so you can cradle his face in your hands. "It's just me right now, you can be honest. You don't have to pretend with me."

His wide eyes seem to tremble as they meet yours. "I just wasn't expecting this so soon." His voice interrupts the silence, slicing through it like a knife straight into your gut at his words. “I don't feel...ready for this. I thought I’d have more time to prepare and now, I have to find a wife. A WIFE!” 

The sorrow and anguish that fill his eyes overwhelm you with a heaviness in your chest, your pumping organ sinking like a rock to the pit of your stomach. But your mind is frozen, stuck on those last words you hear them rattling, echoing around in your mind, crashing against any thoughts you had like giant waves against rock. Wife? WIFE!

The ascending King cannot rule without a Queen by his side. That is the law of your country and the way it’s always been. You knew this, so why do you feel this way? How exactly do you feel? Sick. Panicked. Sombre. All of the above maybe? You just feel for the hardships that your friend is facing, that’s all it is, you tell yourself.

“I know, I know this has come as a shock but let me tell you, you’re meant to be King and you’re ready, even if you don’t feel like it. I have complete faith in you, Kook and I’ll be here every step of the way. I’ll even help you choose the right...wife.” You hesitate slightly, the words tasting like ash in your mouth.

He pulls you to him again. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Well, after he’s married and King, he’ll have to do without you. There'll be someone new to take care of him and do all the things you do together; to comfort him like this, to spend evenings star gazing and staring at the moon, to pick flowers in the Queen’s garden and have secret picnics in the meadows off grounds.

All of these moments with him won’t exist anymore. 

You feel empty at the thought. Almost as if someone reached inside and stole the most vital parts of you and put them on display behind an inaccessible, glass cage to watch beating and working without you.

As you cling to him, fingers gripped in his hair, cheek resting atop of his head, cradling him like your most precious possession, a tear escapes.

Your friend is slipping through your fingers, down into the depths of a world you won’t be able to follow and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You will lose him, that much you are sure of.

You glance over, her expression a smooth and flawless mask, never giving anything away. But you know her well enough to know that something has changed. She has not been the same since you revealed the news of your new-to-be title three weeks ago. 

Her usual brilliant, almost blinding light had dimmed into a burnt out candle, flickering on the last threads of its wick. No matter what you say to her she just smiles and says ‘I’m fine’. You might be clueless but you are determined to discover what’s changed.

As you sit here, discussing who, out of the fourteen eligible bachelorettes in the Kingdom, is most suited for being your future wife and Queen, you can’t help but find yourself thinking of only one. 

The one you wish you could have, the one you’d give anything to spend the rest of your days with but is the one who would never see you in such a way. 

As she sits across from you, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her delicate fingers tracing down her neck. God, how you longed for it to be you caressing her so tenderly, to be able to hold her and tell her what she means to you, to have her by your side instead of these paper faces staring up at you waiting for paper rings. All of them from good families, smart, pretty, the perfect persona for the outside world to see but completely and utterly tedious to you. There wasn’t a single thing written in this bleak print that held your interest even a fraction of the way y/n could. 

“Your majesty?” An indistinct voice snaps you out of your trance.

Her eyes flash up to meet yours and you look away quickly, hoping no one has noticed your forlorn stare at the true object of your affection.

“Yes?” You reply, trying to seem present in the room discussing your future as if you weren’t even here.

“Who are you choosing, your majesty?” An advisor asks nervously.

Her. Always her. A thousand times over. In this life and the next and any other after that may follow. 

“We need a final three, so we can move on to the next round of tests.”

Round? Tests? This was your life and here it is being discussed as if it were a gameshow. 

Your stomach twists, fear rises in your throat making it feel tight. You take a gulp of water, allowing the coolness to sooth you, and look at the sheets placed in front of you. The faces blurring along with the writing. 

“Y/n, what are your opinions?” You ask, genuinely curious who she’d pick for you. 

She’d choose someone who was strong enough to rule but also sensitive enough to be a decent match for you and that was all you could hope for at this point, a decent match. The three words everyone aspires to describe their life partner.

You wait with baited breath for her response, somewhere deep down in the pits of your heart where hope was long ago locked away and buried beneath years of friendly rubble, it makes an alarming surprise visit, breaking through the debris with ease. You cling to the book of secrets that’s been held captive there in a vault created from torment and in the dark corners you’re on your knees, praying to a god you don’t think will listen. Praying you hear her utter all the impossible things you know she never will. The desperation inside you, clawing to escape out of the refined, solid cage you built, you’re clenched fists under the table fighting to keep it down along with your breakfast.

Everything stills and slowly starts to wither away back to its original place, the place where it belongs, when she nonchalantly reads off three names...none of them hers.

"You've been ordered to participate y/n." The royal adviser informs you, his words ringing like high-pitched sirens in your ears. 

"I'm sorry, ordered by whom?" You frown, not understanding, the very idea of what he’s suggesting baffling your mind.

He sighs awkwardly, it’s obvious he did not want to be the one standing in front of you with your hot molten glare on him.

"Who gave the order?” You persist, when his silence is the only response you receive.  

He looks down, away from your blazing eyes. “Her majesty, the Queen.”

You freeze, the ground feeling as if it would break away under your feet. What!? Why would she force you to participate in this? She knows you do not want to be Jungkook’s wife and that he would not want you to be his? 

This makes no sense. You’ve always had such a lovely relationship with his parents. When you befriended Jungkook, they welcomed you in with open arms and loving smiles, encouraged your friendship and supported you with every decision along the way, so why do this? 

“I need to speak with her majesty.” You say through gritted teeth, not only from anger but your attempt at trying to keep down the bile you can feel burning your throat like lava.

He gives you a sharp nod and leads you to her quarters, not that you needed to be shown, you know this castle like the back of your hand, everything in it was both familiar and safe. 

As he announces you, you swallow, desperate to wet your dry throat pinching the air that passes with every breath. You hold back your cough in favour of clearing your throat, hoping to relieve the desert patch you feel, gravel grazing your insides down into the pit of your stomach.

When you enter she greets you with a broad, bright smile, a smile that contrasts so drastically to how you feel and, for once, you can’t bear to return it.

Her face drops slightly, but you see a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that makes your blood boil hot and irate in your veins. “Oh y/n, don’t pout, it doesn’t suit you.” She pats the seat next to her on her plush ornate sofa where she resides and places her book on the table in front.

You close the distance between you and sit rather woodenly at her side.

“The rules are the rules y/n, it’s nothing personal but I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I treated you differently. You know that.” Her eyes are so honest, a window right into her soul, lighting up and giving you a glimpse as to what it’s like to play her role. 

“But I can’t be his wife!” You exclaim. “He would never want me that way.” You urge, shaking your head at the sheer hilarity of the idea.

You’re met with a poker straight stare, unmoving, her skin still smooth after all these years, unreadable and hard as stone. Picture perfect, a royal portrait ready to be framed with gold. “If that’s the case, what are you worried about?”

You open your mouth to respond but the words are squeezed around your panic induced, contracting throat. Your words seem far away, as you grapple desperately for them.

She places a gentle hand on your knee, the touch calming you instantly. "Y/n listen to me, I know this whole situation has come as a shock to you and to Jungkook, believe me it's still processing for the King and I, but this is our life, however unfortunate, we have a duty. Now, you are not bound to this life by any means, but participating in this is your duty." 

She watches you for a moment, her intense gaze making you shift in your seat, as if she was seeing straight into you, everything you held laid bare for her own personal exhibit. "I know it’s hard, the idea that someone will take your place at his side, but he needs a wife and we know you don't want it to be you." Her piercing eyes driving a quick, sharp needle into yours, you look away unable to hold her intruding stare.

"Of course not." You retort with a snort.

She sits back on her sofa, her posture softening, relaxing against the cushioned back. She smiles staring at her hands placed in her lap, as if amused by an inside joke you're not privy to.

"You need to start listening to your heart more than your head, y/n, it will save you a lot of heartbreak in the future." 

Perplexed by this unexpected turn in conversation you find yourself frowning. "What do you mean?" 

Kindness stretching her mouth into a friendly curve. "My child, it seems I know you better than you know yourself. Your eyes tell."

"Tell what?" You shake your head trying to clear the mud in your mind, making her words impossible to understand.

"Everything." She sighs and stands. "I'm afraid I cannot get you out of this but as you said, you know he won't choose you, so there's no need to panic, is there?" 

She saunters gracefully out of the room leaving you with only your bewildered thoughts.

There's a double meaning in her last words but you struggle to determine what it could be.

And how would she know you better than you do? There's a hint of anxiety at what she saw in your eyes, at what you'd apparently given away to her. Your thoughts race, unable to connect her words to your reasoning and you leave the room feeling more frustrated and perplexed than when you entered.

You lean over the pages of the final women you have to choose from, head down eyes unwavering from the same spot you’ve been looking at for what feels like a lifetime. You’ve gone from three possible wives to four, the latter you’re sure if you take your eyes off the page it will disappear before you. 

Can this be real? Did she agree to this? Did she nominate herself to take part? Hope blossoms dangerously in your chest, flowering around your heart, encasing it in a prison of promise. A prison you’re creating, you know it but cannot stop. Your thoughts run away with you, visions of your dreams becoming reality within your grasp. 

You and her sneaking off grounds for picnics and play dates in the sun, trekking through the forest and taking the row boat out around the river bend, travelling to Paris and visiting the Notre Dame; somewhere she’s always wanted to go, the two of you snapping your own love lock on a branch of a tree with your initials entwined together and throwing away the keys in a nearby river. All the hopeless romantic things you’ve wanted to do, becoming a possibility, the excitement causing butterflies to fly rampantly in your stomach.

You push your chair out, finding your feet and rushing out of the room to find her. 

As you parade down the golden ornate halls, feeling as though you’re being carried by eagles wings, floating across the grounds being pulled in her direction. Her face; the only thing guiding your vision, maybe cupid’s arrow finally aimed in the direction you were hoping for, maybe god finally heard you. 

You find her by the fountains, her favourite place here, sitting staring at the water as if it holds the answers to all life’s problems. She hears your approach, her eyes snapping up to yours before quickly looking away to hide the tears you’ve already seen and brushing her face with her sleeve. 

You step down off the wings, coming crashing back down to earth, the butterflies turning to acid in your stomach and tasting it in your mouth as you rush to her side. Pulling her against you, wrapping her up in a cocoon of comfort and love. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Tell me.” You urge, panic tightening your gut, squeezing your insides in a vice. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen. I’ve been forced to participate in your bride-to-be pageant.” She spits bitter words aimed at you, hope clams up and collapses inside you. 

You realise how foolish you’d been to let yourself believe that she could want this like you crave, that she could see you anything like how you admire her, that she could feel for you the way you worship her. Your heart feels heavy, sinking in your chest and resting in the loveless hole gaping open, revealing your insides. The dullness overtakes you, seizing your limbs one by one, you’re unable to listen to the words she angrily ranting. A cloud of darkness swallowing you whole and you gladly take it by the hand, allowing it to draw you in. Maybe you’d forget if you stayed in there, in the dark. Maybe you’d forget about her if you just gave yourself the chance. 

She doesn’t want this, she doesn’t want you, that much is clear. So how can you choose her? Even if that is what you truly and honestly desire more than anything. You could not put her through that. She deserves to feel the way you do about someone, even if that person can’t be you, she deserves it, she deserves love. It was time to release her, to let her go. 

The thought had tears prick in your eyes, you quickly blink them away. 

“You don’t have to worry Y/n, it’s just a formal procedure. I won’t choose you, you’re off the hook.” The words leave you quickly, before you change your mind and sound like they belong to someone else. You would never say them, would you?

She pauses and looks up at you, her tear stained cheeks; you itched to reach out and wipe the shiny, salty trails away but you clench your hand into a fist to stop yourself. “You won’t?” She asks in disbelief.

“Of course not.” You try to give her a reassuring smile but it feels false, painted on like the many royal portraits you grew up staring at.

She stares back out at the fountain, back stiff against you. Your arms fall loosely away from her. “Oh, well, that’s a relief.” She sighs and yet, her reaction perplexes you. You thought she’d seem happier, instead she just seems blank. 

“Hey, chin up.” You nudge her jaw with your fist, a friendly gesture you had done many times. When she arches away from it, the action makes your insides twist, unable to understand. 

What have you done wrong? You couldn't win, nothing seemed like the right decision anymore.

Why did she seem to be slipping further and further away from you? Even though she sat right next to you, your arms lightly touching at the proximity, she had never felt further away from you. Just out of reach of your grasp.

He had spoken the words you hoped for and yet, you couldn't describe this overwhelming feeling that had draped over you almost instantly, like a blanket of despair. It has enveloped you more and more over the passing weeks.

As you watch him and her, his chosen bride, from your perch of loneliness you felt annoyance grow inside you. You're his friend, his best friend, you should be happy if he's happy. 

You watch him smile at her, occasionally he might take her hand in his or tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Things he used to do with you, but it seems different with her, more intimate. And yet it’s funny how you know neither of them have romantic feelings for one another, it's all a façade, it’s all forced. 

Why would anyone want to live like that? A loveless marriage. You couldn't wrap your head around the concept.

Was she so desperate to become queen? It's not like she has much of a choice though, those of you within certain households, certain names and certain social standing had a duty. It has been drummed into you since you can remember. That had only acted to make you more determined not to live like that.

You were free, he'd told you himself and yet you couldn't help but sit here; consumed by hopelessness.

Not for yourself surely, but for him. He now had to live the life you dread.

Maybe you should have said you'd marry him, put your selfishness aside and given him a friend in marriage instead of a stranger but it was too late now. Any hope of saving him was out of your reach, all you could do was watch as he made the biggest mistake of his life.

He should be with someone who knows when he's upset just by the look in his wide eyes, who knows each crease in his face when it crinkles when he smiles, who knows each line of his secret tattoos he always keeps hidden. He needs someone he can be himself with, someone who would do anything to see him happy, someone who would do everything to protect him and keep him safe. Someone he can have adventures with as well as make tough decisions with, someone who will bear him beautiful children and raise them to be just as loving and kind as him. He deserves all that and more. 

Miss what's-her-name will never be able to give him that. She'll never be good enough. She'll never know what he wants or needs, not like you would.

You know him better than anyone. You could make him happy. So why wouldn't he pick you?

If he's not choosing for love why wouldn't you be first choice, surely that's obvious. Then again, why should you want him to choose you? 

You were free to marry whoever you wanted. So, why now did the thought of Jungkook marrying her weigh you down with a rock in your gut, consuming you, making it impossible for you to move without thinking of anything other than her being with him. Touching him. Possibly loving him. Being his wife and her stomach being full with his children. 

Why did it burn you so much you could hardly breath? Clawing for air with ragged breaths, you had to uproot your feet from their planted spot and go. Go anywhere the sickening sight of them wasn't, the last image of them walking through the palace gardens hand in hand was enough to overflow the salty dam in your eyes, crumbling with your resolve to hold it in. Your realisation, as you turn away from him, hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

The blanket of night that had been covering you - concealing you from the light, from the truth, had finally been lifted. 

How could you not have seen it? 

How could you not have known?

The way he could make you smile through anything, or the way your stomach fluttered sometimes in his presence, or the way he knew you better than anyone and always seemed to know what you were thinking. 

He was your glowing, peaceful moon lighting up the dark sky.  The colourful morning sunrise, warming the chill of the night. The roots of your tree, keeping you grounded and yet the bright blossoms in the field bringing you comfort. 

After all these years...you finally understood.

You tuck a stray strand of hair behind Charlotte’s ear, the action almost mechanical, something you should do as opposed to something you want to. 

With y/n it was an excuse to feel her skin against your fingers, a chance to give her a caring caress and a subtle way to show her how you care. It fell on deaf ears or blind eyes, rather. All your efforts to show her your feelings, to attempt to get her to notice your heart, wide open and ready for the taking, went unnoticed. Maybe you should have uttered the words into her ear one day, laying in the meadow, basking under the sun.

But you didn’t. 

You’ve made your decision. It’s Charlotte. She is to be your wife and your queen. 

Perhaps, one day, you might feel something more deeply than the awkward discomfort making your toes curl. After all, tomorrow you will be standing in the palace with an audience and a live broadcast as you announce your bride and their queen to be. 

It's your duty, there's no escaping it, you know this. And yet, your chest is weighed down, tight with an anchor pulling you underwater as you fight and kick against the waves of emotions crashing against you. Clawing your way to the surface and fighting for breath as hopelessness fills your lungs. The box your heart was kept in for her, now feels like an empty cage. Hollow. She left, not physically but in spirit, and took your beating organ with her, the life slowly draining in her absence.

But here you are still standing, unable to give up and let go. 

You had to. You needed to move on and away from her, perhaps one day you'll be able to stop picturing her face, hearing her laugh or the smell of her skin.

Your agonising thoughts running rampant in your mind made you want to scream up at the sky. At a god you were rapidly losing faith in.

You needed to be alone and get yourself together. 

You made your excuses, apologising to your fiancé - an invisible noose around your neck pulling tight from the very thought of who she was to you and who she would be for the rest of your life - and left, albeit rather abruptly. 

Rushing to the stables and guiding your horse out of palace grounds, racing away from decision making and royal duty.

The wind against your face, cool air relentless as you speed across fields but cooling your burning skin, ablaze with frustration. The sound of hooves thundering against the ground seem to echo out around you in otherworldly quiet, giving away your position to everyone. 

They'll search for you soon, you know this but you just need to breathe. You need to feel your lungs expanding and shrinking on their own, moving how they should, without barbed wire squeezing around them, digging in with every draw in of air and stopping you short. 

You needed a last moment of freedom, before the tight noose of your responsibilities squeezed around your neck and choked you.

Your breathing came hard and harsh as you pushed your horse as fast as he could go, until the meadow came into view, your meadow and hers. You'd ended up here, again. This special place, holding so many memories.

You climb off your horse and sink down into the grass, each blade a page of remembrance tying the two of you together. A bond you thought indestructible and yet, here you are desperately clinging onto her in fistfuls of grass.

You understood, your life is on the cusp of changing forever, no going back, it's a life she cannot be a part of in the same way. Of course she'd want to move away from it all, if you could…it's irrelevant because you can't.

Duty to country before anything and everything else. Being a good ruler should be your main concern right now. And yet, you are plagued with the thought…'what if i had told her?' 

What if.

Would it have made any difference? Probably not.

Would your friendship have been ruined? Probably.

But at least, if you had been brave enough to utter the words, even once, then you wouldn't feel as incomplete as you do right now. On your knees, gripping onto the turf as if to hold you in place, head against the ground and eyes squeezed shut.

If there's one last thing you should say, even to unburden yourself after all these years and remove the heavy shawl of emotion that’s been draped across your shoulders, weighing you down, it should be your truth. Finally.

Not for any expectation of reciprocation but to know that you did everything you could. No regrets when you look back at the choice you've had to make.

Just the truth.

The horse was already moving as you had one foot in the rung of the saddle and the other straddling across it. 

"Jungkook's missing." The words from the royal advisor replay anxiously in your head, making your heart pound violently against your ribs, playing its own panicked score.

He left the palace hours ago on his horse and hasn't been seen since. The way your gut twists at the direction your thoughts take has your fists clenched painfully around the reigns.

You bolt out of the palace gates, hoping you know exactly where he'll be. 

Trees whip past you at alarming speed but you dare not slow down. You need him to be ok. You need him to hear what you have to say. You need him.

Scanning the distance frantically, looking for the break in the trees, revealing the meadow, your heart almost stops when your eyes finally land upon it. 

You spot his horse first, then see his hunched figure leaning over in the grass and fear takes your heart and locks it in a vice grip so painful tears fill your wild eyes.

You're already climbing off before the hooves have stilled.

"Jungkook!" You hear his name in a strangled scream and realise it's you the distraught voice has escaped from.

As you sprint in his direction, he sits straight up, surprised eyes shooting up to you and relief washes over you like rough waves crashing against the shore.

Your body collides heavily with his, a thump sounding out all around you into the usually calming silence. The air leaves his lungs in a hiss as he's flung backwards to the ground. 

You squeeze your arms around him, holding him so close and so tight, frightened he'll be carried off into the wind like the seeds from the dandelion puff balls surrounding you.

His arms hesitantly wrap around your waist as if worried you'll break. 

You pull yourself back to look at his beautiful face, to make sure he's ok and in one piece but the shock that widens his doe-like eyes momentarily distracts you.

"Y/n, what's wrong!?" He fusses, wiping softly at your tear trails with gentle thumbs. Cradling your face in his hands, worry lines wrinkling his forehead as if he has reason to worry about you.

Hot tears fall fervently from your eyes, unable to be stopped. You smile at him, tracing his smooth cheekbones and sharp jawline with your fingers. 

Seeing him and looking into his eyes in this moment, it's undeniable your heart belongs to him.

How you never realised is truly mind blowing, it's so obvious now, all your confusing thoughts and feelings towards this entire situation suddenly made clear. 

Overwhelmed to the point your chest is so full of him it feels ready to burst, sprinkling your special place with heart-shaped confetti etched with his name. 

"I have to tell you something, before it's too late." You say taking a deep breath and straightening your back with determination, as you sit almost on his lap.

His worrying eyes search yours, frantically going from one to the other, trying to read you, trying to find answers to unasked questions.

"Over the past few weeks, I've been trying to understand...all of the memories we've made, and the places we've spent time together, they're very special to me, I hope you know that? I hold them very dear. And I was afraid of you having this other person to share them with and that i would be pushed out —"

"Y/n, I would never do that." He insisted, cupping your face in his hand. He means it too, it's written all over his face, your own personal scripture of truth.

"I know." You say softly, smiling and interrupting him before you lose your nerve to continue. "My point is, I thought it was the idea of being replaced by her that was bothering me so much but I realised something…I've been an absolute idiot." You laugh to yourself, feeling freer than ever. 

He stares back at you with bewildered amusement.

"It's never been where we were or what we did that made everything so special...it was you. You are the centre of it all. You're the person who knows me better than anyone. You're the one who makes me endlessly and purely happy. You make me feel safe and protected. You are...home. Everything makes sense when you’re by my side. Wherever you are, I want to be. Whether that be as your wife, your queen or just your friend...if your decision is still to be with Charlotte, I will support you throughout —"

"Wait, I'm confused. At the fountain the other day,  you were distraught at the idea of marrying me, you were relieved when I told you I wouldn't choose you?"

You look down at your hands that are now in your lap, ashamed you didn't realise then in that moment what is so clear to you now. 

"I didn't understand then. But I wasn't relieved, my heart felt like it was caving in on itself. I didn't want to be in the running because I never thought you'd choose me. I told myself I didn't want you to, I didn't want to be a part of it, when the actual truth of it is I wanted to be your only choice, not the best out of a bad bunch but I couldn't face the idea that you might not choose me."

You feel your cheeks tinge crimson from your words, feeling sheepish for your naivety. 

You peek up at him shyly through your lashes. He's frozen and wide eyed, staring at you curiously.

"So what exactly are you saying y/n? So I can understand this correctly." His quiet, breathy voice makes your heart pound faster and harder than ever. Each thrum vibrating through you with the sound of his name to accompany its beat.

You gulp loudly, digging deep for your last ounce of courage, to utter the words. To say them out loud makes it real, equally as the possibility of affirmation or rejection. You take another breath, your eyes meeting his, those pools of ebony you could so easily get lost in. "I'm in love with you."

The silence that follows is almost deafening as you prepare yourself for a sweet, gentle refusal. But you're perplexed when you see his perfect lips upturn and stretch, beaming at you like a ray of sunshine. He moves forward to you quickly, you lean in anticipating his next words. But when his lips crush against yours instead, it doesn’t register for a moment or two, you stiffen before your body's primal response takes over and your hands find their way up into his hair, skating your fingers through his silky locks.

The feel of his soft mouth on yours was undeniably alluring, pulling you in deeper with each movement of his lips. Your heart pounds frantic in your chest as the feel of his hands around your waist, holding you flush against him, your bodies moulded tight almost as one was enough to enthral you entirely. When he abruptly pulls back, you feel cold and needy. Your heart, now an open wound, seared by his kiss, bleeding love uncontrollably. 

He holds your face in his hands, foreheads touching and breathing heavy. “How I have longed to hear you say those words.” He whispers.

Your eyes bulge at his admission but as you open your mouth to speak, he lifts a finger against your lips to silence you. 

“I didn’t believe in love, not until I met you. I could only ever imagine a life and a marriage destined to be only friendly and passionless. But I have loved you since that first summer we met and I have wished everyday since for you to feel even a fraction of the way I do for you.” 

He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering gently on the skin of your neck. “Tell me again.” He pleads.

“I love you.” You lean forward and kiss him again. “I love you.” You utter the words between quick, desperate kisses causing him to groan against your mouth. His arm snakes around your waist and the ground leaves you, air breezing through your hair. You’re on your feet before you know it and your gaze is drawn downwards to him, in front of you, on one knee. 

He tightly grips your hand in both of his. “I have waited long enough for you. I saw a glimpse of a world without you by my side and it was monochrome and cold. I don’t want that. I want to see the colours when you look at me and smile so sweetly. I need to hear your laugh, my personal symphony. And if you would take my hand and walk the path into tomorrow and forever with me as my wife and my Queen, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make yours as colourful and joyous as mine will be. Marry me, please?”

You feel hot tears sting your eyes as happiness blooms deep in your chest. A bright orange tiger flower blossoming for him, a beacon of light and joy calling to you, showing you your rightful and chosen path. All these wasted years shall be no more and new ones accompanied by new memories await.

“Yes!”

[fanmoose12]

Sitting in the damp and cold cell, staring at a small glimpse of moon, visible from a tiny window up above her, Hange had no regrets. She held no blame towards the people of her own village, and she was not angry with them. She knew that they were ignorant and afraid, and it was their fear that led them to such cruelty.

In the end, if Hange was granted another chance in her life, she would have done it all again. Although, sitting there, reflecting on her life, she realized she wasn’t completely honest with herself. There was one thing she regretted – she didn’t get to see Levi one last time.

Hange quietly chuckled as she remembered the first time she met Levi. It was such a long time ago, she felt as though it happened in another life. But still, a wistful smile appeared on her lips, as she thought of her adorable demon friend.

Hange was strolling through the village’s market, desperately trying to find a merchant, who wouldn’t be afraid to look her in the eyes and who would agree to sell her some vegetables. Her own crops this year were less than satisfactory, as Hange had ignored them for most of the season, too preoccupied with the books she brought from her trip to the capital.

Hange groaned, as another merchant closed his stall right in front of her face. What was wrong with those people? So what, if Hange lived on the outskirts of the village, led a mostly solitary life and she was probably the only member of this community, who could read? It didn’t mean they had to be afraid of her. After all, she was nothing but kind to them, always trying to help and doing her best to cure any illnesses the villagers had possessed. And they let her help, but just as soon as they were healthy again, they turned their back on her once more, calling her a heretic and a witch.

It hurt Hange, but she tried not to show it. She understood, why they were like this, and she knew there was nothing she could to change their attitude towards her. Their hatred was rooted in years of living in poverty and fear, and they needed someone to blame. Their king was far away, and they couldn’t possibly hold any grudges towards God, so Hange had to suffer. And she was okay with it, most of the time, but still she wished they could at least sell to her some vegetables and meat. It wasn’t like she couldn’t pay them!

Hange leaned against a tree, wiping sweat from her face and lowering her basket. It was a rather hot day, and she was getting tired of mindlessly walking through the village, hoping that at least one merchant would be kind enough to sell her their goods. Or greedy enough, it wasn’t like Hange was picky.

A pair of children, playing on the other side of a street, attracted Hange’s attention. She looked at them more closely, squinting her eyes. Her eyesight was quite poor and one lens of her glasses was broken, but with her crops dying, Hange didn’t have the time to ride to the town and order a new pair. But another lens was in good condition, and as long as it helped her see, she didn’t mind that the other part was damaged.

The kids were discussing something in hushed tones, and, curious, Hange took a few steps closer, so she could hear what they were talking about.

“My pop just returned from his hunt,” one of the boys began. He was clearly the leader of their group, as the other children watched him intently, hanging onto his every word.

“Did he meet the werewolf again?” the girl asked, her voice a mixture of fear and excitement.

The boy shook his head. “Nah, it was something scarier this time. He said that he happened upon a big dark mansion, hidden in the woods,” the children around him gasped. Satisfied by their reaction, the boy smirked and continued. “Pop says that a demon is living here. He says he saw him – he was tall and had big pointy horns. He probably would have killed my dad, if he didn’t run away.”

Hange smiled, as she watched how children’s eyes widened in shock. However, she was also intrigued by the boy’s tale. She knew that werewolves and vampires weren’t real, they were just scary stories, made to frighten children and discourage young women from venturing through the forests at night, but demons? Of course, Hange had heard about them and she read books about them, but were they real? She couldn’t say.

With a wide, excited grin on her face, Hange turned around and headed back to her small hut. The groceries could wait, when there was a new discovery, waiting for her in a dark, dense forest.

 ***

As Hange moved through the forest, she barely managed to hide her excitement. She walked with a slight pounce to her step and she restricted herself from running, but only because she was trying to save up her energy. She didn’t know the exact location of the demon’s house after all, and she didn’t want to get lost in the woods. She didn’t dare to ask those children the whereabouts of a demon, and even if she did, she was sure they wouldn’t answer her. And they could tell their parents about her question, and if the villagers found out that she was curious about a demon, Hange would surely get called a witch and then she would never be able to buy anything in the market.  

And that was not something she was looking for, that’s for sure.

But even without outside assistance, soon Hange walked out to the clearing and saw a dark, big mansion. She wasted no time and swiftly ran up to it, squealing with joy, when the door turned out to be unlocked.

Hange threw the door open, took a step inside, and in the next moment she felt a strong, clawed hand circle around her neck, as her body was roughly pushed into the wall.

“Who are you?” someone hissed right in Hange’s face.

Hange blinked a few times and then squinted, trying to see her attacker in the darkness. But she saw no one, except a pair of bright blue eyes, which were staring quite angrily at her.

“I…I’m Hange!” she chuckled nervously. The hand around her throat was holding her rather tightly. “I live in the village near the woods!”

“You live in that village? So you must know about me, you must know who I am, right?” Hange cocked her head to the side, giving a figure in front of her another critical look. She still couldn’t see its shape, but the voice sounded almost human, although it was slightly tinted with something else, some echo, that reminded Hange of her books about dark magic. Could this creature be real? Was it an actual demon?

Hange must have ignored him for too long, because suddenly her neck was gripped tighter. “Yes, yes, I know who you are!” she answered immediately. She flailed her hands around, she knew she couldn’t possibly fight the creature in front of her, but Hange wanted to touch him, wanted to see if the rest of his body was as solid as the hand around her neck. To her surprise, her fingers came in contact with something sturdy, which almost felt like a horn… The creature instantly let go of her and took a few steps away.

“Don’t touch me, human!” he hissed.

“Alright, alright!” Hange raised her hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to!” So, it didn’t like to be touched, huh? Hange wondered if that was a demon thing or it was just a part of its personality. For some reason, she heavily suspected the later.

“So you’re actually a demon, huh?” Hange chuckled, looking at the blue eyes in front of her with excitement and curiosity.

“You do know what I am! Then why aren’t you screaming in fear? Why haven’t you run away?”

Hange shrugged. “I’m not afraid of you. Actually, I came here to seek you out.”

“I’m not making pacts with humans,” the demon answered her with audible distain.

“No, no, it’s not about that! I just wanted to get to know you! I’ve never actually met demons, and I was just curious if you were real. Besides, you live here all alone in that big mansion, don’t you get lonely?”

“Lonely?” the demon repeated in a quiet, disbelieving voice. His eyes stared at Hange, like she was crazy.

“Yeah, lonely!” she eagerly nodded. “I just thought that, well, you live alone, and I also live alone, then maybe, well, maybe we could become friends?”

“Friends? You want become friends? With a demon?”

“Yep,” Hange grinned.

“You’re insane,” the demon huffed.

“Oi, come on! It won’t be so bad, I’ll just come here every once in a while, chat with you for some time. It’ll be fun, you’ll love it, I promise!”

The demon sighed. “Why do I get a feeling that I don’t get to say no in this situation?”

“Oh, I didn’t know that demons can see future.”

“Tch,” the demon clicked his tongue. “Smartass.”

Sighing once more, the demon turned around and snapped his fingers. The darkness disappeared and Hange gasped, as the room became illuminated by a warm candlelight. She looked at the demon’s figure and she was surprised to see that it looked so much like a man. He was dressed like a man, too, and, looking at his rich dark blue suit, Hange felt slightly out of a place with her dirty, torn shirt and worn pants. But that feeling was quickly forgotten, as she continued to study her new friend. The boy back at the village obviously lied about the demon’s appearance. He wasn’t tall at all, and was probably shorter than Hange. She also couldn’t see the horns on his head, and Hange wondered if she had imagined touching them.

“Well, are you coming?” the demon asked, turning around and crossing hands on his chest, scowling at Hange. “Or are you going to keep staring at me?”

“I’m sorry!” Hange ran up to him, following the demon into the next room. “I’m just very curious about your nature, that’s all.”

“Tch, I’m not some animal on display at a town’s market. So quit looking at me like that, or I’ll kill you,” the demon promised her darkly.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it!” Hange plopped down into an armchair. The demon obviously led her to his living room.

“So what do we do now?” the demon took a sit opposite from Hange, and was now regarding her with irritated eyes.

“Well, I ask you some questions, and you ask me in return,” Hange shrugged. “We get to know each other.”

“Alright…” the demon said warily. “What is your question?”

“Well, you haven’t told me your name yet, so let’s start with that, yeah?”

“Demon’s name is a sacred thing. I’m not going to tell it to some stranger.”

“But I’m not a stranger, I’m your friend!” Hange grinned. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to tell it to anyone. You can trust me.”

The demon looked at her skeptically for a long moment. “It’s Levi,” he whispered finally, turning his head away from Hange’s curious eyes.

“Levi!” she exclaimed. “I like it, it fits you.”

“It’s my name, of course, it fits me, moron.”

“Alright, alright,” Hange chuckled. “Now it’s time for your question.”

“What is that shit on your face?” Levi pointed a finger at her and scrunched his face in disgust.

Hange was baffled by his question. Did Levi mean the dirt on her face, or—

“Not the actual shit,” Levi clarified, seeing Hange’s confused expression. “That thing on your eyes, what is that?”

“Oh, that’s my glasses!” Hange took them off and handed them to Levi. “Everything is blurry, when I’m not wearing them,” she explained.

“So you need them to see?” Levi asked, looking at object in his hands from all angles.

“Yeah, can’t do much without them.”

“Huh,” Levi hummed thoughtfully. “And are they supposed to be like this?” he pointed at the crack in one of the lenses.

“Haha, no,” Hange giggled. “I just fell from a ladder one day and accidentally broke them.”

Levi said nothing, just closed his eyes, his right hand hovering above the damaged lens. Hange’s eyes widened, when Levi’s hand suddenly started to glow. However, she didn’t get the chance to study it more closely, as the light disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

“Here,” Levi handed her glasses back. “I don’t know if it helped, but…”

Hange put the glasses back on her face and gasped. She could see so clearly now! “Levi, thank you!” she smiled brightly. “Now they are as good as new!”

“And they don’t look so stupid anymore,” Levi agreed.

Hange opened her mouth to say something, but whatever she was going to ask Levi was interrupted by her wide yawn. “Sorry,” she covered her mouth with a giggle. “Maybe, it’s time I head home. It seems I’m a bit tired.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Levi nodded, getting up from his seat.

“I’ll come back in a few days,” Hange said, when Levi led her out to the front door. “If t-that’s alright with you, of course!”

Levi sighed. “Again, I don’t think I have a choice. Just… wash your clothes and your hair before visiting me. It honestly looks disgusting.”

“Roger that!” Hange agreed with a chuckle.

She bid Levi goodbye and started her way home. As she moved through the forest, there was a happy smile on her face.

She wasn’t alone anymore.              

 ***

“Levi, don’t you have horns?” Hange asked, as she was sitting beside him on the sofa. She knew Levi for a couple of months now, and she was confident they were close friends, even if Levi fiercely denied it every time Hange had brought it up.

But in all that time she knew Levi, Hange had never seen his horns. Levi gave her a lot of books about demonology, and he patiently explained everything Hange was curious about and even helped her translate the texts, which were written in a language she didn’t know. There weren’t a lot of actual images of demons in those books, but a couple of pictures Hange had seen, always showed demons with big, black horns. But as far as she knew, Levi didn’t have any. She remembered touching them during their first meeting, but she wasn’t sure if she hadn’t imagined it all.

“Every demon has them, stupid,” Levi huffed. “And I do, too.”

“You’ve never shown me!” Hange grabbed Levi’s shoulder, getting close to his face and looking him straight in the eyes. “Why?”

Levi turned away, crossing hands on his chest. “Don’t want to,” he grumbled quietly.

“But why?” Hange cried out. “Do you still not trust me?”

“It’s not that,” Levi clicked his tongue in annoyance. “It’s just… well, they appear only when I’m in my demon form. And I don’t want you to see it.”

“Why not?” Hange wasn’t giving up.

“It’s different from my human form. I look… I look different. You may not like it.”

“Levi,” Hange grabbed his chin to make him look at her. When their eyes met, she smiled warmly. “You’re my friend, and I want to know what you look like. I promise, no matter how ugly you look, I won’t be scared of you.”

Levi rolled his eyes, his posture relaxing under Hange’s gaze. “You’re stubborn as a bull, Hange, has anyone ever told you?”

Hange laughed. “You always do.”

“Alright,” Levi shook his head, getting up from his seat. “I’ll show you my demon form, just… don’t freak out, okay?”

Hange gave him an encouraging smile. “You know it’s not that easy to scare me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Levi grumbled. “You’re crazy, but still, don’t panic. Just remember that I won’t hurt you, under any circumstances.”

Hange nodded. “I trust you.”

Levi ran a shaking hand through his hair and stood in the center of room. He muttered something under his breath, and a bright white light illuminated the room. Hange closed her eyes to shield them, and when she opened them again, Levi’s familiar figure disappeared. The creature in front of Hange was still as short as Levi, but it was hard to call him human. Behind his back was a pair of black wings and on top of his head were two large horns. But the most impressing thing about his appearance was his eyes. They were brighter than usual, and Hange remembered that she had seen the same intense blue color, when she met Levi for the first time.

“Oh,” Hange breathed out in wonder. She slowly got to her feet and took a few steps closer, until she stood right next to Levi. “Can I?” she asked, her hand hovering above his wing.

Levi nodded slightly, his eyes following her every move.

Hange tentatively laid her hand on Levi’s wing, gently caressing thick black feathers. Then she moved to his head, touching his horns. They were smaller, than Hange expected, and curled at the end. She giggled as her hand traced it along the length.

“They remind me of goat’s.”

“Tch,” Levi waved Hange’s hand away, taking a step away from her. “So you’re really not weirded out? Not disgusted by my appearance?”

“Levi,” Hange smiled gently, taking his clawed hand in hers and laying her head on his shoulder. Levi’s wing instinctively wrapped itself around her. “You can look like a giant hairy beast, or some kind of serpent with horrible tentacles, and I still won’t be scared of you. No matter what you look like, I know that you have kind and caring soul. You’re my friend, Levi, and nothing will change that.”

Levi was evidently at a loss of words, as he kept staring at Hange with hopeless, stricken expression.

“C’mon,” she tugged at his arm. “Let’s go to the library. The lighting there is better, and I can take a closer look at your form.”

“Weirdo,” Levi huffed, but followed after Hange without further complaint.

 ***

“For fuck’s sake, Hange!” Levi was at her side as soon as Hange passed his threshold. He instantly began taking off her wet cloak. “There is a fucking storm outside, why did you come here?”

“But Levi!” Hange pouted. “I haven’t visited you for two days already! I missed you!”

“Idiot,” Levi scoffed, but Hange didn’t miss the softness in his voice. “C’mon,” taking her hand, he started leading her upstairs. “Go and change your wet clothes, and I’ll make some tea in the meanwhile.”

When Hange joined Levi in the living room, already dressed in his clothes, Levi wore a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Did something happen?” Hange asked, coming to sit next to him and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hange,” Levi sighed. “I think you sh—”

“Oh, no,” Hange interrupted him. “I know where this is going. You’re going to once again ask me to start living with you?”

Levi glared at her. “Yes, and I still don’t understand why you refuse. I can’t understand why you insist on living in that wretched thing you call a house, surrounded by those fools, who hate you!”

“Levi…” Hange ran a hand through her hair. “This is my home, I’ve lived here all my life. I can’t just abandon it.”

“This place can be your home. You can live here, with me. Don’t you want this?”

Hange shrugged, letting out a small laugh. “I don’t know. What about my crops? I can’t possibly leave all my books behind, and what is going to happen to Philip, if I come to live here?”

Philip was Hange’s black cat, and for a long time he was her best and only friend. He was an adorable little thing, who came to nuzzle to Hange’s chest every time she was sitting down. Philip was always so affectionate with her, Hange had never seen him hissing or using his claws to hurt anyone. Until she introduced Philip to Levi. The cat’s pupils delated the moment he laid his eyes on Levi. He bended down slightly, and that all warning Hange and Levi got, before Philip jumped right at Levi with a vicious hiss, his claws aimed at his face.

Thankfully, Levi was able to dodge that attack, but he swore to never again put his foot in Hange’s house, as long as her insane cat was there.

Levi rolled his eyes, flicking Hange’s forehead. “Your crops are a fucking mess, Hange, and you can always take your stupid books with you. And… that thing can come live with you, too.”

“Are you talking about Philip?” Hange’s eyes widened. “You will actually let him into your house?”

Levi sighed. “If it means that you will leave that dirty shack, then yes, that infernal beast can live in my house.”

“Levi!” Hange hugged him to her chest. “Thank you! You are the kindest demon I know!”

Levi narrowed his eyes. “Do you know some other demons?”

Hange smiled slyly. “And what if I did?”

Levi shrugged. “Nothing. I’d just have to kill them, that’s all.”

“Levi!” Hange punched his arm. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“What? I’m serious. Those are demon rules, Hange. I can’t let another demon close to my human.”

Hange crossed her hands on her chest, pouting at him. “I can’t understand if you’re joking or not. Besides, I’m not your human.”

“I know that,” Levi agreed. “But most demons don’t know what a friend is. We live a solitary life. Some demons can find a human to… entertain themselves, and when they do, those humans become ‘theirs’,” Levi’s eyes filled with distain. “They do not care much for those humans, but they’re pretty territorial about them. Demons are territorial about everything,” he spat out. “They act like mindless beasts, but think they’re better than humans. I hate other demons, that’s why I left the Underground.”

“But you’re different from other demons,” Hange said, laying her head on Levi’s shoulder and gazing softly at him.

“And you are different from other humans,” Levi replied in an unusually warm voice.

“Alright,” Hange sighed. “I’ll go back to my house to get all my belongings, and then I come here the next evening? To stay with you?”

“We don’t have to live here,” Levi told her. “Paris, Rome, Cairo… whatever city or place you want.”

“Nah,” Hange shook her head with a smile. “I don’t care where to live, as long as I’m with you.”

“Let’s go then,” Levi took her by the hand and helped Hange get to her feet. “I’ll walk you home.”

Whenever Levi walked with Hange through the forest, he always kept her close. He held her hand or hugged her shoulders and watched her every step. Hange honestly couldn’t understand, why Levi was so careful and what he was afraid of, but she found his overprotectiveness to be very sweet and adorable.

“I’ll walk the rest of the way by myself,” Hange gently freed her hand out of Levi’s grasp. Usually Levi and she said their goodbye at her doorstep, but Hange could see that there was some kind of commotion in the village. It was brightly lit as though by a fire and she could hear shouting. Was there some kind of a festival tonight?

Either way, she was afraid that someone might see Levi, and even if he was in his human form, it still would raise unwanted question. And Hange’s reputation in the village was bad enough without it.

When Hange let go of his hand, Levi’s eyebrows furrowed for a second. But then he composed himself and nodded. “But you’ll come back tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” Hange smiled. “As soon as I gather everything I need.”

“Good,” Levi leaned in and gave Hange a small peck on her lips. “I’ll be waiting,” he added, before disappearing into the woods.

Hange stayed there for a little longer, staring at the place, where Levi had just been. It was just a kiss, and a brief one at that, but it made her feel all fuzzy inside. She could feel her cheeks burn, and her chest filled with warm, pleasant sensation.  

She couldn’t wait to see Levi again, and she couldn’t believe that he asked her to abandon her home and make a new one with him. Could it be that she wouldn’t be alone anymore? Could it be that she would finally be happy?

However, as Hange began to approach her own house, all of her giddy feelings disappeared. Something was very, very wrong, she could feel it.

And as Hange walked out of the forest and reached the village, she realized that she was mistaken. There wasn’t any festival in the village, no, instead her house, her own home, in which she spent her whole life, had been burnt to the ground.

Hange shrieked in horror and tried to run inside. There was so much books and plants inside, and, oh god, Philip, did he manage to escape? Hange had to enter, she had to at least try to salvage something, but as soon as she got close to the house, her shoulders were roughly grabbed.

Hange turned her face up and her eyes widened, as she saw the people of her village staring back at her, their expressions cruel and triumphant.

“So the witch has finally returned!” one of the woman took a step forward, taking Hange by the hair, making her look right in her eyes. “What have you been doing in the forest at night, huh, witch? Were you summoning a demon? Or were you meeting with others from your kind?”

Hange stared helplessly at that woman and the rest of the angry crowd behind her. She knew all of them. The woman, who stood on the left, - she helped her deliver a baby. And the man in center - Hange brought him home, when he had broken his leg. The woman, who was standing above her, still holding her by the hair - Hange had given her son syrup to cure him from a severe case of coughing fits.

“I don’t understand,” Hange murmured, her eyes filling with angry tears. What had she done to deserve such ire? What had she done to earn their hatred?

“You’re a witch! Don’t try to deny it!” the woman shouted.

“We have found this, your wretched woman,” a man stepped out, holding a book to Hange’s face. She recognized it immediately. It was a demonology book Levi had given her. She had probably left it on a porch or on a bench near her house, and some curious kid or a noisy housewife had found it, while Hange was visiting Levi.

“And what is my punishment going to be?” she asked, her voice defeated. She knew it was pointless to further argue and protest. Those people wouldn’t listen, and even if they did, what Hange could say? How can she redeem herself? Tell those people that she wasn’t trying to practice any magic, that she was just reading this book to get a better understanding of her demon friend’s nature? Yeah, that would surely not soften their anger. Besides, she wouldn’t scoop so low as to lie and beg. If this was the end for her, then she would meet it with dignity and without an ounce of fear.

“You’re lucky, witch,” the woman in front of Hange sneered. “I would have locked you inside your own house and burned you there alive, but the people of this village are kind and merciful. They decided to give you a fair trial, to give your sinful soul a chance to cleanse yourself.”

“And then you will burn me at a stake, right?” Hange scoffed.

“Your punishment will be decided by a just and honest trial,” the woman repeated with righteous fire in her eyes.

She and the rest of the crowd didn’t give Hange a chance to answer, as she was yanked to her feet and then dragged to the village’s jail.

They threw her into a cell, and it was there, where Hange had spent her last night on this Earth. The trial was to begin the next day, and so she just sat there, staring at the moon and remembering all the happy moments of her life.

The priest came in the morning, just before a trial was about to begin. He said he came to hear out Hange’s confession, to forgive her for her sins.

Hange wanted to laugh in his face.

“Please, explain it to me, father,” she began, sitting as comfortably as she could with her hands chained to the wall. “You always say that God is merciful and forgiving, that He is righteous and just, but why is He doing this to me? Why is He punishing me, if I have never done any harm to the people of this village? I’ve always tried to help them, I’ve done my best to care for them, but they have been nothing but spiteful and cruel to me. How can they be such good Christians, if they hate me just because I’m different? Is that’s how God had made them to be?”

The priest was obviously taken aback by Hange’s speech. His eyes widened and his hands, which held Bible, were trembling slightly. But he quickly composed himself, straightening his shoulders and putting a stern expression on his wrinkled face.

“You have sinned, my child. You have turned to dark creatures and magic. The people of this village are not guilty of your downfall, those sins are yours alone. And God cannot forgive you for them.”

“You are right, father,” Hange glared fiercely at him. “I have sinned. I’ve been meeting with a demon. I’ve befriended him, I’ve fallen in love with him. And he had been kinder and more caring with me, than all the people in this village.”

The priest shook his head. “Your sins are much worse than I thought. But there is still some hope for you, my child. Ask God for His forgiveness, renounce your bonds with that monster, and your soul will be saved. You can still go to Heaven and spend your eternity in bliss.”

“I would rather rot in deepest pits of Hell,” Hange spat. “Than spend an eternity with the likes of you.”

“I see there is no salvation for your soul,” the priest nodded, as though Hange’s fate had been decided. “But I’ll keep you in my prayers, child.”

“Just leave me alone already,” Hange sighed tiredly.

“Your trial will begin in an hour,” Holy Father said and then walked out of her cell.

The trial, just as Hange had expected, was a complete farce. The villagers tested against her, each of them telling how they always suspected that she had been a witch. How all the times she had helped them proved that she was practicing magic.

Hange didn’t even bother to listen to them. She knew her punishment already, long before the judge and the jury announced it.

She was to be burnt at a stake this night. Hange accepted her sentence with a surprising amount of calmness. And to think that just yesterday she was excited to start a new life with Levi, but now it seemed that her life was ending.

 ***

Levi stood on his porch, tapping his leg impatiently and staring into the forest. What the fuck was taking Hange so long? She promised to come as soon, as she finished packing. How many belongings did she have?

As he waited for her hour after hour, unpleasant thoughts began to plague Levi’s mind. Could it be… could it be that Hange has changed her mind? Maybe, she had decided that a life with a demon wasn’t for her? Had she finally realized what a monster Levi was? Or maybe… maybe he had made her uncomfortable last night? Maybe his kiss had made her feel uneasy?

Honestly, Levi didn’t know what had possessed him to kiss Hange last night. He just felt like he should do it, it felt right and natural. And Levi… Levi couldn’t resist.

It seemed like he could never resist himself, when it came to Hange. From the first moment that he had seen her, Levi couldn’t stay away. He tried to, knew that it was wrong, demons and humans didn’t belong together, but Hange… She made him feel like he had never felt before. She made him happy, with Hange Levi felt like he belonged somewhere, like he belonged with someone.

He wanted to always be with her.

But it seemed like Hange didn’t feel the same way about him.

Levi’s solemn thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of rustling leaves. His head snapped to its source, and Levi’s heart swelled when he saw Hange’s cat, Philip, walking out of the woods.

However… Hange didn’t follow after him.

Levi quickly approached the cat and took another look at him. Now that he was standing right beside him, Levi saw that Philip was covered in grime and the tip of his left was burnt. Levi’s blood ran cold. What had happened to Hange’s cat? What had happened to her?

Levi crouched down to the cat and tentatively laid his hand on his dark fur. Using his demonic powers, he searched the cat’s mind to see what had happened. As soon as he connected to him, Levi was hit by a wave of hot air and crippling, paralyzing fear. Through Philip’s eyes, Levi saw the burning house and heard the victorious shouts of an angry mob. He saw Hange become surrounded by those people, saw their hatred and her tears.

Levi squeezed his hands into fists, rage filling his mind and soul. He will make them pay, every last of them, every fool, who dared to lay their dirty hands on Hange, who dared to hurt her. They will pay.

Without wasting another moment, Levi began sprinting towards the village. He ran fast, faster than was humanly possible, but still, it felt like this wasn’t enough, like he wouldn’t be quick enough to save Hange.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So he changed into his demon form and flew into the air, reaching the village in the shortest time possible. He landed in the dark alley, swiftly returning to his human appearance. As he walked to the market place and saw a huge pyre, built in the center of it, Levi had to stop and took a deep breathe.

He felt rage burn inside him once more and his mind filled with desire to kill all of them, to slaughter every person in this village. But he knew he couldn’t do that – Hange would get upset, he was sure. After all they had done to her, she still cared for those people.

Levi could never understand her kind and sympathetic soul, he had never met anyone like Hange. Maybe, that’s why he loved her so much. That’s why he would do anything in his power to save her.

A woman walked past him and Levi grabbed her elbow, roughly digging his fingers into her skin.

“Tell me where she is!” he hissed into her face.

His eyes began to glow and sharp claws appeared on his hands, his control was slipping, but the woman didn’t seem to notice any of that, as she wore a blissful, ecstatic smile on her face.

“Are you asking about a witch?” she asked with the same carefree expression. “She is still inside her cell, I think,” she pointed to a small building with thick walls. “Oh, but they’ll lead her there soon. They’ll burn the heinous witch and that fire will cleanse our village, destroying all of our sorrows and hardships. God will forgive us and without that evil woman, we will be able to live happily again!”

Levi pushed the woman away, and hurried in the direction, where that she had pointed him to. His anger at the woman’s words was somewhat subdued, as a sense of relief nearly overwhelmed him.

Hange was still alive, there was still time to save her.

He rushed through the streets and soon he saw them. Two men, dragging unresisting Hange behind them. The look of her face, the expression of resignation – it nearly broke Levi’s heart. Hange shouldn’t look like this, his expressive and cheerful Hange shouldn’t have that defeated look in her eyes.

His anger was returning.

In quick short strides, he reached them.

“Let her go!” Levi bellowed, resisting himself from ripping those men limb from limb.

The men looked at him, their faces instantly paled and their eyes widened in horror.

“A demon…” one of them whispered, as he moved back, stumbling and falling.

Levi paid no mind to him, his eyes staring at the woman in front of him.  

“Levi!” Hange’s face was surprised, as though she couldn’t believe he was actually here. That foolish woman, Levi thought. Had she not expected him to come? Had she believed that he would leave her alone?

“I’m here, Hange,” Levi finally closed the distance between them, placing his arms around her. “You’re safe now.”

In an instant, Levi changed his forms again, turning into a demon. Hange and he disappeared from a market place in a cloud of smoke.

When Hange opened her eyes again, she was back at Levi’s manor. She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears.

“Levi!” she pressed her face into his shoulder. “Why are those people so cruel? They’ve burnt my house, destroyed my books and everything I’ve owed. And Philip!” Hange’s sobs grew louder. “Oh my dear, darling Philip, they’ve probably have killed him!”

“Calm down, Hange,” Levi sighed, patting her hair. “As much as it pains me, but that beast has survived. He was actually the one, who told me that you were in trouble.”

As on cue, Philip ran out of his hiding place under Levi’s sofa and walked straight to Hange, rubbing her feet with his head.

“Philip!” Hange scooped the cat into her arms, pressing him close to her chest. “Oh my dear boy, I was so worried!” she kissed his head, and Levi was confident that the annoying creature was smirking at him, as he enjoyed Hange’s tight embrace. “And is it true that you’ve helped Levi save me? Oh, you’re my little hero,” she cooed. “What would I have done without you?”

“Oi!” Levi interrupted. “He wasn’t the one who actually saved your ass.”

“Oh, I know,” Hange smirked, leaning in and kissing Levi’s cheek. “You’re my hero, too. My adorable demon with shining wings!”

“Don’t push it, Hange.” Levi narrowed his eyes, wrapping his hands around her and giving her a proper kiss on the lips. Philip hissed in Hange’s hands, and she laughed, moving away from Levi.

“I don’t think he likes you that much,” she gazed at Levi, softly ruffling his hair.

“That feeling is more than mutual,” Levi grumbled in reply, closing his eyes and enjoying Hange’s gently touches.

“Levi?” Hange’s voice was troubled, and so Levi opened his eyes, looking at her worryingly. Hange was biting her lip, staring into the distance. “I had been thinking about your proposal… to leave this place. Is it still stands?”

“Whatever you wish,” he replied, taking her hand in his and squeezing. “Whenever you want to live, just say a word, and it’ll be done.”

“I don’t care where to live,” Hange shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll be happy, as long as you’re with me.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Levi nodded, closing the distance between their faces once more and pressing his lips to Hange’s.

[booksncoffee]

get lonely with me, two

the one with the chemistry test

“Are you kidding me?” He laughs as he pulls away from the hug, brows furrowing slightly. Iris loves that sound. Used to feel like she managed to move mountains if she made him laugh. “This is great. I’m so glad it’s you.”

Iris was ten years old when she landed her first acting job. She still remembers the audition tape she did for that movie, the months long auditions she went through alone and with the cast, and more than anything, she remembers how thrilled she was when she got the role.

Her first acting job was, coincidentally, for a romantic comedy. The same movie genre she auditioned for a couple of weeks ago.

The audition went alright - not the best she’d done which she kicked herself for it - so she was surprised when she received a call from her agent telling her that there’s a possibility that she might get the role of Sabrina Woods. The character that Iris fell in love with the moment she read the book and when she found out that it’s being adapted to a movie, she knew she had to be in it. As luck would have it, the casting director contacted Iris’ agent and told her that she wanted Iris to come in for a chemistry read with the actor who will be playing Leon James.

So here she is, heart thumping in her chest as she waits for her name to be called out. She’s told earlier today that she will be up against Layla King for the role of Sabrina Woods. If she wasn’t nervous earlier, she definitely is now. She’s seen several of Layla King’s movies and she’s amazing. Layla can play any roles thrown at her and Iris doesn’t doubt that she’d be able to play the role of Sabrina Woods perfectly too.

“Don’t think too much and don’t think about her,” Iris’ mom tells her once she’s finished telling her that she and Layla are going for the same role. Her mom has always been the person she turns to when she needs a boost of confidence or when she just needs someone to talk to. Right now, she needs a bit of both.

“But she’s amazing. How can I not think of her?”

“You’re amazing too.” Iris rolls her eyes at her mom’s statement. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Mouth falling open, Iris pulls her phone away from her ear to look at the screen and to make sure that she didn’t accidentally choose a video call rather than a normal phone call - that happened once before. Okay, twice. “How’d you-”

“I know you and I know you were rolling your eyes at me.”

Iris lets out a small laugh. Yeah that sounds like her mom, alright. She seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to this thing. “Well, you’re only telling me that I’m amazing because I’m your daughter.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Iris remembers the abundance of times when her mom would tell her if she’s not doing a good job or if she’s not doing the character’s justice when she’s running her lines. She also remembers that one time when she told her mom that she wanted to be in a horror movie and instead of supporting her, her mom laughed at her and told her that she could never be in one because chances are, she’d be getting nightmares for weeks. Which was, fine, the truth.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right.”

Her mom gives her a hum of approval, happy to be told she’s right, before saying, “Just do your best, okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay,” Iris replies with a nod even though her mom can’t see her. But she knows she can feel her nodding.

“Text me or call me when you’re done with the audition.”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As soon as the phone call ends, Iris feels a lot less nervous than she was a few minutes ago. This is why she loves talking to her mom - she always knows what to say to make her feel better.

Putting her phone away, Iris picks up the script to go over the lines again. It’s not a surprise that she’s memorised it by now. Running the lines is all she does ever since she received the script from her agent. She stopped doing it when she thought she blew the audition but as soon as she was told that she’s being called for a chemistry test with the lead actor, she picked up the script again - much to her younger brother’s dismay. Ben was not happy when he had to go over Leon’s lines again and again with his sister but Iris likes to think that he has no complaining rights when she’s helped him a lot with his schoolwork and that, in her opinion, is way worse.

“Iris Liu? We’re ready for you.”

Iris snaps out of her thoughts and looks up to find the woman she talked to earlier waiting for her. Scrambling to her feet, she offers the woman a smile and follows her as she leads her to the room where she’ll be doing the chemistry test with the potential Leon James. She asked her agent if she knew who’ll be playing Leon James but she didn’t get anything out of her - either she also has no clue about it or she wants to keep it a surprise. Both are plausible.

Rumours have been circulating on the Internet and based on what Iris has read, they’re speculating that the role of Leon James will either go to KJ Apa, Tom Holland, or Nick Robinson. Whoever it is, Iris is very much nervous about this chemistry read. She may have done this several times but nausea still swirls in her stomach. Every single time. Her heart beats so strong that she thinks her chest might burst.

The first thing that Iris notices when she walks into the room is that there are at least twelve pairs of eyes on her, all waiting to judge whether or not she’d do Sabrina Woods justice. In that moment, she finds herself wondering how Layla King’s session went. She wonders if they’ve already made a decision, have already decided to go with Layla, but since she’s already here, they choose to go on with the chemistry test anyway. Just for the sake of it.

“Don’t think too much,” her mom’s words return to her mind and she pushes her insecurities to the very back of her mind. Now’s not the time to think about it.

With butterflies in her stomach, Iris takes a deep breath and then plasters a smile on her face as she greets everyone in the room, introducing herself even though they already know her name.

The last person she introduces herself to is Kim Davison - the author of The (Mis)Fortune of Knowing You and also the producer of this movie. Iris tries but fails to maintain her cool as she talks to the woman she considers one of her inspirations. Luckily Kim doesn't seem put off by her obvious display of enthusiasm - at least, Iris hopes she isn’t.

“Are you ready?” The casting director, Carmen, asks.

“Yeah, I am,” Iris answers with a nod. She looks around the room again because where is Leon James? She’s about to ask Carmen if she’ll be doing the chemistry read alone (that doesn’t make any sense, does it?) when someone walks into the room, apologising profusely.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to make anyone wait.”

Iris recognises that voice. It sounds slightly different now but there’s an unmistakable silvery quality to it that only one person possesses. Even when he apologises he sounds happy, though that is not to say that his apologies mean nothing. If Iris has to describe his voice, she’d say it’s sunshine in a form of sound - bright and happy and reassuring. And if Iris is right about the person that has yet come into her vision, then she’d say that she would also describe him as sunshine in the form of a human.

Holding her breath, Iris turns around and comes face to face with Tom Holland, the boy she worked with once when she was sixteen and he was seventeen.

They both landed the supporting roles for a science fiction movie, which Iris thought was very ahead of its time, and they used to spend a lot of time together on set. They became quite close friends back then but life got in the way and they turned into acquaintances - someone they knew from the movie they worked in together at some point in their lives. Because soon after the movie was released, Iris focused on her study while also balancing her acting career, which was not at all an easy task, while Tom went ahead and made his name in the industry. Iris was, and still is, proud of him and of his accomplishments. She knew that he’d be successful, knew that he’d come far as an actor.

But what she doesn’t know is that if she does things right, there’s a possibility that she’ll work with him again.

“Iris?” His whole face lights up when he sees her and her heart speeds up at the mere sight of that. “Oh God, it is you. They told me I’d be doing this with Layla and Iris, and I wasn’t sure if they meant you.”

“Hey, Tom,” she responds with a smile.

She wills her heart to return to its normal heartbeat but it refuses to listen to her. Because this time, she has no control over it. Not when the boy in front of her has his arms open for her. Not wanting to leave him hanging and also because his arms do look inviting and she remembers how much she used to enjoy his hugs, Iris steps forward and wraps her arms around him. He smells good, she thinks, a mixture of something fresh and clean, and at the risk of sounding like a creep, she thinks he smells heavenly.

When he squeezes her, something he tends to do when he hugs someone, she hopes and prays that he won’t be able to feel her heart pounding against her ribcage because damn it, it’s just a hug. Even if it’s a hug from someone she’s not met in nearly ten years, it's just a hug.

“Hope you’re not disappointed that it’s me.”

“Are you kidding me?” He laughs as he pulls away from the hug, brows furrowing slightly. Iris loves that sound. Used to feel like she managed to move mountains if she made him laugh. “This is great. I’m so glad it’s you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “God, it’s been a while hasn’t it? You look…” He trails off as he takes a couple of steps back and truly looks at her.

Iris is used to people looking and staring at her, assessing her, but when Tom does it, her entire being acts as though it is a foreign concept.

All of sudden she doesn't remember how to stand and where to put her hands, and she isn’t sure if she should cross her legs or uncross her legs. She ends up tucking and untucking her hair from behind her ears while she waits for Tom to find the right words to describe her.

It can’t be that hard, can it? Though, to be fair, if she has to describe him right now, she won’t be able to do it too. And it’s not because he doesn't look good. It’s because he looks so good that she doesn’t think there's a right word for it.

“You look great,” he finally says, his mouth curving into a smile. “You look… Amazing.”

“Thank you,” Iris replies, her cheeks heating up at the compliment. “You look great too.”

Tom plays the compliment off with a shrug as a sheepish smile touches his lips. He opens his mouth to say something else but changes his mind in the last minute as he suddenly realises that they’re not alone in this room. That there are about fifteen pairs of eyes on them.

Straightening his back, Tom looks around and then says, “We’re ready, aren’t we?”

Carmen and Kim nod. “Ready when you are.”

“Great,” Tom grins at them. He clears his throat once, twice, and when his eyes find Iris again, he kinks an eyebrow and asks in an American accent that could fool just about anyone: “You ready, Sabrina Woods?” 

--

taglist: @infinitiae​, @httpsmoony​, @adoremp3​

[pumpkindechart]

Every Day by David Levithan | Book Review

“People take love's continuity foor granted, just as they take their body's continuity for granted. They don't realize that the best thing about love is its regular presence. Once you can establish that, it's an added foundation to your life.”

                              Book Review by Angelica Cariño

a/n: stop right there! before you can start reading this book review. I want to say that all the critique that I said in this review are just my humble opinion. please don’t let my review sway your opinion on reading this lovely book :).

Synopsis

    Every day a different body. Every day a different life. Every day in love with the same girl. There’s never any warning about where it will be or who it will be. A has made peace with that, even established guidelines by which to live: Never get too attached. Avoid being noticed. Do not interfere.     It’s all fine until the morning that A wakes up in the body of Justin and meets Justin’s girlfriend, Rhiannon. From that moment, the rules by which A has been living no longer apply. Because finally A has found someone he wants to be with—day in, day out, day after day. Date Published: August 28, 2012

Publisher: Knopf Books for Young Readers

Setting: Maryland, USA

No. of Pages: 322

About the Author

     David Levithan was born in September 7th 1972 in Short Hills, New Jersey. He has written several novels both solo and collaboration. His collaboration with Billy Merrell, The Full Spectrum: A New Generation of Writing About Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Questioning, and Other Identities, was granted the Lambda Award for Best LGBTQ Children’s/Teen Book .

Review

    Here’s the the thing. I don’t really expect that I will like this story so much that I’m begging for more.     I’ve heard about this book here and there, but I didn’t have the chance to read it. I’ve seen it in display on the bookstores, begging to be bought by me. Being a bookworm that I am there’s an itch to buy the book and own a copy, but the sad thing is that I don’t have enough money to buy the book. Horrah!      Unfortunately the book completely slip off my mind as time passed.  If not because our teacher in reading and writing making us write a book review about the book I would forgot about it. Fortunately, there is an app in the playstore that helps you read books for free! It is called AllBooks. Okay, enough chit-chat let's go on with the review.     Every Day is definitely one of the most unique books out there, it was well-thought out and the writing was flawless. I have not read anything like it before and believe me I’ve read a lot of books on my free time (I have a whole collection of books at my house). Well the concept is not entirely original (There’s a TV series called “Quantum Leap” that touch this idea of leaping into the bodies of different people).

    You can learn a lesson from almost every chapter, you can be in the body (and somehow even the mind) of all kinds of people, struggling with their problems, creating others, trying to fix the unfixable or to keep untouched the precious moments in their lives. You learn that actions always  have consequences, that when you change things you have to assume the responsibility for doing so; you get glimpses into the head of so many types of people and at the end of the day not only you can learn a thing or two from it, but you can really become a better person.     The different characters, the lives that A inhabits each day, made the book very interesting because you can see how all of them have different personality, lifestyle and routine. I loved how A was able to at least separate themselves from the lives they are been living, but also sad at the same time for they can’t have what these lives have. I can’t even imagine waking up every day as a new person and for A spending their whole life doing this whole routine of waking up in a different body. I salute them.     I was sobbing at the end of the book, the good kind of hurt, if that’s even possible. Do you know that I looked like a mess when I finished the book? I was staring to the abyss thinking; how can A able to that. Honestly, A can spend their whole life with Rhiannon because there is a way to achieve it but I applaud them for making that decision.     To be honest I was hoping for some explanation about A situation. It gave us snippets of it, but I would have liked for it to explain more. But at the same time I’m glad that the author doesn’t try to explain why A wakes up in a different body each day. I liked that Every Day wasn’t that type of book, and that we didn’t get all the answers, because the story isn’t about that. The story is about humanity and belonging, and what it means to be connected with other people. What David Levithan gave us was incredibly moving and heartbreaking, and I was thoroughly satisfied with how everything played out. Everything in this book just worked. We jump into the A and Rhiannon story from the very first chapter, and even though it was a little bit insta-lovey, it all just felt right. Nothing in this book felt far-fetched. My one minor criticism about the plot was that the ending felt slightly rushed. It is not exactly my cup of tea.

Characters

      A is the narrator and the main character of the novel. A transfers from body to body everyday and they are doing it as long as they can remember. “Imagine being home sick, but without having a home” — A     A is a dynamic character because they are constantly struggling against themselves because of what they are. They aren’t able to make friendships that last longer than a day and now they are being confronted with falling in love. A doesn't know much about how they came to be and doesn't have a mother or father to look up to therefore they have no one to guide them so they have to fend for themselves.

     Rhiannon is a girl who is "pretty but she doesn't see it". She is also characterized as, "lost in her sadness". In the beginning of the book she is introduced as Justin's girlfriend. A also posesses her body at some point in the book. “I'm having a hard time imagining how, but I want these pieces to fit.” — Rhiannon

     Justin is a sixteen year old boy who lives with both parents. He doesn’t care for her girlfriend Rhiannon. He is also agressive, abusive and a douchebag to his girlfriend. A feels they should protect and save Rhiannon from him. “I focus on the present because that is where I am destined to live.”  — A as Justin

     Nathan is a normal every day guy, fairly smart, an introvert, but seems to be a gentleman. When he got possesed by A and he unknowingly went to a party (A lying to Nathan’s parents about it) and got left at side of the road. Nathan became aware of A possessing his body and he is not willing to give up till he knows everything.     “It's as if when you love someone, they become your reason. ”  — A as Nathan

     Kelsea is a girl who is dealing with and depression. Kelsea keeps a journal where she expresses her deepest feelings about her depression and thoughts about suicide.  “I find it hard to concentrate on what's being said. I find it hard to see how any of this is important. Nothing I'm being taught here will make life less painful. None of the people in this room will make life less painful.” — A as Kelsea

     Ashley is described as a girl "knock-out", with a gorgeous face and the body of Beyonce. Ashley’s life is defined by her beauty. It is clear that she spends virtually all her time trying to look perfect. “You like him because he's a lost boy. Believe me, I've seen it happen before. But do you know what happens to girls who love lost boys? They become lost themselves. Without fail.”  — A as Ashley

     Alexander is one of the people that A wakes up as. A knows from the start that he likes being in this body and life. He believes that if they are a normal human they would be a lot like Alexander. "She is my first and only love. Most people know that their first love will not be their only love. But for me, she is both. This will be the only chance I give myself. This will never happen again. "  — A as Alexander

     Reverend Poole is not really the real Poole, he is another person like A. The difference between A and Poole is that A only stays in the body for once a day and then changes but Poole has found some way to occupy one particular body for as long as he wishes. In other words Poole is using his powers for evil instend of good. “I know you so much better than you give me credit for. Do you think this is an accident? Do you think I'm just some religious zealot here to exorcise your demons away? Did you ever ask yourself why I am cataloging such things, what I'm looking for? The answer is you, Andrew. And others like you.” — Reverend Poole's host to A

Favorite Quotes

After a while, you have to be at peace with the fact that you simply are. There is no way to know why. You can have theories, but there will never be proof. - A as Justin We all want everything to be okay. We don't even wish so much for the fantastic or marvelous or outstanding. We will happily settle for okay, because most of the time, okay is enough. - A as Justin I have seen this too many times before. The unwarranted devotion. Putting up with the fear of being with the wrong person because you can't deal with the fear of being alone. The hope tinged with doubt, and the doubt tinged with hope. Every time I see these feelings in someone else's face, it weighs me down. - A as Justin It is its own form of conversation - you can learn a lot about people from the stories they tell, but you can also know them from the way they sing along, whether they like the windows up or down, if they live by the map or by the world, if they feel the pull of the ocean. - A as Justin People are rarely as attractive in reality as they are in the eyes of the people who are in love with them. Which is, I suppose, as it should be. It's almost heartening to think that the attachment you have can define your perception as much as any other influence. - A as Leslie Kindness connets to who you are, while niceness connects to how you want to be seen. - A as Amy You shouldn't have to venture deep down in order to get to love.- A as Nathan It would be too easy to say that I feel invisible. Instead, I feel painfully visible, and entirely ignored. People takl to her but it feels like they are outside a house, talking through th ewalls. There are friends, but they are people to spend time with, not people to share time with. There's a false beast that takes the form of instinct and harps on the pointlessness of everything that happens. - A as Kelsea ... even though the world doesn't matter to her, she matters to the world. - A as Kelsea This is what love does: It makes you want to rewrite the world. It makes you want to choose the characters, build the scenery, guide the plot. The person you love sits across from you, and you want to do everything in your power to make it possible, endlessly possible. And when it's just the two of you, alone in a room, you can pretend that this is how it is, this is how it will be. - A as Adam If you stare at the center of the universe, there is a coldness there. A blankness. Ultimately, the universe doesn't care about us. Time doesn't care about us. That's why we have to care about each other. - A as Alexander Belonging. Togetherness. Thee words are as complicated and confusing as the word love. It's probably all the same thing. Or it would be if we let it be. I can only guess from observation. - A as Mark 

Conclusion

   This novel presents interesting themes, character, point of view, and the relation between the main character, the cover, and the title as its strengths.The themes of this novel are ‘love regardless appearance’ and ‘the struggles of life’. As the main character of this novel, A will impress the readers about how this character becomes tough and wise in dealing withthe character’s complicated life.The other strength is this novel’s first-person point of view which takes the readers to step into the character’s life deeply and feel this character’s feeling. How the meaning of the main character’s name, the cover, and the title are related to each other is also the uniqueness of this novel that becomes its strength. However, the indefinite ending of this novel may become a let down for some readers.     Lastly, David Levithan’s Every Day is recommended for those who like reading romance novel and searching for the unique one. The heartrending story and the good messages that it carries makes this novel worth reading.

[polymetis-23]

Diary Entry Sept. 12th, 2021

Day 1: Sunday - Computers Galore!

   Everything is starting to settle down after the hectic week that was orientation. There are still some events happening for fraternities and sororities, but I don't think I would have the time to commit to them this semester, maybe I'll try recruitment next year. Either way, now that I am not running around like a chicken with their head cut off I can focus on getting properly set up my station.

   Wait… I'm not sure I ever explained to y'all what my goal is. Looking back through old posts the answer is no, sorry to keep you in the dark but basically I want to become a hero. I've always loved reading the comics and watching the movies growing up and now I'm somewhere that I can develop the technology to become one myself. Cool right!?

   So basically I brought a couple monitors and a desktop tower with me so I could surveille the city for anyone in need of help. I do need to figure out how to hack into the cameras around the city though … I have gotten some books and am taking a class this semester on coding so hopefully the hacking thing won't be too bad. I mean, everyone in movies has somebody who can do it right?

Day 2: Monday - Coding == spaghetti + alphabet soup; result = TRUE

  Okay, so I promise I read some of the coding books prior to coming to campus and thought I understood what was going on, but uh, I don't? I mean there are all these letters floating around and subsets of letters that are supposed to be abbreviations for long words but then multiple words start with the same first few letters sooo… yea idk. And even if you can figure out what variable they are talking about (or even the ones you create, because I'll be honest, I term a variable and then work on some code and about 20 lines later have forgotten what it means), you are then jumping all over the place because of functions and then there are classes above functions and objects which can jump between classes and each have their own set of functions so you can't use the same function on different objects if they have different classes unless one is a subclass or the function exists in multiple places but then you could have the same named function that acts differently depending on the class of the object and yeah. Are you confused yet, because I'm not (that is a lie, I am totally lost in this mess of coding and hope the intro class can help untangle it).

Day 3: Tuesday - Going old fashioned

  Okay so maybe I was a little over ambitious trying to hack into the city camera network without having taken a single programming class cause yesterday was a complete fail. So I think I'll go a bit more old fashioned and get a radio to scan all the police channels. I'm not giving up, that's not what this is, I'm just putting the coding on a back burner until I actually understand what is happening, plus the police scanner will be enough for the majority of crimes right?

  I went dumpster diving (I know gross) around campus to see if I could find any old police radios, cause correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think store bought radios can usually hear those frequencies? Thankfully it was worth my time cause I found an old radio hidden in-between the cushions of a couch. (those things are literally black holes). Anyway I returned to my room to take a shower and set up the radio.

    Upon searching the best ways to connect the radio to my computer, I discovered that yes, you can buy radios that can listen to police channels so I guess all that the dumpster diving did was save me some money/time (you can apparently build these things too? Maybe I should research more often). Anyway I got the radio hooked up to my computer so I can keep things centralized before going to sleep. Oh yeah, classes also start tomorrow.

Day 4: Wednesday - Classes, Yay!?

    So I had my first day of classes today and isn't college supposed to be less time consuming than highschool even if the material is more advanced? Classes only meet 2-3 times a week and I don't even have all my classes everyday. Like seriously, in highschool I had 7 classes every day 5 days a week. How on earth did my 3 classes today feel like more work? Maybe I'm just not used to it after summer break? I'm going to bed early tonight cause I have my remaining 2 classes tomorrow and I feel like I'm gonna need more energy than a single human can possess.

Day 5: Thursday - Classes aren't that bad.

  I guess I was just a little overwhelmed yesterday cause today was much better. Maybe it was partly because I attended a small highschool so, seeing that many people in the same long hallway was a very new experience. Maybe I'm just starting to get into the swing of things, I don't know. Reflecting on classes so far, I don't have much actual work yet seeing as most classes have just been reviewing the syllabi, though I'm sure I will actually have to start learning stuff tomorrow and next week.

   I did have some free time today in which I was able to create a prototype of the lenses that I want to use for my goggles. They're a bit flatter than I would like but I don't know how to curve the technology without breaking it yet so I guess that will be an advancement for later. Thankfully I was able to find some code online that already takes the signal from the camera I ordered and puts it on a screen so I might actually be able to use these soon.

Day 6: Friday - The camera hath arrived!

  I got a notification this morning that the camera I ordered had finally arrived and I could pick it up. Thankfully Friday is a pretty light day for me in terms of classes, otherwise I might have skipped some to get the goggles working and that would not have been a good start to my college career. Of course nothing can go smoothly when building stuff (why do shows have everything just working, can't they actually show me how to make it work and the errors I might encounter? It is so much more entertaining watching them than some old white dude drone on about vectors and integration… maybe the fact that they montage through the failures is what allows the shows to be interesting. Hmm something to chew on there I guess.)

   I'm writing this at midnight and should probably get some sleep, but I will most definitely be testing these goggles tomorrow.

Day 7: Saturday - The test!

   The goggles turned on without blowing up! (That's a start right, something I should be excited about and not something that is a given with these sorts of things?) And I could actually see what the camera was seeing, although it was a little disorientating cause the camera is a good inch above my eyes and the screen is translucent so I'm getting an overlap between what I can see in front of me an a shrunken off set view of what the camera can see. The weirdest thing is the fact that the IR camera (the code maybe?) shows things tinted red, I guess that is how the programmer decided to depict the IR waves since we can't normally see them. The camera had a couple different modes built in, the most interesting being the thermal detection where everything was displayed in a gradient across the rainbow (I'm sure that will come in handy later). But I think the default is all I can use for now with the contrasting position of the camera and my eyes, I'll have to sort the rest out later.

   I went outside once it got dark to test the goggles in a setting more similar to where I would be using them. Thankfully I went out late and there weren't a lot of people around. Everything was covered in a haze of red, I had no idea there was this much ambient IR radiation. Some of the building windows were slightly more intense, I assumed there was some poor grad student staying late to finish their research. I continued to look around exploring the new layer of information I could see before turning around to head back to my dorm. As I was walking to my dorm I could see across the river and stopped in my tracks. There were bright red beams shooting across my vision, quickly I took off my goggles to get a better view, but the lights vanished. Confused, I put the goggles back on and there they were again. Every few seconds a bright beam would shoot up off the ground and across the sky. The angle looked too steep to be coming from a window so there was definitely something happening on the ground, but what? That was the question. *low battery* flashed across my eyes. Great, I forgot how long I had been testing the goggles, I'll need to add a power pack to the next version of these. I guess my exploring is done for the night so I'll see you guys next week.

- Polymetis

[rue-by-another-name]

“Auto-Pilot” - h.s. one shot

My friend got engaged to her pilot boyfriend and they’re so happy and he was so cute about it and made the announcement over the intercom as they flew to Bali and they’re so rich ugh and perfect and I don’t know I just had this idea and wanted to continue the trend of Y/N being a successful, confident, and amazing woman and yeah hope you all enjoy yay! 

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Harry had never been one to indulge in his riches. Sure, he found comfort in thousand dollar button-ups and Gucci shoes, but if it wasn’t for his rockstar appearance one would hardly find him spending any extra money on the lavish lifestyle he could easily lead. 

And getting a private jet hadn’t even been his idea to begin with. He’d flown on commercial airlines quite often and was used to sitting on a long plane ride for ample amount of time amongst strangers secretly ogling him. But it was the idea of having his own pilot that finally put the last nail in the coffin on his private jet plans. 

You’d first met at a cocktail party in Monte Carlo during the great rally race. Harry felt impeccably snobbish with his champagne and sunglasses and barely-buttoned white sheer shirt, but he figured if he just didn’t talk to anyone, drank his drink, and fiddling with the rings on his fingers then maybe, just maybe, he could get out of his dreadful display of wealth without coming off as too much of a snob. This wasn’t his scene - fast cars made him nervous unlike most other Fast & Furious fans he seemed to be rubbing elbows with - but his manager had said it would be fun, and Gemma had expressed interest so he brought Gemma, for her birthday, even though Harry knew he’d damn well still be getting her some gift months later. 

The villa the party was being held at was quite large and all seemed to be made of glass, and so as he walked around the balconies, he finally was able to find some sense of relief from the large crowds as he turned into what seemed to be a sort of library/study. 

Finally, he thought, he was alone. Harry leaned against the door and let out a long breath, chugging the rest of his drink before setting the empty flute down on one of the bookcases.

“I would take your drink from the mahogany if I were you. Might leave a mark,” a sweet voice rang out, and Harry nearly died on the spot. You were sitting at the large desk, feet up on it as you leaned back in the chair with a rather large book on your lap. 

“Oh m’sorry,” you chuckled, standing as you noticed Harry clutching his chest. “Didn’t mean t’scare ya.”

“Jesus,” Harry grumbled, his heart still beating wildly as he stood up and cleared his throat, “Didn’t see ya there.”

“M’sorry,” you apologized again and chuckled slightly. “Just didn’t want you getting in trouble s’all.” 

You were dressed smartly as you gave Harry a kind smile and placed the book you’d been reading back on the shelf. 

Harry found comfort in your similar accent, noting you had to be from somewhere near where he called home, and nodded towards the book. 

“Please don't stop on my account,” he said, “Sorry for interrupting.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “It’s no worry at all. Just as I’m sure you aren’t supposed to be in here, I most definitely am not.”

Harry chuckled, “Considering how comfy you looked at that desk just a moment ago, I’m surprised you don’t run the place.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, an angelic noise leaving your lips as your smile nearly blinded Harry from the ease and beauty it possessed. “I sometimes like to pretend I am,” you shrugged, “It makes for a much more interesting day, don't you think?”

Harry couldn’t think of a good answer or response to you. Mostly, he was just shocked that you were here considering he’d never seen anyone so effortlessly beautiful and confident in his life. Happiness and warmth seemed to emanate from your presence and put Harry quickly at ease where his heart had been racing faster than the rally cars outside only moments ago.

“M’Arry,” Harry offered his hand and you took it gracefully, stepping forward as you shook his with a smile still on your face.

“Y/N,” you informed him, “Are you enjoying the race?”

“Not quite my gig.”

“Mine neither,” you sighed, “But I go wherever Jack goes, so here I am.”

“Jack?” Harry asked, thinking to your mutual friend out popping champagne bottles on the balcony surrounded by multiple women. “You’re here with Jack?”

“Surprised?” you laughed.

“Quite,” Harry raised an eyebrow, “I’ve never known a friend of Jack’s to be so ... quiet.”

You merely smiled politely at this as you folded your hands in front of you, “Oh I’m not really a friend of his,” you shrugged, “I’m his pilot.”

This took Harry a moment to process. Jack’s pilot? As in, you fly planes? You obviously picked up on his look in confusion as you cleared your throat and said, “I’m a private jet pilot, and Jack usually hires me for his services and events.”

“Wow,” Harry now raised both eyebrows, “That’s spectacular.”

“Quite,” you now said, echoing Harry’s previous statement. “Would you like to go get some more champagne? I hear there might also be sushi.”

You and Harry spent the rest of the day out in the sun next to the pool as you told him about how you’d become a pilot. Your grandfather had been a pilot in the Second World War, and your father had been in the RAF for quite some time before retiring. With no brothers and two younger sisters obsessed with many other things, it seemed only natural that your grandfather and father would take you out flying. And good for you and them, you’d fallen in love with it. 

Commercial flying hadn’t been for you, because you’re more of an easy-going spontaneous free-bird. And so private jets it was, and private clients it became. Harry soaked up absolutely everything you said, and your eyes lit up when Harry talked about the spitfires they’d used on the set of Dunkirk. You had so many questions - intellectually impressive questions - and Harry blushed to think he would never be able to answer them. 

As evening came around, you sighed as you checked your watch. “I must be off. Got to get through some check-ins and prep for tomorrow. But I’ll tell you what, Harry, should we ever meet again or you need a ride anywhere, I’d be happy to be of service. First flight’s on me, yeah?” you winked as you handed him your card and stood. He scrambled to follow suit as he offered his hand but you gave him another world-class smile and pulled him in for a hug. 

“T’was lovely meeting you, Harry. You’ve defied all expectations and made my day quite less boring than it usually is.”

“Likewise,” Harry smiled, “And I will definitely be taking you up on that offer.”

“I look forward to it.”

And from there, you and Harry started to work together. Harry had never really liked traveling, but when he showed up at the hanger and saw you standing outside the door smiling at him, it made everything so much better. At first it had just been flights here and there while you continued to work with other clients. But as the months dragged on and Harry realized he selfishly didn’t want to share you, Harry took you on as his private pilot for his tour and personal life. 

And this came at a perfect time for you considering the amount of jackasses you’d had to fly that you were getting quite tired of. You loved working for Harry. He was sweet, paid well, respectful, and you never felt you were flying anywhere that would drag on. Harry and everyone he surrounded himself with were a joy to be around, and you found yourself enjoying each flight more and more. After asking sheepishly a couple of times prior, Harry finally would start to hang out in the cockpit with you from time to time, just standing in the doorway of the one-pilot jet crunching on crisps or apples as you flew, laughed, and chatted with one another. Though you were his pilot and he was your boss, you also became friends. 

And God, Harry loved it. He loved the idea of spending countless hours with you and knowing that you were being cared for while also doing what you loved. He loved your style, how confident you were, and how you held yourself and you business to such high esteem. You were always punctual, honest, and you never seemed to be in any mood other than calmly content. All Harry’s friends came to adore you, and whenever Harry would offer a trip to someone, they would always ask if you would be taking them. 

With Harry’s tour starting, Harry found himself in the jet more often than before, but you had no complaints and did nothing but encourage him and pamper him every time he stepped on board. 

Harry watched as you jogged up the steps after making sure all his luggage was taken care of. He’d watched from the window as you gave Greg, his bodyguard, a hug and Greg offered you a plate of cookies his wife had made. Your smile shone as you thanked him, giving him a loving pat on the arm before jogging up the steps and wiggling your eyebrows over the plate of cookies.

“Would you like any?” you asked, “I’m not really a chocolate fan, I must admit.”

You looked particularly cute today, and Harry appreciated that you weren’t in normal pilot attire (even though he’d definitely had tens too many dreams about you in a sexy pilot costume that he would inevitably rip off at some point). He felt his cheeks warming just at the thought and slight humiliation of what was going through his mind as he sat up and cleared his throat. 

“I will never understand how you don’t love chocolate like the rest of the human race,” he sighed, taking a cookie off the plate before you set them on the table before him. 

“Well, when your grandmum owns a chocolate shop and you sneak one to many sweets as a wee-one, you lose your interest when it’s handed to you easily,” you sighed, brushing the crumbs off your hands as you patted down your skirt. 

“Then it’s the thrill that gets you to like something?” Harry asked, smiling up at you and you couldn’t help but wonder how he could be so adorable. 

“It’s the chase for sure,” you nodded, sending him a wink, “Makes everything more fun and adventurous, don’t you think? With my sweets, my career, my men. It’s always about the chase.”

This nearly made Harry choke on his cookie as he thought of the idea of you having men chase after you. “And who would be the one chasing? You, or your men?”

“Definitely the men,” you laughed, “Alright love, now buckle up. I want to get you to England in one piece and you know the drill.”

Harry’s shaking hands fumbled with the buckle at the idea of men chasing after you as he watched you walk towards the cockpit and close the door behind you. Not moments later, your voice was coming over the intercom. “Cross-checked and ready for departure, Mr. Styles.”

Harry pressed his intercom button, “Thank you Captain. Safe travels.”

“You as well dear,” you said with a chuckle that eased Harry immediately. The flight was quicker than Harry had anticipated, probably because the soft tunes of Fleetwood Mac throughout the jet eased him to sleep for most of the journey, and you were waking him up gently not a moment later.

“We’ve arrived,” you smiled, “Sleep well? You don’t usually sleep the whole flight.” You perched yourself on the edge of the seat before Harry as he slowly shifted to sitting up straight in his seat while rubbing his eyes. His face was puffy from sleep, lips pouted, and hair a mess as he stretched. Seeing you sitting there made him watch to reach out and pull you onto his lap and cuddle you until he was fully awake, but he also wanted you to keep your job and he figured making you uncomfortable due to his own personal feelings was unwarranted and you would fly off without him in an instant. 

��Just tired I guess,” Harry yawned, “Been a lot with all this traveling and the shows. Can’t imagine what it’s like to have to fly everywhere and not be able to sleep. You deserve a raise, love.”

Your cheeks warmed and Harry’s heart hammered as he smiled at the thought of making them pink. You smoothed down your dress again and sighed, “I do worry ‘bout ya from time to time,” you sighed and reached out to flatten his hair to the best of your ability. “You do work hard.”

“M’not the only one,” Harry sighed, “You’ll rest during the shows, yeah?”

You shrugged, picking at your nails as you stood and walked over to the door. “‘M sure the family will find something interesting for me to do on the farm,” you smiled, “Now get out there rockstar, you’ve got shows to perform.” 

Harry wasn’t sure where the kiss on the cheek he gave you came from as he made his way off. It just seemed so natural to reach up and cup your face, kissing you cheek quickly and amicably before jogging down the steps of the flight. But he could feel you tense the moment his lips met your soft skin, and instantly Harry knew he’d crossed some type of boundary. 

You two were friends and you were close, but maybe you weren’t that close yet. 

“Um,” Harry cleared his throat as he got his bags, “Thank you again, Y/N. I hope you have a lovely visit with your family.”

“Of course,” you nodded, “And thank you too, H. Best of luck.”

Harry would be touring (on a bus ugh gross why, he thought) for two weeks now in England, and in that amount of time you’d be going home to visit your family for a bit and take a much needed break. Though Harry would miss you, he was glad you were getting some time off. 

And lovely was the time off indeed. You stayed with your family for a week and a half, enjoying their company, helping out on your family farm, and attending some school functions for your younger sisters. Your family was full of questions, but they were also full of patience, and you appreciated that as you spent some time getting some much deserved rest. By the time you arrived back in London for Harry’s final shows, you were well-rested. 

Harry, on the other hand, was a mess. 

He was tired. He was irritable. He loved being on stage but the moment would get off the tiredness would hit him and he’d slump into a couch to almost instantly be asleep. He had one more show before he was done and the entire tour would be over, and Harry felt guilty for looking forward to it. He loved the attention, the limelight, the crowds chanting his name and his lyrics. He loved every bit of it - he was a self-pronounced narcissist and he was okay with it - but after months on end of the same head pounding when he wakes up in the morning, he could use a break. 

You could see he was a bit more tired than usual when you stopped by to approve travel plans the day of the final show. Harry was in makeup, which you secretly found hysterical, and only half his face was done when he saw you with your iPad and eyebrows raised, iPad clutched to your chest. You were dressed for the chilly autumn air and still looked professional as ever. 

Harry wondered what you would look like with casual clothes on, or just woken up. In fact, he wondered that quite often (enough to know he probably shouldn’t) and the idea of it all kept creeping back into his mind. Did he really have a crush on his pilot? 

Shaking these thoughts from his mind, he sat up a bit more in his seat and gestured you over. 

“Miss Y/LN, I promise you this isn’t a normal thing,” he grumbled, shifting slightly in his seat and giving the makeup artist a look to signify that they would start again once he was finished with you. You gave him a soft smile, offering him the iPad with the flight itineraries as he sighed and rubbed his eye - the non-makeuped eye - and blinked a few times. 

“Yeah looks good,” he nodded. It was so interesting to you how half his face looked lively and young, while the other seemed sunken in and withered. He looked tired, and not the kind of tired that he was when he was asleep on the plane, but more just bone-tired and exhausted. You almost wanted to reach out and give him a hug, but you figured that wasn’t the most professional way to go. 

“Final show tonight then?” you asked as you took the iPad back once Harry had signed it. He nodded and sat back in the chair, head resting on the top as he closed his eyes. 

“Yeah. Just gotta survive tea with my mum first and then the show and I’m home free,” he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he let out a loud yawn. 

“You’re putting on makeup to meet with your mum?” you asked before realizing you were probably stepping over some sort of boundary. Harry opened one eye to look at you as his makeup artist continued to get to work on the other side of his face. 

“Well, Anne’ll probably ‘ave a fit if she sees me the way ‘am right now,” he sighed as the makeup artist tilted his head up to get along his neck. “Figured I might as well ‘ave it taken care of now.”

You chuckled and clutched the iPad to your chest. “In that case then I wish you all the best,” you nodded before taking a step back, “I’ll ‘ave the plane prepped ‘nd ready for you tonight.”

“Thank you Y/N,” Harry nodded, “Really. And if ya see my mum on the way out, could you just stall ‘er a bit?”

“You want me to stall your mum?”

Harry hesitated, “S’not quite your job, innit?”

The worst part was that Harry couldn’t even tell if you were uncomfortable or not. You always seemed to at ease with everything you were doing and so confident in the way you held yourself. He was stepping over boundaries, this whole conversation was, and he knew that it wasn’t right. You were just his pilot, no matter what feelings he was feeling for you, and any conversations you had while he was on your plane were all in good fun. Yes, you were friends - it’s always good to be good friends with your employees - but there was something professional and sophisticated about it all that even seeing you in a place that wasn’t the plane even was throwing him for a bit of a loop. 

“Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll take care of it,” you sent him another one of your smiles, the ones that shone like sunshine and sang like a canary. He watched you walk out of the room, your dress swishing a bit as your heels calmly made their way across the floor and Harry felt the need to rub his face but stopped when he realized he was still three layers away from being finished. 

It was twenty minutes later before he was grabbing his phone and walking out of the room. It was the laughter that he heard first before he turned the corner. It was your laughter, sweet like nectar and airy like wind chimes that raised goosebumps all over his body. And then when it was mixed with his mum’s, well, that just made him freak out a bit. 

“Mum,” he cleared his throat, “Sorry ‘bout makin’ ya wait.”

“Oh love it’s no worry!” Anne smiled as she stood and gave Harry a gripping hug. “Y/N was telling me your meeting was running late. Always happy to be accompanied by such lovely people.”

Anne stepped aside and Harry gave you a small, slightly embarrassed and guilty smile. But you did nothing but smile back brightly, giving him a bit of a wink that nearly almost had him falling at your feet. 

“You didn’t tell me your pilot was such a wonderful person!” Anne chastised her son, “I wish to have met Y/N earlier! You need to tell me these things more, H!”

“M’sorry Mum!” Harry chuckled and slung his arm around his mum’s shoulders, “Y/N’s a great pilot. She makes sure I get wherever I need to go safely, and makes sure I’m nothing but happy too. That doesn’t hurt much.”

“Well of course not,” Anne rolled her eyes, “You know, Y/N, we’re just about to head off for some tea. Would you care to join us?”

Harry knew he must have looked like The Scream painting right in that moment and was afraid he was going to sweat off all the damn makeup. Mums are great and all, but they also have a canny knack for ruining things through literally nothing but their naive kindness. Harry’s eyes widened, his mouth parted to reply and make up some stammering excuse, but Y/N beat him to it in a graceful and loving way.

“I would love to join,” you nodded, gracing Anne with the most kind of smiles that left your eyes scrunching with sincerity. Anne smiled triumphantly before making her way off to the car as Harry fell back with Y/N.

“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, “She’s cute, but you don’t have to say yes to everything she asks.”

“Oh but you should,” you chastised him. “She’s such a lovely woman. She’s lonely, Harry, can’t you see? You should visit home more. It’s not every day you get to spend time just sitting back and drinking tea with your mum, and you should take advantage of every opportunity you get.”

Harry was struck by these words, mostly because he was used to getting advice from Y/N, but never like this. Y/N noticed far more than Harry had imagined. He knew she was sharp as a whip, but she seemed receptive to absolutely everything and everyone around her. He was immensely impressed, but the warmth in his heart quickly started to turn into a burning inferno as he wondered, had she noticed his budding feelings for her? 

The panic chilled in Harry’s chest as they drove to the tea shop not far from the venue. Anne and Y/N talked the whole way about Y/N’s childhood and where she’d been raised. You talked about your farm, and the first horse you’d ever tamed, and you mentioned how being a pilot was kind of in your blood. 

“Her dad flew for the RAF,” Harry input as he awaited his tea. You being with his mum wasn’t as painful or awkward as he’d figured, but he did feel as though he was invisible. His mum loved meeting new people, but sometimes he got a bit jealous after she didn’t pay enough attention to him. 

“Oh that’s exciting!” Anne smiled, “And your granddad as well?”

“Yes in the Second World War,” you nodded and lifted your cup to your lips. 

“I told her I’d take her to the Dunkirk hangers at some point before they’re taken down. Ya know, those promo ones they got?” Harry asked, smiling at you as you gave him a nod of encouragement back. 

“That would be lovely!” Anne smiled. She reached for a tray of small sweets before offering them to you.

“Oh no thank you,” you smiled, “M’not a big chocolate fan, I must admit.”

“Yeah,” Harry snorted, “S’why m’defiintely convinced she’s an alien.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh come of it!” you threw your head back, “And you still get on my plane knowing I could very well be from Mars.”

“Fly me back ta your planet?” Harry shrugged, “T’would make great in the papers, love. ‘First Rockstar to Mars, Mr. Harry Styles’ plastered all over.”

“Usin’ me for the papers,” you tsked, “Thought you knew better.”

“I bet your flights are quite fun,” Anne mused, looking between the two of you.

“He bothers me in the pit quite often,” you nodded, “Stands back there in the doorway munchin’ on his crisps and ‘v got ta clean up after him like a child.”

“Hey,” Harry pouted, fumbling with his bottom lip as he smiled at you and you smiled back. Any awkwardness between the two of you had fizzled out at this point. Remnants of the kiss on the cheek he’d given you earlier seemed to have diminished and whatever boundaries Harry had been nervous about had dissipated. Hell, his arm was even on the back of your chair and you weren’t leaning away.

“Well this was such fun,” Anne smiled, “Y/N dear, please if you’re ever in the area do stop by. And Harry,” she glared at her son, “Introduce me to more nice people from time to time, will ya love?”

“Oi Mum!” Harry cried, “Y/N’s just special, yeah?”

He saw your cheeks flare a bit from this and he cleared his throat, riding his cup of the rest of his tea before standing. “‘v got ta get back,” he mumbled, “Everything’s set up at the show for ya Mum.”

“And Y/N, will you be going?” Anne asked. 

“Oh! Um ...” Your mouth formed a cute and small ‘o’ as you looked up to Harry as if for confirmation. You’d never been to one of his shows. You’d hear him sing often on the plane, and you’d listened to his album multiple times. But you’d always been busy during his shows with prepping for the concert. But this time you weren't leaving until two hours after the show. Maybe you could make it?

“If you’re not busy,” Harry started, feeling his chest beating rapidly, “I’d love ta ‘ave ya there?”

You look down at your watch as you walked out of the shop and Harry awaited your response for what seemed like ages. “I’d love to go, H,” you smiled, “Let me just make sure everything is prepped and ready to go before, yeah?”

“‘Course,” Harry nodded, hands clasped behind his back as he leaned forward a bit and rocked on his feet. “Yeah whatever works.”

“Thank you,” you nodded as Anne went over to get the car. “It was nice bein’ around a mum for a change.”

Harry knit his eyebrows together in confusion, “Thought you’d just spent the whole week with your family?”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled at him as the two of you stood a bit closer than necessary to keep out of the wind. “But my mum passed on when I was about 12 or so,” you shrugged.

Harry felt his heart pounding as he didn’t think before reaching out and giving you a hug. You couldn’t help but laugh at Harry’s pouting face and his strong arms wrapped around you as you softly hugged him back. “It’s okay, Harry. It happened ages ago. M’all better now.”

Harry pulled away and cleared his throat, adjusting his sweater as he nodded. “Oh shit. I um ...” Harry gestured to your shoulder where he’d rested his cheek and a patch of makeup seemed to have rubbed off. This made you laugh even harder as you brushed it off a bit and cradled his cheek in your hand. 

“You’re something else Harry Styles,” you laughed before an alarm went off on your phone and Harry sucked in a breath as you pulled your hand from his skin to check it. “Alright,” you informed him, “I’m gonna go get things ready and then maybe see you at your show. Exciting, innit?”

“Very,” Harry nodded, reaching down for a hug again and trying his luck with a kiss on your cheek once more. You didn’t shy away as he stepped back and gave you a bit of a nod, “See ya later then.”

You gave him a smile before ducking into the cab you’d called down and making your way back to the airport. Harry seemed to wait on pins and needles to know whether or not you’d be coming to the show. You didn’t text him, or call, or even send any sort of confirmation to anyone about whether or not you’d be there. Everyone figured Harry was only slightly more nervous for his final show, but in reality he was just nervous to perform in front of you.

Why should he be though? You were nothing but sweet and supportive. You wouldn’t turn him away if you didn’t like his performance. You’d said you enjoyed his music and you always cheered him on and laughed whenever he sang on the jet, but now things could be different and Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

But he put those feelings aside for the show. He knew he had a job to do and he didn’t want the emotional roller coaster going on in his heart to ruin an experience for all the fans who had come to see him. That wasn’t right. And besides, when he turned and looked to his mum he felt like he was suddenly flatlining, because there you were sitting beside her smiling and clapping along with her. Dancing around a bit as his mum laughed. 

You were here and you were gorgeous. Your eyes caught as he adjusted his ear piece and looked up at you and his mum. You looked over to Anne who was checking something on her phone and Harry knew that you were realizing he was looking and smiling at you. You couldn’t help but wave and give him a thumbs up, and Harry felt his entire body light on fire right in that moment.

The rest of the show seemed to have some sort of energy Harry didn’t even know possible. He felt reenergized after being tired for so long, and even his band could tell that there was something electric about the way Harry was performing. Afterwards was a crowd of hugs, kisses, laughter and tears as the tour was now officially over. Harry enjoyed every moment he spent with the people who had made it possible, but when he caught a glimpse of your shimmery purple, he was quick to turn towards you as you barreled towards him (still completely elegant and graceful, of course, Harry thought). 

“Harry!” you cried, jumping up to hug him as Harry held you close and closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of your body locked close against his as he took in your scent. Your feet were off the ground as you laughed and Harry held you close, one hand tangled in your hair and the other around your waist keeping you to him. 

Finally he set you down though and you brushed some hair from your face. “Oh Harry that was amazing,” you nodded. Your hands were on his shoulders and they ran down his arms to his forearms as he held your waist and smiled at you as you talked. “You were great! Truly I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed it; I have so many things to say!” Your eyes were bright and your cheeks flushed but Harry couldn’t smell any alcohol on you, and he knew you never drank while working. This was a natural high that he’d created. 

He felt proud.

“‘M glad ya liked it!” Harry called over all the noise, “What did ya think of -”

Harry was cut off by your phone going off and you looked down at it, some of the light draining from your eyes as you sighed. “Oh, Harry I’m so sorry I wish I could talk to you more but I have to go prep,” you nodded, “But I’ll see you in two hours! We can talk more then!”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, “‘M keepin’ ya to that!” he called after you as you jogged off, waving over your shoulder as you pushed the door open. Harry turned back to his band as they all enveloped him in cheers and cries to victory that seemed to last the next two hours. 

“We’re not finishing this celebration yet!” someone cried as they all packed up their bags. “Drinks on me on the jet!”

“Oh wait no,” Harry turned and gave his band a confused look, “Thought ya had another flight?”

“What? Think you could get rid of us that easily? Your jet’s big enough for all of us. Y/N loves us!”

Harry didn’t know what to say to this. What he really wanted to say was, “You’re not allowed on my jet. Y/N and I were going to hang out and I was going to try and kiss her, you tosser.” But instead he just let it happen as they all drove up to the hanger and Harry noticed you were off to the side going over some last minute paperwork as the band all crowded into the jet. He felt awful.

He watched as you jogged up the steps, eyes still bright as you said, “Okay love, are you - oh!” No one else might have noticed the split-second your face registered a bit of shock before your face turned bright with a smile he knew was still genuine, but maybe not as sincere as others. “Hello everyone,” you smiled, “Good to see you all. Great show tonight!”

“Thank you Y/N!” the whole jet seemed to chorus as Y/N met Harry’s eyes and she gave him a quick wink. 

“Well buckle up everyone,” you said, “It’ll be a long flight so make yourselves comfortable!”

Harry waited until not a second after the seatbelt sign was off before scrambling towards the cockpit and knocking three times. “Yes?” you asked from behind the door before Harry opened it, leaning against the doorway and clearing his throat. 

“‘M sorry Y/N,” he sighed, “They kinda overpowered me.”

“Oh H, it’s fine!” you turned and smiled at him, a small laugh following. “I know you want to spend your time with your band. You just completed a great tour. You should be immensely proud.”

“Yeah well,” Harry shrugged.

“I know I’m proud of you,” you said earnestly and Harry’s eyes finally came up to meet yours. 

“Yeah?” he asked, a smile finally finding it’s way onto his face.

“Oh definitely,” you nodded, “You were so amazing. I knew you were a performer, but that was an experience for sure.”

“Glad you could make it then. I know my mum appreciated it too,” Harry nodded.

“Now as much as I’d love to talk with you, Harry, you look completely beat and I want you to get some sleep.”

“I’ve got plenty of time to sleep now that the tour’s over,” Harry waved that off, “I want to talk with you.” You watched as he sunk down along the wall and sat with his legs stretched out in front of him. He was like a child, an adorable child, and you couldn’t help but smile as you flicked onto auto-pilot and turned to him. 

“Alright then,” you sighed, “What’s your favorite song to perform?”

When the flight was over, Harry had to wake everyone up so they could depart. With tired smiles and mumbled, “Thank you”s the band lumbered off the flight, each giving you a hug which you kindly and warmly returned by rubbing their backs and and giving them a good squeeze. 

Harry was last off as he watched you look down at your watch and try your best to shake off a yawn. “Let it out,” Harry chuckled and you gave him a look before the yawn took over and you were stretching up, cracking your neck and rubbing your eyes. “There ya go,” he chuckled.

“As unprofessional as that was,” you chuckled tiredly, “I needed that.”

“Well, take some time off, yeah?” Harry suggested, “‘M not plannin’ on travelin’ much soon.”

“Good,” you nodded, “You need a break far more than I do. Please take some time,” you urged, gripping his arms before you stepped back and offered Harry a hug. “Rest well,” you whispered as Harry held you.

Harry closed his eyes once again taking in your scent and feel against him. He let out a long sigh, hunkering down a bit and nuzzling his nose into your neck as you chuckled and pulled away awkwardly at that. You sucked in a big breath which hitched a bit before you gave Harry another smile. “Just let me know whenever you’d like to go anywhere, okay?”

Harry nodded and made his way to his car. You had pulled away from his hug. Was it just because you were tired? Was it because he was getting too close? You went to tea with his mum for Christ’s sake! These thoughts kept Harry awake as he drove home that night and were on his mind as he went to bed. And he meant what he said, that he wasn’t planning on traveling anytime soon. He was looking forward to Netflix and his bed and avocado toast for the next couple of weeks. 

That all changed though when he received a call from one of his mates Josh a couple days later. “‘lo mate,” Harry yawned as he stretched in bed and stuffed his face into his pillow.

“Harry! Hey man! Look, some of us were thinking of getting together in NYC to support Amelia’s art show on Friday. Wanna come support?!”

Amelia was a sweet girl. A little fairy of a girl with red hair and freckles that reminded him a bit too much of the orphan Annie with it’s reckless curliness. He was tired, exhausted even, but he needed to be there for his friends, sure. 

“Yeah mate just text me the details and I’ll fly out.”

“Sick! See you there man!”

You had her arms crossed and your eyebrows knit together cutely (in Harry’s opinion) when he rolled up at the jet hanger on Friday morning while it was still dark out. He took off his sunglasses as he pinched the bridge of his nose and shouldered his bag. 

“What happened to taking a break?” you asked, “It’s been two days.”

“Yeah well a friend has an art show opening tonight,” Harry yawned, “Gotta show my support. She’s a sweet girl.”

You didn’t say anything to this as you started walking up the steps and into the cockpit, not sticking around as Harry situated himself. “You alright love?” Harry called right as Y/N was about to close the door.

“Fine, H,” you turned and gave Harry a smile that would have normally melted his worry and eased him right away. But it didn’t quite reach your eyes and your face wasn’t bright with warmth and love so Harry pouted.

You rolled your eyes and smoothed out your skirt as you stepped back into the cabin and offered Harry a pillow.

“Really, Harry, I’m fine. Get some sleep, okay? I’ll wake you when we’re almost there.” 

You didn’t often accompany Harry wherever he went. When you had worked with other clients, you’d always gone to their events to be there right when they were ready to leave, or you’d stayed on the jet at all times. But with Harry things had been a bit easier with him just texting you always at least an hour before he was ready to go. He trusted you to go off and do your own thing while always being able to be back and ready to go whenever he was.

So Harry was a bit surprised when you slide into the car with him as you arrived in New York. “What?” you asked in response to his raised eyebrows. “I hate New York, and I don’t fancy sitting on that jet for much longer so I’ll just hide in the background. Besides, I like art.”

“I know,” Harry nodded, “I’m just surprised you’re not running off to some coffee shop with free wifi.”

“I can’t fit into a fancy art show?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as Harry winced.

“Love, no. That’s not -”

“I’m messing with you, H,” you chuckled and looked down at your phone, “Just let me know when I need to go and get the jet ready for you, okay?”

“You know, I can wait while you do all that at the hanger, right? I don’t mind.”

“Not professional,” you shook your head as you arrived at the building where the rooftop art show was taking place. “Just let me know,” you nodded before sliding out of the car.

Harry should have been paying attention to all his friends. They were the reason he was here obviously. And Amelia was through the roof when she saw Harry. But he couldn’t keep his attention on them when you were standing and talking to someone about a work of art, or when you were sitting at the bar with a flute of champagne, or when you were reading a brochure. You were effortlessly gorgeous and care-free. And he was head over heels for you.

And you were also struggling a bit. You obviously cared so much for Harry, or else you wouldn’t have taken the offer to be his private pilot. But seeing him look so tired and uninterested among his friends, only to smile and laugh with them and act normal when they had their attention on him was concerning to you. He needed a break, but he was too nice to stop his life for a nap. But you weren’t anything more than his pilot - sure, his friend, yeah - but it would be unprofessional to say anything else.

So you kept you mouth closed when Harry slept the entire flight back to LA. You also didn’t say anything when he went to a birthday party in Seattle three days later, or flew to Colorado for a baby shower two days after that. You just let it fester in your chest as you flew, knowing that Harry was being run thin. 

Harry noticed you become a bit more distant than usual, and he felt bad that maybe he was overworking you. He offered to hire another pilot for some trips just so you could catch a break, but the amount of force you used to say that no, you were just fine with being his pilot, was quite surprising to him. You shot the idea down so quickly that he nearly blinked before you were slamming the door shut to the cockpit. 

Harry’s trip to France though was much more rushed than the previous ones, and Harry noticed by your natural hair and outfit that you hadn’t had as much time to prepare for this one and he felt awful.

 He’d gotten the call at around nine in the morning that his friend Scott was going to be previewing his indie film and Harry had promised he’d be there - and he’d forgotten. 

As soon as Harry saw you, he started apologizing. “Y/N!” he started, “I’m so sorry! I know that this is super last minute and I totally forgot but it’s been in my calendar and for some reason I thought I’d already told you but -”

“Harry,” you cut him off by holding up your hand and giving him a soft smile, “It’s fine. Strap in, okay? This’ll be a long flight.”

Harry just sat there feeling nothing but guilty as he watched the jet take off out the window. God, he’d really messed up. He’d tried to be nothing but professional and easy for you, and here he was dragging you all across the world with only a few hours notice. 

Harry usually played music during his flights over the speakers, or slept, or was doing something, but when you peeked through the crack to check on him, he wasn’t doing anything but staring out the window with his hands clasped in his lap. Sometimes he looked down at his hands, sometimes he rubbed his eyes. But that was about it. 

Though you knew this was unprofessional, you couldn’t stomach it any longer and you hit the intercom button. 

“This is your Captain speaking. She’s concerned about you and was wondering if she could come back there to chat?”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at this. Whenever it was just him flying, you often had conversations over the intercoms. But it had been a while with the tense nature between the two of you and hearing your voice soothed him instantly.

“Considering it’s only you and me on this private jet, and you’re the pilot, shouldn’t you be occupied flying this machine?” he asked once he’d pressed the button and he swore he could have heard you laugh in the cockpit.

“That’s what auto-pilot is for, love."

“Then by all means come and take a seat,” Harry said, sitting up more and watching as you stepped out of the cockpit and let out a long sigh, giving him a once over before you walked over and sat down opposite him. 

“Hello pilot,” Harry gave you a sleepy smile and you reached out to push a curl from his forehead.

“Hello rockstar.”

“Listen, I know this was super last minute and I get that it wasn’t the most professional thing to do, but I promise that it won’t happen again and -”

“Harry, really, I’m not mad about it,” you put your arms up in defense, “I’m just worried ‘bout ya, love.” 

Harry felt his face heating up just from the fact that you were worried about him. It felt good to know someone out there was looking out for him, and knowing that it was you, that was even better. 

“I have a feeling I’m not the only one on auto-pilot right now,” you bit your lip, “It’s one thing to travel for your job and your work, and I get that sometimes that can become busy and stressful, but you have to put your health first Harry, or else you won’t be able to do that job that you love so much.”

You got up from your seat as Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly and perched yourself on the arm of his large seat. “I know that you’re a sweet and wonderful person and you care so much about others, but I’ve been watching you for almost two weeks now nearly push yourself to exhaustion because you’ve been traveling here and there merely because a friend asks. You can say no, you know.”

Harry groaned and rested his head back as he looked up at you. You usually had your hair up when you worked, but as he looked up at you now, your hair was framing your face and flowing freely down your shoulders. You looked beautiful and concerned, and that made his body buzz. 

“I know I shouldn’t be spreading myself so thin,” Harry groaned, “But majority of the year is all about me and all the things I’m doing. It’s about my job and my music and my friends come out to support me. So when I get time off and have the time to spend for others, I just feel obligated to take that.”

You nodded as you listened to Harry speak, and it almost seemed second nature that you reached up and started massaging his scalp. Harry closed his eyes and hummed lowly because of course you would be doing this. Of course you would know exactly what to do in order to calm him down and put him at ease.

“I think the solution to your problem is simple, H,” you whispered, “You can’t be there for your friends and your family if you’re not fully invested. And if you’re not putting your health first, then your mind will be elsewhere and you might even miss more things if your health declines. I want what’s best for you, and I know that I’m probably stepping over so many lines on my contract by coming back here and lecturing you but -”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “No, you’re not. You’re my friend, Y/N, first and foremost. I didn’t hire you because of your impeccable flying and great skills as a pilot, even though those are top notch and you’re basically the Wonder Woman of the skies,” you chuckled at his as Harry looked up and smiled at you, reaching lazily for your hip that was sidling up next to him as you rested on the arm rest. “But I hired you because I knew I could be myself around and trust you and that’s all you’ve ever provided for me, and for that I thank you.”

You were smiling again with that bright and loving smile full of wonder and appreciation that Harry could easily get lost in. Reaching up from his reclined position, Harry cupped your cheek with his larger hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone and watching in awe as your eyes fluttered shut and you leaned into his hand. 

“I um ...” you cleared your throat and bit your lip as you pulled away from Harry’s touch. Your hand left his scalp and you stood slowly and gracefully from the seat. “I have to get back to ... the flying thing,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “Yeah yeah of course.”

“I’m glad we had this talk,” you said earnestly, “Maybe after this you call it quits on the events for a while? Get some much deserved rest, yeah?”

“Yeah love,” Harry nodded, “That sounds good.”

“Right,” you cleared your throat again and made your way back into the cockpit, closing the door behind you. There was nothing Harry wanted more than to follow you in there and demand you both talk out your feelings. It was becoming more aware to him that maybe he wasn’t the only one harboring the feelings he was, and that maybe they were mutual. But he didn’t want to push his luck, and he knew that coming back here and talking to him was a big step for you and he didn’t want to overdo it or push it in any way. 

He fell asleep shortly after that, and when he awoke, you were standing over him again gently shaking his shoulder, your hair falling into your face again and Harry realized he really, really loved you with your hair down. 

“Hey,” you whispered softly, “We’re here.”

Harry nodded, stretching up as you pulled out his bag and waited in the hallway for him to disembark as you lowered the door. 

“Pleasure flying with you as usual, Mr. Styles,” you nodded, hands clasped in front of you as Harry shouldered his bag and pocketed his phone. 

“The pleasure was all mine,” Harry smiled and reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he gave you a soft smile. In a moment of confidence, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, grasping the back of your head gently before he pulled away. “This shouldn’t take long. I’ll call.”

“Yes thank you,” you mumbled, not meeting his eyes before turning back to the cockpit. 

Harry fell asleep during the film. He didn’t mean to, and he knew people noticed, but considering his face was basically consumed by the bags under his eyes, he knew his friends understood. He decided to stay the night and texted you that if you’d like to stay in the same hotel, he’d be happy to buy you a room. You showed up to his hotel not a half hour later, hair lazily placed in two braids and a comfortable dress wrapped around your body. 

God, Harry thought, you were so cute and stunning. 

Harry was waiting in the lobby and he smiled when he saw you walk through gracefully and with purpose with your small bag being rolled behind you. 

“Hey,” he said as he met you and went to take your bag but you gestured that you got it, “I’ve been trying to call you and you haven’t been answering.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, “My phone died and I forgot my charger. Have I kept you waiting long?” you asked, always the polite one.

“No, no that’s not it. You’re just on time,” Harry smiled, “Just that they didn’t have anymore rooms and but they didn’t have any available and so um, well ... yeah.” Harry wasn’t sure why he felt so embarrassed. You were both adults and had been kept to tight confines before quite often. But in that moment he felt like he might die and he was sure the entire lobby could hear his heart beating rapidly.

“Oh that’s fine, Harry, I don’t mind,” you smiled, “Don’t worry about it.” You patted his arm as you walked past him towards the elevator. “What floor?”

The elevator ride was quiet at first before you cleared your throat, “So how was the movie?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. I fell asleep,” Harry chuckled.

“Oh Mr. Styles,” you tsked, “How unprofessional.”

“Yeah well I haven’t been the most professional as of late,” Harry sighed. “Here we are.” He opened the door for you and you placed your bag down on the couch. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harry asked.

“I’m placing my bag on my bed. I -”

“No you’re not,” Harry shook his head, “Take the bed. What do ya think I am? An animal?”

“Harry,” you put your hands on your hips to protest and start some speech but Harry wasn’t here any of it. 

“No way,” he shook his head and took your bag as he carried it easily into the bedroom where the king sized bed awaited you. “You’re sleeping in here. I won’t hear anything else so don’t even try,” he said as he whirled around and you nearly bumped into his chest as you followed behind him quite closely. 

“If you think for a second that I’m going to -”

“I do think for all the seconds,” Harry nodded, “Don't fight me on this, Y/N. You will lose. I will wrestle you if that’s what it comes to and I’m like, twice your height.”

“My dad taught me how to fight,” you said cutely and brought up your fists.

“That’s adorable, sweetheart,” Harry smirked, “But that couch is calling my name and I’ve slept on many before. One of my redeeming qualities is that I can fall asleep anywhere, so please,” he stepped aside, “After you.”

Harry sat down on the couch once you retreated into the room, and when he heard you approaching again he didn’t think anything of it. “Would you like some water?” you asked.

“Oh that would be lovely thank -” Harry stopped as he saw you and nearly fell to the ground at the sight of you. You were in pajamas, the most elegant pajamas Harry had ever seen and your hair had been pulled from the braids, wavy and falling around your shoulders. 

You noticed him ogling you, lost for words, and you blushed. “I didn’t know we would be staying the night or I would have um ... I wouldn’t have brought such ...”

“You look great,” Harry squeaked, turning away because he knew he couldn’t control himself, “Shit,” he whispered and squeezed his eyes closed.

“Here you go,” you whispered, handing him the cup of water and sitting with your legs curled up under yourself on the seat to the right of him. Harry still wasn’t meeting your eyes, in fact he was looking in the opposite direction, and you realized that you were making him uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you stood, “I can go put on a sweater. I know these are ... I bought them once for an occasion and I haven’t done laundry so ...”

“You bought them for an occasion?” Harry asked, finally turning and looking at you, “You had an occasion for those?”

He watched your cheeks heat up as you let your hair fall in your face. He’d never seen you like this before. You were always the confident and bold type, and yet here you were shy in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest and shying away. 

“I was engaged,” you mumbled, “Bought them for the honeymoon. We were going to Venice.”

“You were engaged,” Harry rose his eyebrows and stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m uh ... I’m sorry?”

“Oh no,” you rolled your eyes, “Found him in bed with one of his friends weeks before the wedding. We rushed into the engagement. It was years ago,” you waved it off.

“I never knew,” Harry whispered.

“We don’t ... talk about, you know, this kind of stuff,” you shrugged and gave him a half-hearted smile. “How would you know?”

“I wish we did,” Harry said honestly, “I wish we talked about this kind of stuff. I wish we were more open with each other. I wish I knew everything about you. I wish I knew what your favorite color is, what dessert you prefer since you don’t like chocolate. I wish you told me your fears, you future plans, your likes and dislikes. I wish I knew your thoughts. I wish you trusted me enough to share your thoughts with me.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heels of his hands into his itchy eyes as he felt the need to allow tears to fall. “God, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he shook his head, “I’ve been compressing these feelings for months, I just ... You are so loving and confident and I am so in awe of you.”

Harry let his hands fall as he looked at you standing before him, glass of water in your hands as you watched his face earnestly. “I ... I haven’t said anything because, well, because it wouldn’t be professional and I was afraid of losing you as a pilot, you know? But now we’re in a hotel room in Paris and you’re wearing the absolute best pajamas I’ve ever seen in my life and we’ve basically passed every professional line there is to cross.”

You placed your glass down slowly and Harry felt his whole world slow down. “Harry ...” you cleared your throat and reached your arms out. He willingly nearly fell into your arms for the hug you were offering, digging his nose into your neck as he tightened his grip around your waist, bunching the material of your pajamas in his fists as you ran your dainty hands up and down his back. 

You fingers ran up his broad back to nestle in the base of his neck, gripping to the hair there as Harry bent over slightly and you clung to him as he tried to consume more of you and all of you. 

“I think you’re going to have to get a new pilot,” you whispered, pulling away from Harry and brushing your fingertips across his face.

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut as two tears sprang from his left eye, a sniffle contorting his face as the force of knowing how you felt about him nearly broke him down to his knees. 

“I really thought ... I feel so dumb. I -”

“No, no no Harry,” you stepped forward and cupped his face in both your hands as you ducked down slightly to capture his gaze. “You need to get a new pilot because I don’t trust myself to keep a professional lifestyle as your pilot when I’ll want to be sitting next to you. I care for you Harry, so much, and ... and it’s been difficult for me to do my job when I’m around you. Do you know how difficult it was for me to know that you were flying across the country just to attend some girl’s art show? The jealously I felt was embarrassing,” you chuckled as Harry looked at you in awe.

“Yeah?” was all he seemed to be able to form together. You did feel something for him. You cared about him. You appreciated him probably as much as he appreciated you. Oh God, you did care for him. 

He let out a small chuckle through his tears, stepping away for a moment to wipe them from his eyes as you smiled at him and laughed as well. 

“I’m gonna kiss ya now,” Harry mumbled and waited for your nod before diving forward and capturing your lips with his. His arms snaked around your waist, arching your back as he pulled you flush against him and your once more allowed your fingers to find purchase in his curls. Your lips were soft and eased every concern from Harry’s overworking brain as he felt the need to kiss you until his lungs collapsed. 

Pulling away, you both had flushed cheeks and swollen lips as Harry leaned back in to give you a soft peck. “You can come and sleep in the bed,” you whispered, “But I’m not promising any funny business.”

“I promise,” Harry chuckled, nuzzling his head once more into your neck. 

“I’m going to have to find new clients,” you sighed as Harry wrapped his arms around you once you were both in bed. 

“No,” Harry shook his head as he nearly consumed you and wrapped himself around you, clinging to you like a koala. “No I think we can make it work,” he mumbled against your skin. “Don’t want ya goin’ back to Jack.”

You laughed, “Oh God that would be awful.”

“Besides,” Harry yawned and kissed your shoulder, “If ya were ma’pilot then we could do it while ya put the jet on auto-pilot.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you ran your fingers through Harry’s hair. “Oh love, that’s not how auto-pilot works. But we can figure it out, sure.”

Harry kissed along you from your shoulder to your collarbone and then back up to your lips. He couldn’t get enough of your skin, the taste of you, and the way your face looked when your eyes fluttered open after a kiss. It was everything he had ever imagined and more. 

“Well, at this point love, I would really follow you anywhere. And I’m not only saying that because you’re the pilot and I’d literally bed allowing you wherever you take me, but more like because I’ve got a bit of the fallin’ in love thing goin’ on.”

You smiled down at him and kissed his forehead, scratching at his scalp as his eyes fluttered closed and he let out a groan while resting his head in the crook of your neck. He felt warm, so impossibly warm and cozy with you that he never wanted this moment to end. “Wherever you go,” you chuckled, “I go.”

“Even if it’s to support some girl in her endeavors?” Harry chuckled.

“Oh shut up and get some sleep,” you laughed, “Some well-deserved sleep, love.”

That night was the best sleep Harry had gotten in a while. In fact, he slept so well that he decided it would be pointless to fly back until the following day and just stay in. You spent the rest of the day in bed watching movies, ordering room service, and talking to get to know each other better. And it was the following night, the night before your departure, that Harry hardly slept. But you didn’t sleep much either until the early hours of the morning and considering the bed head Harry had the next morning and the marks along your collarbones, neither of you minded in the slightest. 

“If ya put us on auto-pilot for a bit on the way back love I’ll give ya a good snog,” Harry whispered, squeezing your bum as the two of you walked up the steps of the jet. 

“So eager to join the Mile High Club, are ya?” you chuckled, “Not all it’s cracked up to be, ya know.”

Harry paused for a moment and regarded you as you set to work. “You are full of so many secrets,” he said in awe, “Teach me your ways.”

“My ways, Harry,” you whispered, running your hands down his chest once the door had closed and giving him a wink, “Will take way longer than auto-pilot will allow.”

You gave him one last wink, pushing him down into his chair, before you walked over to the cockpit. Before closing the door you turned and smiled at Harry, “Enjoy your flight, Mr. Styles.”

--

Let me know if you’d like more one shots like this one! Or if you have any ideas or requests for future writing! Now that my life schedule is more solid, I know my free time and how much of a work load I have, so many more writing like this will surface! Thanks!

ASK

MASTERLIST

[triplerainbowgames]

Representing Diverse Design

Diversity is a word that’s been seeing a substantial increase in usage these days [including on our own website, where it shows up at least half a dozen times!]. It’s for good reason, too - the world is collectively becoming more and more cognizant of how important diversity is, especially in communities with many members that span multiple areas of the world [like the gaming community]. As you may have already seen on the Triple Rainbow Games site, diversity is an integral aspect of both our game design philosophy and our business practices, and this article is going to outline why that is and what it means to us!

Before I dig in, I’ll explain what I mean by diversity so we’re on the same page: 

Diversity is the purposeful recognition and representation of the enormous array of humans that exist on any of myriad spectrums that define who we are, such as race, sexuality, gender identity/expression, religion, political stance, and so on. It’s critical to establish two things regarding representation here: the first is that I’m referring [now and for the rest of the piece] to positive representation of identities, ones that accept and celebrate them. The second is that I feel it’s not enough to mention something in passing or have miniscule side-character representation to display diversity in your game: it needs to be front and center, with meaningful characters and choices. 

Now that the foundation is set, let’s build the rest of the house :)

Diversity is an important and often-overlooked aspect of game and character design, and I feel strongly that it should be focused on more. This isn’t to say there aren’t already a number of games doing great work on the diversity front! It’s definitely been gradually improving over time, but I think we still, collectively - as the global game design community - have a ton of work to do. 

WHY IT’S IMPORTANT

Numerous psychological studies show that humans have a universal need for comfort. It’s hardwired into our brains from our evolutionary roots, and comes part and parcel with the need to achieve homeostasis. What creates that comfort is our psychological pull towards things we’re familiar with. When we interact with things that are familiar, it’s like a mental shortcut to achieving that comfort we all seek. 

A personal anecdote that illustrates this is my mobile phone. I’m an avid fan of the Android OS, but that love stemmed from several years of using version 7.1.2. When I had to get a replacement phone a couple years ago, it came with Android 8, and couldn’t be downgraded to 7.1.2. I could’ve just used the phone enough to acclimate to version 8, but grew increasingly frustrated [read: uncomfortable] with various design choices made in the newer version, including some that actively harmed me [the switch away from the dark mode menu to a white-background-dark-icon one was physically painful to my eyes after a time, for example]. In the end, what I ended up doing was researching what phones available could be downgraded to 7.1.2, and selling my new phone to replace it with the 7.1.2-phone. All that trouble, just to get back to familiar [comforting] territory!

This core drive of the human experience, this need to seek comfort, is especially important in the game design industry. Games are many things to many people, but two of the primary functions they serve are being intellectual stimulation and being an escape mechanism. To both these points, it’s more difficult to interact with games on these axes [which makes it more uncomfortable to play them] when you can’t relate to the materials they present.

EMOTIONAL RESONANCE

Many people love social deduction games, like Werewolf and Secret Hitler. I do not. I feel stressed out and alienated when I play them. This isn’t through any fault of their design, but simply how my brain responds to the stimuli and gameplay patterns of social deduction games. I’m on the autism spectrum, and part of what that entails is I’m not a person that can read subtext or tone well, and I have only rudimentary ability to read body language on the best days. Thus, I generally avoid playing social deduction games in general, and instead favor games that involve resource management, worker placement, and economy engines; they suit my brain much better because I’m able to understand those patterns, as that’s how my day-to-day brain functions. It’s what is most familiar to me, and thus, resonates with me more.

That concept - resonation - is a powerful driving force for what games people will continue to seek out, play, and love. The key is that it’s not just mechanics and systems that people resonate with, but also the art, characters, lore, and so on.

Circling back to my point about games being an escape mechanism: the more you can provide an intellectual/emotional safe haven for players, the more emotional resonance they’ll have with your game. That’s what leads to lifelong players and fans; the players that sing your praises from the rooftops, and try to get all their friends to play with them! This is magnified for players in marginalized and underrepresented groups, who often [always] have less privilege and fewer resources to access those “escapes.” Those things that are familiar and comforting, be they games or otherwise, are an integral aspect of feeling safe and cared for. When you see yourself represented in way fewer things than the majority of people, you can’t help but feel like an outsider. 

REPRESENTATION

With the percentage of people who identify as gamers/game-players increasing year after year and representative of many different demographics compared to outdated stereotypes, it’s critical that we as game designers ensure that we’re representing and celebrating as many different demographics through our characters and lore as possible. 

Representation is, at its core, acceptance of the massive range of identities one can possess. Especially concerning those that often feel like outsiders for not being part of the social norms they’re surrounded by, this is also a celebration of their identity. Celebrating those that are different from you is the first step in creating true equality, I feel! This is especially true in media and entertainment, where SO many things are made for and by the most privileged groups of the populace. Speaking from experience as a queer, nonbinary person on the autism spectrum, having any amount of entertainment celebrate your identity that is predominantly shunned elsewhere is a wondrous miracle!

Just like there’s a difference between diversity as token representation and meaningful diversity, so too is there a world of difference between passive and active diversity. A couple of side characters or passing mentions of marginalized peeps is better than nothing, sure, but it rings hollow if every playable character/game piece is a member of a privileged group. The best way to get people to care about your game isn’t just to let them SEE themselves, but let them PLAY themselves!

DIVERSITY BENEFITS EVERYONE

Here’s a slightly-paraphrased quote from Magic: the Gathering’s lead designer, Mark Rosewater, in his 2019 article Why Diversity Matters in Game Design where he talks about all the less-obvious benefits of diversity in game design: 

“It adds variety to your game. It makes things feel more unique. It also allows all of your players be exposed to things they might really enjoy. Everyone likes seeing themselves represented, but most people also find it freeing to see OTHERS represented too. Maybe it can educate them about something they were previously unaware of. [You might even show someone something that teaches them that they identify with this too, or helps them figure out a different aspect of theirself!] Possibly it can entertain them by allowing them to see things through a different lens. Diversity is not just about letting people see themselves, it’s also about allowing other people to see them as well.”

The enemy of understanding is fear, and people fear the unknown. In my time figuring out best practices to promote understanding and inclusion in my personal life after I came out as nonbinary, the primary conclusion I came to regarding diversity is that it must be based on normalization. When it’s the norm for every identity to be represented and none to be marginalized, it naturally creates a culture of acceptance and understanding. 

Media and entertainment that can expose people to genuine representation and celebration of both their own identities [to create that emotional resonance] and those of others [to educate them, and create emotional resonance and a feeling of empowerment for people within those identities] is, in my opinion, the biggest driving factor to promoting diversity in our daily lives. The more we can normalize identities that are currently marginalized and underrepresented, the more we can educate and empower people, create those safe havens for underprivileged demographics, and promote inclusion of, and for, everyone in meaningful ways. 

Games, in particular, are a powerful force for this kind of change; it’s one thing to be able to identify with a character you read about in a book or see on a screen, and it’s an entirely different tier to be able to represent the character in an interactive and repeatable manner. I believe games are one of the most effective tools we have in our culture today to spread this understanding, and Triple Rainbow Games is going to lead by example with their entries into the gaming world to forward our goals of diversity and inclusion.

Living in a more accepting world benefits everyone of every demographic. When the minority among people is disrespect of identities instead of the identities themselves, I’ll feel we’ve achieved our goals. Thanks for reading! <3, Jamie

[chriscanwell]

https://youtu.be/Du-N5VkxAa0

If you want to attract girls in a way that most men can't, you first need to understand some disturbing truths about attraction.

Attraction isn't comfortable

You must do what is counter-intuitive

Attraction grows in anxiety and uncertainty

To attract girls, you must make an impact

Nice guys starve, while bold men eat

Women respond to attitude and behavior

In relationships, attraction comes first, then love

During breakups, attraction leaves first, then love

The idea that attraction flourishes in a swamp of anxiety, selfishness, and uncertainty doesn’t sit well with men who prefer to believe that love and attraction exist in perfect harmony.

Love and attraction can exist in harmony, but to have love you must first have attraction. It’s a classic case of the chicken or the egg, which comes first?

If your goal is to attract girls, it’s crucial to separate the sweet, tender nature of love from the harsh reality of attraction.

Love does exist, and it does grow out of attraction, but if you think you must be sweet, caring, and kind to win a woman’s heart, you’re sure to be disappointed.

The Attraction X Factor

One area we’re yet to touch on, however, is how to make yourself irresistible to women—to find the elusive X-factor in attraction.

We know the X-factor exists, but for most men, any attempt to harness the power of attraction and channel its energy remains elusive.

The X-factor continues to remain an abstract concept, in much the same way that nuclear fission remained an abstract concept until the day Trinity—the first atomic bomb—exploded into reality in 1945.

Right now, you hold in your hands all the concepts and theories to attract women. Bringing these theories into reality, however, requires its own kind of nuclear fission.

For this to happen, you must be able to turn theory into reality by smashing abstract concepts together like atoms.

Only then, when you look into the blast crater can you catch a glimpse of the elusive X factor—attitude. Attitude is everything. 

Nice Guys Starve

Men who are smart, handsome, educated, and who understand key concepts of attraction often come to me with the complaint that women still don’t find them attractive.

Women often tell these men how “nice” they are, effectively telling these men that they have no attraction for them whatsoever.

Men who are considered anti-seductive, lack that all-important element of attraction—attitude.

They smile too much; they’re too nice; they’re unsure of themselves; they communicate with weak words like “perhaps,” “maybe,” and “possibly,” words that mirror the uncertainty of their mind.

When women snap at them, act bitchy, and try to push them around, these men tolerate the abuse without putting up the slightest amount of resistance. 

Bringing an edge to your character doesn’t mean being an asshole, it means eradicating your desire to please and be nice.

Attitude Attracts Girls

If a woman calls you a “nice guy,” take it as an insult not a compliment. If a woman has the audacity to call you “nice” you mustn’t respond with “thanks,” instead, you must respond by telling her to “shut the fuck up.”

“What?” She says, shocked by your crude response.

“Just kidding.”

“Uhhh.” She looks around, feeling slightly uncomfortable. 

“Still think I’m nice?” 

She laughs. Maybe not, but you’re certainly a lot more attractive. Yes, attracting girls really is that counter-intuitive.

As we dig deeper into the depths of attraction, it becomes clear that women adore men who score high on dark triad traits.

These dark triad traits include narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy.

Men who score high on dark triad traits are usually more confident and selfish than their less self-assured peers.

They’re also more likely to be self-interested and attempt to manipulate and exploit other people without any sense of guilt or remorse.

Among such men, there’s a dark, apathetic quality that often underpins their relationships with women; a quality that challenges women and keeps them around despite the man’s “asshole” behavior.

Research has found evidence to suggest that men who possess dark triad traits are more likely to date more women, have more sex, and be seen as more attractive.

A study published in the Journal of Evolutionary Psychology suggests that self-absorbed, narcissistic men are more desirable for both one-night stands and short-term relationships.

If research into attracting women is anything to go by, women are more attracted to men who wear flashy, stylish clothes, have humorous verbal expressions, and display open, confident body language—all qualities that narcissists possess in abundance.

It’s for this reason that narcissists strike such a powerful first impression: they are natural born charmers who stand out from the crowd.

Dark Triad Traits are Attractive

https://youtu.be/agA0kcLd1h8

Another trait that makes dark triad men so appealing is their self-absorbed nature. The dark triad man puts himself and his needs first.

Taken to an extreme, men who score high on dark triad traits are often highly destructive, not just to themselves but to the people around them.

And even though it’s estimated that approximately one percent of the world’s population is psychopathic, the majority of psychopaths are fully functional, productive members of society.

Instead of becoming serial killers and mass murderers, as depicted by Hollywood, most “functional psychopaths” live highly productive lives, only resorting to manipulation and deception to get what they want.

The benefits of selfishness and narcissism mustn’t be underestimated. The man who’s selfish and self-centered is much more likely to be successful in life.

He’s more likely to get promoted, get what he wants, and acquire more skills and knowledge along the way.

He’s more likely to start his own business. And he’s more likely to acquire a greater number of assets and resources in the process. This is part of the reason why women find dark triad men so attractive.

 Dark triad men are not only more resourceful and assertive—two important components of attraction—they’re also more likely to be charming and humorous.

Take Risks, Get Rewards

Another aspect that makes dark triad men so alluring is their propensity to take risks and go after what they want without fear of reprisal.

This was corroborated by a study published in the Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin. 

The study found that men who displayed nonconformist traits such as risk-taking and assertiveness were seen as more attractive.

After all, in a world where most people are conformist, the man who’s unafraid to stand out is a unique and valuable commodity able to attract girls with ease.

Women want men who have a sense of purpose and ambition. The last thing a woman wants is a man who’s focused exclusively on her and her erratic emotions.

A woman must feel safe pouring her emotions into you without having to worry that you’ll fold under pressure.

In the same way, you wouldn’t want to keep your money in a bank that isn’t safe and secure, women don’t want to invest their emotions into men who are weak and vulnerable.

This doesn’t mean you should go out of your way to be mean or obnoxious.

Don't Be Aggressive, Be Assertive

Research shows that women aren’t attracted to aggressive men who commit reckless acts of violence, they’re attracted to assertive men who have the courage to go after what they want in life.

A man’s innate aggression is only valued when it comes to protecting his loved ones from outside aggressors.

Are evil, aggressive men attractive? The answer is no.

Research has confirmed that men who were “known to be evil” or “mean,” regardless of appearance, were classified as highly “unattractive” by both men and women. 

As you read this, you might start to feel unsettled, wondering if you really have to be an “asshole” or selfish to attract women.

In the world of seduction, being selfish and self-centered is not as bad as it sounds. It simply means focusing on you as opposed to focusing on her.

What’s more, displaying dark triad traits communicates to women that you have the ability to stand up for yourself and focus on what’s important in life: you, your goals, and your mission.

You must have purpose, you must have goals, and you must have a mission to give your life meaning.

It doesn’t matter whether you want to become a doctor, artist, businessman, entrepreneur, athlete, soldier, or entertainer.

Put Yourself First

If you can harness the dark triad traits that already exist within you, you’ll not only achieve greater focus and clarity, you’re much more likely to be successful as well.

The man who fails with women is the man who seeks out relationships to give his life meaning.

Without clear goals and a sense of purpose, you’ll be left feeling unsatisfied, and no amount of love or tenderness from a woman will make you feel better.

That’s not to say that having a loving relationship with a woman is impossible, far from it.

In fact, I’m here to tell you that you can have love, you can have sex, you can attract girls, you can have trust, and you can have loyalty. But before you have any of these things, you must first build attraction.

After all, the purpose of this book is not to show you how attraction should be, it’s to show you how attraction really is.

And once you appreciate and understand the true nature of attraction, you can have all the love, sex, and intimacy your heart desires.

Once you have the balls to implement these concepts you'll be able to attract girls in no time. Remember, the key to attraction is attitude.

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Across the Face of the Bored

by Dan H

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Dan feels like he's kicking a puppy.~

Ferretbrain regulars should already know about my sordid love affair with Trudi Canavan, an Australian novelist whose work I am guiltily fond of (I'm anxiously looking forward to the paperback release of the Black Magician prequels). Trudi writes wonderful, pacey books about spunky heroines with magic powers which are amazing fun and never get boring (well, Last of the Wilds sagged a bit if I'm honest). It was on her recommendation (well, her blurb, which isn't quite the same thing) that I picked up Russell Kirkpatrick's Across the Face of the World. 

I'll admit, I was also attracted to the sheer old-school nature of it. It's called “Across the Face of the World” for a start, and the cover depicts five people on horses riding in front of a gigantic moon. There are no fewer than five maps at the front, and at the back is a glossary which is only two pages shorter than the first chapter. It's the product of “fifteen years of careful worldbuilding” and when I say “worldbuilding” I mean “this guy is a professor of geography and boy does it show.”

So I kind of knew what I was getting into when I started it. But it came with the Trudi Canavan seal of approval, so I figured it would be slightly cheesy but good fun.

It was not good fun.

Oh, spoilers, FYI.

The story concerns a boy called Leith who lives in a remote village where he isn't terribly popular because he's slightly smaller and weaker than the other children. He has a crush on a girl called Stella (yes, Stella) but she is betrothed to another boy called ... Druin? I think? Not really sure. He is miraculously cast opposite her in the Midwinter play, and gets to do flirty improv theatre with her, before getting dragged away by his mysteriously-returned father, who has brought Terrible Danger with him.

So Leith's father and mother get kidnapped by the Lords of Fear (I kind of feel that I should have bolded that. I mean dudes: Lords of Fear) and Leith, his crippled brother Hal, the village “Haufuth” (think elder or headman) and a Simple Farmer Who Is More Than He Seems named Kurr set off to find them, and to warn the people of Faltha that they are about to be invaded by Bhrudwo.

Finding the names confusing yet? Just wait.

Stella stumbles upon the council of war, and since Leith and Hal are supposed to be dead, and they can't have anybody spreading rumours about their plan, they decide to take her with them (why no, she doesn't get any say in this, why do you ask?) when they head out to do their mission.

They pursue the Bhrudwans across the face of the ... well you get the picture. They do this very, very slowly. Very, very, very slowly.

Kirkpatrick has mapped out his world in exhaustive detail, and he leads you through every inch of it. Down every glaciated valley, past every erratic boulder, up every fold mountain and over every waterfall into every plunge pool. The single biggest impression you get from the text is “gosh, this person knows a lot about geography.” The second biggest impression you get from the text is “gosh, this dialogue is terrible and stilted and these characters are wooden and poorly realised.”

Sorry, that was bitchy of me, and I feel genuinely bad about saying it, because Russell Kirkpatrick comes across as a lovely man who has a genuine enthusiasm for his world and his story. The flyleaf informs us that:

“Russell Kirkpatrick's love of literature and a chance encounter with fantasy novels as a teenager opened up a vast number of possibilities to him. The idea that he could marry storytelling and mapmaking (his other passion) into one project grabbed him and wouldn't let go.”

How sweet is that? Unfortunately while Kirkpatrick's love of mapmaking has translated into an ability to draw pretty good maps, his love of storytelling has failed to yield similar results.

Where to begin.

Destiny Is Not A Virtue God Damn It

Throughout Across the Face of the World there is talk of “The Right Hand of God” (not to be confused with the Left Hand of God, which is Hugh Jackman). This is a dude who is totally destined to rise up and unite the disparate kingdoms of Faltha and fight off the evil Bhrudwans and defeat the Destroyer and generally be Awesomeness Personified.

The Right Hand is pretty clearly Leith. There are gigantic hints about this, almost to the extent of people coming up to him and saying “Leith Mahnumsen, You Are The Right Hand of God”.

It does not, in fact, bother me that nobody works out this extremely obvious fact. It does not bother me that Leith remains totally oblivious to the idea that he might be the Right Hand, despite meeting (a) a seer who says “you have a great destiny and will become a great leader of men” and (b) a bard who says “Hi, I'm looking for the Right Hand, who is destined to be a great leader of men, I think he might come from your home town.”

What bothers me is the fact that I am expected to give a crap.

I really hate destiny in fantasy. It's so often used to avoid explaining how a character was actually capable of achieving something. I don't mind the young orphan boy being able to pull the sword from the stone. I do mind him being able to use the damned thing without any training.

Leith has nothing to recommend him as a character. He's mopey, miserable, self-pitying and indecisive. He doesn't have hidden leadership qualities (or if he does they are fantastically wellhidden) he doesn't even have tremendous compassion (his adoptive brother Hal does, but he's clearly an angel which is kinda cheating) or unusual courage. Hell, he doesn't even get described as possessing any of these quantities. All he does is mope about the fact that Stella seems to fancy somebody else and display a vague determination to get his parents back.

I wouldn't object to this if I thought it was deliberate, if I thought somebody was going to sit Leith down and say “seriously dude, stop being such a douche” and he was going to realise that dag nammit he had a kingdom to save I'd be okay with that, but it seems very unlikely at this stage.

The thing is I do understand why you get so many fantasy heroes like this. He's an everyman or, more precisely an everygeek. He's the speccy outsider who isn't very good at sports and is no good with girls, but who is secretly special because of some innate quality which is never really explained, and which he never has to demonstrate. The recognition and validation of your individual special-unique-snowflake-ness is basically every geeks ultimate fantasy (hell it's why I write these articles, I fully expect to be given a column in the Times any day now) and like Leith we expect this validation to come not as a result of anything we have done but in recognition of who we are. It's the slightly tragic result of being picked on at school.

Where was I? Oh yes: Leith is boring, self-pitying and has the leadership potential of a pillow with an anxiety disorder. He's going to wind up saving the world and I really don't care.

Stella By Starlight

Across the Face of the World almost avoids making it onto the Fantasy Rape Watch list, but not quite. I'm not going to talk about that quite yet, though. Instead I'm going to talk about Stella.

Since pretty much forever, there's been a strong tradition in literature (particularly heroic literature – including fantasy novels and action movies) of female characters whose sole function is to act as a reward for the hero. The fact that I'm not particularly squicked out by the fact that our society sees “getting the girl” as a natural consequence of “killing the baddies” (rather than anything the “girl” has – y'know – a choice about) is one of those things which makes me rather ashamed of my own internalised prejudices. It's a trope that comes up time and again in pretty much every book you've ever read and every film you've ever seen. It should bother me more than it does, frankly, and for some reason it really bothers me here.

Maybe it's because I really didn't like Leith, but the idea that this girl had been created purely so that, at the end of the series, she could complete the protagonist's wish-fulfilment fantasy by winding up with him had me beating my head against the wall. I wouldn't mind but he isn't even particularly nice to her. He shows no actual interest in her as a person, they don't have a relationship, he sees her as a trophy just as much as Druin, the boy she's betrothed to and terrified of.

Oh yes, about that.

Stella starts the story being abducted by the company because they want to keep her quiet. This is, itself, all kinds of fucked up. I mean, I get that it's better that nobody in the village know where you're going (they say it's for the safety of the village, but seriously, when has ignorance protected anybody from anything – if Dark Lord Psychopathus thinks you know something, he'll torture you to death, period) but seriously, you guys were the ones who had a secret meeting in a public building with no locks on the doors. The fact that they won't trust her not to tell anybody (because her mother's a gossip, apparently) is also a bit iffy, it's got slight overtones of “women need to learn to keep their mouths shut” - sorry, I'm Minority Warrioring again – so, yes, abduction.

Stella does not get a choice about joining the company on their quest, but she goes along with it in the end because the alternative is to marry Druin, and be subjected to a lifetime of socially sanctioned marital rape. Being the courageous, self-actualising fantasy heroine that she is, Stella sees her abduction by the company as an opportunity to throw herself at somebody else, so she can be subjected to a lifetime of socially sanctioned marital rape by somebody less horrible.

It doesn't occur to her that she could – y'know – make a life for herself in the enormous cosmopolitan city they're going to. I know she's a girl from a small village and was probably raised with a very narrow view of her future, but I think once you've broadened your prospects to include “saving the world” I really don't think “living without a man” is too much of a stretch.

Ethnic Jokes Are So Uncouth

So the basic plot of AtFotW is that the proud lands of Faltha are home to the First Men, the chosen of God who screwed up n-thousand years ago but who are destined to reclaim their rightful place as the Chosen of the Most High and redeem the world and stuff.

Anybody want to guess what their defining racial characteristics are? I'll give you a clue, it isn't dark hair and brown eyes.

The enemy of the First Men is the evil empire of Bhrudwo. Now I'll admit here that I've not seen much actual description of Bhrudwan ethnic characteristics but they do seem to live in a desert, is all I'm saying.

Now I know making allegations of racism about a fantasy novel is, as a great man once put it, about as difficult as putting on a hat. But when your novel has as its premise that some races of people are better than other races of people, you need to be really careful before making your chosen people look quite that much like Nazi poster children.

This again probably wouldn't bother me as much as it does, but Kirkpatrick seems to have actually noticed the problem and sort-of-not-quite tried to address it. There's quite a lot of evil races in his world (the Bhrudwans, the Widuz), but Kirkpatrick keeps making embarrassingly perfunctory efforts to pretend that they are not, in fact, totally evil. Mahnum (the protagonist's father) explains at great and patronising length how the common people of Bhrudwo are really excellent people no different from you or me, before explaining how he was captured by them, tortured by them, then rescued by one of them who, when said rescuer discovered that he was not as rich as he had pretended, betrayed him to the Lords of Fear. Similarly, when the Companions encounter the Widuz, we are told carefully that they have been cruelly treated by the other people of their land, and driven ever further into the most inhospitable parts of Faltha, only to be subjected to a sequence in which the Widuz line up dozens of naked, drugged captives and throw them into a dormant volcano to appease a hungry god. And lest we forget, there is only one God that canonically exists in the setting, so while they're ill-treated they're also violent, barbaric and wrong.

Now I admit, I've only read the first book, and it's possible that it will defy all my expectations and preconceptions. It's possible that Leith will grow the hell up and show some kind of leadership qualities. It's possible that Stella will learn that she doesn't actually need to get married, and will reject Leith on the grounds that she doesn't fancy him. But I'm unlikely to find out because I'm unlikely to want to wade through another twelve hundred pages of tedious geography for the privilege.

And finally:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Approximate Number of Named Characters Who Travel with the Company: 12

Of Which Female: 3

Of Whom Have Dialogue: 2

Of Whom Motivated by Past Sexual Abuse: 1

Of Whom Motivated by Fear of Future Sexual Abuse: 1

Of Whom Die: 1

Total Deaths Among Company: 2

Number of Women Abducted by Villains: 1

Number of Women Abducted by Heroes: 1

Number of Societies Encountered in Which Women Are Treated Literally As Property: 1

Number of Male Characters Who Object To This: 0

Number of Female Characters Who Object To This: 0

Reaction of Party Member On Being Told That His Wife Is Now The Property Of Another Man: “Oh good, he'll look after her until I get back”Themes:

Fantasy Rape Watch

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Books

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Sci-fi / Fantasy

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Judging Books By Their Covers

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http://serenoli.livejournal.com/

at 12:00 on 2009-04-15Lol the last line. Like, seriously?

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Rami

at 13:52 on 2009-04-15I was mostly struck by the resemblance of the cover to

a Wheel Of Time book

, when I first saw it...

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Arthur B

at 13:57 on 2009-04-15Hey, I remember that cover - it was on the only

Wheel of Time

book I ever attempted to read.

I got halfway through the prologue before I gave up.

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Rami

at 14:26 on 2009-04-15Don't worry, you won't have to miss out entirely -- it's allegedly coming to the big screen in 2011!

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Wardog

at 16:00 on 2009-04-15They're making a movie from The Wheel of Time? Wtf?! It isn't even finished... and it's really boring...

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Arthur B

at 16:07 on 2009-04-15The long and boring nature of the Wheel of Time is actually helpful there: if they film everything then they'll still be on schedule even if the final book isn't published until 2050...

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Rami

at 16:14 on 2009-04-15You never know, they could do something miraculous and tighten it up a lot (like the LOTR films, for instance, were tightened up) into a reasonable story...

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Shim

at 16:19 on 2009-04-15I can see that. I mean, if you cut out most of the characters and all the sitting around angsting, it would be manageable.

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Guy

at 16:22 on 2009-04-15I understand that, since Jordan is now writing generic fantasy for the angels, they have found someone else to finish the Wheel for him. Who was intending to write one book, but, haha, said that there was far too much stuff to wrap up in just one book so he is going to write a concluding *trilogy*.

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Dan H

at 20:16 on 2009-04-15

Lol the last line. Like, seriously?

Seriously, but deliberately taken out of context for maximum d'oh value. Said character is, in fact, a member of the treats-women-as-property community (albeit an adopted one) so it's not like his wife was just snatched away from him by people they met on the road, and he does know the guy she's given to personally so it's not completely psychotic. So the line is more "I know X will take good care of her". It's still kind of messed up though.

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Dan H

at 20:38 on 2009-04-15

there was far too much stuff to wrap up in just one book so he is going to write a concluding *trilogy*

You know what's going to happen, don't you?

He's going to write books one and two, and then die horrifically, at which point somebody else will get brought in to finish the trilogy, and decide that actually they'll need to divide the final volume into two parts, finish the first part and then they'll die as well at which point somebody else...

It'll become this terrifying horror story about the fantasy series that kills anybody who touches it.

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Guy

at 03:56 on 2009-04-16I thought you were going to say, he's going to write books one and two, then realise that one book just really isn't *quite* enough to wrap up everything that needs to be wrapped up, so he'll extend the series by just a few more books... &c... but I like your version too. :)

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http://pozorvlak.livejournal.com/

at 11:51 on 2009-04-16I just wanted to say that Leith is the name of where I live. I don't know if that's a coincidence or further evidence of Kirkpatrick's deep love of geography, but it made the review rather confusing for me to read.

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http://sistermagpie.livejournal.com/

at 21:02 on 2009-04-21Awww. It really is kind of a textbook fantasy book. I find myself liking the author even while cringing at the thought of reading the book.

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Rami

at 10:54 on 2009-04-22

liking the author even while cringing

Yeah, me too. If he spends that long lovingly building a fantasy world I get the feeling it'd be really fun to be sitting there exploring it with him, just riffing on ideas like what the people in the desert kingdom to the south wear.

On the other hand, that has very little to do with actually writing a good book :-(

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Dan H

at 13:31 on 2009-04-22There's a rather cute bit on his website where he says that writing his books takes roughly 500 hours to write, with a further *thousand* hours of worldbuilding...

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Wardog

at 14:38 on 2009-04-22Sigh. I'm pretty damn sure it should be the other way round ...

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http://scipiosmith.livejournal.com/

at 18:23 on 2012-04-03

Now I admit, I've only read the first book, and it's possible that it will defy all my expectations and preconceptions. It's possible that Leith will grow the hell up and show some kind of leadership qualities. It's possible that Stella will learn that she doesn't actually need to get married, and will reject Leith on the grounds that she doesn't fancy him. But I'm unlikely to find out because I'm unlikely to want to wade through another twelve hundred pages of tedious geography for the privilege.

Kind of, as far as Leith goes. Instead of displaying any fantastic qualities book 3 becomes a rather hilarious deconstruction/parody of the idea of the Chosen One, as he leads his followers from one epic fail to the next before God and Hal save the day at the last possible second.

Stella on the other hand is treated rather savagely; by the end of the trilogy she's been seduced by the Dark Lord's trusted lieutenant (whom she does, in fairness, cause to be killed by the Dark Lord), then prematurely aged and palsied down one side by the Dark Lord during his enslavement of her, develops kind-of Stockholm syndrome before being rescued by God, and still marries Leith at the end.

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Dan H

at 18:11 on 2012-04-04

Instead of displaying any fantastic qualities book 3 becomes a rather hilarious deconstruction/parody of the idea of the Chosen One, as he leads his followers from one epic fail to the next before God and Hal save the day at the last possible second.

Obviously I've not read the book, but based on this very loose description, I'm not sure that constitutes a parody or deconstruction, so much as a fairly straight implementation of the trope. Sometimes it's authorial fiat, rather than a literal divine intervention, but the way the Chosen One narrative usually works (in my experience) is that they fuck up continuously for most of the story, then have everything come out alright at the last possible minute.

c.f. John Sheridan, Harry Potter, later Buffy, and so on.

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James D

at 20:10 on 2012-04-04Yes, a better deconstruction of the trope would have the "Chosen One" be actually worthy of the title, but simply lose because the enemy is better at fighting and it was stupid to expect to win or even try to fight. The bad guys end up being magnanimous in defeat and things go back to the way they were, which wasn't so bad anyway, minus a bunch of warmongering rebels. The End. Maybe throw in a dash of how the former Confederate US is with its "The South Will Rise Agin!" mantra, playing up big gubmint being evil, states' rights being good, and conveniently lionizing the rebels while whitewashing the whole slavery issue. I guess the protagonist could be some sort of impressionable youth who buys the whole story.

There are probably already a hundred authors who've deconstructed the trope at length, to the point where its deconstruction is itself a trope. Such is modern fantasy. To be perfectly honest though, it just doesn't seem like a particularly interesting trope to deconstruct, because once examined at all it becomes so transparently stupid that hardly any deconstruction is required to lay that inherent stupidity bare. As mentioned in the review, the concept of a "Chosen One" is just more bald-faced adolescent wish-fulfillment fantasy.

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http://scipiosmith.livejournal.com/

at 17:45 on 2012-04-05

Obviously I've not read the book, but based on this very loose description, I'm not sure that constitutes a parody or deconstruction, so much as a fairly straight implementation of the trope. Sometimes it's authorial fiat, rather than a literal divine intervention, but the way the Chosen One narrative usually works (in my experience) is that they fuck up continuously for most of the story, then have everything come out alright at the last possible minute.

I think the difference is one of textual support. You can read the later Harry Potter books as the story of someone bumbling from one disaster to another, but that is not supported by the text which insists that Harry is a Hero with capital H to the point that even after his apparent defeat and death people remain loyal to his memory.

On the other hand, when Leith is loudly called out for every mistake he makes, called out for sulking about getting called out, and by the end of the war is getting pissed on by the common soldiery for his suckage (even Charlie Brown thinks he's a loser by this point) it's hard to argue that 'Leith is Useless' is not what the text expects you to take away.

It's also possible to interpret that Hal, who bears his brother's accusations of treason without complaint, dies in Leith's place and then comes back to life temporarily in time to save the day, was the real Right Hand of God all along, but then Leith was the one hearing God's voice in book 2 so that would be strange.

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Tamara

at 23:08 on 2014-01-28How geekily-particular is it that what bothers me about this review is the implication that geographers make for tedious worldbuilding? I'm not-so-many credits away from a geography degree and love it to pieces, and it's totally obvious to me that the use of a solid foundation in geography in fantasy worldbuilding should be one of experimentation and exploration of spaces and landscapes that can't exist in reality, not the fussy construction of super-accurate worlds. The City and The City or The Half Made World is my idea of a great geography porn genre book, not something with really nicely mapped drainage basins. Just needed to say that, oh very old article about a series long since off the radar.

[professorflowriter]

Merories of Deception Ch2, Part 2 (adult+ trigger warnings)

**flashback**

A slap across the face roused her from her stupor, and when her head cleared she looked up into the sneering face of Lucius Malfoy.

“I see I have the … pleasure… of welcoming dirty mudbloods into my home once again,” he leered. “I hope you enjoy the evening’s entertainment. I know I will. This evening more than usual.” He cast his eyes down her body as she shivered under his gaze. With a flick of a plain black wand the tattered remains of her clothes disappeared, and she tried to pull her arms and legs in to cover herself, but they were bound tight by metal shackles. Malfoy reached out his hand to grope her, squeezing hard enough to bruise before smirking at her horror and discomfort at the feel of his hands. He stepped away.

“I imagine you are extremely eager to join us all upstairs, where of course you will have the honour of being allowed into the presence of the Dark Lord himself. I’m sure he will enjoy your company this evening.”

Hermione barely had time to make a sound of dismay at his words, before, with another wave of his wand, the shackles on her wrists and ankles opened, and she fell forwards, her legs weak from the unnatural position she had been left in for so long. She fell hard, hitting the floor with her knees and elbows as Lucius deftly stepped out of the way. Touching the wounds on her wrists numbly, she heard Lucius speak again.

“Bring her upstairs, Wormtail. And no touching, you filthy rat. Not until the Dark Lord has finished with her at least.”

With a start he noticed the other…man… in the room, cowering rodent-like in the shadows behind Lucius. The blonde-haired man glanced down at her exposed body on the floor, before turning and stalking away, exiting the room though a narrow door on the opposite side.

Wormtail lunged at her, sinking his long nails into the flesh of her upper arm as he dragged her to her feet. She tried to pull out of his grip, disgusted by the cold clammy feeling of his hand on her skin, but his wand was immediately at her throat. “Just give me a reason, go on. I’d love to get my hands on more than the other’s leftovers for once.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he looked down at her with twisted desire. “No? Best not keep them waiting then.”

He pushed her roughly through the door, his hand still wrapped firmly round her arm, and up a steep flight of steps into a dim corridor barely less dark and dank than the cellar she had just left. Panic was starting to rise in her throat, and her stomach was heaving. This is it, she thought. What are the chances of me leaving this place in one piece? She kept her thoughts carefully away from what she suspected might happen to her before the night was through, or she would have thrown up there and then, despite her best efforts to keep her terror under control.

Wormtail dragged her towards the door at the end of the corridor, while she tried her hardest to talk herself into a measure of authority over her gibbering emotions. Stand up straight, courage. You’re a Gryffindor. You’ve been in bad situations before and always got out. Don’t shame yourself and give them what they want to see, they will humiliate you enough without you adding to it. Damn, what I would give for my wand. She took a last hurried breath and pushed her feelings into the tightest ball she could as they stepped through the doorway.

She stepped out into a large room, elegantly furnished, though, like darkly lit and dreary. What is it with these people? Just because they’re bad doesn’t mean they all have to like their houses cold, dark and furnished in grey and black. The thought made her lips quirk slightly before her attention was captured by the number of people standing in small groups scattered around the room. Slowly, as more of them spotted her and her escort, the quiet murmuring around the room faded into silence.

Wormtail released his grip and motioned with his wand across the room. She decided to take the initiative and stepped in front of him, walking slowly, with her head held up across the room, to where she could see the back of Lucius Malfoy, standing next to another figure in dark robes. She was someone who thrived on control. The situation was out of her hands, but at least she had some authority over how she would meet the terror awaiting her. As she passed the other groups of Death-Eaters the few women flicked their robes away from her in disgust, while the men leered at the side of her dirty body on display.

Nearing her destination, she realised with a start that there was another figure, hidden behind Lucius and the other man. Voldemort. Her stomach clenched again, and she almost swayed on her feet. The blonde Death-Eater finally noticed her arrival and turned to meet her with a twist of his lips, but she only had eyes for the snake behind him.

“Aahhhh, Potter’s mudblood friend, come to join the fun.” The Death-Eaters standing close enough to hear chortled softly. “Ooh, but what a brave little Griffindor, looking her betters in the eyes. Shall we teach her the proper way to greet her Lord?” Without waiting for an answer he waved his wand and hissed. At once, Hermione’s felt invisible ropes wrap around her limbs and body. She was dragged down to her knees, her torso pulled backwards and her head back as far as it could go, while her arms were pulled out to the sides so hard she felt her muscles creak.

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and Hermione’s eyes filled with tears at the searing pain in her muscles. “Now that you have been show the correct way to present yourself, we can decide what to do with you. After we determine the whereabouts of Harry Potter, of course.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit! panicked Hermione. What if he looks in your mind. You have no chance of keeping him out. Voldemort loomed over her, and with bone-deep terror she realised that he was about to do exactly that. A narrowing of his snake-like eyes was all the warning she got before her head exploded with pain.

Flashes of times she had spent with Harry raced by: the boys and her, laughing over some lame joke of Ron’s in the common room; Harry and Ron stuffing themselves at a feast, while she surreptitiously tried to read a book while joining in the conversation just enough for them not to notice and tease her; relaxing together and discussing classes for the next year in her bedroom in Grimauld Place.

Not what he wanted. The images flickered faster: Snape smacking Harry over the head with a thick book in a potions class; Harry with his face scrunched up in pain as he told them he was leaving to rescue Sirius at the Ministry; his face covered with tears as he described Snape killing Dumblebore.

She heard a snarl from Voldemort as he pressed himself in further, still unable to find what he was looking for. Memories flashed through her consciousness so fast she could barely see them, as he invaded every corner of her mind. She became aware of both sounds at the same time; a loud screaming sound almost drowning out a growing shout of frustration. Harry, Harry, HARRY, HAARRRRYY! At the same moment she realised the scream was coming from her own lips, she hit an invisible wall in her mind. Both herself and Voldemort slammed into it with numbing force, and her mind folded in on itself and everything faded to white.

She came to a while later. As she floated back up to consciousness she tried her best to stay still and not to groan at the pain lacing through her head. As soon as the world had stopped spinning she cracked her eyes open to try and determine where she was.

She seemed to be lying curled up on a table, in an unfamiliar room. There was whispering coming from the far end of the rooms, above her head. Voldemort, she realised. She would never be able to forget that snake-like hiss. Whatever was being discussed, he did not sound happy. Hermione suddenly jerked at a familiar name… "Severusss…” With dismay she recalled the dark man who had been standing next to Lucius Malfoy. She hadn’t glanced at him, her eyes had been fixed on Voldemort, but she knew now that it was him. Despite her hatred of him, she shook with the shame at the thought of being seen, trussed up and naked, by the man who had ridiculed her talent and sneered at her capabilities continually for the past six years.

His smooth tone pierced the quiet of the room, and she strained to hear him.

“My Lord, her mind has obviously been tampered with recently, I assume to hide whatever information she possesses that may help us to find and destroy Potter. If my Lord agrees, I would suggest that…” his voice lowered and Hermione could no longer make his words out.

“Yessss, Serverusss, your plan pleases me. I will allow you to take her. I will inform you to bring when to bring her back here, and you will keep me informed of your progress. Make sure you teach her how to behave, and see to it that she is punished for any misdeeds appropriately. If you do not deal with her properly I will have to turn her over to Lucius. His appetites are insatiable and he has been begging me to break the mudblood bitch in.”

“I assure you, my Lord, I will make sure she does not enjoy her time with me. That insufferable know-it-all brat has plagued my life for six long years and I look forward to spending some more time with her now that I am allowed to instruct her…properly.”

There was a rustle of robes as the two wizards drew closer to her. Hermione tensed, waiting for something to happen.

“Ahh,” Voldemort whispered, “I see our little mudblood is awake and listening avidly to our conversation. It looks like she is in need of her next lesson. ‘Crucio’!”

**End Flashback**