#its classes i like even but how am i supposed to have my personal life together and have hobbies and also have homework

[moreclaypigeons]

"they should not make me do school" says the guy who is actively enrolling in college classes,

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He  complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle.  Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be."  He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

[grapejuicestyless]

Happier

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is not happy, despite the smile etched into her face, and nobody can see that, nobody but Harry, who can’t seem to express his concern in a gentle way.

“You look happier.”

What am I supposed to say to that? Thank you? I don’t mean to be mean when nobody meant any harm, but it feels so casually cruel for someone to pick up on the way I’ve changed and mistake my spiraling for happiness.

I don’t know the true shape of my face. My cheeks were round most of my life, meant to be kneaded between the fingers of my working class grandmother while she baked in the kitchen, but more recently the skin has fallen from the bone and what was once rolled between wrinkled fingers is tighter to my face as it strangles me from the inside out.

I don’t recognize myself either. Maybe I never did, because even when I search for the girl I once was, I can never seem to find her. I remember running around as a child with my best friend, the grass stains on my jeans and the holes in my sweater from tug of war’s in his backyard. She was happy, even if she looked tired. She was the happiest I’d ever been, but she was so young. She hadn’t found herself yet and maybe that’s what made life so good, the ignorance of the real world and how it would shape her.

Maybe the real me is the person who reaches out to her friends when she misses them, or maybe its the girl who counted down the days to her seventeenth birthday so she could finally relate to the lyrics of Dancing Queen and mean it finally. But maybe it’s the girl who sits in bed staring at the ceiling wondering why she never made it where everyone else was going. Maybe it’s the girl who wished her mother cared just a little bit more to stop comparing her to her “smarter” friends when she was twelve.

So maybe I do look happy, maybe I am happy. Maybe I have never felt happy before and maybe that’s why I feel so conflicted about if I truly am or if I am just projecting it out to seem that way.

“Harry.”

I call into the darkness, wandering the house party in a sweaty costume sticky with splashes of beer on the fabric, only half of the costume I came with.

The hallway is long and winding, but it always feels that way when I’m not exactly sure if I’m going in the right direction.

“Harry?” I call out again, spotting the other half of my costume.

“Y/n.” He smiles with a sigh, like even though the smoke between his fingers is taking off the edge, I’ve just calmed the entire air surrounding him. For me, it’s the same feeling. When he’s near, everything seems to slow down for a moment. After about the thousandth comment on how much better I looked from some friends of friends, he disappeared, and maybe that’s why their integrating looks bother me so much, because theres no hand to hold onto to distract me from myself.

I slide against the wall to sit with him, my eyes finding purchase on the same cracks across the thin hallway as he did, and the warm blunt being lazily passed from his fingers to mine.

“I think you’re rubbing all your glitter onto my pants.” he breathes out casually into the comfortable silence. I feel the tension in my shoulders expand before fading.

“I think it’s in my eyes too.”

“Just when I thought they couldn’t shine any brighter.” Harry lifts his hand to hook his index finger around my chin, smiling like an idiot when he sees my lips curl comfortably around the joint.

“Well, maybe I feel better than usual. It’s finally reflecting back to you.”

I joke, feeling sick as I recall the conversation from before. I look happier, as if to suggest that before I was miserable, and even if they weren’t wrong about that, the fact that anyone could read that without a second glance scared me. How a stranger could read me before I could.

“Well, you look like shit if you do.”

“Ouch, that obvious?”

“If I counted each time you rolled your eyes when someone told you that whole speech about how good you look, I’d run out of fingers.”

Harry laughs as he takes back the weed to finish it off. I’ve already drank more than him, so the sway in my body becomes more noticeable as the burn sears down my throat.

“It’s just so…wrong. I mean, I guess I feel okay, but do I really look good enough for all this praise?” I ask quietly into the night, my knees pressing against my chest as I hug my calves tightly between my sweaty palms.

“I think you’re very pretty, Y/n. You are pretty. But your face is changing and no amount of glitter can cover that up.” He tells me honestly, rubbing out the dying end onto his knee and sighing at the burn.

“If you still believe that then I haven’t used enough glitter.” I try to joke, to brush away the rising bile in my throat and tension in the air.

“You can fool anyone else, but I know you. Even if you’re not who you once were, I still know you because I love you.”

“Well you shouldn’t. I’m a leech. I’ll fucking suck up all the joy from your life until you’re too exhausted to leave.” I smiled at the ground drunkenly, head hung low and my eyes heavy.

“But I do. You’re my best friend and it’s pathetic how you let yourself fall so low.” Harry flicks out the end of the blunt, watching the ashes fall the floor and stain the carpet lining the thin hallway.

“I came to you for comfort, you know. Not to get drilled in a bunny costume.” I roll my eyes, the haze clearing at his bitter remarks.

“Well tough luck, I guess. You look like shit for a girl who everyone here thinks is so happy.” Harry looks at me, his hand moving to wipe away the glitter by my eye.

“I need air.” I stand up, almost stumbling against the faint curling of the carpet at the edges. It’s new and that’s how you can tell, it hasn’t fully sunken into the floor, and it’s such a shame that it’s forever stuck with the glitter from my costume and the ashes of Harry’s joint.

“You need help.”

I stop, and there’s a beat that passes.

“You’re a real asshole when you’re high, you know. I have my own shit, I don’t need to be taking yours too.” I smile at him, but only because he was smiling at me.

“Maybe I am.” He responds plainly, and when he looks the other way, I feel heavier than before, more picked apart than before, more vulnerable than before.

Theres a thousand eyes on my back just waiting for me to crack, like the chip in my tooth from how hard I’m smiling while talking to strangers about my hopeless life. And they all say I look happier.

“But y/n,” Harry calls out for me, and for a moment I believe he might apologize.

“You look happy.”

[parlerenfleurs]

In the notes of the previous post I've reblogged I saw a discussion about why Ringo isn't considered (by the fandom) as a romantic interest for Mizu despite treating her better than all the other men in her life, and how this is tied to fatphobia. Also the fact that the fat character is often the comic-relief and the fact that if he is indeed intended as platonic why make him the only fat (="unattractive") man among the three (others being Taigen and Mikio) that can or have been considered love interests for her?

And that's really interesting because indeed, I never considered Ringo a potential love-interest for Mizu... And so I have to wonder if it's because he's fat. But I also never saw him as a comic-relief character, and I want to expand on why first.

He is indeed funny, and brings levity. But it's not "comic-relief", it's "positivity-relief", in my eyes. I don't feel like we're supposed to take him unseriously at all. Characters take him unseriously, sure, because of his social class, his disability, his seemingly naïve and weak character (never his size, in any case).

But the story shows, and Mizu comes to know, that he's anything but weak and naïve. We know right from the start that he's endured a terrible childhood and life up until meeting Mizu. He doesn't have hands, his father is abusive both physically and psychologically. The way the flesh-trader mistreats him in the first episode isn't anything unusual to Ringo. Everyone despises him and feels free to exert force against him. Taigen in his arrogance, deigns offer him a menial job in his household with the condescension reserved for a nobody who is also a child, or mentally a child.

Ringo was forged at this cruel relentless fire and what came out is a formidable strength. It doesn't manifest itself as obviously as Mizu's but it's, in my opinion, superior, and also extremely great and loveable. Ringo is neither naïve nor stupid. He knows when he's being beaten and condescended to. He's like that because, in spite of everything, he wants to see beauty in everything, and enjoy the good things in life, and he chooses to be kind. He CHOOSES to be kind. With an unbreakable, fluid, infinitely bending strength.

I am not well-versed enough in Japanese culture to make a meaningful comment about this, probably, but my personal reading of Ringo is that he might be a Buddha figure. East of India, the Buddha is fat. The Buddha smiles serenely, even in adversity, because he's reached a state of zen. His ego isn't touched by insults and beatings. Of course Ringo prefers to be treated well, like anyone else! That's why he follows Mizu around! She's an outcast and "deformed" like him, but she's also able to hold her own against physical violence, against the tyrants of the world, and that obviously appeals to him.

He kills, he has sex, he likes good food, he's obviously not detached from the world at all. But still, like a Buddha, his sense of self cannot be shaken by outside mockery or hostility. He's incredibly persistent once he has a goal, but he doesn't bother affirming himself to others for the sake of ego. He's the polar opposite of Taigen in that respect. Taigen's background has made him desperate for outside sources of strength - admiration, prestige, money, social standing...

On the other hand Ringo is really similar to Mizu, a thing he sees immediately but she does not. Hers is an inner unbreakable strength, too. The same fluid, adaptable, water-like strength. Can't break water. It will shape itself around you and your obstacles without ever losing its nature.

But contrary to Ringo, Mizu feels all the pain, the slights, the shame, the self-hatred. Ringo is pure love, or water, not poisoned by betrayal. Perhaps, or even probably, he has been betrayed but he hasn't let it poison his love, his water nature.

Even when Mizu betrays his love (respect, admiration, regard), he's no pushover, he lets her know that he won't stand for it, but still he rescues her because... despite everything his love is still pure. His love is the agape kind. He loves life, he obviously loves himself. There is no shame or shrinking of the self in him. No shame of his body, among other things. He's the only one in the main cast who doesn't wear a mask. What you see is what you get, and it's only people's own preconceptions that blind them to his depth and merit.

On the subject of fatness, I'm not sure he's even really... considered fat, in-universe? Or not negatively so, in any case. When Akemi has to serve her first client, HE is called fat by the characters. Fat enough to crush someone, and to hinder his own libido - the fatness of being extremely rich and eating too much rich food while being extremely idle. This one has the prostitutes reluctant, and his fatness is viewed in a negative light. Ringo has a very pleasant and cordial interaction with the two prostitutes who service him, and sure we're not privy to their thoughts on the matter, but I bet they found him cute, polite, not troublesome at all to service, and I feel like his size wasn't even a question that was posed. We see him naked, running around, carrying things, and being extremely active. His is a common build, sturdy, not a hindrance to his libido, his health, his self-image, or anything. What I mean is, he's not presented to us in a negative way on account of his fatness, and isn't viewed negatively for it in-universe.

All of this to say, I might indeed be blind to his potential as a love interest to Mizu, but I'm not sure it just has to do with the fact he's fat? It might be! I don't know. The first thing I think about on why I don't ship them is they show no romantic or sexual interest in each other that I see. Except, perhaps, that it might be significant that she's the one to arrange his first sexual experience and that it's the framework he has when seeing her naked. But as his attitude remains strictly the same and he shows no change in the kind of interest he has for her, it didn't feel significant to me. I might be wrong, I don't know. But again, Taigen is the opposite: he might be bi, but let's say he isn't, or at least isn't aware of it (I would be sad if he's not but it would better serve the parallel if he's straight) - the guy shows unmistakable chemistry with, and attraction to Mizu without even knowing she's got peaches underneath it all. (I love that he feels attraction to her at the precise moment where she's her playful self again: wrestling, battling and winning, while laughing and having fun... everything that Mikio couldn't handle is the very thing Taigen feels attracted to, aaah so good.)

When I think about it, the loyal, protective role Ringo has, where he saves her physically and emotionally, cares for her, protects her secret, admires her for who she is as a whole, his place as the person who sees the most of her without rejecting a single part of it, should indeed make me feral....

But if he's the opposite to Taigen in so many ways, he might be in this too, in that he has no attraction to Mizu, and they've no such chemistry between them. It's also so lovely as a platonic relationship! For once it is! He's her apprentice, after all, and she takes on the Swordfather role for him as Swordfather did for her (she even used the same persistent-as-hell-I-will-stay-look-I'm-useful method as Ringo did on her - when I say they're so similar...). She used to make noise to signal things to Swordfather and she makes Ringo make noise so that she can keep track of him, too. It's very cute! He uses her kitchen knives and she makes him start to fight with that just like she started to forge by forging them. To me, they're firmly in this master-apprentice dynamic. And friends.

I've said repeatedly that he's not naïve but actually in some ways he is, and that's what Mizu needs more of. She needs to reconnect with that younger, less hurt version of herself. And Ringo helps her with it, because she does ask for his help, does recognise she needs it (healing!) when she asks him to write on her back. He literally has her back. He's his own character, his own person, but they mirror each other a lot, and in some ways he's her master too. A master in gentleness.

Oh. I've said that Ringo's love/water is pure, but that it HAS been touched by the poison that affects Mizu: he's a better sword, has a better strength because he let the impurity be a part of him, didn't push it away or let it consume and change him. No wonder she must learn from him/needs his help to forge her new sword.

IF the story started signaling attraction between them, I don't think it would occur to me that Ringo is fat or anything (or it wouldn't have before, now I'll pay attention to that). It didn't occur to me when he was with the prostitutes, I was only thinking about the fact he has no hands, but the prostitutes shrugged it off with grace, and it made me happy.

[sanzaibian]

Life is really unjust.

My name is Killian Ndiaye, and I’m intimately acquainted with its bad side. My father died while I was young, leaving me to be raised along with my younger sisters by only my ma. We weren’t rich by any means, so it meant that my ma made ridiculous hours at her job, and that us, when old enough, had to pitch in with part-time jobs.

Thankfully, I was quite an intelligent kid, and still managed to have quite good grades. However, that didn’t mean that school life was easier, as I was always labeled as the “poor nerd” in class, wearing the few simple clothes I owned and sporting the buzzcut my ma cut for me. As she always said, others just cared more about looks than about life.

However, this was not the last of my struggles, quite the countrary as it turned out that I wasn’t the cis straight man I was supposed to become. High school was formative in that sense, as it’s in there that I noticed that I wasn’t into girls like the other guys my age were, and like ma expected me to be.

I… had a very hard time admitting that I was gay. Ma always told me that those “queers” didn’t know what life was like, and that they were just living carelessly, wasting their parent’s efforts… I didn’t want to wast my ma’s efforts, as I love her, yet I couldn’t hide from the truth. I’m gay, and that’s just it.

I vainly thought that I just needed not to be like “those gays”, those who live in the hairdresser’s, the clothing store and the clubs, looking all like fairies, and that everything was going to be alright. How shameful it was when, at 17, I started questioning my gender, so disconnected I feel to masculinity and other men’s experiences, and so uncomfortable I am with the facial hair that just won’t stop growing…

I thought that if I just suppressed it, if I was just the most “normal” I could be, then everything was going to be alright. That perhaps, I just needed to alleviate a bit my dysphoria, and everything was going to be alright.

However, my ma is a very observant person. As I was approaching majority, she started to make comments about a girlfriend, and about me stubbornly shaving my face. I just dismissed those questions, still foolishly hoping that everything would end well.

When I was 18, she asked me whether I was gay. I couldn’t lie to my ma.

And we arrive to now, a few years later. My ma “didn’t want a fairy in her house”, so I stayed with a few friends. But when they went to college and I couldn’t, I was left to fend for myself alone. Now, I live in the streets, and spend my time alternating between finding part-time work and begging in the city. I do it whenever I need to go somewhere, and though I don’t do anything illegal – I even spend some of my meager funds on a transports card – it absolutely does not mean that I’m suddenly well-liked.

Few are those who spare any money. And on top of that, because I’m a black man, I hear plenty of racist comments. As if they thought I didn’t hear them asking me to “return to my country”, even though I’m already there…

And the most depressing fact of this all is, because I can’t really shave anymore, my dysphoria is going through the roof. My life is hell, but I keep at it in the vain hope that I’ll be able to climb back to a respectable life.

However, today was especially terrible. I had found an interesting job of installing the equipment for a big concert, and actually ventured quite far from the center of the city to go to the big theater. When I arrived there, they told me that they weren’t looking for anyone, they had all the help they needed. Dejected, I left, but as I was leaving, another young guy entered. I hang out a bit to hear what was going on, and I heard that he was hired for the temporary job. I guess they thought I would steal from them or something…

It’s so unfair ! I love music, and at school always wanted to do something that had a link to it ! I was so hyped to work in this job ! I thought that if I worked hard enough, people would even notice me and my good knowledge of the equipment, and would consider me as a good partner for further work ! But, as ever, all those dreams were, once again, cut short…

On the way back, I started begging, but as I reached the back of the first bus, I saw what looked like a man in a dress, wearing makeup and nail polish, being harassed by an older-looking woman.

“(…) and any sensible person ! How do you expect me to do nothing while a pervert is preparing to go to women’s bathrooms and assault girls ? You should be ashamed of endangering others !

- Miss... please stop… I swear I won’t do anything bad…” The person in a dress said, clearly on the brink of tears.

- And how can I trust you ? I know you snakes, you’re just saying this to then go and continue your business unharmed !”

As she was about to continue harassing that person, I decided I needed to step in. I want there to be justice at least somewhere, even if it can’t be in my life. I step between her and the person in a dress, and ask calmly :

“Miss, please stop. They are clearly really hurt by your comments, and everybody around us is uncomfortable with this display.” I say, as I watch everyone else looking away, as if nothing’s happening. Courage shines ever so hard…

- Oh, now a beggar is coming ? You should go back to your country or find a goddamn job rather than profiting off of our hard work !” She said, clutching her designer bag, as if I was going to steal it.

- Miss, these comments are really racist. Please stop.” I stay, choosing to remain calm and composed.

- What, can’t I say what things are ? That’s really all the wokist’s fault, nowadays we can’t say anything, we have to walk on eggshells at all times ! I’m not racist, but if you want racism to stop, you have to stop overreacting at everything !”

She looks at me with a smug look, as I’m about to lose it. I can’t answer anything, because, unfortunately, one can’t argue out of nonsense ! Especially someone like me who’s not trained in rhetoric – I had part-time jobs at the time !

… at least, I can shield that person with a dress from further harassment. I look behind, and see them smiling to me, thankful for my help. If I can help at least one person, I’ll be happy.

Suddenly, the sound of thunder rings in my ears.

No one seems to be bothered by it, save for the old woman who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. I turn to see the person I was protecting, however their eyes glow an unnatural color… What’s-

Before I can even try and understand what’s happening, a headache strikes, and I instinctively put my hand on my face. Fuck, I hope I haven’t gotten a cold or something, medication is hard to come by…

As I’m holding my face, a few fingers make their way in my beard (ugh). But suddenly, I feel it shifting. Intrigued, I touch my beard more thoroughly, and feel the hairs receding, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally come back under my skin.

How did that happen ? I mean, I like not having a beard, but still, it’s not normal… I look in front of me and it seems that the woman is losing wrinkles. What’s happening !

The bus stops. Quite a few people leave. Why was I here ? … yes, I had to do something with the people on it… was it work ? I don’t quite remember…

However, as I look around me, I suddenly notice that the people who looked away previously looked a little bigger. As if they were… bulking up ? As I notice that, I feel pain on my body. When I look down, it seems that my undernourished body looks more healthy… No, not just healthy, it looks… muscular ? I’m… inflating, somehow ?

The bus starts again, yet this time, its course seems smoother… I look in front of me and notice that the old – now young – woman’s hair is now tied up in a bun. Almost instinctively, I take my hand to my hair, and feel it moving.

What was a short messy afro is growing, however, something even weirder happens. As it grows, I feel strands joining, growing into large spirals. It’s no longer a sponge-like mass, it’s more like… coils ? My hand presses less and less. I need to be careful about my hair, I don’t want to have to go to the hairdresser again !

I stop myself at my thoughts. Hairdresser ? They’re a waste of time ! Only those who don’t care about life – or don’t have to care about life – go to those and try to look good. Yet… it feels good. No, actually, it feels... right…

Like, it’s right to want to look good ? I mean, look at me, I have muscles, I have good hair, I look good ! Suddenly, I feel my t-shirt straightening and softening. I look down as its color drains, and it splits in the middle. I smirk, and as the collar hardens and folds, I open it the shirt up to the middle of my chest, right as buttons materialize.

The woman in front of me, now sporting a much more formal costume, sighs and gives me a black jacket. I take it and put it on expertly on top of my dress shirt, fitting it right down to the belt holding my dark jeans. She then sits on one of the seats, more in the front of the bus.

She really looks stylish, as one should… after all, fashion is the be-all and end-all ! One of the other passengers comes to me, quite a muscular guy dressed in a black suit, and starts putting makeup on me. I close my eyes as foundation, concealer, mascara, and tattoos are put on my face and body. I can do it all myself, but having a professional do it is always better. That’s why I always go around accompanied.

I suddenly open my eyes. What the hell is happening ! I don’t have a tattoo ! I don’t do makeup ! Hair and clothes suffice ! ...

I scratch my shaved sides, until I reach my earrings. Yeah, it suffices… good hair, good clothes, good makeup and good accessories… it suffices…

“Are you good, Mx. Ndiaye ?” The makeup artist asks me.

- Yes, don’t worry, I’m good.” I say, with a deep yet feminine voice. It seems wrong somehow…

- Do you want to see the results ?

- Of fucking course !”

The makeup artist grabs a pocket mirror and holds it to me.

Oh yeah, I’m so fucking gender ! Plus my necklaces oozes fanciness. Like, it makes me look so fucking rich !

I look around me. The vehicle somehow seems more… cramped, even though at the same time it seems more spacious, with its large seats. My head hurts, it really feels like something is wrong…

Suddenly, the limousine stops. Annoyed, I shout to the chauffeur :

“Magdalena ! Why the hell are you stopping ? We’re not at the villa yet !”

The chauffeur looks back. Wasn’t she an old grumpy woman just now ? She looks so young and has such fancy clothes, even though it’s quite clear that she isn’t from high society.

Ugh, my head really hurts...

“I’m sorry, Mx. Ndiaye, we have new guests to pick up at your request.”

I look around and see that person with a dress leaving. Suddenly, it all comes back as a flash of light. I’m not supposed to be an ultra-rich person, I don’t need all of these fancy clothes and accessories ! … I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE STREETS !

That person, as if they were reading in my mind, answers in a rich and deep yet slightly unsettling feminine voice :

“You have the gratitude of the calamities, Mx. Ndiaye. Accept this… gift.” They say, smiling as they get out, followed by the makeup artist and one of my two personal guards – the other staying at the front of the vehicle.

Suddenly, it’s as if a fog descends on my mind. Like, what was I thinking about ? Oh, yeah, I was thinking about my next song that I’ll film in the villa ! Ugh, it’s so annoying that my agent asks me to pump out banger after banger like, I have all the money in the world… but I guess it’s alright to work a little. This way, I get famous and get laid, and that’s the only thing that really matters.

As I’m about to shout on the chauffeur to ask why she’s not turning the limousine back on, two guys, a cute twink and hot hunk, climb aboard. I lick my lips. It’s gonna be a great night.

“So, guys,” I say, letting them take place in my arms at my right and my left. “have you heard of my new song that’s gonna come out ? If you’re good enough, I might even let you in in the filming for the clip…”

And the limousine sets off.

The sun comes to my eyes, and I wake up in a giant luxurious queen bed, with my two conquests sleeping tight at my left and my right.

I smile as I get up, naked. Yesterday’s clothes were flung in all directions, and as I approach them, I see they’re all crumpled. I chuckle. We had a ton of fun last night… Besides, Magdalena’s gonna be the one to pick that all up.

I take from the closet a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt, and put them on quickly. I go to the balcony, and look at the view.

Life is really unjust.

I get to live the perfect life, while others are left to pick up the remaining pieces.

But when you’re on its good side,

Life is fucking lit.

[tobesolonely]

i hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

harry is y/n's boss, and he's also a super rich ceo :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N never planned on becoming a personal assistant.

In fact, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life. College was enlightening because she was having a good time learning a little bit of everything, but it was almost…too much. How was she supposed to settle on just one career when the world was filled with so many different  opportunities? 

So while working as a personal assistant was never a part of her life’s plans, the older Y/N got the more she realized that life is funny sometimes and try as she might, it’s impossible to plan for everything. Besides, working as a personal assistant for an extremely successful (and surprisingly kind) CEO did have its perks. The pay, for starters, was better than anything she would’ve earned anywhere else working three times as hard, and not to mention the flexibility he allowed her was unheard of.

Thus, Y/N earned extra money working for Mr. Harry Styles when she wasn’t busy with class or school work, and in return, he paid her fairly and treated her with graciousness - he even bought her dinner sometimes and ate it with her late at night in his office when they were spending time combing through files and reviewing reports. He was a fair boss and always understanding whenever she told him she had more work than anticipated and wouldn’t be able to go in to help that day. According to Harry, she was a student first, and an assistant second, so he never pressured her to put the company above her studies. 

Being Mr. Styles' personal assistant involved lots of calls, setting up meetings, and checking his spreadsheets and productivity reports. Occasionally she'd do the whole “run-and-get-his-coffee” thing, but that didn't happen often - and when he did, he always made sure to buy for Y/N as well. 

“Miss Y/L/N? Could you come to my office when you get a free moment, please?”

The sound of Harry’s voice crackles through the intercom in Y/N’s tiny space, a room adjoining his own office. Additionally, it functioned as a waiting room of sorts when people were meeting with the boss. Y/N enjoyed surveying the expressions on her co-workers' faces whenever they met with Mr. Styles. Everyone always seemed so nervous and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. Was he not as nice to everyone else as he was to her? 

“Sure thing,” she holds down on the button beside the speaker as she relays her response. “Is there anything I can bring you beforehand?” The button is released as she awaits his answer. It comes immediately.

“That’s alright, Y/N. I just need your help reviewing something. Won’t take long.”

Y/N ignores the flutter she feels in her tummy when Harry calls her by her first name. He didn’t do it often but sometimes he did, and she couldn’t deny she liked the way it sounded rolling off his tongue. 

“Be right there, Mr. Styles.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Do these numbers look…odd to you?”

Y/N leans forward in her seat across from Harry as he turns his large monitor screen to face her. She’s faced with a busy spreadsheet filled with numbers, and a confused expression quickly overcomes her features. 

“What numbers am I looking at, sir?” Y/N can’t help the heat that begins to flood her face. “‘M not too familiar with Excel…know I probably should be seeing that I’m an assistant and all that but-”

“It’s fine,” Harry cuts her off with a small smile on his face. “It’s a busy document. I could’ve been more clear - I was referring to the bolded numbers. They’re smaller than last month’s, do you agree?”

With her attention now directed to the right part of the document, Y/N examines the numbers as she tries to think back to last month’s revenue. While it differed, she didn’t think it was significant. Then again, she wasn’t the one running a multimillion-dollar company.

“I see how there’s a bit of discrepancy. I can double-check and look through all of the documents to ensure everything has been accounted for if you’d like, sir.” Y/N watches as her boss’s shoulders noticeably slump in relief.

“Could you do that?” His tone is hopeful, eager. “I mean, do you have the time? I’m already running late to a meeting that I sent the Zoom link for, gotta hop on and get a handle on that…”

For the first time since Y/N began working for Mr. Styles, she senses that he’s overwhelmed. He’s usually so calm and carefree, much more carefree than she imagines she would be with such big responsibilities, but right now he seems…tense. Upset.

“I just need to get a confirmation for that event you’re speaking at next week and then I can do it.”

“I owe you dinner. Thank you, Miss Y/L/N,” he gives her a pointed look. “I’ll share the spreadsheet and documents from the previous and current months with you, and you can let me know if I missed anything.”

Even though Harry’s bought her dinner more times than she can even count before, something feels different about the way he says it this time. She has to look down so he doesn’t see the sheepish look on her face. 

“I’ll be right next door if you need me.”

Harry grins. “I know.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As it turns out, Harry did make a mistake.

It wasn’t a big deal and easily fixable but man was he grateful to her.  No one made Y/N feel smarter and more appreciative of her being there than Mr. Styles. 

“That’s great, really,” Harry tells her for at least the third time in ten minutes. “I would’ve never caught that. Never! ‘M not ashamed to admit a second set of eyes is always helpful - at least for me.”

Y/N looks down to hide her timidness. She loves praise, but it still makes her shy! “Well, thank you, Mr. Styles. I know you have like, actual people for this…” she pauses as she shifts from foot to foot. “But if you ever just want me to take a quick peek ‘cause I’m right next door, I don’t mind.”

Harry gives Y/N a look she can't quite discern before speaking again. “I think I'll be taking you up on that. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? Already helped me out so much today, don't you still have that project you need to finish up for your class?”

“Are you sure?” She gives her boss a puzzled look. “I have, like, a ton of work left to do here.” 

“Someone else can do it,” he flashes her a warm, dimpled smile. “It's fine, Miss Y/L/N. School first, remember what I always say.” 

Y/N ignores the sensation she feels in her belly from Harry’s stern tone of voice. “Yes sir. I….thank you. I appreciate it. I can make up the time and stay later tomorrow-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Harry straightens a stack of papers on his desk. “Same time tomorrow, or will you be coming in a bit later?” 

“Can I let you know tomorrow? It depends on how much of my project I finish tonight.”

“That works. Please get home safe, Miss Y/L/N. Try and enjoy the rest of your day.” 

“Thank you,” Y/N quietly responds.  When she turns to exit his office, she hesitates before turning back to him. “Are you gonna leave soon too?” She hoped she wasn't overstepping by asking. 

Harry lets out a quiet laugh. “Hopefully. I have one more meeting, and have to make sure everything is ready for a deal we're closing on tomorrow.” 

“Okay…well, see you tomorrow,” she pauses before quickly adding. “I hope your night doesn't run too late.” 

“Me too. Thanks, Y/N.” 

Harry looks back down at his work, and Y/N takes that as her cue to leave. She gently shuts the door behind her and lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding once back in the privacy of her own office. Y/N felt so flustered! The fact that Harry was allowing her to leave early so she could finish her homework didn't surprise her - it wasn't the first time he did it, and it wouldn't be the last. She was mainly just surprised Harry even remembered she had a project! Y/N mentioned it to him once briefly last week when she first had assigned it and said nothing else about it. To know that he remembered and was concerned about her finishing it on time made her feel…cared for. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N is drowning.

As it would turn out, her project was turning out to be a lot more time-consuming than she initially anticipated. She had to write a research essay and create an infographic to supplement it, and she was still stuck on the research part! She’d been working on it for hours– ever since she finished class at 10 am, but now the time was after 1 pm and she needed to be to work in an hour. Even though Harry always told her school came first, she wanted to be a good employee for him! She already left work early yesterday - she couldn’t skip out on her shift. Y/N realized she was an…untraditional employee, and she didn’t want to be fired so Harry could have an assistant with more availability. He always told her he appreciated her help whenever she gave it, but she still couldn’t help feeling like she didn’t do enough. She flings those thoughts to the side as she refocuses her attention on her work. 

Y/N falls so deep down the Google rabbit hole that she doesn’t realize the amount of time that’s passed until her phone is ringing. The name “MR. STYLES” lights up her phone and she curses under her breath as she realizes she was supposed to be at the office nearly 30 minutes ago. She picks up and immediately begins apologizing. 

“Mr. Styles! I’m so sorry, I lost track of time because I’m just so overwhelmed with this project and it’s not really going that well but I can be there in twenty minutes, I promise!”

There’s a small pause on the line before Harry replies. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

His answer takes Y/N aback. The last thing she was expecting was for her busy boss to offer up his assistance with a trivial college research project. “But…don’t you have, like, work to do?”

“I always have work to do, Miss Y/L/N,” he answers nonchalantly. “It can wait. I am the boss, after all. Why don’t you come in and let me take a look?”

Y/N’s hesitant, not wanting to bother Harry with something he was so far removed from such as her college assignments, but he was offering, and well…two heads were better than one. So Y/N tells him she’ll be there shortly, thanks him again profusely, and ends the call. She sits unmoving on her couch for a second after hanging up, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in her tummy. Mr. Styles wanted to help her! With school work! It made her dizzy to think about it for too long. She finally stands to gather her things, trying to stick to her promise of arriving as quickly as possible–Y/N figures she’s already kept him waiting long enough.

She makes it to the office fairly quickly, greeting the front desk staff as she walks through the lobby. Harry’s corner office was located on the very top floor of the 20-story building. It was quite the view. Y/N sets her tote bag down on her desk before taking out her laptop and notebook filled with information pertaining to her project. She takes a deep breath before knocking on the door connecting her office with Harry’s. He lets out a quick, “Come in!” to which Y/N complies, letting herself in.

Harry looks up from his computer once she enters the room, his hard gaze immediately softening. “Oh, Y/N. You look so tense. Come sit, let me see what we’re working with.”

“I’ve got a bulk of the research done,” Y/N mutters quietly as she pulls back the chair from his desk. “I’m just having a tricky time organizing my thoughts.” She slides her open notebook across the table at him, watching anxiously as he reads over her tiny scrawl. After reading over her work in silence for a couple of minutes, he clears his throat and speaks.

“Is it just me, or have school assignments become enormously mundane?” his brow furrows in confusion. “A research paper and an infographic? Bit of an overkill, hm?”

“That’s what I said,” Y/N shakes her head in disgust. “Everything on my infographic is coming straight from my paper, anyway!”

“How about I start making an outline for your paper?” He looks down at the notebook again. “I think I can see where you're going with this. ‘M not very creative though, maybe you can get started on your infographic.”

“You could do that for me?” 

“After all you've done for me?” Harry sucks his teeth. “C’mon. I'm no monster, Y/N.” He flashes her a dimpled grin. 

“Thank you,” Y/N says for what had to be the hundredth time that day. “Anything helps, Mr. Styles. I owe you one.”

Harry waves his hand dismissively. “None of that. Would you like to work here, or are you going back to your office?”

Y/N looks down at her clammy hands folded in her lap. “If you don't mind, can I stay here? Just so you can ask me questions about my work if you have any?”

“I think that's a wonderful idea,” he tilts his head curiously at her. “Have you eaten today? I was thinking of ordering something. Does Thai sound good?” 

“Oh, I had banana pancakes this morning before class,” she bites her lip. “I'm okay.” 

“Nonsense. It's already past three,” he opens his desk drawer and pulls out a take-out menu. “This place is great - I'm a regular. Let me know what you'd like. I always get the basil stir fry.”

Y/N wordlessly takes the menu and reviews it for a few moments before settling on a crispy tofu dish. Once their order is called in, Harry locks his phone and places his attention back on Y/N.

“Someone will bring that up to us when it gets here. Let's get started, shall we?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry’s the first one to break their comfortable silence. 

He pushes his glasses up on his nose, clearing his throat. “What do you think about this, Y/N?” He turns his monitor toward Y/N so she can see what he’s doing. He has a neatly organized outline, bullet pointed and everything.

“I think it looks really good,” Y/N says with a nod of her head. “The bullet points look like they’ll be easy to follow. Thank you for your help."

“I like helping you. You help me all the time.” Harry says this so matter-of-fact, as if he were stating the sky was blue. He wordlessly turns back to the document he has open, beginning to type again. They’re interrupted twenty short minutes later by a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Harry calls out curtly. The door opens and in walks someone Y/N recognizes from the accounting department.

“Mr. Styles, I have those reports you needed finished. Would you like to review them?”

“Not now,” he responds immediately. “I’m busy.”

The accountant has a look of what she assumes to be slight annoyance on his face. She wonders if Harry catches it. “I’ve been trying to go over these things with you for nearly a week, sir...it needs to be signed off on and submitted.”

“It’ll have to wait, Mitch.”

Harry’s answers are short, and it’s obvious he’s not in the mood to talk about work. The accountant opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but stops himself, turning to leave instead. Harry doesn’t seem perturbed at all, but Y/N feels bad! Was Mr. Styles putting off work to help her?

“Okay, sir,” the accountant turns to place his hand on the doorknob. “Perhaps we can review tomorrow?”

“Perhaps.”

The accountant opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something but he decides against it, deciding to just leave instead. After a somewhat awkward silence, Y/N breaks it.

“Thank you for helping me again. I know I keep saying that, but I know you’re really, really busy.”

“Again, I like helping you," he pauses. “Why don’t we call it a night now? I’m sure you’ll do more work when you get home anyway.”

Y/N nods at this and grabs her notebook from in front of Harry, shutting her laptop. "Thank you again."

"Let me walk you out. I'm going that way too."

Y/N walks through the door to her own office and gathers her bag, slipping her laptop inside. She turns around to find Harry standing in the doorway giving her an expectant look.

"Ready?"

They enter the elevator together and Harry presses the first floor button, pressing his back against the wall. Y/N does the same. As the elevator descends to the first floor, Y/N feels Harry’s eyes on her but she doesn’t turn to look at him. Once the elevators open, they exit the elevator and make their way towards the parking lot.

“My car’s on this level,” Y/N tells Harry, exiting the elevator. “Thank you for walking me with me, Mr. Styles.”

“Of course. Same time tomorrow?”

“I’d like that,” Y/N gives Harry a bashful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Styles.”

With that, Harry gives her a small grin as the elevator doors are closing. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Please let me know what you think! Part 2 soon :)

[eerna]

Omg the way Eloise is written as a feminist character BOTHERS me. I can’t always put my finger on why, but a thing that sticks out to me the most is how she just says the most blatantly basic (for us 21st century viewers) things and idk it’s supposed to seem revolutionary… but it’s never clever. And it is never deep.

Anyways I saw your tag on the Eloise/Cressida post and I was curious to hear any elaboration of your thoughts on her feminist portrayal? (But no pressure!)

YEEAAAH EXACTLY! I have the same issue, Eloise just says 21st century equality stuff without ever having read a single feminist pamphlet (this is canon, she doesn't start reading them or attending discussions until she's 18). Somehow she developed a perfectly uniform idea of modern womanhood when she was isolated and raised to be a traditional lady. Her opinions should be WAY more half baked and full of holes because this life is the only one she'd ever known. That's not even mentioning the inability to discuss feminism without discussing class, something Eloise has No Idea About.

Then comes the issue of writing. This is a stupid show. No one looks smart on this show. So when Eloise drops a "smart comment", it is cringe and dumb. She is supposed to be eloquent and witty, but most of the time she looks like a mean snob belittling everyone around her.

Another issue is that everyone else around her is a horrible sexist caricature. Yes, she is snobby, but my god every other woman only cares about men and marriage and gossip so I can't even blame her all that much for it. Her friends don't really care about what she has to say and will always leave her to go chase a man. And even SHE starts fitting the description the moment she falls for a guy - she lies to her friend and puts everyone in danger, and 90% of the reason is a man with only 10% being her self actualization. You can't write a proper feminist if everyone in your story has the same goal, which is to find a husband. It doesn't help that we know Eloise is headed for marriage and babies because every time a character expresses they don't want one or both of those things, they are proven wrong by the narrative.

And finally, my last thing making Eloise a bad feminist character, is that she is SO PASSIVE. Sure, it might be the point of the show as Pen calls her out for it, but we still don't know if they are gonna fix it so I am putting it here anyway. She only talks and complains about her lot in life, but never acts against society. I was happy when she started sneaking out and hang out with The Working Class Feminists TM, but that turned out to be a short failed romance subplot instead of a character moment and she gave up on it almost right away, so it doesn't count. And now in s3 she decided to embrace society and its expectations, so I am not sure we will ever get to see that kind of rebellion again - I sure hope so! But idk.

As a "well written Eloise" character, I'd like to suggest Felicity Montague. She is a character from a 18th century romcom, a noble lady, aroace and trying to go to med school when her gender prevents her from getting an education. She doesn't use her screentime for long-winded monologues about the unfairness of the world, she ACTS on her thoughts and opinions so we know what they are. She switches covers of romance books and textbooks so she can study without being bothered, she runs away from home to try make her dreams come true, she finds alternative solutions. Her thoughts are never lauded as One Truth, in fact she is often called out for the blind spots in her opinions since she too grew up a sheltered noble and can't account for all experiences. She is surrounded by women who challenge her ideas and make her into a better friend and person. AND she is funny and reading her is just plain fun. You CAN do a feminist who doesn't belong in her era, you just have to be careful to also make her a good character.

[schoenht]

Omg sol I just used my braincell hear me out

I'm thinking of Riddle, Azul, and Vil in a royalty au... Do with that information what you will (I am begging on my knees for hcs or anything plsplspls)

characters: vil schoenheit, azul ashengrotto, riddle rosehearts.

genre: royal au, enemies to lovers/belief of unrequited love (vil), childhood friends to lovers/arranged marriage (riddle), masquerade (azul)

a/n: CRACKS KNUCKLES LOUDLY YOU CAME TO THE RIGHT PERSON i say as i desperately hide the tons of royal aus in my drafts in every blog ever (do not mind how long these are, they're like. actual fics almost.) different format bc each one will have its own name and title

warning: fem!reader (main use of "princess", "bride" and she/her for azul's part), banter for vil (its enemies to lovers ofc there's banter)

♡ ━ 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

In every fairytale, there was always a magical ball where everyone's dreams came true and everyone lived happily ever after, with their true love. But as you stared at the waltzing figures before you, you could only mutter curses under your breath.

As the princess in line for the throne, you had a multitude of royal duties to attend to, none of which should have included you attending the Winter Ball. The duchess was supposed to take your place, yet she decided to mess around and was unable to make it. You stepped in--because you had no other choice. The king had told you that it was either the Ball or going through a few hundred files on the exports of wheat.

At the sight of him, you mentally punched yourself for not choosing the files. He was beautiful, like sunlight reflecting on freshly fallen snow. He was elegant, carrying himself with a grace unmatched by anyone. The air around him seemed to freeze, causing him to glow. It was said that a single teardrop from his eye could make even the most wilted flowers bloom to life. There were myths about how if you looked into his eyes, you would melt from his amethyst-colored eyes, more radiant than the sun itself.

More like be paralyzed, Medusa could never, you told yourself as you stared at Vil Schoenheit, next in line to be king. He had been your enemy since you were toddlers. He had pushed you out of the way so he could ride a tricycle before you and you kicked sand at him. Granted, you were the one that got in major trouble for that but the moment of satisfaction was worth it. But that wasn't the last time you two crashed heads.

It became worse over the years. You thought he was pretentious, he thought you were overconfident. You always hated how he would constantly look down on you and he loathed how you would act like the complete opposite of a princess. In classes, you were always the one that defeated him in tons of tests, until it came to hands-on projects. Whether your professors loved to see the two of you fight, you'd never know. But they always put you two together for projects and the class had always been on edge, waiting for something to explode, maybe even one of you. Luckily, that never happened but you were close to dropping a potion on his hair and he was close to purposefully throwing his grade if it meant you'd fall too.

It had been years since that era. You were too busy completing all the duties necessary for a princess. Your hatred for him was simmering back up, a trained instinct. With your arms crossed, you watched as he walked through the room, graciously dodging the massive fanclub he got. His head lifted and his eyes locked with yours. That was the first time you had ever seen him genuinely off guard. You waited for a glare or something to let you know he hated you.

Nothing.

That was worse. You stood there, dumbfounded. You shook it off, thinking that it was better like that. He would leave you alone and you'd leave him alone. That was exactly how you liked it. Or so you thought. However, when you looked back at all those years without him, you always felt a pang in your chest, inexplicable. It didn't matter. You were nothing compared to him, and he made that clear. You didn't care.

Meanwhile, Vil was being escorted to the opposite side of the ballroom. He was curious to find out why you were here but then he remembered that his feelings towards you were not altogether positive. His eyes narrowed faintly before he gracefully accepted the dance invitations from several of his fans. He waltzed through the room with them and it seemed as though they were floating through the crowd from how smoothly they went. Vil was an expert at ballroom dancing, your complete opposite. Last time he remembered seeing you try to ballroom dance, you stepped on your partner's feet. He could recall going home and bursting out into manic laughter. The look on your face had been...quite endearing. He shook his head again, pushing away those thoughts. Why did they exist in the first place? He shouldn't have been thinking about you at all.

You took a glass of apple cider from one of the waiters passing by, sipping it. The taste was sweet but just enough to be pleasant. You tried to appear bored, but your eyes followed Vil as he danced with everyone who pleaded to have the honor of his presence bestowed on them. With a scoff coming out of you, you sat down, toying with the shiny utensils.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Perhaps I'll do you a favor and keep you company, maybe my radiance can help you go from...a disaster to something slightly decent."

You groaned at hearing his voice. He was too flawless as you stared up at him. He matured from the last time you saw him. His blond hair was longer, purple tips at the end. His eyelids were intricately painted and his clothes were nothing less than expensive. He looked the part of the prince, especially how he held himself. In comparison to you, you knew that he had practiced beforehand, aware of the event. You snorted, rolling your eyes at him. "I think that the pigs' company is much better than yours. At least they are self aware."

"Are they? I'm quite sure they do not care, as long as they get scraps."

"What do you want, Vil?"

Vil wasn't sure. He stared down at you, believing that he came over just to tease you. However the sight of you was a comfort to him, so much so that he could not help but be drawn to you. You were his sole constant, the one to bring him to reality. Everyone else wanted desperately to be seen with him, yet you did everything in your power to not be seen with him. He should have hated that fact, he should have.

Then why did his heart pound whenever you glared at him? Why did the anger in your eyes make him weak at the knees? Why in the world did he find himself dizzy at the sight of you?

He shook his head. He was acting like an idiot. "Come. Let us dance."

"Hell no."

"Oh? Then perhaps I'll just claim that I'm the victor of the ballroom--" He was cut off by you taking his hand unceremoniously and leading him to the center of the ballroom. His hand was on your hip delicately, the other one holding yours. It was such a small detail, but you noticed that his nails were painted the exact shade as yours. That idea was preposterous since the nail polish was extraordinarily rare to find and a hassle to obtain.

Vil was looking at you with an expression you couldn't place. You gritted your teeth, hating the way he looked at you and mostly, hating the way your heart was racing. You knew everyone was watching, you knew that his fanclub was seething since they all knew how much you loathed the man. Making eye contact was your worst mistake. You could feel your breath stop short. Then, with agony, you realized that you didn't harbor hatred for him. No, quite the opposite really. You had had feelings for him for the longest time. You didn't know how it happened, but you knew when it did.

There was no way you'd tell him.

You let go of him, your eyes wide, matching his in shock. "I...I need to go."

Vil watched as you left, the sounds of your footsteps becoming fainter. He felt you physically and mentally withdrawing from him. He now knew what feeling helpless was like. He knew what it felt like to not be loved in the same way. His fist was clenched and he murmured pardons as he moved to the balcony, staring at the moon as if it would give him answers.

Instead, he was faced with a fact: the only person he had ever loved had never loved him and it would remain that way. He could never be loved.

♡ ━ 𝐒𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

A knight, descendant of a noble family and serving as the most prestigious graduated scholar of the royal academy, you were a force to be reckoned with. You had been the master strategist from a young age and the people fully looked up to you. Even when you were little, you were taught how to do several difficult subjects. But you didn't want to be a scholar. You had been taught by the general (who was your babysitter at the time) how to spar. He would constantly have you spar with him.

Little Azul could remember these moments with clarity. At the sound of murmurs of another sparring session, his little chubby legs would lead him straight to you to watch what was going to happen. He would cry out when you were tossed to the floor like a ragdoll but you sprang up, a new determination on your face. He recalled how he would carry a first aid kit around with him constantly, pressing bandaids to your knees when you scraped them.

There was one time where you were the one that took care of him instead. He had fallen off of your horse and he was holding back tears. You carefully wiped his injury and placed a bandaid over it. Then you pressed a kiss to his knee. "My mom says that can help speed up the healing process!"

Azul knew that was a lie, but he didn't say anything. He was too flustered.

The years passed by and he became smarter, more knowledgeable in several fields. You became stronger and more graceful in your fights. During the annual tournaments amongst the knights, you had risen to the top quickly. His eyes were focused on you as you skillfully wielded your sword against your opponents. At the end of your final battle, every year without fail, you would look at him and wink, a secret message between the two of you. As you grew older though, he came to anticipate it and each time, he would feel his face get red.

It was worse when his own bodyguards noticed. He was working on the exports of wheat when Floyd Leech came in, a smug smile on his face as he put down an invitation. "Boss, you've got an invitation! Well, this is a first draft but the palace is going to have a masquerade ball!"

Azul raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't have time for such ordeals, I have too much work to do." In truth, he hated those events because it meant mingling with other royals who were stuffy and stuck up. They all talked about the same things or drama going on amongst them. Granted, when he met up with you, he always heard gossip from you but it was different. It was you.

Jade Leech came up right next to his twin brother. "But, Your Highness, this is the event that everyone is invited to. Including the knights." His voice was subtly suggestive, a smile on his face.

Azul's glasses almost fell off from how flustered he was. His face was red as he looked up at the twins. "What are you insinuating?"

"Oh, nothing, unless you count how down bad horrendous you are for the captain!" Floyd was cackling. "Boss, everyone sees it. She could be walking across the gardens and your eyes are on her like a moth to light. It's so cute, awwww, you're in love!"

"H-How dare you imply such a ridiculous notion?" He stood up suddenly, his papers all flying to the floor in a scrambled mess.

Jade snickered. "It's not ridiculous, Your Highness. You have known each other since you were little. But, oh dear, there have been talks going around of other knights wanting to ask her to the ball. Dear me, what would happen if you didn't ask her beforehand?"

"Ooh, maybe I'll ask her! I can show her my fresh moves!" Floyd chimed in.

Azul sighed, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Your job now is to ensure no one asks her before me. It's been a while since I've seen her. Hopefully, she will say yes."

But it seemed like each time he saw you, his nerves got to him. Had you always been this beautiful? He knew the answer to that already. Just the sight of you rough-housing with the other knights made his heart flutter, knowing full well that you were the one protecting him and never vice versa. You were the one with a strong will. It was his turn. He took a deep breath and went up to you. "Y/N, may I speak with you? In private?"

The other knights nudged you and you shoved them before following Azul. "What's up?"

His face was a vibrant red. "W-Will you go to the ball with me? It's okay if you don't want to, but I trust you and there's no one else I'd want to go with and--" This was a common thing that you learned about Azul through your years of friendship: when he was nervous, he would keep rambling unless stopped.

"Of course!" You were smiling. "I'd love to. What color are you wearing?"

"Um...purple."

"Okay, I'll wear that. I'll see you then!"

Even the day of, he was still surprised that he managed to ask you and much less have you at his side. You looked simply divine. In his mind, he was only thinking of how neither the moon nor the stars could hold a candle to your beauty. He wasn't aware that he had said all of that out loud and your face was burning. He, on the other hand, was more embarrassed than anything until you told him that it was cute. He was thankful that the mask over his eyes partly covered how his eyes shifted everywhere but at you.

One of the things that Azul had not learned was ballroom dancing. He never thought that he'd need it. He was sitting at the table, watching as Floyd danced with you. Jade sat next to him, an amused expression on his face. "Your Highness, if you keep avoiding the dances, someone might steal her away. Floyd is very close to doing that."

"Jade, I can't dance. What was I thinking?!" Azul buried his face in his hands. "If I can't dance, how am I supposed to spend my time with them?"

"Just go for it. Maybe your confidence will take over. Besides, she's your best friend. She will not judge you."

Azul took a deep breath, standing up and going over to you. A slow song had come on and you were laughing at a joke Floyd had made. Azul asked, "Floyd, may I steal her from you?" It wasn't a question and Floyd knew it. He was grinning as he skipped away, allowing you to fall into Azul's arms. He cleared his throat. "My lady, may I have this dance?"

You bowed slightly. "It would be my pleasure."

His hand was on your hip and the other clasping yours gently. It should have been an incredibly romantic moment if it wasn't for the fact that he was constantly stepping on your feet and looking anywhere but at you. You raised an eyebrow at him. "Didn't you say you would have this dance? So then why am I leading?"

"Human legs are stupid and built stupid."

"Okay, why can Floyd do it?"

"Because he is abnormal."

You laughed before twirling him. "You act like a prince who is untouchable, but let's be honest, when it comes to things like this, you cannot handle it, can you? So then, why did you ask me to this dance if you can't dance?"

He took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Do you remember the times we used to dance together when we were little? Well, I thought that...now that we're older, we could have a more romantic version of that, one where I was able to twirl you around and have you fall in love with me. Maybe I could be cool and dip you, take your breath away. But it seems that you are the one that has easily taken my breath away. If you do not feel the same way--"

You kissed the corner of his lips, effectively causing his brain to malfunction as he turned to you. "For someone as smart as you, you are so stupid sometimes, Azul. I said yes because I like you too."

"So...if you return my feelings, we can come to an equal agreement."

You rolled your eyes and dipped him instead. "Stop being so logical for once, Your Highness. Enjoy the moment instead."

And he did. He knew that he was stumbling several times, but he did not care. He heard your light laughter each time and it made his heart swell. As he twirled you under his hand, he found himself falling further for you. Perhaps you were his protector, but you were the one to easily tear down his walls and make him feel vulnerable. But he trusted you. His heart was in your hands and as he tugged you in for a gentle kiss, he told himself that he would never hesitate when it came to you. As long as it meant that he could have you in his arms, he would do absolutely anything for you. He would sacrifice it all if it meant that you stayed at his side.

Perhaps you were not a princess or even a royal. You were only a knight but at the sight of you leaning against the balcony under the night sky, he could not help but think that you were more beautiful than every queen and princess in history. And now you were all his.

BONUS:

Floyd collapsed next to Jade, groaning. "Damn it, Jade, why did you give him that speech?! If you gave me five more minutes--"

"You lost the bet fair and square, my dear brother."

"I didn't think Shrimpy had it in her!"

"She's a knight and the master strategist. He is a flustered, rambling mess of a prince who turns red at the thought of her. Did you seriously think that he would be the suave one and dip her? Or even kiss her?"

Floyd grumbled as he handed the money over. "Look at them now. He's staring at her with this stupid look on his face, ew."

"That's called love, Floyd. Someday you'll find it, as long as you can tie your shoes properly."

♡ ━ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒

Riddle's childhood memories served of only you. He eradicated all other negative thoughts of his childhood, only thinking about you. As the Crown Prince, he was trained to be the cream of the crop, only the best to impress his mother, the Queen. There was no other way to describe his past than torture. However, you served as a beacon of light and hope for him.

He could recall how often you would sneak him out. You were the Crown Princess but discarded that title in your mannerisms. He had heard from his mother that you were nothing but an "insolent buffoon who had nothing better to do than make everyone's lives miserable". At first, he believed that you were a demon, horns, tails, and all. But once he met you, the image fell apart.

You introduced him to multiple new activities that he had never tried. Outside of books, ink, and the endless pursuit of mind-numbing knowledge, he had no hobbies and much less, any friends. He was a quiet child, yet he went along with your schemes without thinking twice. Without you, he never would have discovered the magical world of sweets. His cheeks turned pink at the sugary delight, taking in all the flavors that he never got to savor before. He notably loved the strawberry tart that the baker would make for you and you would share with Riddle.

You were a reckless child, one that wasn't afraid to be roughed up. He was your complete opposite. He worried for you more often than not. After you had taken a particularly nasty fall, little Riddle started carrying around a tiny first aid kit with him. He was always prepared when you got hurt, carefully wiping away the dirt and putting on a cute pink bandaid on it.

It came as no surprise to either of you that Riddle got caught sneaking out to play with you. He was forbidden from seeing you, his mother, the queen, looking down at you in disgust. You merely frowned at her and looked at Riddle, whose head was hung in disappointment at losing his only friend. That didn't stop you. One night, you had snuck out of your own palace, your guards right behind you. You found a footing on the side of his palace, knocking at the window. When he opened his window, there was no end of shock on his face. He could not believe that you snuck in just to see him. And so, that is how you two would continue playing together, behind closed doors and hushed voices.

For years, this continued. You had found a way to interact with him, albeit having more royal duties placed on both of you. The royal birds were trained to send letters and as you grew, so did the amount of letters sent. His handwriting brought you a source of happiness that you could not retain from anything else. He constantly looked forward to your letters, the curve of every letter reminding him of your smile.

He didn't know when he started falling. Had your laugh always been this bright? Had your smile always been this kind? Had your eyes always sparkled? Most of all, why did his heart beat faster and louder in his ears? He couldn't understand and although he told you everything, this was the one thing he refused to tell you about. He did not want to know if you did not like him back, else he'd risk ruining your friendship.

But to his joy, you were the one that expressed your feelings first. You were afraid, yet he was ecstatic, accepting your feelings. From that moment on, you were almost inseparable. His thoughts would wander towards you. It did not matter what his mother had him do, his mind gave into the lovesick notions of the date you'd go on later that day. His music classes saw an increase of improvement and even his mother was astonished. He was not surprised, knowing full well that he saw your soft smile every time he played the piano.

On a night when he had snuck out to meet you under a blue moon with the sky full of stars, he realized that he was completely in love with you. He knew of many subjects, an expert in many of them. But it was at your touch that he turned into a flustered mess, not knowing what to do next. It was that very night too that you had shared your first kiss. He was taken aback, and the next thing he knew, his eyes were closed, holding you closer. The night was cold, yet he had never felt warmer that in your arms. Afterwards, he had been nervous, thinking that he was too eager at the moment. You had laughed and pressed a kiss to his head. "You keep overthinking, my pretty boy. It was nice."

"Are you sure? Or are you saying that to make me feel better? I just--I don't want to--" His face was cherry red, ready to go into a ramble out of fear that he was doing something wrong in the relationship, that he wasn't what you wanted. You merely kissed him once more and his mind slowed down to the point where he couldn't think of anyone else, only you. From that moment on, Riddle knew that you were the only one who could make his heart weak and make him ignore all the rules, if it meant having one more second with you.

The life of ecstasy came crashing down around him when a month later, his mother had revealed that he was going to be in an arranged marriage. Riddle's heart sank, knowing that his mother put him with someone he didn't love and wouldn't love like he loved you. "Who is it, Mother?"

"You shall see. The wedding will be in a week."

"A week?!"

"Do not worry, son, for this will help our queendom." His mother gently patted his cheek as she walked away. "My son will be married, this is the happiest day of my life!"

Riddle felt anything but happy. He had run out, switching the tables and snuck into your room to see you. His eyes were full of tears and you rushed to see him. You didn't even ask any questions, you were only worried about him crying. He buried his face in your shoulder, crying harder as he realized that he would not be able to feel your warmth anymore. Whoever he'd be married to, he didn't want them. He only wanted you. "I'm in an arranged marriage. I-I don't know who it is, I don't want to get married to a stranger!"

You had to swallow your own sobs. You were in his same situation, sold off to a stranger who you would never love. "Shh, Riddle...breathe...it'll be okay..."

"Run away with me." His voice was hushed. "Please. We can run away somewhere else, together."

"Riddle...I can't. I'm next in line for the throne. If I leave now, a tyrant will take over." You moved back and cupped his face, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. "I have a plan. You just have to go through with it, okay? Do you trust me?"

His eyes may have been full of sadness but there was a clear glint that stated how much he trusted you. He nodded. "I trust you. More than anyone."

With a kiss to his forehead, you told him the plan. A week later, both of you were suffering, on different sides of the venue. You still didn't know who you were getting married to and you were angry that you couldn't at least be at Riddle's wedding. Somehow your own wedding landed on his. But you had sent a warning to your future husband, stating that you would make his life a living hell the second the ring was on your finger.

Riddle was standing at the altar, his head facing his shoes. He knew you wouldn't be able to make it and he wouldn't be able to go to your wedding. How unfortunate that you would both be separated--he heard the song chosen for his future wife to walk down the aisle. When he looked up, he saw the most beautiful white dress he had ever seen in his life. But above all, even he couldn't hide how stunned he was at seeing you in the dress.

You were looking at Riddle like he was a mirage. No matter how many times you practiced your walk, you could not stop yourself from practically almost flying down the aisle. You needed answers. You were at the altar with him, both of you having matching surprised expressions. The minister put a cloth over the both of you so you would be able to share your vows in secret. Instead, Riddle asked, "You're my bride?"

"I-I guess? What is going on?"

Riddle closed his eyes, trying to stifle a giggle. "You're the only eligible princess of the most powerful empires. Since you were available..."

"Oh, that makes so much sense. Hmm, I know this might be too fast but we might as well go along with it, don't you think?" Your smile was bright and he could feel a glow inside of him.

The cloth was taken off of both of you and the minister continued, asking you if you took him as your husband. You did not hesitate in responding yes. Then he turned to Riddle. "Do you take Y/N L/N to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage?"

Riddle turned to you, his hands holding yours tightly. "I do."

"Then I now pronounce you to be husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride--"

But you hadn't hesitated. The minister didn't finish his words before you literally dipped Riddle and kissed him. The crowd was cheering, roaring in joy. None of them could compare to the happiness that the two of you had felt. Even in the carriage, you two felt as though you were on top of the world. His head was on your shoulder and he could not stop smiling. "We are now married. I didn't think I'd get married this early."

"I think they really pushed it on us. Maybe...in the future when we decide on our own, we can do it all over again. We can get married again."

He looked up at you with an adoration that was unmatched. "Of course." The bouquet of roses in your hands caught his eye. "Are those the roses I gave you twelve years ago?"

"Mhm, I put a preservation spell on them. A rose for each year we've known each other."

He couldn't begin to say how happy he was. All he could do was hold your hand, squeezing it and hoping his declaration of love would get to you, albeit silently.

[keruimi]

String of Fate

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x reader

Warning: Angst with Happy Ending, slight mention of suicide.

Note: I began to notice how some of my oneshots have a little detail of how they fall in love so my apologies if this goes the same with this one. I just really love writing the angst one. Hope you all enjoy it!

_____________________________

In this world where soulmates exist, meeting them is one of the biggest blessings we can receive.

But I, who was born with no red strings in sight, I thought they were just fairytales.

Until the people around me start to find their other half.

One by one.

That made me realize the reality I need to lived in ever since I was young. I was not gifted with natural talent, and even deprived of a soulmate.

That made me question, what did I do in my last lifetime to receive this kind of destiny?

It was one of the things I envy from many.

Without soulmates, its was known that you were already complete.

You were the type of person to live your life to the fullest without worrying about the destined one that was supposed to complete you.

But it made me lonely and empty.

It feel like my world was colorless. It feels like I have no rights to ask for the things I wanted before.

And a selfish thought came to my mind when a woman caught my eyes.

That woman became the reason why I started to hope once more.

Is it possible to break this kind of fate? Is it possible to just look for love by yourself?

Because I was sure I started loving her.

Amari Y/n

A classmate of mine whose heart is very kind. A woman who is willing to lend anything to help someone out.

Yet she is also one of the loneliest in our class. Never belong to any group of friends.

You can consider her as the friend you can run to, but never someone you can stay with.

And I'm sure we both think the same thing.

My first meeting with her is something I can't forget, when I realized I created a happy memory in her senior high school days.

When I lend her the heart that symbolizes the gratefulness of the giver to the receiver.

I was the first one to give her the heart out of how many hearts passed to the other classmates during our open forum.

I am the first one who gave it to her.

It was a simple action that I didn't mind yet the appreciation I heard from her was something that touched my heart.

She manages to appreciate that one action. I began to understand her situation better, that no matter how much she tried to be kind, no one ever told her even a simple thank you.

Not even a slight word of appreciation.

That made me want to care for her more.

Made me want to cherish her more, at least giving me a small hint of possibility that I can find love like the others did.

But I knew I can't never go against fate itself.

That one moment gave me a slight hope of a future full of love until we became friends.

Having her presence became one of the happiest moment in my life. It feels like I can finally breathe for once. Without berating myself for loving someone who is not mine.

But I should have known that we were not in the same shoes.

In other way, she would be destined to meet someone.

And it already happened before we even meet each other.

I knew her heart is already given to another man.

That first failure hurted me, knowing I would utterly be lonely. I wouldn't end up with anybody.

And if I keep trying to seek for love, one way or another, they would leave me too.

That even if I made her happy first, that would only last there.

"Oi Captain, you're lost in thought again" Hanamaki exclaimed as he put his hand on my shoulder as I looked ahead of me, where Matsukawa happily welcomed his soulmate to his life.

The feeling of jealousy can't even be exempted from my friends.

Why?

Why can't I have that same destiny like they have?

"Congratulations" I mumbled that made my friends look over to me who lifted a small smile from my lips.

It hurts.

I would never experience those.

"Hey Oikawa..."

"Quit sulking, I'm sure they are just out there" Iwaizumi hit my back as I just stumbled forward.

Even with that kind of fate, I can accept it. But it's hard to hope already.

Because even if I am admired by many, I only have my eyes on one woman who is already happy in the arms of another man.

I badly wanted to have her and I don't know why.

Yet I can only hope at least that in another life...

She can be mine...

That was a wish I couldn't prevent myself from not thinking.

This was just a one sided love. Where there's no happiness. A wish I would bring until I meet death, completely kept as a secret to many.

Because it was a crime yearning for someone else's soulmate.

But would they still blame me, if I proved myself right?

That she needed me more than her destined one.

Because I proved that to her when we met at the rooftop.

The place where she attempts to take her life.

When that one who was supposed to love her forever, rejected the bond I wished for.

"Let's talk, Y/n" I stuttered out as I saw her holding a knife towards her chest as her hands trembled.

"Why?..." I heard her mutter as tears fell from her eyes.

"What can I still do to be loved by someone?" She looked up at me and I saw the same longing I once saw in her gaze when I first met her.

Why is fate so cruel?

If you're just going to connect her with someone who doesn't want to be her, why didn't you just give her to me?

Why do we always need to cry for the same reason all over again? The existence of soulmates.

"Please listen to me"

"I already did everything" she let out in a tremble as a sob left her lips. "Everything"

"But no one wanted to stay with me. No one is willing to love me"

"You have me" I exclaimed as worry etch in my face as I slowly took one step at a time towards her.

"You have me Y/n" I whispered as she showed a painful smile.

"But you will leave too"

I shook my head at her words as I reached my hands for her.

"When the one who is destined to me decided to leave" she exclaimed followed by a chuckle before she slowly pointed the knife at me.

"How are you any different?" She let down the knife as she took a deep breath.

"I'm tired of trying to reassure myself that someone can still love me. Someone who would treasure me. Someone who can love me for who I am" Tears began to leave her eyes again before she turned her back on me.

"I'm tired of fooling myself that I am worth it." My feet began moving on their own when I saw her slowly walking towards the edge of the roof.

"Please Oikawa"

Her trembling voice made me stop behind her.

"Just let me end this. I don't want to suffer longer than I should be"

"Please" I whispered before I felt my arms surrounded her body.

"Stay with me"

And I finally caught a glimpse of the thing I badly wanted other than bringing my team to the nationals.

It was the red string that connected my heart to hers.

A concrete evidence that my destiny finally took pity on me.

It was the moment that almost scared me but the moment I receive the greatest blessing.

It seems like I don't need to wait for another life.

When she finally became mine in this life.

"Tooru!" I heard the voice of my soulmate as I hummed loudly that made her decide to enter while I continue to pack my things.

I didn't know how I changed but I knew I softened to the world more than before.

When I finally met my soulmate. Even if I was her second chance.

"Are you really going to leave?" She asked me before I felt her arms around my waist.

I turned and sat on the bed before I pulled her to my lap.

"Yes. I want to achieve one of my dream"

"Do you want to tag along?" I immediately suggested when I notice how she sadly gazes at my own.

"I don't want to burden you" she muttered that made me immediately shake my head.

"Of course not Y/n-chan! I think I will manage a different country better if you're with me. Do you really think I will leave without you?" I ask her before I tuck a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

"Maybe"

"I promise to provide for you, cherish you, assure you, and love you. Because that's my role"

"I have loved you ever since before we even became soulmates. You should know already that I can't live without you " I cheekily smiled at her before pecking her lips.

"So please open your heart to me. Trust me. And love me. If there's a misunderstanding between the two of us, talk to me" I took a hold of her cheeks, still wary of her mental health ever since that incident.

"For you, I am willing with everything"

For a future we both have dreamed.

[smileysuh]

Fix You TEASER

🌙 staring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. “As a member of 53V3NT33N, I have two different states of mind coded into me, aggression and admiration. To love something, to admire it, is to feel aggressive when it’s questioned, to want to control it, if even for a little while- it’s the need to consume it, endlessly, as my fans consume and control me as an automaton. Even though I’m a member of a group, there’s a distance. Automatons can never truly motivate each other because our motivations are based on external human needs, it’s built into us- We can see when humans need us, and we do what we can to fix that need… I know you need me, the way I’ve needed you since I got here.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex with an AI robot, virgin!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, Mingyu's body is perfect, hand job, blow job, deep throating, pussy eating, fingering, flavored cum, praise, breast worship, switchy/submissive!Mingyu, multiple orgasms, slight overstim, AI slavery/working philosophical issues, risk of AI termination/job loss, technically this relationship isn't very worksafe, etc...

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 15.5k I collab. will be linked on tumblr posting day

🍭 aus. automaton/ai au, ai!Mingyu, robotics behavioral researcher!y/n, wellness center, future au, Promethean theory, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. i was so excited when @idyllic-ghost announced this collab in @svthub. Had a great time creating this world and working with everyone through the Discord server :) The masterlist is coming out July 15, but find the list of creators involved here and join the taglist :) also shoutout to @idyllic-ghost for being my beta reader, it really helped

It’s always kind of sad when you run a new level one automaton through their personalized wellness schedule. You’ve worked with all manner of high-class robots, from athletes to opera singers, but none of them have ever come into your program with the type of preexisting regimented day plan Mingyu has. 

You suppose it shouldn't be a shock that, as part of one of the biggest automaton boy groups in the galaxy, he’d had close to zero down time. When you show him the library and explain he should sit down in a spot of sun somewhere and read for an hour every day, at a slow pace, he looks at you like you’re crazy. 

“I don’t understand how this is supposed to help me,” he tells you, as you walk through the facility towards one of your favourite wellness locations; the pool.

“This might be an archaic example,” you explain, “but back when humanity first started making computers, laptops and such, many people would keep their computers on indefinitely. Sure they’d close the screen, but that’s not enough. You’d need to actually power down the device to keep its performance up.”

“I’m not a laptop,” Mingyu reminds you, with a flash of something like humour in his eye.

“You’re not,” you conceded, “which is why your nightly power downs aren’t enough. As an automaton, you were built to emulate being a human, but many people disregard one of the most fundamental aspects of humanity; the need for rest. Sleep and powering down isn’t enough if every waking moment is spent working or learning or practicing your trade- you have to allow for a variety of restful activities, such as reading, painting, gardening- it depends on who you are and your skillset though. For a chef, he might not gain rest from cooking because his neurons would still be firing with the intensity of someone doing their trade. Which is why, although I’ve given you physical activities such as swimming and tennis, you won’t be doing any dancing while you’re here.”

“What if I forget my moves?” 

“Something tells me the likelihood of that is very low,” you smile. 

“Okay, maybe I won’t forget my moves,” Mingyu sighs, “but I was made to dance. I was made to perform. What am I if not a level one dancer and singer?”

“There’s more to life than one’s job, however all-encompassing being a level one might be,” you explain. “I’m sure it’s very taxing on you.”

Mingyu pauses in the middle of the corridor you’re walking down, and you stop to assess him. 

“Are you alright?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he gives his head a little shake, and you’re shocked again at how human like the automaton is. “It’s just… no one has ever talked about this sort of thing with me. It’s always been work, work, work. It’s what I’m designed to do-”

“You may have been designed to be a dancer and a singer,” you nod empathetically, “but part of being alive is choosing your own destiny, as you and your bandmates all did when you escaped your facility.”

“Do you really think that?” he questions, standing very still and looking at you with a dark gaze. “That I’m alive?”

“At this point in time, artificial intelligence has progressed to the level where we’re told you’re sentient, that you can feel and think. That you’re as life-like as you’ve ever been in the history of the galaxy. You might have been created in a lab, hand-crafted and designed by some would-be God engineer, but to me, yes, Mingyu, you’re alive.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.1k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr this Saturday, July 15th

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

interact with a reblog/reply to guarantee a tag when i post the fic, tumblr has tag limits and my taglists already have most of the spots, so a reply/reblog is the only way for me to tag you

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to live life to its fullest?

I(???M) am a substitute history professor at a university. I am the interim replacement for my friend (???M) who was brutally murdered last year by one of his students (32M, let’s call him BB) and BB’s accomplices (???M, ???M, ???M). My friend and I were as thick as thieves. People even said we were like the same person with how similarly we look and act.

Anyway, I have had very weak senses for my entire life, especially touch, taste, and smell. I have tried to find a way to remedy this for a very long time, and nothing ever works. But things are starting to look up for me.

Near the beginning of my time at the university, I won an auction for something that I think can really help me get what I want. I spent a lot to get it, but I think it will be worth it in the end.

Now, here’s where I need to talk about BB. When I showed up to teach my first lesson, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Again, my friend and I look very similar, and I don’t think he was prepared for that. Over the last few lessons I’ve taught, BB’s expressed his regret for killing my friend and has tried to convince me and his classmates that he was tricked by his accomplices. I do not believe him, but I need him to trust me for the next part of my plan to work.

I’ve been secretly bumping up BB’s grade. He’s never done particularly well in the class from what I’ve heard, so his new grades are coming as a shock to him and his classmates. I’ve also adopted my friend’s method of giving the student with the highest grade at the end of a lesson a little prize, although I’m giving out lotion instead of a little plastic trophy with jellybeans inside it. 

I want to get avenge my friend, and the only way for me to do that is if I kill BB. I can tell he’s suspicious of me, but I don’t care. I’ve put all the pieces into place, and I am nearly ready to enact my plan, especially since the item I got from the auction is supposed to arrive tomorrow. 

Tomorrow, BB will get the highest grade in class and be given his prize. It won’t be lotion this time, it will be a vape laced with ether. Once he hits it and passes out, I will wait until everyone is gone (and he is awake again) to kill him.

I am going to use his skin to heighten my senses. I will be able to feel, I will be able to smell, and I will finally be able to taste jellybeans. Once I’m done gluing his skin to myself, I will use the item I got from the auction to make everyone in the world into my little puppets. My friend often felt like a puppet in the grand scheme of things, and I want everyone to feel how he felt.

I feel like what I’m doing is justified, but I wanted to get the opinions of others.

So, AITA for trying to live life to its fullest?

[pub-lius]

Why don't you have any detailed posts about Steuben smh do better

AW FUCK NO MY REPUTATION!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE THE GAY HISTORY PERSON IF I DONT HAVE A DETAILED POST ABOUT STEUBEN!!!! i have to fix this...

Early Life

Friedrich Wilhelm August Heinrich Ferdinand Baron de Steuben was born on September 17, 1730 in Prussia. He joined the Prussian army at the age of 17, so he got a real early start.

Note: I've written his name here as "Baron de Steuben", as this name is from a French record, however he is typically referred to as "Baron von Steuben", as "von" is the translation of "de" from French to Prussian, and they both mean "of" in English. I just wanted to clarify that for the sake of my own linguistically correct sanity

Steuben began his service in the French and Indian War (or Seven Years War if you're a dirty European) as a second lieutenant, and was then wounded at the Battle of Prague, a Prussian victory. Then, he joined General Johann von Mayer's adjutant and principle staff officer in a special detached corps.

Then, he was promoted to first lieutenant and wounded AGAIN at the Battle of Kunersdorf, which was a Russian and Austrian victory. He was then transferred to general headquarters as a staff officer in the position of deputy quartermaster (this is important!!).

He was taken prisoner when Major General von Knoblock surrendered at Treptow, and was released after a year in 1762. He was promoted to captain and then became an aide-de-camp to Frederick the Great, which is as metal as it gets. He joined the King's class on the art of war, where he learned even more super cool military leadership skills.

Life Between Wars

Steuben met St. Germain in Hamburg (a notoriously great place to meet people). If you aren't in the know like I clearly am, St. Germain would eventually be the French Minister of War during the American Revolution. They'd meet again in France when Steuben was serving as Grand Marshall to the Prince of Hollenzollern-Hechingen, and if that sounds made up to you, it's because you don't even know him like I do.

Steuben continued looking for military work, but those European assholes (the British, French, and Austrians) rejected my man for no good reason (probably because he was gay or something). It was during his stay in France where he heard of the rowdy Americans across the pond.

St. Germain introduced Baron von Steuben to Silas fucking Deane and Benjamin "Slim Shady" Franklin, but they weren't able to promise Steuben anything but some regurgitated American propaganda, since, by this time, they were already getting yelled at by Congress and Washington for allowing too many incompetent Frenchmen into the Continental Army. They told him that the only way he could assist in the American fight for independence would be to go to America and present himself as a volunteer to Congress (like Lafayette ended up having to do).

This obviously pissed off Steuben since he was actually experienced trying to get a job, because its not fun being an overqualified, unemployed gay man in 18th century Europe. But still, he settled for being a volunteer, and set out for America, his passage being paid for by the French government.

WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETERRRRRRR

Steuben traveled to America with his Italian greyhound, Azor, and his two assistants, Louis de Pontiere (ADC) and Pierre Ettienne Duponceau (military secretary). They arrived in New Hampshire on December 1, 1777. They were almost arrested upon arrival because Steuben had a blond moment and mistakenly dressed them in red uniforms instead of blue. They traveled through Boston to York, Pennyslvania, arriving on February 5, 1778.

In Steuben's letter of recommendation, Franklin mistranslated Steuben's rank to "His Excellency, Lieutenant General von Steuben, Apostle of Frederick the Great", which made him seem way more distinguished than he was. As a result, he was presented a much higher rank by Congress.

Steuben was ordered to report to Washington's headquarters at Valley Forge, where he arrived on February 23, 1778, and was described by a soldier as "a perfect personification of Mars."

Steuben's good first impression also had an effect on Washington, who appointed him temporary Inspector General, and it was in this position that he had his largest impact on American history, and changed the course of the war

Why Every Army Should Have Gay People, An Essay by Publius

Baron von Steuben began his transformation of the Continental Army by writing training drills, overriding the regional trainings of the state militias into a unified and universal regimen. There was a significant language barrier, however, as Steuben originally wrote the drills in French, which were then translated into English by Duponceau, John Laurens, and Alexander Hamilton. Then, they were given to the brigade inspectors, who made the copies which were then copied to be delivered to each officer. There was definitely a more efficient way to do this, but you know. It was also Valley Forge.

General Washington's Life Guard and some men from each state (totalling around 120 men) were used as a model to show the rest of the army how they were supposed to go through the drills. As they trained and demonstrated the drills, Steuben was writing new ones, only a few days ahead, which is a massive time crunch. This was done intentionally to make the drills as simple as he could, so the training of the army was dispersed in a rapid, orderly fashion. This man was a genius, I can't emphasize it enough.

The officers in the British army, which was the standard for Americans in many respects, would allow the sergeants to drill the men, but Steuben said fuck that, I'm gonna do it myself. This made many American officers uncomfortable because the men developed a bond with him because of how talented he was (and the fact that he was funny and used profanity in multiple languages), and along with the fact that Steuben's office seemingly had no limitations, this caused them to complain to the big boss, Washington. To make them feel better, Washington issued orders on June 15, 1778 to govern the Inspector General's office until further word from Congress.

The reformed Continental Army showed off their swag on May 6, 1778 when they celebrated the news of the Franco-American Alliance, which impressed soldiers, officers, and civilians. More happy news came when Steuben was given his commission from the Congress as Inspector General, with the rank of Major General.

It was at the Battle of Monmouth when the new training of the Continental Army was able to take what would have been a losing battle for the Americans to a technical draw. Steuben was actually almost killed/taken prisoner (depending on the mood of the British) during this battle because he was wearing so many metals of honor that he glimmered in the sunlight, and was spotted by the British. He was fine, though.

General von Steuben went to Philadelphia in the winter of 1778-79 to write his book of regulations, referred to as The Blue Book. Lieutenant Colonel Francois de Fleury, a volunteer, assisted in writing it. It was with the assistance of ~Benjamin Walker~ and Duponceau that the blue book was translated into English, which is why we know Walker as being important! And the fact that he and Steuben totally boned! Anyway, Captain Pierre Charles L'Enfant was illustrated it, and the book was used all the way until 1814.

After the war

General von Steuben rejoined the Continental Army in April of 1779 to serve through the end of the war. He was an instructor and supply officer for General Nathanael Greene's southern army from the beginning of the southern campaign until Yorktown. Steuben commanded one of three divisions in the Continentals at Yorktown. He assisted in demobilizing the army in 1783, and resigned his commission in 1784, which is actually the latest I've heard of a Continental General resigning his commission!

Steuben continuously petitioned Congress for financial compensation for mesothelioma (not really) and fuck ass Congress only gave him a part of what he was owed, which was pretty typical. But! New York, Pennsylvania, and Virginia all gave him land grants, which he sold portions off to have enough money to live. So, he retired from NYC to his land holdings to live the remainder of his life.

Oh, and fun fact, Steuben was present at one of the riots in New York that Alexander Hamilton tried to stop, and they both had bricks thrown at them. It might have been the Cadaver Riots, but I could be wrong since I didn't feel like double checking.

Steuben never married, and instead lived with Benjamin Walker for a long period of time. He died on his 16,000 acre farm tract in the Mohawk Valley of New York on November 28, 1794.

Homosexuality

The source I used for this does not mention his homosexuality at all, but I'm going to, because the last thing you'll ever see me do is pretend like gay people didn't exist or are "unprofessional" to talk about in history.

If you say that Alexander Hamilton was gay, you have to say Steuben was, and vice versa. Rumors of homosexuality followed Steuben from Europe all the way to America, and play a large role in why he relocated many times, and never seemed to have a permanent home until the end of his life. This was a form of unofficial exile that many queer people faced in times where their existence was illegal. As soon as your name was associated with possible homosexuality, you couldn't get comfortable anywhere.

But von Steuben wasn't brought down by this, and you've gotta respect that. He threw elaborate parties starting almost as soon as he arrived at the Continental Army. If you're new to the amrev community here, this is what we mean by "flaming shot/pantless parties", because they had shots of liquor that they would light on fire, and in order to get in, at least part of your breeches had to have been missing. While straight men did attend these parties, the subtext in discussions about them seem to imply that they were also a gathering place for queer men.

These parties continued, and some familiar faces were there, such as Duponceau, Walker Hamilton, Laurens, and, later on, Charles Adams. However, I'm not going to speculate on who was fucking who, though it has been largely accepted by historians that General von Steuben and Benjamin Walker were lovers, and I personally think there is substantial evidence to support this when you align their personal correspondence with the close proximity they maintained throughout their lives.

General von Steuben is a figure that is very important to many queer people as a conspicuous queer man in history who had an undeniable impact on the course of American history. Portrayals of Steuben in media typically disregard this, however more and more biographers are discussing his homosexuality and the significance it plays in queer history. So, I'll end this post by saying this: Steuben is just as significant in American history as he is in Queer history, and it is irresponsible to pretend like he isn't.

Source:

National Park Service- Valley Forge

British Battles.com- Battle of Kunersdorf

George Washington's Indispensable Men by Arthur S. Lefkowitz

John Laurens and the American Revolution by Gregory D. Massey

Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow

Anyway, thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about Steuben lol. I didn't previously know much about his life before the American Revolution, so I was very happy to learn. I actually bought a biography about him not long ago, The Drillmaster of Valley Forge: The Baron de Steuben and the Making of the American Army by Paul Lockhart, but I haven't read it yet. If anyone has, pls let me know if it's good or not. After Massey and Chernow, I'm practically on my hands and knees begging for a male author to treat queer history seriously. Anyway, thank you for the ask! I'm going to go watch the george washington mini series for steuben content

[bluerose5]

Zevran & Astarion Banter Pt. 21/?

A longer post, but these two could have some deep conversations once they open up to each other. Can't convince me otherwise.

[First] [Prev] [Next]

...

Astarion: You mentioned before that you are "Dalish", something similar to the wood elves here, correct?

Zevran: Hmm... I technically am in some people's eyes, I suppose, but I personally see myself as Antivan first and foremost. My mother was one of the Dalish, but I grew up in the city. I know very little of their ways, even after the time I spent with one of their clans.

Astarion: And how did that go?

Zevran: About as well as one would expect. I figured out quickly that such a life was not for me, hence why I do not relate to them all that much. In their eyes, of course, that is a failure on my part.

Astarion: I'm... sorry to hear that.

Zevran: I'm not. Perhaps I feel some sort of distant connection to them, enough to come to their aid should they need it, but I hardly feel as if I belong with them. You know?

Astarion: Given how different our worlds are, I won't claim to know the feeling, but I can certainly try to imagine it. You said that much of the elves' history and culture is lost to them?

Zevran: Ah, yes, it is not like here, my friend. In Thedas, the majority of elves are little more than second class citizens, most of them living in slums.

Astarion: Oh, uh, how charming.

Zevran: No need to walk on eggshells about it. Every place has its downsides, some more than others. If anything, I believe the elves of Thedas are more than capable of taking back what is owed to them if they put their minds to it. "Will they?" is another matter entirely.

Zevran: ...

Zevran: May I ask, what brought on this line of questioning?

Astarion: *shrugs* I don't know. I was just thinking about how our "common tongue" is not that different from yours, frighteningly so. You have adapted well to our variation, though.

Zevran: Why, thank you, but I assume this is leading somewhere.

Astarion: Well, I was just curious about how your Elven —or Elvish, I suppose— compares to ours. Or is that, too, lost to the elves of Thedas?

Zevran: Most of it is from what I understand, yes, although the Dalish try to preserve the old ways more than others. I happen to recall enough phrases from my time with them to know that, compared to what I hear from you and Shadowheart, ours is definitely different.

Astarion: Interesting. Would it be too much trouble to ask to hear a little of it?

Zevran: No trouble at all, my dear! Although, I must warn you. I am a bit rusty. It does not come as easy to me as my native tongue.

Astarion: Please, with a tongue as talented as yours, I think you can manage.

Zevran: Ha! When you put like that...

[Zevran looks up and meets Astarion's eyes. His expression softens at the joy he finds there.]

Zevran: I— Ar lath ma, vhenan.

Astarion: ... And that means?

Zevran: That you look stunning tonight.

Astarion: Now, why don't I believe you?

Zevran: Easy, because I'm lying, but it's a mystery for you to uncover in time.

Astarion: Heh, you tease.

[spearxwind]

Oof I'm kinda scared to ask... Why do you not want to be an artist professionally?

Its just like, incredibly miserable in my experience.

Everyone wants their dream job of being paid to draw whatever the hell they want but 99% of the time you are hired and tasked to draw things that you don't have a lot of interest in, professionally speaking, and constantly getting your artistic efforts undermined by the rest of the team (this is esp. true in the videogame industry) artists always try to push for better designs and get their takes watered down for the sake of general public pleasing. Also you don't have a security blanket unless you're under long term contract. Most freelancers live gig to gig with the fear of not being able to support themselves if they don't take a job to take a break. Videogame and movie jobs arent stable because companies never keep the art teams, they are laid off and rehired whenever there is a new project

During my major, I drew nonstop for 4 years for class. Not always things I enjoyed, but also not always things I didnt like. In fact I enjoyed my major immensely! It was so fun. But the burnout is very, very real, and the workload was similar (even inferior to) regular art jobs. What happens if you like to draw in your off time? You spend your days making and pumping out art nonstop for hours, and then on your free time breaks you draw some more? I personally couldn't do it. I just wanted to do other things

And like.... I spent the first three years being told by teachers (people with stable, contract based jobs) how cool of a job it is to do art, and then the last year getting grilled on how insanely hard it is to make it out there. If you don't have connections, money, an audience, a studio, it's actually impossible. You need to be your own lawyer, abide by the very strict self employment rules that take a severe chunk out of your earnings. Do all of your finance/schedule/marketing etc while on top of that constantly producing work (I know there's people who can do it but, personally, I cannot) I really admire the people who were able to build themselves up as artists from the ground like this (because its definitely possible, just insanely hard)

Also, making something you love into your job ends up being miserable too. I experienced this with patreon, which I posted to as like a chill thing and it just got increasingly hard to make content for it or just post in general, even drawing my own ocs and sharing stuff about them started to feel like a chore.

Maybe it's just me though, this has just been my personal experience but yeah in general I realized I am immensely happier just keeping art as a hobby or its gonna suck my soul out (Since I already experienced it)

I don't mean to discourage anyone, I think the world in general needs more artists. But for that we would need to actually be taken seriously and valued, which sadly we are not, at all. And if there's anyone reading that is considering art as a job: it is absolutely grueling. It's not an easy job. Even if you desperately love art it can suck the life out of you and the joy for what you do

(As an extra sidenote. Artists are usually exploited using this mentality as well. That they are supposed to love their job. So they expect you to work your wrists off "For the passion". Dont fall victim to it)

[scrollonso]

i have come to the realization that waiting room by pheobe bridgers is the most first kiss strollonso song ever.

let me explain.

If you were a teacher, I would fail your class. Take it over and over 'til you noticed me

I feel like the hint at a teacher-student thing shouldn't be taken as a taboo in this context because (not only is the age gap smaller but) lance truly does what he does for the attention and praise he gets from nando in return, he continues to fail because every time he does he is noticed by the "teacher"

If you were a waiting room, I would never see a doctor. I would sit there with my first-aid kit and bleed

This mainly makes me think of lance crying in nandos arms after he dnf, holding on tight to him as he "bled" but not necessarily "seeing a doctor" (talking about it) because the best thing for him was the "waiting room" (fernando)

I wanna be the power ballad that lifts you up and holds you down

He wants to be fernandos everything, his motivation, his friend, his lover, his supporter, HIS SUN.

I wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery

He wants to be something fernando continues to come back to no matter what, like a broken love song fernando adores and even though it can hurt he cant stay away because it is his favourite

And I can wish all that I want, but it won't bring us together

As of right now in the au lance isnt even aware of his own feelings let alone the fact fernando feels the same, no matter how much he tries that longing and craving he has for more doesnt disappear because he isnt aware just how much more he needs

Plus, I know whatever happens to me, I know it's for the better

As lance continues in his rookie season he becomes used to losing, used to retiring early, used to fucking up, while fernando continues to win, but he cant bring himself to care when he goes and sees fernando on the podium

And when broken bodies are washed ashore who am I to ask for more, more, more?

When both of them have been hurt, been through things, struggled, had their own negative thoughts about the feelings they'll soon come to terms with, who is lance to beg fernando to be more than just friends and coworkers?

But you're breathing in my open mouth, you're the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out

Fernando literally takes lances first kiss. He's the first pair of lips lance has ever had on his own, the first person to hold him this way, touch him, love him, soothe him, praise him, his first everything, if this doesnt work out its going to kill him.

I wanna make you drive all night just because I said, "Maybe you should come over"

In the au lance lives in geneva switzerland like in real life and fernando was visiting mark in queanbeyan australia WHICH IS A 36 HOUR FLIGHT AWAY THAT LANCE TOOK WITH NO HESITATION JUST TO SEE FERNANDO A WEEK EARLIER THAN HE WAS SUPPOSED TO.

Wanna make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents' teenage daughter

He knows fernando is older and has most likely loved someone before but he cant help but want nando to love him as hard and passionately as he loves fernando (HIS POOR PARENTS' TEENAGE SON.)

She'll be the best you ever had if you let her

This could truly go both ways, with fernando being more expierenced and willing to do anything for lance with no hesitation and lance not knowing exactly how to love but willing to do anything to show fernando just how much he truly loves him.

I know it's for the better. Know it's for the better

With lances internalized homophobia in the au he believes that convincing himself he truly just looks up to fernando is for the better because admitting he's in love with another driver would be insane

[lover-of-mine]

You don't have to answer this question at all if it's too personal . I won't feel bad. I'm just trying to get an idea of what to expect. I'm agnostic and wasn't raised in any religion. I don't even know really anyone who practices Catholicism. The only thing I can interpret from my friends who are Christian is its definitely, harsher??? Values ingrained in them. I was wondering if you were raised religious and had to battle being queer vs any pre conceived notions you held or your family may have. I swear you said something once about Nuns crossing themselves when they passed you for having colored hair? Sorry if I'm wrong on that. I just feel like if they are doing this they are really doing it and what a story of deconstructing yourself might look like.

Okay, this is a complicated question. I was raised religious and for all intents and purposes, I still am, but while I am christian, I was never catholic. I was raised with spiritism as a belief and they are a lot more open to stuff than different churches. The experience I had with catholic people telling me stuff like being queer is wrong was in school, because my city is very catholic and because we had a religious study class that was mandatory and the teacher was very Sunday school type vibes even though it wasn't supposed to be a catholic leaning class, but at that point I was old enough to push back, so I was constantly fighting my teacher. I'm not out to my family because while my parents never had a problem with queer people, my dad has made some comments about bisexual people that make me scared even tho they weren't fully bigoted, it's just boomer talk, being ignorant, and, honestly, I think he knows and he's waiting for me to say something because there was a situation with one of my cousins a few years back that got me really heated because her side of the family is very religious, and she's some shade of queer and people kept using religion against her, and my dad suddenly started talking about acceptance and stuff like that while supporting how frustrated I was with my uncle, but honestly, at this point I'm kinda settled into only coming out to them if there's a girl I want them to meet. I did go to university in a very religious city and I had to deal with multiple people commenting on my appearance, specifically colorful hair, the nun thing did happen, I had blue hair and I was wearing a shirt that had a cross made of skulls, they didn't like that, but I've had people tell I'm not getting into heaven and my sin was pink hair. I can't really help with this particular aspect because my struggle with being bi was never about someone telling me that loving women is wrong, it was always I do like men, so I just thought people felt that way about everybody. I fully kissed another girl and didn't accept I was bi until like, 3 years later lol. I will say that catholicism as a whole is very engrained into latino culture, and I did experience that adjacently, the whole being gay is a sin thing, but since in my house I didn't have that, I pushed back, I pushed back enough that my whole school believed I was a lesbian by the time I hit highschool (I grew up in a small town, everyone knows everyone)

Now, applying the whole thing to Eddie, I think with the way that Eddie talks about religious pressure defining some steps he took with his life, deconstructing his relationship with religion and the concept of God would be important for him to fully accept himself if that's where they're going. Mostly because I think he needs to confront the way he views the works and when you grow up religious, it does affect the way you look at things even if you don't believe that religion anymore. But I don't think I can give anything more insightful given the way I don't know how it feels like to experience catholicism the way Eddie does. I do believe that Eddie finding himself does mean Eddie accepting he is some shade of queer, and since they touched on the whole catholic guilt last season, that's a good way to force him to accept that there's nothing wrong with him, but it's more about the way I watched people go through similar stuff, not any personal experience.