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#this is a painting over a screenshot i found

serene-sky-kid · 1 month

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Too weak to reach, too silent to be heard, butterflies do not help those who cannot sing

But you all exist to help others so it was only a matter of time before you were found

I wonder what he saw in you at that time...

Moth Serene and her adoptive father/veteran I wanted to get this idea out of my head, I'm not really that good at making scenery, I just painted over screenshots to make my job of creating an environment easier.

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #sky cotl art #sky cotl oc #skykid #sky: cotl #sky: children of the light #sky cotl fanart

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twelve-forfend · 5 months

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Well, I did say this was a multi-fandom blog... Alright, let's do this.

The Qing Jing Peak Lord's Bamboo House

(and the symbolism therein, as recorded in the donghua)

I was snooping through the establishing shots of the Qing Jing Peak Lord's Bamboo House, and had to laugh as I always do at all the gay symbolism that managed to sneak its way inside. But then I looked a little closer, and was floored by just how much passive storytelling was packed into background assets. I talked about it at length over discord, and at the urging of others decided to make a shareable post on social media as well.

First, the shots which first piqued my interest in this topic years ago:

Shen Yuan transmigrates into the stallion-genre webnovel entitled 狂傲仙魔途 (translated as Proud Immortal Demon Way). The author's and his own usernames are dick jokes.

Notice the chrysanthemum vase, the cock vase, and the stallion statuette.

The stallion and cock are obvious nods to these jokes on their own, but for the uninitiated, the chrysanthemum is a symbol of gay sex between men, as the asshole itself is often euphemistically referred to as a chrysanthemum. This should have been Shen Yuan's first clue that not all is as it seems here! These are the personal quarters of Shen Jiu — the original Shen Qingqiu!

But let's move to the main room you first walk into upon entering the bamboo house.

There it is: the writing on the wall.

As the Peak Lord of strategy and the scholarly arts, Shen Qingqiu would naturally have calligraphy and paintings hanging everywhere! So let's break it down.

On the top we have 道㳒自然 ("Dao Follows Nature"), which comes from a Dao teaching by Laozi (founder of Daoism) meaning that life, death, the entire universe, the heavens and earth and everything outside and inbetween, all follow a set of laws referred to as the nature of things. Although unrelated to the Buddhist couplet below, it's certainly relevant!

Originally hanging in right-to-left order, I've arranged them to read left to right here to make things easier to keep track of. The calligraphy reads 西方竹葉千年翠；南海蓮九品香 and is a couplet commonly found in Guanyin temples. My classical chinese is not as strong as I'd like, but this translates roughly to "The bamboo leaves in Paradise are green for a thousand years / The fragrance of lotus flowers in the South China Sea is as thick as 9 sticks of incense."

The character 西 for West is used to denote the destination of enlightenment/purity: the buddhist Paradise (think Journey to the West). The South China Sea is where Guanyin was born. Upon the Lotus flowers is where Guanyin is commonly depicted as sitting. The "9 sticks of incense" though literal can also refer to the 9 tiers/grades of reincarnation lotuses with the 9th tier being the lowest, meant for those who in life committed the most evil of crimes — the 4 parajikas — and who can only manage a sincere Amitabha recitation 10 times and no more than this.

To put this in context with Shen Jiu (the same jiu as in 9/九), the 4 parajikas committed by the 9th Tier Lotuses Reborn (officially entitled the Lowest of the Low) are:

Sexual Intercourse

Stealing

Murder

Claiming attainments of stages of pure mental concentration that have not been achieved (in other words, rushing or lying about your cultivation/enlightenment, or maybe even becoming a Peak Lord without having formed a golden core beforehand).

From what we know in the context of the novel, Shen Jiu is innocent of at least the first of this parajikas, but the overall view of Shen Jiu in the eyes of others in the story is that he is guilty of them all. This calligraphy can be seen as a condemnation or a reminder for the character Shen Jiu, who even as the Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu is widely thought of as a scum villain and the lowest of the low.

Phew! That's a lot to unpack.

But if you turn your gaze to the original screenshot, you'll see to the right that there's a vase painted with a blue bird. This vase appears in several rooms of the bamboo house, and seems to be the image of a qingniao (青鸟; lit: Qing bird, wherein 青 can mean blue/green/clear-but-brackish black).

These qing-coloured birds are messengers and foragers of the Goddess-Mother of Paradise (Xiwang-mu 西王母, the "west/paradise" character from before, lit West-King(unisex)-Mother). They're a highly intelligent species who are exceptional in song (a good representative for Qing Jing's scholarly arts and pursuit of qin!), and the older ones might learn to speak human tongue. As a subspecies of luanniao (鸾鸟 lit: luan bird), they're thought to be related to The Phoenix and indeed thought to be the lifetime/samsara just before being reborn as a Phoenix.

If given to a "master" they don't like, the qingniao may refuse to pass messages or sing until they're set free, but if they do get along with you then they're loyal to the end.

As a point of interest, the Qing generation of Peak Lords uses the character 清, which is 青 ("colour of nature; brackish black, blue, green; young) + the radical for "water," resulting in the meaning of clear (as in water or heart; see-through); distinct; quiet (as in still); just and honest; pure; to settle or clear up; to clean up, expunge, or purge.

And as a bit of trivia, Liu Qingge's sword Cheng Luan 乘鸾 means "to ride the luan, take flight on the back of a luan." (Relevant, because the qingniao is considered a subspecies of luanniao).

With the Lords of both Qing Jing and Bai Zhan referencing this bird, I really wonder about its significance! It's spawning plenty of theories and headcanons for me.

Heading back outside for a moment, you'll find that in the Quiet Pool (清静小池 qingjing xiaochi (yes, the same Qing Jing the peak is named for)), there are lotuses, and on land there are flower shrubs which are either wide-petaled chrysanthemums (gay bottom jokes ahoy), or a type of peony, the king of flowers demarcating wealth and prosperity. Either way, a blossom fitting of our Qing Jing Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu!

My one regret is that I cannot get a clear shot of the fan hanging on the wall to try and translate the calligraphy on it. If anyone can snag one, please tag me! I also couldn't translate the paintings with poems hanging in Shen Qingqiu's bedroom (it's just too small and blurry for my bad eyes to make out). If I make another post attempting these things, I'll append them to this initial post in an edit afterwards.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #liu qingge #i started writing this at 3am #and now it's 8am #what am i doing with my life #who have i become #qing jing peak

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just-a-hooman64 · 9 months

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I ADORE environmental

details/storytelling

In the entrance of the pizza plex of RUIN, You can tell so many details about what type of people explored the pizzaplex before Cassie. To me at least, they truly feel like teenagers who may or may not spent time in the in-canon FNAF fandom (or that they're just realistically silly goobers)

This all comes from the graffiti of course, and the little marks people left around

"I Spent the night here and lived!!"

To me, this tells me that they are aware of the same "Five Nights at Freddy's = dying" correlation as we are (Thanks to Help Wanted making fnaf games canon in the fnaf universe). You cannot tell me that you wouldn't see this in real life if a fnaf attraction closed down.

"Tag Yourself"

A silly tag yourself chart. I can't tell what all the corners say, but I can read "Wizard" At the top most and "Filled with terror" on the right. The left hand side also says "Filled with" but the Vanny graffiti blocks it out. If someone knows what it says I'd love to know!

"Me"

The question is, does this have any significance for did a (maybe) Monty fan climb all the way up and spray paint the two letters green in dedication to their favourite animatronic

"do NOT eat the CHOWDA"

A reference to the code name for the RUIN Dlc. I wonder what was in the chowda...

"He was our superstar <3"

There are various instances which let us know that Freddy Fazbear is truly a beloved person in universe. The people adored him, and even after the plex closed down, the people sneaking in show their love and appreciation to the big bear <3

"they're still here"

Seems like someone encountered the animatronics and managed to live to tell the tale in yellow spray paint. Wonder how this person is doing.

"I miss fizzy faz :("

Apparently the pizzaplex is the only place where fizzy faz was sold. That or the company who made it broke ties with fazco and its out of production.

And finally

"Forever &Ever, Love Freddy"

It seems that those within the fazbear universe are just as interested in this phrase as many of us are. These words are found basically all over the pizzaplex, however I just have screenshots from the enterance. Seems like others had found their way into Bonnie's Green room and discovered the poster.

While some of these graffities may be referencing the Fazbear and Friends theme song, "Love" only shows up on that poster as far as I am aware.

This Is wonderful detailing to me, not only displaying how the outside world loved the Fazbear and Pizzaplex, but also enforces the importance of that poster and the words "You & Me Forever & Ever, Love, Freddy"

#I hope someone else finds this as interesting as I do #details in games are fantastic #fnaf #fnaf security breach #security breach #fnaf ruin #glamrock freddy #montgomery gator #roxanne wolf #Glamrock Chica #glamrock monty #glamrock animatronics #fnaf sb ruin

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yuri-is-online · 24 days

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Was Lilia more “Oh my thorn fairy I have another child?! I can barely cast a spell as of now and future me wants a fucking KID?! AT THAT AGE?!”

Or more of a

I HAVE ANOTHER SON?! AND IT’S FROM ME!?

If his Yutu tells him he comes from the future? Because it could imply he does regain his remaining years and magic. Idk how you wrote that problem that even rn it’s giving talk about Lilia surviving book 7 or not.

If it’s the second I already see him passing by Silver’s room really excited and saying “YOU HAVE A BROTHER!” And zooming off, leaving a very confused Silver and thinking he refers to either Malleus or Sebek.

technically anon asked first but this ask is much longer so it was awkward to screenshot for an answer. Here is the link the anon used for reference, I obligated as an elderly hater to let you know it's from SAO. Anon's idea is extremely good and we're going to roll with it for this Yutu's Uniqe Magic because you know he was always going to be a little shit.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. SPOILERS FOR: Book 7, Lilia's back story, and Silver's unique magic. Please engage with this in mind. For more fyuutre kid au, please check out the series section of my masterlist.

I have a bit of difficult time writing for Lilia given how much older he is than the rest of the cast, so I tend to write his Yuu as being a bit older themselves. Maybe they had an extremely difficult childhood and connected with Lilia over their shared sense of robbed innocence. Whatever it was I think this Yuu has a bit of a fascination with creatures of the night and a lot of their weirdo reputation within their community comes from kids telling each other that Yuu and Yutu are vampires. That makes me tempted to say Lilia! Yutu's real name is Alucard or Sebastian, something vaguely vampire themed.

None of those rumors are helped by Yutu finding himself very lethargic when out in the sunlight or his preference for colder temperatures. From his perspective he can't exactly help being who he is, people should really just get over themselves and let him do his thing. It's not his fault that bats really seem to like him for some reason, the neighbors are exaggerating Mr. Animal Control officer he swears.

Because he prefers to spend his awake hours in the dark, he is waaaaay too comfortable doing things and going places he shouldn't. He's real familiar with all the abandoned buildings and sketchy alleys of your town and has tagged quite a few of them. I like the idea of Lilia! Yutu being really interested in street art and Graffiti. I could see him putting up a bunch of bats everywhere and getting in a bunch of trouble for it. He has very fond memories of Yuu letting him paint murals on portions of their house in an effort to meet him halfway. He might like a good prank but unlike his father Yutu is always pulling his punches with Yuu.

Lilia didn't exactly have a supportive parent while he was growing up, something I feel like Yuu remembers and is very conscious of in their parenting of Yutu. Unfortunately for Lilia they also remember that he had another child and was a lot older than them, something Yutu raises several eyebrows at and causes him to ignore the things Yuu tries to tell him about his "great sense of humor" and "desire for different peoples to learn and grow with one another-" yeah that's great can you back up a bit to where you said he had another family? Yutu goes through life thinking he was the product of an affair Yuu had with a much older, married man who was just trying to feel young again. The amnesia stuff... sometimes he wonders if his dad tried to have Yuu killed. He never says it out loud because something tells him he's wrong, but gut feelings aren't as trustworthy as statistics...

So you can imagine his surprise when he tumbles out of a coffin and is told that his dad was a faerie general bound in service to a family of dragons, veteran of an ancient war, and technically the adoptive father of the Prince of the children of the night and the Prince of the rival human kingdom that killed his best friends. One of which is alive and overwhelmed with joy to meet him. Silver wanted Yutu almost as badly as Lilia and Yuu did so to see him alive and awkwardly squirming in his arms? Silver hasn't cried this much since they lost Lilia and Malleus.

Having a proper older brother, not just the concept, is an extreme change for Yutu. He's used to it just being him and Yuu, and he was sort of expecting Silver to hate him just for existing. Nothing could be further from the truth, Silver wants his younger brother to have the same freedoms he did while attending school but he also respectfully requests that Yutu spend at least some of his free time with him. He tried desperately to find his dreams over the years and was never able to make firm contact, but he doesn't want to pressure Yutu into caring about him. Yutu is didn't realize how badly he wanted other family members until he got to have Silver, he's even willing to take up sword fighting so they can get closer.

Sebek is also overwhelmed with tears upon seeing Lilia! Yutu. He is a bit harsh on him for "not living up to Master Lilia's legacy" because he doesn't know anything about fighting. He does applaud him for his willingness to learn. Yutu thinks Sebek is hilarious and messes with him just as much as Lilia does. Something Sebek is completely willing to let him do because it makes him feel like Lilia never left.

All of the Yutus get to see some of the photographs Yuu left behind, but Lilia! Yutu is especially interested in them. He makes a small photo album of all the ones he can find of his dad, especially ones where he's with Yuu and Silver. He's partially driven by guilt for thinking his father was a terrible person, but really he just wants to feel closer to him. He's half fae, and sure he has Sebek to talk about that with but what he really needs is a connection with his father. Yutu doesn't really care about being a faerie. He just cares about his dad's acceptance, everything else can go hang.

I don't have a name for his unique magic, but going off of anon's idea it allows him to overwhelm his target's mind, forcing them to think about their greatest fears to the point they are convinced they are really going through it. Someone hates spider? All over their face and in their clothes. Crippling fear of failure? Suddenly that emotion is all they can focus on. And if it's a mindless creature like a blot phantom or a monster they become overwhelmed with the sensation that they are unable to breathe and about to die. Yutu can't control the illusion the person experiences so usually he tries not to use it on his classmates.

That changes when he goes into the past. Some rando want to shit talk Yuu? Nightmare. Macho NRC guy wants to rumble? Nightmare. Some random guy jumped out from behind him and yells "BOO!" Nightma-

If Yutu had been just a hair slower he would have been in extreme pain, the dangerous glint in those familiar ruby eyes scream that. The short fae smiles almost cruelly, advancing on him clearly upset even though Yutu has dropped the spell.

"Well now, that's no way to great a senior." Lilia's voice is strangely soothing, it occurs to Yutu that this is probably the first time his father has ever been angry at him and he can't help himself. He laughs,

"Yeah sorry about that." He makes sure to try and be cute about it, which helps to diffuse the tension some what. "You really scared me so it was all I could think to do."

Lilia is very impressed by Yutu's reflexes and control over his unique magic. He is even further impressed by how eager Yutu is to train with Silver. The kid has some real promise and fits into Silver and Sebek's dynamic better than Lilia could have dreamed of. He really hopes the two will benefit from having a relatively normal human friend their age to train with. Maybe he and Yuu will stick around and give him some piece of mind about the kids being in good hands when he's gone.

Yutu hanging around Diasomnia gives him an excuse to chat with Yuu more, not that he exactly needed it. Lilia sort of hates the way he's drawn to you, it feels unfair. Unfair to you to give you hope there could be something more and toy with your affections; unfair to him for life to finally allow him to realize what romantic love is like just in time to have to let it go. There is a bittersweet tone to all of your interactions that his housemates are a bit too socially awkward to pick up on but Cater does.

Yutu is surprised how much he likes Cater, he associates him with a terrifying monster he's had to fight multiple times, not a fun guy who is really determined to help his parents get together. And what's even better he's really chill when Yutu asks for stories about Lilia, he has a lot of them and a completely different perspective than his older brother allowing Yutu to glean some more insight to what his parents might have been thinking in the future.

He finds himself spending a lot of time with the pop music club, not as an official member though he's not great at carrying a tune. Kalim, Cater, and Lilia are glad to have another person to chill with, sometimes they'll play music and Yutu will draw something based off whatever noise they made. Cater wants to talk him into doing album art for them... you know if they ever get around to making a recording.

I think Yutu will only tell Lilia who he is if he has no choice. He wants to mess with the timeline as little as possible, but should a monster from his timeline appear in this one, say like an overblotted Yuu another asker was so nice as to bring up, well it's not like he says who he is. He just addresses the monster as his parent and has a very loud meltdown not wanting to fight them again. Something Malleus is more than willing to assist him with.

"Think nothing of it." Malleus's power is truly terrifying, Yutu is torn between sorrow that he wasn't on their side and relief he didn't overblot a second time. "You are Lilia's son yes? That makes you my subject, and a most precious one at that." Not that Yutu has avoided interacting with Malleus exactly, he's just found talking to him exceptionally awkward because well. He's not Yuu, he's very aware of how important Malleus is supposed to be. But the way he's looking at him now makes him think that maybe he was missing out on interacting with another older brother.

Something that's confirmed when he turns to see how big his father's eyes have gotten, the man is shaking as he stares at his face and flicks between him, Malleus, and Silver like he's staring at the most precious pieces of art in the whole universe.

As you brought up Lilia's survival isn't guaranteed, I did not solve that problem at all. I sort of just... wrote that Lilia would age more or less like a normal human and not really be able to use magic on par with what a fae would consider normal but would still be impressive to a human... so while Lilia might be a bit reluctant to show his face in Briar Valley he would still have enough years to have and raise Yutu. He might have actually died around the same time as Yuu if they had lived a normal life.

He is overwhelmingly excited at the thought of having another baby. Lilia might not know what to do with them but he does really like kids. What's harder for him to accept is his relationship with Yuu. Raising a child is something he's done before, being someone's long term partner is not. He is unused to feeling desirable, and unfamiliar with acting on his own desires. Sure Lilia might seem very free spirited, but much of his life has been dictated by a sense of duty. The thought of having something precious to him that chose him specifically of their own free will is... disarming. He's overwhelmed with how helpless you make him feel and how little he despises it.

Yutu's need to be accepted by his father is met and exceeded almost immediately. Lilia wants to cook a big family dinner for Yuu and all of his boys, something that Malleus politely rejects asking if he can instead show his Culinary Crucible skills off to Yutu (it's really so he can make babiest brother promise to never eat anything Paw Paw makes EVER) and it's all so normal Yutu almost forgets that he's listening to a practical god smugly tell him he knows all about edible weeds as his father flies around him cracking jokes and pinching his cheeks. His older brother is asleep on the couch waiting for the food to be done and his precious parent is helping his Uncle Sebek set the table, listening to him sniffle about how beautiful Master Lilia's family is.

Lilia might be practically retired, but his mind is still sharp. The information Yutu is able to pass on to him lands in good hands. When he tucks Yutu into bed that night, long after the boy has gone to sleep so as not to embarrass him he makes sure to take a good long look at the little miracle. He is beyond grateful Yutu exists, not even the Thorn Fairy could have given him a finer blessing (he'll have to make sure to tease you about that later, that's got to be a good pick up line) He will make sure that this risk his son has taken pays off, Lilia Vanrouge wasn't feared for no reason. Something it seems some foolish mortals need reminding of.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #future kid au #i believe in big brother malleus supremacy #he wants to be called older brother but refuses to ask since that would be undignified #but if yutu calls him that he gets so excited the tail comes out and starts wagging

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mcx7demonbros · 13 days

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All Catholic References with Sunday (that I could find)

Well, for starter, I found lots of Catholic references with Sunday, and by extension, some elements in Penacony and even Xipe the Harmony. I feel like I have to write this down and post this. It's the reason this post exists.

Warning, this post will have extensive Bible quotes and religious references. If you are uncomfortable, please ignore this post.

Also, because I could only play the story only once and cannot go back to re-read the story, there will not be screenshots to everything.

Finally, spoilers of the newest Penacony trailblaze quest ofc

1. The name

Sunday's name is Sunday, and as you know, this is the day that is dedicated to God and most Christian (including Catholics) go to church to worship God. Sunday, right before he called upon the machine that he rode to become the weekly boss for the first time, he called it "Dominicus". This comes from the Latin word for Sunday "dominica", which means "the Lord's day". "Dominica" itself came from "Dominum, which means "Lord" or "the Lord". Even though the data bank calls the boss "Harmonious Choir" the Great Septimus, the detailed description of the boss still says "Dominicus".

If you search on the internet, you may find that the Latin word for Sunday is dies solis (which means the day of the sun). But that word was used in the pre-Christian era. Dies solis was changed to dominica after Christianity became the state religion of the Roman Empire in the 4th century. Till this day, English and other Germanic languages still call the first day of the week "day of the sun" in their respective languages, while other Romance/Latin languages call the first day of the week "the Lord's day", such as Portugese - domingo, Spanish - domingo, Italian - domenica, French - dimanche, etc.

2. Sunday's physical angelic features

Sunday was born a Halovian, a species in Star Rail universe well-known by their angelic iconography, having "halos" over their heads and white wings on the back of their heads. Although currently, only Sunday and Robin are shown to have wings, while other Halovian NPCs don't have them.

3. Confession

This one, I believe, is quite obvious, with Sunday acts like a priest hearing confessions of the people who came to him for guidance and a free-from-guilt conscience in what seems to be a confession booth.

4. "The creation of Adam"

Remember the cutscene with the boss in 3rd phrase reaching out the hand and touches another hand coming down from the sky.

It''s inspired by this

"The Creation of Adam" or "The Creation of Man" is a fresco painting by Michelangelo for the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in early 16th century. This painting depicts God outstretching his right hand and finger towards Adam, the first man. This is mirrored and reversed by Sunday outstretching his right hand and finger from below toward the hand appearing from the sky. It is mirrored because in the original fresco, it is God reaching out for human with his right hand and Adam reaching out with his left hand, while in the game, the mysterious hand is a left hand while Sunday reaches out with his right hand. It is reverse because in the fresco, it is God who reaches out for human, while in the game, it is Sunday, a mortal, reaching up for the deity. However, we still don't know to whom that hand in the cutscene belong, I have compared that hand with both Xipe's and Ena's in their models, and it doesn't seem to belong to either of them, although the hand looks more like Xipe's than Ena's.

5. And on the eighth day

"And on the eighth day" is the name of the last quest of the trailblaze mission/main story quest chain of Penacony that was released in version 2.2.

In the quest, we hear Sunday telling us what Ena the Order did within the first seven days of Their existence. This is based on the narrative in the first chapter of Genesis, the first book of the Bible, God created everything in six days and He rested on the seventh day. If you have done the side quest to find clues about Sunday's whereabouts for Robin, you will get a notebook with the account of what Ena did in the seven days, the notebook is also divided into numbered chapters and verses, like the Bible.

Now we come to "the eighth day". In the 3rd phrase of the boss fight, each time the boss's turn comes, it doesn't attack but count the 7 days with its turns, corresponding with the narrative of Ena's first 7 days. And even on the 7th turn, the boss doesn't attack. It attacks on its next/8th turn after the cutscene, representing the eighth day.

Now in Catholicism, the day that Jesus rose from the dead is Sunday, the first day of the week. But Sunday is after the seventh day of the week, Saturday, so it's also called the eighth day.

"The eighth day, that is, the first day after the Sabbath [loosely corresponding to Saturday], was to be that on which the Lord should rise again, and should quicken us, and give us circumcision of the spirit." St. Cyprian of Carthage

"God brought it about that Christ’s body rested from all His works on the Sabbath in the tomb, and that He rose from the dead on the third day, which we call the Lord’s Day, the day after the Sabbath, and therefore the eighth day." St. Augustine of Hippo

6. Penacony's Phonograph soundtracks

I said that I also found some religious elements with Penacony. And I found those references with many of Penacony's phonograph soundtracks.

City Upon a Hill - the name is deprived from Jesus's words in Sermon on the Mount. You are the light of the world. A city seated on a mountain cannot be hid. (Matthew 5:14)

The Strength of Sin is the Law and The Sting of Death is Sin - now both of these came from the words of St. Paul the Apostle in his first Epistle (letter) to the Corinthians in the Bible, words for words. The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. (1 Cor. 15:56)

Infirma Nostri Corporis - this is a phrase from traditional Catholic hymn Veni Creator Spiritus - Come, Holy Spirit, Creator. The phrase is an invocation of the Holy Spirit to strengthen our mortal body full of frailty and weaknesses.

Requiem Aeternam - eternal rest, this is a introit (hymn that is sung when the priest enters the church at the beginning of Mass). This introit is used at a Requiem Mass or Mass for the deceased or funeral Mass, a prayer to ask God to grand eternal rest to the deceased. Mozart wrote his own Requiem, which I believe to be the direct inspiration for this soundtrack and the next four. That means the original Catholic hymns are indirect inspirations.

Confutatis - confusion, this is a part of Sequence Dies Irae (Day of Wrath), which tells us about the Last Judgement. Confusion here means the confusion of the reprobate if you want the full context of this particular phrase. Also a part of Mozart's Requiem Mass.

Hosanna in Excelsis - Hosanna in the highest (hosanna is a word that expresses adoration, joy and praise). This originally came from the words of the crowd when they acclaimed Jesus at his Entrance into the city of Jerusalem. (Matt. 21:1-11; Mark 11:1-11; Luke 19:28-44; John 12:12-19). This was later incorporated into the praise Sanctus, which is sung at every Mass. Being an ordinary part of the Mass, the Sanctus is also a part of Mozart's Requiem.

Agnus Aeon - Lamb of Aeon, this is inspired by Agnus Dei - Lamb of God, another hymn that is present at every Mass. The hymn itself was inspired from the Bible, when St. John the Baptist called Jesus "the Lamb of God" (John 1:36). In Star Rail universe, when saying "god", the Aeons come to mind and the soundtrack's name was subsequently adopted to fit in the story. Also a part of Mozart's Requiem, same case with Sanctus.

Lux Aeterna - eternal light, the name comes from the hymn that is sung at the end of the Requiem Mass. The whole context is a prayer to God to let eternal light shine upon the departed.

7. Xipe - the Triple-Faced Soul

One of Xipe the Harmony's titles is the Triple-Faced Soul, and you can see They have three faces (or heads?) from Their model. They are also called "thousand faces", but here I'll be discussing the Triple-Faced only.

Now Xipe's three faces reminds me of the Holy Trinity, especially the depiction of the Trinity as Trifacial.

This kind of depiction of the Holy Trinity is not allowed anymore after the 1628 ban of Pope Urban VIII, who feared the depiction could make the people confused about the doctrine of the Trinity.

While the Trinity in Christianity is Three Distinct Persons but one God, one Divinity, Xipe is one person with three faces as symbolism.

I do know that gods in Hinduism have multiple heads, but I have only seen gods with 4 heads, 5 heads or even 8 heads. The only time I see a three-head god is when they depict Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva together as the Trimurti.

Well, those are all the Catholic references I could find and remember. Feel free to tell me if I missed something :3

#honkai star rail #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #penacony #hsr xipe

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ot3 · 4 months

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Hi, I just finished the AA trilogy with my bf and we fell in love with it! I found your blog the other day, and it sometimes feels like you're the only one giving correct takes on these characters' writing and the minutiae of everyone's inner worlds (or the fumbling of, see Godot).

I just got here, but, something that's been bothering me about the fandom's approach to the sequel trilogy is like... the imperialist undertones are glossed over, or swept under the rug. Researching "The Dark Age of the Law" and beyond puts a sour taste in my mouth. And with Khura'in the country vs Kurain the village? It all feels racist at best (the concept of the Divination Seance gives me squick). If you have the time, I'd love to hear your thoughts about AA5 and AA6 in relation to the world of AA as a whole. Thanks again for all of your thoughtful and nuanced takes on this series!

so glad to hear you guys liked the games!! thank you for enjoying my posts, i always appreciate it.

the tl;dr of it is that i do think they are genuinely bad enough additions to the franchise that they have signed mainline ace attorney's death warrant. picking out the dark age of the law stuff and aa5 and the imperialism in aa6 you've pretty much honed right in on my two biggest critiques

however i do want to say that although they're being bundled and sold as a 'second trilogy' that's not quite accurate either experientially when playing the games or from a development perspective. aa4 had scenario design/creative direction by series creator shu takumi, with the art director being kazuya nuri (responsible for character design for rise from the ashes in the series previous to this); aa5+6 was spearheaded by takeshi yamazaki, who had been with the franchise since its first game, with the slightly less tenured takuro fuse on art direction/character design. yamazaki and fuse are not without skill, but i think they're both significantly less skilled than takumi and nuri respectively and. it really shows.

pair that with the fact that aa5 and 6 fundamentally do not follow up on any of ace attorney 4's established characters or plots more than superficially, i don't think it's particularly useful to critique 4-5-6 as if they're a single body of work in the same way the trilogy is. apollo justice isn't a perfect* ace attorney game but it's a good one.

anyway i think buying into the 'dark age of the law' stuff in ace attorney 5 necessitates cheapening all of the events preceding it. the implication that 1. the law wasn't that bad before but it Is Now and 2. a single case was the tipping point for whether or not the entire legal system would be bad just ruins the times when ace attorney has managed to acknowledge corrupt systems as a massive source of problem for the everyman in the past

i think this screenshot from the dark age of the law wiki page says a lot:

For starters, that phoenix quote. He would not fucking say that. I don't think there has ever been a point during or leading up to phoenix's career where he thought the legal system had 'glory' he would then want to restore it to. you seem to get it so im not gonna harp on this too much on this but. jesus christ

then, then there's fact that even by stating the most basic details about the franchise's events undermines the whole premise. like okay notice that the corruption that happens during the trilogy/investigations spinoffs is coming from all of the actual agencies that represent law and order/the system: the prosecutors, the police, and the prosecutorial investigation committee. however in aa5 the thing they choose to paint as responsible for supposedly unprecedented levels of corruption in the legal system is defense attorneys resorting to more drastic means, and the general public; aka not the people who are responsible for upholding the legal system but the people who are victimized by it and in opposition to it.

i don't think this was an intentional choice as much as it's just sloppy, inconsiderate, and contrived writing.

aa6 is just flat out racist. 'imperalist undertones' is i would say the gentlest way you could phrase it. like. japanese characters going to a made up south asian country that needs to be taught how to govern itself to quash its internal rebellion is like. so high on the yikes meter.

making a bunch of fake 'ethnic sounding' nonsense names filled with apostrophes to make them into silly sounding english phrasing was a disastrously tone deaf thing for the localization to do. they're really unforgivable. the worst of it all is probably "Inga Karkhuul Haw'kohd Dis'nahm Bi'ahni Lawga Ormo Pohmpus Da'nit Ar'edi Iz Khura'in III" i'm unsure if the names are quite as offensive in the original japanese because i haven't looked too much into what they actually are and have a really limited knowledge of the language. but. this name in japanese is "インガ・カルクール・ククルーラ・ラルバン・ギジール・ホフダラン・マダラ・ヴィラ・ヤシマ・ジャクティエール・クライン３世" which is written in katakana. katakana is, in contrast to kanji and hiragana which are used for writing japanese, used to phoenetically transcribe foreign languages or to write loan words. so the foreign-ness of this character is being emphasized here in the original text as well.

the supposed cultural inferiority of the khurainese people is baked into the game at pretty much every level, down to the gags. khura'in has the 'plumed punisher' show, which is actively criticized by the characters in game for just being a cheap ripoff of the steel samurai. they don't even get to have their own tv.

i believe the reason the racism is pretty much glossed over a lot in the fandom is for several reasons. for starters, ace attorney fans overall tend to fall into three camps: 1. people like me who fucking hate these games, refuse to acknowledge them, and would retcon them out of existence if possible. 2. people who have found things they like about the game and have a Good Version of the characters and plots that they have constructed in their head and 3. people who view all of the hate on these games as completely overblown

the first camp Does talk about how the game is racist but we're all already in agreement about that so it's kind of preaching to the choir and a bit redundant to keep going on about. the second camp tends to acknowledge the stickier aspects of the game but focuses on making content around the elements they like rather than critique. the third camp is the type to throw the baby out with the bathwater re: critiquing a thing they like. it's all haterism to them. but either way i think its kind of fucked up how many people will be like 'aa6 isnt that bad you guys are just mean' without even acknowledging these complaints.

anyway the khura'in country vs kurain village thing is really weird to me it shows both a lack of imagination and a disregard for the series' own established lore. why would a girl from a village where almost everyone is a spirit medium need to go to a place where only, like, two people are mediums to train.

i will say though that the divination seance is kind of one of the only things i found about aa6 to be an interesting addition. for a franchise with ghost summoning and murder solving, the two have a kind of hilariously low amount of overlap so i found the idea of bringing ghost bullshit into court really fun. mechanically speaking, the divination seances also felt a LOT better to play than the mood matrix segments of aa5.

in general, i think the biggest weakness of the mainline franchise under takeshi yamazaki's stewardship is its misunderstanding of stakes. both aa5 and 6 prioritize more bombastic and impressive on paper material stakes. oh no! the ENTIRE JUSTICE SYSTEM BEING GOOD OR BAD depends on this one case! on no! we have to DEAL WITH REBEL INSURGENTS! complete horseshit when there is not competent and functional enough character writing to get us emotionally invested here. yamazaki seems to think bigger is better, and that just simply isnt true for something like ace attorney

i've pointed this out in the past when critiquing aa5 and 6 but if you look at the actual material stakes on the line in ace attorney, they're at their highest after rise from the ashes. ousting the corrupt chief of police is the most impressive and impactful thing phoenix does with his career (arguably until the jurist system, but definitely in the trilogy.) but that's not the big Finale case for his character arc. his finale case is defending his college girlfriend; a nun who lives in the mountains, whose conviction would have had zero implications on the larger fabric of ace attorney's legal system. because takumi's writing clearly shows that he understands what makes a plot impactful is the emotional stakes the characters have invested in the events.

before taking over the main franchise, takeshi yamazaki was responsible for the miles edgeworth investigations spinoffs. i do enjoy both of those games - aai2 in particular is really strong. yamazaki does a great job with edgeworth's character arc even if i have some specific gripes with the duologys writing. i think theyre solid additions to the franchise. but you can see traces of this sort of misalignment in narrative priorities here as well. for example, the last case in aai1 is notorious for still going on for, like, an entire hour or two past the time when the last remaining plot point we care about has been revealed. because yamazaki seemingly had no understanding that That was the thing the case should have been about, and that should have been the final mic drop of the game. it just keeps going! he didn't know the game was done and he added a bunch more bullshit busywork after it that no one likes!

so yeah. without going into anything even as specific as how individual plotlines or character arcs were mishandled in aa5/6 that's really my overview What Went Wrong of those games.

#i genuinely might need to put my opinion on aa5 and 6 in my faq at this point #not because i mind getting a chance to talk about how much i hate these games. but just for due diligence #ace attorney #*there are two perfect ace attorney games: aa1 and plvspwaa #this got so long im so so sorry.#i think ill just hotlink this post in my faq because it hits most of my talking points about these games

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gurugirl · 11 months

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A Balancing Act | Ch. 4*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he’s been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He’s determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

Chapter Summary: Harry brings Y/n with him on his European tour but when Y/n decides she needs a break to figure things out Harry is beside himself. He's sure she's going to break up with him but she's sure he doesn't want the same things she does. When they finally talk will they both be on the same page?

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, dom/sub dynamic, angst, DDlg kink,

Word Count: 12.5k

Commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo)

A Balancing Act Masterlist

A balancing act requires soft poise and harmonious alignment. The joining of differing needs and wants to acquiesce for a perfect, or nearly perfect outcome. One can’t have more than the other. All sides must be used to make a point. The leveling of opinion and decision coupled with the desire to satisfy the ideal effect.

“Put that down. It doesn’t do any good.”

Y/n looked up at Harry who’d placed his palm over her phone to cover her screen. She was trying not to obsess about the pictures of herself. There were so many. And now that she’d been seeing Harry for a few months and was on tour with him in Europe, the gossip abounded. It was wild how quickly everyone learned her name, her age, the fact that she had been married, where her art pieces were showing, and even what kind of car she drove. It was… a lot.

“I know but they’ve caught me in the worst outfit and angle and these comments-“

“Please don’t do that,” Harry spoke as he sat down next to her and slid the phone from her hands, “You’re a knockout. I’ve never once looked at you and thought otherwise. None of that matters. Okay? It’s us. You and me.”

She nodded as he pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head, “I know. But still. I’m just not used to any attention. Not like this.”

“The best thing you can do is to ignore it and don’t look at the articles.”

But of course, that was easier said than done. Going to Europe with him had been a whirlwind. So many fans and friends and his family, day trips, flights, drivers, shopping, studio sessions, meetings, rushing, concerts, flowers, kissing, late-night talking, falling deeper for the man, and sex. There was a lot of sex.

It was stressful. It was fun, though, too. And she enjoyed spending time with Harry in his world but there was very little time for herself in her own world. She didn’t put paint, or ink on canvas the entire time she was with Harry in Europe. She never found the time, even though she had downtime, her inspiration waned. When Harry was in the studio writing, jamming, and making music she didn’t normally go. In fact, after going with him only twice she realized how awkward it was for her to be there. He was working with his band and his team. She was of no use there with him. She felt like she was just in the way. And she didn’t want to be the kind of girlfriend that followed him around like a puppy everywhere.

So she stayed in the hotel or in the villa or wherever they were staying depending on the leg of the trip. She’d venture out to go to cafes by herself, do some shopping, or just to walk around but it became a game of dodging people on the street who started to recognize her. Pictures and videos were taken without her consent. Later she’d see some of the photos in gossip articles and comments saying how she called the paps on herself because why on earth would anyone want a photo of her?

The hate came quickly. The vitriol for a woman that no one knew. Her social media accounts were stalked, screenshots taken and posted on other social media accounts about her and her art and what kind of person she might be based on old posts she’d long forgotten.

One old post on Instagram was of her out on her bachelorette party before she was married. It was a series of six photos. She was wearing something a little bit skimpy, but nothing too crazy. Most of the pictures showed her with a drink in hand, one of her dancing with some man she didn’t know, and the last one was of her the next morning with mangled hair and smeared makeup, a mimosa raised upward, and the words printed over the photo ‘hair of the dog’.

That one got a lot of attention. She was an alcoholic party girl, too fat to be wearing something so revealing, ugly, a slut (for dancing with a man), and the worst insult was “no wonder her ex divorced her”.

Yes, Harry’s fans learned that she had been married. Some knew that her husband had died (she wasn’t sure how they knew). But most assumed she was divorced because she didn’t post publicly about the tragic loss she endured. It was no one’s business, but for people who didn’t know her to make wild assumptions about what had occurred in her marriage was the most hurtful.

But on the other side of that were the fans that simply refused to believe he could be dating Y/n. Many were convinced Harry was either already in a relationship with an ex-band member from his boyband days or it was all for public relations. That her “team” and his “team” were in on something together for publicity. Because that would be the only explanation. Harry would never stoop so low as to date someone like Y/n. Someone who looked like Y/n. Couldn’t be. The Harry “they knew” would never.

Then of course there were those that thought she was simply using Harry’s fame to boost her own popularity in the art world. She was a leech, a sneak, conniving… It all hurt. She wasn’t sure she could stomach much more. And yes, it was true that interest in her art was boosted. Which she really didn’t like because it was more to the fact that “this is a piece of art painted by Harry Style’s girlfriend” rather than a painting that was pleasing to the eye and worth the price tag.

And Harry’s late nights at the studio and after a concert were tiresome. She had been catapulted into this strange reality with a famous man that she felt herself falling for. But how did she fit in with it all? She couldn’t see herself finding her place with him. It all felt very temporary. And the fact that she’d lost the inspiration to create herself was troublesome. The plan was that she could still paint and travel with him and they’d get to be together. She didn’t have to stay home to paint. It was supposed to be easy. But it wasn’t.

But as awful as all that was, she and Harry got closer. He’d arrive late to their bed, crawling over her and wrapping her up in his arms. Normally she’d wake up and nuzzle into him and sigh as they both fell asleep. Sometimes Harry wasn’t ready to go to sleep and he was very persuasive. If he wanted her, well, he had her. She looked forward to, with impatience, having sex with Harry.

Harry had changed her entire view on sex. It was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Prior to Harry, sex was just sex. It was usually good. Sometimes she’d orgasm. But with Harry, it wasn’t just sex. It was the joining of two separate beings in an act that was vulnerable, exciting, novel, and made Y/n’s heart thrash about in her chest from nerves and thrill. She hadn’t realized how addicted she’d become to what he did. How he handled her body and her mind.

Usually, though, she and Harry had sex during the day. With the sun in the sky, curtains open, and people milling about. She had always been used to nighttime, lights out, on her marital bed sex. Harry liked to have sex anywhere. And he liked to see it all. All of her bits. He’d kiss and praise and then spank her if she tried to hide herself. They had fun together. Sex hadn’t ever been so fun. And she slowly started to see her body in a different light.

After his last show in Paris, she went to his dressing room, like she always did after a show, and he scooped her into his arms and kissed her broadly on the lips in front of everyone. He was hard.

A small gasp fell from her lips as she craned her neck back to look up at him in surprise. He only winked down at her, swiftly turned her around, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He was literally using her body to block his erection from view of his bandmates and the event staff.

When Mitch and Sarah finally made their way to their shared dressing room Harry told his assistant he didn’t need help and dragged her to his big couch after locking the door.

“Need you to take your panties off right now,” Harry spoke as he unbuttoned his pants and kept his eyes on her.

Y/n was wearing a cute maxi dress that was comfy and easy to dance in. She learned that she needed to wear clothes that were comfortable at Harry’s concerts because there was lots of dancing. But she also wanted to look cute because there was never a shortage of photos of her, no matter how much she hated that part. And if she wasn’t dancing she was a fake, a bad girlfriend, a fat blob. Oh, but of course, even if she did dance then that meant she was trying too hard, making herself look ridiculous, and then there was the odd comment about how she was too large to be attempting to dance at all.

She pushed those thoughts down as she lifted the bottom of her dress upward and slid her panties down her legs as Harry pulled a small belt with a ball at the center out of his bag. His pants were undone but his underwear was bulging at the crotch, his cock pressing outward with strain. He stood over her where she was sat on the couch and took her panties from her hands and then motioned for her to turn around, “Face the wall, get on your knees.”

“Harry what are you-“ her words turned into a yelp as he smacked her bottom.

“Do you fucking never learn?” He leaned in and spoke quietly, his voice deep and dark, “You’ll be getting paddled tonight for that mistake. Address me properly.”

Cursing under her breath she squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t know what it was that didn’t allow her to so easily fall into just calling him Daddy like he wanted. She needed lots of reminders and her bruised bottom was proof of all of her forgetful little moments.

Part of her secretly loved it. Enjoyed the thrill of needing to be corrected and not simply giving in to him all the time.

“Sorry. Daddy. What are you doing?” Her tone clearly sardonic.

Harry raised his brows and shook his head, ignoring her mouthiness, “I’m going to fuck you against the couch and gag you so no one hears you. Now, turn around pretty girl.”

She pulled herself to her knees and turned so her palms were clutching the leather at the top of the couch and immediately felt Harry’s hands pulling her dress up so her bum was fully exposed and issued another sharp swat to her left side. She jolted in shock before turning to watch Harry behind her.

Harry brought his hands up, her panties in hand, and swiftly pulled the material over her eyes, tying the sides to the back of her head to keep it in place.

“Uh, those are expensive! You’ll stretch them!” She countered as the material hung over her sight.

Harry chuckled darkly and she felt his lips at her ear, “Who bought them for you, baby? I’ll buy you more. Don’t worry about it. Now, keep that mouth open.”

She opened her mouth quickly and felt the silicon ball take its place in her mouth, as he adjusted the buckle to the back of her head. She was unable to see or speak as she was pushed forward, her chest being pressed into the couch. Her bottom was still uncovered and she felt the cool air of the dressing room on her skin as Harry gently caressed her flesh down to where her legs were bent at her knees and over the backs of her calves and ankles before spreading her legs further apart.

“Keep your hands on the wall behind the couch, like this,” Harry moved his palms over her arms until he reached her wrists and pulled her arms out so she kept her hands flat on the wall, causing her back to arch the slightest.

“Good girl. So hot. Unbelievable baby. Daddy’s gonna have a taste now.”

She couldn’t see much or speak at all but she could certainly hear and feel. And the moment Harry’s tongue licked up through her crease her mind shifted into another gear. Harry had eaten her out in this position before. Behind her, his nose at her bum. At first, it gave her a lot of hesitancy, worried she smelled or tasted odd. But he always insisted she was delicious and he could eat her for dinner every night for the rest of his life. His reassurances had her at ease, but it still always gave her pause.

Harry moaned into her pussy as he licked and kissed. His hands were on her ass, spreading her apart as he softly licked, licked, licked… wet and hot from clit to ass, from clit to ass, clit to ass… He spat over her and stuffed two fingers into her cunt and she squealed into the gag, the sound hardly heard in the room. Harry chuffed a laugh at her muffled noises.

Soon she was soppy and achy. Harry noticed how she was pushing herself back into him. That’s where he liked to get her. To the point she was seeking her own pleasure. Where she was so worked up she wanted more.

Harry sat back and stood from the couch and pulled his cock out from his underwear. He pressed his hips into her bottom and brushed his hands over her waist, pushing her dress higher, “Daddy needs his cock milked now. So fucking horny for you, sweet girl.”

She grunted in relief when he pushed into her. It was always a welcome moment. To have his dick inside of her, parting her insides and nudging into her cervix. He was curved in such a way that his wide cock pushed into her front wall on each stroke anytime she was in this position while he was fucking into her.

She kept her hands on the wall as he pounded into her and she steadied herself the best she could but Harry was strong and he always went in with such force that it caused her a good jolt forward on each snap of his hips. Delicious.

When his long fingers wrapped around the front of her neck he squeezed the sides and slowed his plunges, “Wish everyone could hear us. Could hear how filthy your pussy gets when I fuck it. How creamy you are. Wish they could hear how it sounds to have my cock slipping deep into your wet hole.”

Y/n felt her cheeks burn and her head get foggy under the pressure of his fingers on her throat. His thrusts increased again and the couch rocked under them into the paper-thin wall Y/n used to keep herself held up.

A knock at the door and a muffled voice from behind had Harry slowing down but never stopping, “M’busy! Be out in a bit!”

She couldn’t hear whatever was said from behind the door because her ears were ringing. Harry’s cock inside of her gave her tunnel vision. She almost didn’t care if anyone heard at that point. Her body felt so good, her pussy being worked open and split down the middle, her guts rearranged, her ass smacked, throat choked.

“Fans want me out there, but I needed you first didn’t I baby?” Harry’s thrusts were sloppy and harsh as he panted his words, “Daddy wants to fuck his come into you so you’ll be out there with everyone while my sperm drips out of your pussy and down your legs. My dirty little come hole. But that’s what Daddy’s little girl likes, isn’t it? Fuck…” Harry looked down at where he was being gripped by Y/n. Her tight little pussy working its magic on him.

Y/n’s telltale signs were beginning to show. Her thighs were shaking and her back was arching and she was grinding herself onto him each time he’d pull back. She was going to come.

Harry choked out a loud groan into the room, “Fuck! I’m gonna come!”

He reached down to rub her clit just as he began to pour into her pussy. He clenched his teeth and moaned into her ear. With the angle he needed to reach her clit his chest was pressed into her back, his stiff and sharp movements were forceful into her and she felt her own orgasm follow moments later. Thanks to his long fingers that knew just what to do and where to press to get her off.

Drool slid down her chin and to her clavicle as she came. The noise of the couch still creaking under her knees as Harry continued pushing into her increased in sound.

Harry hissed and moaned and kissed the back of her neck as he kept himself stuffed inside of her as she spasmed around him, squeezing his cock of all he had and letting it drain into her. A beautiful symphony of sex in the dressing room.

Harry laughed as he removed the gag and the panties from her face. She had small marks that dug into her skin from the fabric of the panties and the leather of the belt.

“God you’re gorgeous. Gonna go out there with me to meet the fans with my come slipping out of your cunt all night? Hmm?” Harry teased as she straightened her dress out and caught her breath.

And of course, that’s exactly what happened. She walked around and met some fans. Most didn’t know who she was. Some knew her as the girl that had been spending time with Harry. Others joked that she was following him around and that he didn’t want her there.

One pretty young thing, probably still in college, went from having her picture taken with Harry to making a snide remark to Y/n, “I love how you don’t care how you look when you dance.”

To which Y/n replied, “I’m just having fun out there like everyone else,” as she shook her hand (which she hadn’t yet washed after being fucked into oblivion) and felt Harry’s orgasm dripping down her thigh.

There was something so poetic about that moment. The secret that she and Harry shared. The reason why he was 20 minutes late to greeting his fans backstage. And Y/n was the bearer of said secret. Literally, since his come was still inside of her.

And that was just one of many times Harry fucked her in his dressing room. It became a regular thing. He’d gag her to keep her quiet but anyone who stood close enough to the door could hear him moaning and the sounds of skin smacking together and couches rocking. But no one ever said anything. It was Harry’s show after all.

There was one time when they went to an event. The lovely space was packed with people and the table they sat at was mostly Harry’s crew. Jeff and Tom were there and some others. All were people Y/n had gotten to know on some level.

And as per usual, Harry was horny. Y/n had gotten used to his extremely high libido and surprised herself even when she matched him in it. She hadn’t realized she was this way until Harry came along.

She was wearing a custom dress. Nothing like she’d ever had the chance to wear before. She’d worn lovely dresses and her wedding dress, she thought, would have been the nicest article of clothing she’d ever wear. But this dress… this dress was absolutely superior to anything she’d ever laid on her body. She loved it. It fit her so well and flattered her curves and made her feel pretty.

“Want to bend you over this table and spank you so hard right now. Tear this dress off you and make you ride my cock right here at the table,” Harry spoke into her ear as their plates of food were being placed in front of them.

Y/n just smiled and nodded as she listened to him tell her what he wanted to do. That was something she also had started to get used to. He’d do things like this in public and it startled her at first, but after some time she started to enjoy it.

When everyone began eating Harry lowered his hand to her thigh and pulled her dress up. No one could see what he was doing from under the table but Y/n felt it. The material of the dress was slowly lifted until he’d pushed the fabric up enough that he could smooth his palm up between her plush thighs and tickle her pussy with the tips of his fingers.

Y/n let out a gasped laugh and leaned forward before turning to look at Harry in surprise. He only smirked back at her and lifted his brows, “You okay, my dear?”

And Harry usually got his way. If he wanted something he could pretty much always get it. Just like how he wanted her to spread her legs wider so he could have access, she gave it to him. Just like how he wanted to slide two fingers into her cunt, she let him.

To everyone at the table, Harry was holding her thigh. Nothing more. He continued to chat and make jokes as he softly fucked his fingers into Y/n’s pussy.

And the thing about this was that he couldn’t apply much pressure, if any, to her clit, so he fingered her for nearly the entire duration of their dinner. His hand was wet between her legs as he continued slow, meaningful thrusts of his fingers into her.

She was on edge. So absolutely wrecked and worked up that Sarah interrupted the conversation at the table, “Y/n. Are you okay?”

Her chest was rising and falling fast. Harry paused his movements and looked over at his lover and realized, she was indeed a mess. Had barely touched her food when everyone else had just about finished and was panting and sweating. He smiled.

“Oh! Yeah. I… probably should,” she paused to hold back her gasp as Harry pushed his thumb over her clit, “go to the bathroom. Real quick! I’ll be right back!”

Harry was forced to remove his hand from between her thighs and she pushed her skirt down and quickly walked to the hallway where she knew the restrooms were.

Harry excused himself from the table with the excuse to check on her.

Y/n was already rubbing at her clit to make herself come in the stall when Harry barged into the bathroom, “Y/n. Come out, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Her eyes widened and she was quick to walk out of the stall. She needed him badly, “Please, your cock, Daddy,” she said as she lifted her dress and Harry pushed her to lean over the sink and pulled his cock out on her request. He was already hard. Fingering her and feeling her clench around him as she grew wetter and wetter each minute had done him in.

Her panties were ruined. He pushed the drenched material to the side and plunged into her softly as they both moaned, “Rub that pretty little clit for Daddy, baby. Get yourself off.”

It was probably the quickest fuck they’d ever had. Four minutes tops. Y/n was already on fire as her orgasm burst from her core and Harry held her cheeks apart so he could watch his cock, covered in her arousal, slip in and out, in and out until she was coming and shaking and gasping.

White gobs of her come stuck at his base as he continued fucking into her deep and he finally came, filling her to the brim with his come. He pulled out to watch himself drip from her pussy and then pushed himself back in to keep his sperm inside of her where it belonged, “Holy fuck, baby. Your pussy is incredible. Just taking my come like it’s nourishment. Fucking Jesus Christ.”

It felt so good to have Harry inside of her after nearly a half hour of slow, sensual torture with his fingers.

And as they both enjoyed, Y/n dripped of him when they went back to the table to join their friends. No one knew but Harry and Y/n and that was half the fun.

So, yeah, sex with Harry was incredible. Exciting. He never let her feel like she was lacking. He loved using tools on her. Tying her up, clamping her tits and her skin, toys, spanking, spreader bars, cuffs… She’d gotten a taste of what he liked and she loved it all.

And she was pretty sure she loved Harry too. He was the sweetest man. Very attentive and gentle, thoughtful, funny, and honest. But of course, when they were in bed he was dominant and loved to put her in her place but that only added to how much she really liked him. The duality of his nature was exciting to her. And she began to feel more comfortable with her body around him. He never once made her feel bad about her size. He clearly loved every bit of her chub.

So after their whirlwind European trip she was back in Illinois at home and trying to paint while Harry was in LA in the studio working on music and other business endeavors he’d started. They talked every night. She thought the distance would be good for her to focus on her work again but it was like she was blank. Her thoughts were only filled with Harry and what he was doing and the articles with her pictures and comments…

One evening, though, she did have a spark of inspiration. She began sketching out her canvas and mixing colors and finally, after nearly a two-month dry spell, put her brush against the canvas and began to paint. It felt good. She was suddenly struck with the need to create. Hours of building a piece with color and space and lines felt like things had felt before she met Harry.

Her fingers were green and her overalls were splattered and soiled from linseed oil and various hues she’d used on her work when her phone rang. Looking up at the clock she realized it was already 9 pm. Which was the time Harry normally called her every night before he went to the studio (it was 7 pm in LA).

She wiped her hands down her clothes and cursed as she rushed to grab the phone before the call went to voicemail.

It was a Facetime call because of course it was.

“Hello?” She rang out and adjusted the screen so she could see Harry and he could see her. She tried smoothing out her hair and wiping the smudges from her face but there was little she could do to repair her current appearance.

“Hi, baby. I miss you! How are you today?” Harry spoke, his face very close to the phone, and then as he stilled himself and the screen became clear she realized he wasn’t at home. A club perhaps. Maybe someone’s house. Definitely not the studio.

“I’m good. Was just painting a bit. Finally got a spark of creativity tonight. How are you? What are you up to right now?”

Harry sighed and grinned widely, she could tell he seemed a tiny bit tipsy, “I’m at a party and I’ve been telling everyone about you. Wish you were here so you could meet everyone. We’re just chilling, had a couple drinks, then I’m going into the studio in about an hour. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

Y/n nodded and smiled. She wasn’t surprised by any of this. He normally got into the studio late and stayed until 3 or 4 am. He was most creative at that time he told her once.

“Sounds fun. Wish I was there too.”

Just then a young woman nudged into Harry’s shoulder and came in to view on the screen, “Y/n!! It’s you! I’ve heard so much about you!”

She was clearly also tipsy. And just as she was about to respond to the mystery woman she watched as the girl threw her arm over Harry’s shoulder and licked her pink tongue up his neck before kissing it. And it wasn’t just a peck of a kiss. It was quite sensual in fact. As if she were trying to give him a hickey.

Harry laughed and pushed at the girl, prying her arm from him and the girl waved her hand at the video just before moving elsewhere.

“Sorry, Jess is clingy tonight,” Harry smiled and licked his lips.

“Oh is she? Has she been trying to give you a hickey all night then?” Y/n couldn’t help the bit of jealousy that coursed through her. She figured at that point she could trust him. He was a big flirt and she knew this about him. He gave off the wrong impression to people all the time. She’d seen women trying to shoot their shot and he would eventually have them back off but many of them never assumed he was in a relationship. She’d even overhead some women (when she was backstage after concerts) bragging about how they kissed Harry or how they thought they had a shot because he'd been staring at them, which turned out to not be true of course. But it didn’t make the sting feel better.

“No. No, of course not, baby. I wouldn’t let her do that. Only you’re allowed to mark me up.”

“But she’s allowed to lick you and kiss you?”

Harry paused and suddenly the screen was blurry as he appeared to moving through the space to somewhere different.

“Wait, hold on, Y/n.” The screen went dark but she could hear shuffling and some voices until the video showed his handsome face again but now he was outside.

“Please, baby. That was not… she’s been flirting with me a little but it’s all in fun. She’s just a friend. I would never do anything to ruin what you and I have. You know that. God, I wish you were closer so I could tell you in person and see you after the studio. Wake up to you, make love to you…” he trailed off as he spoke but kept his eyes on the screen, his face set in defeat.

“I know how you are, Harry. So I get it. But doing that right in front of me? Kind of tacky. Was she trying to make me jealous? If so, I’d say she’s not a friend.”

Harry groaned and leaned his back to a bench and nodded, “I’ll stay away from Jess. She’s just been finding me all night. I mean, I’ve known her for years so… but you’re right. Sorry.”

Y/n nodded and flattened her lips together. She really hated this. Hated feeling jealous when she figured it wasn’t necessary, hated not being with him, hated how famous he was and how everyone wanted him…

After his call with Y/n, he was careful to dodge Jess. And he hadn’t really been paying much mind to her to be quite honest. Yes, she’d been kind of all over him but he was used to that. Except now he needed to think about his girlfriend and what she might think and how it could be perceived in public. Not that any of the photos from this particular party would come out to the public – it was exclusive and contracts were signed promising privacy and respect of others.

Jess was a friend of Tommy’s and she was often invited to the parties like this and so Harry had gotten to know her over the years. She was always flirty but the question that Y/n brought up was valid. Was Jess trying to make Y/n jealous? It was inappropriate for her to kiss his neck like that when he thought about it with a clear head. Even if he wasn’t on the phone with his girlfriend, that was too intimate of a gesture to be innocent. He couldn’t allow things like that anymore. Not if he wanted to keep Y/n happy. And he didn’t want those kinds of intimate touches from anyone else these days. He missed his girlfriend.

His studio session was productive. He got a lot of writing done and set some vocals down for recording too. But he was still thinking about Y/n. Thinking about how they got off the phone and he’d apologized and she said she was fine but he knew she might not really be. They were too far apart and the distance was a problem. Harry was used to some distance in relationships. It was part of the package that he came with. But he hated it with Y/n more than ever.

He was in love with her. Deeply and madly. In fact many of the songs he started to write after meeting her had something to do with her in one way or another. He couldn’t get her off his mind. He’d dated around and had a couple of serious relationships in the past, but no one left a mark on his heart like Y/n had.

. . .

“I’m feeling like I need her with me all the time. But when I offered to fly her out and have her stay here with me in LA she said she thought the distance would be good. I’m going crazy, Pat. I don’t know if she is starting to think about breaking up with me or what. I don’t want her to leave me. But she’s been so aloof lately.”

Pat shifted her leg to cross over her opposite and listened. The man wouldn’t stop talking about Y/n. Every one of their sessions had been dominated by discussions about his new relationship. Harry was sensitive deep down. He had his shit together and he was many times nonchalant about dating and matters of the heart in public, but Pat knew the truth. He was sweet and his heart was delicate.

“Just let her sus everything, Harry. You can’t push her and you know that. She’s probably going through some growing pains with you. You’re uber-famous and everyone loves you and to her, it probably feels like she’s just your girlfriend who gets a lot of mean things printed about her. It’s very likely overwhelming. Maybe she’s trying to get her head on straight and figure out what’s best for her.”

“But what if she learns that she’s better off without me?”

Pat chuckled, “What if she does? Would you still want to force her to be with you?”

Harry sighed deeply and frowned, “I guess I wouldn’t want to make her do anything she didn’t like. But that’s the thing. I know she and I have something special. When we’re together it’s like everything just makes sense. I don’t want her to let all the awful things people make up about her be how she makes her decision. Because what she and I have is incredible.”

“But you’re seeing this from your point of view. Not hers. Give her space if she needs it. Keep open communication but let her decide what she can handle.”

He didn’t like the idea that Y/n would decide he wasn’t worth it. He’d finally found the one he thought was his soulmate. The one he loved and wanted to be with for the rest of time, but now she was stepping back. Putting more space between them than he liked.

And when he offered to come to her she declined that suggestion as well. Stating it would be better to be apart for a bit. Which indicated to Harry she was done or at least considering that idea. But he couldn’t understand it! How could she be done with him? He was so far from done with her. He’d never want to be “done” with her. He wanted to marry her, have babies with her, take her with him everywhere, curl into her body, and let his skin sink into hers for all eternity.

He partly blamed the night he talked to her when Jess made her unfortunate appearance and partly the fans. Harry loved his fans. He enjoyed interacting with them most of the time. He loved the attention and the enthusiasm they gave him. He loved creating for them. But they were the ultimate cock block if there ever was one. Every relationship he’d tried to maintain while being famous had, in the end, been affected deeply by his fans. Social media was brutal as it was, but when fans got ahold of the articles and posted pictures and got “involved” it only led to awful things. Many times social media stirred the pot but the fans kept the lies and the assumptions (conspiracy theories even) flying and going on for longer than it was necessary. But it’s not like he could just drop his fans. They were what his empire was built on. He wouldn’t be doing what he was doing without them. It was all a balancing act.

“I think I’m gonna go see her. Just to talk face-to-face. I can’t go on not knowing what’s really happening and doing it over the phone is not giving me the whole picture.”

“Harry… I think it would be wise to keep her wishes in mind. You are a convincing and charismatic man and so for you to go to her in person could interrupt her rational critique. You could just be doing more harm to the relationship this way. It would be a hindrance more than anything. You might just be prolonging the inevitable and don’t you think it’s better to let things take their course naturally? You don’t always have to make all the moves and sway the outcome. This isn’t a business. This is love and relationship stuff. It doesn’t follow the same rules.”

. . .

Y/n had been feeling pretty good. Her mind was clear and her inspiration was at an all-time high. It had been a month since she’d seen Harry in person but they still spoke almost every night. She still loved him. She missed him, but the time apart felt necessary. Felt like she could grasp reality again.

But one thing was certain with the distance. It was that she couldn’t take not seeing him and touching him. She was thriving, but she was beginning to miss him more than she thought she would. Instead of getting easier, it got harder. Her nights would be spent thinking of him, what it would be like living with him, kissing him, marriage, babies… But she wasn’t sure if he was feeling like they were headed in that direction. Because if he didn’t feel like any of that was in their future then the relationship should be stopped. It couldn’t continue to jog along on the same path that it had been. They needed to progress and she needed to know he was committed to her and that he felt the same way. But as it was, their relationship was very good, it just wasn’t the kind of relationship that felt like it could move beyond what it was. She needed to tell him and be honest about what she wanted. Marriage, babies, 100% commitment… But what would happen once she told him all of this? Would he run for the hills? It could very well be the end of them.

. . .

She had insisted that he not come to the gallery where her work was displayed. It was in New York City and he begged to come. He told her he would take some time off before the next leg of his tour began. Told her that he had a beautiful spot he always stayed at and she could be with him and he’d take her out to his favorite restaurant in the city… but she said no. And Pat told him to listen to her.

Which was hard for him. Harry didn’t like being told no, and normally, no didn’t matter much (of course depending on the situation). Normally, he’d just go anyway and surprise her and dote on her, and in his mind, she’d be so happy and they’d have amazing sex and things would go back to how they were before she pushed for distance. But that’s not how it went.

Instead, she had a weekend in New York City without him. They spoke every night and she told him everything and he pleaded with her some more to let him come to her but she still said no.

On Sunday when they got off the phone Harry was beside himself. She had been too busy to really talk. She was getting on a flight to go back home so he understood why but that didn’t mean he was okay. He cried. He felt his heart drop and felt her slip away. She didn’t want to see him, she didn’t want his support, and she wouldn’t go to see him either… so what was left?

He’d been good and paying attention to, heeding Pat’s advice. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t force her hand in this. But God did it hurt. If only she’d let him visit her she’d see how good they were together. Nothing else mattered.

But he needed to know what she wanted. Because it didn’t feel like she wanted the same thing. They needed to talk, face-to-face, and he needed her to be direct. To rip off the band-aid once and for all. Then he could begin to heal and try to get over her.

When she called him the following day it was unexpected because it was much earlier than they usually had their calls and it was just a call, not a Facetime chat.

“Hi. How are you?”

Harry had had a lump in his throat for the last few days with his thoughts about her. About how she was going to end it. About how she didn’t really want to put in the effort to be with him. That he wasn’t worth it. That his fame and his fans were too much.

“I’m good. You’re calling a bit early. What’s going on?”

“I just had some really good news! A curator bought ten of my paintings and will be hosting an exhibit at David Kordansky and I’ve been invited to go as a guest of honor of sorts, amongst the other artists! It’s going to be all these big names. Oh my god, I’m so excited!”

Harry smiled widely, “Baby, I’m so proud of you. When is the exhibit?”

“It’s next weekend! And you know David Kordansky, right?”

“Uh… no. Sorry. Should I?”

Y/n giggled into the phone, “Oh… it’s just one of the biggest and most popular galleries in Los Angeles.”

Harry’s eyes went wide, “Here? You’re coming here?”

“Yes! God, I’m so excited! You’re the first person I’ve told and I just got the news right before calling you. So, I’m still processing it all. But yeah! And a bonus is that maybe you can come! If you want. If you can!”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell everyone I’m booked next weekend. Spending it with my girl.”

She sighed into the receiver with a big grin on her face, “I can’t wait to see you, Harry.”

. . .

Y/n was properly nervous. She had been trying to keep her distance from Harry but it had sort of backfired. She wanted to feel out the situation without his influencing nature and his hot body, and those pink lips pecking at her, his deep voice luring her to see it his way. The longer she was away the more she realized that she could barely breathe without him. She was so far gone for the guy that the distance only made her ache. Yes, she got a bit of her creative spark back, but she felt like that was more of an internal issue than it was to do with Harry.

But her nerves weren’t because she was going to see him after over a month. The nerves were because she needed to confront him with her real feelings and find out if he was on the same page. She had to know once and for all what he wanted. And if any of her ideas of where the relationship should head weren’t on Harry’s radar, well, it had to be over. They couldn’t continue like they were. It was perpetual limbo. Purgatory. She loved him and if she were younger with more time to spare she’d enjoy traveling with Harry and just having fun without expectation of where their final destination would land them. But as it was, she wanted to start having babies in the next few years. And if Harry didn’t then she’d need to start over and begin dating around. And that takes time. So she needed to get a move on. Find someone that wanted the same things she did. If that wasn’t Harry.

She had planned for the worst. All the scenarios in her mind led to them breaking up. She couldn’t imagine that Harry would be willing to settle down with her. He had the whole world at his fingertips. And she was just a girl from the Midwest. She really didn’t imagine that they had much more left to pick at. The pages stopped turning. The well had run dry. It was fun while it lasted.

Harry had his driver take him to the airport to pick her up. She told Harry she could just take a taxi but he didn’t want to miss a single moment with her. Wanted to see her the second she arrived in LA. And he was there. Waiting for her just as he said he would.

He scooped her into his arms and felt tears prick at his eyes, “Oh my god. Y/n… I missed you so much.”

She felt her heart swell and lurch with his arms around her and his lips on her forehead. Right in front of everyone in the airport. Photos were snapped and Harry didn’t care. He looked down at her and she noticed his eyes were glossy, “Harry…” she thumbed at his cheek, “Are you okay?”

Harry sniffed and the tip of his nose was red as he nodded, “I am now.”

She’d been to his house before they went away to Europe. They spent two days having sex and just staying in enjoying one another. Those two days were her favorite memories with Harry. Not that she hadn’t absolutely enjoyed everything else they’d done together and where they spent their time but there was something really special about being in his lovely home doing nothing with him and eating some of the best food she’d ever had (a combination of Harry’s cooking, delivery from some of the best restaurants in LA, and leftovers from a fancy catered party that Harry skipped but had requested two large bags full of yummies dropped off for them).

And the moment Harry had her in his house this time around, they were tearing clothes off and making love on his big bed. Harry didn’t bother with the clamps or ties or the belt this time. He just wanted her. Wanted to show her himself and how much he loved her. In fact, he planned on telling her he loved her soon. He needed her to know how he felt.

And the irony of it all was that Y/n was thinking the same thing. She wanted to tell him how she felt. He needed to know the truth and she needed to know where he stood. But they were both hesitating and it didn’t come out quite the way they intended.

“I think we should talk a little, Harry. I’ve had something on my mind for a bit. It’s… kind of important.”

They were both still naked lying on his bed when she blurted it out. Harry felt his stomach drop. He’d been constantly on edge that she was going to break up with him and he didn’t know if his heart could handle it.

So instead of talking he sat up quickly and got off the bed, “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s talk. Um, I need to take a shower first… and then uh… we can talk. Yeah.”

Harry cried in the shower. Preparing himself for the worst. Trying to get his emotions out and let his body soak in the warm water and calming scent of his shampoo. He was a mess. And he assumed it was over.

And to Y/n, him hopping out of bed like that and running off when she said they should talk, that move was his answer. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to hear her truth. He had no intention of being committed or serious with her. He only wanted sex and fun. And that was great, but she was closing in on 30 and it was time to settle down and find love. And it was clear to her now, that Harry didn’t want that. Or at least not in the way she did.

She paced in his bedroom for a bit after dressing herself but when he was still showering, twenty minutes later she went downstairs and paced in his living room. She saw a bouquet of flowers near the front door at the table with a card in it and she automatically plucked the card out to read. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would be reading anything that could upset her. But she was caught off guard by the message.

“Let’s get dinner tonight, H. I miss you endlessly. Love – O”

She flipped the card over and there was nothing on the back except the name of the florist. No date anywhere. She didn’t know when these were delivered or if he’d had dinner with his ex. Her heart sank and her stomach felt heavy.

She slowly made her way back up the stairs and realized the shower was off. Harry was done. She found him standing on his balcony looking out over his garden. He hadn’t even bothered to find her. To see what she wanted to talk about that she said was important. He clearly didn’t care.

He took a 35-minute shower and then went out to chill on his balcony.

She considered just leaving without a word. Just calling an Uber and leaving for good. Getting a hotel room and forgetting about it all.

But now she was pissed.

She opened the balcony door and Harry was startled when he heard her approaching.

She laughed as she shook her head, “Forget I was even here huh?”

Harry scrunched his brows and shook his head but before he could respond she continued, “That’s okay. I get it. You and I aren’t on the same page. You’re having fun and you’re free and getting invited out to dinner with your ex, and-“

“Wait! What? I don’t-“

Y/n put her hand up, “You heard me. It’s okay. We never made any sort of promises or real commitments. Never said we’d wind up married or together in the end. You’re at your best and you deserve fame and fun and freedom. I’m only holding you back.”

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and shook his head, “No. Y/n… this was what I was worried about that you were-”

“That I want a real relationship? I’m almost 30. I can’t be playing around and traveling the world when I don’t know what you even want. And you just made it clear how disinterested in my concerns you really are-“

“Y/n. Please. What are you-“

“Stop. All you do is tell me what I should think and what I should do. You’re too… you pressure me to see things your way and you never listen. So now you listen to me.” She swallowed to gain her composure and looked up at him squarely so he understood how serious she was, “I can see now clearly, you have no interest in making a family with me. In being with me. You’re just having some fun. And that’s okay. But our fun has come to an end. I can’t go on like this anymore. I need to find someone who wants what I want. Someone who isn’t stuck on their ex and someone who will tell the whole world about me and not pretend that I’m just someone you hang out with.”

Harry shifted on his feet. He hadn’t expected this. In all the scenarios he ran in his mind she was breaking up with him and she didn’t want to be with him and he wasn’t worth it. But she was saying she wanted commitment. He smiled and opened his mouth but Y/n scoffed.

“See? You’re not even taking this seriously! Here I am telling you I’m breaking up with you and you’re smiling! You couldn’t give a shit!”

Harry’s smile fell from his face, “No I was… You’re breaking up with me? Y/n please-“

She pushed him off of her and backed away, “Go and enjoy dinner with Olivia or whoever. I’m out of here.”

Harry ran after her, “No! You can’t leave me! Please that’s not what happened. I didn’t even see her. And if you’d just listen-“

Y/n stomped her foot and turned to face the tall man. She pointed her finger at this chest, “I’m done listening. We’re done. You broke my heart.”

Harry shook his head and followed behind Y/n the whole way to the front door, pleading with her to stop so they could talk but she continued to cut him off.

“Stop! You don’t get to push me into making a decision anymore. It’s over.”

She gathered up her bags and shakily pulled her phone out to bring up her Uber app to call for a car. She was thankful all of her bags were still near the front door.

She rushed out of the house and Harry felt like he was going mad. She wouldn’t let him talk and explain and tell her that he wanted what she wanted. Every time his mouth opened she yelled for him to stop. Screamed even. Had he been so insufferable that this was how she reacted to him?

So he watched with tears in his eyes and his heart in his hands as she loaded her things into the Uber and left him standing at his gate.

He didn’t know what he would do. What could he do? He needed to let her cool off and then he’d go to her and have a conversation. He’d make her see that they’d been on the same page all along.

He called Mitch to get advice.

Mitch asked him why he hadn’t called Pat instead but Harry insisted his best friend would give him the best and most brutal advice, while also supporting him and wishing him luck. Which is actually what happened.

“Go and surprise her at the gallery. Do something ridiculously dramatic and then declare your love for her to everyone in the room. Something like that. I don’t know man. I think you two will work it out. You’re so good together. I think she just needed some time, ya know.”

Harry sighed, “Pat’s going to hate that. But I’ve got to do it, though, right? Do something absolutely nuts to get her to listen to me.”

. . .

Y/n had the worst, absolutely the most horrible, awful evening. She bawled her eyes out and barely slept. Harry hadn’t even tried reaching out to her. Not that she really wanted that. She half expected it. But it only solidified everything to her. She imagined he probably slept like a baby.

The following day was the exhibit. She was not prepared. Not mentally anyway. Her tears had barely dried by the time she was entering the gallery. She put on a happy face and forced herself to talk and smile. But she only felt the dread of what had happened the day before.

The curator greeted her, bringing a glass of champagne for her to sip, “I’m amazed by your work. I think your collection fits in so nicely here. But you know I’m holding on to all your pieces until one day someone offers me a million each for them,” he laughed and Y/n smiled. She doubted that would ever happen.

The evening should have been amazing. She was meant to have Harry with her and it was supposed to be a big night for her. Something that could potentially change the trajectory of her career. But Y/n wasn’t happy. Her exciting moment was clouded by thoughts of Harry and how she loved him but now it was over.

Through the doorway opposite the entrance was a small bar area. Guests could go get their drinks and then head back into the gallery. But there were a few bar tables and some stools. Y/n had been eyeing it all night. A moment to get away and sit by herself for a while.

The room was darker and quieter, even though it was open to the main gallery. The small high-top tables had four tall, cushioned stools around each. The only person in the bar was the bartender.

“Hi. Can I have a glass of chardonnay?” Y/n leaned into the bar and her eyes settled over the array of colorful bottles lined up behind the young lady who stood at the bar.

The young woman smiled, “Sure. Anything in particular? Would you like to see what I’ve got?”

“Not really. This is going to sound so bad, but just the cheapest one.”

Y/n dug into her small clutch to pull out her phone card and then waited as the young lady poured a glass of Y/n’s cheap glass of wine.

“Your art is excellent. I’m a big fan.” The woman looked over her shoulder as she plumbed the top of the bottle with the cork and placed it back into the small fridge below the counter.

“You know my work?” It was not expected. She didn’t think the bartender would know the artists by their faces alone.

“Yes! Of course. I usually get to know who the artists are that have their pieces here. Yours is outstanding.”

She felt her face get warm from the odd feeling she always got when someone loved her work and recognized her. She still hadn’t gotten used to that feeling yet but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

When she took the glass she thanked the lady for the wine, “And, thank you for the kind words too. That means a lot to me.”

She took a deep breath and sipped her wine in the empty space as she attempted to let her bad mood dissolve. She knew it was impossible to let it go completely. Her wound was so fresh. She’d just gotten her heart broken and that would take some time to grapple with. But she knew she could be okay because she’d dealt with and come through the worst kind of tragic loss anyone can imagine. Losing Robert devastated her. For a very long time. She’d only gotten to a place where she felt she was ready to find love again. And her short time with Harry was nothing in comparison to what she’d suffered. So yeah, she’d been through far worse. She’d be okay.

The music that played in the small space was slow and the tune sounded a lot like an old Foo Fighters song. But it was all instrumental and she couldn’t be sure. She pulled out her cell phone and decided to text her sister. Catch up a bit. Feel something sweet and nostalgic to get her mind off of her sorrows.

She smiled when her sister texted back with a picture of the kids.

She looked up and paused to listen closely to the music playing again. Yeah. It was an instrumental version - definitely Foo Fighters. Everlong. That was the song! She snapped her fingers and smiled again as he looked back at the picture of her nieces.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Y/n. This is for you.” The bartender laid an envelope down on the table. It had her name written on it.

This felt very reminiscent of-

She looked around the room and out into the gallery, where people fitted in lovely outfits and amazing hairstyles milled about, in search of the one person that might have had something to do with this.

She looked back down at the envelope and toward the young lady who had already gone back behind the bar, “Who gave this to you?” She was hesitant to open it.

“Ms. Adams. The gallery’s director. She said it was from a very special guest.”

A very special guest.

She wasted no more time in ripping the top of the envelope open knowing already who it was from.

She braced herself for what she might read on the folded paper inside. Her heart walloped in her chest and she felt her throat go dry as she carefully pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

I’m sorry for the way things happened yesterday. I wanted to tell you so much more. I need you in my life, Y/n. Take a drink in the director’s office with me? Please? - H

She swallowed thickly and placed the paper down on the lacquered wood. The words stared up at her. Very reminiscent of that night. Their first night together.

She decided to take a moment. Finish her glass of wine and find her resolve. She’d see him. Because of course, she would. She’d fallen for the guy and perhaps closure would be good. For both of them. She tried not to get her hopes up.

But even with the idea that she wouldn’t get her hopes up, from the very base of her spine, small bursts of hope began spreading over her back, warming her up and causing the edge of her lip to flick upward the tiniest bit.

She had to stop. She couldn’t allow the butterflies and the warmth to cover her chest. This wasn’t an olive branch. This wasn’t hope. But that was what her body was feeling, the way it reacted after reading his words.

Stop.

She read the note again and the right side of her mouth quirked but she stifled the smile that tried breaking out over her features.

“Uh, hi!” She scooted off her stool and waved at the bartender, “Do you know where the director’s office is by chance?” The young woman smiled, “Follow me, Ms. Y/n.”

Y/n followed behind the young woman to a doorway at the far end of the room and into a hallway. Framed prints were hung along the wall and the floor was dark wood while the walls were a light cream. A few doors were passed, the bathrooms, a numbered room, until finally, they reached the director’s office.

The woman knocked before turning the knob to open the door and stood back, “Here you are.” She gestured at the open door.

“Thank you.” Y/n wavered in her movements wondering if this was the right thing. Should she entertain this idea? Of course, she was going to entertain this idea, but part of her wanted to keep her tough exterior and remain firm in her decision.

Slowly pushing the door further open, she stepped into the threshold and was met with a quaint office-sized room. The same dark wood floors sprawled below her feet, but the very first thing her eyes landed on was that of Harry holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a soft smile.

She closed the door behind her and stepped in a couple of feet. He was in a well-fitted navy suit and he looked tired. But he was handsome.

The thought quickly hit her. How did he get in here? Who let him use the director’s office? But then, as he ran his ringed fingers through his hair and she saw remnants of chipped nail polish she was reminded of who he was. Not just her lover or her ex. But he was Harry. Everyone knew him or knew of him. Of course, he was allowed in the director’s office.

“Hi, Y/n,” Harry spoke reticently as he held out the bouquet to her.

He wasn’t sure she’d come to him or that she’d want to even talk to him. And he thought about making a grand gesture. Take over the audio system and declare his love publicly before everyone as he walked out into the crowd toward her. Make a scene. Make her listen. Have everyone rooting for them. Rooting for him.

But that wasn’t right. That would have been too pushy. Not fair. This night was about her. If he’d gone about it the way he wanted it would have had all eyes on him.

He knew, though, that he needed to be here with her. To tell her how he really felt and what he wanted and then if she still wanted that with him, still wanted to be with him, they could end the night the way it was meant to be ended. Together.

“Hi, Harry,” Y/n spoke softly, keeping her eyes on his eyes as she took the lovely bouquet full of pink peonies and soft cream roses.

Harry gestured toward the brown Midcentury style couch, “Will you sit with me? I won’t take up much of your time if you don’t want. I just wanted to say some things.”

The couch was large enough for just two people. Harry was glad she had to sit so close to him. He wanted to eat her up she looked so pretty and so sweet. And just the fact that she’d come to him to entertain a conversation had him soaring.

Placing the bouquet down on the glass coffee table, Y/n noticed the bottle of wine and two glasses as he pointed, “Would you like a glass?”

Nodding her head, Harry pulled the cork out and poured her a bit of the red wine. She felt like she should say no just for the fact that she’d only just finished a glass of white wine and surely it would make the red wine taste odd. But ultimately she figured she could use another glass of wine.

“Yesterday I was working up the courage to tell you how I want to be with you for good,” Harry said as he leaned his back into the cushion behind him with his own glass of wine, “Wanted to tell you how serious I am about you. But I thought you were planning on breaking up with me so I needed a minute to figure out how I was going to convince you to stay.”

Y/n’s eyes bounced over his features as she cinched her brows inward. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had he wanted the same thing she did the whole time?

“And I’m so sorry that it seemed to you like I was putting off a serious conversation with you. That’s my fault. I should have stayed there with you in bed and listened to you right off. Even if it meant potentially having you break up with me,” he licked his lips and sighed, “Instead, I did what I normally do and tried and figure out a way to make something work in my favor. So I paused that moment hoping you’d change your mind, or that I could come up with something. Prolonging it for the sake of just holding on to you a little longer.

“It’s because I’m selfish and I like to control the narrative. But that’s never been fair to you. So, I understand if my apology is no good anymore. I just felt like maybe I can tell you what was really happening in my head yesterday. Because that part, you did have wrong.”

Y/n blinked her eyes and nodded, “Well, then… I guess I’m sorry too. Because it sounds like I might have jumped to conclusions. I just didn’t think you’d want something serious. Long term. But there’s more to it than just that you know?”

Harry frowned and shook his head, “What do you mean?”

Y/n could see how timid Harry had been since the moment she walked into the room with him. She felt the need to help assuage him so she turned her body toward his and pulled his hands into hers before speaking, “I mean that I’m getting older and I think it’s time for me to really settle down. For good. I mean…” she breathed out a nervous laugh, “like, babies, marriage… death. All that. That’s what I mean.”

Harry nodded and raised his brows, “Yeah?”

Y/n grinned as Harry’s thumbs ran along the sides of her hands. The corner of his mouth pulled upward. She could see his swagger return in almost an instant. His eye contact was solid and his dimples carved into his cheeks.

“Well, yeah,” she started to feel flustered by his proximity, the way she could see his pupils roaming over her face and watching her mouth, “I’m not saying we need to get married but like,” she swallowed, “I’d like for us to be serious enough to know that we’d be headed that direction if things are good. And I know you’re super famous and that’s why yesterday I just…”

“I want to be with you. I want it all with you.” Harry bowed his head, finally breaking eye contact and his hands tightened around hers, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you were going to break up with me and that I wasn’t going to be worth all the trouble for you. Because I know this is a lot.”

“No. I just thought you wouldn’t want what I wanted and the way you reacted to me telling you I wanted to talk and how you didn’t come to find me after you were done showering… I felt like you were trying to figure out the best way to break it to me- either that or you were trying to avoid me. I just… Thought the worst.”

She couldn’t have described the way her insides were pulsing and expanding and churning. She’d spent the better half of the day reeling over losing him. Over knowing she might not get to look into his eyes in this way again. Might not see the small freckles on his face again and the way he blushed despite being so sure of himself. But here she was sitting with Harry and in under three minutes everything had changed. If she had just listened yesterday. If he had just listened.

“But so did I. That’s why we’re in this mess. I thought you were breaking up with me and so my behavior made you think the worst.”

Y/n smiled and allowed herself to indulge in his eyes and in the grin he was holding back and the way his fingers felt on hers… Was she just dreaming? Was she just about to wake up and realize it had all been a dream?

“Is it okay if I… ?” He pulled at her gently and slowly wrapped his arms around her and she smelled his familiar cologne. She loved how this felt. Hugging him. Feeling his solid body against hers. She eased into his hold and wrapped her own arms around him.

Harry whispered into her ear, “I should have told you everything yesterday. Let you talk and then we wouldn’t have gotten in this mess. It’s me and you, Y/n. Okay? Me and you. That’s what I want.”

Tears of relief and elated joy broke from her waterline and Harry pulled her in tighter, kissing her temple, “I thought you were done with me. I thought you wanted to break up with me,” the anguish in his voice was not missed. He’d been hurting too.

Harry brushed his palm up and down on her back slowly and pressed his lips to the top of her head, “God I was so worried this was it for us. Fuck. I’m not letting you leave me again like you did. I can’t be away from you like that, Y/n.”

Pulling her head back to look up at him she did see the glisten in his eyes from the start of tears. She knew hers matched. It all felt like a dream. But just in case it was real she needed to speak the words. Sliding her hands upward and cupping his face she was nearly trembling from relief and excitement, “I love you, Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into hers, clutching her lovely dress tightly, “God, I love you, Y/n.”

. . .

Stepping into the gallery with all the other people in the room and having Harry by her side felt surreal. Everyone was watching them. She was okay to share this night with him. There was no way around it that people wouldn’t be interested in her because of her boyfriend. She figured that would be something she’d just have to get used to.

Harry squeezed her hand tight and she looked up at him. He looked proud. So important with a big, pleased smile on his lips as he looked down at her.

“You realize you’re coming back home with me after this. Right? And I’m never letting you leave me again.”

Harry had grown a lot as an individual. He still had moments where he could be pushy and use his charm to get the things he wanted, but he figured some things just couldn’t be totally trained out of him. He allowed Y/n to make her own choices. He gave her space when she needed but she came back to him in the end. He wanted her to be his and everything they’d done that had gotten them to where they were currently had worked out. So Harry had no regrets about coming to her on this night.

“Of course, I’m coming home with you. I’d be offended if you assumed otherwise,” she smirked happily. “And I wouldn’t dream of leaving you again.”

Harry couldn’t wait to get her home and make love to her. Seal it all together in finality. He knew that tonight was just the beginning for them.

And as if they could both read one another’s minds they smiled and paused together in time. Everything had finally come together for them. At last.

A/N: This is the last part of this series! Would love your feedback!

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comatosebunny09 · 5 months

Text

with a pretty bow on top | astarion a.

summary: you’ve never been particularly good at wrapping things. but you want to ensure your friends have the best gifts of all, including a certain snarky elf who’s difficult to please. genre(s): romance, fluff, modern au, friends to (possible) lovers warning(s): alcohol, profanity, mentions of blood, mutual pining notes: merry chrysler! i hope everyone has a lovely christmas! thank you so much for reading! screenshot credit

For the umpteenth time, the paper rips.

And for the umpteenth time, you feel this is a lost cause. Deflate like a balloon, a sigh rushing past your lips.

You’ve never been particularly good at wrapping things. Usually had your mother or roommate to carry that burden.

You routinely opt for gift bags. Easier to drop a present inside, dress it up with pretty tissue paper and a witty card, and go about your business.

But you made a terrible mistake, forgoing the convenience store in your haste to get to your Airbnb.

It’s a tucked-away cabin in the woods. Secluded and ominous, shrouded by the night. The pristine blanket of snow building outside makes up for its creepiness. It’s nice to be away from the city, too, surrounded by people you adore. People who’ve filled the space between your ribs for years.

On cue, their merriment reaches your ears, streaming from the kitchen.

They’re hammered. You should be, too. But you want to ensure your friends have the best gifts of all. Wrapped neatly and tucked beneath the Christmas tree, waiting to be ripped open come morning.

You huff, balling up another sheet of paper and chucking it.

Errant pieces of tape litter your clothing. Strips of foil wrapping paper gleam in the light emitted from the fireplace. The ribbons you haphazardly cut shift in the ceiling fan’s breeze. Your battlefield.

The medium-sized box sitting between your spread legs leers at you condescendingly. You fold your arms, nudging it with your foot.

“I’m not your bitch,” you mutter, turning your nose up with a scowl.

“Well, that’s no way to greet an old friend.”

You start, your attention pilfered by the man wandering towards you.

He paints an ethereal picture in the firelight, curls flouncing about and glowing like a halo around his head. A bottle of wine and two Bordeaux glasses greet you from between his fingers. He wears that effervescent smirk beneath round frames. Brow pitches up with amusement, gait flamboyant whilst the kitchen blurs behind him.

You swallow, your lips trembling around a greeting when he plops down beside you. Cross-legged, scooting closer like a friend bearing gossip. Fills your lungs with the smell of brandy and cracked vanilla beans. He’s naturally corpse-cold, but the slightest bit of warmth radiates off his skin, permeating through the layers of your clothes.

Must’ve fed on something viscous wandering the woods before he found you.

He brings you back when he pushes a glass into your hand.

“I was wondering where you’d wandered off to,” Astarion purrs, his tone colored with alcohol. With your breath held in your esophagus, you watch as he pops the stopper off the bottle with a pointed tooth. Spits it out. “Mind if I impede on your party of one?”

Your lips twitch. Like you’d ever say no to him. “Course not.”

And no, you do not nearly jump some 50 feet out of your skin when limber fingers curl around yours, bringing the glass up for him to fill it. He catches your stare over the rim, scarlet spun eyes alight with mischief. You look away as heat branches up your neck.

The dark liquid sloshes about as he fills his own glass. Fizzles, the sweet fragrance curling around your nose. “Finally, some good shit,” you breathe, taking a sip. Release a content sound as it bubbles on the back of your tongue. The burn of it washes over your nerves, loosening them.

Astarion scoffs, leaning back on the hand he positioned behind you. Adam’s apple bobs in your peripheral as he takes a swig. He redirects his attention to you, something of a pout occupying his lips. “Darling, you wound me. As if I would bring anything worse than that cheap excuse for booze you lot rave about. Four Loko, was it?”

You snicker, nursing your glass. Turn the stem between your fingers, examining the hardwood floor beneath.

Sure, he’s always had this thing with you. This way of squeezing himself beneath your skin where no one else could, turning you into some flustered mess. But you can’t deny you’ve missed his company. His eccentricities. His smell.

The years have dragged you all apart. Pushed you in different directions, your careers casting you out to sea. But like driftwood, you all floated back to shore. United under the same roof to celebrate Christmas and usher in the new year.

It’s a pleasant sensation, idling with the wine warming your veins.

The hum of his voice eases through your musings. “Mm, what’s this about?” Astarion queries around another mouthful of wine, signaling to the massacre at your feet.

You shrink. An uneasy smile rounds your cheeks. “Yeah, about that. Kinda got carried away.”

“Carried away? By the hells, it looks like you got into a fight with a pair of scissors and…lost. Abysmally.”

You snort. “Alright, alright. Take it easy. We can’t all be gifted with our hands like some people, Mister Art Teacher.”

Your stomach plummets. Blood turns to ice. The double entendre hits you like a sack of coal. You bring your glass to your lips to mask your unease. To mask the shakiness of your limbs.

Astarion exudes smugness, admiring his nails with a flourish of his fingers. “Well, these hands aren’t just made for sculpting works of art, my dear.”

You sputter, speckles of wine flying everywhere.

Astarion chuckles, the sound of it smooth as velvet. Leans closer, his elbow brushing your thigh as he reaches for something in front of you. You stiffen, biting the rim of your glass. It’s almost like you two haven’t been friends for years. Haven’t seen each other bleed, cry, piss, for God’s sake.

“Come,” beckons Astarion, taking up a roll of wrapping paper and plucking the box from between your legs.

You huff a disbelieving laugh. “What are you doing?”

He scoffs. Side-eyes you as if it’s as apparent as night and day. “Well, clearly, no one’s taught you the art of wrapping a bloody gift. I mean, look at this. A child could do better.”

Your shoulders touch your ears. Astarion’s disapproval is akin to upsetting your parents. Even after all this time apart, he still knows how to lay the insults on thick.

It’s kind of comical how he grumbles like an embittered old woman, unraveling some of the paper. Still methodical in everything he does, positioning the box in the center. Concentration pulls his brows together. “Fetch me that tape.”

You give him an incredulous look. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you relent before doing as he demanded instructed. His fingers ghost over your hand in pursuit of the tape, and you bristle.

Astarion goes into full scholar mode hereon, paper rippling around him as he cuts away. Moves like a butler masterfully laying out a tablecloth. No trace of inebriation lies in the shift of his fingers. It’s as if he hadn’t polished off a bottle of brandy before finding you.

“Typically, wrapping paper comes with a template. A set of squares or lines you can use to gauge where you need to cut.”

He gestures for the scissors. You scramble for them like a student eager to please their instructor.

“Depending on how precise you want the wrapping to be, you must trim off as much excess as possible whilst ensuring you have enough left to cover your parcel.”

“Interesting.”

You angle yourself closer, sitting up on your haunches. The bulb of your glass grows warm, stained with your fingerprints. You nod, genuinely intrigued. Chin finds the pocket of his shoulder—an affectionate gesture amongst longtime friends.

Astarion tenses. You wince, flinching away.

“Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s quite alright, darling.” He clears some phlegm from his throat. Squeezes your kneecap, presenting you with a fraction of a smile. Dragonflies tickle the lining of your stomach. He resumes his lesson as if his muscles aren’t pulled taut.

Your lips twitch. Seems Astarion’s not the only one capable of disarming those around him.

You cant your head along the slope of his shoulder, watching him work with the curiosity of a child.

“It helps to tape here.” Carefully, he layers a strip of tape near the edge of the box where paper meets cardboard. “So as to keep your paper from shifting.”

As Astarion leads on, you find yourself terribly distracted. Your vision ebbs and flows. Body buzzes. From his proximity or the wine, you’re unsure. It’s a pleasant sensation, nonetheless.

The cacophony of the cabin and your friends fade into a dull hum. Only the rumble of Astarion’s voice fills the wrinkles of your brain. He’s surprisingly nurturing despite how he outwardly projects himself to the world. Soothing as he speaks to you, gaze occasionally flitting your way to ensure you’re still with him.

Try as you might to focus, you find your lids drooping, your vision blurred around the edges. An inebriated smile teases your lips. You could fall below the inky depths of sleep like this, led into it by his voice. Still would feel perfectly safe on your descent, knowing he’d be there to haul you back to the surface.

You sit up to take him in. To observe the furrow of his brows, the coil of his lashes. The gilded lenses perched on his nose like a librarian. His mouth pulls into a tight line while he focuses. Plump and petal pink. Skin’s still smooth and dewy, glowing in the firelight like he’s descended from heaven. His hands move seemingly of their own volition. Caught in a dance he knows all too well, still pretty and delicate-looking, untouched by time.

You imagine what they’d feel like, clasped in yours. Thumb cruising over the grooves of your knuckles, pushing reassuring beneath your skin. How he’d look with a careless smile, whispering the sweetest supplications into the crown of your head.

Reality comes pitching forward, the moment ending too soon.

You blink out of your reverie as Astarion slides the box toward you. It softly thumps against your leg. Expertly wrapped with a bow in its center and ribbons waterfalling down its sides. You stare in awe. You could never master something so intricate.

“And that, my dear, is how you wrap a present.” Astarion pats your thigh with finality before leaning back with a sigh. Looks smug as ever whilst taking a sip of his forgotten wine.

You smirk. Offer Astarion a half-hearted applause, and he eats it all up.

“I envy whatever bastard receives this, honestly,” he croons around the mouth of his cup. “I outdid myself.”

You chuckle. Your inhibition is thrown to the wolves. You eye the present, your body vibrating with anticipation. Maybe it’s the liquid encouragement urging you forward, loosening your tongue. Whatever the cause, you push on.

“I mean, I’d hope he likes it. He took his time wrapping it, after all.”

Astarion casts you a sidelong glance. Snorts into his glass. Realization gradually descends on his features. It’s funny watching his face morph into something akin to a confused puppy.

You shrug, caught like a child rifling through a cookie jar. It takes a moment, but his brows finally lift with an unasked question.

Seriously, they ask. For me?

You reach for the box, pointedly avoiding his stare. The heat of bashfulness inhabits your cheeks as you carefully slip the box into his lap. Your hand lingers. Fingers tenderly grip the meat of his quad, stars dancing across the stratosphere of your eyes when you muster the courage to look at him.

“Merry Christmas, Starry.”

He sputters. Sits up. Glances between you, the box, and the clock perched above the mantle. It’s midnight. Tradition dictates you open one present at the cusp of Christmas day.

Astarion laughs, something airy and pleasant. His hand closes over yours, and he squeezes. He’s beautiful like this. Youthful as he glances up at you, his mouth working around a reply.

“You cheeky little shit. Making me wrap my own gift. The gall.”

He acts offended, but you know that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Would you rather I have wrapped it?”

You both warily eye your shit attempts at wrapping his gift.

“Fair enough,” he jests with a resigned drop of his shoulders.

You share a laugh, the air between you charged with affection. Through it all, you note Astarion’s hand has yet to leave yours. Thumb kneads reassuring circles into the clutch of your hand. Your heart thrums a war cadence in your ears, blotting out the sound of his wine glass clinking against the floor as he sets it down.

He releases a breath. Observes you a moment longer with a warm smile on his lips. Shifts his gift onto the floor beside him. “Come here,” Astarion murmurs, saturating your vision with nothing but him as he leans closer.

You heed his request, and your lids lower, a pleasant shiver sifting through your bones at his glacial fingers at the nape of your neck. You have but seconds to appreciate the flutter of his lashes before he closes in.

He fuses his lips to yours with such precision. Tender, supple. Just like you always dreamed they would be. He’s frigid, but he scorches you from within. Gently takes possession of your cheek, coaxing your lips to part with the slide of his tongue after your body relaxes.

You grant him the entry he requests with an abrasive sound easing from your throat. Warmth pools in the chasm of your belly whilst your tongues intermingle and the maple taste of brandy pushes into your mouth.

His voice vibrates in your mouth as he chuckles something satisfied. He breaks the kiss with a soft click, and you chase his mouth in pursuit of another.

“Don’t be greedy, darling,” he husks with a teasing tap to your nose.

Your eyes cautiously slide open. Lips still pursed, head still swimming. “What was that all about,” you breathe into the space between your mouths.

Astarion chuckles, all fangs and mirth. You follow his gaze skyward, a blur of forest green and red nestled between the space of your lashes. Slowly, the distortion works itself into discernable shapes. You laugh at the telltale plant dangling above your head. Held by him.

“Mistletoe,” he croons as if it’s the most obvious thing.

You giggle, your nose brushing along the peak of his whilst you draw him in to press your foreheads together.

The time eases by with you sitting together by the fireplace, your cheek resting on Astarion’s shoulder as you regale stories of a childhood once passed. Hardly notice when you’re beckoned to sleep by the pretty girls of slumber.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #softstarion #bg3 fluff #astarion fluff #mutual pining #friends to lovers #christmas fluff #christmas fic #holiday fic #astarion x gn reader #tw: alcohol #tw: profanity

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for talking about my fights with my partner with other people?

I (18M) and my partner (17NB) have been together for a couple of years now. Like most couples, we've had our fair share of fights, some of them very serious. I have a problem with paranoia over if I'm doing the right thing or not, because I have trouble understanding right and wrong unless I've been through a situation myself or had the morality of it very heavily explained to me. Because of this, during several of our heavier fights, I would go to people that I trusted and show them the conversation from beginning to end through screenshots (me and my partner are long distance at the moment, so most of our fights have been over text), and ask them if I was alright or I was being a dick.

However, over time, this caused most of the people I was close to to hate my partner. Several of them believed my partner was abusive or at least toxic because of the fights they saw, and at least one was outright violently angry towards them, publicly making a post about wanting to hurt them (I apologized to my partner for this, and asked repeatedly that this person take the post down, made it very clear I wasn't okay with that, but they kept it up anyways.)

I tried to change their opinions by highlighting positive things about them, and repeatedly making clear the things I knew I had done wrong to them so it was clear any toxicity wasn't one-sided (please don't even try to question if I was really bad or anything like that. Had it happen before. Yes what I did was actually wrong. I have apologized and been working on it for a long time now, and debating if it was really wrong will not be helpful or wanted.) But even so, even now, everyone who knew even parts of me and my partners problems still hate them.

My partner has made clear to me that this hurt them. It made them feel isolated, and very alone. Because I had people backing me up and people to talk to, and those people hated them, while they didn't have access to therapy (which I also had at the time, and also do now) or people to talk to about it at the time.

I've apologized for that, and long since stopped telling anyone about our fights or problems. Partially because I found out it was hurting them, and partially because a few months after I had started doing that in the first place, things took a turn for the worse in our relationship and I always either didn't feel comfortable showing people what was happening anymore, or when I did, I ended up being asked to stop by the people I spoke to because what was going on was too heavy and often triggering for them to handle, which I respected. I also didn't have access to therapy for a while because I had just made a major move and my old therapist wasn't licensed to treat people in the area I'd moved to.

However, more recently, I opened up to both my therapist and my mother about everything that happened. Unlike with before, both of them got the full story, from the start of our relationship to now. I made sure to include everything I had done wrong (that I either figured out on my own or my partner told me about, I do worry that there's other things that I don't even know about yet) so that I didn't paint myself in a better light than reality. My therapist cried when I told her. Not full on crying or sobbing, but I could see the tears in her eyes the entire session. My mother was very angry. Both of them think it's for the best we break up. My therapist agreed it's toxic, which I know it still is, although I've been doing my best to make the relationship more healthy over time. She didn't outright say the words, but when I told her what my mother had to say about it, it was clear that she agreed with her that it was abusive. She wasn't angry the way my mother was, or as insistent about me breaking up with them, but she didn't think this relationship or this person in general was healthy towards me.

My mother, however, was almost violently angry. There was several parts of the story where she clenched her fists or had to pause to calm down. On top of that, when I brought up my partners disorder (it was heavily relevant to a large part of the story, as knowing they had it was necessary to really explain what happened for many parts of it), she started repeatedly telling me that she believed they're faking to manipulate me, and that "based on her years of research that wasn't how the disorder worked" (her "years of research" was an introductory college psych class over a decade ago, which barely mentions the disorder in question, so I don't trust that at all). This made me worry even more that I was being an asshole by sharing this, because I know firsthand how much it sucks to have someone not believe you about your own mental health. Not to mention, I have a similar disorder myself, so it felt wrong the way she talked about their disorder (I brought this up but she said it was different and she believes me, just not them. I'm pretty sure that's mostly because I'm diagnosed, and they aren't, due to not being able to get therapy). She also wouldn't believe they didn't have access to therapy because they live in a place with free healthcare, and didn't seem to understand that doesn't always apply to mental healthcare, especially when they're a minor and their parent won't get them therapy even when asked.

However, the reactions from both my mother and my therapist has made me start to question if telling people about our fights was really an asshole move in the first place. On the one hand, I know it hurt them, and that I hurt them in other ways on top of that. But on the other, if even middle aged adults, including one with a psychology degree, think it's so bad on their end, maybe telling them was a good thing. I don't want anyone to hate my partner, especially not when I know I was also toxic towards them and I don't feel like it's fair to treat them like they're so much worse than me, especially when my partner has said to me that I abused them (this was also shared to mother + therapist). But the way these recent events have gone have left me confused, and feeling like a giant asshole towards my partner all over again. So am I one for this?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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plotbunny-bundle · 4 months

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Bruce having his morning coffee looking out the window: "Is that a fucking peacock?"

I made this with https://fakechatmaker.com and microsoft paint

attempt at an image description and more legible text under the cut.

Image description

[a fake screenshot of an unlabeled discord chat. The time marked at the top of the fake screenshot is 9:26 AM.

An image of a peacock standing on grass. A person without an icon labeled Me, implied to be Bruce Wayne comments “Apparently we have a peacock”. The time of this comment is labeled as 7:54 AM.

A person labeled Robin III with an icon of an overhead view of the Gotham skyline replies “oh you found it”

An icon of a black and yellow flashlight labeled The Signal replies “was that not normal fake rich people shit?” Then corrects himself to “stuff” with an Asterix.

Batgirl 3.0 who has an icon that is a block of purple replies “OMG did Damian steal it from Penguin or something?”

Me(Bruce Wayne): “language.”

The Signal: “sorry”

Nightwing whose icon is a comic panel of Nightwing eating popcorn comments “B I don’t think this is an appropriate place to be having this discussion.”

Me replies “My front yard is not an appropriate place for a peacock.”

Robin III comments “@Batgirl 3.0 He did. Exotic animal trafficking raid. About a week and a half ago.”

Me asks “how long has that animal been in my house?”

Robin IV: “he is not an animal! He is a majestic peafowl who deserves more than to live life in a cage!” Robin IV’s icon is the Robin symbol associated with Damian Wayne.

Red Hood whose icon is a brick wall comments “WHO IS BLOWING UP THE GROUP CHAT AT EIGHT IN THE FUCKING MORNING!” in all caps.

Me: “language.” Red Hood responds with an emoji of the middle finger.

Nightwing: “Guys let’s calm down. It’s just morning and we were all up late last night.”

The Signal: “I wasn’t.

Batgirl 2 whose icon is a yellow Bat symbol over a black background. Asks “cute what’s its name?”

Robin IV: “His name is Richard”.

Batgirl 3.0: “LMAO”

Nightwing: “excuse me!?”

Robin III replies with a crying laughing emoji.

Red Hood: “Ha that’s perfect. Hold on.”

Robin IV: “it isn’t an insult you imbeciles! The peafowl is a majestic animal that represents the beauty and grace of the flying Graysons!”

13 minutes later Red Hood replies by posting a black-and-white picture of Nightwing in his discowing costume.

The Signal replies with two crying laughing emojis.

Batgirl 3.0 replies “what is that?”

Robin III: “Nightwing’s first costume. It was Acrobat inspired. It’s not as bad as the mullet.”

Batgirl 3.0: “Oh I have to see that.”

Robin III: “give me a moment. I’ll find a photo.”

Nightwing: “don’t dish out what you can’t take little brothers. B has footage of both your first weeks as Robin.”

Robin III: “which means he has footage of you to Dick”

Nightwing: “Caroline. Hill.”

Robin III: “you wouldn’t.”

Nightwing: “you have no idea what I do.”

Red Hood: “I change my mind. It is still worth getting woken up at ass a.m. for this.”

Robin III: “really? Look at your eighth grade textbooks in a while? I wonder if Rena is still around.”

Me (Bruce Wayne) : “enough. Tim Dick stop blackmailing your brothers. Damien you will find a rescue for Richard. We will not be keeping him. Everyone else next time you see a strange animal in the manner tell me or Alfred as soon as you can.”

Robin IV :“yes father.”

The Signal : “well that was an interesting way to start the day.” The time of last comment is 9:25 AM

End ID]

#Jason gets his blackmail from newpapers #Tim and Dick have primary sources #batfam #batfamily #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #duke thomas #jason todd #cassandra cain #I was going to do a punchline of there being another peacock but it was already so long #batdad #long post

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ultra-raging-ghost · 12 days

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I REACHED POST LIMIT SO HERES MY POST FROM 9:20 ONWARD

"Goodbye my three little ones, your father has to go"

"Im sorry chat, i guess ill just speak from the heart. the way i lost dapper and pomme i dont think i really.. had time to process, so losing him like this feels like losing all three of them at the same time"

Visiting bagis... poor zeno fucking died to a rooster LMAO i missed bagis place so fucking bad

searching for pepito.... where is my baby.... where is my little pepito, there pepito is

Bad doesnt really know what to do with himself, hes still sad but richas is like. Officially gone. Which is a crazy thing to process. I was having a hard time dealing with it but i think richas' final goodbye made me feel a lot better about it,it doesnt feel like theres a nail in the back of my brain now, im a little more content with this at least. Wont really be happy about it, but more content with it

We're gonna go leave a richas flower (blue orchid) at bagi's old base <3 just like how we left a cornflower at a place special to pomme.

hehehe agent 18/panks_ is in chat and theyre tormenting bad for fun

Offering pepito the opportunity to visit one last place, bad plans on coming back and visiting a couple final places sometime soon, not tonight but soon. Probably gonna end after pepito picks where to go

pepito cant think of anywhere, bads picking one more place to go

PEPITO TIME AT THE OFFICIAL DAPPER TIME SPOT??? LETS GOOOOO

Pepitos gonna be temporarily dapper while in the official dapper time spot <333

bads back, i got so comfortable in the old house that i forgot we have to leave. Just a wave of sadness washed over me, it feels like leaving home all over again, it feels like we should be able to walk into the old spawn from dappers train station and see pierre and pomme and etoiles again

pomme in chat... assuring bad she and dapper wont be leaving any time soon. Bad promises us he has some really fun stuff hes been working on he thinks we'll enjoy, this journey isnt over

while waiting for pepito we're reminiscing on when he had to triangulate the Dont have Your Gun thing that was playing that he couldnt find LMAO

currently visiting the old subway bad was building with dapper underground.... the new terrain generation generated a FULL end city RIGHT next to it!!!!

gonna visit bobby fields another day, thats another day issue, but dapper wanted to go see it with him lol

Bad found out Lullah and Richas were leaving yesterday, sounds like he didnt know chay was leaving till today

BOOOOOOOO BOOOOOO BOO IS HERE!!!! HELLO BOO!!!!!!

Pepitos playing around in the balloons Boo left <33

Bad: Yeah i remember when pomme and dapper came in one of these end cities and scared the muffins out of me Pomme: ?????? Pomme: bro you were dead Bad: I STILL REMEMBER.......

We're gonna go play Wordlos (or however you spell it) one last time before leaving the old spawn <3 gonna see if we can get it to work!!!

kinda works!!! Kinda!!! It mostly works!!!! gonna play!!!!!

"I am so proud of your spanish uncle bad!!! its a great advance to know how to explain something, its the most important thing"

We're looking at the paintings, this is it for the day. Richas logged off with bads statue painting so hes probably never gonna see that again LMAO "thats why we get screenshots"

Pepitos saying a little goodnight to the ghosties <33 pepitos gonna eat all of us up because we're so cute. "I see everything, too. EVERYTHIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG". Pepitos telling us to rest, eat, and drink water, and do our favorite things. We deserve it, to remember not to be sad it ended but be happy it happened at all <3

Bads planning on streaming tomorrow, hes not 100% sure what we'll be doing but he isnt gonna let this crank his steam

Pepitos planning on getting on tomorrow! or whenever! pepito doesnt know when pepito gets on LMAO

Thats all for todays stream, ending at 10:15, goodnight bad, richas, pomme, and dapper <3

#qsmp #liveblogging

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nicki0kaye · 11 days

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talking to ppl in my discord and out of nowhere I send them this screenshot of my Kalluzeb ref page;

and say "love how they just folded down the top of his boots and painted them brown when he joined the rebellion" which has spawned the following pseudo-fic; There's an odd turn of phrase within the Rebellion; ex-Imps discard everything but the shoes.

Kallus, much to his chagrin, proves this rule true, though most won't know it from a glance. That's Sabine's influence, no stroke of genius on his part. She was the one who suggested the brown varnish, when he bemoaned his assumption he'd have to part with them. She told it to him, with a smirk. "Ex-Imps discard everything but the shoes." The more he socialized with his fellow defectors, the more clear the saying reflected a strange reality. And then some idiot got it in their heads that it meant Imperial boots were some paragon of quality and the last week of intel has been polluted with random mentions of Imperials found dead and bootless by patrols and comm chatter from rebels bemoaning how they were lied to; these boots aren't comfortable at all!

"It's idiotic on two fronts," Kallus says, well and truly into a rant now, and nearly red down to his neck over it, "because of course the boots won't be comfortable; they're worn in by an entirely different pair of feet. Unless by some miracle they have the same arch and toe placement as the poor bastard they offed for them, they'll have to break them in same as their previous owners, and that takes standard months, and that's not even the worst of it." "Wha's the 'worst of it'?" Zeb asks with the air of someone both attempting to be supportive and also deeply amused by the mental spiral he's getting to witness. "The shoes were never comfortable in the first place!" Zeb almost drops the food half way to his mouth. "They--what? Hol' on, then why the hells do you keep 'em?"

"The shoes are comfortable in comparison to everything else," Kallus says. "And I still remember the hell that was breaking this pair in; the blisters, the cramps--I'm not doing that again! Not until these fall apart." Zeb makes a face and not so subtly pushes his meal away. "Did my talk of shoes put you off your meal?" Kallus asks with a bit of a snear. "What ya humans do to your feet is barbaric," Zeb says in a voice so serious and grave, Kallus can't help but laugh.

#kallus #garazeb #nik v sw #sw fic #sw

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avaantares · 6 months

Text

Wait, Zhao Yunlan's gun is actually a...?!

(I've never claimed production meta for @guardianbingo before, but after the amount of time and research I put in on this, I feel like I've earned the "Zhao Yunlan's Gun or Whip" square, haha)

SO. GUYS.

Maybe this is something fandom as a whole figured out back in 2018, but I, who didn't hear of Guardian until 2020, did not realize until now and I need to share the knowledge because when I finally noticed, I made an unholy sound.

I've tracked down where Zhao Yunlan's gun came from -- or at least, what it most likely started as. Not the in-universe dark-energy-maybe-uses-bullets-maybe-doesn't-device-that's-best-not-thought-about-too-long, but rather the actual fake-steampunk-revolver-that-is-best-not-looked-at-too-long-because-it's-awful prop.

Y'know, this disaster:

I was actually working on a different Guardian Bingo fill and needed to look something up for continuity, so I'd flipped through a couple of episodes at super high speed trying to find a scene. As luck would have it, one of my skips forward happened to land on the scene I screencapped above, when ZYL confronts Zhang Shi.

Normally we don't get this clear (or this stationary) a shot of the godawful gun prop. I'd assumed all along they had just taken a plastic gun, glued some extra bits and bobs on it to make it look fancy, and hit it with some dry brushing (fun fact: you can watch the paint flake throughout the series; check out the top of the barrel and the side of the cylinder in the above screenshot!) to make it look #steampunk like the abandoned aesthetic of 25% of the show (as I've said before, I have theories about what happened in preproduction, but that's another post). This sort of thing is exactly what I've done for cheap cosplay weapons or background props for film work that aren't going to be seen at HD detail range.

Anyway, since the detail showed up better here than in other shots, I paused the video to look at the random screws and hex bolts (why??) they'd glued on it, since I recalled that I had the aforementioned gun/whip bingo square to fill.

That's when I noticed a detail that had eluded me before: An inverted V shape at the bottom of the grip.

Only looking more closely, that's not an inverted V. It's a symbol that I've seen a whole series of variations of over the past 15+ years... every time there's a new installment of the Assassin's Creed video game series:

So I started hunting. The principal weapons in each game turned up no matches, but eventually I found a gun that looks almost exactly like ZYL's:

It's not a perfect replica, but the details are certainly all there: The stylized logo; the leaves and swirls on the grip; the feathers up the back; even the Victorian scrollwork beneath the barrel.

Now, what's really interesting is that this gun isn't actually from the AC game series. It's part of an elaborate fan project by artist David Paget that started as a class assignment back in 2014. Even though it gathered a bit of steam in the AC fandom and generated a couple of forum role-play groups, OCs and the like, nothing about this artwork was ever connected to a real Assassin's Creed title. So why would there be a physical version of a gun that was only someone's fanart?

This is where the smoking gun (*rimshot*) goes missing, because I can't prove any of this, and it's been long enough that digging through the archives of the internet to find answers is going to take way more time than I can afford to spend on a project I'm not getting paid for. But there are two likely possibilities:

Scenario A: Some employee in a toy factory somewhere in China got told, "This Assassin's Creed franchise is really big, so we need to be producing replicas from those games to sell. Work up some designs." So the employee Googles "assassin's creed gun," finds David Paget's very professional-looking art, and whips up a replica to mass-injection-mold without realizing it's not actually from a game. Later, someone on the cash-strapped Guardian production team needs a gun to mod, and finds a cheap toy revolver on clearance after several years of sitting in storage because there was little demand for a replica of a gun that was never in a game. They buy several, glue hex bolts on the cylinder for reasons unknown, and poof! Instant pseudo-steampunk!

Scenario B: Other fans were involved in the design. Someone did build a 3D model of David Paget's design that's still available on Sketchfab (screenshot below), and it's not unreasonable to assume that other fans could have thought it looked cool and built 3D printable models. Later, someone on the cash-strapped Guardian production team needs a gun to mod, and acquires the 3D print file of one of those models from the interwebs. They mod the file a bit, print some, glue hex bolts on the cylinder for reasons unknown, and poof! Instant pseudo-steampunk!

Personally, I find Scenario A far more likely than Scenario B, for two reasons: First, the hero prop looks more injection molded than 3D printed, especially given the technical state of 3D printing back in 2017-8. And second... Budget-challenged dramas do have a history of picking up bulk video game replicas and using them as cheap props. I made a post back in 2019 about the WoW Horde shields we spotted in a different drama...

Anyway, no firm answers about the source of the hero prop -- the world may never know! -- but we have now confirmed that in some alternate universe (possibly one of the first eighty?), Zhao Yunlan and/or Zhao Xinci is an Assassin.

Wait, wait, wait... *recalls mechanics of how the whole Assassin's Creed frame story is supposed to work* Uh... so... who wants to write a genetic memory explanation for the whole Kunlun -> [lots of lifetimes] -> Zhao Yunlan thing?

(I did actually check the catalogue of a friend of mine who makes replicas of props from various media franchises to see if he'd done a commission of the David Paget design, since a surprising number of his custom pieces actually do end up on film and television, but while he has a gorgeous replica of a revolver that actually appears in an AC game, it appears he has not done the Zhao Yunlan gun. I didn't really think it likely, since he's in the U.S., but you never know.)

#guardian #zhen hun #c-drama #guardian bingo #assassin's creed #tv props #it's always fun when my various hats end up stacked on top of one another

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 6 months

Text

Chapter 11

Note: Bass Player chapter 11! Chapter 10 here! song mentioned in the fic: Tumult by Stone Sour.

Warnings: angst/fluff. brief mention of (attempted) suicide, alcohol abuse and self inflicted pain.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: The intimate video Sihtric had shared caused trouble.

wordcount: 5k

Masterlist

'You know I hate this shit!'

The TV performance of Seven Kings was almost a week ago now, and Sihtric was home again. You still couldn't get over how insanely hot your boyfriend had looked during that performance, and you found yourself saving one photo after the other when you scrolled through your socials. You kept seeing screenshots and gifs of the moment the camera zoomed in on him playing the bass just as he looked into the camera, smiled and blew a kiss, which you knew was meant for you, but had thousands of fans lose their mind over it.

You and Gisela had watched the performance together, as per usual, and even your friend couldn't deny how good Sihtric looked. He always played the bass so nonchalantly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. And he looked so effortlessly good, playing his neon green bass with his black and pink painted nails, all while wearing black leather pants and leather boots. His slutty black fishnet top showed of his nipple piercings, and the Hello Kitty choker you had gifted him was around his neck, which he had combined with some soft pink coloured Hello Kitty shades, which you had never seen before and he apparently scored somewhere at the airport along with a Hello Kitty travel pillow. And just when you thought your boy couldn't get any hotter, or cuter for that matter, you saw that he had placed the Hello Kitty plushie you had given him on his bass amplifier, in the background.

To your pleasure Sihtric had texted you numerous sexy selfies before and after the performance. And while he was sleeping next to you now, you decided you wanted to share one of the selfies on your insta story, and tag him so he could post it on his story if he wanted to, with your name attached to it. And that's when you noticed Sihtric's instagram account was gone. It didn't take long before Sihtric woke up too and you told him about his missing page, which turned out to be a result of posting that clip of you two in the bedroom about a week ago.

'So you didn't mind that I posted that?' Sihtric asked after he had filed a complaint to retrieve his page.

'I didn't really mind it that much, but maybe next time you can share something that's a little less… intimate?' you said, 'I'm not mad about it, but the whole reason I agreed to make that video was because it was meant for just you and me, you know?'

Sihtric understood your point and agreed he had been a little impulsive by sharing that video, but he had no regrets. Not even now that he was banned from instagram for the time being. It had stirred up some tension in the band though, you found out.

Uhtred was used to being the one most "popular member", but after Sihtric had shared that video, he had surpassed Uhtred's follower count. And the lead singer's ego was hurt because of it. Uhtred probably enjoyed the fact that the bass player's account was gone, which meant he was the member with the most followers again now. It was ridiculous, but fame does that to people, you thought.

Another impulsive thing your boyfriend had done while he was in America, was getting a tattoo for you, just because he missed you. Before you fell asleep, after making that video together, you had left him a handwritten note in an envelope on his suitcase so he'd find it in the morning, and you had marked the envelope with a red lipstick kiss. Sihtric had kept the envelope close during his travels, and then decided he wanted to get your lips tattooed on his chest, near his heart. You were shocked at the reveal once he was back home again, but you couldn't deny that you loved it at the same time. Sihtric said you had really claimed him now, even if the tattoo was a bit cheesy.

And now that the band members didn't struggle with jetlag anymore, Sihtric was often recording in the studio with the guys, while you still went to your shitty job for the last few weeks. That's right, you finally had gathered the courage to quit, you just had to work until the end of the month. Sihtric had been over the moon when you told him you accepted the contract Ragnar had offered you, and therefore you suddenly became a part of the band's crew. Never in your wildest dreams did you think something like this would happen; you now worked for your favourite band. Your boyfriend's band.

And the next thing on your schedule, after the last working day at that horrible customer service job, was to join Sihtric to a video shoot for their upcoming single, which was called Tumult.

Sihtric already warned you about the concept of the music video they were shooting, and he hated it as much as you did. For some reason the director had the idea to have each member play their part of the song separately, which made sense as each member has their own stand out moment in the song, but the director also wanted some hot women to dance around them and touch them seductively as they played their instruments. Sihtric had already made it very clear to the rest of the band, and to Ragnar, that he didn't understand why they needed half naked ladies in their videos nor why they should be touched up by them.

'This is not what that song is about,' Sihtric said, 'and this is not what our music is about.'

'Sex sells, Sihtric,' Uhtred shrugged as he checked out one of the pretty ladies as she walked by, 'you should know it,' he mumbled under his breath.

'What?' Sihtric asked, not quite sure if he heard the sneer right, but Uhtred ignored him.

Apparently Uhtred had been pushing the concept of the director, despite the rest of the band being a little unsure about it. Even Ragnar advised against it, but as Uhtred was the lead singer, it was his way or the highway. Uhtred had been bitter about the attention Sihtric received after sharing the intimate video, and figured this was a way for him to become the centre of attention again. And to get girls.

Sihtric sighed as he watched Uhtred show off while there were ladies all over him during his shoot, and then sulked towards you, off set, and told you again how he really didn't like any of this. You understood it was part of the job, but agreed the whole concept made no sense. You were glad Sihtric asked you to stay during shooting, which gave you a sense of security, but it also made you very uncomfortable.

You sat back when your boyfriend was called on set for his scenes, and you watched him play that neon green bass as he stood in front of an all white backdrop. He was shirtless, showing off his ripped body, his piercings and the tattoo of your lips on his heart. His black skinny jeans were tucked in green Doctor Martens, which matched his bass guitar, and his hair was loose and wild looking. But as hot as he looked, you couldn't help notice how uncomfortable he was. It didn't help that the director asked Sihtric to take off his leather bracelet, the matching one he had with you, which he reluctantly took it off and handed to you without meeting your eyes. He mumbled an 'I'm sorry, love,' and then returned to the mark on the floor that told him where to stand and play.

As Sihtric played the bass along with the music of his band again, the hired women danced around him and the director gave one of the ladies directions as the camera rolled. She was told to get closer to him, which she happily did, and eventually you watched her hands trail down your boyfriend's shoulders. Sihtric flinched at the sudden touch and the director told everyone to stop.

'Cut! What is going on with you?' the director asked as he walked over to Sihtric, 'I don't know what the issue is here, but you gotta give me more than this.'

Sihtric didn't speak, instead he looked down at his feet and clenched his jaw.

'Enjoy it, man,' the director continued, 'there's hot girls dancing around you and one all over you, what's not to like?' the man laughed and slapped Sihtric's shoulder, 'okay, everyone back in position!'

You felt your stomach turn when you saw the empty look in Sihtric's eyes as he feigned a smile while they rolled the cameras again, and you weren't the only one who noticed how insincere it was. After about a minute you heard the director yell 'cut!' again, and he ran over to the love of your life.

'Sihtric,' the director said, annoyed, 'you have to give me more!'

Sihtric again didn't speak. Instead, he inhaled deeply and looked at you for a second, then back at the ground to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes. The director turned to the girl who was supposed to be all over your boyfriend, and gave her more directions on what to do, and Sihtric listened closely as he kept quiet.

'I- I don't want this,' Sihtric then said, but the director either didn't hear him or simply ignored him.

'It would be really great if you could kiss his chest,' the director told the girl as he pointed at Sihtric's recent ink, 'we can make it look like that tattoo is your lipstick stain. Kiss him all over to leave lipstick marks, okay?'

'No,' Sihtric tried to interrupt, 't-the tattoo is for my girl, I don't want-'

'It will look really hot, okay, buddy?' the director cut him off, 'it's all just pretending.'

'But I- I don't want this,' Sihtric said again, and was once again ignored, 'I'm not okay with-'

'Okay, every back in position!' the director yelled as he returned to his chair, 'come on, pretty boy!' he yelled at Sihtric, 'okay, three, two, one, and… action!'

You hadn't heard the conversation as you were too far away, so with your stomach in a knot you watched how the pretty dancer raked her fingers through Sihtric's hair as he played his guitar. You understood it was just acting, but that didn't mean it didn't upset you, you just tried your best to keep it together as you did not want to be that kind of girlfriend.

However, you fell apart when you saw how the girl suddenly planted her lips on Sihtric's chest, on his tattoo, and then continued to kiss him all over his chest and shoulders, leaving red lipstick stains on his skin while Sihtric looked deeply uncomfortable. You swallowed hard but your mouth had gone completely dry. Sihtric had shown you the script for the video the night before, and you were sure it nowhere said that he would be kissed in any way. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to keep a straight face, but you felt your left eye twitch and your lower lip trembled. Then, as if it couldn't get any worse, the girl listened to the director's guidance and she grabbed Sihtric's face. Before Sihtric realised what happened, she had her lips planted on his and dragged her mouth down his chin. Your heart skipped several beats as the air was punched out of your lungs, and you broke down in tears as soon as you turned on your heels and walked off set, as quietly as you could. You didn't blame Sihtric for this, as you saw how unhappy he was too, but you just couldn't watch it anymore and pretend you were okay with it.

As your vision was blurred by your tears, you never saw how Sihtric gave the girl a harsh shove right after she kissed him without his consent. She tripped in her high heels and fell on her barely covered up ass as a result of his shove, and the director yelled 'cut!' again while he ran up to her. The other band members watched the scene unfold with their jaws dropped.

'What the fuck is wrong with you?!' Sihtric shouted at the girl, while you had already left out the door, into the dressing room. 'Who the fuck do you think you are?!' he yelled, then looked at the director as he helped the girl up, 'I never agreed to that!'

'Jesus, calm down,' the director huffed.

'Don't tell me to fucking calm down!' Sihtric hissed and got up in the director's face, 'this was not in the script! I would never agree to this fucking bullshit! I don't want to be touched! Not when my fucking girl is right there-'

Sihtric's breath hitched in his throat when he saw your seat was empty, and you were nowhere to be found.

'Oh, come on,' Uhtred howled, 'we all let the girls kiss us.'

Osferth and Finan kept their mouths shut. They indeed didn't mind kissing the pretty ladies, but then they were both single and completely understood why Sihtric didn't want any of it.

'Fuck,' Sihtric gasped as he felt a sudden panic rise inside his chest when he didn't see you anywhere, 'n-no,' he mumbled to himself and raked his hand through his messy hair as a look of despair settled on his face.

You had left. You had seen him kiss another girl and now you were gone. Sihtric figured you were furious and felt cheated on, and he couldn't blame you, even if he didn't want or had expected this to happen himself. He thought you didn't just walk out of the room, but completely walked out of his life.

Sihtric took off his bass guitar and, without thinking, threw the neon coloured instrument on the ground as he ran towards the only door in the room, desperate to find you. Everyone stared at each other, surprised and shocked at the outburst of the usually rather calm and collected bass player.

You had made yourself small in the large dressing room, which was basically just a locker room. You sat behind the first row of lockers, not deliberately hiding but also not wanting others to see how upset you were. You heard someone storm in the room, and a split second later you heard Sihtric's voice laced with panic.

'Baby?' he called as he looked around the seemingly empty room, 'no, no, no,' he whispered as he stepped through the room, 'fuck!' he then yelled, and you heard him kick against a locker.

His heavy panting filled the room, while you kept quiet. You didn't want him to see you like this, as you feared he'd think you were overreacting, so you wiped your tears and took a few deep breaths. But then, just as you wanted to get up and step around the corner, towards Sihtric, you heard the door open again. You froze when you heard Uhtred's voice, and decided to not make your presence known.

'What are you doing?' Uhtred asked Sihtric, agitated.

'What am I doing?' Sihtric snarled, 'what the fuck are we doing?!'

'What do you mean?' Uhtred scoffed.

'You know I hate this shit!' Sihtric yelled, 'why do we need girls in our music videos? Since when is our music about that? Since when do we need that? You say sex sells, and sure it does, but we don't have to sell our band anymore, do we? We are an established name already! We don't need this stupid bullshit! And now, because of it, my girl ran off and I don't know where she went!'

'Hey,' Uhtred got up in Sihtric's face, 'if you don't like this, then leave! It's part of the job!'

'Except it's not!' your boyfriend shouted, 'we were never about this! You just… you fucking sold out, man!'

'I sold out? I did?' Uhtred scoffed, 'I'm not the one who is posting half of a sex tape online. And then you have issues with this? Pick your battles, man.'

'So that's what this is about?' Sihtric huffed, 'you're just fucking jealous that not all eyes are on you anymore? You can have it, Uhtred! I don't care about the attention! That is not why I'm in a band!'

'Whatever,' Uhtred snapped, 'stay or go, Sihtric, I don't care. But you better have your mind made up when you get back on set.'

'I'm not coming back until I find my girl,' Sihtric hissed, just as Finan entered the dressing room.

'Fine,' Uhtred said, nonchalantly, 'maybe this life isn't for you anymore'

'You don't mean that,' Finan said as he got in between the two hot headed men, 'and you don't mean that either,' he looked at Sihtric.

'What? The life of whoring around?' Sihtric scoffed and ignored the Irish man, 'you're right, it's not for me anymore!'

'Oh, please,' Uhtred groaned, 'those girls are only acting!'

'Sure, like you don't plan on banging half of them after the shoot,' Sihtric grimaced.

'And what if I am?' Uhtred asked, 'maybe you should too.'

'Fuck you!' Sihtric gave Uhtred a hard shove, 'I'm not a cheater, unlike you!'

'Then go and find your woman,' Uhtred shrugged, 'find her and leave.'

'I will! If this is the direction you're taking Seven Kings in, then I'm done.'

'No!' Finan yelled, 'guys, come on!'

'Fine, then go,' Uhtred said, once again ignoring Finan.

Sihtric and Uhtred stared at each other with rage in their eyes. Then Ragnar and Osferth entered the room, all while you listened from behind the corner and trembled on your legs.

'No!' Finan said again, 'Sihtric can't leave. We need him,' he said to Uhtred, then looked at Sihtric, 'and you need us, Sihtric. You need the music and we need you. You can't just go like that.'

'No, he can go,' Uhtred shrugged again, 'he prioritises his lady over the band,' he scoffed, 'he's so afraid to end up single again, it's pathetic.'

Sihtric stared at Uhtred, his jaw clenched as he fought his tears.

'I'd rather try and fucking kill myself again than losing my woman over this stupid shit,' Sihtric spat.

'Again?' Uhtred frowned.

'Wait, what?' Finan said, 'w-what do you mean?'

Osferth and Finan exchanged concerned looks, while Uhtred kept staring at Sihtric, and Sihtric looked at Ragnar.

'I… I didn't tell them,' Ragnar confessed.

'What?' Sihtric said, 'I thought you told-'

'What?' Finan interrupted, concerned, 'told us what?!'

Sihtric swallowed hard and looked down at his feet as he tried to find the right words, but the manager was quick to take the burden upon him, as he had promised he would but never did.

'Sihtric… he, he attempted,' Ragnar stammered, 'he had plans to… to end his life a little while ago, after the first show you guys did.'

'What?' all the members gasped.

'H-how?' Osferth blurted out.

'My apartment is a long way up,' Sihtric said softly, avoiding eye contact.

This was the first time you heard how Sihtric had planned on doing it. He didn't want to tell you when he first opened up to you, when he told you how you had saved him that night. And now there it was, the whole truth. You desperately tried to hold your tears, but you sobbed like a child while you tried to stay quiet.

'Are you fucking serious?' Finan asked, 'what… I mean, I'm glad you're here, but what stopped you?'

Sihtric shook his head lightly as he continued to keep his head down, still fighting his tears.

'His… his girl did,' Ragnar said, compassionately, 'why do you think I allowed her on board with us? He needs her. And I told you guys this video was a stupid fucking idea, even if you were all single, but you,' he looked at Uhtred, 'you just kept pushing it.'

Everyone stayed quiet after the manager spilled some harsh truths in a short time. Sihtric sniffled and wiped away a tear while the other members tried to grasp all the information they just got dumped on them.

'Did you take your meds?' Ragnar asked Sihtric quietly.

'Yeah,' Sihtric said hoarsely, 'look,' he cleared his throat and sniffled again, 'I'm done here. I… I need to find… I have to find her. And I just- I- I, it's like I don't know you guys anymore,' he said and took a few steps back.

'Yeah, well,' Uhtred snapped, 'we don't know you anymore! Rockstars don't settle down!'

'They do!' Sihtric yelled, 'and maybe you should try it sometime! So you can finally understand that all this fame and money is fucking useless if you have no one by your side at the end of the day who makes you happy!'

'Whatever,' Uhtred sighed and waved his hand degradingly, 'go have a drink, Sihtric,' he sneered, 'I liked you better when you were still a drunk.'

'Fuck you!' Sihtric snarled and gave Uhtred another hard shove, 'fuck you! You know that shit almost killed me several times!'

Before the other men could blink, Uhtred and Sihtric were throwing punches at each other. Finan and Ragnar tried to break the two men up, but there was barely any stopping them. You couldn't take it anymore and stepped around the corner.

'Stop it!' you suddenly yelled as you cried, and everyone froze when they saw you.

'H-how can you say such things!?' you yelled at Uhtred, who froze up mid swing as he wanted to punch the bass player in his face, who had his own fist near the lead singer's face.

You looked at all the men before you continued.

'What kind of friend are you?' you looked back at Uhtred.

Everyone stared at you and then Sihtric dropped his fist. He let go of Uhtred, and with a soft whine he ran towards you, across the room. You wrapped your arms around him as he did the same, and then Ragnar was the one to break the silence.

'I… I think it's best if Sihtric has the rest of the day off,' he looked at you, 'he needs some time to think. Meanwhile,' he looked at the other members, 'we will continue the video shoot. We should just get this over with so we can all go back home again as soon as possible.'

You and Sihtric had gone home while the rest of the band tried to continue their video shoot, unsure about the future of the band. You sat on the roof terrace, Sihtric leaned into you as you had your arm around him and you watched him light up one cigarette after the other, taking long drags while his hands still trembled.

'You shouldn't make a choice this rash, baby,' you said softly, 'you really have to think about this.'

'I'm done, love,' Sihtric sighed, 'I'm just done with Uhtred's bullshit, and I don't want you to be hurt by the choices he makes for us.'

'Please, just think about it. I didn't walk away from the set because I was mad at you,' you reassured him, 'I didn't walk out because I want to walk out on you. Never. It just hurted to see a girl all over you like that.'

'I know, and I'm sorry,' Sihtric said, 'it made me sick too.'

'I know. I could tell you weren't happy at all, which also broke my heart,' you said, 'but this video, I understand it's… it's what people want to see these days, I guess. And I know it's not something you wanted either.'

'Do you want to see it?' Sihtric asked, 'as a fan, I mean. Even if we wouldn't know each other? Would you want to see a video like that?'

You thought about his question for a moment as you remembered what your life was like before Sihtric commented on your instagram post. Before this all started.

'Not… not really,' you admitted, 'I know a lot of fans will be bitter and jealous of those girls in the video. Honestly, things like that may not work in a band's favour. As ridiculous as it sounds, it can put fans off. I know it's the same with you and me, what you posted on your instagram riled up some people in a fun way, but I know for a fact it has cost you fans too. Some fans are dedicated to the bone and so loyal, until they realise they truly do not have a chance with you. Or any other member. Then they will just drop you like an old toy and go on to find the next best thing. I'm not saying a video like this will ruin your career, not at all, but for a lot of people… it's not what they want. I mean, as a fan myself,' you said, 'which I still am, despite everything I have with you, this video would leave me unsatisfied. Because it's so not like you guys. I'm not saying don't do it, but, yeah…'

'I know,' Sihtric mumbled, 'I know it's not like us. But lately Uhtred has been pushing to take the band in a different direction, and I don't like it.'

'What about the others? Finan and Osferth?'

'They aren't fully behind it either,' Sihtric said and lit another cigarette, 'they voiced their concern too, but Uhtred won't stray from his ideas. I've been struggling with this for a long time already, even before we met. I love my job, I love the music we make and I love the guys. But I don't love the vision anymore. I wrote a lot of music and lyrics for the band, but Uhtred dismisses every idea lately. I don't know why but… I'm just sick of it. What's the point of being in a band if I can't be myself? If I can't play the music that I like? What's the point of becoming someone that I'm not, when this sort of music is all about being yourself and to not be afraid to be honest… I'm just done. I'm done with it. Maybe I,' he paused and looked up at you, 'maybe I should just go solo and start my own band.'

You sat in silence while Sihtric finished his cigarette, your head resting on his shoulder.

'Whatever you chose to do,' you said, 'I'll be there. I'll stand by you, no matter what.'

Sihtric smiled softly and pecked your cheek.

'Thank you, my love,' he whispered, then sighed and got up, 'I'm going to take a shower now, need to get those fucking lipstick stains off me,' he grimaced.

You had changed into some comfortable clothes when Sihtric stepped out of the bathroom, shirtless while wearing black sweatpants. You looked up from your phone and felt your heart drop when you saw the broken look on your boyfriend's face.

'What's wrong?' you jumped up.

'I… I just feel so fucking disgusting,' Sihtric said as tears ran down his face, 'I'm sorry.'

You looked at his torso and saw the dark marks on his body, where the lipstick stains had been from the video shoot. Sihtric had desperately tried to wash the stains off his skin, almost compulsively, as they weren't yours and he felt violated. And as he had aggressively tried to clean off the lipstick in the shower, he had clearly bruised himself in the process, feeling he even deserved the pain because you had been hurt too.

'Honey,' you whispered as you walked up to him, 'it's… it's not your fault, don't feel like that.'

You took his hands, kissed them both, and then softly kissed one of the bruises on his shoulder.

'I'm sorry,' Sihtric whispered.

'I know,' you hushed him and kissed another bruise, 'don't worry, you're mine. Always mine.'

'Yours,' he sniffled, 'I only want to be yours.'

You looked up at him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

'Please,' Sihtric whispered and leaned back against the bathroom door, 'please,' he whined, 'I need you to- to claim me back.'

'Don't be silly, you're still mine, love,' you whispered while Sihtric tugged at your shirt and shook his head.

'No,' he breathed, 'I… please,' he begged as you wiped his tears, 'mark me, please.'

You buried your face in his neck as your tears began to fall, and Sihtric wrapped his strong arms around you.

'I love you,' you whispered.

'I love you too,' Sihtric said as he held you tight, 'only you.'

'I know,' you smiled softly and kissed his cheek.

You took his hands in yours again and led him to his couch, where you gently pushed him down and straddled his lap.

'Take me,' your sensitive yet rough looking boyfriend husked, 'please, love. I need to feel you own me… say that you own me, please,' he whispered while he held your chin, 'tell me I'm yours.'

'I own you,' you whispered and kissed his lips, 'you're mine,' you kissed him again, 'only mine. My kitten,' you murmured as you nuzzled his nose.

'Yours. Your kitten,' Sihtric growled softly.

You hummed in agreement and kissed his lips again, then kissed your way to his jaw, his ear, his neck and on to his shoulders. You kissed every bruise on his skin and more, as you slowly kissed and licked your way down his body. You took your time, claiming every inch of his body just like he needed you to do, like he had begged you to do, and he moaned softly while he sat back with his eyes closed, enjoying the way you made him feel loved and safe.

'If I have to finish that video shoot,' Sihtric whispered, 'I only want to do it with you, doll. With your hands in my hair and your lips on my body. I refuse to do it with anyone else.'

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#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #tlk #modern!sihtric

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