#2. Logistics solution

[adeelseo]

Roadrunner Tracking

[lelianaslefthand]

might have brava kill connor

[vivekbsworld]

Driving Efficiency: Fleet Management Software Solutions in Dubai

In the heart of the bustling metropolis of Dubai, where every minute counts and precision is paramount, efficient fleet management is crucial for businesses to stay ahead of the curve. From logistics companies navigating the city's intricate road network to construction firms overseeing a fleet of heavy machinery, the ability to monitor, track, and optimize fleet operations can make all the difference. This is where fleet management software solutions in Dubai come into play, offering innovative tools to streamline processes, enhance productivity, and drive business growth. Let's explore some of the top fleet management software solutions making waves in Dubai's dynamic business landscape.

1. Trinetra

Trinetra is a leading provider of fleet management software solutions, offering a comprehensive suite of tools to help businesses optimize their fleet operations. With features such as real-time tracking, route optimization, and driver behavior monitoring, Trinetra empowers businesses to improve efficiency, reduce costs, and enhance customer satisfaction. Whether it's managing a fleet of delivery vehicles or a construction fleet, Trinetra's customizable solutions cater to a wide range of industries and business needs.

2. Chekhra Business Solutions

Chekhra Business Solutions specializes in fleet management software tailored to the unique requirements of businesses in Dubai and the wider UAE. Their user-friendly platform offers advanced features such as GPS tracking, fuel management, and maintenance scheduling, allowing businesses to gain real-time insights into their fleet operations. With a focus on innovation and customer satisfaction, Chekhra Business Solutions is committed to helping businesses maximize their productivity and profitability.

3. Carmine

Carmine is a cloud-based fleet management software solution designed to meet the needs of businesses of all sizes in Dubai. With features such as vehicle tracking, driver management, and compliance monitoring, Carmine helps businesses streamline their operations and ensure regulatory compliance. Its intuitive interface and customizable reporting tools make it easy for businesses to track their fleet performance and make data-driven decisions to optimize efficiency and reduce costs.

4. Fleet Complete

Fleet Complete is a global leader in fleet management software solutions, with a strong presence in Dubai and the UAE. Their comprehensive platform offers a wide range of features, including GPS tracking, route optimization, and asset management, enabling businesses to maximize the efficiency of their fleet operations. With real-time visibility into vehicle location, status, and performance, Fleet Complete empowers businesses to improve productivity, reduce fuel consumption, and enhance customer service.

5. GPSit

GPSit is a trusted provider of fleet management software solutions, offering cutting-edge technology to businesses across Dubai and the UAE. Their platform provides real-time tracking, route optimization, and driver behavior monitoring, helping businesses optimize their fleet operations and improve overall efficiency. With a focus on reliability, scalability, and customer support, GPSit is committed to helping businesses achieve their fleet management goals and drive success in a competitive marketplace.

Conclusion

In the fast-paced business environment of Dubai, where efficiency and productivity are paramount, the adoption of fleet management software solutions is essential for businesses to stay competitive and thrive. Whether it's optimizing routes, improving fuel efficiency, or ensuring regulatory compliance, these software solutions offer a comprehensive suite of tools to help businesses streamline their operations and drive growth. By harnessing the power of technology and innovation, businesses in Dubai can unlock new opportunities for success and maintain their position as leaders in their respective industries.

[strangelittlestories]

Something interesting about archaeology is that it’s actually not that interesting: even when you’re on a dig, most of it is dirt and logistics and fragments.

Something scary about ghosts is that they’re actually not that frightening: even when you have a haunting, most of it is ectoplasm and low-key longing and echoes.

The fascinating bit about both is that, sometimes, when you piece all the boring bits together, you get a story; a story of how people used to live. It will probably be a story about something mundane, like how people cooked or what their bathroom solutions were.

For example: at this particular dig, we found fragments of large cooking pots in a few larger buildings. The smaller buildings that seemed to be individual homes did not have *any* surviving cooking pots (not even any copper remnants); however, they did have at least one well preserved earthenware bowl inscribed with runes.

These runes turned out to be a close match to an early rune of co-locating folk magic, seen primarily in the Katabasic region. The bowl was also adorned with a slate inlay, of a kind that was often used to write upon in chalk.

The apparent conclusion? This settlement operated a communal cooking operation that delivered food to order. We would assume the recipient would write their request in chalk on the slate inlay of their bowl, and the runes would briefly trick reality into thinking the inside of the bowl and the inside of the pot occupied the same space. Thus, the bowl would magically fill with food.

So, yeah. These folks had invented magical Doordash.

I briefly considered trying to replicate their system on my travel mug. The coffee on the dig site was *dreadful*, so I figured I could have my husband make some nice single origin cold brew back home (or maybe a nice pot of darjeeling second flush?) and teleport it in. But as it was likely tied to local hospitality folk magic, this would likely run across three problems: 1. Range limitations. 2. It may only work for community members. 3. Folk magic sometimes used local deities or spirits as intermediaries and popping a new request in the inbox of a dormant god was usually a bad call.

Oh, and reason number 4: the bowl we’d excavated was extremely haunted.

This may, in fact, explain why it was so well preserved. Theurgic suffusation is the term - if the spirit is clinging tightly enough to the atoms of the object, then time starts to think the material is just as undying as the soul.

You know how I mentioned the scary thing about ghosts is that they’re not scary? They only persist as fully ensouled beings as long as their unfinished business can feasibly *be finished*. Even with generation blood debts, they still tend to become unviable with a couple of centuries. Then the soul slowly starts to move on, leaving only an imprint on the umbra. That’s what’s scary about ghosts: even that which is undying will be eaten by history.

Except this blighter apparently.

So I ran a chemical analysis on the trace molecules left on the lining of the bowl. Then I ran the runes through a penumbral simulation matrix.

The bowl contained traces of calcified aconite. The runes showed an exploit in the magic; the teleportation could be hijacked by holy petition or speculative conjuration.

The ghost had been poisoned. Murdered.

And if they were still a ghost, then whoever killed them was *still around*.

I really really hope that I never meet whatever person or creature is apparently still alive close to a millennia after they murdering someone in a way that is both *really clever* and *really nasty*.

But oh buddy, oh pal … what I want may be immaterial. For surely do intend to figure out the whole of this story.

---

With thanks to Ellie for the submission of the Archaeologist (fearless, frightened, fancy) to the Character of the Month club.

Want to submit your own characters for my stories? Consider supporting me on Ko-Fi with a recurring donation https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[bitchesgetriches]

On leaving home for the first time:

Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between

Ask the Bitches: “I Just Turned 18 and My Parents Are Kicking Me Out. How Do I Brace Myself?”

Ask the Bitches: I Want to Move Out, but I Can’t Afford It. How Bad Would It Be to Take out Student Loans to Cover It?

How To Start at Rock Bottom: Welfare Programs and the Social Safety Net

Advice I Wish My Parents Gave Me When I Was 16

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Make Myself Financially Secure Before Age 30?

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

Master the Logistics and Etiquette of Moving Out

Season 2, Episode 5: “What Do I Need to Know about Moving into My First Apartment?”

On basic finance:

How the Hell Does One Open a Bank Account? Asking for a Friend.

How Do You Write and Cash Checks? Asking for a Friend.

Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead

You Must Be This Big to Be an Emergency Fund

A Hand-Holding Guide to Getting Your First Credit Card

How to File Your Taxes FOR FREE: Simple Instructions for the Stressed-Out Taxpayer

Dafuq Is Credit and How Do You Bend It to Your Will?

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Dafuq Is Interest and How Does It Work for the Forces of Darkness?

What’s the Difference Between Savings and Checking Accounts, and How Should I Be Using Them?

Dafuq Is a Down Payment? And Why Do You Need One to Buy Stuff?

Dafuq Is Insurance and Why Do You Even Need It?

Investing Deathmatch: Investing in the Stock Market vs. Just… Not

Dafuq Is a Retirement Plan and Why Do You Need One?

Do NOT Make This Disastrous Beginner Mistake With Your Retirement Funds

On managing your household:

How the Hell Does One Laundry? Asking for a Friend.

How the Hell Does One Wash Dishes? Asking for a Friend.

Ask the Bitches: Why Are Painted Mason Jars the Internet’s Only Solution to My Tiny Apartment Woes?

9 Essential Tools for Apartment-Dwellers (and 6 That Are Kinda Useless)

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Survive in an Apartment with No Heat?

How to Save Money on Your Beloved Pets

Bullshit Reasons Not to Buy a House: Refuted

How To Maintain Your Car When You’re Barely Driving It

25 Tricks to Stay Cool WITHOUT Air Conditioning

On feeding and caring for yourself:

You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.

How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss

If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You

I Think I Need to Go the Emergency Room?

Ask the Bitches: Ugh, How Do I Build the Habit of Taking Meds?

On maintaining relationships:

Season 1, Episode 8: “My Mother Demands Information About My One-Night Stands.”

Season 1, Episode 3: “My Parents Have Bad Credit. Should I Help by Co-signing Their Mortgage?”

Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?

Ask the Bitches: My Dad Sucks with Money. How Do I Make Him Change?

You Need to Talk to Your Parents About Their Retirement Plan

Season 2, Episode 1: “I’m Financially Stable, but My Friends Aren’t. The Guilt Is Crushing!”  

On starting your career:

22-Year-Olds Don’t Belong in Grad School

High School Students Have No Way of Knowing What Career to Choose. Why Do We Make Them Do It Anyway?

The Actually Helpful, Nuanced, Non-Bullshit Way to Choose a Future Career

Your College Major May Not Prepare You for Your Job—but It Can Prepare You for Life

The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships

Your School or Workplace Benefits Might Include Cool Free Stuff

[letosmauddib]

Difficult Arrangements

FEYD RAUTHA x Y/N reader - arranged marriage (she/ her pronouns)

18+ - please do not read/ interact if you are underage / uncomfortable

Warnings - Implied Smut, (It's on in part 2 <3 -), pregnancy mentions, arranged marriage factors, medical talk, speaking of breeding?

please interact! I love to see the feedback:)

PT.2 HERE-

“The best course of action might be a stimulant, something to engage her desire for more frequent intercourse?” She felt like the examination table was growing colder against her. She stared down at her socked feet, trying to keep herself away from the conversation the three men in the room were having regarding her desire to fucking her husband. Feyd stood next to her slumped form, growing increasingly annoyed with what he was deeming to be a ridiculous conversation.  “What have the endless tests you’ve been performing resulted in? Seemingly a waste of time..” He responded, annoyed at their uncertain responses and experimental solutions. “Na-Baron, Sir… the sake of the lineage needs to make sure the compatibility is there..it’s unfortunately not very simple to resolve with just practical medicine.” She glanced at his blank expression, his jaw clenched; “So what are you two doing to assist the issue?” “We have been researching natural ways to accelerate or increase the probability of pregnancy and we believe the stimulants in specific foods can help. Another practice has been proven to help as well..” The medic adjusted his stance, not seemingly wanting to speak on it further. Feyd was losing patience fast, “And it is?” “Making sure there is a willingness from the female to er- engage, and for her to accomplish climax during the ovulation period…”  Her brain felt like it could slip out of her head, three men discussing the logistics of her lack of orgasm and lack of pregnancy being connected. Her willingness to become impregnated with Feyd-Rautha’s child was being questioned. She sits across from dozens of scans and files on her body. Y/N blanked out the rest of the conversation, tired from her lack of sleep and her lack of breakfast. She had grown used to the schedule set by her husband and felt the effects of falling out of schedule.  As the discussion toned down, she felt herself unable to daze off. “No, she won’t be touched or examined by a man. I’ve stated this before and I am growing quite a disdain for these stupid statements..” He wasn’t being difficult due to interest in her lack of comfort, it was more his. Feyd was territorial with what he deemed to be ‘his’. Every male around understood they could lose a limb, or their lives if they attempted to touch her. Guards were extraordinarily careful, whilst noblemen and relatives acted as though she simply did not exist. “Na-Baron, her the Na-Baroness’  nurse and doctor are off-planet and won’t be back for at least a week.” “Then, the examination will happen in a week. I would strongly advise both of you to step out and get back to finding more helpful solutions.” Both medics excused themselves as they stepped out. Leaving them alone in the examination room. Feyd glanced over her form, his hand slipped to the back of her neck, fingers against her soft hair. “Even more quiet than usual mouse…”

She could feel the tears building but she couldn’t do it, “I-I’ve grown quite tired of these appointments.” She whispered. “I just wish I would just be pregnant..” Feyd wasn’t one to show much empathy or emotion since their courtship. He was quite a lunatic and had complete disregard for anyone and everything around him. But he noticed her defeat, 6 months of marriage attempts since their wedding, and no heir. She was raised to strive for motherhood and couldn’t seem to accomplish the part of becoming a mother. “I have to get back to training, let’s get you to the dining room for breakfast.” 

He walked next to her, keeping her at a close distance through their stride of the endless hallway. Her mind drifted off to how loving her parents were, how they held hands through walks and constantly embraced. She wasn’t sure how he would react to an attempt at affection. Although she craved the sweetness of a hug or a cuddle, she didn’t think to attempt anything. She slowed down to glance out the giant windows. She longed for soft grass fields and flowers to step through and lay in from her home world. Feyd could see her longing stare, he knew well that she wasn’t present in those silent moments.

They didn’t say a word to each other until they reached the dining room. The servants were setting up a big portioned breakfast. “I will be back after training, I want all of your portions eaten. I will be reported back to.” She nodded, not up for arguing with her husband today. Before she could step in, his strong arms pulled her in for a kiss. His lips were rough against hers, her hands instinctively reaching for his waist. Before it could deepen, he pulled away, allowing her to step back.  “I’ll be devouring you for a nice late breakfast after training. Be good for me pet.”  She nodded sheepishly, aware of his statement, and she approached her predetermined feast.

PT. 2 coming sooon

[woodlandwizard77]

A Step by Step Guide to Losing Your D**k

I recently wrote a series of messages to my aunt talking about all the steps I need to do to get bottom surgery, a penile inversion vaginoplasty at Mt. Sinai, in the next year or two. Its a long list. And everytime I added something she had a sort of “wow thats rough” reaction, but to me its just the to do list. So I decided to write them all out.

Start transition DONE

Most insurance companies and surgeons require you to have socially transitioned and have done HRT for at least 1 year at the time of operation

For social transition, this was March of 2024

For HRT it will be January of 2025

Get a referral to a surgeon (I am here)

In my case, Mt. Sinai in Manhattan

My Doctor referred me, but Mt. Sinai takes self referrals

Start laser hair removal

Book a consultation (I am here)

Go to laser frequently enough to satisfy surgeon

Convince Mom and Dad to help out DONE

Get 2 letters

Social Worker (1)

PCP's Office

Social Worker (2)

Mt. Sinai

Get a gender affirmation loan through the local credit union

Work two weeks so I can take in pay stubs

Get a letter from anybody (probably my HRT prescriber

Meet with representative and either open a line of credit or take out a loan

Consultation with Mt. Sinai’s team

Wait 3-6 months (I’m here)

Bring letters

My insurance only requires 2, less than Mt. Sinai thinks insurance will need, and Mt. Sinai provides 1 of them. Meaning the other is through IHS Behavioral

Schedule Social Work pre surgical consult appt

Schedule Mental Health and Medical Clearance with Registrar

Go to NYC for 1-2 nights, maybe for each, hopefully just once

Maybe also for Social Work thing

Consult with Surgeon

Wait until I’ve worked about 12 months to get short term disability

Probably summer (ASAP) and when Mom has time off

Do logistics

Book an airbnb, hotel, etc for recovery

Starting a few days after OR date and lasting a little over a month

Within a 90 minute drive of Mt. Sinai

Rural enough that Mom is comfortable to help and can go home if someone else shows up

Probably New Jersey, maybe Hudson Valley

Has at least 1, preferably 2, separate bedrooms

Has 2 beds

Has ADA accessible entry

Has a kitchen

Has a full bath, preferably and a half

Has internet and preferably a TV

Lodging for Mom + Dad/care team while I’m in OR

Probably 5-7 days

Preferably with a 1-2 day buffer period before OR date (included in the 7 day estimate) so I can enjoy the city

Either within a short walk from Mt. Sinai or on the same subway line as Mt. Sinai

RW, 1, or ACE

Someone to help me get from recovery location to Mt. Sinai while not in NYC

Develop and get list of items needed for recovery

Dilator

Pads

Gowns/loose clothing

Comfort food

Coordinate missing 8-9 weeks of work

Take care with who knows what before I leave

Inform HR, department manager, and work friends whats up

Get cleared for surgery and get an OR date

Probably a 6-12 month date from clearance

Get pre clearance testing through PCP or a lab in hometown

Go to NYC for that if need be

Week Before Surgery

No alcohol, no aspirin, NSAIDs, herbal supplements, or fish oil

Consult for other non aspirin blood thinners (which I am not on)

No alcohol for 3 weeks after as well

Tylenol/Acetaminophen is okay

Go downstate

See friends from NYC?

Bring Mom/Dad?

Do something fun in Manhattan

Get a COVID test

Take an anti-bacterial bath

Day before surgery

Breakfast before 9am

Last meal

Drink Golytely bowel solution around noon

Chemically induced diarrhea

Clear fluids only after golytely

(includes coffee, tea, water, broth, some juices)

Nothing goes in the stomach after midnight

Some medication okay with a sip of water

HRT???

Get surgery (a penile inversion vaginoplasty)

1 to 1+½ days

I’ve heard of as long as three

3-5 day hospital stay

Mom and Dad probably stay in Manhattan then

Go to recovery location

Drive with seat reclined

Stay for 4 weeks, pretty much bedridden

Go to follow ups

Dilate

Go home

Continue recovery for another 2-4 weeks at home

Follow up with PCP

Return to life

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts III

A/N: firstly apologies for the wait and secondly I absolutely did not want to cut this into another part but here we are 😢 I think this will change some ppls opinions oops dont hate me

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————————

I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was off in my life; I felt disconnected from myself, my friends, and most importantly from Gray. But getting Gray to communicate when he didn’t want to could feel like pulling teeth. And I was no dentist.

I figured the solution was to stubbornly throw myself into work. After all, with Harry’s European tour starting March there was always a lot to do.

“Nice of you to get here so early,” Harry says as I step off the elevators just before 9–an hour later than I usually do.

“I had dry cleaning to pick up,” I ignore his sarcasm. “Your tour fits aren’t going to magically appear in the penthouse as nice as that would be for me.”

I keep my tone light, joking, but it’s passive just as he is. And he can’t call passive out.

That’s what working for Harry has been like since December. It was winter outside these walls and inside.

I had originally decided to let it all go after sitting with the party’s events that weekend but upon arriving to work Harry had been particular asshole-ish and I decided two could play at the game. It was like the holiday party never happened. And I was okay with that.

“If they did, I wouldn’t need you would I?” Harry takes on the same tone I do.

Asshole, “yeah, how nice would that be.”

I walk away to his closet to hang up the garment bags.

“You still have two fits that need final fitting. For today, you’ve got a 2pm for your ear plugs and monitors,” I say as I walk back into the main living space. I take in Harry in his bathrobe and bedhead and realize he must be hungover. Which meant extra grumpy. “Also a meeting before noon with Jeff—he’s sick so he’ll do a Zoom. And rehearsals start tomorrow at 8am.”

The long-awaited tour he was rehearsing for was 2 months long and with his tour manager joining him I’d be kind of redundant. We agreed I’d start the tour with him, and then end it as he came back to the UK but I’d take a break in between.

“Good,” Harry sits on a barstool and as the robe parts I hoped he was wearing something underneath. “Are you joining rehearsals?”

“Tomorrow yeah,” I instinctively start tidying the coffee table littered with Harry’s activities from last night. There’s empty bottles and unused rolling papers, takeout containers and unopened bottles.

“Can you stop that,” Harry snaps. He’s wincing when I look up. “The clinking—it’s too loud.”

His second statement comes out softer but it doesn’t make him any less irritating.

“I’ll just toss these ones,” I take the ones I’d gathered in my hand.

“So,” he carries on with the earlier conversation. “Just tomorrow yeah?”

“Yep, to make sure everyone’s there, forms are signed, and all that. Jeff will drop by too. Otherwise I’ll just be there once a week or so since I have other things to complete.”

“So you’ll enjoy the full glory of the show once it’s live on stage?”

“I guess.”

“Please y/n reign in the excitement, it’s just too much.” Harry flexes his sarcasm again.

I look up from the other side of the island and lock eyes with him. With one bottle still in my hand I don’t put it in gently, instead letting it drop onto the others in the bin. His face twists in pain and I get my hit of satisfaction.

“I am excited,” I continue. “I’ll be more excited when you get on tour but right now I’m buried under an insane amount of logistics and stuff. So I’m just pacing myself.”

“Glad you got that out of your system,” he slides off the stool. “Are you sure you want to join tour? It takes a toll.”

“What? Am I taking up the space you reserved for groupies?” I goad.

He pretends to think, “No…we’ve got a whole other bus for that.”

“Great,” I smile. “Then I’ll definitely be there for the start of your tour, cheering you on.”

“Not too hard though,” Harry grabs a water from the fridge and heads towards the bedrooms. “Can’t have all of y/n’s enthusiasm overshadowing my fans.”

I roll my eyes behind his back and choose not to respond, as tempting as it was.

By the end of the week I’ve met everyone that’ll be joining the tour, taken copies of a million contracts and filed a billion papers.

It’s Saturday night and we’re heading home from the studio. Harry, in a twist of kindness, offers to drop me home.

“You don’t live too far,” he comments as we get closer to my building.

“Yeah, I was surprised with that.” It was a stroke of luck having a short commute.

“How does Mr. Duran feel about you coming on tour?”

I throw him a look but he sits there smug, waiting. “Well he’s not keen on me being away from home for so long but otherwise he’s fine.”

“Is he?” Harry extends his knee to nudge mine, irritating me. Just a few more minutes.

“Yes.” I turn to look out the window, no longer interested in the conversation. In reality Gray had been pretty upset that I’d be travelling the continent with womanizer Harry Styles. I’d soothed his fears but he was hard-headed about it.

Originally I’d saved the conversation to be had after New Year’s to not ruin the holidays but Josie had brought up tickets for the tour during Christmas dinner and although I played it off then, he’d been in a mood since.

“You’re an awful liar,” Harry says. I don’t respond. Luckily I’m home.

I figured Sunday, on my day off, Gray and I could catch up and spend quality time together. Maybe iron out some of our kinks. But he tells me he had a few sessions and I’m left alone for most of the day, convinced Gray booked them on purpose but not wanting to admit what that meant.

The following Thursday night, Gray and I finally collide after I’d spent the week stewing in my anger and anxieties.

“Why won’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m living with a stranger these days.” The conversation starts out semi-tamed as we wash up for dinner.

“You feel that way? Well I’ve seen my fiancée for less than 48 hours a week this last year. Talk about being a stranger.”

“I’ve been taking more time off,” I wonder when he decided to count the number of hours. But it was true—I’d started doing a half-days on most Saturdays and coming home earlier on week nights. Like tonight, I’d been home by half past 6. “I’ve been trying to spend more time at home.”

“Too little too late,” Gray mutters.

“What?”

“I just mean,” he sighs. “I…y/n, we barely get time together. We’re like flatmates these days aren’t we? We haven’t-“

“Don’t you dare Gray,” I wasn’t having this. I refused to hear what he was trying to get at.

“Y/n don’t be difficult-“

“Difficult!? You can’t go radio silent on me and then decide 3 years can just go down the drain.”

“I’m not saying that-“

“Then what are you saying!?”

The silence rings to the corners of our kitchen. The dishes are long forgotten, suds drip down my elbow and onto the floor, and Gray’s towel hangs like a white flag beside him.

“You knew what this job meant—you work with the same clientele, and you encouraged me to go for it. I’m trying to be better I don’t get it.” I finally say.

“I’m saying something needs to change.”

What takes me back the most is the even—even apathetic, tone. It’s the fact that he must have been thinking on this for long enough to be so level-headed about it.

Who has he talked to, I wonder. His sister? Our friends? Who’s advised him to go in this direction because the Grayson I know wouldn’t do me like this. Couldn’t.

Are you even the y/n Grayson knows, a small voice asks in my head.

“We’ve changed, I get it.” My tone takes a pleading ring to it and I hate it. “But you can’t just decide this isn’t worth fighting for Gray-“

“I’m not Y/n,” he puts the towel to the side and grabs my arms. “I’m not throwing anything away but we need to bloody figure something out because…I’m unhappy. And can you really say our relationship is the same? Can you call what we’re in a relationship?”

“Why not?” I whisper, tears choking me. “I thought we love each other and we support each other and-and we see each other through thick and thin.”

“I love you,” Gray squeezes. “And I know we’ve seen each other through thick and thin but…I don’t know if I can keep supporting you at the expense of us.”

“Well what do you want?” I look up into his brown eyes. They’re steady like they usually were.

“I want you, selfishly. I want all of you.”

He had what he wanted, didn’t he get that? He had me. I don’t know what more of me I could give him. And that thought tears me right through.

“What happened to setting a date?” Gray steps back and takes his steady grip with him. I sink into the countertop behind me. “What happened to planning for our future? Marriage and kids and buying a home and doing something more?”

His voice raises as he talks.

“I feel like I’ve been living in limbo for the last year! Just waiting around for you. I don’t know how much longer I can wait-“

“We can set a date,” I say. “We can do all that! You-you haven’t brought up any of it either! If it’s been weighing on your mind why don’t you ever just say something!?”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

I’d hit a nerve. We’d had this conversation a dozen times.

“Of course you do! Like, I’m not a mind reader you’ve been stewing in these feelings for god knows how long and now you’re telling me you’re thinking of-of-of ending things!?”

There, I’d said it.

His face contorts into a flurry of emotions. My body feels ragged just saying these things out loud.

“When I spoke to Stewart and Bex they said-“

“Stewart and…” I was right he’s been talking. “You were talking to Stew and Bex!? Since when did you spend time with Bex?”

“Since I had a lot of time alone at home.”

Fuck, he managed to get the upper hand all the time with that one valid point he had.

“They both agreed with me that this isn’t right. I’m allowed to be upset and ask you for something to change-“

“But why didn’t you talk to me!” The switch to anger is quick when he admits he was talking to our friends. I think about the last few times we saw them—had they been judging me? Had Gray told them by then?

Gray tries to brush past and tell me more about his validated feelings, about how things had changed. I can’t hear anymore.

“This decision you seem to want to make for both of us should involve me too and yet you make it the talk of the town before consulting me. I’m so goddamn tired of the way you shut down Gray I-“

“I’m tired!” He butts in. “I’m tired of watching things change and being forced to move past it.”

I stare at him. He’s not bending whatsoever. He’s not even understanding the frustration at being the last to know his feelings on our fucking relationship. Didn’t he understand how iced out that made me feel? When I’ve been trying to be as mindful as I can?

“You know what Gray,” I sneer. “You talk about us changing but did you ever think that we’ve been changing since we first met!? The only thing that’s different now is we stopped talking!”

I throw the rest of the dishes into the soapy water and storm out to the only safe haven I had right now—our bed.

Everyone wanted parts of me I couldn’t give and I felt torn to shreds! I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror, I hardly remembered what it felt like to be me.

The only time I felt centered, a bit of calm, was here. With Gray.

And now I knew the feelings weren’t mutual. He’d been thinking of ending things while I had curled in his arms. While I had kissed him goodnight and hello. While we had dinner or drinks. While we hung out with friends who were privy to all the cracks in our relationship. Who knows how long it had been a one-sided feeling.

I bury my head into my pillow wanting to scream and cry at the same time. My head hurts but mostly my heart hurts. I feel betrayed by my bestest friend and the person I love the most.

You’re no better, the ugly voice in my head shows up again. You’ve done things you should be ashamed of.

I block the voice out. I block it all out until all I feel is numb.

Gray doesn’t come to bed at all that night. I drag myself out of the nest I’d created some time around midnight, thinking he fell asleep on the sofa. To tell him to come to bed since I knew our sofa wasn’t long enough for him to even fit on.

I sway in the middle of the empty living room. There’s nobody here. Definitely not Gray. He’d left altogether, to wherever he’s been finding refuge recently.

It hits me; I think I’ve done this to myself. I was alone. Really alone.

***

The scowl is permanently etched onto my face as I go about my Friday morning. I feel Harry’s eyes on me a few times but even he doesn’t broach the subject. We silently maneuver around each other until he leaves for rehearsal.

I think about calling my friends to talk about this but I realize all my friends who were up to date on my life had become interwoven with Gray’s. And I already know Gray complained about my job to them based on a few parties last year. So they definitely wouldn’t be unbiased listening to anything I said.

I regret then, not staying in touch more with my friends back home. For the first time in years I feel a bit homesick.

I decide busying myself with work would be the only thing to keep me sane so I throw on headphones and get down to business.

As the day starts to come to an end I put on Harry’s stereo with the mournful songs that had been comforting me today and grab a seltzer from the fridge. He wouldn’t be home until 8 tonight and he’s always been open about using whatever was in the general living spaces.

So I nearly have a heart attack when I see a shadow from the corner of my eyes around 6.

I give a shout when it comes with a voice and once my senses return I realize it’s just a sweaty Harry back early from rehearsal.

“What? Are you doing here!?” I press on my pounding heart. “Alexa music off.”

He’s grinning at the way I reacted and now he laughs, it’s a bending-over laugh and I chuckle myself as I replay how dramatic it all was.

“Wow.” He says when he finally catches his breath. “I wish I had that on video.”

“Jesus,” I swear. “I thought you’d be home a lot later.”

“So this is what happens when I’m not home,” he teases.

“Only on Fridays,” I collapse into the closest chair and tilt my head back. “God, I thought there was like, an intruder or something. Or a ghost.”

He laughs again, moving to the kitchen for a water. “Good thing ghosts don’t exist.”

“They so do.” I reply.

“There’s no proof that’s ever convinced me they exist.”

“You live a sad skeptical life Mr. Styles.” My breathing is finally regulated and I sit up to look at him. “I’ve seen one myself when I was a teen. I wish I could be a disbeliever like you.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story,” he leans on the island looking very amused.

“I will,” I accept his challenge.

“I cut rehearsals short,” he continues. “I’m knackered from this week. I just want to be one with my couch and get drunk and not worry about what moves to do and what song to sing.”

“Yeah,” he looked tired and his hair was getting a bit shaggy. He runs his hand through the damp curls. “I need a shower and I think I should do a trim.”

“Consider it booked,” I pull the phone towards me and text his usual stylist. I hear him move around the space and pause before he disappears down the hall.

“Are you heading home soon?” He asks.

“Hm?” I kill time responding, acting like I didn’t hear his response. I didn’t want to go home at all. I didn’t even know if Gray was home or not and I didn’t want to find out. Harry repeats his question. “No. I wanted to wrap up some things. I can move to the office if you wanted the space to chill out?”

He shrugs and tells me I could go where I want.

I wanted to be out of the way, and not home. So I move to the office. The same office where weeks ago I’d teetered on the edge of a fatal decision and now was faced with the possibility of that decision made for me.

I slump in the seat and take a moment to just decompress. A headache creeps around my eyes and I just feel lost and hurt and alone.

When I break the laptop open again I move like a slug, scraping the barrel of effort and coming up with nil.

“Uh y/n?” Harry’s head pops into the door a while later.

“Yeah?” I blink up at him, still in slug mode.

He stares at me a second, “Do you have plans tonight? You could…join me in doing nothing?”

When was the last time I did nothing? I couldn’t remember. And it sounded like a distraction—not a good one, but one that helped me avoid home for longer.

“Sure?” I respond.

Harry blinks. “Oh. Brilliant. Finish what you’re doing if you’d like or you can join me now. Oh. Could you also order us some pizza or something that’s greasy and bad for us?”

I liked the direction of this. I feel my sluggish feeling slide away. “I can do that.”

“Good. Great. This is going to be a good night.”

He moves away as he talks and his last sentence is shouted from down the hall. I smile, relieved to do something like this.

I consider texting Gray, but decide against it. He left last night without a word, making me worried and today there’s been radio silence. I wasn’t in the mood to take the high road.

I do as Harry asks. Meanwhile Harry had put on some peppier music and brought out a six-pack from the fridge. His head is buried in the pantry rummaging through.

“What do you need?” I come up behind him.

“Oh,” he pops out. “Looking for some sweets. I’m sure I have some somewhere.”

“Oh yeah!” I close the doors he’s looking in and open the top cabinet. His eyes light up when he spots the options. “Food’s on its way by the way.”

He rubs his hands and starts pulling things off the pantry. It’s a different energy than any before, he’s not picking on me or ordering me around. He’s just inviting me to be on the ins with him. My instinct is to stay quiet and see where it goes but I shake it off.

“Are we just playing with beer tonight or is wine on the menu?” I ask. I hated the taste of beer.

“It could?” He unloads the pile in his arms onto the island and starts rummaging through the wines. “How about this one?”

A white. I take it from him and head for some glasses.

We end up making a buffet for ourselves on the coffee table and when the pizza comes we settle in, chatting occasionally about the things around us.

“So what does doing nothing involve?” I ask when we’re situated on the couch. Harry’s left a few feet of space between us which is very appreciated. I pull my feet up. “Because I have to say it’s been a while and I don’t know how to do nothing.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. I find myself grinning in response.

“Touché mon amie.”

“Okay I actually got that,” I nod.

“Do you speak french?” He asks as he opens the wine and pours us both a glass, mine’s a lot more full than his.

“No but I spent a month in Paris when I was in uni,” I savour the sour flavours of the wine as it coats my mouth and settles me down. “So I learned the bare minimum. Now all I can say is bonjour, ca beigne? And also un verre du vin s’il vous plait?”

“So you cut right to the chase—hey are you alright? A glass of wine thanks. Now leave me alone.”

We laugh and I hold up my glass, “I was hoping you’d get the hint. Why is mine so full anyway?”

“I’m just drinking some so you don’t have to drink it alone. Then I’m gonna crack on with the beer.”

“Oh!” There he had to go and be thoughtful again. “Forget it, I will happily drink the bottle. Drink whatever you want.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward to put his glass down.

I lean over and pour his measly amount into mine. “There, you’ve done the sharing part.”

“So y/n,” he asks after we’ve grabbed our respective snacks of choice. “Can I ask why you were listening to all those ballads before I came in?”

“I need to get a bit more drunk before I do that,” I down some more wine, already feeling the buzz of it. Obviously this was not the cheap wine I generally had.

“Alright we’ll get you there,” he promises. His eyes flicker from his phone to me and back to his phone. “Uhh could I show you something?”

“Like what?”

“We’re releasing the MV for one of my songs a week before I go on tour right.”

“Right,” I name the single that’s been thrown around countless times this week.

“I got back the deck for what it’ll look like. I’m excited can I show it to you?”

It’s endearing, in a way, how eager he is to show it. His cheeks even have spots of pink.

“Uh yeah! Let’s see it!”

“Cool,” he grins. He turns on the TV and casts whatever video is on his phone to the screen. He gives me some background on how it was setting up a whole storyline and how they’ve already started filming some of the scenes.

“The shooting starts the week after this one right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in Scotland for a few days. You’re joining me right?”

“Yes! I’m excited to see all the action myself.” I had signed up for the 4-day trip with zero hesitation. As someone who’s always been making up stories and concepts to most music I listened to, getting to see the bts for an MV was a dream come true.

“Really?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s real excitement I promise.”

“You’re interested in it?”

“Yeah! I love music videos, it creates a whole new experience for a song we’ve probably listened to on repeat. It’s cool!”

“So this is y/n really enthusiastic,” he leans back in the cushions to get me in full. “Now I really know you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about tour.”

“Stop saying that!” I laugh. “I was just stressed. I am excited about all of it okay?”

“So you say,” with a final glance he presses play and I’m entranced as the narration takes us through the plan.

“Umm all I can say is wow.” I turn to him when it’s done. My wine glass had been emptied and my brain had been itched with the most beautiful location and storytelling I’ve seen in a while. “That’s like a mini movie.”

“That’s what I said!” He exclaims. “It’s going to blow everything out of the water.”

“Look at us, doing nothing.” I realize we’d turned around and talked about work.

“Bollocks we’re no good at this.” Harry slides a hand down his face and I laugh at the dramatics. “Let me refill you at least.”

I happily oblige.

We talk about the mv some more, and move onto the tour. Harry asks me about the concerts I’ve been to and we get the kind of excited when you’re tipsy once we find out we were both at a Coldplay concert four years ago in London.

“That would’ve been before the success so I would have been just another bloke to you,” he notes.

“Yeah, imagine we crossed paths then? That would be crazy.”

“If we did, we might still be doing this tonight, just as mates,” he points to between us. “Or you would have fallen in love with me and I would have sacrificed my music to raise our kids.”

“What!?” It’s so absurdly ridiculous that I nearly snort my wine. “Where did that comes from!?”

“Admit it,” he puffs out his chest. “That would have happened. And I’d be so committed-“

“Well you’re assuming that in a 4 year time-span we would get to the point of having kids. So firstly no, secondly who said you had to sacrifice your career?”

“I-“ he stops mid-sentence, looking into the distance.

“Exactly!” I shout. “You’ve got nothing. You’ve just made up a story that makes you sounds good and noble!”

“Fine,” he settles down. “Fine! We never meet and you end up with your Duran bloke and I end up a musician.”

“Is that all I’m reduced to?” I raise my brow. “Who I’m with?”

“No!” He leans between us to pat my leg. It tingles. “No I didn’t mean it like that. You’ll do great things. I just mean the person you end up with isn’t superstar Harry Styles.”

I roll my eyes, “I need more wine if I’m gonna be subjected to any more of this bullshit.”

“Bullshit?!”

“Mhm,” I pop a gummy into my mouth and ignore the look of shock on his face.

“Fine. Then tell me about your bullshit,” he raises his can. “What’s happening to make you so ferocious this morning.”

Oh god. I hold up a finger and shimmy forward for some more wine. I’d drank 2/3 of the bottle and I was definitely tipsy. Maybe I’ll just sip this one.

“Fine. If you want to hear it.”

“I do.”

“I got into a fight with Gray.”

He raises a brow, I continue.

“He’s upset with me and complaining that I work a lot and that he feels like I’m his flatmate!”

“Flatmate with benefits.”

“Shut up!” I groan. “Not the point.”

“Sorry!” He holds his hands up.

“I don’t think he realizes how much of my head is just Gray like, I’m always thinking about him, about what I could do for him and say to him just to make sure he feels seen and reassured and loved! You know I’ve asked you for half-days on Saturdays when you don’t have a lot going on-“

“Mhm,” he nods along.

“I’m like, making sure I’m being a good partner. And apparently he’s been upset and not saying anything.”

“The old silent on the home front.”

“Yes!” I nearly drip wine as I pump my hand. “Yes, on the home front he’s bloody broody and quiet. I knew something was on his mind but like always he’s tight lipped. Even when I asked him a week ago he said he’s just been working a lot. What a liar!”

I complain about how it felt to be iced out of my partner’s emotions and having to guess all the time.

“Then I find out he’s been talking to all our friends to get advice.” Harry raises his brows in judgement and leans back into the sofa, and the small gesture makes me feel so validated. I didn’t realize how much I needed a third-party to just listen to my side of things. Until now, I’d literally not had anyone to talk to about this especially since I avoided talking about work with Gray. I get misty eyed.

“And when we’re talking he’s like so-and-so said this as if I want to know. And!” Now I was on a roll. I put my glass down in fear of spilling it on the pristine sofa and get on my knees to emphasize my frustration. “And the girl he quoted? Get this, I met her—Rebecca—at a job I did like a year ago? And we got along fabulously and I invited her to this party we threw right because she was new to the city and all that. She met my other friends and she fit in so well they invited her the next event. I got her into the group and now she’s talking shit about me with my fiancé behind my back!”

“She’s probably got a thing for your man,” Harry suggests.

“Oh she definitely does!” I’m animated as I continue. “She so does! I’ve caught her making eyes at him before, and laughing a lot whenever he makes a joke. I even mentioned it to him once but he said he didn’t notice.”

“He probably didn’t,” Harry shrugs.

“I know, the male species is a wonder. You get big flirts like you and then otherwise they’re completely oblivious.”

“I’ll have you know when I was a teen, a girl literally gave me a valentine cupcake and I just thought—well I knew she liked to bake, so I thought she just had extras. I didn’t understand why she didn’t speak to me the rest of the year.”

“No way,” I laugh—a lot because the wine was definitely sloshing around in my head, but also I couldn’t imagine Harry being that aloof. “I guess it comes with the ego territory. Were you less of a jerk as a kid?”

His jaw drops. “You just called me a jerk right now. To my face.”

“I did,” I say with glee. I stand to get the full picture of an offended Harry. “And I don’t regret it. So? Were you nicer as a kid?”

“No I’m not answering until you take that back.”

“What! You are a jerk…sometimes! I’m not taking it back!”

“You have to take it back otherwise I will cut you off on the wine.”

I take a step back and stumble as he speaks. Which makes me laugh more. “I think I should cut back. I am a hot mess.”

“At least you’re laughing,” Harry stands too. “It’s world’s different from this morning.”

Just like telling someone not to think of an elephant, I think of the elephant.

“Noo no don’t do that!” Harry rushes towards me and bends down to look me in the eye. “I liked it when you were smiling just now c’mon.”

“Well you reminded me why I was so upset-“

“Can’t stay grumpy, just give me another smile. One smile! Small teeny tiny smile—there it is!”

I can’t help it with his face in mine and the way he’s putting on a voice to get me to smile my face splits in a grin.

“You’re soooo annoying!” I push him but unstable and drunk I fall backwards.

I don’t know what happens next but I’m on the floor looking up into Harry’s concerned face.

“Y/n? Y/n!?”

“Yeah,” my head pounds as I try to make sense of where I am.

“Fuck,” I hear Harry say. He moves away and the overhead light attacks my eyes so I squeeze them shut.

I hear him, panicked, on the phone.

“No!” I try to call out. “M’fine! Don’t even worry-“

“Stay down Y/N,” he’s back by my side. I try to prove to him that I’m okay and sit up but a few inches off the ground and my head feels like it’s full of bees.

“So many bees,” I murmur as I go back down, now a pillow behind my head.

A few minutes later Harry’s helping me up gently. I tell him I wanted to throw up and he helps me to the toilet where I do. Gah. Why did I drink so much.

“I think I’ll head home now,” I hear myself saying to Harry like I was miles away.

“No,” his hands are around my shoulder and holding me upright as we walk out. The lift increases my nausea but I keep my eyes shut.

“I’m going home now,” I tell Harry when we get outside.

“No you’re getting checked out.”

“No!” I shove him away and nearly topple over myself. Why did he have to boss me around all the time? “Stop telling me what to do! My head hurts I’m going home!”

He tries to grab my hand but I yank it off. “Stop! Just stop!”

“Y/n,” Harry’s voice is low and comforting as he gets down in my ear. He smells nice too. “You passed out and you have a headache we have to get you checked out.”

“You’re no fun,” I cross my arms but follow him, only because my headache is so bad. As we get in the car I close my eyes shut as the lights assault them. Harry doesn’t let me sleep on the ride home even though his body is warm and steady beside me. I barely know where I am.

Harry’s POV:

I keep telling myself she would most likely be fine, just like the doctor reassured me but it’s hard not to beat myself up.

I shouldn’t have let her get that drunk, especially upset. I shouldn’t have gotten in her space and caused her to tumble back. I should have done something else.

The guilt is added to when I think of how I spoke to the doctor, demanding they do every scan and not to skip any. I hated who I became sometimes, when I pulled the famous card, but I thought it was necessary right now. Even y/n would give me a pass for using it.

I can’t stop replaying the thud as her head hit the hardwood floor, her eyelids fluttering as I rushed to her, her slack face when she lost consciousness for a moment.

It’s been hours since we came in. The doctor finally heads my way.

“Mr. Styles, your girlfriend is alright,” he holds up his hands before I’m fully standing.

I may have had to say she was my girlfriend after they wouldn’t let me have any say tonight…

“She’ll be alright, you did the right thing getting her here right away.”

“But?”

“No but,” he smiles. “Obviously it’s serious she has a moderate concussion but if she doesn’t exasperate any symptoms—takes it easy the next couple weeks, she’ll be right as rain. We can discharge her once the neurologist confirms. She’s just finishing with another patient right now-“

“She should stay overnight,” I cut him off. His cheeriness was starting to irritate me I felt like he wasn’t taking this seriously enough.

“Oh well,” he laughs but I know I’m irritating him right back. “She will be alright. I can provide you and her with a followup plan-“

“Doctor,” I say. “She’s staying overnight. If I need to rent a bed I’ll do that, tell me what I need to do, but she should stay under observation. Get the care she deserves.”

He pursues his lips, and I wait for him to agree.

“Yep,” he sighs. “I’ll tell the nurse. Just follow me and we can sort the details.”

We do that, I even take a selfie for the nurse’s daughter which grates on the doctor’s nerves even more. He leaves shortly after.

I get y/n’s room and walk there slowly, wondering how to apologize. Ever since December we’ve been playing a game of tennis with words and tonight I felt both of us relax onto the same note. Then this.

She’s sleeping when I get to her. My watch says 1am. She looks peaceful and it hurts even more.

The truth was despite acting like I didn’t, I did like Y/N but she was complicated, and the more I tried to untangle her web the more sticky things became for both of us. I didn’t want to make more mistakes than I have in the past so I’d kept my distance. Even if it hurt both of us.

Tonight was good though. Until it wasn’t. This was why I shouldn’t blur lines. You would think I’d have learned that by now.

I step by her bed, hesitating. Someone has wiped the remains of her makeup off and she looks so much younger. Like a sleeping cherub. My heart gives a squeeze.

I push back a strand of her hair, my hand wanting to do something. I settle for taking her hand in mine, it’s not the first time I’ve held it but like it always does, a flood of warmth rushes through me.

I never understood Victorian romances until her; just touching her hand got my blood pumping.

With a stroke of my thumb over her knuckles, she stirs. I freeze.

Her eyes flicker open, “Hey?”

My voice disappears. There’s too much that I want to say and nothing I’m allowed to say. Maybe a sorry. I open my mouth but she squeezes my hand. I forgot I was still holding hers.

“So much for doing nothing huh?” She cracks a smile and it breaks the marble I’d become encased in. I laugh and collapse onto the sliver of the bed.

“We should never do nothing again.”

“Nope,” she smiles, closing her eyes again.

“Y/N I’m really sorry for tonight. I feel awful-“

Her mouth parts. She was asleep.

I want to sit here with her until she wakes again, until the doctors kick us out. Something about seeing her so vulnerable here makes me want to confess the thing that’s been lodged in my chest for a long time.

I release her hand and move away from the bed. This was dangerous. Maybe I could wait in the waiting room until she’s released. Then take her home.

Something vibrates. It’s not my phone, and then I notice the purse I’d brought with us. Y/N’s.

I peek inside for the phone and her fiancé’s face takes up the screen. He looks younger. And then I remember, it’s like stepping out of the fog this night had put me in and into reality.

I pick up.

“Y/N it’s nearly 2 in the morning just tell me you’re alright? You haven’t been answering your texts I-“

“Hi,” I clear my throat and the line goes dead silent. I decide to continue. “Hey uh this is Harry. Styles. Uhm, don’t panic or anything because she is okay but she’s in hospital and-“

“What?” He comes back with a boom. “Why is she there what happened? Which hospital?”

I tell him which one, explain she bumped her head and I had to take her here. That the doctors said she would recover and be herself again soon. He simply swears and tells me he’d be there soon.

This was Y/N’s life. This was the right thing to do. Still, I stay in the room with my head in my hands and think about the whole evening again and again.

“Just tell me the bloody room…I don’t care about the time…”

The voice travels through as doors open and close in the hall and I look out. Grayson. Like a pitbull. I can see him through the rectangular window demanding to see Y/N.

I open the swinging doors and his nostrils flare as he spots me.

“Why the hell is he allowed in and not me?” He continues his tirade. “Does hospital policy not matter when it comes to the rich and famous now? I want to see her doctor and-“

The nurse turns to me, annoyed but before she can ask the question the doctor is out.

“What’s all this? Do you know the time sir, please follow me and we can talk-“

“I don’t want to fucking follow you. I want him gone and I want to see my fiancee.”

Looks are exchanged between the doctor and the nurse, finally landing on me. I imagine what they’re thinking—just another homewrecking famous rockstar, do we tell the fiancé or act cool?

“He should be able to see her,” I say in an even tone. I can feel the eyes on me, especially the laser beams from Gray.

“I thought-“

“Okay. Visitor pass him and let him in,” the doctor cuts his nurse off as she stares at me. Maybe her daughter wouldn’t get that photo tonight after all, and instead be told to pick better role models. It doesn’t matter to me. Not tonight.

I watch Gray get sorted, watch him walk down and to Y/N’s room. To his fiancée’s room.

I wonder how he feels, fighting with her last night just for y/n to end up here tonight. I wonder if that’s why he was so vocal tonight—the guilt.

But I suspected he was the kind of man that called himself easy-going and only got this raucous when another man was threatening his public image. It was pretty clear the hospital staff thought we had some pseudo-relationship arrangement. I don’t think Duran was daft enough to miss that.

Plus, I’d been the one to bring her here not him.

With a big sigh I take my phone out to call a taxi. It was my turn to go home.

I text Y/N from the car, tell her to rest over the weekend and let me know how she feels Monday morning. She could take the whole week off if she wanted but I also knew her and knew she would try to come back asap.

I try to piece back the marble armour I wore before tonight, it’s ill-fitting and hurts to get on but I do it anyway. This was why I couldn’t be the person Y/N wanted me to be; I tried to mix parts of my life together and it would only end with shite.

Y/N’s POV:

I don’t know who this man in front of me was. Or actually, I hadn’t seen him a long time.

I’d been discharged from the hospital on Saturday morning with odd looks all around. Maybe because Harry brought me in? And ever since, Grayson has been doting on me. Doting.

“Did you want anything specific?” Gray stands at the foot of the bed, asking me what he should make me for breakfast. The last time he made me a special breakfast was…last summer?

“I wouldn’t say no to pancakes?” I reply. “I looove your chocolate chip pancakes.”

“I’ll get it started,” he walks over to kiss my temple and leaves.

The weirdest part is that I feel weird; I don’t know why but Gray doting on me like this made me feel claustrophobic and…weird!

I look out the window to the overcast sky. Same, I think. At least for a Sunday, it felt fitting.

I pick up my phone and check the last response from Harry. Since I got discharged he’d been texting me to see how I was feeling. I think he was feeling guilty even though I told him it wasn’t his fault.

I tried not to drink when I was upset because back in uni it led to some shitty situations but the other night I’d overstepped my rule and done this anyway. And paid for it. I should have known better. And after the absolute misery of yesterday’s aftermath—the migraine and the vertigo and the completely lack of appetite, I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. Ever.

Today I feel a lot better. I still have a headache and I’m looking forward to breakfast with my painkiller, but the light doesn’t hurt as much and the nausea only comes back when I do too much.

You: I’ll be back in no time. Feeling better

Harry: I want you to feel the best so I’m banning you from working until Wed. And that’s conditional on you feeling better

Y: Doc said I can resume a lowkey version of my life after 48hrs

H: I didn’t like that doc. take my advice instead

Y: when did you get your md

H: same time you got yours

Y: I have an md?

H: being stubborn 101

Y: your jokes are a lot better when you text

H: cuz you’re not distracted by my face

Y: ooookay I’m no longer giving you the platform byeee

He was sassy, apparently. I never got this side of him before.

I read through the convo again and smile. But it hits me that it sounded like flirting. And that would be incredibly inappropriate. So I shove my phone in my bedside drawer and inch out of bed to join Gray.

We spend the day talking about a lot, but not about what we should talk about. Which, with the way I was feeling, was fine by me. At the same time it felt like we were both politely playing a role neither of us could put our hearts into. It felt shitty.

Gray has a session around 4 and I crawl back into bed, putting on a romcom I’ve watched a million times for comfort.

My body feels heavy and it has nothing to do with the concussion. The last couple days and my current relationship with Gray casts a shadow over my thoughts. I felt like making any decision was like wading through quicksand and running away just sounded better.

I rub my temples, hoping like a genie’s lamp, I could get an omnipotent spirit cast out and grant me easy wishes. I’d wish for things to go back to normal, for my heart not to be such a wretched thing. For clarity.

I pick up my phone and scroll to the one person I had run away from and have missed since. I didn’t talk to her very often but I thought I could use her no-nonsense approach.

My mom frets when I tell her what had happened. She goes quiet as I tell her I’d gotten drunk to forget about the troubles in my relationship.

“Relationships go through a lot of phases. It’s like going through those cave tunnels all made of rock and you gotta squeeze really tight sometimes just to fit through and continue on.”

“That is an amazing comparison mom, but I don’t know if this is one of those times. It feels like Gray’s already given up on us.”

“Well it’s been a long time he’s waited.”

“But he never said. He never talked to me.”

She sighs. “Your Grayson sure is a contemplative son of a bitch isn’t he?”

I laugh a little too hard and feel a pulse in my head. “I know. But then today he was so dang sweet—since I got home. He was so overprotective. And he made me breakfast mom and it made me realize I haven’t had that Gray in a long time.”

She’s silent on the other end. She knew there was more. How did I ever think, as a teen, my mom didn’t understand me? I think I just never understood her.

“But it felt weird.” I continue. “I feel horrible for saying it but I felt weird!”

“Was there heart?” She asks gently.

There wasn’t.

That’s what it was. And my heart weeps. All those actions without feelings.

“Have you thought about coming home?” Mom asks when the silence stretches. She always asked and I was the worst daughter in the world for never going back. The last time was when I graduated, for 2 weeks in which my family drove me crazy and I had been crazy in love with Gray and eager to get back to him.

“Maybe,” I close my eyes and slide down into bed.

“Your brother’s new girlfriend reminds me of that friend you had where she came on our camping trip and cried the whole time? What was her name?”

“Deanna? Mom I stayed friends with her all through high school! She was just very anxious.”

“I know! His girlfriend’s always darting about, jumping at tiny things. Reminds me of her.”

“Well Jace better be treating her right.”

“He does,” mom’s voice raises. “You should see them together. It’s cute but they’re still teenaged loves so I try not to break his bubble too much.”

Mom had definitely relaxed a lot since I was a teen. She had practically chased my first boyfriend away.

“Remember your first boyfriend?” She asks and I shout how I was remembering that too. We end up talking about old memories, and I feel a little more known and a little less lonely when I hang up.

Gray and I order takeout and I try to watch a movie with him but the strain on my eyes gets too much. I tell him I was going to bed and insist that he stays and finishes. I didn’t feel like watching him play boyfriend.

I’m eager to get back to work, for next week when I can go to Scotland for the MV. The eagerness comes from guilt but I carry both as I fall asleep.

***

I feel like a kid at Disneyland. Or maybe a Disney adult. Either way, I’m blown away getting to watch this MV come to life.

It’s long hours, a lot of waiting, and some shouting. But everything else is magic.

I came back to work last Thursday and other than an ear-splitting headache on the flight and a low-grade one when I stared at a screen too long, I was on my way to normal. When I got back to work Harry kept making excuses for me so I could work from the office but I refused to be treated differently and eventually he relented.

“It’s so freaking cold!” I jump up and down beside Harry by the cliffside. He’s just wrapped up a scene and the crew was taking a look at the footage to see if they needed anything more in this spot.

“Why don’t you put on more layers? Do you want an extra coat the crew might have-“

“No!” I continue wriggling around. “I’m heading back to the car in a few. This is an amazing view.”

“Isn’t it,” Harry turns to the sea that’s churning away much like my own heart these days. It feels calming to see it physically somewhere else.

We stand in silence except for my occasional teeth chattering and stare out to the view.

“Have you seen more of it?” Harry motions to the cameras. “What do you think?”

On this trip I’ve been giving my honest opinion, and I know I’ve offended Harry at least once but I didn’t come all the way here for my dream experience only to stroke his ego.

I tell him my take. We talk about the overall storyline about belonging and sacrifice until we’re interrupted with two hands holding out hot teas.

“You both looked cold,” the woman says. She was another assistant on set and I’m not sure what to do being waited on as a PA myself.

“Oh, thank you!” I make sure she knows I appreciate it. “That’s…that’s super kind thanks!”

She throws us both a smile and I stare at my cup, the heat tingling on my cold fingertips.

“Friendship and belonging yeah,” Harry starts up again.

“Yeah but also I like how you—your character, whatever, knows when it’s time to leave for his better growth. Sacrifice with his friend and sacrifice with the only home he’s known. Plus that’s a comfortable outfit.”

I tap a button on Harry’s jumpsuit. He grins. “You can have it.”

“I would be drowning in that you’re a lot taller.”

“We can have it altered,” he says. A shiver runs through me at we. I blame it on the cold.

I sip the tea now that it’s not scalding and find it’s a lot cooler. The open air, I guess.

“So you really love all this,” Harry says. “You weren’t joking about that excitement.”

“No I told you!” I flash to the night we did “nothing” which feels long ago. “I have a vivid imagination when it comes to music and I spent any spare courses on film so now I can interpret the heck out of any song and music video like my life depends on it.”

“We should get you back there,” he motions to the crew. “Get you on board.”

“Would I get the little clipboard and clapper?”

“Yeah!”

“Goals,” I sigh.

Little did I know, by Saturday as we’re filming our final scene one of the crew members hands me the clapper. He tells me I’m supposed to cut the final scene. I stare at him, thinking I misheard.

The clapboard hangs between us. He shakes it a little and I take it. It’s heavier than I thought.

“Harry asked if you can cut for the final scene, see the man behind the camera? He’ll look to you and give you the nod. Then you step in front and just do the thing.”

“Oh…” I’m still staring at the thing in my hand. My palms feel sweaty like it’s going to crash to the ground and break in two but that thought gets me to hold it closer. “Thanks.”

“Yep,” the guy walks away and I stare at the scene being filmed. Slowly I walk closer to the cameraman and he glances at me, notices the clapper, and smiles holding up two fingers.

He whispers something to someone beside him and they change the lighting. Harry walks off “screen” and I try to catch his eye to show him what I had. We catch it briefly and he winks before walking back onto the screen.

Oh my god! My heart is racing as I hold it in my hands. I had to chill. Or I’m gonna make a mess of things. It’s just a clapperboard and you’re saying one word!

Two minutes. I manage to calm down enough and when I get the signal I step in front of the camera and, as I see it later on, with the biggest grin on my face I clap down and yell “cut!”

Harry lets out a whoop and the crew cheers as the filming wraps up. I’m sure my eyes are wide as saucers as I go to Harry. He puts an arm around me and pulls me in, laughing because I tell him my heart is racing and how does he do tours when just that made me shaky.

“It gets easier,” we walk now with his arm around my shoulder. “One day you’ll be behind the camera shouting at me to move places.”

“Oooh getting to boss you around and get paid for it?” I look up at him and my breath catches because he’s handsome at every bloody angle. “Sign me up.”

He let me go and gives me a few tsks. Then he gets his phone and tells me to pose with the clapper and I do it happily. The picture shows a grinning girl with pure delight on her face.

“I’ll put that as your contact photo right,” Harry says as he gets into a jacket. “And that way at least when you call me with bad news I get to see a smile beforehand.”

“Har har,” I roll my eyes but I don’t hate the idea.

A lot of the crew decide to go out for drinks and dinner and Harry passes but I decide to go. I’d met some friendly faces and I would miss working with them, miss the overall energy, when we got back to London.

As I fall asleep that night, full and content, I realize I hadn’t texted Gray all day. I wake to check my phone and see he’d sent a text a few hours ago.

Sorry I was out for lunch with the crew. Babe it was sooooo fun I can’t wait to show you pictures when I get home.

I read the rest of his message asking how I was. I tell him my headache was gone and ask him about his week but I’ve fallen asleep before he can respond.

***

The morning I have to leave for tour I wake up way too early. Too much nervous excitement. I’d already brushed and checked my luggage was packed before crawling back into bed waiting for Gray to wake.

I watch him sleep, my eyes following the familiar contours of his face. We’d been making an effort at rebuilding the relationship since we agreed we at least had to give it a try after I got home from Scotland a month ago. On one hand it feels like starting a new relationship and also breathing easier because we were both on the same page. On the other, we’d finally started planning the wedding!

I would miss him, nearly 3 weeks away which is the longest we’ve been apart since we got together. Then I’d be home for 2 weeks, and away for the last week before Harry finishes with a couple shows in London. It was going to be epic and crazy as exhausted as I’ve been.

I huddle close to Gray and he stirs slightly but I kiss his neck to wake him.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his sleep.

“Morning,” I press another kiss to his face.

“What time?” He moves his head to kiss me back.

“Hmmm half past 7?”

He grumbles about it being so early but it stops shortly after with both of my legs on either side of him and my hair curtaining our faces.

“M’gonna miss your snooty face,” I say with another kiss. He finally opens his eyes and his hand comes up to hold my chin.

“I’ll be the one here missing you.”

“I’ll call every chance I get.”

“You’ll get to see so many new cities,” he says.

“Barely but I’m gonna try to make the most of it,” the travel schedule was hectic but I know there were a couple slower days I could use to explore cities. If I wasn’t completely exhausted.

“You’ll have a lot of fun,” he pushes my hair behind my ear.

“Remember Josie’s coming this weekend to stay the week.” Gray’s sister had taken the opportunity of a semi-empty flat to stay here while she studied for mid-terms. I had encouraged it so Gray felt less lonely.

“She’s gonna drive me crazy,” he huffs.

“Just behave,” I warn him.

“I don’t know how,” he smiles, rolling us around so he’s on top and showing me what misbehaving means. I don’t mind it a bit.

After a quick shower together we head out to the airport, Harry offered to pick me up on his way but I wanted to make sure I spent as much time with Gray as possible so he doesn’t feel like I was leaving him like before. I hoped he knew, at least, the effort I was making.

***

Stockholm, Hamburg, Oslo, and Copenhagen in one week. It was exhilarating and exhausting and hectic and so fulfilling.

I had seen Harry at small shows before but on the big stage he has a presence with a capital P. It’s amazing watching him perform and dance and be charming all over. He could be cheeky yet command the crowd at the same time. And despite all these sides he’s never inauthentic.

For the first time I’m able to take somewhat of a backseat. He already had his manager, tour manager, stylist, and tour chef with him to manage most aspects I would regularly. I became sort of an extra hand when I wasn’t having sit-down hours. That’s what I called the times I was sitting on the laptop sorting out future timelines for Harry’s life (and my wedding).

But I loved it. I’d pick a cafe close to our hotel and spend a few hours working. I’d call Gray during these times and if he was free we’d catch up on all I saw and he’d share stories with me until Josie crashed the conversation with stories of her own.

My eye bags require more concealer than usual and my body begs for nutrition but otherwise I love every second.

I’m back from my sit-down hours and get off the lift. Harry and his team were placed in the same hotel just down the hall from each other. As I approach my own door one of Harry’s band mates rushes out of his door looking stressed.

“He’s in a mood,” she huffs. “Don’t go in there.”

“Did something happen?” I ask.

She shrugs, “he gets this way. Usually at the start of tour I don’t know why. Kinda snappy just…give him space.”

I do as she says but the next morning as we wait to board our early flight to Paris he continues to be a dick to everyone.

“Maybe take a nap on the flight Haz,” one of his bandmates suggest. “We’re all bloody tired don’t be such a grump.”

“I don’t need a bloody nap stop treating me like a child.”

“What to do when you act like one.”

“You know what-“

“Woah hey c’mon.”

I startle at the commotion, I was starting to doze off but Harry rushing out of his seat and someone else stepping between him and Mitch wakes me entirely.

“Let’s stand there get some space.” Niji recommends.

Everyone follows the group away and it’s Harry, myself, and my bag left.

He glances at me, “Don’t you start too.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I could see it in your face.”

“What the hell? I was just napping I don’t even know what’s going on except that you really are being a dick.”

“There you go!” He points. “I knew you wanted to say it.”

“Guess I’m joining the others…” I pick up my bag and walk to everyone else. They’re all venting their frustrations for Harry and comfort me that he was an asshole to everyone.

It gets worse on the flight when our pilot announces we couldn’t land in Paris.

“What’s going on?” I ask our hostess.

“The weather, we apologize for the inconvenience folks but there is high winds and a lot of fog so it’s not safe to fly.”

“I have a show tonight,” Harry stands and starts to advance on the poor woman. “I need to be in Paris before 4 where are we landing?!”

“Sir we’ll be landing in the Lille airport. This is good because we’re only a few hours from the city-“

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry runs his hand through his hair.

“I understand,” the woman looks back at me and I nod, letting her know I got it.

“Harry we’ll only be delayed by a few hours-“

“I don’t have time for a few hours. We need to set up and run tests in Paris! We were supposed to be there yesterday but somebody booked the wrong shit!”

It was true, his tour manager had booked us for Monday morning rather than Sunday morning but at the time it hadn’t been a big deal since the show was 7 on Monday and we got an extra day to relax. Now it made things more stressful.

“Fuck this,” Harry mutters. The other members on the plane roll their eyes and put on headphones, sighing and looking out the window. It was obvious to everyone but Harry that this was just a minor setback.

I decide to be the idiot who enters the lion’s cage. Harry sits in the back of the plane jiggling his leg and trying to connect his phone to service.

“Are you trying to call Morgan?” I ask.

“No I’m trying to call the pope.”

“He might be sleeping.”

He looks up at me and if I wasn’t aware of how stressed he was I would laugh. Confused doesn’t even cover his expression.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to get to the show-“

“We have like a five hour wiggle room it’s just a minor-“

“I can’t perform thrown off like this!”

“There’s no reason to be thrown off!” I try to keep my volume contained but I can feel eyes on my back.

“I don’t need you right now just go.”

“So I guess the one week rule is true.” I mutter.

“What’s that?” He asks with an i-dare-you expression.

“I said the one week rule of you being an asshole on tour, I guess that was true. I wish someone told me I would have skipped it.”

“Well you could have skipped the whole thing and nobody would notice.”

His comeback is muttered but cuts like a machete and I feel like the words were physically slung at me. I stand there stunned, my heart sinking as he continues to fiddle with his phone until the call connects.

The shock wears off quickly leaving me with the familiar heat of anger. This was how I reacted to Harry and his dickish ways. How dare he? Why the fuck does he think it’s okay to treat me like this when he wanted? I clench my fist as his voice rises with Morgan.

But beneath the anger is a raw hurt, his words struck a nerve. The same one Gray had struck once. I was replaceable, and all the efforts I’ve put into my career were unimportant and unappreciated.

I snatch the phone from Harry, annoyed at hearing him talk at Morgan.

“Hey Morgan it’s Y/N, yeah it’s a minor inconvenience but if you can get a bus or something to the airport it should be…”

I look to the hostess and she flashes me two fingers and a shake of her hand.

“About 2 hours to get into the city.” I finish. I nod along to Morgan’s questions and repeat details back. “Yeah just text me on my phone, not Harry’s. We’ll sort this out.”

“Thank you y/n. I’m really glad you’re there today.”

The words are a feather on a pile of nails, it’s nice to hear but Harry’s cruel words still ring in my ear.

I hand the phone back to him, expecting a thank you or an apology, but he just takes it and slinks down in his seat.

“It’s her isn’t it?” Sarah gets up on her seat on her knees to look back at Harry. I pause as I walk up the aisle. Is was who?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mutters with his eyes glued to his screen.

“It is,” someone else says.

“Who?” Claire asks.

“Don’t take his mood personally,” Sarah says to me. “Paris is a touchy city for him.”

“Do you guys ever shut up?” Harry asks.

“No that’s why we’re your crew,” Mitch responds.

“We understand,” Sarah continues. Who was she talking about!? “Just don’t take it out on us. It’s not nice.”

Harry doesn’t respond but I sense a deflating happening on his side. Sarah’s words had gotten through to him but they’d just made me super curious.

I get filled in as we wait at the airport for our bus—Morgan had saved the day.

I hear about Harry’s french lover and how he got his heart broken a couple years ago. How the last time they were in France he had disappeared for a day and they’re all sure he visited her. How he can’t go to Paris without getting in a mood, either because he doesn’t get to see her or he’s anxious about seeing her.

“That’s like a city-specific booty-call.”

“Kinda,” Sarah laughs. “But I think he grew really attached to her so it’s a bit—he’s coming back.”

Harry stomps back to where we are, a tray of coffee in his hands. His team accepts it without a word. The world’s most famous non-verbal apology.

I watch him wearily. I still wanted a verbal apology from him, was that crazy? What he said was deeply hurtful. And hearing about his French lover makes me feel a way that I don’t like so I shut it out. I stick to the anger instead. It was easier.

He starts to warm up as we board the bus, cracking jokes with his band. I pick a seat near the front and stay there with my headphones. Aside from answering Morgan’s texts I pretend to be asleep. Eventually I do.

Someone flicks my hat, “C’mon sleepyhead! We’re in the city of love.”

“Wha?” There’s a crick in my neck and I feel rusty. But Harry’s right, we’d landed in Paris. He hovers above my seat with a jovial smile but it dies the longer I don’t return it. Serves him right. He doesn’t get to be cruel and wipe it away with coffee and a joke.

He gets the hint and boards off. I grab the last of the bags and join the group in the lobby where Morgan greets Harry like his long lost son.

“The trials aren’t over just yet,” he cringes. “I don’t know why Paris keeps fucking with me but we’re booked tight for rooms.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asks.

“Uhm well,” Morgan clears his throat. “The hotel overbooked. We have 3 rooms between the 8 of us. Luckily I have a mate who lives in town so I’ll crash at his. The rest of you need to share.”

“Morgan you’re fucking with me,” someone groans.

“No I’m sorry. I booked 5 with an en-suite but they screwed up. They’re refunding us half—I fought for that at least. I can use that to put others in another hotel if you’d like but so far I’ve only managed one room with two doubles.”

“Claire and I can share,” Sarah says.

“Good, Mitch you good with the boys?”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Uh y/n…would you like me to book you an extra room somewhere? I don’t want you to be far from the team-“

“She’ll stay with me.” Harry says. “I’m performing tonight and then we’re moving to Amsterdam tomorrow afternoon so…”

I squirm a little as all eyes fall to me. Cool. Casual. “Sure.”

“Sorted! Let’s get these bags up and out of the way. I’ll have a car waiting down here in a half hour so you can all freshen up and meet me again.”

We trudge along and get off on our respective floors.

“The truth is,” Harry says as we scan ourselves into our room. “I’m probably not even gonna use the bed for the night so it’s all yours.”

“Oh,” I look around the room. It’s got a french touch and a lush queen in the middle. I could deal with not having to share it. I’m sure my fiancé back home would be happier too. Even though I want to ask why I don’t. “Okay.”

We settle our things in silence and a part of me wants to break it and start talking about the ride and Paris but I’m still not over his earlier behaviour so I continue giving the bare minimum. He doesn’t seem to care.

We head off for tests and I end up falling asleep in one of the booths. The tiredness was really creeping up. I could sleep through all the noise the band was making.

A particularly loud screeching from feedback wakes me up. I look down to the group, everyone’s mostly broken up while tech crew tapes down some wires and connects equipment. Harry sits on the edge of the stage, swinging his feet and texting away at his phone. He’s different from the grump this morning. He’s lighter.

Charlie catches me looking and waves, I wave back. There’s a pit in my stomach that grows heavier as the day passes into night.

Paris is not the loudest but super engaged. Everyone has some reference to Harry adorned on their clothing or their face and I can tell Harry has a special connection to the group.

“And finally,” Harry says into the mic. “This is a special song for my French friends. Tonight has been a blessing and I want to merci beaucoup for showing up!”

The crowd cheers as the intro to his song comes on. I listen to the lyrics for the first time since hearing the song last year and connect the dots to what Sarah said earlier. Maybe this was the girl. Maybe this was why he wasn’t sleeping at the hotel tonight.

As we’re leaving the venue and I’m going through a mental list of everything we could have forgotten, we spot a familiar face around back.

“Riley?” Mitch spots him first. “Is that you mate?”

“Hey,” Riley like, Harry’s old assistant Riley is standing with a couple other people who are having a smoke. He squashes his and greets the band who apparently still feel fondly when it comes to him. He looks the exact same but my feelings towards him are curdled after knowing what he’s like and how he left us high and dry.

That leaves Harry and I still hovering by the entrance alone, staring at the reunion by the time Riley comes up to us. I guess the band knew his friends because they get to chatting. I remember then, Riley ditched Harry to work for one of his friends. Must be a small world.

“Why the long face you two, c’mon still not holding a grudge are we?”

“Riley,” Harry addresses him. I stay silent, watching Riley from where I stand behind Harry.

“Nice to see Y/N’s still sticking around. How are you liking tour life?”

“Did you come to the show?” I find my voice.

“Yeah,” he nods all friendly like this was casual and he’s done nothing wrong ever. “I might be biased because I worked for the guy but Harry Styles is one of my top artist. And I’m in Paris until the Fall so why not come support him.”

“Well,” Harry says in the same deadpan voice. “Thanks for the support Riley.”

Riley glances over at him, smug. He knows he’s annoying Harry. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who got enjoyment out of doing that.

“Oh c’mon you’re still upset with me jumping ship? It’s been months! Y/N we’re cool right-“

Riley moves to walk past Harry and to me but Harry side-steps to stay in his way. I look at Harry. So does Riley, confusion sliding away to amusement.

“Oh I see,” he steps back, arms crossed. “Harry you sly dog you did it again.”

“We’re going now,” Harry says. “Try not to show up at any other shows.”

Harry tried to leave and I take the few steps to follow but Riley starts again.

“So y/n you fell for his trick too? I’m disappointed I thought you were immune.” Riley continues. “How’d he get you to the bedroom? Lots of booze? Or did you not even make it to the bedroom? Was it being treated like shit that did it for you?”

“What?” Now in the middle, I look between the two, wondering how this conversation took such a bizarre turn.

“You have some obsession with me Riley?” Harry steps back towards us. “Because you sure enjoy making up stories in your head with me starring in it. Don’t rope y/n into them either.”

“Not all stories,” Riley stays smug. “Some of them I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

They had to be talking about the last PA. The story Riley told me. Which means he thinks I…

“You really should watch what you talk about,” Harry reminds him.

Riley turns his attention to me, “Y/N I thought I warned you good enough. But I guess you put out as easily as the last one.”

“Riley whatever drama you’re trying to-“

“Mate,” Harry gets in Riley’s face so he can’t even look at me. I go quiet. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I get security to kick you out permanently.”

“Being the knight in shining armour doesn’t really suit you Haz,” Riley says. With one final judgemental look thrown my way he walks away. I have to lay a hand on Harry’s arm just to keep him from lunging at him but as soon as my hand makes contact he brushes me away.

This whole interaction was ego-bruising. “Why did he think-“

“Ignore him.” Harry cuts me off, his back still to me. His band, having watched the final scene unfold, now awkwardly shuffles back to us. “You okay?”

“Yeah but why-“

“Good.”

He cuts me off from asking anything and I don’t get to push because the group tries to defuse the situation by changing the subject. That includes the girls inviting me for drinks at their favourite parisian place. Harry disappears and so do those answers.

I try to poke whether the girls at dinner knew anything about his last PA but they barely met her. So I’m forced to eat oysters when they find out I’d never had them and the subject changes quickly to new and other things.

“So oysters thumbs up or down?” I’m asked as I slowly eat another.

“Weird texture…ehh?” I hover my thumb in the middle.

“Well too bad your partner—what’s his name again?” They ask. I tell her. “Ooh good name. Too bad Grayson isn’t here to cash in on all these oysters.”

They laugh and I think I’m not drunk enough to laugh as much with.

It’s the wee hours of the morning by the time we get back to the hotel. I crash alone as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

After three weeks of tour I’m ecstatic to get back home. I wanted to sleep in the same bed for more than a day, I wanted a shower with even temperature, and I wanted a home-cooked meal.

And I wanted Gray.

I even catch an earlier flight—the night before rather than the next morning. I build up surprising Gray so much that I end up being the one who’s surprised when I come home to an empty flat.

I double check I’d set my phone back to the right time but it’s nearly 11. He must be out with friends, not a client.

I want to call him but still hold the idea of a surprise so I take a shower instead, put a load of laundry in, and make myself a sandwich. I crawl into bed at 1, still no Gray.

I end up tapping through our friends’ stories and find him in one. At least I knew where he was. But 2/3 photos I can find of him, Bex is standing too close for comfort.

I can tell by the photos there’s nothing going on. From his end. The most contact they have is his arm around her shoulder but for some reason all of this makes me mad. I’d broken it down to him that he couldn’t talk with people who had a thing for him because they would only give biased advice. But he didn’t listen. He said I was reading into it too much. And here she was, gazing up at him in every damn photo.

I hate that I wasn’t even home for a couple hours and already found something to annoy me.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after because I wake to poking on my side.

“Y/n? Is that really you? Y/n? Y/n?”

Gray.

“Hi,” I turn in bed. “I’m home early.”

“Shit!” He stands and sways back slightly. Wow, he was pissed. I hadn’t seen him this inebriated in a hot minute. “You didn’t say!”

“I know I-“

“I thought I imagined you.”

“Nope all here,” I grit my teeth. Why was I annoyed at my boyfriend for having a life, I scold myself.

Why is he so drunk and is this a new thing or did he only get this way cuz I’m not around?

“You finally came back to me,” he slurs. He smells like a brewery as he climbs into bed and I wish I could force a shower on him but I get swept up in his arms. “Hey you were right by the way.”

“About?”

“About.”

“Gray! What was I right about?”

“I’m getting to it! You. Were right. About Bex.”

“H-how do you know?” Weird coincidence. Or not?

“Sheshe she tried to kiss me!” He falls back laughing in bed. “I said nooo cuz I have a fiancée. Y/N. Oops. She was maaad.”

My heart drops. I knew it. That little bitch! And she had to go and try to kiss my man when he’s drunk! I officially didn’t like her. And the story itself adds to my irritation.

“Wow. Crazy. I’m tired as hell so I’m going to bed.”

I turn and leave my back to Gray. I didn’t want to see him this drunk, this chill about someone I warned him about trying to kiss him.

He splays on the bed where he is, draping an arm over me and pretty soon I hear his even breathing. That annoys me too, that he could fall asleep so quick. His arm is a weight over my body and I feel like I’m sinking into the bed and out of view.

***

It’s like Grayson and I have forgotten how to live with each other.

What starts out as minor annoyances turn into bickering pretty quickly. Our 1 bedroom flat begins to feel cramped and I desperately try to cling onto the idea of us because I can’t fathom us fizzling out like this but my fingernails are raw from scraping threads.

Work is the easiest it’s been in a while. With no set working hours I just spend a few hours everyday doing admin and running errands. Otherwise, unless somebody calls me I’m free.

I thought it would be great. So much free time with Gray, we could continue planning the wedding and catch up again. But he busies himself with work, and when we go on dates he doesn’t make much of an effort to talk. It’s like getting to know him all over again except he’s a broodier version of himself. It makes me mad and I end up picking fights.

I book brunch with some of the girls on the last Saturday I’m home, thinking it might help to have space from Gray and see other people. I thought everything would be fine. And it is, on a surface level—they treat me perfectly normal.

Except the only time they gave me space to talk about myself went something like this,

“So Y/N how are you? Busy touring how is that?”

“Oh yeah it was great! Really taxing but fulfilling too. I went to so many cities I haven’t visited even though I’ve been in London for like 7 years? Copenhagen was one of my fave-

“Ooh. Yeah I really want to visit Copenhagen this summer.”

“Oh I love Copenhagen…”

And I was officially asked out of sharing my own life. The rest of brunch was me reacting to everyone else’s stories and having the subject change quickly after I brought up anything about myself. When I mentioned Gray casually, I could feel the judgement. It’s like they were waiting on me to complain about him so they could pounce. It’s a weird and tiring energy.

As we all say our goodbyes I manage to catch Rebecca alone.

“Hey Bex,” I stop her on the edge of the group. “I know we haven’t talked much lately but I just want to say I don’t appreciate the moves you’re making on Gray.”

She raises a brow, “moves?”

“He told me you tried to kiss him. Those kinds of moves.”

Her face pinches. “Well someone has to make some.”

“Excuse me?” She tries to walk away but I rush to step in front of her.

“It’s no secret you and Gray are on the road to a breakup,” she has the audacity to look judgey in that moment and I want to slap the look off her face.

“What the fuck do you know about me and Gray? Back. Off.”

“Hey what’s going on?” One of our other friends drifts towards us and I notice they’re all looking our way.

“Just a friendly chat,” I say with sarcasm you can’t miss. At the same time Bex responds, “Y/n’s being delusional.”

I was going to get physical, I step back towards her but our friends get between us. I think they knew uni me, and knew I wasn’t afraid of confrontation.

“What the fuck y/n?” I was so tired of the look on their faces, like I was crazy.

“She tried to kiss Gray!” I reveal. “Last week! I’m just telling her to back off and I have every right to!”

It’s news to them. They turn to Bex who’s fidgeting with her sweater as a flush creeps up her neck.

“I-I he did! He tried to kiss me!”

I snort, “I don’t have time for your bullshit Rebecca. I’ve gotta go.”

“Oh yeah we all know you don’t have time y/n, you’re so busy these days.”

“Bex!” Someone scolds her.

“Somebody better teach her hand to keep her hand over her mouth because I will get through all of you if it means getting to her. You know you guys don’t know shit about my life. And you don’t even care to these days! Just because Gray told his sob side you guys treat me like-like shit!”

“That’s not true-“

“It is! You don’t even know my side! And I don’t care to explain because you lot are supposed to be our friends, not the judge and jury of my relationship.”

They stare blankly at me and nobody denies it so I continue: “I try so hard to stay involved in your lives knowing I can’t make it to half of our parties, I’m always messaging you guys and trying to stay on top of your socials to know what’s going on in your lives. I feel like I make all the effort and I’m just made the pariah.”

It feels good getting it off my chest. It feels amazing. I feel like I’m breathing an actual lungful of air now.

“We’re sorry if we made you feel that way.” I look at who’s said this. One of my oldest friends from uni. I scoff.

“You’re sorry if you made me feel that way?! I just said you did!”

“Sorry,” she says, quieter.

“Y’know it’s…it’s disappointing. I thought, when we became best friends first year of uni nothing could shake the bond we had. Apparently a man you met 3 years ago who vented to you about your best friend was just the thing.” All their faces are small and nobody makes eye contact with me. “Anyway, I do have to go. I have an appointment. Let’s not do this again.”

I walk away, proud of myself for saying what I had to and getting it off my chest. For sticking up for myself.

But the farther away I get, the more the adrenaline crashes through me and I end up walking onto the tube on shaky legs and collapsing in my seat. The reality of what’s happened falls into my lap and I see a bunch of burned bridges.

I spend a couple extra hours out after my appointment. I’m not going anywhere in particular, I let my feet carry me through the city as my mind continues to whir.

Harry texts me, asking me to stop by his place before I fly back for tour tomorrow evening. Apparently the concierge needed all his mail picked up and he needed a few of the items. It annoys me that he waited last minute to ask.

When I get home at 4, Gray’s vacuuming the flat. He stops it when I come in.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How was brunch?”

It’s the way he asks. I know he knows. Which means a group chat exists with our friends and him without me. It feels like another betrayal. Who keeps their partner out deliberately? Who opens up their relationship like a hockey net, open for anyone to take shots at?

“Why’re you asking?” I feel another fight coming.

“I can’t ask you how brunch went?”

“Did you hear something? Let me guess, did Bex snitch?”

“No, chill out why would Bex snitch?”

“Grayson,” I look at him deadpan. “Don’t bullshit me. If you have any respect for me, which I know now is not a lot, don’t bullshit me.”

He sighs but doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t lie and doesn’t tell the truth.

“So?” I ask. “Is there like a group chat or something?”

“Let’s just drop it-“

“No! I’m not dropping this when you brought it up. So is there? Did you disrespect me in front of all our friends by talking shit, and then do it even more by allowing them to ice me out in a group chat you knew I wasn’t part of?”

He doesn’t respond. My temper flares.

“The hurtful part isn’t even not being part of the chat, it’s that you didn’t tell me.”

It makes sense now. I was always initiating birthday messages there or privately, thinking everyone was forgetting to wish each other. Now I know I was public fool number one keeping that convo alive when they were probably all wishing each other elsewhere. God. I was an idiot!

“Look I’m sorry y/n, after you stopped showing up to things they just made a new one so they don’t bother you.”

“Oh is that why? Because that was active up until a few months ago. So according to the timeline it was probably when you fucked up and talked shit about me to all our friends and they decided I was a bitch and they should all cancel me! Well I hope you’re happy Gray!”

“I’m not! I’m sorry I didn’t realize-“

“Stop!” I slam my hand into the wall and it hurts harder than I anticipated but I bite back the pain. “Just admit it! You want to paint me as the bad guy so fucking hard, and I am in some ways I know I’m far from perfect Gray! But instead of talking to me like normal fucking people do, you just iced me out and then isolated me from the only friends I’ve ever made in this stupid fucking city!”

I can’t help the tears now even though I don’t want to cry. I want to rage and scream and throw things about but the hurt is bigger and it bubbles over the pot and sears my heart.

I leave my shopping bags where I’ve dropped them and walk back out of the door before he can come up with a response. I couldn’t stand to look at his face. He’s betrayed me over and over and the whole time I was desperately trying to show him I hadn’t changed and I loved him.

I walk the 40 minute to Harry’s and the early evening air helps me learn how to breathe again. I take in gulps of it and try not to cry. I didn’t want to waste tears on Gray and my stupid friends. I didn’t want to do any of this! I just wanted to press pause on my whole damn life and take a nap.

Outside his building I pull out my phone and make sure I don’t look crazed. My hand is killing me and I ignore the bruising blooming fresh.

The concierge spots me just as I enter, and we make small talk about Harry on tour and his last few shows that would happen in London. I make a note to mention to Harry to send him tickets—apparently his niece listened to him.

He helps me load a cart with Harry’s mail and take it upstairs.

It had been over a month since I’d been in here and it’s weird that it feels comforting. Or maybe that was just after two weeks of feeling like a stranger at home.

Harry’s words on the plane echo back to me. Not that I was appreciated here either.

If there was ever a time to go back home to the States, it would be now. But that felt like running away. I had to sort my life out here before I made any rash decisions.

With a sigh I dump the paper onto the coffee table. After sorting what looked like bills from letters from miscellaneous I spot the two envelopes Harry wanted and put it to the side. I open the boxes next and locate his custom orthopaedic inserts he asked me to grab too.

I take the extra mail to my office to sort out. In the familiar closed quarters where I’d spent too much time in the last year rolling through a hundred phases, my feelings edge out of me. I try to wipe the tears and continue on but I end up pathetically sat over on the chair crying until I can barely breathe.

It’s pathetic because this is the first space I’ve felt I had the space to cry. And it was where I worked. Where, apparently, I wouldn’t even be missed.

New tears. Less breaths.

“Get it the fuck together,” I say between gasps. “That’s. Enough.”

Through my own self-talk I manage to calm down enough to finish the work. It’s half past 8 by the time I get back to the main living area. I get water to rehydrate myself and stay sitting on the couch staring into space for another ten minutes. I don’t think I had any more tears to cry. Just a rock in place of my heart and another bigger one attached to my ankle.

“Okay,” I finally get the courage to head home.

The end isn’t big and explosive. It’s a simple statement: I think we both know what needs to be done now.

I don’t fight him this time. I have no fight left in me. I just nod.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and still drop you off tomorrow,” he reassures me.

“Just sleep in bed,” I couldn’t even muster enough energy for expression. My flat tone is how I felt. “You don’t fit on the couch. And I’ll get myself to the airport.”

“No I’ll take you. I’ve already made the arrangements-“

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore Gray,” I say. He looks crestfallen and it irks me that he does. I didn’t want him to be sad, it was ridiculous but it was.

“Well I’ll take you anyway.” He says then turns back to the TV.

I wash the day off and make sure everything is packed for my early flight tomorrow. As I lay in bed alone I realize this might be the last time I ever sleep here. Like this. I would have to move all my shit out. Oh god, the wedding. I’d have to cancel my dress shopping dates and the cake testing, the invites we were still designing.

We’d only told our friends it was going to be a winter wedding, I’m glad we never gave them a date. Nobody had marked their calendars. Nothing about us would been permanent.

I look down at the simple ring on my hand. Everything but that.

I keep it on.

I’m still awake when Gray comes to bed but I pretend to sleep. My mind can’t stop making lists to answer: what now.

I’m in a fugue state all night and the only thing that clears the fog is the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink.

Quiet, so I don’t wake Gray, I get up and dressed. I order a taxi and try not to linger on the hurt of doing this alone. Of Gray waking up to an empty bed.

The flight to Madrid is a couple hours and I miraculously nap through it. Everyone is happy to see me when I get back, especially when I present them with snacks they’d all said they missed from home while we were on tour. With them in hand, I’m an angel in their eyes.

I hand Harry his mail and he stops me. His eyes don’t stop examining my face.

“What happened to your hand?” He asks.

I’d picked up a bandaging kit and ice pack at the airport and with the help of Youtube, wrapped it up. It had started to bruise even worse but I couldn’t be arsed to deal with it even though it hurt. Nothing a few painkillers couldn’t fix.

“I accidentally got it caught in a door,” I lie easily. I had practiced. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you get it checked?”

“No.”

“Make sure you do, tonight’s show.”

“Sure. It’s really nothing though.”

“You sure?” He asks. His gaze is unnerving.

“Mhm,” I nod.

He’s silent, eyes scanning my face. Right as I decide I couldn’t take the scrutiny he asks, “Why were you crying last night?”

I stare, unsure what kind of trick he was playing.

“Sorry.” He laughs to himself. “I have one of those uh, motion sensor cameras in the entryway. I turn it on while I’m away so it sends like, automatic clips if there’s movement. I saw you come in and leave.”

“Oh.” Shit. Think fast. Think fast. “I uhm, got into it with some friends I had a meal with. Y’know…they were being a bit icy cuz of what they’ve heard. I’m over it though.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicker down to my hand.

“Yeah.” I hold his green eyes for a moment, to reassure him I’m okay. I don’t know why he cares, maybe because I looked like a right mess last night as I left. How embarrassing. But I do my best acting job ever.

Satisfied, he lets me go. I return to the group asking for updates and any stories they wanted to share. Before long I’m laughing along and creeping out of my depressed mood. But something heavier still lingers.

***

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I had two quick questions about one of my characters.

She lost one of her eyes as a child (she had it removed as a child due to cancer) and now she wears an eye prosthesis. She's a very friendly, outgoing, funny person and she's a fashion designer.

Question 1

I know a lot of people like to customize their canes/wheelchairs/etc. and have them in fun colors, put stickers on them, etc. and since she loves making and wearing tons of fancy, cool outfits, I thought it would be fun if she had customized eye prosthetics.

I've seen ones that look like gemstones, funky patterns, and even smiley faces and that seems like something she would love, but I'm not sure if that would be bad in some way?

I guess I just don't want it to come across as me saying disability aids need to look super cool and crazy or else they're boring? She does have a normal one that she wears most of the time, but sometimes she just likes to have fun with it and wear a wacky colorful one, especially when she's dressing up.

Question 2

She's a very funny person and she loves making jokes and pulling pranks. I know a lot of people with prosthetics like to make jokes with them (for example I've seen one of those "this outfit is super expensive" videos but the twist was that most of the cost came from their prosthetic arm, which they proceeded to swing around inside their shirt).

She's absolutely the kind of person to make those types of jokes, but I want to make sure it doesn't go too far or come off as offensive or rude.

One of the jokes I was thinking about is her pretending to sneeze, popping out the eye, and then going "omg I sneezed so hard my eye fell out!" only to reveal that it's a prosthetic.

Another one would be someone asking her to keep an eye on something and she goes "Yeah man I got this" so she pulls the prosthetic out and sets it down on whatever she's supposed to "keep an eye on".

(Don't worry she's going to clean the prosthesis after setting it on stuff lol).

Hello!

Having custom prosthetic eyes is completely fine and, at least in my opinion, doesn't imply that they need to be cool/fashionable/fun/etc. It's just another way for your character to express herself!

Something to consider, however, (Especially if you're going for realism) is that prosthetic eyes are expensive and, depending on your character's circumstances, her insurance would likely only cover one (And a fairly simple/basic one at that). Custom made prosthetics are always going to be a lot more expensive and a lot less likely to be covered by her insurance.

You mentioned that she's a fashion designer, however... if she has some connections in the fashion community, she may have easier access to those kinds of prosthetics than other people would. Maybe she knows people that make them? Or maybe she can trade favours/designs for them? Either way, it could be a solution or even just an interesting plot avenue to explore.

In response to your second question, writing characters making jokes about their disabilities is fine but you want to be careful about how you go about it -- especially if you're not disabled in that way yourself. It's a bit of a balancing act to make sure your character isn't being written to be the comedic relief (Which is, unfortunately, something that happens with a lot of disabled characters).

Although the jokes seem to be in fine taste, I do have some logistic concerns with them.

For the sneezing one, I'm not sure she'd be able to pop it out that quickly and, if she can, it wouldn't be the best idea. Popping the eye out quickly is a great way to drop and damage it and, as mentioned, they are EXPENSIVE.

Taking the prosthetic eye in and out frequently also increases the likelihood of causing damage to the eye by irritating the socket or turning the eyelashes inward which, trust me, is NOT comfortable. You would also want to be careful with setting it on random objects. Because the prosthetic eye is going directly into the eye socket, you really don't want it to be dirty when you put it back in and if they're out and about, it may not be possible to clean it properly right away.

This isn't to say you can't do this. It could be funny once or twice but doing it regularly could have some not-so-ideal consequences so it's good to keep this stuff in mind.

You didn't ask about this but I'd just like to mention: Be careful about writing self-deprecating jokes about her disability. It can get VERY uncomfortable for your readers very quickly, especially if you don't have that/a similar disability. Honestly, I'd advise that able-bodied writers avoid writing these kinds of jokes for their physically disabled characters in general.

Overall, your character sounds great and very well thought out! I'm glad to see more characters that are blind from illness/medical causes rather than the usual traumatic incident.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[infamous-light]

Captured Part VI

Dark! Wandanat x Villain/Mutant! F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

AO3: Captured

Summary: You and your mutant friends have been in hiding due to the havoc you all wreaked over the past few years. One day, you all decided to make your presence known and rob one of the largest federal reserve banks in the U.S.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned for you.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: Allusion to non-con (it's not explicit), mind manipulation, kidnapping

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the broken windows of an abandoned rowhouse, you slouched in an old armchair, its once plush fabric now tattered and worn. Your fingers idly traced the frayed edges as you listened to the murmurs of your friends surrounding you.

To your left, Caleb paced back and forth, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands standing on end with static. Wes leaned against the back wall, idly flipping a switchblade open and closed.

Aria sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, her fingers flying across the keys of her laptop, the screen casting a faint glow on her face. Ellie stood by one of the windows, peering out into the darkening neighborhood, her expression unreadable.

“We need a lot of cash, and we need it fast,” Caleb muttered, rubbing his temples in frustration. “We've got debts to some dangerous people, and you know they're not the patient type.”

Wes nodded solemnly. “We could always hit up another drug stash.”

Ellie shook her head. “We've hit up every dealer in Baltimore already. We need something bigger. Something that can last us long term.”

“True. I guess we can't keep relying on small-time gigs.” Wes added, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

The air grew heavy with desperation as everyone racked their brains for a solution. And then, like a beacon of hope in the darkness, Caleb's suggestion cut through the silence.

“What about the Federal Reserve Bank in New York?” He said, his voice tinged with excitement.

Your heart skipped a beat as the weight of his proposal sank in. The Federal Reserve Bank. One of the most heavily guarded institutions in New York City.

Your eyebrows rose as you glanced at Caleb. “The Fed? Seriously?”

“Yeah, think about it,” Ellie chimed in. “All that money just sitting there, waiting for someone to take it.”

“Hold on just a moment,” Aria interjected. “The federal reserve doesn’t actually hold cash.”

A collective sigh rippled through the group, and Caleb threw his hands in the air in frustration.

“Well, there goes my idea.” He grumbled.

Aria held up a hand, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. “But it does hold something far better. Gold bars. Thousands of them.”

That revelation sparked a renewed fervor among everyone.

“We'd just need a solid plan,” you said cautiously, trying to sound practical despite the excitement building inside of you. “If we manage to pull this off, we have to leave the country as soon as possible. We'll need to lay low for a couple of years again. Is that a risk we're all willing to take?”

The weight of your words hung heavy in the stale air of the building. But the lure of the heist, the promise of freedom and wealth, overshadowed any doubts.

“What places are you thinking of?” Wes asked.

“Well, we could stay in Belarus or Slovakia for a start and then go from there.” You replied, giving him a half shrug.

Aria nodded thoughtfully; her expression serious as she considered the logistics. “Yeah, those countries could work. We'd need a safe house, somewhere off the grid.”

You leaned back into the armchair, its worn upholstery creaking beneath you, and gave your friends a grin.

“So, let's hear it then. How do you propose we pull off the heist of the century?”

***

You stirred from your slumber, feeling the gentle sway of someone shaking your shoulder. Slowly, you blinked your eyes open to see Wanda leaning over you with a smile. She was wearing a flowing sundress, the fabric rustling around her as she shifted on her feet.

“Wake up, darling.” Wanda whispered, her voice a soothing melody that pulled you from the depths of sleep.

Groggily, you stretched and yawned. As your senses came back to life, you realized you had dozed off on the couch, the television playing an ad in the background. Wanda leaned in a little closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheek.

“It's almost dinner time,” she said. “Are you hungry? Would you like us to fix you something to eat?”

You nodded mechanically, more out of habit than genuine hunger. Your gaze drifted past Wanda's shoulder to the clock on the wall. Its hands moved steadily, showing the time to be 4:50 PM.

With a small sigh, you realized how much of the day has already slipped by unnoticed.

“I think I'll go take a shower.” You murmured.

The words were heavy on your tongue as you pushed yourself up from the couch. Wanda nodded understandingly, her expression warm and patient as she gave you space to gather yourself.

“Of course, take your time.” Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she straightened up.

Your eyes shifted across the living room, and you noticed that Natasha sat at a nearby table, engrossed in her laptop. The sight of Natasha on her laptop triggered a sharp pain in your skull, and suddenly, the image of Aria sitting in front of her own laptop in your dream came rushing back to you.

For a moment, you found yourself frozen in place.

You stood there, lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts. Natasha's gaze lifted from her laptop; her expression inscrutable as she met your eyes.

She broke the silence, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of restraint. “Do you need something?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

“Uh-no, I'm just feeling pretty tired.”  You replied, your voice slightly hoarse.

“Alright.” Natasha said plainly.

She returned her attention to the screen, seemingly unperturbed by the exchange.

Feeling Wanda's light touch on your left shoulder, you looked up to meet her gaze, only to find her giving you a strange look.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice laced with genuine worry. “You seem... distant.”

You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it felt forced on your lips.

“I'm okay. I think I stood up too quickly.”

Wanda studied you for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, before nodding slowly.

“Alright,” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. “Go take a shower. It might help you feel more awake.”

You offered her a grateful nod before leaving the room, the weight of uncertainty still heavy on your mind.

With each step toward the bedroom, the remnants of the dream clung stubbornly to your mind, like tendrils of fog refusing to dissipate. The hallway stretched out before you and you soon reached the center where it split into two. You found yourself at a crossroads, both figuratively and literally.

You glanced down the hallway to the right, where the dim light revealed a series of closed doors leading to other rooms. You didn't have the chance to wander down it last time. Your mind flickered with the idea of discovering more about your surroundings, searching for potential escape exits or hidden passages.

As you looked back toward the living room door, you caught the sound of Wanda and Natasha talking, their voices mingling as they discussed what you all should have for dinner.

No.

There wouldn’t be enough time to do what you needed to do. With a heavy sigh, you pushed aside the urge to snoop around and instead made your way to the bedroom.

As you entered, your eyes drifted toward the only window in the bedroom. Memories of examining the window in the storage room flickered briefly in your thoughts. You approached the window, your hand hovering over it. You placed your palm flat against the cool surface, feeling the smoothness of the glass beneath your touch. But as you did, a sense of disappointment built up within you.

It was made of the same tempered glass as the storage window. Despite the discouragement, you wouldn’t give up. You turned away from the windowsill and stepped into the bathroom, intent on taking a refreshing shower to help clear your mind.

***

You sat at the dinner table, your fork clinking against the plate as you absentmindedly pushed the food around. Wanda was to your right, her expression content as she delicately picked at her own meal. Natasha sat across from you, her gaze fixed on her plate.

Despite the palpable atmosphere, Wanda remained unfazed, engaging you in conversation as if everything was normal.

“Are you enjoying your meal, honey?” Wanda asked, her voice warm and inviting.

You glanced at Natasha, catching her eye for a moment before turning your attention back to Wanda.

“Yeah, it's great.” You said, attempting to sound cheerful.

Wanda's smile faltered for a brief moment, a hint of doubt flickering in her eyes before she smoothed it away with practiced ease. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, wishing for this tension between you and Natasha to end sooner rather than later.

As dinner came to an end, you started to stand, ready to help with the cleanup, but Wanda stopped you with a gentle touch on your arm. “There’s no need to worry about that. Why don't you pick out something for us to watch while we take care of this?”

You hesitated for a moment, but you nodded, grateful for Wanda's gesture to get you out of this situation.

“Sure.”

You headed to the living room, leaving Wanda and Natasha to clean up the remnants of dinner.

Once you entered the living room, you noticed that the couch lacked its usual array of cozy blankets. It seemed oddly bare without them. With a mental note to grab some from the nearby closet, you reached for the remote and scrolled through the options on one of the streaming services.

You paused, your finger hovering over the OK button as you debated between a classic comedy or a gripping thriller. Eventually, you settled on ALF, hoping its humor would help lighten the mood.

With the TV show playing in the background, you made your way over to the closet and opened the door. The hinges creaked as the door swung open, revealing a bunch of blankets and throws neatly folded on the shelves.

You reached in, your fingers grazing the soft fabric as you searched for just the right one to bring back to the couch. You selected a blanket large enough to cover you all, its warmth already promising to chase away the chill that seemed to permeate the room.

Closing the closet door, you sighed, ready to get the night over with. But just as you were about to turn around, the TV suddenly turned off, casting the room into unexpected darkness. Startled, you froze, the blankets slipping from your grasp.

Heart pounding, you slowly turned the rest of the way, your eyes widening as you caught sight of Natasha standing by the couch. You could see the faint outline of her features, illuminated by the glow of the hallway light filtering through the partially closed door.

“Natasha,” your voice trembled slightly, surprised by her sudden appearance. “Is everything okay?”

Natasha's piercing gaze was fixed on you, her eyes burning with a mixture of anger and wounded pride. A cold chill swept through the room, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that whatever was happening was far from over.

Without a word, she advanced toward you. You took a step back, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“You think you can just deny me?” Natasha's voice cut through the silence like a knife, her tone dripping with venomous contempt.

Before you could respond, Natasha closed the distance between you two in an instant, her hand shooting out to grab your arm in a vice-like grip. The suddenness of it all caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but wince as a jolt of pain shot through your forearm. Her grip was like iron, the force of it leaving bruises to already bloom beneath her fingertips.

“Please, Natasha, stop! You’re hurting me!” You cried out, trying to wrench your arm free from her grasp.

Natasha's grip only tightened, her nails digging into your skin with cruel determination.

With a swift motion, she shoved you backward, sending you stumbling against the couch with a startled gasp. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you braced yourself for another attack. Instead, Natasha loomed over you, her expression twisted into a mask of rage and frustration.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Natasha demanded as she folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes pierced into yours with an intensity that made you squirm internally.

You wanted to resist her control, to break free from this terrible situation. But on the other hand, there was a nagging fear low in your gut, a fear of what she was capable of if you dared to defy her.

“I-I'm just nervous.” You forced out, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. Your palms felt clammy, and you resisted the urge to fidget under her scrutiny.

“I can tell.” Natasha retorted, her tone dry and devoid of sympathy.

“It’s just-I’m not used to doing this kind of thing.” You confessed, the admission leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Well, you'll get used to it.” Natasha said as she stepped closer. Her hand reached out, fingers tracing a path along your jawline. You shivered under her touch.

“You need to relax,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “You'll enjoy it, I promise.”

A surge of nausea churned in your stomach, bile rising in your throat at the implication of her words. The thought of succumbing to Natasha's desires against your will filled you with a deep, primal dread.

Natasha’s movements were deliberate as she moved to straddle your hips, pinning your body against the couch. Every inch of your body screamed at you to fight back, to push her away, but you forced yourself to remain still. Her lips then curled into a predatory smirk, her eyes alight with desire.

Natasha leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. “You can't stay nervous forever.” She whispered.

Her hands roamed your body with possessive urgency, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your skin crawled beneath her fingertips, and you fought the urge to recoil. Tears began to well up in your eyes as Natasha's lips brushed against your pulse point.

A wave of revulsion crashed over you, accompanied by a sickening sense of resignation. The line between desire and coercion blurred, leaving you trapped in a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.

[the-badger-mole]

In the debate between pro-aang-kill-ozai and anti-aang-kill-ozai. Which side are you on and why? If it's the anti then did you like how it was done or do you picture something else?

I think I've mentioned before, but I am not inherently against Aang not wanting to kill Ozai. Some of my favorite heroes have a no-kill policy. I don't even mind the lionturtle solution itself. What I didn't like was how it was handled. There was plenty of time to address Aang's reluctance to kill before the second to last episode. I can think of three points in particular where it would've been thematically appropriate and given Aang's bland, two-dimensional character some depth.

First, right after the siege at the Northern Tribe. Aang may not have technically been the one who killed all those Fire Nation soldiers, but it couldn't have happened without him. You would think that someone who is both committed to pacifism and also the one the entire world is relying on to end a war that people have been fighting and dying in for a century wouldn't just be able to shrug off what happened. Aang did, though. Didn't even cross his mind when he was whining about people expecting him to kill Ozai.

What should have happened was the next season should've opened with Aang grappling with what happened and his part in it. He should feel guilty about it, not because he was actually wrong, but because it should feel wrong to him. Then, Katara and Sokka should comfort him and tell him he did nothing wrong. Build it up that their word are comforting him a little, then drop the bomb when they start talking about how cool it was. How amazing it was to see all those soldiers running in fear for once. How relieved they are that so many of them died. Then have Aang snap on them about the sanctity of life. He needs to be angry and hurt, and this should be the point where he decries the powers of the Avatar. He'd call himself a monster, and maybe he would call Katara and Sokka monsters, too. Then they (probably mostly Sokka) would argue with him that they aren't monsters, they're just trying to survive, and the Fire Nation is a threat to be taken out. This would be the first time it's brought up that Katara, Sokka...the entire world expect Aang to kill Ozai. I think it would be perfect as a season 2 opener. Season 1 was light and goofy, and Zuko was their biggest immediate threat. The siege raised the stakes, and season 2 should continue on that rising. Aang should also have started looking for another solution here. In the library, Aang should've asked Wan Shi Tong if it was possible to end the war without more violence. We should've seen Aang coming to terms with the fact that the world is suffering and he is the one they are looking to to save them. One thing I think the Harry Potter movies in particular did well was that shift from goofy and whimsical to darker and more frightening (as far as kids movies go) as the story went on and the stakes got higher, and the danger felt more real to the characters. Aang never gets that realization. He has moments when the danger feels real, but he's goofy and whimsical for pretty much the entire series until the plot of an episode needs him not to be.

The second place they should have brought up his reluctance to kill was DoBS. This really should've been a no brainer. Aang was loosing sleep over facing Ozai. He had his anxiety about losing- though not really what losing would mean for his friends and the world- but he didn't even consider what winning would take. If DoBS had been successful, there's no way Ozai would've been able to be taken alive. Logistically, killing him would've been the easiest, safest option. You mean to tell me no one brought it up? No one asked Aang how he was planning to take Ozai out? No, instead we get Aang proving he knows what enthusiastic consent looks like and taking away his excuse for what happened later, but nothing about Aang weighing his personal beliefs against the needs of the world. That training montage and confrontation that he has with his friends in the second to last episode should've happened here. This should've been when his tendency to run away should've been challenged, too, because half a season before he was crying about how he abandoned the world again. Now his instinct would be to run, but his friends would challenge him, calling back to that moment. They could demand that he present an alternative to killing Ozai. I don't think any of them would object to him living to stand trial, but Ozai is a rabid dog, essentially. He needs to be put down. Aang's got nothing, but not for lack of trying. When he tells his friends about all his efforts to find a non-lethal way to defeat Ozai, they are unmoved. They are at the doors of the Fire Nation, and now is not the time to be indecisive. He has to go face Ozai. And he's probably relieved when the plan fails. This whole situation would have the added bonus of skipping that first Kataang kiss because no way would Aang want to kiss Katara after her insisting he terminate Ozai with extreme prejudice.

The third place Aang's no-kill policy should've come up is TSR when Zuko asks him what he's planning to do when he faces Ozai if he's so against killing. This should scare Aang, and it should be his focus for the rest of the season. He should be more withdrawn from his friends, because with all the training he's doing (and he would still be training on all the elements because he's not that good at any of them), talks about the most efficient way to kill would be unavoidable. Katara might actually try to teach him bloodbending. Toph would just tell him that a big rock is just as effective as some fancy bending move. Zuko would be warning him about his father's ruthlessness and cunning. This would be where Aang looses his patience with his friends and insists that he's a pacifist and Ozai doesn't deserve to die. This would piss Katara in particular off because by this point, Aang knows what happened to her mother. He would get an earful about how Ozai's plan is to do to the Earth Kingdom what his grandfather did to the Air Nomads and how he's going to let millions of people die because of his refusal to kill one. Now, Aang can take off, only instead of just running away from his friends because he doesn't want to hear them anymore, he could be making one desperate last ditch attempt to find a solution that both ends the war and keeps him from having to kill Ozai. EIP could still happen in this circumstance, but instead of getting mad that he's being played by a girl, he would focus more on how eager for his death the Fire Nation is. That would come up in the argument about killing Ozai.

Now, for the lionturtle. I'm about to blow some minds. I have been vocal about my hatred of the Lionturtle/Rock of Destiny desu-ex-double team, and I do still hate it with a passion. However, as a concept, I don't mind the lionturtle. This is a fantasy adventure. You expect a bit of magical intervention. What I wanted was Aang grappling with this problem for more than half an episode. I wanted him working on a solution the entire time, starting from right after the siege. I wanted to see him take initiative. To actually think about the problem. Maybe have him specifically looking for the lionturtle. Then when it shows it, it could be because it knew Aang was looking and decided he was worthy of a meeting. Aang could still have his meeting with his past lives, and that could still go the way it did. Then the lionturtle could speak up. Instead of poo-pooing the idea of killing Ozai, it could agree that it was the most effective way to make sure that the war would end. Then, when Aang is despairing that he'd wasted all that time trying to find a different solution, the lionturtle could offer the spirit bending. But it would have to come at a cost, and it might not work the way that Aang hoped. Now Aang has to make a choice. Sacrifice something for this spiritbending ability (I'm thinking he loses his airbending, because it seems poetic) that might not have the outcome he's hoping for, or give up his pacifism- one of his few connections to his heritage- and kill Ozai. He chooses the spiritbending. Instead of the conveniently placed rock, Aang would actually have to give up his attachment Katara. I think he would be half-way there, having finally realized how little he understood her. He "loved" her because she was pretty and took care of him, but he's come to realize there's a lot more facets to her that he hasn't gotten to see because they don't fit his narrow view of her. He also understands what Guru Pathik was trying to tell him about one person not being able to replace everything Aang has lost, and he realizes how unfair to her he had been. He still loves her, but as a friend and caretaker. This will actually lead to a deeper friendship between them. Aang defeats Ozai without killing him, but now he has to deal with the loss of his airbending, which only now does he realize was a much of a connection between him and his people as his beliefs. He still has spiritbending. He can still airbend in the Avatar State, but he's effectively cut off a limb to keep his integrity. He will go the rest of his life wondering if it was worth it, especially after Ozai goes to trial and is sentenced to execution anyway. The effects of that on his children could be explored in LoK.

TL;DR I don't have a problem with Aang not wanting to kill Ozai. I just wanted to see him deal with it before the last minute. I think the show would've been better for it, and Aang would've been a more interesting character.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Something that confused me is why the Animorphs didn't kidnap Tom and wait three days for his Yeerk to starve early on.

Maybe it was explained in a latter book.

But the Animorphs seem to never rely on kidnapping a controller and letting their Yeerk starve.

The problem I see is twofold:

Drawing attention to Jake

What do they do with him once they've got him?

For #1, the issue is that — until very late in the series — Tom's yeerk just isn't important enough to justify the "andalite bandits" putting that much effort into killing him. If that yeerk disappears, it begs the question of how the resistance knew Tom was a controller, and what's so special about him. If I was a yeerk, the first thing I'd do in response is infest Jake, Steve, and Jean. The Animorphs have to avoid attention, until eventually they have enough allies to come out in the open.

For #2, again there's a solution late in the series (hork-bajir valley) but in the beginning they don't have anywhere to stash a non-morphing human. Look at all the problems they run into with housing David — and David can come on missions with them. Tom's not Ax or Tobias; he can't feed or shelter himself. If he's on the run from the whole Yeerk Empire, he can't stay home or even in civilization. His survival skills include... jump shots? flirting with girls? It'd be a logistical nightmare, when these kids are already super-busy.

Also, a character consideration: Jake is so obsessed with Tom being his problem and his problems never becoming those of his team. If Jake could figure out a way to get Tom out alone, he might do it, but his personality justifies him never really trying.

[bestworstcase]

brief preliminary list of things i am going to be unhinged about for the indefinite future:

MYSTERY KINDRED LINK. WHO. WHO?!

"and when it turns out to be just another run-of-the-mill patrol..." HBHKSDFHG god. the fact that mysterious important top secret missions regularly turned out to be non-issues... salem was IGNORING HIM LMAO

implied time-skip but i think not a very long one; we have amity plonked onto a carrier ship and what's left of the atlesian air fleet, plus a handful of ships from other kingdoms, but no grimm. salem isn't here yet. tyrian and mercury probably are. loose estimate, probably a couple weeks? qrow et al being in solitas still at the end of v8 makes the quick turnaround logistically plausible

salem routed the fleet lmfao

"one brother [light] believed they had disrupted the balance, while the other [dark] refused to condemn their creations for their mistakes" hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

in the ever after's terms, dark's purpose is destruction for the sake of new life—i was dead to rights on him being a god of cyclical change—and the conflict with his brother began with dark defending the lives of their creations. light decided that they [the brothers] made a mistake and wanted to "fix" that mistake by getting rid of it, dark said no.

dark is unambiguously the good guy here.

the annihilation of humanity was essentially dark recanting his original stance and accepting his brother's position that their creations are "mistakes" that must be eradicated

except he didn't (or couldn't) eradicate salem, humanity rose again, and light is still on the "eradicate the mistake" train with dark nowhere to be found. either 1. dark completed his ascension by coming to understand his brother's perspective and became something new [the relics?], or 2. dark regretted this after the fact and directly had a hand in bringing humanity back, or 3. if he left salem alive on purpose the whole thing was a gambit to repeat the ever after's solution to their conflict, leaving remnant behind because remnant could not bear their experiments any longer.

dark + humanity vs light endgame real

unless dark ascended and light did not, in which case the ultimatum is probably coming from a place of grief—light doing the very thing he condemned salem for.

the immediate narrative rebuke for turning their backs on the cat:

in juxtaposition with ruby's overt sympathy and concern for neo, and the blacksmith's sympathy for both neo and the cat, and the implication that the cat can now ascend [note the hawker's statue too—neo's jabbers couldn't permadeath people]... juicy

raven and summer stayed in touch. raven was summer's confidante; she doesn't just know what happened to summer, she knew well in advance what summer had planned and was herself integral to that plan. and in the ten+ years since this night she hasn't said a word about it to anyone.

raven trusted her

raven was probably closer to summer than to her own brother

whatever raven learned, whatever horrors she brought back, she told summer. and summer believed her. and they kept it to themselves, and made this plan.

"if i do this right, there's nothing to worry about. trust me." you sound just like your mother (derogatory). oh raven absolutely got a team salem recruitment pitch from summer after this.

and she's keeping that secret too

this is how they're looping raven back into the story btw

ruby knows that raven knows but she doesn't know exactly what raven knows so she's going to need to find raven to ask

raven: summer is a better mom than i could ever be

also raven: [continually dragged kicking and screaming back into the story by inescapable motherhood]

"you're really leaving them?" "you're one to talk" oh that's JUICY

even taking into account raven's heels, summer is fucking tiny

[heretek-birth]

Two-Stage Pregnancy (Part 2)

Part 1 Part 2.5 The Whole Story For the first week she spent with her baby's head just barely inside her, Sarah's mind was consumed by all the little inconveniences.

It still felt like there was a bowling ball between her hips - which there pretty much was - and the urge to push never did quite go away. She could feel the head pressing downwards whenever she stood, and she could feel it being pushed back up inside her if she ever sat down wrong. Her bladder capacity was near-zero now, and going to the bathroom was, to put it mildly, a "logistical challenge."

Sex was- Sex was different now. Penetration was off the table. They couldn't even do anal - there just wasn't enough room. That didn't mean they had to stop, though, they just spent a lot more time with their heads between each other's legs. Another thing that changed was her libido. The head of the baby would constantly press on Sarah's clit from the inside, leaving her pent-up and needy after a long day of being teased like that.

"Labor attacks" were another fun feature of her new life. Sarah regularly took labor suppressants to stop her body from going back into labor and trying to give birth too early, but it wasn't a bulletproof solution. Usually these weren't too bad - she would have a few cramps, take another pill, and then wait it out - but occasionally, when they would come on more strongly or stay for longer, she would be left panting and cupping her hand over the head as the contractions intensified her urge to push. The "Survivor's Guide" she received discussed these attacks in detail. It seemed like nearly anything could cause them - standing or walking too much, bending over or squatting, heavy lifting, eating too much, eating too little, stress, dehydration, spicy food - the list went on. The guide also emphasized the importance of taking her medication as soon as possible; this is a slow-acting drug, and it needs as much time as possible to get to work.

A final thing that Sarah had to think about was stopping the head from sliding out whenever she stood up. She had a few options there, none of them very good. She could keep the head in with very tight-fitting, thick underwear, but these were very uncomfortable to wear for long periods of time. For anything more than a quick trip to the store, this wouldn't work. She could simply go without, not wearing any pants at all. At home, Sarah usually did this, simply holding the head in with her hand or sitting with a pillow between her legs. This was quite comfortable, but wasn't a viable solution if she ever had to leave the house. At work, Sarah settled on an unhappy compromise. She did her best to stay sitting throughout the day, and relied on some more normal underwear to keep the head in when she had no other choice. Feeling her baby very slowly slide out whenever she stood up was quite distressing, but she could usually avoid needing to cup her crotch in the middle of the office - people are usually pretty accommodating to the heavily-pregnant, after all.

It was on her way home from work, about a month into her three-month "stage two", that Sarah felt a few contractions. They were light at first, and she wasn't too concerned. She waited for a red light to reach into her purse for her pills. She felt another, a little stronger, as she searched fruitlessly, coming up empty-handed as the light turned green again. FUCK - it hit her like a bolt of lightning. She knew where the pills were - sitting at home. And home was at least half an hour away. The dire warnings of various medical professionals ran through her mind; that these pills should be taken immediately with the onset of contractions, and that the longer she delayed the worse things would get.

Another contraction struck her, and she fumbled for her phone. This was bad, and she needed to let her husband know to get ready. "Hi, honey," she did her best to sound calm.

"Sarah? Is everything okay?" Dave instantly picked up on the note of alarm in her voice.

"No, not really. I left my pills at home."

"Shit." There was only one reason that would be an emergency. "How bad is it?"

"Pretty-nnngh-" Sarah winced as another contraction hit her, stronger than the last. "Pretty bad. They're getting closer together. I was walking around a lot today, too."

"Alright. Just hang in there, get home as soon as possible."

"Yeah. I'll do what I can. Can you get things ready at home? I'll call you when I get close."

"Will do." He hung up.

Not all of the "Survivor's Guide" was equally attention-grabbing, but one part in particular stuck in her mind. At the end of the more mundane tips to help with labor attacks came a section on handling a "worst-case scenario."

"Under no circumstances allow the head to be born," it reads, "if the contractions become more frequent and severe, it might get harder, but there are still ways you can make sure your baby will make it through to the full twelve months."

"The best piece of advice I can give is simple: don't push. Now, that might sound easier said than done right now, but it really is important. Even if it seems like it's impossible, I promise you that it's worth it to hold off as long as you can."

Sarah did her best to follow the guide's advice. When her contractions came, she made use of the breathing she had practiced earlier, pressing the bulging head firmly against the seat of her car. While it was by no means a comfortable state to be in, her efforts did manage to keep the head in place, if only just.

"If you manage to take a pill in the first few minutes of the attack, usually this is all you need; you can probably get through this without pushing at all, and I encourage you to try. However, if this isn't the case, you'll still be just fine. Things might be a little harder, but plenty of mothers have been in your exact position and gotten through this same thing."

Sarah continued to drive as she felt the contractions get more and more frequent. Home wasn't far off now, and she called her husband to let him know. By the time she pulled into the driveway, she was already bearing down a little with each contraction, desperately clenching her legs together to try to keep the head in place.

"If you can't hold off pushing entirely," the guide continues, "try to meet your body halfway. Give little, short pushes while you keep breathing, to try to make it easier to keep the head in. Beyond a certain point, though, it's not really possible to keep the head in through just willpower alone; it's very easy to go just a little too far, and then a lot too far."

Dave came out to meet Sarah's car in the driveway. She had opened the car door, with one leg planted on the ground, when she doubled over with the force of another contraction. With her legs momentarily spread, Sarah was helpless against her body's urges, and started to bear down full-force.

"SHIT-" she cried out "-PUSHING. HELP-" Frozen in place from fear and the force of her own efforts, Sarah felt the head start to surge outwards, her thin panties and work pants wholly inadequate to stop the head on their own. She was alone and pushing out of control for a single, terrifying moment, feeling the head start to spread her wider and wider, totally unable to hold back as she felt her opening start to sting from the stretch.

"FUCK-NNNNG-" She pushed again, and felt the head stretch her more. It burned, GOD it burned, and she couldn't stop and it burned so much and she was pushing and she couldn't stop and she was PUSHING again-

"Shit, baby, I'm here," Dave said, "how can I-"

"Hold it- FUCK- HOLD IT HOLD THE HEAD PLEASE-AAAAAH"

Dave put his hand on the crowning head, and felt it press firmly against him. Sarah was really bearing down; he kept his hand in place until her push had spent itself uselessly and he felt her sag against him in relief. When she caught a breath or two before pushing again, he took the opportunity to slide the head back inside little bit before she pressed it against his hand again. "Good, good, just like that. Let it out. I've got you, just let it out." she would push, and he would keep the head in place, and she would rest, and he would press it a little farther back inside of her.

Soon, Sarah's panties were flat against her crotch, the head peeking out by just a hair. Dave took his hand away and helped her stand on shaky legs. "Come on, let's get you inside."

The Guide continues: "If you're not able to hold back from pushing on your own, you need to find some help; just holding the head in with your hands or keeping your legs together won't cut it anymore. It doesn't matter so much what help you have. It can be some tight, sturdy clothes, a trusted birth partner, or anything so long as you know it won't give out on you if you start pushing full-force."

Sarah did her best to breathe through her contractions and walk with her legs pressed together as Dave helped her to their bedroom. He grabbed the bottle of her pills as he passed, and she took two as soon as she could. Her clothes were soaked in sweat from her earlier ordeal, and she nearly ripped them off in her eagerness to be naked.

She laid down on the bed and instinctively spread her legs open; even without a contraction she could feel how full she was between her hips, how much her body ached for her to bear down and get her baby out. Sarah didn't give in, breathing deeply as she waited for the next contraction and sliding a pillow underneath her hips to help the head stay in a little better.

"Are you doing okay now?" Dave asked.

"Yeah. I was kind of panicked earlier, but it's not so bad now."

"Good. How are you feeling?"

"Like I have to push," Sarah answered, half-jokingly. "Actually, can you-"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Dave moved between her legs to press his hand against the bulging head.

"Nn- Thanks- NNg-" Sarah grunted as she bore down.

"Not 'Too Much' though?"

"No- NNn- not yet at least." Sarah kept pushing against Dave's hand.

"Good. Just let me know if you start to get there."

"Too Much" was something the Guide described. "It's possible," it reads, "to get into real trouble here. With long-enough labor attacks, what some women have reported is a building feeling of desperation. Their body's need to push starts to overwhelm them, and they can lose control of themselves, trying to take off clothing that's holding their baby in or fight against their birth partners. While this is rare, if it happens to you, you could give birth prematurely or injure yourself, your partner, or your baby. It's essential to have a plan in case this happens, a way to keep the head inside you even if you're fighting against it."

Sarah labored on the bed for a little while longer, but soon started to feel restless. Dave drew her a bath, getting up to check the water temperature between her contractions, and the warm water did help her relax at first, but soon it wasn't enough. When she started to actively squirm away from his hand on the head, they both knew it was time.

The Guide recommended they make a plan for the worst-case scenario, and they did. The first part of the plan was a pair of two-sizes-too-small jean shorts; the tight fit and unforgiving fabric would keep the head in no matter how much she pushed. They came with a belt, which could be cinched tight around her hips to help keep them on even if she lost control.

Sarah did her best to hold it together while drying off and getting the shorts on, but it was clear to both of them that this was a losing battle; it took a few tries for Sarah to get her legs close enough together to get them past her knees and she could barely hold it together as Dave helped her with the various fasteners.

"Aaaaaah! Oh my god! I have to push!" Sarah did her best to hold back.

"Almost- Nearly- Okay, there we go," Dave closed the buckle on the belt.

"OH- FU-" Desperate for relief, Sarah immediately dropped into a deep, wide squat. "HHHHn-" Sarah pushed, furiously and silently. Her body had been begging her to give birth for far too long; now that she was finally listening, she had no breath to waste on screaming or yelling. Any sound, motion, or thought that wasn't related to bearing down even harder was halted as Sarah gave everything she had to that instinctual demand to get her baby out.

Sarah pushed again, briefly gasping for air before again giving in to the desperate urges overwhelming her brain. Dave kneeled down in front of her, getting the perfect view of Sarah's denim-clad crotch as the head bulged as much as the fabric would allow. He watched the head press outward the little bit it could when she pushed, and he watched it retreat back inside when she rested.

Sarah's pushes were beautifully useless right now; for all that she was clearly giving every bit of effort she had, it was having exactly no impact. She could push all day just like that and, at the end of it, the head would still be exactly where it is now. Her body, however, was starting to work this out too.

Sarah spread her feet wide and sank down as low as she could get, desperate to open her pelvis every bit she could. She screamed as she bore down, red-faced and frantic. "NN-FUCK- OUT! OUT! INEEDITOUTOHGODAAAAA-" Her scream was cut off as she stood up suddenly, pulling desperately at the waistband of her shorts. "I-NNh-I need-"

Dave caught her hands before she could get any farther. "Shhh, honey, I've got you." He kept her hands together as he led her over to the bed.

"Please. Please." She begged. "Please take them off, I can't-"

"Hey. It's okay." He laid her back down, lifting her hands toward the headboard. "We'll do that real soon, okay?"

The second part of their worst-case scenario plan was a pair of handcuffs. Designed originally for BDSM play, they were padded around the wrists and sturdy enough to stand up to the job at hand.

"Can you lift your hands for me?"

"Mm-hm"

Dave fixed the handcuffs around her wrists, looped through the headboard to keep her hands away from the only thing holding her child inside her. Sarah resisted weakly, but between the cuffs on her wrists and her overactive belly pinning her to the bed there wasn't much she could do.

"Oh god, I really need to push now."

"Then go ahead and push, honey."

"NNn- No, I mean- H-HAAAA-" Sarah's protests were silenced as her body took over, desperately straining but getting nowhere. Her whole body wanted to tense up, to shove downwards at the bowling ball lodged inside of her, and Sarah did her best to give it everything it asked for. She tried again once she regained at least a measure of control.

"AAAAH- No, I mean I need to push it ouuuuut-"

"Push then. Go on."

Before she could even fully process the words, Sarah was bearing down again. Long and intense, each push left her without words, without breath, without any thoughts at all beyond the utterly overwhelming need to get her baby out of her. She flung her legs open as she bore down. Her pelvis ached for every bit of room she could make, but no matter how how far she spread her legs it wasn't enough.

"NNg- GET. OUT. GET. OUT. G-HAAAAH-"

Sarah lifted her hips off the bed, pointing the bulging head nearly straight up in the air. The tendons in her legs already complained, but she ignored the pain, trying to make as much room as possible between her legs to satisfy her animal desire for more room any way she could try to get it.

This, of course, did nothing. Actually, it did less than nothing. The movement of Sarah spreading her legs so wide pulled the shorts tighter against her crotch, pressing the head back inside her even as she pushed. Her body did NOT like that - she practically writhed with how wrong it felt to have the baby move back in when every part of her just wanted it out. She could feel that if she could just close her legs a little, her baby would have that much more room to come out, but, despite all her efforts, it felt as if some invisible force was holding her legs as wide apart as they could go.

Sarah felt reduced to a grunting animal, grunting and moaning as she bore down over and over again, shoving the head against the unyielding barrier over her crotch. Her belly would clamp down almost angrily on the child within, and she would have no choice but to push along with it, straining her utmost to try, somehow, to get the head out of her. No matter how long or how hard she pushed, though, no matter how much she bore down with utter, pathetic desperation, no matter how many times she gave into the overwhelming pressure and screamed and pushed with everything she had, the baby stayed inside her.

Eventually, between growing exhaustion and the effects of her medication, the frantic, desperate energy of Sarah's earlier efforts began to subside, and things started to settle into a routine. She kept pushing whenever she had a contraction - it was still too much to try to hold back - but in between, she could breathe and think and even move around a little.

"How are you feeling now?" Dave asked.

"Fuck, I'm tired. It's not as bad as before but -Nnn- I think I'll be -Hnn- pushing for a while."

"Do you want me to 'help you out?'"

"God, yes. Please."

Dave slid his hand underneath the waistband of Sarah's shorts. He could feel how wet she was - for all that this had been terrifying and uncomfortable, it was clearly not a purely negative experience. It didn't take long at all for her to cum, pent-up from her efforts earlier and desperate for relief.

Sarah came twice more before either of them felt comfortable enough to take off her restraints. When they finally did so, once her contractions had subsided almost completely, Sarah didn't have the energy to do much more than lay there, utterly spent. With a great deal of effort, Dave managed to convince her to get up to take a shower and let him change the sweat-soaked sheets, after which she collapsed into bed without a word.

Tomorrow was, thankfully, a weekend. Aside from how sore she felt, Sarah could hardly tell she had very nearly given birth yesterday. She briefly visited doctor Kellner, just to make sure everything was still okay, which it was, and to see if her medication needed to be adjusted, which it did. Sarah was on her way out the door again, adjusted prescription in hand, when she stopped in her tracks.

"Oh my god!" Sarah exclaimed. "You didn't- that's not-"

"Yeah, this is number three," Kellner confirmed, indicating her slight but noticeable baby bump, "same as the first two."

"I can't believe you. No, really I can't. You got your two, and now you're going back for a third!?"

Kellner laughed a little at that. "I guess I just couldn't stay away."

Sarah shook her head at the madwoman in the doctor's coat and left.

Any constructive comments would be greatly appreciated. What did you like best? What didn't you like (and how could I improve)? By all means, let me know. Part 3 will come soon, covering the eventual birth of Sarah's long-overdue, oversized child.

[sssammich]

💖

i’m starting with one even though frankly i want to send you all of them

i'll send you a document with a response to all of them how's that

💖: What is your biggest unpopular opinion about the series?

god where would i even start

well i guess i'll pick one

personally, as in my personal opinion, i just don't believe in kara coming out as somehow the next best step for her. this matter of being your 'full self' just screams 'nobody knows what work/life balance is' lmao. this is what we call 'vocational awe' in libraries LMAO i get what it's trying to do in that this has been the series-long crusade for kara. who is she? kara danvers? or supergirl? and i have posited elsewhere that kara danvers is her default setting, not supergirl. so supergirl's role in kara's entire life is a cape/persona she dons...and then takes off. so i think the bigger identity reconciliation should be between kara danvers and kara zorel, not the hero but the alien. she's superpowered because she's alien first, etc etc. but idk how to explain that without writing an essay right now so i will withhold.

the point is i just didn't think it was a satisfying end for her to come out as supergirl to the world to satisfy the juggling of her two identities. i think she should have just done a better job juggling them LOL like i think it's important to determine how to be your most authentic self but i don't know if it needed to be done at the face of revealing your alien identity. because i still think that the target on her back just gets infinitely larger??? what's the point of keeping 4 years of secrets to lena at that point? couldn't she have reached that conclusion sooner if that was the case? i think she could have expressed her authentic self by marie kondoing what's the most important parts of her life and how to let the *right* people in, not *every single person* in. also like idk from a logistics standpoint, kara should have just hired a fucking assistant for herself to keep things organized. the issue here is that she keeps working 40 hour work weeks for both jobs. and also to accept editor in chief? like those people leave work early. the solution was for kara to have hired an assistant, maybe 2. like the reason why she's conflicted is that she's working 2 jobs? she doesn't need to combine those 2 jobs and announce to the world that she's doing them as 1 big job. ETHICALLY she was citing herself???? god the integrity of everything should be put to question lmao

what would have been more compelling to me myself and i is if she really took a look at her time as supergirl and wondered if she should maintain the cape or not. like did she do as much good as she hoped? what about the people who had died or who had gotten hurt or whose lives and situations were otherwise sacrificed on her behalf? is this the life for her? is this something she wants to keep doing because she wants to or because she feels she has to? she feels a responsibility and i think that's fascinating for a character, and she thinks that there's a duty to uphold to the humans of national city because she has these gifts. but i think the ending should have been kara determining the future of supergirl, the superhero, and not how to mix the two and count that as authenticity.

tangentially, it is oh so interesting to me that this authentic speeches comes from cat and lena to be the ones to convince her to stop hiding herself? two people who are notoriously private people???? who are essentially living private and public lives??????? funny how that goes i guess

anyway it's fine obviously and if you liked it then that's also great and it's an intentional high note feel good ending yes yes good great. i am not trying to yuck your yum at all, but based on how i have since engaged with the show, it's pretty clear the writers and i simply did not share a vision lmao

ask game

[fickes]

hiiiiii

as a pre top surgery transmasc i adore your art so much. it makes me so happy and gives me hope that someday i too will be able to get top surgery!

okay so i like asking peoples personal experiences, so what were the most interesting things about getting ready for top surgery, the surgery itself or the recovery process in your eyes?

also how long did it take to get off of the binder after the surgery? thats the part i worry about the most bc i cant wear a binder bc my lungs are inept (affectionate) so i worry how thatll go but i mean itll be worth it obviously.

anyway whatever you are comfortable sharing about the surgery process, id love to hear it!!! have a great rest of your day

Thanks so much :) I'm answering this publicly in case other people find this information useful, but let me know if it's a problem and I'll take it down right away. Also feel free to message me with any follow-up questions.

I should let you know a lot of my comics are a bit dramatized for comedic purposes. I don't lie at all but sometimes I phrase things to be funny, not accurate ;)

Let's get into it - first of all, speaking as someone who needed top surgery but felt it was a pipe dream for soso long, I'll say a) it was well worth the wait and b) it wasn't nearly as hard as I expected it to be, both logistically and physically. I had the advantage that I live in a pretty liberal state in transgender law and financial aid, but the disadvantage of having a few medical conditions that I expected to make the surgery pretty hard on me (and that blocked me a little in terms of getting medical permission). If you live in the USA, I may have more specific legal guidelines for you if you want it.

In terms of the binder! I actually have a chest deformity that made wearing a binder extremely painful and probably damaging. I usually had to opt for sports bras etc., and this was a big concern for me, too, in terms of the binder that you have to wear after surgery. The vest the hospital gave me was problematic because it didn't fit me right and was causing a lot of pain. I'm not sure if my deformity had to do with it or not. But the point is: I told them the problem, and they gave me the option of just going out and buying Under Armour compression sportswear. This SAVED me, and it was FAR less painful than any binder or binder substitute I've ever worn. I could wear it 24/7 and barely even notice the pain, and it was only about $20 online. This is definitely worth asking about ahead of time to any potential surgeon. Even if this particular solution doesn't work for your case, they probably have others. There are a lot of us with bad lungs/ribs!

I was required to wear the compression shirt for 6 weeks. After that, I've chosen to continue wearing it on and off because I still have a little swelling. They expect that to be done by 6 months.

The worst parts were the vest (before I replaced it with the sportswear) and the drains. The worst part about the drains is they do hurt, and if the tubes shift at all you can feel it inside your body (BAD feeling). Unlike everything else, they were gradually hurting more the longer I had them. I got them out after a week, and after that recovery was no problemo at all. The drains are the hard part - I think most people agree with me on this one. Some people experience pain getting them removed, too, but for me it just felt a little weird.

The most interesting thing to me was the result itself. The wound, the bruising, the stitches, the glue, and the scars. Watching my own skin heal itself into a new shape was fascinating! I was allowed to change the dressing on day 2 and it was a pretty gruesome sight, but it also felt RIGHT. I was expecting a difficult adjustment. Even with the gender euphoria, a lot of trans people say they felt woozy or strange when they first saw the results. It can take a long time for your brain to adjust to your new shape. But for some reason, for me, it just immediately felt right. It's already hard to imagine my chest having ever been different.