#currently working on an out of the box idea but i keep getting distracted trying to find an outfit for nicky on pinterest

[thecollectionsof]

D, N, and W!!! <3

hello beloved favorite niche internet microcelebrity (did i forget any words? beloved? no wait i got that fuck. lovely <3)

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t. i’m so sorry but it’s the s15 ships :( it feels like sacrilege and i tried so hard to get into them but i just can’t !!!! i dabble into really interesting fic concepts but as much as i try i mainly stick around s12-s14 ships :(

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice). i’d love to see more long fics, completely out of the box and/or “weird” ideas (like if you’ve ever thought an idea was too weird and nobody would like it?? how do you know unless you just. do it), and collaboration. i love seeing people brainstorming together and when people are going back and forth in asks and playing with ideas together, i wish that was not only more common but also that more people got involved too!! if someone took an idea and played off of it i’d love them forever how fun is that??

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom. omegaverse </3 not my thing not my thing i’m sorry to anyone who likes it but i just cannot do it

[pvrkacciosan]

The Elevator

Synopsis: A Member of the Ferrari hospitality team gets stuck in the lift with the drivers who gave us the amazing moment of being stuck there, But shes not alone.

Pairing: Grid X Staff!reader

Warning; Panic attack, Single mother, claustrophobic,

Word Count: 2.3K

Your day had already been as hectic as it could get,

First the sitter for your daughter, Lexi; called in sick, leaving you with no alternative, and taking your daughter to work on a race week was never a good idea. Her high energy and hyper personality were great, but not when it was busy and you had limited ways to keep an eye on her.

Her father had left when he found out about you being pregnant, but being the person you were, you refused to give up on your daughter. Which had been the best decision you had ever made in your life, despite your current predicament.

Big crowd.

High stress.

A Toddler. What could possible go wrong?

Lexi held tightly to your hand as you walked around, your other arm aching from the cases of water bottles you carried. You worked for the Ferrari Hospitality team, so basically spend most of your day running around to make sure people had access to food and water,

You were proud to work for them, and besides. Lexi's favourite color was red, and when asked she got rater upset when you suggesting moving to another team.

"Mummy, we go track now?"

"No baby, I need to work right now, but you can get my phone to watch later okay"

She loved to watch the races, which she usually did with the sitter, you had only about ten minute to get back down to the hospitality, which with a five year old and a hefty packet of wate bottles, would be a tight window.

Her tiny feet pattered against the floor as you turned down the hallway to the stairs, you halted, there was at least a couple flights of them and when you arm began to shake under the weight of the water you knew you were never going to get down them intime.

Gritting your teeth you turned in the other direction, towards the elevator. You had never really liked them, the tight fit of being inside one made you nervous.

But it was only going to be for a few minutes, and Lexi would probably distract you, you would be alright.

Trying your hardest to drag your daughter towards the lift, when you could see it fast approaching in the numbers above the door, you managed to press the button as it slowed to the floor you were currently on.

You quickly readjusted the packet in your arm, as Lexi began to sing lightly to a cartoon song, which you couldn't quite pick the name of.

The door slide open slightly and you can already feel the shake in your hands, making it more difficult for you to keep grip of the bottles.

When the doors open however, you were equally as shocked to spot what could have been half the starting grid inside the small vertically moving box.

Lexi went to skip inside, completely unfazed by the group of adult men all who craned their heads down to watch the singing girl,

You were quick to readjust the water once more, reaching for your daughter you almost dropped it,

"No lex, Let them go first we'll catch it next time"

There was a slight shuffle amongst the group as the driver in red spun to try and look at you over the shoulders of the others, probably recognising your voice,

Lexi wandered back to you as an accented voice spoke from the group, and several hands extended out to stop the door from shutting on your daughter.

"Please. We can move over, there's space" Carlos spoke quickly, you had met a couple of them before when handing bottles around the paddock on extremely hot days, and watching them on race replays with Lexi, you could easily recognise those with thicker accent.

You didn't know what made you think that getting into an already crowded elevator, after hating the boxes in the first place.

You took Lexi's hand and shuffled into the space the drivers made for you and your daughter. The water made it equally as awkward as you tried not to bump into any of them,

The silence that lapped over the elevator, allowed you to try and settle your thoughts, until the silence was interrupted by a soft voice, as she began singing once more, you were not the only one to cast you gaze down to Lexi as she stared at her own feet, head bopping away to the tune she mumbled, not really knowing the words.

There was a couple of giggles shared amongst the drivers, you felt your cheeks bloom in heat as Daniel caught your eyes as you awkwardly looked around for something to look at that wasn't one of the drivers,

"She adorable" he gestured to Lexi, who continued to sing along, her little hand now patting your thigh in an offbeat rhythm to her singing.

"Yeah she i—" your word got cut abruptly short as the elevator jerked to a sudden stop.

There was a moment where everyone inside took a second to realise what had just happened, and it was apparent, that yes. The elevator had in-fact. Stopped.

Not even a second passed before you could already feel the rising panic creep up your spine. Lexi finally took a second to look around, little eyes wide as she stared at the man beside her, Charles waved at your daughter, Lando follow his lead when Lexi began giggling.

But you couldn't focus on your daughter, you tried, but the air began to constrict in your chest.

You could briefly hear the noise of a recording button being pressed and the noise of the drivers muttering amongst themselves.

The camera was switched off and the men around you shuffled to get comfortable as they settled into waiting, one of them already had pressed the emergency help button by the door.

The walls felt like the were getting closer to you, and your grip on the bottle became slick, until you were fumbling to keep them against you. At last they slipped out and thumped against the floor of the elevator,

The metal box shook slightly and when the drivers on either side of you, reached down to help you pick them up, the boxed moved once more, the room around you shook, which only seemed to make the walls close in faster,

You couldn't help it anymore, emitting a small whimper, as tears began to streak down your cheeks.

The elevator fell silent as all the drivers took in the sounds as you began crying,

"She cries" Lexi said simply, as though it wasn't obvious to the men that you were doing so,

As your knee began to shake slightly when more panic sets in, You stumble but don fall as you feel a couple sets of hands grab your body, holding you up. There was not enough space to sit yourself down, which only made your breathing turn more ragged.

"Whats wrong?" George whispered from behind her, he sounded close enough to be one of the drivers currently holding her up, but with this metal tin can, they were all too close and that was the problem.

"She custrabobic" Lexi said, patting Pierre on the leg lightly,

The french driver pulled a face, and looked to the English speaking drivers for aid, not entirely understanding what exactly the small girl was attempting to tell him,

Lando cast a quick look at you, being closer to Lexi then George and Danny he leaned down slightly she peered up at him,

"What is she?" he asked trying to get the little girl to repeat herself,

"Custrabobic" Lexi spoke, happy with herself she smiled at Lando, her smile beaming as she looked around the elevator.

You rasped slightly, squeezing your eyes shut tighter, leaning into the closest body to your own, which ever driver it was wrapped his arms further around you, seeming to take the majority of your weight.

Lando nodded at your daughter before shooting a pleading look to George, who looked in thought over the toddlers words, as he watched you.

Lando moved aside as Romain squeezed past him, leaning down to grab one of the bottles you had previously been holding, twisting the cap open he passed to Valtteri who brought it in front of you.

You tried to reach for it, but as your hands shook, you let a frustrated sigh leave you, Lexi had somehow gotten to the other side of the elevator and in her haste to get back to her mum she crawled along the floor, Romain and Charles had to widen their stance as the little girl crawled under them giggle as she got closer to you.

She was too young to understand that you weren't exactly in the right state to answer her as she began to ask about the track once more.

"Claustrophobic!" Carlos yelled suddenly, hand raising in happiness as he somehow managed to puzzle out your daughters words, Lexi turned to the man now. She jumped in excitement, nodding wildly at him,

"Yea , yeh!" She flailed her little arms around, and when you whimpered softly at the movement, Carlos was quick to settle your child, distracting her with something on his phone.

The air was no longer getting into your lungs any more, despite the rattling of people outside the door, working to pry the elevator doors open.

With your eyes widening in panic you fumbled to grab the hand of the driver which still had you hugged into his chest, when the men shuffled around to let Charles past them, he knelt slightly at your front,

"You're Y/n, Right?", eyes scanning the familiar red crew uniform you wore.

He gently took the bottle from your grasp, looking back at George who held you in place against him.

The surroundings of your vison began to grow fuzzy and dark, blinking rapidly to try and clear it away, you could just see Charles as he realised just how unsettled the crowding had made you,

Unsure whether to touch you or not, he awkwardly held his hands around you, looking to the other drivers who all looked equally at a loss on what to do,

With your mind in a flurry, you couln't really pay much mind to what was going on around you, as the room spun, you squeezed both eyes shut tightly, despretly hoping to block out the feeling of a bubble around your body. Wrapping you up and squeezing the air from you.

Weakly you could feel the hands tighten on your body, holding you up, until you were passed into the hands of another, and finally sat onto the ground.

The ground was cooler beneath your palm when you placed them flat onto the surface,

"Y/n?"

The voice sounded like a speaker underwater, the words lost on you,

"Y/n?"

When the corners of your sight began to come back into focus, you could just see two bodies in front of you, One extended a bottle to you,

You took it gratefully, trying to still the shake that gripped you,

The two drivers, Charles and Pierre sat with you as they patiently waited for you to come back to reality. You watched on as a couple of the other drivers continued to watch your daughter,

She had been picked up by Daniel who bounced her on his hip, while Lando hid behind the Australian's shoulder, before 'jumping' out from behind him to scare Lexi.

Her giggle filled the air, people were milling about working to close of the elevator.

"Mummy" She squealed out loudly, as Daniel placed her back on the ground, she took off in your direction at a run, stumbling a little over her shoes, which fashioned Lightening McQueen on the side, with red flashing lights on their base.

She stopped to observe the drivers that still sat with you, taking in their faces now they were her head height,

"You drive big red" her happiness was palpable as she pointed to Charles's red shirt, her small hand pressing against the rearing horse at his chest.

"Why, Yes." he smiled lightly at her, chuckling softly,

It was then that you finally checked the time on your watch, you were at least five minutes late, pushing up off the ground quickly you reached for what bottles had been recollected,

"Hold on-"

"Wait a minute"

There was a couple more voices of protest from the drivers as you rose up, ignoring their stares you began to balance the bottles back in your arms,

"Lex, come on" You said quickly to your daughter,

"We go track now?"

"No baby, we can watch them later, say bye now"

Your daughter, whose bottom lip was now jutted out slightly turned to wave to the drivers, She got closer to your side, placing her little hand in yours,

There was a shuffle behind you as Charles quickly got up,

"We could watch her" he offered, You turned to meet his stare, "Take her down into the paddock, Let you make sure your okay, and I will bring her back around to the hospitality after."

Without even looking at Lexi, you could already feel her excited vibrating off her in waves. Charles wasn't the only one that looked on in hope,

You were still feeling a light fuzz in your head, and with how hot it was, perhaps having someone to watch your daughter for a while wasn't such a bad idea.

"We promise to return her in one piece" Daniel smiled softly at you, despite the amusement in his tone, perhaps in an attempt to persuade you.

Lexi tugged at your hand, you looked down, she was twirling and tapping her feet lightly, causing them to light up.

"Alright ..."

Lexi has already taken off before you could finish talking. Pierre, swiftly took off his hat and plopped it onto your daughter's head. The two of them speaking in whispered voices.

You turn your stare to Charles. " Please if anything happens come find me"

He nodded quickly before turning to take Lexi's hand.

Even as they walked away you could hear the excited giggles from the grown men as your daughter told them all she knew about formula 1 and how one day she was going to be just like them.

You didn't doubt it, and as you turn to move across towards the Ferrari Hospitality, now two hands clutching the bottles, you couldn't help but be thankful for the time free to settle your nerves.

Even if your daughter's babysitter was a bunch of men who enjoyed driving really fast.

[kortsitron]

Little distractions

Pairing: Niran Pruksamanee/Lifeweaver × Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, fluff

Summary: Niran is aware that you have hard time distraction yourself from depressive thoughts, luckily he knows a way to keep you distracted (and entertained)

Author’s Note: I know this may not be an actual way to deal with unpleasant feelings, yet I thought the idea was pretty cute. If you’re struggling with depression or any other mental illness, please seek professional help. I believe that everything is going to be alright and I wish you the best <3 Also enjoy this one shot! ♥️

Niran knew how much you struggled. He held you as you cried your eyes out, he was going to the doctors with you when you asked him to, he was doing his best to help you. And yet, after all day of smiles and fun, he knew that at the end of the day, you would either overwork yourself to try to distract yourself or you would get back to being numb. But he wasn’t even near giving up.

Maybe it was his positive attitude, which made him earn the nickname “Sunshine” from you, or just how much he was in love with you.

You were laying on the couch, working on your laptop in the living room when you noticed Niran getting ready. You raised an eyebrow, wondering where he was going. “Where are you going, Sunshine?” You made eye contact with him. You saw the way he finished tying his shoes and the way his face from focused, turned into a soft smile as he stood up and approached you. “You dirty the floor, Niran.” You signed as you leaned your head against the arm of the coach to get a better look at your boyfriend.

“Apologies.” He awkwardly looked at the floor and back at you. “I’ll be meeting Baptiste, we have some stuff to do. Not sure when I’ll be back, but if something bad happens, call me or Satya, okay?” You nodded. He kissed your forehead before heading to the door. “I should be back in around two hours. Love you, don’t overwork yourself, bye!” He waved at you before leaving, watching as a smile creeped on your face and a light blush appeared on your cheeks.

You laid in your bed as tears were streaming down your cheeks. Your mind was too loud for you to think properly and you were waiting for Niran to get back. You started to wonder if you should call him, but you didn't want to bother him. 

“Is that everything?” You heard a masculine voice with a Haitian accent.

“I think so, thanks for the help.” Niran answered the voice. You wiped tears from your face before you adjusted your clothes and went to the living room to see what was going on. Niran smiled at you as you entered the room. Niran frowned his eyebrows as soon as he noticed your red face and slightly puffy eyes. “Hello, dear. Are you okay?” There was a worry in his tone. He approached you, rubbing your arms up and down to hopefully bring you comfort.

“Yeah um… What’s all this stuff?” You asked, pointing to the objects your boyfriend brought home. Cat tree, a bed, a bunch of colorful bowls, a litter box and a box from which came high sounds. Niran saw the way you pouted, clearly not happy with his purchase. “Care to explain, Bua?” The tone of your voice showing him how displeased you were.

Niran was caught off guard by the nickname. It was the moment he realized that you were actually unsatisfied. “Well…” He looked over at his friend. “Baptiste, care for help?”

“It was your idea, I only helped you with bringing the things here.” The man just shook his head, chuckling quietly at the whole situation. “I’ll be heading back home, tell me later how it all went.” Baptiste informed as he left, hoping to not get invested more in the current situation.

Your eyes went from the door, to your boyfriend. “So?” You continued, watching how Niran’s cheeks suddenly turned pink.

“We don’t you see for yourself?” He took your hand in his, taking you to the middle of the living room. “Sit down please.” Without much thinking, you did, but your eyes never left him. You watched as he brought the box in front of you and sat on the floor himself. 

You heard the noises better. It was meowing. “You brought a kitten here?! Niran we-” You paused in the middle of the sentence. Listening intently to the sounds. It wasn’t just one kitten. You glanced at the said box, then back at Niran. Grin on his face as he watched you realize. “How many are there?”

“A bunch.” He shrugged, said grin not leaving face. “Why don’t you open up and see for yourself?”

You hesitated for a second, hands shook lightly before landing on the box and opening it up. Now meowing was resonating in the whole living room. You watched as six kittens were leaving the box, meowing and stomping their little paws on the floor. You heard a chuckle coming from Niran, as he watched your reaction. He noticed that you were processing what was happening before you. 

You finally woke up from the trance, which seemed like hours. “Niran we need to get them back where they came from. I don’t think we can… We can…” You paused as you felt one of the kittens getting on your lap, meowing at you and rubbing itself against you.

“Don’t you think it would be a little rude if we brought them back?” Niran commented calmly, petting the nearest kitten. “Besides, I brought them here to help you.”

“Help me? What do you mean?” Confusion painted itself on your face, as you waited for the answer.

“I know you have a problem with distracting yourself when you start feeling bad, so I thought that you could use these little distractions. I’m sure they’ll keep you busy.”

“But six?”

“I planned on getting two or three at first, but I saw that little group and couldn’t help myself.” You heard the excitement in his voice as he explained. You couldn’t help, but smile softly at him, feeling a warmth in your heart.

You signed. “I guess we can keep them. But only because you will be whining endlessly if we bring them back.”

Niran gasped dramatically. “No, you fell for them as well and you just don't want to admit it!” You chuckled, shaking your head. “You know I’m right!” He pointed at you, smiling from ear to ear.

“Okay, okay. You got me there.” You put your hands up, showing how defeated you were.

“That’s what I thought.” He smirked at you, clearly satisfied. He looked around, watching the kittens walk around. “I think we should give them some food.” He commented, with a bit more serious tone than before. He stood up, holding his hand out to help you with standing out. You gladly accepted it as soon as you took the kitten off your lap.

“You sure we have enough money to keep them? Perhaps you should work on some form of light that’s edible.” Niran laughed at your suggestion.

“Perhaps I should. And you should give them names. They’re ours now.”

“We should give them names.”

[echoedcrosshairs]

Foxglove ~ Commander Fox x F reader

According the language of flowers Foxglove symbolizes riddles, conundrums and secrets along with ambition and creativity.

Summary: A small fancy caff shops pops up in the senate building. Commander Fox is not amused.

Slow burn, enemies? to lovers, Commander Fox x reader, Commander Thorn x reader (platonic)

Warnings: Angst, Smut, implied smut, cannon violence and talks of cannon related violence.

Part two

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9k

You fell had fallen asleep at your desk stretching out the design for the caff shop until one of the senators poked you back into consciousness. Embarrassing a paper clung to your face as you sat up, however the peeling sound was extremely satisfying.

"Thank you, Senator Chuchi," you said laying the paper back down on your desk. You noticed her observing eyes looking at the papers and partial recipes, "I was thinking to see about opening a Coffee shop a few level down so the troopers could get some," you admitted anxiously trying to tuck the papers away.

"I think it is brilliant, do you mind?" she asked pointing on the proposal paper.

You blinked stunned, "Be my guest," you said handing it to her, "I think it would benefit everyone's late nights."

"Give me a couple days, I'll see what I can do," she smiled taking the paper reading over it as she walked off.

It didn't take long for an answer. After work you had started cleaning up your desk for the next rotation when you noticed the red shock trooper approaching with a rather large looking envelope. He handed it to you and waited for the response. Your fingers ripped the seam of it open, the senate had thought it was a very good investment. You screamed giddily and through your arms around the trooper hearing a disgruntled groan come from him before coughing and stepping back, "My apologies, the senate building is getting a coffee shop on the lower levels for the troops and senators."

"Good evening, Ma'am. I will let Senator Chuchi know the delivery was successful."

The moment the trooper was out of sight you did a little happy dance. You turned your attention back to the small packet and reread it, excited that you could begin work immediately. You practically danced your way down to the designated level and room, fiddling with the controls you finally got the door to open to the near empty expanse except for a few stray box's.

"The senate building is closed to the public, I must ask you to leave," a voice called behind you.

You turned finding him waiting a kama and a visored helmet, "Commander! I work upstairs in filing, I am currently inspecting this location for a new shop."

"You must be mistaken with this is the Commander offices." You handed the commander the filing paperwork, "Great just wanted I needed distractions," he mumbled handing you the paper back.

"Given this is mostly for the stationed troopers, I thought it would be nice," you said curtly.

"Last thing I need is baby sitting duty to keep my brothers in line," he grumbled, "Good evening," Fox said turning in his heel heading back towards him office grumbling to himself about professional courtesy.

How rude? You did your best to shrug off the comment but it kept eating at you. I'll just start ordering supplies after a full nights rest. You walked past the offices noticing the Commander from earlier but another lounging in his office who gave you a small wave. At least some of the soldiers will appreciate it. You got onto the bus to head home finding the trooper who waved was standing there, he flagged you over. Keeping your hand on the rails you made your way finding the section marked 'clones' your stomach fell to the floor, the discrimination of the clones was a touchy subject but one that made you want to kick and scream.

"I just wanted to say thank you for the opening the Caf shop, no idea how you pulled it off but the boys are excited."

"The other commander seemed less then thrilled," you tried to hide the scowl on your face.

"Fox? He's rougher than durasteel around the edges. Name's Thorn by the way."

You awkwardly stuck out your free hand and said your name, "Nice to meet you," he took your arm and shook it back. His hesitation to you suggested he wasn't use to people to greeting him back, "So why are you on this bus? Don't you guys have personal speeders?" you asked noticing the lack of other shock trooper colors.

"I'm going to 79's, remember citizen don't drink and fly," he chuckled at his own joke.

"79's... Oh the clone bar?" You had never been there but overheard several troopers talking about fun nights out.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Are non clones allowed it?" You asked arching an eyebrow.

"Nat borns? Also yes, never been?"

"No, might check it out. Might give me ideas."

"You should if you're free sometimes."

"I'll go home and change, sounds like fun."

"Oh, do you want an escort?"

"I'd love that," Thorn walked with you back to your small apartment waiting outside while you get changed, "You're neighbors love to stare."

"Oh yeah... their probably wondering why work followed me home, if I'm in any sort of trouble so I should be expecting a text..." your comm beeped, "Speaking of which," you laughed. You answered the messages as quickly as possible while following Thorn back onto the train.

"That's good you have friends that care about you," he offered once you were done telling anyone that your coffee shop project got approved.

"Everyone deserves a friend, got many?"

"Thousands," he chuckled, "Just warning you might want to stick close to me or my brothers are going to hit on you something fierce."

"It can't be that-"

"Yes, yes it can be. Especially if the 501st is there," he genuinely laughed, "offer still stands, also since we'll be sitting at the commander's officer, if there's a guy in grey armor that's Wolffe. He's a major flirt don't mind him."

"Thanks for the heads up."

Both of you kept up the small talk as you reach 79's. You took it the bar, semi low lit, loud music towards the dance floor, a few luxury female droids, a distinct beer smell, and tons of troopers with a handful or too 'nat borns' wandering around. For some reason the place made you grin, happy soldiers enjoying some down time from the war given a place to feel... normal and accepted. Thorn guided you to the back table furtherest away from the music, you heard the small groan when he saw both Wolffe and Fox

"The bane of my existence," Fox grumbled.

"Don't mind him, he's grumpy because I dragged him out of his office... literally," Wolffe smirked, "Take off your helmet, breath, and drink, vod."

Thorn took off his helmet first, setting it on the table in front of him. His hair was a dark shade of red but in the regular solider cut with a miniature tattoo spelling 'Hammer' across his eyebrow. He stared down Fox until he caved and took his off. You stared at him for a moment to long looking at his short shaved sides and medium top combed comb making him squint at you for a moment before flagging the service droid for drinks. Unlike his brothers Fox’s eyes were almost true to his namesake, perfect golden sunrise kissed irises with his tanned complexion making them almost seem to glow even in the faded light.

"Need a drink with how much work I won't be able to get done," he scowled.

"It's not like I had a choice on where the location would be," you countered, "Wear earplugs."

Wolffe smirked watching Fox's anger flared up, "The lady has a point."

"Yes," Fox gridded out, "You know the 'cafe' is going to cause distractions which means lack of productivity and efficiency."

"Are you really complaining over decent caf? You live on that poor excuse of black sludge excuse for coffee," Thorn nipped at him which just got an eye roll.

"Do you really not trust your men to behave professionally and be respectful and timely? Isn't the Coruscant guard suppose to be the best of the best?" you poked getting a deadpan stare from Wolffe at the audacious comment.

Fox's lip twitch into a snarl, "Bold," is all he said.

Thorn tried to keep the smile off his face by covering his mouth with his hand eyeing the droid bringing the drinks over. Between drink the two of you passed comments back and forth about decor and drink name ideas. Most of the drinks took on names of various command titles and battalion numbers to really make it clone friendly. Wolffe scowled when his came up but didn't complain that the concept of it was made expresso.

"Him!" A blue captain came walking over who had been very obviously eves dropping pointed at a blue trooper, "Never serve him coffee. Ever. Hardcase is hyper enough. Mind if I join?"

"Getting off your leash for once, vod?" Wolffe snorted scooting into the booth giving him space to sit, "Sit, Rex" he said casually so you wouldn't have to ask.

"Switch spots with me," Thorn whispered, "501st has a few flirts."

You contently stood up letting Thorn slide out so you could slide into his spot unfortunately sliding in next to Fox causing him to scoot closer to Wolffe in the middle. Rolling your eyes you grabbed your glass taking a few sips. While they all conversed about recent duties you took your time eyeing the trooper's automatically finding the flirts as one winked at you. Thorn noticed shooting him a looking smirking as he turned around, "They should leave you alone... hopefully," his tone suggested he was less than positive about the statement.

"She should get use to it," Fox said curtly.

"Just want to through her to the wolves don't you," Wolffe teased winking at him, "You really are a blurg in the mud sometimes."

"Sometimes?" You watched the brotherly banter unfold about the stick up Fox's ass about how tightly wound to he is to his work. Another round of drinks came and they shoved towards Fox telling him to enjoy himself, he drank both of them to shut his brothers up. The drinks had started loosening him up finally but there was still an air about his unwavering authority and harshness after they got a couple more drinks in him that finally started to subside too.

"What do you think so far?" Thorn whispered.

"Like this better then the regular cantina's" you admitted, "Seems more relaxed."

"Most of the time, sometimes fights break out. I don't recommend you civs get anywhere near when one happens."

"Nat Borns, Civs, any other terms I need to know?" you asked curiously.

"Not off the top of my head. Dance?" Thorn asked while the both of you watched in slow motion as the question jostled you enough for your hand to miss completely setting the drink fully down on the counter spilling it's context over Fox.

He growled, "Can't even be asked to dance without being a problem," he grabbed the napkins out of the dispenser blotting up the mess, "Can't wait until you burn yourself with just getting hit on, the amount of paperwork."

"Fox," Wolffe growled back, "Stow it."

Thorn slide out of the booth letting you climb out the flush across your face as bright as Coruscant guard red, "I'm sorry, Fox," you said looking at him.

"It's Commander Fox to you," he said climbing out heading towards the refresher.

Slowly you made your way towards the door before Thorn caught you trying to sneak away, "Dance, he's just tired." You looked between the door and him opting to dance just so he wouldn't hold leaving over your head. After fumbling stepping on Thorn's foot several times you finally got into the grove of the danced "Something on your mind?"

"Just wondering if he's right-"

"The what if's of life are keeps you from being in the present and tends to leave you with guilt."

"Thank you."

The men he tried to ward off kept staring, Thorn scowled at them before giving them a warning gesture to back off. Putting himself between you and them he finally relaxed again muttering about maybe if Fox got laid wouldn't be such an ass, you couldn't help but giggle. He apologized saying he didn't realize he had said that out loud. After a couple more dance the two of you headed back to the table, the three of them still sitting there chatting mindlessly about whatever came out of their liquid freed up mouths.

"Pretty lady at the counter checking you out Foxy," Wolffe snickered.

"I choose the company of my Vod's."

"Even I know how to relax," Rex scowled, "Don't make me call your batch mates," he jokingly threaten.

Fox grimaced looking at the woman at the counter then back at you then back at the woman, "Your sister is prettier than you."

"So are your brothers," you deadpanned slipping out of the booth and out the front door, you felt entirely humiliated. At the risk of crying you flagged down a taxi to take you home instead of wanting to wait around on the bus. Peeling off the dress and stepping into the shower the tears finally shed. The pressure of trying to get the shop up and running, that embarrassment and just wondering what you did wrong after just trying to do something nice hit you like a plummeting ship. You shut off the water just sitting there for a moment before pulling yourself up, Tomorrow is a new day... but avoiding him couldn't hurt.

Between finishing the work load of filing early you ordered everything you needed stating the room number where it needed to be delivered too. Arriving downstairs you found the door prompt open with boxes inside along with Thorn hauling the rest of the guards boxes out.

"Stupid droids delivered some of the supplies to my office, I'll bring them over after I drop these at filing."

"Thank you, Commander," you said formally turning your attention back to the boxes. You groaned at the amount of work you had to do, finding his office you found a few more stacks groaning you push some of them to the room thanking the tiles floor for cooperating. By the time Thorn had gotten back you were gleaming with sweat but managed to get all of the boxes inside.

"I said I was going to bring them over," he scolded watching you down water as if your sweat had sucked all of it out of you.

“Problem?” You heard Fox’s rough voice.

“No, Sir,” you said gulping down the rest of the water prying yourself off the heap of boxes, “Just explaining that I can move my own boxes,” you added curtly glowering at him before stalking off to organize the piles of boxes.

“Next time please let me, it isn’t a problem,” Thorn said pointedly staring at Fox.

You didn’t hear Fox leave, you turned to see his lingering presence in the door frame “Can I help you?”

“Not even open yet and causing problems,” he scoffed walking off.

You wanted to throw a box at his head, if he wasn’t the head of the guard it might have been worth it. Even Thorn cocked his head glaring at him as he walked away, “Funny cause you went home with her ‘sister’ last night.” You’re face turned bright red, you heard him apologizing for the unchaste comment before you shut the door in his face not being able to get the burning under control. He went home with her? If that isn’t a backwards compliment. That insufferable dreadful man is not going to ruin this for me.

Hearing a barely audible tap on the door you opened it apolozing to who you assumed to be Thorn about needing a moment to yourself to find Fox standing there and the rest of your words died in your mouth. He handed you a cup of Caf, as if you didn’t have a few boxes worth in one of these piles, and walked off. Was that a poor excuse for an apology? You took a sip of the caf and nearly sprayed it into the hallway. This is why I’m opening a caf shop, this is disgusting. They get disgusting beer and even worse coffee. However you forced yourself to drink it wrinkling your nose with every drink. It was dangerously caffeinated you zoomed from task to task until the coffee bar was fully set up which looked odd in such an empty room.

“See, the coffee is fine as is,” Fox chuckled walking by to peer at the progress you were making impressed with how much you accomplished.

“I see why you have no taste,” you saw his footstep flatter for a moment knowing the punch landed.

“Don’t know if I should applaud you or be afraid of you,” Thorn chuckled bringing in another huge box, “You forgot your cups, kind of hard to serve coffee without them.”

“Thank you.”

“79’s after?” he asked setting the box next to the counter.

“Because that went so well the first time,” you muttered, “Sure,” you said offering a smile.

Sure enough, Fox walked in saying he was going too. You tried to keep a straight face but the tension between the half hidden glare was enough to make Thorn squirm hauling his brother out of the room to leave you to your work.

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Chapter 6

Series Summary: There are moments in our lives that have a major impact. The interactions, the adventures, and the love, all make up who we are. But when Harry can't remember those moments with YN, they are both left wondering what that means for themselves and their relationship.

Chapter Summary: This is (again) from Harry's point of view. Harry is at a crossroads now and he knows that whatever decision he makes, someone will end up being hurt.

Thank you to @runway-to-my-aid and @behindmygreyeyes for the brainstorm sessions for this chapter!

~~~~~

Chapter Warnings: Some explicit language, ex-girlfriend, mentions of cheating, ANGST

~~~~~

It's been a week since Harry has seen YN, and while he would like to say that time is exactly what he has needed to get clarity on this entanglement of his mind, he can't. If anything, it's only made things more difficult. Besides a doctor's appointment and a midday meetup with Tabitha, he has been sitting in his childhood home and alone with the tormenting confusion he has been so desperate to resolve.

He thought the familiarity he feels with Tabitha would instantly make her the one he chooses, but the guilt he is experiencing over the situation with YN has caused him to wonder why he feels it so deeply. He knows that the memories his mind has hidden away would answer that question, but he doesn't know where to find that lock box in his brain. Hell, he doesn't even know if he has the key.

As selfish as it probably is, he can't help but pity himself for how unfair this is on him. At least YN knows how she feels. At least Tabitha knows what she wants. Everything else, the things that change everyone's lives from here on out, are all on him and he has never felt his life more turbulent than it is right now.

He can't decipher what's holding him back. Does he actually want to be with Tabitha, or is the comfort just too difficult to give up? She is sociable and determined, both good qualities that he admires. She is someone he knows, someone he can understand, someone he would be able to jump back into a relationship with. However, even though she stated she wanted what they once had, there hasn't been an extraordinary amount of effort put into rebuilding anything. She can become distant, he has experienced that before, always attributing it to her busy schedule. However, there is a little frustration in Harry, thinking that she should at least try to work this out if it's what she wants. Then again, he could simply be reading too much into all of it due to the stress he is experiencing.

On the other hand, does he want to be with YN, or is he just feeling guilty for being so hesitant with someone who has been so kind to him? It really is amazing the effort she has put into helping him with everything, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. She's been abundantly supportive. However, he wonders if it's only due to the accident and his injury. What would happen if they start over again and it isn't as good as it is being made out to be, or he can't be who she expects him to be? What if he doesn't like who she knows him to be?

He finishes his morning coffee and decides that a distraction is something he desperately needs. It's possible that it could help clear his mind, since constantly letting his thoughts and feelings run rampant, yet trying to make sense of them all, is hardly the best technique. An idea pops in his head, and it is something that he knows will, at the very least, allow his mind to temporarily focus on anything but his current turmoil.

•••

"Alright everyone, I know you're excited that Mr. Styles is here, but we are still running class as usual." Sarah states to the students. "Jeremy, come on… just sit down. Drummers keep the beat, man, be a leader."

Harry chuckles as he watches his students compose themselves and get back to their lesson. Edison Academy of Arts was at the top of Harry's list in terms of a career. He loves the structure they implement, allowing him to stay with the same students throughout most of their time at the school. This means, much to Harry's immense pleasure, that he knows the kids in his class. The missing memories are not keeping his love of music and his class from him, and considering everything else he has forgotten, the relief he feels about that fact is overwhelming.

"What've you lot been working on?"

He listens as his students perform pieces they've been practicing, and beams with pride. Finally, he feels some uncomplicated joy. Finally, there is something he does remember and knows that he still has. Finally, there's a moment in his life, since the hospital, where he feels balance and stability.

The bell rings to dismiss for lunch and Harry says goodbye to each student as they walk out. Sarah suggests they go to the teachers lounge to eat but Harry timidly asks if they can stay in the room, not wanting to ruin the peace he feels by getting overwhelmed with questions from the other teachers, as well-intended as they would be.

"So, why are you at your mom's?" Sarah asks, taking a bite into her sandwich and staring at him with an expectant expression.

"Bloody hell, y'just gonna dive right into it, hmm?"

She chuckles as she finishes the food in her mouth, wiping off her hands and staring straight into his eyes. "Well, yeah. What else would we talk about?"

"Literally anything else." He responds, sending her a glare before looking down at his own food and sighing. His moment of joy and balance is quickly dissipating. "I dunno what to say."

"Alright." She states, suddenly softening her tone and her expression. "We don't have to talk about it."

"S'just… I feel like I'm fucked either way."

"What do you mean?"

Her brows quickly furrow in confusion, and Harry's body tenses with the realization that Sarah might not know the details of the situation he is in. The situation he has put both himself and YN in. In fact, as far as he knows, none of his mutual friends with YN know what has been happening.

"Umm… shit." He runs the back of his neck, hoping that the motion will bring him some kind of comfort, or help him to disappear and avoid this conversation. "I… have been having a hard time… choosing…"

"Choosing what…?" The stern expression still plastered all over her face.

"Choosing… who I want to be with…" He admits, immediately dropping his gaze out of shame, as his chest tightens.

Sarah doesn't immediately respond, continuing to stare with the confused expression that had appeared a few moments earlier.

"Like… between YN and… who?"

Harry knows and loves Sarah, and Mitch, and trusts them with so much in his life. He has kept all of this from everyone, but Sarah is someone he does feel he can confide in about this.

"And Tabitha."

She suddenly sits up straight in her chair and presents shock throughout her features. They know him well, more than most of his friends do, but this is something that he is concerned could potentially strain the close friendship they've all had. Because, as much as he knows they love him, it has been made very clear that they love YN just as much.

"You can't be serious, Harry." She shakes her head in disbelief. "Why… why is she even an option?"

He sighs and clears his throat, wishing some sort of residual effects from the accident would cause him to pass out, or combust if possible, and take him away from this awkward conversation. But, as close as they are to YN, he feels as if she can understand his need for familiarity.

"I just know her. Y'know?" He shrugs, looking up to see her understanding, but being met with an even sterner look.

"No! I don't know!" She scolds, causing Harry's body to tense completely, and his breath to momentarily leave his lungs. He was not expecting her to be so upset. "It's stupid!"

"Ease up, Sarah. I remember being with her, and loving her. It's hard to give up the relationship I remember being in."

She scoffs, causing a slight frown to form on Harry's face. He understands her closeness to YN, but she knows Tabitha as well, and he's not asking her to choose between them.

"Okay, so what about YN? You said you're having trouble choosing… so, what about her?"

"YN is…" He pauses, really wanting to be thoughtful about his answer. Not just because he is explaining it to someone who is friends with her, but also because he wants to understand it for himself. "Comfortable… in the way that… that we were able to just hang out and it was good. We didn't, like, have to do anything fancy."

That may have been the first time Harry was able to articulate his feelings and reasoning for wanting to stick around YN.

"Yeah." Sarah responds, a subtle smirk appearing on the side of her mouth furthest from Harry. "That's YN."

"That's what I've been told." He replies, wishing that his memory wouldn't have been taken and he remembered, if only for the reason that this entire situation could be so much easier. He takes a big sigh. "Why does this have to be so difficult?"

Her demeanor quickly changes, at a pace that almost shakes Harry in his seat. She leans forward, the most unreadable expression on her face, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"I don't know, Harry. I honestly don't know what's wrong with you!"

"What the hell is that s'pose to mean?"

"I just don't understand why this is even something that's confusing to you."

"Because I only remember loving Tabitha…"

"Right. But you also broke up with her…"

"I know. Well, I don't know, but I've been told." He sighs and spins one of the rings on his finger. Everyone remembers this, everyone remembers the hurt and heartbreak he supposedly went through with Tabitha. Everyone except him. "But it's what I know, or remember. I wish I remembered YN, but I don't. Tabitha feels… safe…"

"Safe? What the fuck? She cheated on you!" Sarah states blankly, causing Harry's entire body to freeze. He knows they had some issues at times, every relationship does, and the week before that Christmas Gala had been a bit rough, but this is not something he ever thought possible. He's not even sure Sarah has her facts straight.

"What?... No… She-"

"Didn't you talk to her about this? YN said you met up with her to clear things up!"

He thinks back to that day in the cafe, sitting across from Tabitha, and hearing her explain what happened between the two of them.

"She said I broke it off."

"Yeah, you did. Because she cheated on you." She replies sternly, not necessarily towards him, but seemingly towards his ex.

"She said… fuck… she said I didn't like her working so much-"

"Kudos to her, that isn't completely untrue. But it was because she was fucking her coworker."

What Harry had been worried about with Tabitha, what he had been trying to push aside and blame on the stress of the situation, was all starting to culminate into one big knot in his stomach. He expected sadness to fill him up, but instead it's a pool of anger. She hurt him, then lied about it, and then tried to convince him that they were good together… that they would be good together again.

He immediately stands up, not even feeling fully in control of his body. He thought he knew Tabitha, he thought he remembered Tabitha, he thought his feelings for her were valid and reciprocated. And now, if anything, he feels like an idiot.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asks timidly, a friendly concern apparent in her voice.

Harry's mind is racing, to the point that he doesn't even have a clear answer. Everything since the accident is replaying in his head, and it fuels his anger even more, leaving him unable to solidify any sort of plan before he grabs his things and pushes the chair in.

"Dunno. But I'm going to see her." He growls, quickly glancing at Sarah to see her nod, and turning to leave. "Thanks Sarah."

"I'm always here for you Harry."

•••

After charming his way past the receptionist, Harry stands in front of Tabitha's office door, doing what he can to regulate the rhythm of his chest due to his rapid breathing. He decides she doesn't even deserve the decency of a knock, so he grabs the handle and swings the door wide open.

"Harry!" Tabitha exclaims, a similar shock to Sarah's instantly plastered all over her face.

"You cheated on me." He states, not asking and giving her a chance to deny it.

"Harry…" She begins to reply, motioning him to close the door and sit in the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Harry's body is so tense that he almost doesn't move from his spot, but he isn't one to make a scene in such a public place, so he gives her this one courtesy.

"Tabitha, you told me that I broke up with you. You told me that it was my decision. You told me that I insisted we were different people and that I ended what we had!"

"Yeah." She shrugs, her elbows resting on her desk and her chin propped up by her fists. "It's true…"

"Except you left out the most important part!" He growls, his palms clenching tightly into fists in his lap. Suddenly, for the very first time since the accident, something pops into Harry's mind that he didn't realize was even there to begin with. "It was Devin, wasn't it? It was your boss, Devin!"

She lets out a sigh and his anger rises as he notices a subtle roll of her eyes.

"Yeah. It was."

"I can't fucking believe this." He runs his hand through his hair, shaking it in disbelief. What surprises him about the gesture is that it's not due to her actions, but instead due to how easily he trusted her without question. He just let his desperate desire for normalcy and familiarity blind him from the reality of what their relationship had become. He hid their recent hangouts from his friends, not wanting them to convince him to do otherwise, but he never stopped to think about why he was afraid of them attempting doing so.

"Geez, Harry, what do you want me to say?" She snaps, causing Harry's eyes to send her a heated, piercing glare. She's so casual about this, as if she picked up the wrong kind of cereal from the grocery store.

"How long? I just wanna know how long you were seeing him while we were together."

His knuckles turn white as he grips on to the armrests of the chair. Not that he remembers everything, but he is certain he has never been this angry before, ever. She used him, she took him for granted, and betrayed him. And as he waits for her answer, he feels rage as she bites her lip as she ponders his question and prepares her answer.

"Six months."

"Oh for fucks sake, Tabitha! We were together for just over a year!" He exclaims, once again uncontrollably shooting straight up from the chair. "And for almost half of our relationship you were fucking someone else... Wait…"

A sensation runs through Harry's brain, almost like the tiniest spark has just ignited inside and it almost drops him to the floor. Suddenly, a picture runs through his mind and his heart almost stops beating.

"It was the Christmas Gala…" He almost wants to cry. Not because of the words he is about to say, but because of how he is even capable of saying them. "I found out at the Christmas Gala. That was the night we broke up."

He has finally remembered something.

"Harry… look… yes, I made a mistake, but I still think we can be together again…" She smirks, standing from her own chair and slowly making her way around the desk. She reaches out to grab his arm. "I can end it with him if yo-"

"You're still with him?" He begins to shout, no longer caring about the discretion he wanted to give her earlier. "God you're unbelievable! You're so fucking selfish!"

Suddenly, something else pops into his head. It's not a memory that had once been hidden, but it's of something he had recently experienced. It was of YN. She had never once been selfish since the accident. She took care of him, she never hoarded his time, and she waited as she hoped he would regain his memories and come back to her. As if he didn't already feel like an idiot before, he feels like he didn't even deserve a brain at this point, because he clearly hadn't been using it at all. His chest quickly tightens as he moves out of Tabitha's reach and towards the door. He hurt the one person who, as far as he knows, has never hurt him. Not like this. Definitely not like this.

"Whatever this was going to be, it's not." Harry replies, swinging the door open once again and stepping out, clearing his throat in hopes that he will be loud enough for her coworkers to pick up on. "Try not to sleep your way too high up the corporate ladder, yeah?"

With that, Harry turns around and heads out of the building, feeling another sort of contradictory emotion as he walks a few paces down the street and presses his back against the wall. He is proud of himself for what happened, no longer feeling inferior to the person he was once with, and giving her exactly what she deserves. But there is a hurt there. A hurt, not because of Tabitha, but because of YN. Because he hurt her. Because she deserves way better, and he wants her to know it.

•••

He didn't waste any time heading over to the flat. He doesn't know what he is expecting, except maybe a door slamming in his face, and he doesn't even know what he will say, but he wants YN to at least know that he is sorry for putting her through all of this.

The closer he gets to the building, the more he thinks about how amazing she has been to him, and how comfortable he has actually been with her. He probably won't stop scolding himself for how he let someone from his past, someone who really wasn't good for him, enter back into his life and overshadow everything YN had been giving him.

He likes the comfortable nights they spent having dinner together, watching a show or reading books. Even though they were often on opposite ends of the couch, it always felt easy, and natural. He likes the way she looks at him with a little sparkle in her eye, shying away when he meets her gaze, which he realizes was her way of not forcing herself back into his heart. He likes the way she got excited about the littlest things that meant so much to them, even if he couldn't remember. He definitely regrets snapping at her that night it started raining. He likes how she is so passionate about her work, but never lets it take over her life. He likes how she, from what he's been told, encourages him with his own passions, especially with music. He likes how she gets along with his friends, having made them her own, and bringing a few others into their tight knit group.

He likes YN.

Not for the first time today, he feels like an utter fool. From day one of waking up in the hospital, she has been there for him, and he didn't even give her a full chance. He would say he has been missing out on all those good things, but truthfully, he hasn't. She has been doing them for him the entire time, and he took it all for granted. It wasn't his intention, but it also wasn't right. So no, he wasn't missing out, but he wasn't experiencing it to the fullest. He was too scared to allow himself, which in hindsight seems ridiculous. There's a reason his mum, his sister, and his entire friend group love her so much and tried so hard to get him to see why. Because she was so good. She was so good to him and for him, yet he has been anything but good to her.

He is so deep in his thoughts that he doesn't even realize he is standing in front of the door to the flat. He raises his fist up, no longer having keys to what was once a shared space, but stops and runs his hand through his hair. He doesn't even know what to say, and he doesn't even know if he deserves the chance to anyway.

He takes a big inhale and slowly breathes out, trying to ground himself before he hits his knuckles against the door and waits anxiously for a reply.

He didn't know if he expected YN to be home, but he didn't necessarily expect to see the person that answered his knock.

"Oh god." Adhira states.

"Hey. I know… I mean… I'm sure I'm not anyone's favorite person, but is YN here?" He mutters, suddenly feeling less enthusiastic and confident about this interaction.

"No."

"When will she be back? I just… I have a few things I want to say."

"She's not coming back for another week."

"A week?" Harry replies with a loud, shocked tone. "Where… where did she go?"

"She went to visit with her parents for a bit." Adhira sighs, her gaze flickering all over his figure as he begins to fiddle with his rings, then rub the back of his neck. "Come… come in, Harry."

She moves to the side as Harry walks through the doorway and into the flat. He knows it hasn't been long, but nothing has changed. Even with all of the things he has taken to his mum's, it still looks like the place they had apparently made their home, together. The coffee machine that admittedly didn't make as good of a latte as Way Cup, a few framed photos of them together throughout the last two and a half years, and as he looks over to the couch, he notices his favorite blanket sprawled across the back of it.

"So… are you staying here?" He asks, eyes still fixed on the couch.

"No… I just came to get the mail." She replies. He had forgotten to take the blanket as it had been tucked away out of sight. But seeing it laying out there in the living room, now knowing Adhira wasn't using it, means that YN has been, and the guilt he feels for everything will be what stops him from taking it back. "What are you doing here Harry?"

His eyes snap back over to be met with Adhira's questioning look and he knows the pain he has caused YN has also spread to her friends. Their friends.

"I want to tell her that m'sorry."

"Okay… Sorry for what?" She replies, crossing her arms across her chest. He senses her caution, and her guard of YN, and he can't blame her. She is testing him, to see if he truly knows what he is apologizing for.

"For how I treated her. For how I took her for granted. For how I couldn't make a decision, and it hurt her." He actually feels mildly proud of how quickly and effortlessly he was able to explain himself. With how jumbled his thoughts have been over the past few weeks, this is the clearest he has felt in a long time.

"Okay…"

"Look, Adhira, I told Tabitha we weren't going to be anything. And even if YN never wants…" The sadness he suddenly feels when he begins to make his statement is a little out of left field. He had only just recently realized, or rather acknowledged, that he likes YN, but the thought of her never wanting to see him again made his breathing race faster. He knows he doesn't deserve a chance to start things over with her, but he is now discovering that he wants that chance. "If she never wants to see me again… I just want her to know that I know I fucked up, and m'sorry."

Adhira stands there for a moment, studying his face as he shifts his weight between his legs, unable to stand still for more than just a few moments with the amount of anxiety flowing through his veins.

"Why did you cut it off with Tabitha?" She asks.

"Some things were bothering me. And then Sarah told me that she cheated on me, and I was done."

"You didn't know she cheated on you?" She replies, a wide and seemingly mildly judgemental look on her face.

"No. She lied to me. But I don't wanna get into that. I just wanna talk to YN."

"Well, she's not here. But I don't know if that's a good idea. I think she needs… space… and her own time to think about what it is that she wants now."

Harry's heart stops for a moment. Maybe it's too late. Maybe she already doesn't want to see him anymore. He can't blame her, he did this to her to a much deeper degree, and this is his consequence. But his mouth drops open and he can't hold back what he says next.

"We're supposed to be together." The sentence rolls out, one similar to what she had said to him, that he is supposed to want her.

"This isn't an obligation, Harry. She doesn't want to be that!" Adhira throws her hands down to her hips. "And she doesn't want to be your second choice."

"She's… she's not!" He shouts, instantly becoming aware of his volume and clearing his throat as he tries to compose himself. "I want… I want to be…"

The words get stuck in his throat as his mind begins to swirl again. All the positivity and small amount of hope he had been feeling have disappeared, like his memories, potentially along with his chance to make things right with YN.

"Be with her?" She asks, only being met with a nod. "Harry, she was hurt by not being remembered by you, then she was hurt by not being chosen by you…"

"I know." He lowers his gaze to the ground, feeling as if his body could follow along with it.

"I'm just saying that I don't want to see her get hurt again." She explains, Harry quickly gazing up to see her softened features.

"And I don't want to hurt her again." He whispers. He begins to feel hopeless, and helpless. He shouldn't have hurt her in the first place, it was unintentional, but he doesn't want her to go through anymore. The accident in itself was enough for her to have to deal with, but the stress, the nightmares, and his indecisiveness piled on top was just cruel, and it was his fault. He wants to make things right between them, but he doesn't really know how, and now he definitely doesn't think he deserves the chance to. Because he doesn't want to fail her anymore. "I should… I should go."

"Harry… I'm just-"

"No, s'alright. I get it."

He shoves one hand in his pocket and the other one throws up a little wave.

"Oh. Wait. I've got something for you." Adhira quietly states, jogging into YN's bedroom and returning with two shoeboxes in her hands. "I, umm, I was cleaning her room and found these in the back of the closet… they have your name on them."

He grabs the items and opens the lid of the box on top, seeing a stack of his writing journals inside. They are filled with all sorts of melodies and lyrics for songs, something he turns to a lot when he needs to express himself or an idea just pops in his head. He has a feeling that there is a decent amount in there about Tabitha, but probably way more about YN.

"Thanks." He mumbles. He should've known things would end up this way, without either of the people he had been torn between, even though there was really only one good choice in the first place. He doesn't pity himself. This is what he deserves- slinking out of his old flat, literally caring all of his feelings with him.

•••

A knock on his old bedroom door awakens Harry from a sorrow-induced nap. He honestly never thought he'd feel this low, especially about someone he still doesn't remember before the accident, yet here he was. He hasn't stopped thinking about how truly idiotic he has been, not truly giving his supposed relationship with YN an actual chance. Hindsight is evil in this case, as he becomes so aware of how amazing YN was to him. She really is someone who is beautiful inside and out.

"Harry?" Anne's voice vibrates through the door, pulling him further out of those sleepy, regretful thoughts.

"Come in, Mum." He replies, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed.

Anne opens the door with a hot cup of tea in hand, making her way to sit next to her son and offering it to him, which he gladly accepts.

"What's going on, sweetheart?" She asks softly, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You've been grumpy since you moved back, and mopey since you got home today."

The comforting beverage in his hand serves another purpose, keeping Harry from throwing his hands up to his face. Instead, he looks quickly over to his mother, and then straight down to the ground.

"I fucked up."

"How so?" She asks lovingly, though he is fully aware that she can sense some of what is to come in this conversation. Not the details, but certainly the underlying tone.

"With YN. I was such an idiot." He replies, trying to take in a few breaths to keep himself and his thoughts together. Everything has been racing the last few weeks, and he reveled in the slightest relief he had from it as he made his way to the flat today, only for it to be snatched away from him and replaced again by the swirling tornado inside his mind. "I was too scared to try and make it work."

"Why?"

"Honestly, dunno. Afraid of the unknown maybe." He shrugs, disappointed in himself for how he handled it all. "And I let the familiarity of… Tabitha… keep me in that state of fear."

"Tabitha?" Anne replies, a bit of a hiss behind her words. "Harry… no…"

"I know. I know. It was the relationship I could remember, so I grasped onto it. But it was so stupid. I was so stupid." He winces, partially at the recollection of his poor choices, but also in anticipation of a scolding from his mum. Instead, there is silence, which causes him to look over to her. He can see her opening her mouth slightly, only to stay silent, and it makes him feel even worse that his own mother doesn't even know what to say. "Oh god… did you know? Did everyone know?"

"Know what?"

"That Tabitha cheated on me?"

Anne pulls her lips in and Harry notices an apologetic look in her eyes. His stomach knots tighter the longer she stays silent.

"Fuck! So… that means YN knew too…"

Harry suddenly feels as if he's been punched in the stomach as he watches Anne nod, painful to the point that he curls over himself, bending at the waist and almost dropping his cup of tea. YN never said anything about it, though to be fair, she also didn't know that he had been hanging out with Tabitha until recently. But even still, she didn't acknowledge it. No wonder she kicked him out. "I hurt her, Mum. Fuck. Now I dunno if I can make it right."

She places a hand on his thigh and gives it a couple of pats, something she had done throughout his childhood when they were engaged in a serious conversation.

"Harry…" She sighs, turning her body slightly more towards his and giving him a small smile. "I talked to her yesterday…"

He straightens up, unsure how he feels about the statement she just made. Is he hopeful that the connection they have with each other could give him a shot at making things right, or is he afraid that she is now cutting ties with anyone that has a connection with him?

"Y-you did?"

"Yes." She nods, giving his thigh another pat, which only causes his uncertainty to rise to the next level. "I probably shouldn't say anything."

He drops his head. That doesn't sound like a statement that would be positive for him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, letting in a large amount of air into his lungs to attempt to stay somewhat stable.

"Okay." He sighs.

She removes her hand from his thigh and begins to fidget with the hem of her jumper, clearly being the influence of his own nervous habit.

"She still loves you, Harry. Of course. But you're right, she is hurting." She states, looking to Harry with a complicated expression- compassionate yet concerned. "Do you have your memories back?"

He shook his head, furrowing his brow at the reminder of the only lost one he has managed to regain. "Only one, of the break-up with Tabitha."

"So… you want to work it out with her… even though you don't remember her from before?"

"Yeah." He softly mumbles, surprised at how well she communicated that statement. He hadn't thought about it like that. It made a smile form on his face, knowing that it means he truly does like YN, but it quickly disappears knowing that it might not matter anymore.

"Well, maybe not all hope is lost. Give her some time."

He nods, but his stomach turns in knots again and his heart sinks. He told her that he needed time, which created this painful position he finds himself in now. Time wasn't what he should've asked for, and if she ends up needing it herself, he is afraid that it won't end the way he hopes it would.

~~~~~

Series Masterlist

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[wetcatspellcaster]

hello! i have a question about finding time to write because i have an idea for an astarion fic but it's my first year in my ph.d. program and i am DROWNING IN WORK AND READINGS. how did you do this AND work on your dissertation? (also congrats on that!!! that's massive!!!)

hello, anon, congratulations to YOU on your phd programme!! many felicitations on the continuing of your education.

I took a while to reply to this, bc I'm not sure if I'm the best person to ask this question. my personal answer is 'hyperfixate on the dopamine source so, so hard until you burnout, and then feel guilty bc you haven't updated in ages (I'm currently one week since an update), and then let that guilt become your new motivator! :D'

...which doesn't seem very healthy. and definitely impacts my ability to answer the question in a way that is actually helpful.

so i don't have an answer, but my honest pieces of advice are below the cut.

idk what kinda PhD you are doing, but if it's a humanities, in my experience, there are dips and lulls. first year is always a bit hectic bc the imposter syndrome is high and you feel like you're treading water to stay afloat. but things will get so much easier, and will in fact go through peaks and troughs! in 2nd and 3rd year, i had months without any work at all. wait for a trough to do some drafting. if you're currently really struggling, then just sketch as detailed an outline as you can in a document when the idea is fresh, and then you can return to it in dribs and drabs when you have a spare moment. [if you're a scientist, apologies in advance, you have a much harder life than me!] .

this one isn't very burnout friendly, but i am introverted and treat writing fic like a hobby for when i have no social battery. then my fic battery runs out, i go be social. yes, this kinda just spreads the burnout around. yes, i also know writing is still work! but it doesn't feel like it, to me. so I guess make your fic idea as much about fun, and as least about work, as possible. make it into the catnip that will make you come back to it. treat it as an escape rather than another magnum opus, or god forbid, a second dissertation. .

this also applies to PhD work - again, if you are a humanities student, you'll inevitably hit a writing block in your thesis. these are normal, and though they feel like the worst thing at the time, they will inevitably shift. thesis writing block when i was often very productive with fic, bc my thesis wasn't taking up my brain power and/or taking time away from my thesis was exactly what i needed. If you're burned out on the thesis, maybe spend some time just playing around in your brain for a bit. my friend told me about how she used fic as a way to build 'mastery' - when she was depressed or feeling down about her thesis, she would do something she knew she was good at (fic), and this would lift her mood. in the self critical world of academia, sometimes a little fic positivity goes a long way (at least for me, but that's bc both my supervisors are very very harsh, the exact opposite of the AO3 comment box). .

find an update schedule that works for you. i used to write a whole fic before i published any of it, but that's become more untenable as my wordcounts get bigger and i need motivation. now, comments fuel me when i'm drafting. so honestly, if you think posting will add pressure, don't post. write it just for you. if you think posting is the only thing that will keep the idea alive, do it and then don't feel guilt if there's a large gap in updates. people will still read it when it eventually goes up! :)

Honestly, I don't really have an answer. I wrote a lot these last few months bc I was feeling very depressed with the endgame of my thesis, and writing distracted me and made me feel better. I try to keep two nights a week free for fic, but that works for me bc I'm an introvert who lives alone. I don't think you can force it, but what I can tell you is that the PhD does get much, much easier (and that first year is also a perfectly legit time to faff around a bit and commit some time theft if you want - at least in the humanities, bc you'll still have so much time in your project).

I'm sorry I don't have a clear answer! Fic is important to me, so I make time for it, sometimes to my own detriment. If your PhD is what is important to you rn, fic can wait! Similarly, if you want to take some time away from that treading water, maybe microdose an hour or so of fic to start building mastery :) xx

[mandrakebrew]

Show Me the Place Where your Words Come From

Words: 1,424 Rating: General Content Warning: oc x canon

In retrospect, Dr Palmer should have counted themselves lucky that the city's library had a couple books on Hungarian. One on learning the language, and another on it's history. They asked the librarian if any others were checked out, and none were. So they checked out what was there, and headed out.

Their next stop was the bookstore they frequented. The store didn't have anything, but Palmer asked the owner if he could get them some books on the language, and some magazines and catalogues too, if possible. The owner said he'd try.

After they started gathering resources, they realized a slight problem. One of their commanders bad habits was snooping around. Their home was no exception. They'd caught him once, and found some items of theirs moved around in their drawers. If they wanted the surprise to actually be a surprise, they'd have to get clever.

Fortunately, at least for this instance, they grew up in a home where they needed to keep things hidden, so it was a well developed talent. Putting them inside something with a lock wasn't a good idea. Might as well put a big sign that said 'Look in Here!' above it. Palmer could ask Para-Medic to keep them at her place, but having to explain what they were doing made them want to avoid that option.

Drawers, and cabinets were also a no go. Putting them under their mattress was almost laughably bad. However…

They slid themselves under the bed, pushing some boxes out of their way. They took the knife they keep in their pocket and cut a slit almost a foot in length into the fabric under the box spring. Then they placed the books onto the wooden frame inside.

The hiding spot worked for two years.

Palmer found a couple co-workers who were native speakers as well. Which was fortunate since they pointed out just how bad the doctor's pronunciation was. Those conversations were had when Palmer was sure Skull Face was nowhere in the building. Quickly silencing a conversation with someone when he walked in the room would never look innocent. They'd have to spoil the surprise, otherwise their commander would assume the worst of the situation.

Alas, it got spoiled not because of Skull Face's snooping, or having caught Palmer in a hushed conversation, but because the doctor couldn't help getting distracted.

They'd wandered into their bedroom after taking a bathroom break from studying. They noticed their books no longer fit on their bookshelf, and were decided which ones to get rid of. They got so focused on this task that they failed to notice the sound of the front door opening.

Eventually, they remembered what they'd been doing, and returned to the living room. Only to find their commander sitting on the couch, looking at the study materials spread about the coffee table.

Palmer now only slightly regretting giving him a key and telling him to come over whenever he wanted.

The commander had his back to them, and didn't seem to know they'd walked back into the room, so they stayed quiet. Skull Face currently flipping through one of their notebooks. He then traded it for one of the catalogues Palmer had. They got it for translation practice, and to see pictures of Hungarian homes.

They took a few more moments simply to watch, enjoying the novelty of sneaking up on him for once. Eventually they walked around the couch and into his line of sight. “I meant for it to be a surprise.” They explained.

If Skull Face was startled by their sudden appearance, he didn't show it. “You're learning Hungarian.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah, I just thought…” Their commander was their lover, yes, but he was also their friend. One of, if not the only, person they could truly be themselves around. He made them feel safe for once. While they both shared knowledge of English and German, the doctor felt it was unfair they could never speak in his mother tongue. They knew nothing of it, and he'd lost most of it growing up. Another tragedy from a long list in Skull Face's life.

“I wanted us to be able to speak in your mother tongue, not just mine.”

“How long have you been working on this?” His voice had gone quiet to the point they almost missed what he asked.

”Két év, gondolom?“

The commander just stared at them in response. Did they say it wrong? Was their pronunciation off again? Did he not understand what they said?

Before they could ask anything though, Skull Face cleared his throat. He dropped the catalogue he'd been holding onto the table.

“Excuse me, there's something I need to attend to.”

”What? You just got here.“

”Yes, but I just remembered it.“ He responded as he got the door. He still had his hat and jacket on so he quickly left the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Palmer started wringing their hands. Did they offend him? Was this whole thing an overstep? A mistake? Should they try to call him later tonight or wait until work tomorrow to talk?

Palmer looked at the materials on their table. They should probably put those away now.

As he walked back towards his home, Skull Face tried to process what the hell just happened. He wasn't used to it, people just being kind him, at least not without some hidden hook. Not since his childhood which he now barely recalls. This though, goes beyond kindness. They spent all that time… Doing something for him?

Skull Face was a man of action, he was rarely swayed by talk. It was too easy to say one thing and then act another. So being told the words, “I care about you,“ or ”you're important to me,“ didn't mean a whole lot to him.

Actions however, were harder to ignore. There was hard evidence in front of him that the doctor cared about him.

He cleared his throat again, and breathed in sharply. His vision began to blur, and his eyes stung. Skull Face shook his head and started walking faster towards his home.

They didn't speak again until lunchtime the next day. Palmer could barely focus on work, absentmindedly doing paperwork. The morning had been calm was well, making it drag on even more.

Finally, they heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” If it wasn't their commander, the doctor was going to have an anxiety attack.

”Afternoon, Doctor,“ Thankfully for the doctor, Skull Face opened the door and came inside.

”Ah, Commander,“ They forced a smile, trying to keep control of their nerves.

”My apologies, for the interruption last night.“

”It's alright, I'm sure it was out of your hands." Him needed to go do something was an obvious lie, they knew that. In fact they were sure Skull Face knew they knew that.

They moved the conversation away, "Anything interesting happen this morning?“ They'd complain about their day, but they knew better than to complain about a slow day in the medical field.

”I had a meeting with the major, not much else.”

“Oh? Anything you can tell me?”

“It's confidential, I'm afraid.”

The doctor made a fake pouting face at him, before letting it drop, ”Ah well, I trust you know what you're doing.“

The XO wondered if they meant 'you' as a collective. Or just him.

There was a tense silence after that, before they both spoke at the same time, the elephant finally being acknowledged.

”Doctor-“

”Listen-“

The both stop again, then the commander gestures for Palmer to continue.

”I didn't mean to upset you, if that's what happened.“

Upset? Is that how they took his reaction? Then again, how else were they supposed to take it?

”You didn't,“ He paused, ”I appreciate the thought.“

That's a relief, though they were still confused as to his… Theatrics.

They'd been so caught up in worrying that they'd damaged their relationship somehow, they never considered that his reaction might be a positive one. But the more they did think about it, the more it made sense. He'd gone so long without kind gestures that he'd simply didn't know how to respond. An abused dog that cries out when pet.

”Szívesen, commander.“ They smiled at him. ”Now that's it out in the open, maybe you can help me study.“

”I'm still learning it myself, you know.” He reminded them.

“Well then, we can help each other study.”

An excuse to spend more time with the other, not that they really needed one.

A/N: Két év, gondolom = 2 years, i think Szívesen = You're welcome

[colderdrafts]

I was thinking about what the relationship between Morgan and the reader would be like and an idea came to me, but before I write my request I want to explain how I imagine the relationship between Morgan and the reader if the first person the reader met was Morgan and not Dren and how their relationship would be with each other:

the reader is a bit Tsundere, not the annoying or offensive type, it Just the way they respond to him most of the time but they're physically affectionate, sometimes they randomly go and hug Morgan, and Morgan just tries to Woo them in general.

My request: Morgan and the reader haveing another routine day, at night when Morgan sleeps they’re place get attacked and the reader wakes them up, Morgan gets hurt and the reader stays up all night to treat them (their wounds are really painful and the reader knows it) and stays by their side, Morgan is surprised by their sudden interest and that it’s not really part of their role but the reader do it anyway

have a great day <:

You have a galaxy brain and I thank you for it. A 'Morgan got ya first' oneshot under the cut <3

Tw for violence

It’s always a fun time figuring out how to fall asleep after a long day of traveling. One’s mind tend to keep going even after the body has settled, replaying the events, smells, sights and feelings in a never-ending loop. Decompressing. Filtering and sorting input in neat little boxes.

Perhaps the soreness in your legs and feet can serve as a distraction.

Your ventures with Morgan has this time brought you to a large span of mountainous landscapes. You’re spending the night on an outcropping of a cliff, with a view the stretches far over the horizon. Morgan has taken the liberty of webbing up an opening in the cliff-side for both of you to rest inside.

The view from here is nothing short of breathtaking. Underneath the silent night sky and illuminated by the moon, vast forests stretch far towards the curve of the world, completed by a faint spark of blue that hints to a great ocean.

You’ve been on the road with Morgan for a while now, gotten more or less used to their odd antics and, at times, pushy habits.

Sentry, they call you, a name and a title. They whisper it fondly, barely audible but enough for it to send shivers down your spine. That word carries a promise. A vow you have no choice but to keep.

They’re asleep now, nestled inside the alcove in the rock on a soft bedding of web they spun. The gentle sound of their steady breaths and occasional chittering soothes you, and you hate it.

It’s clear they want to get close to you, and you don’t really have much choice in the matter. The horrible pain in your chest that plagues you every single time you think of running off makes keeping this distance that much harder. And Morgan is well aware you’ve been trying to figure out how to get out of this, yet they don’t do anything to stop you from trying to leave. They simply don’t have to. They know you’ll remain close, even as they sleep.

Morgan is patient and gentle with you, and you can never tell if it’s a front to ease your mind, or if it’s simply the assurance that you’re in for the long haul, like it or not. The second they had you close enough you were connected, without fully understanding what happened.

Which is why you've firmly held on to your stubbornness, and do what you can to keep them at bay.

It doesn’t work very well, seeing as you’re currently sitting on a small mat of web outside their sleeping space, hoping the cool night air will calm your mind. Morgan recognizes your movements, but will awaken if anything but you disturbs it – an efficient alert system for your sleepless nights, and need for space without a glaring red focus watching your every move.

Morgan fell asleep pretty quick, calmed by your presence. The air is getting colder, and winter is getting closer. With it comes Morgan’s yearly period of lethargy – onset of exhaustion before they’re out of commission for hibernation. At this time, they may as well be dead to the world. You’ll be their only saving grace, in case someone dangerous takes advantage of that vulnerability.

You’ve been traveling the mountains to find a suitable spot for them to rest. You stare out on the forest, dreading the weeks of solitude you’ll be forced to endure once they do.

After all, Morgan is your only company in this world. Nobody wants to approach you with them around. Not that they actively prevent it, but their presence and unsettling demeanor simply makes common-folk anxious. It hasn’t exactly been easy to make friends.

Not that you would have an option of visiting them anyway, now that you’re bound to Morgan’s side.

You look at their sleeping face, crude mandibles twitching at times, breathing slowly. Like this, their face looks almost peaceful, inviting. When you move a little, trying to gain some space, a faint purr escapes them, and they reach a hand out to where you’re sitting. As if your stirring was because of a bad dream, and not your current stressful thoughts. As if trying to calm you, even in their sleep.

And much to your chagrin, it works. It always does. Whatever they did to you when you first met makes sure that their proximity and soothing behavior always, always makes your body relax. You have to restrain yourself from reaching back for their outstretched hand.

Sometimes you do so without thinking – brushing your fingers over their arm, chest, neck or hair before you can stop yourself. Morgan always leans back into you, reciprocating and looking for more. When you pull back, they follow. You constant shadow, you haven’t had a day on your own since you met them.

Even if it wouldn’t tear your heart apart to leave, you can’t. You’d be dead already, if they hadn’t stepped in to defend you at every turn. This world is extremely dangerous to creatures such as yourself. And creatures such as Morgan, for that matter.

As if called by your thought, you hear a faint snap of a branch somewhere in the woods next to you, and immediately you’re on high alert.

You rise to your feet, silently, and stare out toward the source of the sound.

It’s dark, and you’re at a disadvantage. It could just be deer. But it could also be something dangerous, and you've learned the necessity in making sure.

You take a cautious step forward to get a better view. Another snap catches your attention, and you look to your right.

Some leaves are rustling, and you surmise it must be deer, or some other harmless thing. Something that wanted to take you by surprise would never make so much noise.

At ease, you turn to go back – yet there’s a blur of movement, and suddenly something sharp sends a ping of pain through your neck.

“Gah-!” you gasp, and quickly reach up and pull out a small dart.

Seems the 'deer' was a distraction.

The dart is coated in a clear liquid that has a strong, bitter scent you recognize, and it would appear you’re in luck. If that had nicked an artery, you’d be completely immobilized already. But when a very strong dizziness follows still, you know you’ll have to act swiftly.

You stumble backwards, a tingling numbness haunting your limbs. You catch a glimpse of three figures stepping out of the woods, silently rushing towards you, and you turn and start sprinting towards your custodian.

You almost collapse upon their sleeping form, shaking their shoulder.

“M-Morgan,” you urge, already feeling faint. “We’re in danger, wake up!”

Their eyes snap open at your call, and suddenly your world is turned around.

In a split second, they snatch you off the ground, on their feet, clutching you tightly to their chest and front legs raised high in a threat posture. A second passes where they’re still, quiet and contemplating, and you know they’re sensing for movement triggering their webs.

They nudge their face against the back of your neck, a warning clatter escaping them. You feel their comforting heat radiating off them, encompassing you, searching for injuries. They breathe in and hiss, and you wonder if they can sense the venom in your neck.

And that’s when a sudden whoosh sounds, followed by a thud. Morgan’s hold on you loosens as they squeal in pain.

You fall to the ground as Morgan let's go to step over you, multiple legs blocking you from whatever just attacked them. They skitter around, hissing and snarling. A fine spear hits the ground, coated in fresh blood.

You see them now, blocking any path away from the mountain and rapidly approaching. Three hunters, cloaked and carrying spears, barking orders of attack at each other.

“Circle around it!”

“Pin its legs!”

“Don’t get within range! It’s guarding the sentry!”

Another sound like a whip crack rings through the air, and Morgan hisses again. You look up to see a crude hook firmly locked into one of their legs and pulling from a rope, tearing the tough carapace and getting stuck in the joint. The hunters are attempting to restrict their freedom of movement.

Morgan ignores the pain and roughly pulls, an awful tearing sound accompanying the movement. They stubbornly tear themself free, before another hunter can throw another hook.

“What the-” is the only thing that escapes the hunter before Morgan is rapidly upon him, legs lifting him into the air like he weighs nothing but a dime.

The others scatter, realizing their plan foiled, and prepare other weapons.

Morgan hisses as they slam the hunter up against the rocky mountainside, head-first. There’s an uncanny crunching sound, as the inside of his skull gets closely acquainted with the rocky surface.

Yells of warning and another woosh as a spear soars through the air, and lands in Morgan’s shoulder.

They discard the mangled corpse, turn, and storm toward the hunter who threw it, movement almost a blur. Their legs stabs at where they’re standing, the hunter swiftly dodging their attacks in a deadly dance. The spear in Morgan’s should dislodges at the rapid movement.

Meanwhile you're struggling to open your satchel, searching for a specific concoction Morgan shoved you how to make. It’s difficult to pick out the correct antidote, scrambling around with your partially paralyzed body, fingers not responding to your brain’s commands of movement. You manage to find the correct one and quickly chug it, ignoring the gross bitterness. Now you have to wait for it to work.

While distracted, the third hunter is suddenly upon you, and you have to clumsily spin out of the way to avoid a spear just as it was jabbing at your chest. The move sent another wave of dizziness over you, you wobbly legs almost giving out from under you.

You grit your teeth and throw your satchel at the hunter to gain some breathing room.

She parries, knocking the satchel aside before it can connect. As you turn toward the alcove for cover she steps forward, and uses the advantage the range of a spear gives her to whack you over the side of the head. A white hot pain shoots through your skull, and combined with the venom you land heavily on the floor.

You feel something sharp prickling against your back. You glance over your shoulder to see the third hunter having a spear pointed pointed firmly at you, but staring at Morgan struggling against the second hunter.

Morgan swipes their feet, and when the hunter lands on the ground they immediately take advantage of the exposed position, slamming their sharp claws into their chest. The hunter screeches in pain as they tear through cleanly.

Morgan picks the impaled hunter off the ground, and hurls them over the side of the cliff with a disgusted growl. In you stupor, you can only hear the faint gurgling scream before it’s replaced by a wet thud.

Morgan turn their gleaming red eyes toward you, chittering and heaving for breath. Blood and a viscous clear liquid is pouring from open wounds in their shoulder, abdomen and legs.

Then their eyes settle on the one threatening you. Their face contorts in rage, mandibles flaring and teeth bared as they advance on her with rapid steps.

“No sudden moves,” the last hunter bellows. “Or I kill them!”

The spear presses into you slightly, and you whine as it pierces the skin.

Morgan halts, hissing, and rights themselves, eyes darting between you and the hunter.

You know that look. They’re analyzing, planning, searching for advantages.

The hunter shifts uncomfortably under their scrutinizing, their grip on the spear tightening. You can feel her hands shaking through the sharp tip as she clutches it. She’s afraid.

Morgan stares at her, unblinking, righting themselves so their gangly limbs slightly creak as they move.

“Will you?” they chitter mockingly, voice an odd mixture of speech and hissing. As if the lower and upper body are speaking all at once. “And what then?”

The hunter hesitates. “Then you’ll die.”

Morgan smiles then, a fanged grin with eyes full of viciousness. “No,” they snicker. “Then -”

They take a quick step towards her, testing, taunting, clicking claws echoing off the mountain walls. The spear doesn’t seep deeper into you. The hunter is wholly focused on them.

“I will paralyze you, and slowly tear you apart. I’ll take my time and devour you piece. By. Piece.”

The hunter grits her teeth, considering her options, keeping her grip on you like a lifeline.

“Then-” Morgan continues, still smiling, “you will feel every single agonizing moment of your muscle and bone being pulled apart. You won’t die before I let you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You gasp as the spear threatening you moves slightly as the hunter puts pressure on it in retaliation, regaining some composure. Morgan hisses at the sound, legs clawing at the ground.

“You won’t reach me before they’re dead,” the hunter counters, voice a little lower.

“Is that so? Would you like to bet?” Morgan asks nonchalantly, crouching down as if readying to pounce. Then their eye settle on you, gleaming with wicked amusement.

It seems they have a plan.

With a grunt of effort, you suddenly twist to the side, wincing as the spear cuts over your skin. The hunter startles at your sudden movement, and missteps to regain her balance. The second she does, any pressure on your body leaves abruptly. It is replaced by a large shadow looming over you.

Morgan is above you in a split second, and so is the hunter, trapped in their grip. The spear falls to the ground with a clatter.

“I win,” Morgan sneers.

The hunter flails in a panic, to which Morgan chuckles. From your angle you can just barely make out the hunter.

And catch a glimpse of shining steel from a knife they’ve just pulled out from under their cloak.

“Morgan, look out-!”

There’s another wet tearing sound, followed by Morgan squealing in pain as the hunter buries the weapon somewhere in their front.

Morgan jumps forward and away from you, and with the motion whacks the hunter onto the dirt. They wrap the claws of their front legs around her neck and start pulling as she screams. There’s a squelch, and the hunter starts gurgling horribly, uselessly heaving for breath through a torn throat.

Morgan stares down at the hunter for the few moments it takes before she goes quiet.

The silence that follows is heavy. Morgan wobbles, and slumps down, breathing hard as the adrenaline settles.

The antidote having somewhat dispelled your paralysis, you rise to your feet, and rush to their side to assess the damage.

Morgan turns toward you, and lean down to meet you halfway, grasping your shoulders and staring you in the face. Their hands ghost over your neck and jaw as they chitter quietly, making sure you’re still there. A knife is sticking out from beneath their collar bone, oozing blood.

Along their other injuries, they’re not looking too good.

You put your hands out towards them, unsure where to put them. What will help, and what will cause further damage? You settle for clutching their wrists.

“Fuck,” you breathe, staring at them. “Holy shit. Fuck!”

Morgen takes a deep breath at your voice, calming themself.

“Not the best time right now, unfortunately," Morgan teases and coughs, wincing as the movement disturbs the weapon buried inside them.

You groan at them in frustration. “Now’s not the time for jokes, idiot! Come on, we gotta get those sealed up. Can you walk?”

“Yes,” Morgan replies through gritted teeth, and stands back up, avoiding putting weight on their mangled leg.

They glance down at it, assessing it for a second, frowning like it’s an outlier that should not be counted. Then they rise up just a moment, placing two healthy legs on either side of the limb, claws grasping it tightly.

Oh. Oh no-

You grab at one of their free legs to stop them. “Woah, woah – Morgan, don’t you fucking dare-!”

There’s a disgusting crackling noise from tough chitin bending and giving way. Morgan pulls at their leg, cleanly severing it from their body with a bellow of strained effort, hissing and snarling in pain. They throw it aside like it has been a thorn in their side for a decade.

The appendage flops to the ground, discarded like yesterday’s newspaper, and a clear liquid starts pouring from the place where it used to be attached.

“Why?!” you bark at them, tearing off your shirt to wrap around the stump left behind and staunching the bleeding.

“Slowing me,” they hiss.

“Inside. Now,” you demand, grabbing their arm to lead them in the right direction, since you can’t do much in terms of supporting their weight.

Morgan’s fingers curl around your wrist affectionately as they let you. Their hands are shaking.

Once inside, and Morgan has been somewhat stabilized, you get to work mixing up herbs and grinding powder into a cleansing balm.

Just like they taught you. In case you are ever in need of it, and I’m not around.

“You’re getting very good at that,” Morgan praises, watching you work. Their speech comes a little slurry.

How they can keep a level head after all of that is beyond you, but maybe that’s the blood loss talking. Can you lose adrenaline from blood loss?

You ignore them, focusing on getting bandages ready. “Focus on keeping pressure on those wounds.”

“Yes, dear,” they purr. Then they hiss.

“What?” you ask hurriedly, turning toward them.

“Just some pain. I’ll live,” they smile, a little strained. “Hmm, never though I’d see you worry about me like that.”

“Shut it,” you huff, turning back to the task at hand. “I need to focus.”

“Oh, am I distracting you?”

“Shut. It. And keep the pressure.”

They hum, and you try to ignore the sensation of Morgan unabashedly staring at you as you work.

After treating the wound where their leg used to be, and the cut in their shoulder, you turn your attention the other obvious safety hazard sticking out of their chest, unsure how to approach it. The dagger is buried deep under the collar bone, but since Morgan is still breathing luckily it didn’t puncture anything. But you’ll have to be very careful removing it.

You turn to find something to seal wound with, though you hear Morgan grunt, and a wet slop follows. You spin on your heel and watch as Morgan deftly pulls out the knife from under their collar bone, and it goes from trickling to pouring blood.

“What the – NO!” you yell at them, hurrying over to put pressure on it with a piece of cloth. “Are you insane?!”

“It needed to get out sooner or later,” Morgan slurs, throwing the weapon aside.

“Not until I was ready to staunch it!” you protest, doing your best to keep your hands on the wound. You glare up into their exhausted red eyes calmly watching you scramble. “Keep pressure on this too, you moron.”

They comply, folding their hands over yours and chuckling. Seems they’re still coherent enough, as they have the audacity to find your fluster amusing. “I will. Go do your thing, sentry.”

You pull your hands out from under theirs, and get to work making a makeshift plug of bandages to seal the wound a little better, rushing back and forth to get everything in place and ready to staunch the bleeding.

If this keeps up, you have a long night ahead of you.

After two hours of managing blood loss, carefully sealing deeper wounds, re-wrapping up their legs, abdomen, shoulder and chest, you’re finally finished.

The procedure took at lot out of Morgan’s energy reserves, however. You’ll save the scolding of furthering their own injuries for when they’re coherent enough to hear them.

They look even paler than usual, their breathing coming ragged and fast. You’re worried a fever may set in, and you’ve done your best preparing herbs like they’ve shoved you to combat it.

They’re sluggish, yet still acting skittish and jumpy, which is an alarming change from their usual brash and confident attitude. They talk less – staring out over the edge of your hide, legs constantly in tune with the tripwire they’ve spun. Their lower body has seemingly taken hold of the situation, leaving their usual social etiquette on the back-burner in favor of active survival instincts. Perhaps a response to the current danger of lethargy and weakness.

“Morgan. Settle down and sleep. You need to rest,” you inform them.

They shake their head, staring out beyond the edge of your hide and into the dark. They’re shivering yet coated in sweat.

You slowly reach up and put your hands on either side of their face to regain their attention. It works immediately as their eyes dart to you with intense focus. You can feel their warmth underneath your palms, caressing the inside of your wrists.

“I’ll keep watch. You sleep,” you say gently.

And it seems that was the magic words. Morgan smiles at you, not the usual knowing or teasing smirk you’ve grown used to, but a genuine expression of contentment. The complete earnest look leaves you slightly flabbergasted.

You can feel the connection of the little strings between you pulling slightly, and you know you’ve just made them a promise.

“Okay,” they hum.

They finally settle down, carefully folding their legs in a comfortable position, and laying down.

Resigned to your fate, you settle down next to them, leaning on the front of their abdomen. A pedipalp curls around your stomach.

The second you’re there, they’re out like a light. You keep your word, and watch the surroundings as Morgan finally rests.

It’s one of the roughest nights of your life.

Morgan’s state worsens as the hours pass, shifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, bleeding through several bandages. When they’re awake, you have to almost physically restrain them from standing up back on guard. When they’re asleep, you have to keep an eye out on everything lurking in the forest that could be attracted by the smell of blood and weakness. Simultaneously, you keep your hand on their neck, intently feeling for their continued pulse and listening to their breathing. You fear the second their rhythm halts, and realize you’re afraid of losing them.

When they’re delirious and gasping from the pain, you try your best to soothe them, running your hands over their hair, neck, arms and legs. The tingling warmth beneath their skin reaches for you, more so than ever. For the first time, you feel yourself reaching back. You don’t know what it is you’re doing, but whatever it is, it works. You can feel a disturbance, faint sparks of static and knots in the usual gentle energy rolling off them. You smooth them out as you run your hands over them. Tension leaves their limbs, and they settle against you, more at ease. Perhaps you’re simply helping them carry the pain.

But they need another distraction from their lower body telling them to be prepared to fight.

So you talk to them. You tell them silly little stories of your home life, describe the way an old friend used to eat their favorite meal oddly, anything that comes to mind. Morgan responds with nothing more than small acknowledging grunts and hums, and eventually they’re asleep again. And you go back to keeping a hand on their pulse, stroking their hair, and keeping a lookout for any other disturbances.

“I never thought I’d see the day where you wanted to take care of me,” Morgan purrs, staring at you. “I could get used to this.”

You resist the urge to smack them, seeing as they’re already in a world of pain. You huff as you pick off some webbing from a bandage on their leg. It stubbornly sticks to your fingers.

It’s two days after the attack, and their teasing habits have returned with force. They’re still severely hurt, but some rest and intense care-taking has done wonders for them. Unfortunately.

“Do not make me do all of this ever again,” you scold them. “This whole thing was almost too much. You could have died.”

They brush a hand against you cheek. “My my, sentry, you don’t want me to get hurt?”

“Of course not,” you grunt. “If you die, I’m as good as dead. And vice versa. Remember?”

“Hmm, quite so. I love how you’ve finally taken to that,” Morgan says.

When you ignore them in favor of fidgeting with the bandage, they press their forehead against the top of your skull. You halt your movements.

“But are you sure it’s just the agreement?” they whisper gently.

You breathe out as their calming proximity washes over you again, soothing your limbs. “What do you mean?”

You can hear the smile in their voice. “Are you sure it’s not because you secretly care about me? Just a little bit?”

You shake off the spell, and tie the final knot on the bandage tightly. “No.”

Morgan laughs, but then winces again. You instinctively put your hands out to steady them. The knowing look they send you is nothing short of infuriating, so you turn to put the excess medical tools away.

They reach out then, wrapping their legs around your waist, and gently pulling you back to them.

Usually you’d pull away or scoff or tell them to knock it off. Usually you’d be reluctantly admitting how nice it feels to be in their arms to yourself, and distance from it as best as you can.

But right now they seem a little weak for the first time. Right now they’re severely hurt by fighting for both your lives. You came out of it more or less unscathed again, because Morgan brutally made sure you would.

The least you could do is try to revel a little in that connection that seemingly brings them a world of calm.

So when your back reaches their chest you just lean back into them with a sigh, half contended, half resigned. Morgan shifts their legs to rest on either side of you, and wraps their arms around you, resting their head on your shoulder. Their warmth follows quickly after, a soothing and soft blanket rolling off them in gentle waves. Even now, they’re trying to calm you down.

“You know, this isn’t part of the agreement,” Morgan says softly, leaning heavily on you.

“What isn’t?”

“Tending to my wounds. The deal is I defend us, at any cost, and you keep watch when I can't. You could have let me bleed out and perish.”

You pause. “Would I be free then?”

“Free,” Morgan repeats with a thoughtful hum. They gently pres their face against your neck as they speak. “Is that how you think of this? That you’re a captive?”

“You didn’t give me much choice in the matter," you mutter. "And now I can’t leave.”

“And yet you still fought hard for my survival. You stayed by my side through it all to keep me alive.”

“I did.”

“So are you a captive, or a very efficient sentry?” they praise, running a hand over your hair.

The affectionate motion makes you shiver.

“You know this isn’t good, Morgan. For either of us,” you rasp.

“If it’s so bad, why didn’t you just let me die?” they counter. “You must care at a certain level, even if you don’t want to admit it. But that’s okay, I understand. You don’t have to say anything.”

Good. You’re not inclined to.

Morgan hums at your silence, and squeezes you gently. “You must be exhausted, and it’s my turn to take care of you now. You’ve earned some rest after all this. Get some sleep.”

You stare out over the far horizon, ignoring the pools of crimson and traces of mangled innards still coating the surface of the cliff. Morgan holds you close, as they always do, and you fall asleep in their arms with a taste of blood in your mouth.

[akutasoda]

Hi just out d curiosity, how many requests did you exactly got? Because my goodness that's a lot of request you have written and your request box is already close! (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

You're motivation Must be high, do you have any tip to share how you keep your motivation?📝

hi!! i dont remember exactly how i many i received last time i opened requests but this is my current amount ^^

(apologies for those that requested, i will be getting round to finishing them as soon as possible!!)

i do understand that my inbox has been closed for a while and that's on me, i normally forget to close requests when there's a reasonable amount and so they often pile up-

honestly, my motivation really only comes from my boredom - which probably makes me seem like the most boring person ever haha! alot of the time i normally get motivated to do requests more than anything i start myself, this stems from the fact that i feel bad for how long the requests sit there and so i always try and get them done as quickly as i can!! (i also enjoy doing requests in-between my own pieces because it's refreshing in a way? i can get vv distracted and so doing requests while writing my own stuff helps keep me focused and helps get me into the mood)

i do have a few tips however!! -

my number one thing that i always do is listen to my playlist that i made to write to - that or i play one of my favourite shows in the background ^^

another thing, mainly for fics and longer works, is planning out an outline for the whole thing, that way you always have a brief idea of what you need to do!!

you can also use the above as a way to set mini goals!! it's important to take a break to ensure that it doesn't get sloppy or rushed. so say if you had five points in your outline, when you reach the second or third and are struggling to think of any ideas or can't get into the piece, take a break and come back later!! but normally for me when i write a certain amount i start getting carried away and can't stop-

im not a professional at giving advice but i hope these help a little :') if you do have anymore questions i can try my best to answer <3

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary306

7/21-22/24

sunday - monday

hallo... i need to sleep...

i barely slept yesterday... because of a...medical issue, i guess is the best way to put it. if it keeps up i will explain but it's not terribly new it's just very annoying this time around.

today i finished that song for the contest, here that is:

people seemed to like it, they said it was happy sounding, they're right, it basically is, i named the song that for a reason, usually for the contests i try to go with something rather meaningless, i dunno why, anyway this song feels like it gets close to capturing how i feel when it rains. especially that part in the middle that's super, i dunno, dreamy is not really the right word but it feels distantly shoegaze-y to me. it's also the song having a grindcore moment, definitely, in its own way.

although the way i feel about rain is also a little melancholy, cuz it doesn't last long out here. it's very fleeting except for when it's strong, when it's strong it feels strange and religious.

i did work some more samples into it, barely audible hihat loops on top of the programmed hihats, which are also samples, but they're just single hits arranged. the layers i think being barely perceptible does add a lot to the song, honestly, it adds some pace/cacophony where there was less before, and it doesn't distract, plus they're going into a spring reverb so they're creating a bit more of a sense of space, as well.

anyway, last night, while i couldn't sleep, i did write little...things, i dunno what to call them, tiny pieces of writing though, based on the feel like so blurbs written for each pullip doll. i am currently drawing a doll-thing to put some words next to it, i think i'll finish that tomorrow. this is a good little diversion from music, i think next thing i do with music, i want to practice guitar. we also might go out tomorrow.

today i also listened to the lizzy mercies descloux album press color for the first time. it's very cool, the tracklisting is diff from the og, since i got the version which has a bunch of extra stuff and it messes with the track listing for no reason. that tracklist i think screws with how the album might feel cuz it wasn't much more than pretty cool and way ahead of its time in some ways. but my favorite tracks were the ones she did as rosa yemen, those have been favorites since highschool though.

this one's pretty good though, wonky weirdo disco geetarz:

and what a cover!!

i do really like hearing stuff like this, it's pretty helpful to figure out kind of moves as a dance-y guitar line or idea, how to get to that, i do like all the fast weird stuff they do here especially though, definitely brings to mind arab on radar, and the super duper repetitive bassline.

this kinda thing also brings to mind i should listen to some stuff by bauhaus again, they've got some death disco-y stuff... and then of course... w/ death disco

all timer. i didn't like metal box too much when i first heard it, i still do prefer first issue... i need to revisit it some more but this was such an instant hit for me. the swan lake interpolation is so awesome, and the bassline... it's just one of the best basslines ever.

anyway. i have to sleep, i can't be up too late... and i really did only get 2 hours of sleep last night...

so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[little-annie]

All I Want | Ch 3

Steddie Fic | Little_Annie | Ao3

Chapter two in the link ⤵️

Eddie had been home for a little less than a month. Doing what? Steve didn't know. Not as much as he'd like to anyways. It's not like he could keep up his gatherings or calls with Wayne, not with Eddie back to living in the trailer. On the rare occasion that Wayne was home while Eddie was at school and Steve wasn't working or volunteering to distract himself, then yeah they could get together or at the very least Wayne would call with an update but recently those updates were few and far between.

Delivering care packages through town and volunteering at some of the remaining relief shelters provided some solace, be it a veil of illusion or not but that was short lived anyways, Hawkins recovering in record time and Steve's own energy levels dwindling. Grief does that to a person he's discovered.

Oftentimes in idle moments between work and chats with Wayne he found himself in the same spot he'd remain for months to follow. Sulking in his bed, wishing things could've been different. More times than not it was accompanied by the quiet hum of Eddie's cassettes and the lingering comfort the man's clothes held as they draped over his figure.

It'd only been maybe a handful of times that he'd seen Robin or Dustin. On all accounts it was thanks to their own persistence. Robin climbing through the window of the kitchen, falling rather unceremoniously to the linoleum floor with a huff or Dustin's incessant knocking.

He hadn't meant to shut everyone out, but he couldn't handle the reminders of Eddie that clung to them. Especially Dustin. It was heartbreaking to see him and watch him grieve in the same way Steve only could behind closed doors. But it was in those times that he'd realise it wasn't only him who'd lost Eddie. Dustin was beside himself and as unfortunate as that may be, it only helped to add to Steve's plan.

After his most recent call with Wayne, whispered words through the line before Eddie got home from band practice, they had a solid plan. Well the start of one anyway. But it was something nonetheless and goddammit did Steve hope it'd work.

-

It's with a flimsy idea of a plan, high hopes and Dustin Henderson at his side, that Steve was currently lingering in the grocery store, knowing Eddie to hopefully show his face as per his earlier conversation with Wayne.

Though Dustin didn't know the full gist of the plan, he knew the idea was to win over Eddie once again, be it for the sake of himself and Hellfire and not one sad and grieving Steve Harrington.

They were in the cereal aisle, Steve behind the cart and Dustin at his side, the kid being uncharacteristically quiet with a worrying expression on his face, though he'd try and mask it anytime he actually did speak.

Weird Al shirt and a gummy grin, the kid tosses a box of Honeycomb cereal into the cart with an annoying clang, "You sure about this?" He asks

"No," Steve simply states, because he's really not sure about this. Not just the plan, but his capabilities on remaining normal for the moments to come. He hasn't seen Eddie in over a month and his heart aches for the man. He's not sure he can restrain himself from tackling Eddie in a flurry of kisses in the middle of the grocery store.

Well, that, or having an absolute breakdown.

"Oh, well that's great Steve," Dustin sneers, all attitude, "really convincing. Great pep talk."

But before Steve can retort he hears the familiar stomp of combat boots, jingle of a chain and hum of a beautiful voice.

Eddie

Steve's heart hammers in his chest and suddenly everything around him fades. Dustin's still talking but Eddie's still humming, he knows it's him without a doubt, occasionally whispering the words to a song Steve only knows because it's one of Eddie's favourites. He's one aisle over but without even seeing Steve knows exactly where Eddie stops and reaches out for a case of Yoohoo with a childish smile on his face. He knows what Eddie does next before the sound of a metal cap snapping clips through the air. He can picture him, an open bottle of Yoohoo in hand, downing half the bottle before he tilts his head to the side and acts as if he's contemplating grabbing another case of six. And Steve knows he does.

A breath shudders from his chest, attention being pulled back to reality by a flick to the arm by Dustin as he hisses, "Act cool, if we're going to make friends with him we have to be cool."

Steve scoffs, looks down at Dustin's shirt, "Yeah, cuz' Weird Al's cool."

"You take that back." Dustin takes offence, a hand to his chest, mock gasp. Theatrics learned from the very man they're trying to win over.

"No." Steve shrugs, inching the cart forward, hoping to bump into Eddie at the end of the aisle.

"Obviously it's cool, Steve." Dustin scoffs, egregious, "Out of the two of us, only one is in a loving relationship and my friend," he pauses apparently for some effect, not knowing his words just crushed a sliver of Steve's heart, "-that one is not you."

Yeah it's not, Steve thinks to himself, Dustin's words kind of hitting him like a dagger to the heart. Yeah it's not. Steve Harrington, single, alone, unloved. Tears sting his eyes and he's all but winded when the handle of his cart jams in his gut with force.

"Shit man, I'm so-" the deep voice Steve's grown to know so well cuts off and he finds himself staring at its source. Silence in his breath, tears in his eyes, he can't bring himself to say anything even as Dustin's finger digs into his side and prompts him to say something, anything, but he can't. "Harrington." Eddie continues, almost breathless, his tone not as venomous as Steve expected it to be and as his eyes search the face of the man he loves, he can't help but notice the blush on his cheeks.

All Steve can manage is a pathetic nod, even as Dustin shoots him a glare.

"Sorry about my friend here," Dustin states, leaning forward to whisper, "he's gotten hit in the head a few too many times and sometimes it shows." Steve would scoff if he had the ability, but currently he doesn't so he lets Dustin take the reins, "Hey you're uh, you're the guy who runs Hellfire at Hawkins High right?"

Oh and to see Eddie's eyes light up, Steve's pretty sure his heart skips a beat or several.

"Yeah kid," Eddie beams, looking between Steve and Dustin before his smile grows wider, "you play?"

"Do I play, he says," Dustin huffs to himself with a smile, puffing his chest out with pride as he continues, "Eddie the Banished, the most diabolical DM on this side of Indiana's state lines, yes I do play and I assure you, I can beat any campaign you throw my way!"

While Dustin continues to boast about his skill and his character that Eddie himself helped create, Steve can't help but remain silent and watch the interaction unfold. Well that's until Eddie speaks and he realises Dustin's mistake.

"H-how'd you know my name?"

Dustin stammers, because yeah, in Eddie's mind they've never met before and there's no logical reason why some random kid grocery shopping with Steve Harrington would know his name.

While Dustin continues to flounder, Steve has no choice but to pull up his bootstraps, "I um," god, he thinks, it's hard to be so close and not be able to hold him, "I told him about you," he scratches the back of his neck, trying so damn hard to look Eddie in the eye without crying, "uh, we had third period English together last year."

"Oh," Eddie blushes further, cheeks darkening, a dimple beginning to dent his pink skin and Steve might melt right into the floor because fuck did he miss that.

With that thankfully Dustin regains some vigour, shooting his hand out to Eddie for a shake, "Dustin Henderson by the way!"

Eddie struggles to pull his eyes from Steve, eventually taking the kid's hand with a smile, formally introducing himself, "Eddie, Munson." His eyes flash to meet Steve's for a moment before his cheeks darken impossibly more, "If you ever wanna join a campaign kid we're always looking for new recruits. Meet Wednesdays at 4pm in the drama room of Hawkins High."

Dustin beams, Steve can see the excitement radiating from the kid, "Yeah?!" He nearly screeches with excitement, "I've got a few friends who play too, can I bring 'em with me?"

"The more the merrier kid." Eddie says as he flashes Steve a smile, forcing a blush to creep across his cheeks.

Dustin punches the air with a triumphant, "Fuck yeah!" Only to be instinctively pinched by Steve and scolded with a hissed, "Language."

—

Eddie's POV

Arriving back at the trailer, Eddie didn't quite know what to think. The burning in his heart for Steve Harrington seemed a little more aggressive than normal. Like yeah, the guy's hot, always has been. There's always been something magnetic about him. Has always been some sort of interest to him but today, at the grocery store, that was something different. He doesn't know how to quite explain it. He didn't feel his usual disdain for the man. It felt diluted, greatly so, like he'd rather smother the man with love than slap him for being equally parts douchey and painfully beautiful.

And that damn kid he had with him. Did Steve Harrington babysit? Babysit nerdy kids with gummy smiles and Weird Al shirts? Was that a fucking thing? Jesus Christ, if that fuckers good with kids that's just another nail in the coffin.

Dropping his groceries to the floor of the kitchen, paper bags and glass jars clambering on the linoleum, Eddie shouts through the trailer, "Uncle Wayne, I'm back!"

Shuffling down the hallway, Wayne appears, an indecipherable expression on his face, "How was grocery shopping kid?"

Had the wind knocked out of me by a beautiful man, Eddie thinks to himself

"Fuckin weird." He says instead, "Literally ran into Steve Harrington and some kid whom I'm assuming he babysits," he shakes his head, disgusted with himself over the fact that he's never really managed to get over the honey eyed jock, "cuz that's just fuckin peachy."

Wayne snorts, digging through the bags of groceries, "Ran into him eh? What, ya ram the poor boy with your cart or somethin'?"

"Yeah actually! And he's still too fuckin' pretty. I'm sure I was blushing like a damn fool." Eddie huffs, crouching down to help his uncle sort through the groceries.

"Oh so you're still in love with the boy?" Wayne asks, eyeing Eddie curiously, watching as he pulls a chunk of hair across his face to cover his blush, "What is it Ed, going on three years of a crush on that boy?"

"N-no. Not in love with the guy! He's just nice to look at, that's all." Eddie says the last words in a hushed tone, avoiding Wayne's knowing gaze while he shoulders past to put his chocolate milk in the fridge.

Whether Eddie wants to admit it or not, Wayne's no stranger to his long term crush on Steve Harrington. Yeah the guy's a douche, but there's always been something about him. Something Wayne would hear about while the other boy was still attending Hawkins High. 'Steve Harrington this, Steve's Harrington that, Steve Harrington's eyes and oh my god Wayne, Steve Harrington's ass in gym shorts, fuck I might actually have to start going to class.'

"Sure, sure boy." Wayne smiles, those past conversations running through his mind, "So, yous saying if the Harrington boy asked you out you'd say no?"

"I'm not dignifying that with an answer, old man." Eddie huffs again, still avoiding his Uncle's eye because that's not even possible, not in this realm of possibilities anyways. Steve Harrington asking Eddie Munson out? Yeah right. Why not dwell on that a little more and let his heart break for the relationship he'll never have.

Boys like Steve Harrington don't like other boys, let alone other boys like Eddie 'The Freak.' They don't like boys who come from the poverty line and broken homes, boys who listen to heavy music and protest society, boys who play fantasy games and reread the Hobbit several times a year.

Boys like Steve Harrington have a future ahead of them. White picket fences, a beautiful wife and a dozen well behaved kids. A job they hate but make enough money to keep them coming back. Expensive vacations and family trips. Looking down on people like Eddie and Wayne, sitting high on their thrones looking pretty as they spit on the peasants down below.

Boys like Eddie Munson are doomed for failure, doomed to fall through the cracks of the very society they hate; to be lost to the world. If not to be hate crimed or killed for who they love, then to fade into nothing, the memories of their past fading in the minds of those that once knew them. Boys like Eddie Munson live in a trailer park and end up in jail more times than they can count.

Boys like Eddie Munson aren't worth wanting.

"Sure, sure." Wayne's words interrupt his internal struggle, "He's a good kid I think. After the whole… uh… earthquake deal he was a big help in the community, fixin' up houses and delivering care packages to old folks and stuff."

"I'm sure he was just a knight in shining armour Wayne," Eddie half shouts, denying the possibility of Steve Harrington being a good guy, sneaking down the hall with a pack of smokes and a bottle of Yoohoo.

—

Steve's home now, ass sat on the couch, staring at a blank TV, liatening to the nothingness around him. He'd managed to bet the groceries put away and Dustin booted out on the Henderson front steps before making it home to wallow.

He's alone as usual, wearing one of Eddie's shirts yet again and trying not to cry. What's new?

But as he's sitting there wallowing in self pity the phone rings, an annoying wail coming from the kitchen. Everything in him wishes it was Eddie calling but he knows it's not. It probably never will be again.

Steve struggles to reach the phone but manages to peel himself off the couch and pick up the receiver just before the last ring.

Steve leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his stomach, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear, "Hello?" He says confused, voice cautious

"Hey Kid." A gruff voice comes from the other end of the line, deep and gravely

"Wayne?" He smiles, can't quite help it now, that man's like the father he never had and well, it helps that he's the only connection to Eddie that he has left, "How's he doing?"

Wayne chuckles from the other end of the line a rustling follows like the phone's shifting or the man's getting comfortable, "He's doing just fine… Listen boy I've only got a few minutes, Ed's over at the neighbours helping Miss Carlson bring in groceries. Just wanted to let you know it sounds like your plan's already workin'. Poor boy was blushin' talking about you when he got home from the store today."

Steve's stomach flips, a rush of hope flooding through his veins, "Was he?" He asks, almost breathless

"He sure was." Wayne says with a hint of a smile in his voice, "You know boy, he ever tell you he's had a nasty crush on you since his sophomore year?"

"No," Steve whispers, out of the months he'd spent with Eddie that hadn't actually come up. There was mention of a previous crush, but never something of such a great length. Maybe he has more of a chance winning his man back than he thought.

"Oops," Wayne huffs a laugh, "Well you ain't heard it from me, but ya know now and apparently," the man drolls with a chuckle, "he thinks you're painfully pretty."

Steve couldn't help but snort in response, that was something Eddie had told him often, 'Steve Harrington, you're so beautiful it hurts,' 'Stevie Sweetheart, you my love are a painfully pretty little thing.'

"Oh and kid,-" Wayne interjects, interrupting his train of thought, "-I forgot to mention, he doesn't remember the day he woke up. Says it's all blurry, thought I was the one who kissed him. Doesn't remember you being there at all. I suppose the drugs they had 'im on play a big part in that."

Thank God. That might make things a bit easier if Eddie doesn't remember him kissing him. Might make Steve out to not be as fucking crazy as it would if Eddie remembered the moment "The Hair" kissed "The Freak."

"Well that's a bit of a relief. Christ, at least he doesn't remember that." Steve chews his lip before sadness creeps back into his tone and he quietly says, "If only he remembered the last year though."

With a matching tone, Wayne sighs, "I know, kid. I- I know ya love him something fierce but there's nothing we can do about that now other than helping you win him over again."

[ibijau]

Fake dating to real Marriage pt6 / On AO3

in which lxc is not at all struggling with feelings for the guy who only fake dated him as revenge against their ex :)

Nie Mingjue arrived while Nie Huaisang was still in the shower, and immediately shoved a little velvet box into Lan Xichen's hand. 

"Hide it well," he said with a wide grin. "If he sees it, it's over."

Lan Xichen nodded and put away the small box, tucked away somewhere he was confident Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have reason to snoop.

“How are things, now that he’s back?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“I’m not sure,” Lan Xichen confessed, glancing toward the bathroom. “It’s almost like normal, but… not quite. It just feels off.”

Things had certainly felt tense when Nie Huaisang had arrived home the previous night, but they had hardly spoken then. After travelling and working so much, Huaisang had barely managed to eat a few biscuits before crashing on the sofa and passing out for twelve hours. In the morning they’d had breakfast together, as they had been doing every day since they'd started living together, but Huaisang had been less chatty, and Xichen less attentive to what little was shared about that week-long adventure with Wei Wuxian, too preoccupied with his plans for the afternoon. Nie Huaisang must have felt something was wrong and he’d started asking who was coming and whether Lan Xichen would really not give him any hints about Nie Mingjue’s big announcement.

It had taken all of Lan Xichen’s self control not to point out that Nie Huaisang was supposed to always guess these things. He hadn’t wanted to risk an argument.

“Can you at least tell me who’s coming?” Nie Huaisang had insisted, trying to sound playful as he spread too much jam on a toast.

“Just the usual. Wangji, Wuxian, Jiang Cheng... not Yanli though. Something came up last minute, but she’s sending Zixuan.”

Nie Huaisang had nodded wisely, and bitten half his toast.

“She’s probably pregnant and getting it checked formally,” he had said. “She’ll want to surprise Zixuan about it, da-ge offered the perfect distraction. That explains why she’s refused to go dress shopping with ChengCheng… she’ll be so pregnant at the wedding if they keep the current date, she’ll need a special dress. And she’ll…” He had paused then and looked at Lan Xichen who had been staring while he explained his theory. “Well, at least it’s one possibility,” Huaisang had quickly muttered, before shoving the rest of his toast in his mouth.

He’d excused himself from the kitchen after that, and found ways to avoid Lan Xichen until the need to get ready gave him a good excuse to lock himself in the bathroom.

“Maybe this is a bad idea after all,” Lan Xichen told Nie Mingjue. “I should just end things and let him get his life back.”

“And let him win?” Nie Mingjue protested. “You can’t let him win!”

Lan Xichen’s lips contorted into a half smile. Huaisang had said pretty much the same thing to convince him to give in to his fake dating plans, some months before. He’d given in then, and he gave in again that day. Mostly out of amusement that the two half brothers really were more alike than people realised, but also because he just wasn't ready to lose Nie Huaisang yet, and everything that could prolong their time together was welcome.

“If this goes wrong, you’ll have to take responsibility,” he warned Mingjue.

“It’s fine, as long as I get his shocked face on camera. I’m going to film it all and replay it to myself next time he tries to predict everything going on in my life.”

Nie Mingjue beamed at the thought, enough so that Lan Xichen found himself laughing, his scruples assuaged once more.

To avoid being overheard by Nie Huaisang if he finished getting ready faster than usual, they dropped the topic of their little joke to instead chat about safer things. They were busy speculating about whether Lan Wangji might soon try again to communicate to Wei Wuxian that he was romantically interested in him, when at last Nie Huaisang left the bathroom.

“Da-ge, you’re here early!” he exclaimed, running to force a hug on his brother who didn’t protest. “And why are you here anyway? Hm? Won’t you tell me? Doesn’t the world's best didi deserve to hear it before everyone else?”

“I’m sure he does,” Nie Mingjue replied, “but I’m also sure Wangji won’t mind waiting to hear it at the same time as everyone else.”

Nie Huaisang stuck out his tong at his brother, and dramatically ended the hug before taking a step back to show off his outfit.

“Can you at least tell me if I’m dressed appropriately?” he asked. “It’s so hard to pick something when I have no idea at all that you’ve been promised a promotion this year, you know?”

Nie Mingjue grinned and after a cursory glance assured him that he looked fine for the occasion, while Lan Xichen…

Lan Xichen stared.

Nie Huaisang was handsome, he knew it well. Even just after waking up he was handsome. Even after pulling an all-nighter, when his eyes were bloodshot and his hands trembled from exhaustion. Nie Huaisang always looked good. But when he put in the effort, when he tied his hair and put on his best clothes, Nie Huaisang was breathtaking. 

He had definitely made an effort that afternoon.

His hair was done in a half ponytail, and he'd put on a hint of make up, some dark eyeliner and a touch of gold at the corner of his eyes. He had put on tight jeans and a dark green tank top under a transparent tulle shirt decorated with colourful birds and flowers. 

Lan Xichen couldn't stop staring. 

If any of this had been real, if Nie Huaisang and him had been in love, Lan Xichen would have cancelled their plans just so he could drag Nie Huaisang in bed and see what he'd look like wearing only that transparent shirt, find out how warm his skin was under, what sort of noise he’d make when…

"Yeah, I'd say Xichen likes it," Nie Mingjue remarked, with the same grin on his face as when he'd given Lan Xichen the ring.

Lan Xichen's face heated up, embarrassed to have been caught staring. It was made worse by the oddly smug grin on Nie Mingjue's face, by the spot of red that had appeared on Nie Huaisang’s cheek. He must have been pleased with having such an effect, nothing more.

Because the universe was not without mercy, the intercom chose that moment to ring, offering Lan Xichen a chance to retreat with some dignity so he could pretend none of that had happened. Jiang Cheng was the first to arrive, because he always was, but Zixuan joined them soon after. Lan Xichen offered them drinks and all five of them chatted for a while, knowing that Wei Wuxian would be late if Lan Wangji dropped by his place to pick him up, and later still if Lan Wangji didn’t. At least that gave Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan a chance to be in each other’s presence without Wei Wuxian, and to Lan Xichen’s surprise they were perfectly civil, though not warm by any means. Planning for a wedding together must have given them the common ground they'd always desperately needed.

It took half an hour for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji to finally arrive, and naturally they showed up together, with an improbable story to explain why Wei Wuxian had been delayed this time. The story was heard and commented on for a while, as always. Then, when that had lost its novelty, everyone started looking expectantly at Nie Mingjue, waiting for him to make his announcement so they could have something to celebrate.

“I’ll go grab some ice cubes,” Lan Xichen announced, and quickly got up.

He went to the kitchen for the sake of keeping the illusion and even opened the freezer, but took nothing from it. Instead he retrieved the little velvet box Nie Mingjue had given him, walked back to the living room and without warning, dropped on one knee in front of Nie Huaisang. 

“Huaisang, I have a question for you,” Lan Xichen said, ignoring the gasps both shocked and excited of their friends. “I know it might seem fast, but… I know this is the right choice. Since the moment we've started dating my life has been changed, all for the better. Our time together is the happiest I’ve ever been, and I don’t want it to end. Will you marry me?”

For a split second, Nie Huaisang's expression turned into something hopeful, his eyes wide and shiny, his cheeks flushed. It looked sincere, for lack of a better word. Lan Xichen couldn't remember when he'd seen such an earnest expression on the other man, but he liked it. To see a crack in Nie Huaisang’s careful mask made him wish once again that this was all real, that they were in love and thinking of marriage, that happiness was something achievable for both of them. 

But Lan Xichen opened the box, and Nie Huaisang saw the ring inside it. He recognised it, of course, and must have understood that it meant none of this was real. Any trace of vulnerability vanished, replaced by an elated smile that would look perfect on the video Nie Mingjue was filming.

“Xichen… of course I will!” Nie Huaisang cried out as he let himself fall into Lan Xichen’s arms with a genuineness so perfectly imitated that it was sure to fool anyone who hadn’t been his accomplice in a con. Even Lan Xichen himself was almost fooled when Nie Huaisang kissed him with more passion than he usually did, but he must have wanted to convince the others that his emotions were genuine.

Once the initial surprise had faded, everyone rushed to congratulate them, and to assure them that they made a great couple, that they were so happy for them. It quickly got awkward for Lan Xichen, though Nie Huaisang soaked up the attention the same way he always did, and looked the perfect picture of happiness.

Nie Huaisang laughed it up when Wei Wuxian remarked he’d never have expected him to be capable of settling down, and he laughed when Nie Mingjue asked if that meant he could start turning his old room into an office now. For someone who was meant to be the butt of the joke, he was holding on better than Lan Xichen, who didn’t quite know what to say when Jiang Cheng asked if they had a date in mind, or when Jin Zixuan suggested they could trade tips and addresses.

"And if you throw a bouquet, aim at Wei Wuxian’s face," Jin Zixuan requested. "If he catches it, maybe your brother will finally have the guts to make a move."

"Some people like to wait for the right moment to confess their feelings," Lan Xichen replied, though he grinned when he saw his brother closely watching Wei Wuxian, as always. "There's nothing wrong with taking your time." 

"Of course you'd say that, in your situation," Jin Zixuan grumbled. “Huaisang and you were just as bad.”

That remark surprised Lan Xichen, but before he what was meant by that, Jin Zixuan's phone buzzed. He urgently isolated himself to take the call. When he returned he was grinning from ear to ear, and announced that he had to leave to go deal with something. 

Maybe Nie Huaisang was right about Jiang Yanli being pregnant. 

Almost right after Jin Zixuan left, Nie Mingjue too had to go when he was asked to go to work to cover someone else’s shift in a pinch. With him gone, the others too started talking of heading home. Lan Xichen half wished he could have convinced at least one of them to stay, just so he wouldn’t find himself alone with Nie Huaisang. But Lan Wangji had apparently just agreed to follow Wei Wuxian on one of his impromptu adventures, and Jiang Cheng explicitly stated he had no interest in being anyone’s third wheel.

When the door closed on the last of their guests, Lan Xichen returned to the living room where Nie Huaisang was waiting. He was lazily picking up everything that needed to be cleaned, but stopped and burst out laughing when Lan Xichen came in.

“Well, you did it!” he said. “You managed to surprise me, congratulations! And I guess you got Da-ge to help, right? I can’t believe you two teamed up against me!”

“I wasn’t sure it’d work,” Lan Xichen replied, a little taken aback that Nie Huaisang was taking things so well. “After all, you always know what everyone is going to do, so I figured you must have expected I’d try something.”

Nie Huaisang laughed again. “I did. I thought you’d just announce we had broken up and let me adjust my acting to that,” he said with a shrug. “It would have made more sense. Something like this… well, that was a good prank, that’s certain! But you didn’t really think about what comes after, eh?”

In fact, Lan Xichen had thought a lot about what might come after. He’d thought, mostly, that Nie Huaisang would be upset about that little joke, angry enough to put an end to this comedy they’d been playing. He’d never agreed to something as involved as a fake engagement, and his behaviour in the past week seemed to indicate he wasn’t inclined to waste time with Lan Xichen anymore.

Lan Xichen had planned for an argument, and maybe the loss of a friendship he’d come to value dearly. It would have hurt, but it might also have helped him get over that ridiculous crush he'd developed lately.

Having prepared for anger, he wasn’t quite sure how to react to Nie Huaisang taking things in stride.

“It’s going to be so hard for you to break up with me now,” Nie Huaisang clarified with a grin. “You looked so emotional, I would totally have fallen for it, if I hadn’t known better! It’s going to be so hard, selling the idea that you just changed your mind!”

Lan Xichen hadn’t thought he’d been particularly emotional in his proposal. He’d kept things simple on purpose and tried to just keep things sincere regarding how he'd felt about their time together. The proposal would probably have felt a little dry without Nie Huaisang’s enthusiastic reaction.

Nie Huaisang, who had looked so hopeful until the moment he’d recognised the ring, and realised it was just a joke.

“Really, we’ll have to be super clever to convince everyone,” Nie Huaisang said. “Well, planning a wedding is stressful, or maybe I can take on more work and you decide you can’t handle my lifestyle after all, or… Xichen-ge, are you even listening?”

“Hm.”

“Then help me out!” Nie Huaisang demanded with a frustrated chuckle. “You’ve put us in this situation, help me figure out how you’ll break up with me!”

“No.”

Nie Huaisang blinked a few times.

“No? What do you mean, no?”

“I mean I don’t want to break up with you,” Lan Xichen said.

He hadn’t lied when he’d proposed. His time with Nie Huaisang had been… unbelievably happy. Not just in contrast to the misery that had been his relationship with Meng Yao toward the end, but even compared to his early days with Meng Yao, or to any other period of his life.

Nie Huaisang made him happy in so many ways and Lan Xichen could not, would not pretend that it wasn’t the case.

He wasn’t sure how to explain it, nor if it mattered that he felt that way. For Nie Huaisang it had never been more than a way to get revenge on Meng Yao, so why should he care that for Lan Xichen it had become so much more?

“Xichen, I’ve already told you why I can’t be the one breaking up,” Nie Huaisang protested, still smiling but without much joy. “It’s too unbelievable. Who would ever believe that I get to date you, and now be engaged to you, and I would choose to throw it away? Please, let’s be realistic here, you’ll have to be the bad guy in this, sorry.”

“Wei Wuxian has been joking since day one that you can’t last in something serious,” Lan Xichen retorted, feeling disappointed that Nie Huaisang only cared who’d be blamed for things ending between them, instead of being curious why Lan Xichen wasn't cooperating. “In fact, everyone keeps being surprised you changed your stance on dating, so they’d probably accept it if you decided relationships aren’t for you after all.”

Caught by surprise by that argument, Nie Huaisang glared, his cheeks quickly turning red. He looked so embarrassed that Lan Xichen almost felt guilty, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d said nothing that wasn’t true.

“It’s different,” Nie Huaisang grumbled, almost pouting as he pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re different. Nobody would believe I’d leave you, trust me. And what does Wei Wuxian know about dating, anyway?” he added, a little more confidently. “Your brother has tried asking him out three times already, and that idiot still thinks they’re just friends who hang out a lot! Wei Wuxian wouldn’t know someone’s in love with them even if they made a public proposal, so his opinion is irrelevant.”

“You may think that, but I think he has a point,” Lan Xichen countered, “and so I won’t break up with you. If you want to get rid of me, do it yourself.”

“Xichen-ge, you can’t start dating again while people think we’re engaged,” Nie Huaisang pointed out as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have you considered that?”

“I’ve considered it. I still don't want to break up with you.”

Hearing this had a greater effect than Lan Xichen had expected. Nie Huaisang’s mouth went slack with surprise, giving him something of a pitiful air that made Lan Xichen’s heart hurt. If they had been truly dating, if Nie Huaisang had been his partner, Lan Xichen couldn’t have borne to see him like that. He’d have pulled him in his arms and kissed him until Nie Huaisang stopped looking so miserable.

Even with things being what they were, the temptation was there.

Without really thinking Lan Xichen took a step closer. If he dared to touch Nie Huaisang, if he could find the courage to tell him that none of this needed to be fake, that he wanted to give things between them the chance to be more than a mere comedy…

But before Lan Xichen could find the right words, Nie Huaisang had recovered from that moment of weakness and was laughing again.

"Xichen-ge, if you're going to be like that, let's at least have some fun with it,” Nie Huaisang suggested with a smile too sharp to look truly amused. “You think I should be the one breaking up. I think it should be you. So…let’s both be trying to push the other to take the plunge! And how's this: whoever breaks up with the other will have to treat the other to a spa day."

"You want to bet on this?"

"I've bet on worse," Nie Huaisang said with a grin that looked even more forced now. “And I always win.”

That was something Lan Xichen was somewhat aware of. Nie Mingjue had warned him a few times against ever betting with his brother. And Lan Wangji had more than once told stories of Wei Wuxian foolishly letting himself bet against Nie Huaisang, which never ended well because neither of them liked losing.  It always got them into improbably situations, until either Wei Wuxian lost or he found ways to render the bet void.

It was true that Nie Huaisang never bet unless victory was certain.

But not so long ago he’d been equally sure that nobody could ever surprise him, hadn’t he? And Lan Xichen, desperate to keep Nie Huaisang close a little longer, even when it was clear that Nie Huaisang was not interested in a romantic relationship, decided that he'd made enough stupid decision to allow himself one more.

“Fine, let’s do this,” Lan Xichen said, holding out his hand. "It'll be interesting, seeing you lose for once."

Nie Huaisang took his hand and shook it, laughing again. 

"You managed to get me this time, but don't get overconfident!" he teasingly scolded. "Wait until you see what I'm capable of. Oh you’ll be getting rid of me so quick!"

It was no small threat, considering what Nie Mingjue had said about what his brother could do when he wanted to get out of something he didn’t like.

But it would be good for Lan Xichen, too. Once he saw how much Nie Huaisang was fighting to get out of their fake relationship, he could stop clinging to a man who didn’t like him.

[sixofravens-reads]

some vague reading goals for 2024:

first, an anti-goal: I won't make any goals about how many books I want to read. I want to get into more of my other hobbies in 2024 which means less reading time, so I can't have the pressure of a numerical goal that demands I spend all my free time reading or feeling bad for not reading. I will probably still use the storygraph reading challenge thing because I like using it to track what I read in the year, but the "goal" I set will be completely arbitrary.

reread a bunch of things! i love rereading but have been so laser-focused on reducing my TBR books the past couple years that I haven't done very much of it.

on that note, a few years ago I had an idea for a blog series called "nostalgia rereads" where I reread a book from my childhood/teen years and compare what I remember of it to my adult experience. I read one (1) book for that and then got distracted, but I have been buying a lot of those older books so I'd like to finally do that series.

start a reread of my Tamora Pierce books (though idk if I can finish it in one year, there are 32 of them now including anthologies, and I don't have my childhood stamina for reading a ton of one author's works at once lol)

read more nonfiction. i have a ton of really interesting books on my library list that i just haven't gotten to.

also, use the library more and buy fewer books (i have an overall goal to spend less money in general). I'd like to buy under 70 books next year (I know that still sounds like a lot, but I bought over 100 this year, so...baby steps)

keep my "books i own and haven't read" shelf to under 30 books so i don't get overwhelmed by it again (currently there's 43 books on it, most of them short, so this isn't a Huge reading goal)

read more translated books. I've got Flights by Olga Tokarczuk and There's No Such Thing as an Easy Job by Kikuko Tsumura on my shelf, and a bunch more on my library list.

stop forgetting about my comics and manga, and try and read more of them consistently instead of buying a bunch and forgetting them (hopefully not having a numerical reading goal or novel-specific goal will help with this, because I always feel like I'm "cheating" when I read comics and count them towards a numerical goal, and that's why I don't pick them up.)

on that note, read (reread?) Death Note, as I got the box set at the comic expo this year (I tried to read this series as a teenager but someone had massacred my library's copies and cut out all the pages with violence, sexy stuff, etc.)

read at least 1 Stephen King and 1 Agatha Christie novel, been meaning to get into those authors for years and somehow haven't done it yet.

start keeping notes on each book (probably on my phone) so it's easier to remember what I thought of them. at the end of the year when I make my top 10 or whatever list, I always have a hard time remembering what my true favourite books were bc I can't reference what I was thinking in the moment.

annnnd resurrect my Librarything account. I will need to do this early in the year, preferably after I finish weeding out all the books I want to get rid of. I only use Librarything to keep tabs on what books I own, what editions, etc, so reviews and such will still be on storygraph. There's a not-insignificant chance that the current housing crisis/skyrocketing rent might make me move back in with my parents for a bit, which means almost all my books will be in boxes and I'll need a digital catalog of some sort.

[pbandjesse]

I just got done my ceramics class. And I have such a nice time. I used almost all of my clay. Literally had like three little teeny tiny pieces the size of a quarter left. I gave them to Sandy because she had a reclaim bag right there and I just feel really nice right now. I am very excited to go home though because I'm so tired.

I didn't sleep well again last night but it's really just because I can't breathe. I wake up in the morning and I can't breathe out of my nose and I just feel so tired. I don't know what I can do to make myself breathe better at night. I'm either too hot or it's too dry. Ridiculous.

So because of that I let myself sleep an extra hour. And I did benefit from that greatly. Wednesdays are great because I can do that. And I just tried to not cry. James left a little bit before I got up for real. They had laid it with me for a little while but honestly I was just not in a good spot and I was just really frustrated.

But they left and I pulled myself together. I got dressed and I felt pretty good. My hair is very dirty and my head is itchy but it looked nice. And I just pulled myself together and I left and I went to work.

I was still thinking about the house a lot. And I I'm still thinking about it now. But I tried to put it out of my head and think about other stuff because focusing on and isn't going to help me much.

So I got to camp and I got to work on fixing some of the things on the schedule. Cuz that is just going to be a project I'm going to continuously tinker with for the next 3 months. I worked on starting to write down the lessons and ideas I have for the new programs that we're trying to develop. It was a good time.

But very quickly I became very bored. They're just wasn't enough for me to do today. But it was also way too cold outside to do anything. On my drive in it started to flurry which was so nice and it was so pretty. But I left my gloves at home and so being outside was too painful. Thankfully I have an extra sweatshirt in the car so I was able to layer later in the day when it got doing colder. But I did not want to be out in the world doing much. I wanted to stay in the office where it was at least warm.

I was very distracted this morning though I was just thinking about the house and I was working on lesson plans and I was playing on my phone and eventually I walked up to the art building and I did put some stuff away and I spray painted a pallet easel box I have that someone had poorly painted. So I would go up there twice to do a couple coats. And then I put away all the stuff that we got from the attic. But then my hands hurt really bad so I went back to the office.

I was so bored that I just was eating all day. Just trying to keep myself awake. I had my lunch early and I just tried to have a nice day because it was very difficult when I was so bored.

Eventually I would go up to arts and crafts and get some of my beating stuff and brought that down to work on just to have something to do.. periodically Heather would have something for me to change your ad on the schedule so I kept fussing with that and working on my lesson plans. And eventually we got an email from Harold about the house.

Apparently the current owner, seller, got a home inspection done in September. I guess in preparation for putting a house in the market. And there are issues. A lot of issues. It's hard though because there are two codes essentially there's orange and there is red. And the orange ones are kind of all over the place. Like some are stuff that is concerning to me and stuff that I'm just like oh well like that's fine. Like for instance some of the orange ones are about the length of the handrails. And then others are about the gutters touching electrical wires. And this has issues. It will need work if we get this one. Some of it bigger than others. But honestly I don't know if it dissuades me from this particular house. I'm going to kind of lean on our realtor on this one and kind of take his advice at this point because any home inspection we get is going to have these problems because we're looking at houses that are old. But even the house is that are old but flipped are not flipped well so they're also going to have issues. So it's really hard to know how much money it's going to take to fix any of these places. And like yesterday I watched a TikTok about someone who just bought a brand new house and it's leaking all over the place and it's just got water coming from every pipe essentially and they've had to replace the entire flooring and so many things have gone wrong. And honestly I think that's probably going to be the case in any place we end up. They're all going to have the potential for catastrophe. And you got to hope that it's not going to happen and be proactive and I think that's one of the things that's nice about the home inspection because now at least we know and we can start attacking those problems. I just need to believe in myself that I wouldn't take on something that I don't think I can handle either by fixing it myself or financially.

But honestly getting that home inspection just made me more stressed because now I don't know what the right answer is. There's so many things I like about this house but I still think I want to see the couple more. I am more secure in what my overall budget is though and what I'm comfortable with taking out lone wise. I don't want to be stupid about it but it is not a buyer's market and I am also being realistic about that. It's really hard to know what the right call is in the end

I just focused on my beating though and tried to finish out the day. Chris would come up from his house to have a meeting with Alexi and me him and Heather talked a little bit. I told him he's going to be leaving a program and he was like haha and I'm like apparently you were supposed to do it beforehand so I'm going to make you do it this year and I think it will be good for everybody. I hope that I can actually make that happen. And I chatted with Heather after he went into his meeting and we talked about enthusiasm and getting people on board with stuff and the things that we hope to do and it was really nice.

Me and Heather were also laughing because earlier in the day I had found someone had posted two of our badges / awards on eBay for like 40 and $50 a piece. that is hilarious. Which one of our people are doing that because that is so funny. What I think happened is something we donated had a patch on it and it ended up in somebody's hands that thought it was worth something and was vintage and put it online. But these things are modern and it was really funny to see.

But it was time for me to go. And annoyingly I wasn't really hungry anymore but I knew that I should eat something where I was not going to make it through my class. I said goodbye to everyone and decided to drive out to cockeysville to go get Taco Bell. But you didn't really make my stomach feel amazing. I accidentally got two different potato products. But it was okay. I ate my car and watched a video and then I went to my class.

And it was a really nice class. We only have one more after this and I'm really glad I took this class but I still don't think I really like throwing on a wheel and if I did a ceramics again I would just want to be a handworking class. They do have other types of classes at the millville and so I'm going to look into those because I think I would still enjoy taking something. Periodically but weekly I think might be a little bit much for me right now. I'm just a little stretched thin.

I started the class by finishing waxing the bottoms of all of my fire pieces to get ready to be dipped. I chose a couple colors I haven't done before and when I have. I am really excited to see how they come out and I really hope they come out well. And then I trimmed the pieces I made last week. I decided I really liked the rough texture so I left a lot of that natural roughness to them and I think that they will come out very interestingly in the end. And then it was time to start working on my Christmas ornaments!

I really like to doing the Christmas ornaments with cookie cutters. I thought I would enjoy the temporary tattoo underglazes more but it just didn't do anything for me. Like I made a couple that I think will be nice gifts but I really enjoyed making the cookie ones and then I wanted to paint them like actual cookies. My favorite ones I made look like the Little Debbie's Christmas tree cakes. And I'm really hoping they come out nice because I just think that they were a really good idea and I am very excited about them.

I still had some clay left so I rolled that out and I cut a whole bunch more cookies and I did drop a wooden tray on the ground of some of them and squished them so I had to start those again. But it was fine. I talked to Lindsey about finishing them next week since I'm going to have stuff to glaze but that's not going to take very long and I want to have something to work on so I have a few pieces that I'm going to let continue to dry in the next week I'll under glaze them and then she said even though the class is over we can come back and do clear dip places on all of our pieces if we need to. Very very nice of her.

I didn't have much clean up because I never turned the wheel on and so I was able to pick up pretty quickly and now I'm on my way home. It's very cold outside and I kept my clay covered sweatshirt on under my jacket. But I'll be home soon and I'm going to wash my hair and try to sleep better tonight. Fingers crossed. Tomorrow me and Sarah are hoping to go up to the art building to do some crafts but we'll see what happens. It's so cold up there I can't really see us being very comfortable doing that but we will see. I just hope it's a good day. And I hope that we get to see some houses tomorrow. Maybe it'll give me a little bit more clarity.

I hope that you all sleep well tonight. Be safe out there. Until next time. Wash your hands.

[buzzkillzine]

15/5/23

I didn't get a chance to write yesterday because I went and saw Regurgitator which was great fun. Drove a couple of hours to the big city to see them (the downside of living outside of a big city is you have to travel there to go to fun stuff) but when we arrived I wasn't sure of the venues policy on bags. So I just took the essentials in my pockets (wallet, phone, keys, earplugs, mints, sanitiser and mask) and went and watched the show. But it made me think about what I carry around all the time in my bag.

So, here is a 'what's in my bag / every day carry / things I haul around every day and then wonder why my bag is always heavy' post.

First of all the main bit of what I carry is my life stuff.

This is a little pouch thing for my pens. This attaches to the cover of my journal, which is only a week old at this point. I like to put a different sticker on the front so I can tell which is the front easily (currently a Resignators Sticker, great band, check em out) and also it gives my brain a rough timeline of what I journal from what sticker was on the front.

I have a travel journal which I'm currently using to put ideas for stuff in. Just little notes, bits, quotes, sentences, story ideas, random words that I like and whatever else. I am using the pens and pecils for that stuff, which get stored inside.

There is then a 2023 diary to attempt to keep myself organised, or at least know what I'm going to be late for.

Then there's the other stuff in the main bit of the bag. Normally whatever books I'm currently reading, my Switch and DS. This is my entertainment. Currently halfway through the Mark Lanegan autobiography, and have Giovannis Room there in case I want to read something else. I normally have multiple books on the go at once because my brain won't let me focus on one thing for too long. I've already been up and down 3 times while trying to write this post.

This is the stuff that's in the two pockets on my bag. Phone charger, headphones, pocket knife (I use it to cut open cardboard boxes at work), a comb that looks like a flick knife (actually very practical because my previous plastic pocket combs get broken and this is a handy way to keep it clean and safe. Plus it has a bottle opener), a mask, some spare pocket notebooks, spare pens, earplugs and some lip balm, paw paw stuff and a Vicks Inhaler. Oh and some mints of some kind.

This is the stuff I carry on me in my pockets. Wallet, keys on a chain cos without the chain I'm always fucking losing them, notebook and pen, watch/fitness tracker and a phone that isn't pictured because it's doing the picturing.

And finally

The bag. This one is from @ironfoxtypewriters It's actually big enough to hold a small portable typewriter and I do use it for that as well. I just leave my switch, ds and books at home so they don't distract me.

So yeah. That's what I carry around all the time.

Hope that's interesting.

[luckyshotwrites]

How long does it takes for you to do literature and do art? How many requests do you have btw?

HOWDY HOWDY, sorry I did not get to this sooner! Currently I have about 15 asks in my ask box that are questions/writing/art requests. xD I USED to be able to keep up on it but my mind has been getting thrown all over the place lately. (I'M WORKING THROUGH ALL OF THEM whether I can answer them well or not!)

Widfali related art and writing content: If it's Widfali related it can sometimes be a while, reason being, I struggle with what to include and when to include it. I have the story done and have had the plots/arcs all done for at least a year or so now. And I've had the world itself compiled together for more than that. It's hard for me to figure out when to post what and where? I have to be selective with dialogue choices and hints that I drop toward the bigger picture. Thus it's fairly difficult to put together these later chapters as they are leading up to other things and we are finally hitting the point of heavy magic, lore, backstories, etc. (ALSO, I have been getting very distracted lately with irl stuff as well as my own mind throwing tons of ideas to me at once. On my server I have a big list of projects I'm working on/trying to complete at some point for Widfali). Widfali art, I'm slowly trying to learn how to do it. I've definitely had some big improvements over the past few months but I still want to get anatomy, composition, and posing right. (Time estimate: 2-4 days (writing), 1-5 days (art)).

Anything else not Widfali?: It's a little complicated. I've been trying not to distract myself too much until I can get into a real groove with Widfali again. At least 3 posts a week. I love to procrastinate. So other projects are on the back burner. I'm trying to work through the ones I have promised to get done, yet I'm realizing I'm very critical when it comes to doing things for others. And I'm driving myself crazy attempting to make everything perfect and I feel terrible if I'm not able to give people the best. It's why I've been avoiding it. I am still working on it all though!

IN ALL, I cannot give time estimates as I'm terrible at it. However, I will get things done. I will get back on track at some point. THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND I HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY! (Nonnegotiable!!)