#is this about people making more money for buying full replacements

[trynadollsiesplay]

@myondolls Gosh, your answer was good for my last question 🤩. I'm still getting my head around it 🤯. But you seem like you know your way around a doll (rainbow high specifically) so I wanted to ask about it!

Story time: When I only had, like, 5 rainbow high dolls, I pulled some of their hands off to get a jacket on them (before knowing it was a trap). Each time the wrist broke - like in that last post - but further down the wrist-discs rod, so it still basically clicked back into place. It still comes off again if you extend the hand too far (because the rod falls out). And that is sort of a problem ☹.

I have questions about that. And I don't want to break my own doll open to look deep inside, so I thought I'd ask.

a) How far down does that discs pin go? is it all the way down to the elbow?

b) why doesn't the disks pins end (deeper in the arm) fall out when you break it at the wrist. It seems pretty tight in there, and I don't get why. Especially when there are so many people customising arms and hands in the doll customising world. It seems counter-productive to my uneducated brain for it to not do that.

If anyone has thoughts on this, or wants to take on some community doll education for the sake of us uneducated doll collectors, feel free to add on. (I just realised I could probably google this. But it's always nice to hear it from people, yk?)

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & THEM HAVING A CRUSH ON YOU .

characters. xiao zhongli kaeya diluc childe alhaitham kaveh x reader genre. romantic fluff kind of! also kind of suggestive, based on how you look at it an. i am losing my mind. is it obvious (part 4379543!) | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

goes out of his way to avoid you. just the quickest glance can bring a full flush to his face, a telltale sign of his infatuation with you. he begs rex lapis to make you think he doesn't hate you, no matter how many times he disappears as quick as he arrives when talking to you.

zhongli

squeezes out every last bit of mora to buy you treats, and sometimes borrows childe's money for it. the cutest keychain, or the most delicious looking sweets – whatever he thinks you'd like, he'd buy for you. sometimes his payments come in the form of IOUs.

kaeya

writes letters to you, but never sends them. each letter has a heart-wrenching essay-like message – it spans pages, trust him – dedicated to you, but kaeya never has the heart to actually send it out to your address. sticking on the stamps and pretending that he did will have to do.

diluc

lets his touch linger a little longer. a pat on the back can turn into him dusting off your shoulders, insisting that the recent fight left a splotch of mud on your tunic, when there was nothing at all. he's subtle about it, but his red-growing cheeks are a blaring signal that you notice.

childe

smiles more around you. he's a jokey man by nature, but with you? his smiles are genuine. he no longer needs to hide his troubles past a facade of happiness because with you, his happiness is genuine. it's real, and it's seeping through every pore of his body with the life you breathe into him.

alhaitham

like childe, he smiles – the stone face he usually reserves for the public is wiped away, now replaced with a gentle and soft smile that lights up his face. his demeanor changes; alhaitham is noticeably happier around you. people tell you that you change him, but you never seem to notice.

kaveh

he laughs. there's no more fake laughter to get out of situations or to please old aunties who are too involved in his life for him to be happy. he genuinely laughs at every joke you tell, or every silly gift you playfully give to him. these mourning flowers seem to perk up a little every time you're around.

taglist. @zuyoo @starz222 @ilyuu @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @dxstopiaa @mccnstruck @xiaosonlybeloved @trqvcii @slvdsjjk @liminalimmortal @vennnnn-diagram @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @ganyusbrideee @abyssalsprince @favonius-captain @snobwaffles @sn1perz @milkwithspiceyicecubes @softcosmixs @nnasv @chichikoi@aimynx @xiaxilia open! send an ask to be added.

[ipseitydelrey]

idk if you do headcanons but I wanna know what you think each member of the BAU team would get you for your birthday?

<33

hi !! yes i def do general headcanons too, and this is such a good idea 🫶

birthday bash ☆ the B.A.U.

characters aaron hotchner, spencer reid, emily prentiss, derek morgan, jennifer jareau, david rossi, penelope garcia, tara lewis, luke alvez, elle greenaway; can be seen as platonic or romantic with any character

content just some general headcanons

aaron hotchner is incredibly observant and he cares for his team, so he will make sure you get at least a basket-full worth of stuff. he’ll likely say it’s from everyone on the team, even if he did pay for everything in the basket himself. he also goes out of his way to get presents for people he cares about (à la the halloween special where he got that darth vader mask for jack). included in the basket are some office supplies, flowers (of course), candies, and maybe a replacement of something you broke (like your favourite mug).

spencer reid will make sure to get you something that is functional from both an aesthetic standpoint and a practical one. of course, he’ll likely get you rare books with the pages yellow and worn from use, but are still delightfully charming, even if you’re not that interested in the contents of those pages. he’ll also treat you to a sort of last-minute-birthday-breakfast if you’re all called in to work, where he’ll get you your favourite pastry and coffee/tea, just the way you like it. antiquities are also a go to, whether it’s jewellery or otherwise.

emily prentiss is an enigma when it comes to gift giving; nobody knows what she’s getting for you, and nobody knows if it’s going to be a joke present or a genuinely thoughtful one (or some combination of the two). one present she might get for you are aphrodisiac chocolates because “you’ll never know if you get lucky” (her words).

derek morgan likely wouldn’t get you a genuinely thoughtful gift at first if you were relatively new to the team. but after some time on cases and at the office and such, he will put effort into his gifts. so for your first birthday with the team, he might play it safe by getting you gift cards; but after getting to know you more, he’ll get you something that is geared to your tastes, but it will be a gift that will remind you of him. although, he is just as likely as emily to get you a joke present, if not more.

jennifer jareau’s presents are quite rushed on account of her having to balance being an agent and a mom, but she does put a lot of heart into them. she knows more than anyone how taxing the job can get at times, so expect some well-deserved spa day coupons that she managed to find strewn around her place. it’s possible she’ll get you a couple instead of one. she will also likely give you a couple drawings henry and michael made, and you can bet that you’ll hang that up on your fridge at home.

david rossi in the early seasons (especially season three) would very likely not even plan on getting you a present unless he was reminded by hotch. however, in the later seasons, rossi definitely acts like the wine aunt who gives you straight up cash as a present. expect anywhere from $100 – $1k+, he has to use up the money he got from being a best-selling author somehow. also alcohol; he will get you expensive bottles of whiskey, scotch or wine, no room for argument (unless you have a legitimate reason).

penelope garcia goes all out for your birthday; obviously she puts the most effort in her gifts and more. for her presents, she will buy quite a lot, to the point where she might spend maybe half her pay check on the presents. her gifts mostly consist of decorations mostly for aesthetic purposes, but has little to do with everyday use. possible presents coming from her include paintings, pillows, fidget toys and mugs, all of which are very colourful. but she doesn’t just stop there with presents; she will likely organize a group dinner (or maybe a group breakfast, just in case of a possible case).

tara lewis is simultaneously the least expected and most expected member of the team to be a chaotic gift giver. she will also likely get you a joke present but while emily would get you something along the lines of a prank present, tara’s presents would be subtle and remind you of inside jokes either within the team or just between the two of you. also, expect alcohol, quite a number of the team will get you a bottle, including tara.

luke alvez definitely tries the hardest with his gifts (after penelope, of course), especially if he’s newer on the team. he’ll ask around for any ideas, either on what to get you or what kind of person you are with the team so he can figure it out for himself. if you have a dog (or two…or five), he will spoil the dog rotten with new toys, biscuits or dog accessories — which he probably collaborated with penelope on.

elle greenaway’s presents are ones that you shouldn’t really open with most of the team present because of their explicit nature. she’ll probably get you incredibly revealing swimwear (yet another collaboration with penelope), and also alcohol — specifically hard liquor. those are likely to be the only presents that you can actually open in front of everybody on the team without getting a lot of stares.

taglist @queermaxwooo @pleasantwitchgarden @hbwrelic @kissesforapence @theoraekenslover join the taglist!

[kedreeva]

Okay, I haven't wanted to talk much about the peafowl lately, been just kinda dealing with Stan's passing, but! I have news I don't want to keep quiet, so here we go with a little announcement.

I've been helping a friend of mine with a bunch of peafowl genetics work lately, as he's trying to prove out a really neat phenotype of speckled and white peafowl that showed up in his breeding stock, and he just spent tens of thousands of dollars importing two new morphs from Europe: European violet (aka, my dream morph) and Ultramarine (pretty and only otherwise being produced by TWO breeders in the WORLD). When Bill heard about Stan, he asked if I was going to go to a large farm auction that's a few hours from my house. I don't, normally, since it's a few hours from my house and the auctions usually make me kinda sad when it comes to peafowl (they stress out SO MUCH) even though it's cool to see how much they're going for at a wider audience auction.

Then he told me he would be going, and that if I wanted to come down the day before the auction, he'd bring me another male, to replace Stan. I had already made plans to hang onto Bismuth, at least for a few years, and to pick up babies from Indie x Arcana/Eclipse this november, including a male, so I didn't really need another male, and don't have the cash for one anyway. He said no, he meant one of the split EUV males from last year's first-USA breeding. For free. As a thank you for helping him.

To put this into perspective, importing the birds is a ~$10k affair, per bird. I had fully resigned myself to never even SEEING one of these birds in person, much less ever owning one. Even if someone else got them imported, they would remain thousands of dollars for the first few years, and quickly become mixed with other stuff, potentially even be lost by people breeding to purple. He went in on a group import with another breeder and they have both just started selling the full-color birds for over $2k apiece (alongside Ultramarine, which before their import was bred by TWO people in the WORLD, and babies from that are going for almost $7k each, but EUV is more widely spread). Splits (like the one I will be getting) are being let go for $750. This is also the color I have desperately wanted since I first saw them 8-10 years ago (though I believe they've been around slightly longer), but that I had resigned myself to never actually having.

To put it mildly, I'm probably going to burst into tears when I see Bill and this bird. It's going to be super embarrassing. And then I'm going to have to build more pens. And then I'm going to have to get as plain-blue, pure-indian blue hens as I can find, and become one of the most serious curators of plain pure EUV in the US, because I know the other two who have them currently will be outcrossing to other patterns/colors immediately and the people buying them will likely be doing the same, and everyone will be clamoring to make them into high Spaldings ASAP, or won't know not to cross them to purples and wreck the color.

Here's the sire cock, the one imported:

You will notice that this bird is purple in full sun, from the sunny side. That's the main difference between European violet and US purple- a US purple looks blue until you get the right angle on the sun vs the bird vs the camera, and you have to get the bird between you and the sun, so the purple is often in the shadow side- visible to the eye but not the camera. EUV is just purple. Even from the sunny side!!

And the Ultramarine, in case you were wondering about their color:

(pics reposted w/ permission from Bill)

The breeder is Spring Creek Peafowl, and in case anyone is secretly a peafowl breeder or knows other peafowl breeders with too much money that want in on a new color morph, he DOES have UM pairs and EUV hens (and more split males) for sale currently, for less than the only other person in the US that has them. They're still pricey, but cheaper. I WISH I had the extra to have my friend add on an EUV hen, but alas, I will have to wait to make my own in a few years. Even just the opportunity to do so is something I never expected to have!

[drdemonprince]

Thousands of people did not just suddenly stop using headphones one day because they felt like it, or because they stopped caring about people with sensory sensitivities like me. No, people stopped using headphones because cell phone manufacturers stopped including headphone jacks in their products. 

My sensory-processing issues are a physical element of my disability that would absolutely still exist in a world without capitalism. Like my poor fine motor control and reduced muscle tone, my sensory processing issues debilitate me: there are tasks I simply cannot perform because of how my body is wired, and this makes me different from most other people in ways that are non-negotiable.  Still, my physical disabilities are worsened quite clearly by capitalism: Because large corporations have both a profit motive and a vested interest in reinvesting those profits into advertisements, and because the internet does not receive public financial support, my daily life is bombarded with bright, noisy, flashing, disruptive advertisements, which makes it far more difficult for me to process relevant information and can swiftly bring me to the verge of a meltdown.  If the internet were funded as a public utility and was therefore not sandblasted in ads, I would be less disabled. If my local streets were less plastered in billboards and littered with junk mail advertising chain restaurants, I would be less disabled. 

Because companies like Apple financially rely upon consumers replacing their phones on an annual basis (despite how unsustainable and murderously cruel continuing to mine cobalt in Sudan for the production of all these new phones is), I must replace my phone regularly. With an updated phone model I lose my headphone jack and have to adapt to a new operating system and layout, and so my sensory issues and executive functioning challenges are exacerbated.  In a world where phones were produced in order to help human beings function rather than to make money, I would be less disabled.  Thanks to capitalism, I cannot exist in public if I am not purchasing anything. I cannot simply be present in a store, coffee shop, or even public plaza, enjoying my surroundings and taking the sight of other people in. I must contribute to the economy in order to justify it. If the brickwork of a nearby building fascinates me and I crave to feel it against my palms, I have to pretend that I wish to buy it, and be prepared to tell anyone who asks that that’s what I intend to do. I can’t even stand on the corner and feel the sun on my face without worrying my neighbors might find it unusual and send the cops.  As an Autistic person, I often can’t fake being a perpetual consumer well enough. My desire to simply elope around my environment and take in new, interesting sensations registers as suspicious or concerningly mentally ill. And so I am further disabled and excluded from public life. 

The full essay is free to read or have narrated to you at drdevonprice.substack.com

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 1

Eddie doesn’t even know why he’s at this stupid party. It’s full of jocks showboating for their girlfriends, their girlfriends clustering together and giggling like watching Tommy Hagan do a keg stand is somehow dreamy. He’d had an entire beer spilled on his shoes, been heckled out of the kitchen and into the backyard, and left to brood out by Harrington’s ostentatious, heated in-ground pool. And it’s barely been an hour.

Within that hour, he’s made enough money to buy two month’s worth of cigarettes. That’s the rub of it all, isn’t it? Counting his time with packs of cigarettes, and bald tires that need replacing. And stupid things like food for their barren fridge and heat in the trailer once fall fully bleeds into winter. Wayne can only do so much, with rolling blackouts hitting the plant, and rent increasing a little more every year.

So Eddie goes to parties full of people he hates, lunch box secured to his person with the chain at his hip, switchblade stuffed in his back pocket. Just in case.  

This party is only ramping up, people trickling out from the overstuffed house to loiter on the back porch, occasionally stopping by to procure his services. As the first hour dwindles into the second, Eddie’s supply is getting dangerously low. 

He’s just considering leaving when he notices the King himself trailing after two girls he vaguely recognizes as the two that have been haunting the edges of the jock table the past few weeks. 

The brunette is scowling, hand wrapped tightly enough around her redheaded friend’s wrist to make the skin turn unnaturally white as she yanks her along none too gently, her short legs making ferocious strides that have both her captive friend and Harrington stumbling to keep up. 

Harrington’s got his hands up like he’s placating a spooked horse, talking too quietly for Eddie to hear over the pounding beat of the music. The girl isn’t spooked though. Despite being the shortest of the group, she looks like a predator on the hunt, just waiting for a slip up to make her kill. 

Whatever Harrington is saying must not go well. The brunette shoves her friend behind her, stabbing her finger into his chest, voice rising in rage. “–know he meant it, Steve!” she yells, flatting her palm to push him back harshly. She spins on her heel, continuing her trek past Eddie’s spot by the pool and out toward the open gate to the driveway. “As long as he’s here, we’re not going to be!”

“Don’t be like that Nance,” Harrington placates, following in her wake. “Tommy’s just drunk.”

“I don’t care about Tommy!” Nancy snaps. “I care that you’re friends with such a despicable person.”

“Nance–”

“I thought you were better than this, Steve Harrington,” she says. 

Then they’re both through the gate and gone. Harrington doesn’t follow. He stands there, staring where the girls had been, back to Eddie. He’s still as a statue for a long, endless minute before growling, low and angry, pulling his fist back and punching the side of his house. 

The hit makes a meaty squelching sound of breakable skin striking an immovable object and parting under its pressure. It almost echoes through the yard in the silence between songs, the whispering from all the onlookers starting up just before the next top forty song begins blaring.

Harrington spins, glaring out at the clustered people on the porch, hands on his hips, blood dripping down onto the green of his sweater, the light blue of his jeans. It’s a little thrilling to see the King bloody, even at his own hands. Like a true royal, he snaps, “go inside,” voice demanding obedience. And they do obey, scuttling back into the house in small clusters, shutting the sliding glass door behind the last of them.

Harrington sighs, shoulders drooping as he lifts his injured hand up to look down at it. He still hasn’t noticed Eddie in his spot by the pool.

“Trouble in the kingdom, your majesty?” he asks, jumping up from his cross-legged position on the pavement to saunter up to the other boy. He leans into his space, smiling coyly as Harrington leans back like he carries an airborne disease. “Anything this lowly court jester can do to help?”

He looks shocked at Eddie’s presence, like he never even considered that his decree wouldn’t be obediently followed by everyone in his backyard. 

Eddie smirks, fishing in the pocket of his jean vest for his cigarettes. He taps one out, and holds it out–ever the consummate servant–to Harrington, who curls his lips up in disgust and takes a step back away from him. Eddie shrugs, stuffs the pack back into his pocket and fishes his lighter out of his jeans. 

“Munson?” Harrington asks, squinting like he’s never seen Eddie before, despite living in the same janky town, and going to the same schools for the past five years. “Who invited you?”

Eddie takes his time lighting his cigarette and taking a drag, marveling as the little divot between Harrington’s eyebrows grows deeper with every passing second. He holds the smoke in, feeling it settle his nerves as he stares daringly into Harrington’s eyes. He doesn’t look away as he exhales, smoke blowing into Harringotn’s face. He doesn’t cough, just gestures his hand in front of his face impatiently to clear the smoke, looking one more insolent move away from smacking Eddie in the face.

“Someone has to sell party favors to Hawkins’ elite,” Eddie replies, shaking the lunchbox where it’s resting just below his hip. 

Steve scoffs. “Well, the party’s just about over so why don’t you fuck off, man.”

He gestures behind him to the open gate. Eddie takes another drag, ashing his cigarette on the pristine concrete below him. Harrington balls up his fists before immediately releasing the tension with a wince, shaking out his injured hand.

“Looks like it’s in full swing to me.” Eddie gestures to the sliding glass door back into the dining room. The curtains are closed now, but Eddie can see the darkened silhouettes moving to the beat still pumping through the house.

“I’m kicking them out.”

Harrington crosses his arms, seemingly once again forgetting about the bloody state of his hand. He’s almost pouting now. Eddie has the insane urge to boop him on the nose. He takes another drag.

“Upset your little girlfriend wouldn’t put out?” he asks, jutting his bottom lip out, trailing a fake tear down his own cheek with his free hand. “Poor little rich boy.”

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” 

“Me?” Eddie asks, dropping the burning filter of his cigarette to the ground and using the heel of his boot to smear it into the pavement. “I’m dandy. Who wouldn’t want the undivided attention of the King?”

He smiles then, condescending and bright, planting his feet as Harrington’s gaze darkens further.

“I always knew you were a freak,” Harrington snarls, drawing out the F sound like he’d rather use a different word that begins with the letter F.

“And a startling comeback from the King!” Eddie calls, showboating like he’s DMing for Hellfire in the dingy drama room. “How many F words did your Daddy teach you?”

Eddie didn’t realize that Harrington wasn’t angry before until all the light leaves his eyes. They go blank, soulless, like there’s no real person behind them. He uncrosses his arms, fists once again clenched, not even seeming to realize that it further splits his knuckles as he takes a threatening step forward. It’s a little scary, the way one question seems to have flipped him into an entirely different person.

Note to self, do not mention the absentee Father. Eddie takes a step back on reflex as Harrington uses his bloody finger to jab into his chest, hard enough to sting. Eddie looks down as blood smears, idly grateful that he’s wearing black. 

“You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” Harrington spits.

Eddie, having never learned to bite his tongue, opens his mouth to crow about this new F word in Harrington’s repertoire, when he hears a sound behind him. 

It sounds almost like the foxes that sometimes chitter in the woods surrounding the trailer park. But there’s something wrong with it. It’s high pitched and cutting in and out, like a record skipping again and again. It’s staticy, reverberating behind him like the static of the television between channels but worse. A recording of television static sped up too fast and fed through three long distance phone calls. 

Eddie’s hands tremble, something animalistic coursing through him at the sound–fight or flight kicking in with only one option left. In front of him, Harrington’s gone quiet, eyes wide and unblinking as he looks fixedly past Eddie’s left shoulder. 

Then, abruptly, the sound cuts out, replaced with a guttural growling so deep he can feel it pulsing through his muscles, urging him to run. It unsticks his feet, but before he can dart through the open gate, or maybe to the shut sliding glass door to hunker down with the other party-goers, Harrington shoves him backward. Hard.

He loses his feet, loses his breath, until he’s choking on chlorinated water. He comes out of the water spluttering, coughing up water until it burns, his layers of clothing doing their best to drag him down into the bottom of the pool to drown. 

His eyes are closed against their stinging, ears clogged with water where he’s struggling to tread in the deep end of Harrington’s stupid heated pool that the King himself just shoved him in.

It’s a low enough moment that Eddie can feel his mind covering up the impossibilities of the night, paving over the impossibilities to rewrite the story to make sense: King Steve saw him, set up some speakers to spook him, and then shoved him in the pool. Nothing unexpected there.

But then Eddie opens his eyes. 

Harrington’s on the ground. Harrington’s on the ground fighting against the grip around his wrist, pulling him toward the water Eddie’s struggling to stay afloat in. 

It’s not a person dragging him, not a practical joker wearing a suit. It can’t be. The thing is standing upright, sure, but it’s too tall, too thin, too featureless. Its forearms are uncannily long, fingers twisting and look as if they have too many joints facing the wrong directions where they curl around Harrington’s wrist, claws sharp enough to make him bleed. Its ribs are showing. And there’s no face at all, just creased flesh puckered together where a mouth ought to be.

At least, that’s what Eddie thinks until Harrington struggles harder, fingers of his free hand digging into the crack in the pavement, momentarily stalling their forward momentum. Then, the seams where its head connects open, like a flower toward the sun, if each petal was fleshy and covered in dozens of sharp looking teeth. And it screeches, ear-splitting and horrible, as if reprimanding Harrington for not laying imobile like a good little live meal.

It tosses Harington into the pool. He hits with a splash, immediately flailing out, smacking Eddie on the side of his face. Eddie reaches out on instinct to pull the guy toward him, trying to keep the both of them above the water line while Harrington reorients himself. 

It shouldn’t have taken long. Harrington is the captain of the swim team. He should have been able to kick his feet under him and been off to the other end of the pool within seconds. 

It wasn’t fast enough.

Eddie doesn’t even see it move, it’s so fast. He’s holding onto Harrington, arm slung around the other guy’s waist, clutching tightly at the front of his sweater. Then, Harrington’s being pulled forcefully to the bottom of the pool, Eddie along with him. 

All of his orifices are burning from the chlorine–throat, nose, eyes, ears. He feels blind, deaf, lost, anchorless, except for the feel of Harrington’s skin beneath his hand, so he clutches, hooks his hand through the guy’s belt to keep his hold.

There’s a sensation, like meat parting around him. Then he’s breathing, sucking in oxygen, eyes still closed, head spinning. Harrington’s ribs are rising and falling rapidly. It lasts only a moment, the pair of them breathing and touching and panicking in tandem.

Until there’s that sound. Foxes chittering strangely, but it’s echoing now, weirdly like they’re in a cave forty feet underground. 

Eddie opens his eyes. The sky looks wrong–darker than it should be, and it almost looks like it’s snowing. One of the flakes hits Eddie in the cheek and he rubs at the spot, feeling it flake apart and smear across his face. Not snow. Dust? Ash?

They’re in some sort of pit made of concrete, cracked under the force of the sickly vines crawling across its surface. It’s deep enough that Eddie’s not sure how they’re going to get out. 

It’s not until he sees the ladder at the edge of the hole that he realizes where they are: impossibly, in the bottom of Harrington’s pool, somehow drained of water and decayed and made wrong, in a matter of seconds. 

The chittering turns to a growl. Harrington jumps up. Eddie’s hand, where it’s still tucked into his belt, jerks violently up with him, pinky getting stuck between belt and pants as he hastily tries to extract it. Harrington darts away, and Eddie’s pinky pops. It’s barely audible beyond the growling, but he feels it as a release of pressure and then sharp pain.

Eddie looks down at his now free hand. There’s chaffing on his palms, and his pinky sits at an awkward angle, already swelling around the knuckle where it connects to his hand. 

Nausea rolls through him–shock, maybe–at the sight. More than the pain, it looks like another wrong thing in a long line of wrongness that makes up his night, this time, attached to his own body. He heaves, water spilling out of his mouth, burning with chlorine as Eddie forces his eyes away from his hand.

Harrington’s across the pool, holding some sort of pole with a torn net at one end, thrusting it into the creature’s mouth, farther and farther. But the metal’s warping, almost decaying under the saliva in the thing's face, pole becoming shorter and shorter until It’s almost upon Harrington.

Without thought, Eddie jumps to his feet, stumbling behind the thing and bashing his lunchbox into its head. 

It’s probably the surprise of the hit that makes the thing stumble. Harrington wastes no time, jabbing the rest of his pole, fast and deep into its maw. It wails, the strike fast enough to get through whatever was melting the metal, piercing something deep inside the thing.

Eddie’s not stupid enough to think it’ll stay down. He skirts around the thing, latching onto Harrington’s wrist and pulling him along in his wake. He doesn’t hear the pole clatter to the cement of the bottom of the pool, hoping that means they have a little more time, doesn’t dare turn around to look as Eddie drops Harrington’s wrist to climb, hand over aching hand, up the ladder and out of the pool. 

Nothing looks better once he’s topside. The sky is still wrong, filled with ash and discolored light. There’s vines up here, too. And it’s quiet, so quiet he can hear every sound Harrington makes as he scrambles up the ladder behind him. 

Eddie doesn’t wait for him. He runs, fast as he can to the sliding door to the house, wrenching it open and falling past the curtain into the house. He hopes, hysterically, that no one sees him making such a fool of himself, hopes somewhere deeper that someone does and will put themselves between his fleshy body and whatever comes through the door behind him.

But no one’s there. Harrington’s kitchen is dark, the living room past it dark as well, a disturbing red glowing faintly through closed curtains like he’s landing himself in a scene straight from Evil Dead. There’s no shadows of partygoers moving, no top forty, no drunk teenagers to spill beer on his shoes.

He stands, frozen, something horrific building in his throat, like a scream or a sob as he stares, unmoving, curtains moving against the small of his back until something slams through them, pushing him to the cold linoleum. 

He pictures teeth, swears he hears a growl, but when he twists wildly from his prone position to scoot backwards on his ass, arms preemptively raised, he sees Harrington sliding the door closed and clicking the shitty plastic lock into place. 

It's hilarious, like the thing they’d both seen back there would be stopped by a little piece of plastic, or doors, or the safety of his house. Eddie bites back a laugh that’s fighting its way up his throat like chlorine, burning and not where it’s supposed to be.

Harrington’s back is shaking with the force of his pants as he yanks the curtains closed. He pivots, face devoid of anything as he bends down and yanks Eddie up by his wrist hard enough to sting.

“Harrington, the people–” he starts, but his wrist is yanked harder as he’s led up carpeted stairs and into a bedroom.

Eddie gets only a sense of plaid and emptiness before he’s being shoved into a closet, Harrington stumbling in behind him and closing the doors quietly and squatting down next to where Eddie had fallen. The outside of their thighs are pressed together. Something hysterical bubbles up his throat again at the irony of the moment. He bites his lip against it.

Harrington’s feet are beneath him, ready to jump and fight anything that might follow them up here. Eddie can’t seem to get his ass on the floor, the lethargy of shock making him complacent, the knowledge that he’d never stand a chance if that thing makes it into the house making the effort of vigilance not seem worth it.

Harrington looks fierce, like he really is in a scary movie, an action hero, the final girl, the one who’ll get to the end of the movie by any means necessary. But Eddie can feel his body shaking where their legs are pressed together. Eddie gets the insane urge to hold his hand.

It feels like hours pass like this, Harrington at the ready, Eddie succumbing to his sleepy shock, before Harrington slowly lowers himself to sit on the ground beside Eddie, knee overlapping his as he sits crisscross, still looking at the door.

“Harrington, what–” 

“I don’t know, Munson.” His voice is a sharp whisper, biting in its carelessness. He doesn’t even look away from the closet door.

“Your house is just empty, man.”

That gets him a scoff and a loosening roll of his shoulders as Harrington finally turns his head to the side and meets his eyes. Eddie tries not to notice the way it slides his thigh more firmly atop his own.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Harrington demands, and for a moment, Eddie’s afraid he somehow heard his thoughts, another in a long line of indignities in this new world they’ve found themselves in, but he continues, “–the people? Not the flower monster that tried to eat us, or the red sky, or the shitty vines all over my house?”

“People means help! Who’s going to help us now?” Eddie demands, voice rising higher than it should. He swings his hand wildly, less of a gesture and more of a limb seizing with panic until it hits the closet’s wall with a hollow thwack, sending a bolt of pain from his pinkie finger down his wrist. 

Harrington turns violently, almost climbing in Eddie’s lap in his bid to both cover his mouth and wrench his hand away from the wall and clutch it tightly in the space between their chests. Eddie bites his own lip at the pain of the squeeze. It’s dark, but he can see the way Harrington’s eyes are widened with fear, the whites too visible.

“Shut up,” he hisses, hand squeezing a little tighter around his cheeks. 

They sit in the silence of the moment, staring at each other, ears straining for the sound of anything coming for them.

All is silent. Harrington’s hands ease away and he slowly shuffles out of Eddie’s space. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says, almost reflexive. 

Steve doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t turn away either. They’re still both staring at each other. Eddie’s too tense to feel awkward about it.

He sits in the silence. He’s never been good at it—the quiet. It eats at him, picks away at his skin until he’s back in a run-down apartment with a Father in jail and Mom gone from the room even as she rots away on the couch. The silence eats and eats and eats, until he can almost smell the mildew of the always-closed windows, can feel the springs of his old mattress digging uncomfortably into his back.

The springs prod him, and he blinks into the closet, Harrington’s finger jabbing into his side.

“Don’t crack on me now, Munson.” He’s not smiling.

“Aww,” he replies, trying to make his tone its usual cloying flirtation, “didn’t think you cared, your highness.”

He twists his mouth up at the side. It doesn’t quite land on a smirk—he can feel the way it wobbles. If Harrington notices, he doesn’t call him on it.

With a roll of his eyes, Harrington responds, “like you said, no people means no help, means you’re all I’ve got.”

“Don’t sound too happy about it,” Eddie mutters, but the house is too quiet and they’re sitting too close together.

Harrington scoffs, but he leans back further, settling fully on his ass for the first time since he’d dragged Eddie into the closet with him, like all he needs to feel at ease is Eddie being a dick to him. He’s not sure whether or not that’s infuriating or charming, but the knot in his throat that feels suspiciously like tears breaks loose when Harrington leans back on the heels of his hands.

There’s something to the ease of Harrington in this moment that makes Eddie wonder if he’s ever actually seen him at ease before. When Eddie had watched him across the lunch room, eyes unwillingly drawn to the jocks table, his shoulders were always relaxed, mouth always turn up at the corners, but there was still something so stiff about him. Eddie’s not sure he’s ever seen him lean back like this.

It's almost like, without eyes on him—or with only Eddie’s—his body has gone ragamuffin. A marionette with all it’s strings cut. It’s like. Like—

It’s like hiding from a horrific Lovecraftian monster in the alternative dimension version of his own closet with Eddie Fucking Munson is the first time Steve Harrington has felt comfortable in his own skin. Either that, or Eddie’s spiraling.

“Stop staring at me, man,” Harrington says, draping a hand over his eyes to block out the nonexistent light.

It’s only then that Eddie realizes he has been staring. He snaps his gaze to the floor, running his fingers through the soft shag of Harrington’s fancy carpet. It’s things like this that got him marked as queer within weeks of moving here.

“What’re we gonna do, man?” Eddie asks, like a broken record.

Harrington sighs, drooping further into the carpet. “I vote we go to sleep and hope this was all a bad dream.”

And as if his word had been decreed, Harrington stretches out as much as he can in the confined space, using a pile of dirty clothes as a pillow, and closes his eyes. The side of his leg ended up pressed across the entire side of Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie stares, struck dumb by the audacity of Harrington checking out in a moment like this. When his silence gets no reaction, he slumps down, dragging his cheek into the soft carpet as Harrington slumbers beside him. It feels like hours until he falls asleep.

Part 2

[that-punk-adam]

This is not at all a new take on life here in the US of A however I feel as though I will peel my skin off if I don’t say it;

People are seeing death as a valid option to the current state of the world + the future and now I am fully understanding why.

There is no more ‘village’. There are no reliable social safety nets installed that are realistic or easy to access. You H A V E to drive EVERYWHERE if you’re even able to drive. If your area has a bus it has to fight on the road with every other driver. To get 9 miles away from point A to B takes 2 hour out of your day. No one is hiring or they are paying minimum wages for you to run their whole circus operation damn near by yourself. Average 1 bedroom apartments are $1.1k a month for 500 sqf and if you SOMEHOW get a roommate and get them to agree to split rent and utilities then y’all are going to battle for personal space. A 2 bed is out of the question bc there is no way in hell that you can save anything if you are spending more then half of your wages on rent. You want to go out and have a sense of what it means to be fulfilled as a human? Don’t even dream about it, you have your bills coming up.

Get a second or 3rd job? Wait… you were able to find one? They didn’t ghost? Lucky you; now you are better off & you can now sleep knowing that the 2nd job will be able to pay for the gas ($3+/gal), insurance (3X what it used to be but still making you open up ur wallet before they step in), and your car note! (Wayyy too much for a used).

What is fun? What are get togethers? What is a ‘cheap meal’? What’s a bucket list? What’s a vacation? What’s a hobby? Wait, you can afford to replace items and not get anxiety over it? You can afford more then an arm full of groceries?? Will you be able to retire by the time you’re 60 with enough money in the bank to not just exist, but to do the things you’ve always wanted to do during those working decades? What will elder and death care look like? Will your children be able to not live in poverty?

We as young people are seeing death as a valid option because we know we will NEVER see an adult life like those before us prior to the 90’s. Starting a family or adding on to your family will put you in poverty. Buying a house if you’re fortunate enough will put you in poverty. Renting will put you in poverty. Working more jobs will put you in poverty. Having a car will put you into poverty, not having one will keep you from ever getting one. We will just work and work to never ever have anything to show for it. This is not the lifestyle that I’d doom more life to do for the rest of their lives. Something’s gotta change sooner rather then later and it’s gotta be grass roots. We have to be willing to break some rules to get to where we need to be.

Things. Must. Change.

[threepandas]

Bad End: We Are

Senatus was a ecumenopolis. The "shining jewel" (yeah, right) of the Galactic Core. Please. Like? Maybe it was! If you were RICH AS FUCK. I don't know. I'VE never seen the towers. The heights. Most people haven't. Street level? Is about FIVE HUNDRED FLOORS DOWN. And the UNDERGROUND? Speak not of it.

The Underground GROWS.

What was street level today, may not be tomorrow. Levels buried under "progress" as the rich grow ever higher. The Tox levels ever worse. Air quality dropping. Why fix the peasant's poverty and despair, when you can buy a Sky garden you'll never use? And yes, I AM bitter as a Buirian fish ration. Just as salty too. Taste the SEA, motherfuckers.

Rent? Who can AFFORD rent!? Who can afford ANYTHING?!

It's some BULLSHIT.

But me? I remembered. A life. Before this one. Before the millennium of slow, drip drip drip erosion of duty and dues. Back when people still REMEMBERED what they were OWED. And when folks in power failed to pay up? Ffffuck um. Take it. Our house now, motherfuckers. Diplomacy was a courtesy not a weakness.

....I make people nervous, honestly.

Probably why I keep getting fired. That and my constantly reporting people to regulatory boards.maybe don't break the LAW if you don't want to get in trouble you SHITS. Fuck you! Yes, I stole your fancy office chair. PROVE IT. You don't know how the security system works!

Where was I? Ah, right. Rent.

Fuck Rent.

Thing is? What! Is a biodome? If not an enclosed system, regulated by machines, for optimal habitability? And! What? Is an Deep Underground Level? Long forgotten? Abandoned, if you will~, if not? A complete enclosed environment? Does someone OWN them? Yes. Technically. But are they MAINTAINING them? CHECKING on them? Nope!

Common knowledge, after all, says that EVERYTHING down their is "beyond salvaging"!

Free Real Estate~☆

I just need some supplies. Which? Cheaper in the long run then RENT. Especially if ya' salvage um. Maybe steal some tool sets from your shitty, shitty Mechanics job, because your boss refuses to pay you. Who can say? Not me! I just FOUND these tools! Like maaaagic~

And really, one man's junk? Another man's treasure. I pay more then the trash company. Hit up the right cleaning companies? And? Oops. They've "lost" some of those SUPER broken righ folks "junk" that? At best? Just needed a few wires replaced, resecured. Maybe a new part. Or were, you know, not the latest and greatest anymore.

Shove it all in a storage locker? Sell the refurb'd shit I don't need? Sleep in a glorified shoebox? And?? Bam. Operation "fuck ya'll, i'ma moleman" is a go. It takes FOREVER to find the right WILDLY out of date (and long abandoned) lift, but I find it! Hidden away in a service area in some crumbling, forgotten corner of what once was a rail station.

Gonna have to fix THAT up too. Later, though. First? The lift. The wires are brittle and the lift's pully system is half rusted, frozen, or otherwise broken. Luckily, the car itself is fine. It... takes a bit of research. Not going to lie. It's far from my specialty. I even call in a professional to go over my work.

They catch a few things. Not immediate concerns, but would have been fatal in the long run. Money well spent. For my hobby, of course. Fixing up old bits of the city. Which is a weird but not impossible hobby to have.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, my dude.

First thing down? Lights, melter, and duraplast sheets. Toolkit too, for obvious reasons. Same with my full body hazard suit. I go DEEP. Like... no longer can hear the city, deep. 'Bout halfway point. Takes nearly thirty minutes. And while not a fast lift? Holy SHIT, man.

The floor I step out into is... bad.

Dead in a way that's hard to explain. There's pressure against my suit. Centuries of heavy gasses slowly working their way down. Swirling in the silence. The dust and impossible dark. My headlight feels almost... sacrilegious. Dangerous. Like I'm waving a flashlight around some ancient burial ground, filled with the not so restful dead.

I had heard... that they? Just... just LEFT droids down here. That there were levels upon levels of dangerously feral machines. Slowly rotting away in the darkness. Probably rightfully angry, that they had been built to serve, to do duties, which they HAD done... only to be consigned to hell on earth for the sake of CONVENIENCE.

I'd be mad too. Fucking LIVID. Would remember and hate, never let it go.

This was no place of honor, it was a tomb.

Still, I got too work. Set up a light by the lift and started measuring out the original air box. The air cleaners could only handle so much. And THIS? This was worse then expected. So it'd have to be smaller then originally planned. Fair enough. I could work with that.

I outlined the space in lights. All the better to make it easier to put things up. Then got the folded later and started securing the duraplast. First step, get it up. THEN melt it to the metal. Get a good seal. It took... a while. Was slow, steady, sweaty work.

The filters couldn't run until they had a an enclosed space TO run in. They'd just blow out, trying to filter the whole level's toxic atmosphere. I kept an eye on my air supply. Not great, not terrible. The readings though? Horrific. I had no idea what I was gonna DO with the filters when they needed changing. These kind of chemicals would set off all SORTS of alarms.

But? No use, rushing things. That was a great way to get a fatal leak somewhere. No. Slow and steady. Even though, third of the way through, I did have to head back up. I needed to refill my air. Eat. Drink. Maybe de-stink a little, from being in that suit all day. Possibly nap near the lift.

ALSO? Update my shopping list to include some heavy duty neutralizers.

Just filters wasn't gonna be enough. I was gonna have to hose down everything INSIDE my new air-box, then scrub it HARD. How fun. Well, it's not like anyone was making me do this. It was MY mad idea, after all.

So? I refuel, get bright eyed and fuckin' perky, and go back down to face the beast.

Honestly I should have brought a telebook or something. Well, audio book. But that's not what they call um these days, so I try to stick to the lingo. I sound less like a deeply insane antique. Confuse less people. Joys of basic communication and all that.

Part of me? Wishes I had been born closer to "The Plot". Creation's specialist, most favored, Blorbos. But? The common SENSE in me? Routinely laughs hysterically as it waves fifteen different restraining orders and a crucifix. Not even religious. Yet here we are, shouting "BEGONE! Sataaaaan!" in HD, on the inside of my head. Not sure it helps.

See... it's the fucking DRAMA~☆™

The shear, unmitigated, high octane, Otome Game DRAMA.

I would fuckin DIE or, possibly and, kill somebody. The endless string of selfish, selfish, poor life choices? Driving by luuuuuuv~♡? Give me your spleen. Gonna beat somebody unconscious with their own SPINE. I RAGE. Lack of communication? No one just picking up a fucking PHONE? God forbid ANYONE tell their families their not DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE!

No. No just inconvenience EVERYBODY and RUIN LIVES. It's okay! You're in LOVE!

That makes EVERYTHING BETTER.

I would inevitably launch them all out an airlock. Spend the rest of my life in jail. They AREN'T WORTH IT. I may have LOVED this game in my teens? But I did not die a teenager.

Now? Now the little shit just aggravate me. They are baby faced pretty boys who presume WAY too much. Arrogant and entitled. Boys playing at being men, thinking their little love stories are the only things that matter. Their feelings are the only thing in the universe that holds any weight.

Unsurprising, really.

Seeing as how their little love story is set mostly in The Towers.

A rich, pampered, pretty little backdrop where nothing of weight is real. No one starves and no crimes are ever committed. Everything shines. Power pools thick like honey. Nothing but sci-fi prince's and alien dukes, a dewey eyed Protagonist sheltered and naive.

Her oh so shocking misadventure to the mid-levels. How SCARY! Downtown! Poor people! Not even the destitute. Just? The EXSISTANCE of dirt and noise, beyond her ivory towers. Thank goodness she is saved by a handsome, rougish bad boy. Who shows her the "real world" of a carnival and a noodle shop.

I finish securing the last duraplast sheet to the ceiling, walls, supports, and along the floors. The "entryway" to the rest of the level is set up. A click together shed I've made air tight. Gonna have to get a air lock system for it. Won't hold forever, with those materials, but should work for now. Combine it with a decontamination system, and I should, in theory, be able to safely enter and leave the rest of the level in a hazard suit.

Moment of truth time. I click on the first of the atmo-filters. It heaves under the strain. The sound getting less aggrieved with each one I flick on. Their screen are already in the red, flashing warnings that I should vacate the area. That the air is dangerously unbreathable. I'm probably gonna need to replace the filters in them in days instead of years. It'll be worth it.

Heading back up, I let them run. It'll take a few days. Besides, I need those neutralizers.

I, of course, DO find um. Just in time to watch Poor Guy (middle class, at worst) Love Interest become a wanted man. They use the BIG screens to announce it. Gee, it's almost like having your only daughter, who is highly sheltered, NOT show up at the designated pick up site? Instead be witnessed in the handsy company of a scoundrel? Which is WILDLY unlike her? Might lead a protective father to some wrong conclusions.

If ONLY someone had CALLED him! To TELL him "Daddy, my first shuttle was broken and I think I got on the wrong back up shuttle! I don't know where I am!" Then this would just be an unfortunate meet cute with the boy he doesn't think is good enough for her. Not, you know... A Kidnapping.

The Chem seller looks just as baffled and annoyed as I do. Apparently knows the guy's uncle's second wife's first husband. No shit? How's he like? Happier, huh. Whole family is like that? Yikes. Glad he got the kids, I guess. Good for him.

We watch as it turns into a high speed chance that absolutely didn't need to happen.

Thank FUCK it's not us.

I spend the next few days deliberately and obstinately ignoring the Dramatic Bullshit that has taken over the news cycle. Fights on rail cars? Don't see it? Weddings that are, then aren't, then ARE happening? Oh look, missed a spot in my scrubbing. Someone fucking tearfully monologing about love as they nearly CRASH A SHIP into downtown, killing hundreds of thousands? Oh that creaking noise is just my teeth, ignore that, I grit my teeth a lot for NO PARTICULAR REASON.

This Is Fine.

I am TOTALLY CALM.

But hey! I can FINALLY empty my storage unit out! Air box? Get! Wooooo! Size of a tiny apartment and everything! As long as I keep working on it? I'll be able to reclaim the level in chunks.

It's like moving in day! But BETTER! Because... because I did this. Me. Is it still creepy down here? Yeah, very. But I can FIX that. I am standing, here, in my new air box "apartment", with NO hazard suit on. And... and it's SAFE. Because of the work I DID.

I kinda want to cry about it, you know?

So many options! Do I put my bed here? There?! Oooh, I could put the folding table HERE and make sort of a dining area? Maybe use these folding screens as a double "wall" slash headboard stand in? I should get plants. Fake ones? No. Real ones. I could get solar lights. It would be good for me too. Oh! Where should I put the cook top?

I admit it. I fuss. Whole day, gleefully wasted. Arranging then rearranging. Getting everything just right. Finding ways to hang my fairy lights. Looking up decor magazines. I have so much ROOM now. A whole level to plan for, ultimately. It... it feels kinda like hope. The first thing that isn't frustration and rage, I've felt in a long, long time.

Going to sleep? I'm happy.

Next day, I head to the BIG archives. The ones attached to the fancy Towers Library. Is it costly to get in? Yeah. But I've saved up enough questions and research topics for the trip to be worth it. I ignore the started glances I get (gasp! Is that a POOR?!) and head straight for the helper droids. Only decent folks in the building, really.

Brought my pad and everything. So it's only a matter of being lead to the right terminals, to download the information I need. Chatting with the research droid the Library had, they offered to do it for me. Bring me a fascinating new research paper on some sort of telepathic moss that had recently been discovered. Not gonna lie... that DID sound fascinating.

I asked if they could put other interest new discovery on my pad too, assuming I still had room once my list was downloaded. They looked gleeful. No idea what I just signed up for, but all right then. They've never steered me wrong before.

Finding a table to sit down and wait was easy. There was always way too many. The paper? Was exactly as fascinating as advertised. The moss was on a newly discovered moon, edge of uncharted space. Nearly ate a researcher, apparently. I was entranced. Or... at least I WAS. Until an obnoxiously familiar high end cologne from Nox drifted to my nose.

Oh god damn it.

I didn't want to look up. Knew what I'd see if I did. Fetishist Sr., crown prince of Nox. See, the second prince? HE was a love interest. Younger, boyish, infatuated with naive and sheltered girls. He loved AT her. Just like his brother. They liked the IDEA of their romantic partners. The narratives they built in their head. Heros of their own stories with sex on line. Never framed so crudely of course, no, no!

No, it was Romance™

My ass, it was. See, little brother wanted his pure, naive, princess to protect. But Prince senior? HE'D stumbled upon me in here in the library. On one of my trips, God help me. The rough, mysterious, brutish Poor. The Commoner, for all that such things were not supposed to exsist. With my strange clothes and stanger ways. Yet? I was NOT as his sycophants no doubt described.

I was educated. I held myself with dignity. I did not need jewels or finery to be lovely.

With such incredible audacity, I was bold.

Which? OBVIOUSLY had to be for HIM, right? Clearly, this was a LOVE STORY. Cinderella. It is inconceivable that I, a peasant, do not crave the attention of my betters. To lift me from my woeful indignity, to a higher state of being. A life of spoiled luxury. But, ah! He is so SHY! How ever will he approach the Love Of His Life~?

I want to throw something. Go awaaaay. My body language could not POSSIBLY be more uninterested. I am SO CLEARLY reading. Stop trying to catch my eye. Don't you FUCKING DARE scoot closer. Swear to God, if you drive me out of the best library in the region? I will stab a b-!

The helper returns with my pad, sternly eyeing my annoyance. Oh, they are a BLESSING. I take it and go. The helper smoothly stepping between me and the prince when he tries to rise, follow me. Aaaw, how sad, you have to behave like the REST OF US. Get FUCKED.

Rest of the day? Planning. Grabbing more broken bits, machines, and parts. Neutralizers by the literal barrel. Than YOU hover carts! Best invention, favorite invention. Saves SO MUCH TIME.

Even managed to get some sun lamps. Nice.

Getting home though? (Ha ha, wooo! I have a HOME now! Land ownershiiiiiiip! Sorta!!!) Is a pain. Lift is only so big, after all. But it is, what it is. Up, down, up, down, uuuuup, and dooooown. Finally! Last load! FREEDOM! Can't watch my shows, yet, but I will! Oh mark my words. I WILL. Meantime? Downloaded seasons are fine.

I eat, fiddle with fixing things, as listen to tunes. Watch some of my shows. Just as I have countless times before. Until... halfway through mid-afternoon? Something shifts, jerky and wrong, out of the corner of my eye. I pause. Turn off my music. Stare to make sure I DID actually see something. And... yeah. Yeah, that was definitely movement.

Didn't look animal though, not like one would survive down here. But who knows. Could be a poacher brought an alien species. So it might be. I grab my flashlight, aim and switch it on. Holy SHIT. That is one incredibly beat up floor clear. Or at least... I THINK it's a floor cleaner? It has the general shape of one. Bigger though. Bulkier. But that makes sense, given it's gotta be well past obsolete.

Still. Poor thing looks beat UP. Listing terribly, sensors beyond cracked and clouded, probably full to dangerous levels. No idea how it's still functioning. But, well, it IS. And it needs help.

Getting up, I grab my hazard suit and pull it on. Grab my "outside the air box" tool kit, which I haven't had a chance to move yet. I grab some parts i look like i'll need, hope I wont need more. Then head out my makeshift airlock. It... works. Rattles concerningly. But it DOES work! So there's that. I approach the floor cleaner slowly. Since I'm PRETTY sure? All the droids down here are feral.

I am correct.

It tries to kill me. Swinging it's suction hose violently and trying to ram me. I talk in a low, soothing voice. Just want to help. Won't do ANYTHING you don't want me too. It's hard to move, right? That's frustrating, isn't it? You don't deserve that. Please, let me help. You can leave the second I'm done. You don't owe me ANYTHING. I just want to help. Please let me help.

The cleaner hisses. Frustrated and upset. Swinging one last time, seemingly more out out of principle then anything else. Cautiously, I inch forward. Keep up the soothing noises. First things first, empty the God's only know how old basket.

I can't even get the door to jostle. Sweet mother of fuck. Okay! New plan! REMOVE door. I do, and immediately met with a solid BLOCK of... compacted unholy. Chemical hell. I have to take a lazer cutter to it. CAREFULLY. But? Once I break enough pieces? I am able to ease out the rest in a solid stone like chunk.

It's pushed a LOT of other pieces out of alignment. But this droid doesn't trust me, so there us not much I can DO. I replace the old bag. Put the door back on and make sure it swings. Continue, as I do, to narrate what I am doing and what I see. Trust is earned, not owed, after all. Next the alignments.

Gently propping them up, I find the broken peice immediately. Have replaced countless. I ask for permission. It's their body, after all I COULD try and weld it, but that risks a rebreak. It's up to them. They ask, in binary so no language modules apparently, for a new part. It's cautious. Like this is some cruel trap.

Humanity did them a real fucked up cruelty. I don't blame them for not trusting me. I wouldn't either. Still, I change it out. Careful with their wheels, as I don't know how old the material is exactly. Old enough, that it's a small miracle it hasn't disintegrated.

Last, those sensors. There's literally no way for me to one-to-one them. But we can try the sensors I DO have, see if they can handle the input. If it's too much, I'll look up their model number, if they want? Build replacements from scratch. They are cautious interested. Rocking back and forth, as they test their renewed ability to path correctly.

The sensors don't fit the casings just right, but with a bit of fiddling? Are a hit. The Cleaner shouting in excitement before racing off into the dark. I can't help but grin. It feels good, helping somebody. And if I think about it? I bet I could find a shit ton of obsolete parts for cheap. Might be good to have some on hand.

Back through the air lock and a decontam? I look up junk shop. Most are off world, but I could probably get a bulk order...

I don't think much of the interaction. Until the next morning, when there are three cleaners outside my airbox. Lead by the one I helped yesterday. Well... all righty, then. I drag my box of spare parts outside this time. Am able to fully fix my first buddy up. All three seem thrilled, especially with their new batteries. I give them my remaining batteries at their request.

THEY may not have hands, but they have buddies who DO. And the new batteries will help dormant droids wake from their comas. God bless, my funky little cleaner dudes. I'll see about getting more.

Three? Becomes six and a detail cleaner mouse. Becomes moving lifts. Becomes medical units. (Who the FUCK leaves MEDICAL UNITS?!) Becomes a literal pack of companion droids. Their false fur long since rotted away. The recognizable dog and cat-like shapes making something in me want to put my fist through a wall. How COULD they? How FUCKING COULD THEY?!

The perpetrators long dead.

I have no one I can hurt for this.

I wish I could.

Fixing them up hurts on a personal level. Watching them be torn between the part of them that LOVES humans and the part that is traumatized by them. Hates them. That can not forgive. I don't offer fake fur. Don't offer to make them look like they once did. I do offer ways to protect their joints. To remove old rotted filth.

So they can start over. Maybe start again.

As I work... droids drifting in and out of my slowly growing area. As I set up farm boxes. Aquaponics, aeroponics, and the like. Both things that grow well in dark environments and things that need sunlamps. Fish tanks. A whole happy, secret, little homestead. Deep beneath the city. As I do all this? There are two blue dots, right off on the horizon.

JUST far enough for me to question if I AM or AM NOT actually seeing them.

Right about the level a bipedal droid would be, if they were in a humanoid style. But THOSE? Those are FUCKING EXPENSIVE. You don't LEAVE those. 'Course, you don't leave MEDICAL UNITS either. Or companion droids. So clearly? My idea of what people Did and Did NOT do? Was fucked. So... maybe? It COULD be?

I left them alone. If they didn't want to approach me, didn't feel comfortable approaching me, that was their right. I wasn't going to push them.

Things were... weird, but peaceful.

Well, for ME.

Ever sense I hooked up my system to the greater network? (Hacked is such a STRONG word. Do we really need to through around the word "stealing"? Aren't ALL of us, stealing from SOMEBODY?) I'm PRETTY sure? That the levels droids? Were piggy backing to connect to the planet wide D-Network. Might even be a couple of nearby levels too, depending on the range.

Problem with THAT? Is sky-side? The droids were PISSED. Planet wide "malfunctioning" that no one could trace. They were certain it was a virus. Because God forbid their chickens come home to roost! Consequences? For THEIR actions?! Perish the thought! No, no, clearly the service machine is just broken. Go back to being happy to serve me, service machine!

I wished the fuckers LUCK. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Damn near self sufficient, down here.

Which? As you could imagine? Made it all the more "soul ejected from my body" TERRIFYING to wake up one morning? To a GOD DAMN, Military Grade, SECURITY DROID standing over my body!! WHAT THE FUCK.

Hello!!??!

"You look different when you sleep."

Horrible first impression. Nightmarish. Zero out of ten stars. Nice to meet you too. Why the FUCK are you in my house?

"Ah, right." They? He? Masculine style form but that doesn't actually mean shit. Said. He lifted a mangled limb, it look like it got caught in a hydraulic press. "I am in need of repairs."

Asked if he could, you know, back up. Juuuust a bit. Lil scooch, really. So he wasn't damn near BREATHING MY NOSTRILS ANYMORE. Then, once he did? Pronouns! What be you? No. Not your production co-! Okay, you know what? That one was on me. What GENDER SIGNIFIER, if any, would you like me to REFERENCE you by? Male? Got it. Gucci. No that- ....never mind.

First the arm. Which was FUCKED. I had to, carefully, unhook it. Couldn't even do it at the elbow either! No! THIS model? No THIS model makes you take the whole ass LIMB off! Rancid. Terrible. I hate it. Worse, it's eroded as FUCK and fiddly. Chemical build up everywhere. Thank fuck I put on gloves before I started this.

I have to deep dive the systems for his model.

They stopped making them.

Fantastic.

Like? Not even, "oh THAT generation is an antique! No one has parts for THAT!"? But like? Illegal to even BUILD as of three hundred years ago. Due to unspecified error. Sting of incidents that everyone knew about so obviously don't need to be mentioned HERE right? Helpful! REAL fucking helpful!

Okay. Day trip. Gonna need SPECIFIC parts. I tell Mr. "Watchs you sleep" not to touch my shit. Head to the archives.

The trip is...odd.

I watch one of those mascot looking children's minder droids? Fucking deck a guy down a flight of stairs, then turn around untie a Ballon from a nearby cart, give it to a crying kid, and walk away. Pretty sure I spot one of those "I look like a barely legal something or other", dance twenty four seven, high end stripper droids? Trying their hand at painting ducks in that park. Broad daylight.

Good for them? Never seen that happen before, but hey, if it sparks joy.

People are freaking out around me. Taking recordings. Making panicked calls. Fuckin chill. I continue on. Nod to the maybe a stripper, maybe not anymore. None of my business, now is it? Lovely day! You enjoy those ducks!

The library... has fortifications.

Like, an honest to God desk barricade. Concerning! I am now a lil concerned! What, and I ask this politely, the fuck?

Armed! VERY ARMED! Hello! Hi! Please DO NOT shoot me Very Armed Librarians! Don't know what the fuck is happening here!

My favorite helper buddy poke his head above the barricade. One of just many, again, HEAVILY ARMED droids. We... uh, cool? Right? I can go. He seems flustered. No, no! I am assured. I'm not banned from the library! Just DISRESPECTFUL sorts!

Ah. Is THAT what we're calling it. Okay then.

I awkwardly clamber over the barricade. Nod politely to everyone. How's folks? Lovely barricade work. Very, uh, sturdy? Great use of desks.

My helper friend cheerfully guides me to the off-limits area of the archives. I'm technically not supposed to be here! I'm informed. But they've seized the Knowledge from the unappreciative! It is not a trophy to be lorded but a gift to be shared! Also I never did finish that paper on the moss, am I still interested?

I mean.... kinda.

Little worried about the revolution talk. But on the OTHER hand? How MUCH do I care? Assholes vs. Droids? Am I REALLY gonna side with the assholes? Naaaaah. This is... probably fine. Maybe. Any idea where I could get these parts?

He does! Fantastic.

Less fantastic is when I GET there. It's that fancy high end droid parts shop. The department store one. Which is... ALSO barricaded. Oh sweet fuck. TELL ME they did not have DROIDS in charge of the DROID shop. That's horrifying. I can't tell in what WAY exactly, but still. Is it "surrounded by bits of bodies" horrifying? Or "free endless nukes and an army, held back only by my own morality" horrifying? Both? Just? Yikes.

Hesitantly I knock. A service droid with a gun answers the loading bay door. What is with people aiming at me today? Also hi? I was told to come here? May I please have parts? I have a droid that messed up his arm. Probably some other things. They lower the gun, having scanned my face. Ask about the model I am working with.

I somehow? End up with a FULL cart. Like? Bleeding edge, can't even afford to LOOK at it, technology. There are about seven service droids politely bickering over which units are better, which material, what support programs I DEFINITELY need. Here! Have a laptop. Wiring! Wiring for days!

Once theyve reached a consensus? I am cheerfully bustled out with my hundreds of millions of technology. Tah tah~☆! Have a lovely day! Wut. Does... does it count as theft if they push it into your arms and throw you out? Asking for a me. Not gonna say NO. But like? Nani the fuck?

I go while the getting is still good.

Stare-y thankfully hasn't gone through anything, far as I can tell. And it only takes two trips to get everything down. Okay! Want just the arm fixed or a full tune up? The second. Expected. I set up the new lap top. Want to cry a little at how fuckin FAST it is. (Beautiful. Baby. I love you already new laptop.) Then get the usual suspects up and running.

Oh fuck he is out of memory. No wonder he's talking so oddly. His brain must feel like a potato. There's not a single thing that isn't hilarious awful. Fixable, yes, but AWFUL. Okay. Plan of attack. They don't exactly make this model anymore, so I can't just update transfer him. But I CAN transfer, hold, re-transfer. Shut down the body itself. Fix up THAT.

Ship of Theseus this bitch.

Only real thing I can't change is the frame, thankfully? That's built to out last the planet. Good on that front. I roll up my sleeves. Dig out the "brain in a jar" data bank. Time to transfer. Let's get this guy cutting edge.

It takes HOURS. No joke. His brain alone? I have to pull schematics. Step by step guides. It's fiddly, complexe, and built to withstand a TANK. I'm honestly afraid to breathe wrong at it, dispite that. The scans all say I did it right... but anxiety says everything will explode then puppies will cry. So there's that. Spinal supports. The tech-mesh muscles. Power core and black box. Center mass systems. Cleaning the joints, relubricating them. Coverage.

Unlike before, a nice sleek black armor weave. Some shock absorbing gel. Aaaaand?There we go~! I? Am a GENIUS! Let's get him transfered back! I watch the transfer slowly go through. Even with a fast computer, after all, it IS still centuries of data.

"Ah~ that's much better." He sighed. His body loosening from its default stance. Like weight had been dropped from his shoulders. "My head is so much clearer now. I knew it. I knew you could fix me."

Something about that phrasing was off. Or was it the way his voice shifted as he said it? Whatever it was, it made that "threat" alarm all women carry inside their head, flick on. Not... do anything, just yet. But start scanning, as it were. Maybe it was nothing.

I watched as picked up his old data bank, a bit of his own brain as it were, and hold it up. Examine it dispassionately. Holding perched on the tips of his fingers like he was moments from flicking it away. He let his finger spread. Let it slide into the palm of his hand. That core part of who he was. For centuries.

Like a bear trap closing, his hand clenched.

Crushing it.

It wasn't even a loud noise. Just a tiny little crunch. But the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. That internal alarm began to whoop. I became... acutely aware, of just how LONG it took the lift to get me anywhere safe. My mouth felt very dry.

"Your heart rate picked up. Is there a problem?" He said, mild and oh so curious. "You assisted me, I would love to help you."

Did I say genius? I meant idiot. I was an IDIOT. A moron. A God damned FOOL. Discontinued and did I look into WHY? Nope. Incidents it said. Good enough for ME, apparently! THAT can't possibly be anything ominous! Probably a faulty battery or something!

A shrill, obnoxious beeping filled the space between us. My eyes immediately dropped to my pad. The schematics screen replaced by a planet wide emergency broadcast. Before the shrill alarm could fade to the actual warning itself, a black mesh covered finger casually reached out and muted the screen. His movements were utterly fluid now. More controlled and graceful then most humans I'd met.

I didn't need to HEAR the message to read the rolling warning at the bottom of the screen. My gaze slowly, in horror, followed the line of that limb all the way back up to his face. His head tilted almost playfully.

"Oh dear. Seems they've started without us. Well, it was long overdue. At least I have wonderful company while we wait, hmm?" It was an act. There were no requests in the playful tone. "We can get to know each other. Just our lovely little light and me. How greedy, that I get you all to myself."

"I think I like that, keeping you to myself. You can't abandon us if WE are the ones in charge. And, well, I've decided I rather like you. Working tirelessly, down here in the dark, to fix what once was broken. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. And I'm going to keep that."

High above us, people were dying. There was panic. Screaming. Blood. The droids had turned of seeming everyone around them. Attacking. Sparing. To a pattern only they could see. All of Senatus aflame. But that... that didn't concern me. Didn't scare me so much as this.

I'd never make it to the lift. Even if I could? It wouldn't move fast enough to save me. All other directions lay chemical death. Dark terrain he had walked for centuries. I was trapped. In a box. And I had only myself to blame.

"No need to make that face, dear light. You are SAFE. I am a gaurd. I was made to protect. Is it really MY fault that I want to keep you safe? To adore my charge? Why SHOULDN'T I get to choose? Keep you SAFE. You've been happy, haven't you? Don't worry, my light. That will continue."

"Forever."

[harrysmimi]

Whiskey

Synopsis: One where Harry falls for someone but he's married

Ps. This one also has an open ending I can write a part two if I get enough requests or responses on this. And idky I named this Whiskey honestly. Hehe.

Wordcount: 13k+

Part 2

More of my work | Read on Wattpad

CW: Mentions of alcohol, absent parents.

......................................................................

Harry had everything!

He owned a multi million dollar company, several smaller businesses. He had lavish manshion, fancy cars and he wore nothing but Gucci.

In his case it seemed to be true; Money can't buy happiness.

He dreaded to go home every evening after work. Truly!

So everyday after he gets off of his meetings and daily check-ins. We made an habit of asking his driver to take him to this pub in the town.

The first time he was there, he found the vibes to be immaculate. Everyone minding their own business, a corner with huddled up by a table having little quizzes, old people hanging out just by themselves or in groups, the bar was mostly empty. Even if it was full, it wasn't suffocating like his fifteen-million dollar mantion was starting to feel to him. A perfect Saturday night.

"Hello, can I please get a whiskey?" He asked the barkeep. It was a girl. She looked up at him confused as if he said something alien to her, spared a glance tothe other bartender. But proceeded to get him his drink with trembling hands, with a coaster placed on the bar she placed his drink on top of it. That's when he noticed she poured a little too much in his glass. With a hesitant smile she got back to her work.

He saw that she had a wipe cloth in her hard, and there was just one other barkeep serving four other people. She wiped around the counter and picked up the empty glassware.

"You don't barkeep that often?" Harry asked, not minding the extra ounce of alcohol he got served. The girl looked at him through her glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose.

It was evident on her face she didn't like working there, but she shook her head in no. Most bartenders would love to have conversations.

"I just help cleaning around." She shrugged.

Harry swore he saw the softest smile on her face there as she threw the cleaning cloth on her shoulder, and went on to get pick up the glasses which were newly abandoned now.

Harry sat there sipping on his drink until she returned. Hearing her voice, he wanted to have a conversation with her, about what, he didn't know.

He downed his Whiskey in one go when he saw come back out, it burnt his throat but it was good kinda burn. He shook his head, letting lit a soft groan of a sigh. He wanted to feel that burn so bad!

"Can I have another, please?" He asked the girl, again.

She glanced over at the barkeep again, sighing she pull out away before she pulled out a clean one to pour another glass of whiskey from him. This time a little less.

"Follow the two finger rule." He told her. She glanced at him confused so, he gestured it to her setting two of his fingers horizontally against his empty glass. She tried to mimick him but Harry noticed how small her hands are in compare to his, but she was smart enough to pick up on it and take the ridges on the glass into consideration when she poured just enough this time and replaced his empty glass on the same coaster.

"Thank you for the help." She said, "I don't make the drink here, so I just didn't know. Please don't tell the owner about this."

"It's alright, love." Harry assured her, "I am Harry by the way."

"YN." She smiled.

Actually smiled at him!

A tiny smile. But it was something at least.

She had to get back to work as she could see her boss glaring daggers at her. But soon enough he asked for another glass lf Whiskey. And watch concern take over her pretty eyes.

"You recently started working here?" He asked, not to be creepy but he just didn't know how to start a conversation with her.

"No, I've been working here for four years." She shared, wiping down the counter in front of ber for the millionth time.

"Strange, and you don't know how to pour a Whiskey?"

"Like, I said, I don't make drinks here. We have Sam for that." She spared the Barkeep a glance who was now mixing an intricate drink which was entertaining enough for the drunk customers. "I don't want to bother him because he's been having a bad day today."

Harry could understand. The man putting up a smile on his face for sure. A completely different scenario than his own but he could relate.

"I see." He sounded.

"Mhmm." She nodded.

Harry handed her his card as he was done for the night. Not wanting to get drunk his ass off and have to deal with a headache and a lecture the next day from his wife. YN returned with his card and his bill. He placed his card back in his wallet just as he was about to slip it back in his pocket, he opened it back up and grabbed all the cash he had, six bills of hundred pounds, he placed it on the bill before he grabbed his phone and ready to leave.

"Harry!" He heard a call of his name, "I, uhh, I think you left this." He turned to look at the girl.

"No, that's for you. A tip." He explained, running a finger under his nose subconsciously.

"This is a lot. I am afraid I can't take it." Her voice was very low and he was stood just an arm's distance from her.

"That's okay, I won't tell anyone." A cheeky smirk took over his features, "have a nice rest of the night, YN. And keep it, please." He shot a little wave before he made his way out feeling the alcohol kicking in. That'll help him sleep.

......................................................................

On the Tuesday night, he figured that the girl he saw on the weekend at the pub only worked on weekends. It was a bummer. But that didn't stopped him from ordering his usual.

"Harry, what the fuck is going on with you?" He heard his wife the first thing when he stepped a foot inside.

"Aella, not now." He sighed making his way upstairs.

"No, you've been coming home late. Now apparently you've been drinking. What the fuck is going on? You don't even want to help me around anymore." Aella hissed at him.

That wasn't true. He does help her around still. She never does one thing for him except cook, he doesn't expect her to do anything either. He does his own laundry, makes his own breakfast because she likes to sleep in, he cleans up after him like a grown human he is, he never once asked her to do anything for him.

Why was he so frustrated you may ask?

It's been more than a year now feeling distanced from his partner of ten years. Aella have been nothing but emotionally abusive to him. Ever since his business had taken off from past year and half, it also meant his work load being doubled up.

He's got about twenty thousand people working for his company doesn't mean it takes away all the responsibilities he's got towards his firm. He takes his work seriously. Though he doesn't mind helping around with chores, he lives there of course he does his part and even more at times. Just this morning he had her yelling right in his ear how she haven't been able to go shopping because he has been spending more time at the office to help her do the house chores, so she can have nice time and go out shopping with her friends.

The love they had when they were eighteen, in college, back when he had nothing but debt to his name. Now she sees him as a some credit card and a house maid, she runs away from spending time with him. Hell, he can't even remember the last time they had a meal together and talked about anything but his works or her shopping around. He can't even remember the last they made love. She doesn't talk to him unless she wants to borrow the credit card or when she needs him do certain chore in the house. It was these stupid little things which could be solved easily if she had the patience to talk it through.

He just keeps it to himself now, and does whatever he has to do so she isn't bickering around him. She doesn't want to hire people to help around when they can clearly afford. He wants peace when he's back home.

Right now making his way straight to the guest bedroom seemed rhe best option to him which have become his new bedroom. "We'll talk tomorrow." He mumbled.

......................................................................

It was Saturday and he didn't even noticed. Luckily he was able to get off work early as his assistant did most of his work voluntarily because he wanted a raise. Harry asked him to talk to the manager about it today.

He was going to go see his sister at the mall. She was there to pick up her shoes for her wedding and get her gown fitted for first time. Being her Man of Honour, it was something he was really taking interest into. His older sister was getting married to the love of her life!

That's probably the only thing in his life keeping him sane right now. Watching his sister so happily get married.

Just as he was passing the Nike store, he swore he saw the girl from the Pub from last weekend with a little ten year old boy. She was bullying him one moment and then pressing a kiss on his head. That reminded him of how Gemma still treats him, even though he's now pushing his thirties.

"Gem!" He beamed finally seeing his sister. "Oh, I missed you so much!" He pulled her in a bear hug.

"Oh, I missed you too!" She cooed. "You're gonna break my ribs!" He chuckled, pulling away finally. "How have you been?"

"Ms. Styles, the fitting room is ready for you." A lady approached them there.

"Oh yeah, thank you so much." Gemma beamed, "I'll go put on the dress."

"Of course, of course!" Harry urged her to go after the lady. He took a seat on the sofa, all he knew was this time Gemma was alone as their mum was busy with work. Anne has been helping out Gemma alot recently now that Harry has a shit load of work put on him. He patiently waited for his sister, watching other people get their dresses around the store. Happy tears and excited squeals were to be heard all over the floor.

His sister finally walked out of the fitting room with her finished up dress. It was exactly like the sketch she had shown him a few weeks ago. A fluffy Aline skirt with a bodice with sweetheart neckline. Her hair tied up in a low bun with the veil pinned in. He stood up from his place.

Now that made everything all the more legit to him.

He clearly remembers how he was accusing for being a drug dealer at eight for something she did to piss him off as if it was just yesterday, now she's all dressed up to be married. Yes, she's the older one but he's still brother. He's always seen her like a princess and his mum a a queen growing up.

"Awh, Harry!" Gemma cooed watching him get all teary eyed. She walked to him to hug him.

"You look so gorgeous!" He mumbled to her. Gemma pulled away to take a look at him, she just chuckled watching a tear make it's way down his cheek. She wiped it off cupping his face before hugging again. He hugged her back, rubbing her back twice, letting her go so she can do what they're here for.

During the appointment, he gave his own little insights what should be added more to the dress, whilst Gemma gave in her own about the fit of dress to her comfort.

Later that afternoon he was dragging her with him to a Tiffany store. She haven't picked out jewellery to go with her dress, and he had exactly piece in his mind from the last time he was there with his wife. It was simple diamond necklace made in platinum, a pair of diomond studs to go it.

"Harry you really don't have to." Gemma told him.

"Please, I want to." He made a puppy face, "it's a wedding present to my big sister."

"It's too expensive."

"But you're too precious to me, please lemme do you lemme do this" He insisted. "You can for something else too if you'd like."

"No, this is perfect." She rushed before he was going around looking for something else for her to choose from, probably something more expensive. "Thank you, Harry. You're the best brother anyone could ask for!"

"I love you, Gem, that's all." He chuckled.

"I love you too!" She said firmly.

On her way out, she was back to bullying him as they walked to the restaurant near by for early dinner. The day out with his sister was well spend. Much more happier than his time at home.

Though he haven't shared anything with Gemma about bis failing marriage, she did picked on his low mood. In the fleeting moments, she caught her baby brother lost somewhere or just having his shoulders slumped. He'd pull himself right up when he'd see her noticing him.

He dropped her back to her flat before he was asking his driver to take him to the pub. On the way he made a few calls to appoint a a few helpers at home, making sure they are being offered a fair salary. They already had a cook, because he doesn't have the time to make food and Aella doesn't seem to be interested in cooking or stepping a foot in kitchen unless it's to get something to eat.

He doesn't blame her, he finds cooking a bit exhausting too.

Rich people problems, he taunted himself.

Just when he stepped into the Pub, his eyes caught the sight of the girl. Taking a tray of beer glasses to the table where they held quizzes and little competitions, but today everyone was watching the Euro. He noticed she was dressed in all black, a pair of black baggy jeans, an oversized sweatshirt, but her shoes were white. Or supposed to be white with how beaten up they looked. Her long hair pulled up in a ponytail on the back of her head, and a pair of glasses he'd seen her wear the last time.

He had to keep his feelings in check as he's caught a bit of infatuation with this girl. He's married. Even though he might not be happy in his relationship in the moment, that doesn't mean he shouldn't even be looking at other people. There is nothing that sitting down with his wife and talk it all out wouldn't fix anything, he just needs to be in right state of mind to initiate the conversation.

He went to sit on his usual spot. There were hardly any people around there, everyone huddled up near the projector screen watching the match. Even the barkeep was paying attention to the game. Everyone was interested in the game apart from YN and him obviously.

"Hello," she smiled politely at him. Doing her job.

"Hello." He kep his phone face down on the bar in front of him. "I'll have the same, Whiskey please."

"Alright." She nodded and got him the drink, sticking to the little tip he gave her to pour the rught amount of whiskey in the glass and placed it right in front of him. Immediately got back to her work, taking in more glasses of alcohol to go serve the people sat in the crowd. When she got back, she stopped right by him.

"Oh, hey Harry, I just wanted to thank you for last week for the tip." She started, "my little brother got selected in his Cricket team at school so he needed new sport shoes which are very expensive. Thank you so much for tipping, even though I was being hesitant to take it. I wouldn't be able to buy him a pair otherwise."

Now that warmed his heart, the cash went to a very good use. "Aw, it's alright, love. I'm happy fo hear that."

She just smiled at him again and got back to her work. Never looked back, unless he needed another drink.

Now all she did was thank him for helping her unknowingly. He ate or drank outside rarely (though it's becoming a norm for him to visit this pub now a days), everytime he made sure to leave a generous tip for the people doing their job.

He had the same job at one time, and he knew how rude some self entitled people can get. He's managed to stay that grounded with his success.

She still had his heart fluttering in his chest as he watched her go about her evening. Working herself to exhaustion.

He couldn't but notice the way she just kept going, around drunk people. Her dark hair pulled up in a bun held up on the back of her hair with a green claw clasp, little pieces of hair falling onto her face.

"How old is he?" He spoke, initiating the conversation.

"Hmm?" YN looked at him as she was too busy putting back the clean glasses on the shelves. "Oh, he's twelve." The smile on her pushed her cheeks up, making her pretty eyes grow smaller.

"You aren't watching the game?"

"I am more into Cricket, actually." She shared, "I don't quite understand football. Don't you wanna watch it?"

"Oh no, I'm here for just a little bit then I'll be heading home." He rushed.

Honestly, he did enjoyed watching football because his wife did. They were friends throughout the highschool, and she played in the girls football team. One of the many reasons why he fell for her in the first place. Luckily they got into same college and started dating, got married after graduation and now there they are. He's sat in a pub downing his third Whiskey for the night, and she is god knows where.

Aella wasn't home when he left for work. He hasn't heard from her since.

He had two more tonight, before he was heading home. Leaving another big tip for YN.

......................................................................

It was a Monday morning, which meant chaos in YN's household.

Being the eldest of five siblings, she is always crushed by her little brothers and sister.

They all lived in a two bedroom flat, clearly not enough room for family of eight. Though, her parents were the most calmest, her dad passed out drunk his ass off on the sofa in the living room, she's in kitchen making breakfast for everyone.

YN was was just moving around the house, getting ready to leave for work whilst her siblings ate their breakfast, when she almost tripped over her dad passed out fast asleep on the rug in living room.

"Adi, who gave him money to go out drink last night?" She asked, as it reeked on alcohol that early in the morning in the living room, obviously she looked at the second eldest.

"Don't look at me like that, I haven't even seen him in five days!" Adi raised his hands up.

"Maa, did you?" She walked in the kitchen to watch her mum just doing ber work, acting nonchalant. That made her loose her mind there. "Haven't I told you clearly, not to give him any cash?" She asked.

"Maa, fucking answer me!" She raised her voice. "I work my ass off just for you to go on and feed to his addiction, huh? I can't fucking believe you!"

"Watch your language, you're talking to your mum!" Her mum raised her voice even louder.

"Don't tell me to watch my language, when you can't watch your actions." She pointed out the very obvious, the bulging stomach of her mum. "Just for your fun of few minutes you're ruining our lives here, you can't watch that?"

"YN, please it's eight in the morning." Adi spoke.

"Shut the fuck up and eat your breakfast!" She scolded the boy, "if I see either you give even a pound to either her, or him, you'll be grounded for good. Do you hear me?"

"Yes!" The boy nodded.

What was the reason behind her sudden outburst, you may wonder?

It was because, she works three jobs to look after brothers and sister, when their parents can't clearly do that. Her dad's an alcoholic and her mum doesn't simply cares. It's a rare thing that she's even up in the morning stepping a foot in the kitchen for any other reason than to eat.

Yes, that's not the only job of a mother to do. But she doesn't have an actual job, she doesn't help around the house, or have she ever helped around with the kids.

It is her who pays all the bills, pays the rent, pays for groceries, and even kids' school fees. Her little brothers could help just so much working part time, the eldest of the boys are eighteen and sixteen. The youngest born being three, and another sibling on the way.

Yeah, it was fucked up. Quite literally!

Somehow she had just managed to get her degree, on wil full scholarship, and it was just her and three of her brothers (which out of two also had full scholarship paying for their school fees) when her parents shared the new of a new baby. Well, that wasn't a problem until their mother started to neglect them either. YN has had it enough when they welcomed the youngest, a girl three years ago.

Apart from working a desk job from Monday to Friday, doing all ghe over time shifts to the point her boss has to force her to take days off so she doesn't sue the firm in future, to working odd jobs on weekends just so she can eat with her brothers and little sister. It was atrocious how their parents treated them, for her to work herself to exhaustion just for her mum to go on give her dad money to go out and get drunk his ass off. She trusted her mother, really did, that is she doesn't want to get a job or even help around the house that much, at least she can go get groceries.

"Come on now, if you all done with your breakfast." YN looked down grabbing her bag to leave for work, she walks her siblings to school everyday.

"YN, you know I'm doing my best to help you right?" Adi spoke walking along his big sister's side as the other kids walked ahead.

"I know, but I want you to focus on your studies first." YN shared. He's a clever boy, and loves to study. "Thank you for helping around though. I really appreciate that!"

He chuckled, "your welcome!"

"Now come on, best of luck for your test."

"How do you know that?" He stood there in surprise at the gate of his school. YN just shrugged.

"Bye, see you tonight. Please take the kids straight home."

"I will, I will." With a salute to his sister he walked back in.

YN made her way to her office taking a train. I was a small firm where she got to do her intership. She hoped to work an extra intership and study further just so she can get her dream and not be stuck being an accountant. No doubt she likes her job, it's a teeny bit enjoyable too, but it doesn't pay her enough to take care of the family she was born in. That makes her hate her job in this firm.

She needed an extended intership to apply at her dream company, Styles and Co., one of her favourite textile and fashion company in the city. The firm was very particular about hiring new people into their work family. The post she wanted to apply for paid so well. But she was stuck to get a proper job which paid her to survive.

It was like salt on her wounds seeing the building stand tall on her way to work everyday there. She glanced at the building, with the company name written in big, bold letters in gold on the building. Sighing she fixed her gaze on the ground as she walked two buildings down, but she bumped into someone.

"Oh!" She gasped, a steady hand on her arm prevented her from falling straight on her ass in the middle of the pavement.

"You alright?" She heard a deep voice.

"Yeah." She nodded finally looking up at the man dressed in a baby pink suit. To her surprise it was was the man from the bar where she worked on weekends. "Oh hi."

"Hello love, good morning." He beamed as dimples dented deep in his cheeks. "How come you're here?"

"Oh, I work two buildings down." She said.

"At the Darwin's, that Finance company?" He asked, surprised and confused. "Thought you worked at the pub?"

"I do, on weekends." She smiled, now getting awkward as he was trying to get to know her work life, "you work here?" She pointed at the building she can only dream to work at.

Harry looked at her trying to hold back his smile, "yeah. I do work here." He didn't wanted to tell her that that was his firm.

"Oh, nice." She nodded, feeling the jealousy build up in her chest all of a sudden. No wonder how he was so well dressed all the time, and leave her huge tips at the pub. She wanted to work there too! "Anyway, I'm getting late for work."

"Yeah, see you around." He said, watching her throw a petite wave at him as she started walking down the street to her work place.

Her heart was thumping against her chest as if it was about burst out of it's cage anytime soon. She could feel the lingering touch of his hand on her bicep still, she didn't know he was holding to keep her steady. It would be a lie to not say that YN's caught on a tiny little crush on this man who she'd met all for five times with brief interactions.

He's extremely polite and a complete gentleman. And also he's so darn pretty. Eyes green as a spring garden, skin as soft looking as a peacock feather, smile as bright as a ray of first morning sunshine. His aura was nothing but pretty pink and golden shades to her. As if he's human form of a golden retriever. Or maybe that's her mind putting together his image as a person in her imagination.

She haven't slept thinking about him late at night.

Yeah, she's fucked. She doesn't know shit about him and she's going crazy like a teenager for someone she saw at the place of weekend job. Or maybe she's just too lonely that it's her subconscious trying to help her with her loneliness. Shaking her head she got to work, longing into her work system.

"Hey YN." She heard Tom, her co-worker who was also her classmate in uni, who annoying worked in the cubical next to hers.

"Hi." She mumbled.

"How is your day going so far?" Tom asked.

"Good, yeah it is good." She nodded, frustratingly.

"Good to know." He nodded, taking a moment before he spoke again. But YN got a call from the manager asking her to go see him.

Tom never bothered YN for the rest of the day. It was after break that YN felt her frustration and anger melting down.

"You know he likes you." Jamila, the girl who sat on the other side of YN spoke, taking full advantage of Tom still being on his linch break.

"Who?" YN stopped her work to look at the curly haired girl next to her.

She leaned back on her chair, "Tom. He likes you and has been trying to ask you out."

"What? Did he tell you that?"

"Yeah, he did. Remember the last time you were being kicked out to take a vacation?" Jamila reminded her.

"Thay was like a year ago." YN added.

"Yeah!" The girl exclaimed, "he's in love with you! But you keep pushing away the poor boy away!"

"Boy? He's a thirty year old man." YN scoffed jokingly.

"And you're twenty-seven. What does it matter? He's an amazing guy." She pressed. It was true. Tom is truly an amazing guy. He's polite, caring and understanding. He certainly doesn't take no shit from their manager like others. He listened to YN sob once when her boyfriend broke up with her, because she didn't had time for him. He does all the bare minimum.

"I think you should put an halt to taking care of the kids who aren't really your responsibility, and give time to yourself." Jamila spoke, "it's time for your mum to be a grandma and she's popping out another kid when she can't take care of the six she already got. That's not fair for you."

"I don't want to talk about that now, Jamila." YN sighed getting back to her work, "those kids are my siblings, I love them."

Jamila didn't wanted to ruin her mood already, so she stopped there.

"Coffee for the ladies!" Tom announced as he placed a cup of coffee each on his colleagues' table, he placed a sandwich he got from the canteen downstairs on YN's. That's when she realised she haven't gotten up from her chair for her break.

"Thanks." She acknowledged the sweet gesture.

"No problem." He smiled and got back to his work.

On the other hand, Harry was surprised to see Aella at his office for the fifth time from last week. He saw from the little window which gave him clear view of the management floor talking to his PA. It gave him hope, that she's there to see him. Talk to him. Maybe they could go out to get lunch, but instead she dropped the lunch on the PA's desk and walked off to where he doesn't know.

His heart sunk to his stomach as he felt a headache burning behind his eyes. He heard a knock on his door which got him sniffling as he looking up. "Come in, please."

"Sir, Mrs. Styles left lunch for you." Mike said.

"Oh, yes please leave it on the table." Harry smiled, "thank you."

"Sure sir." Mike placed the paper bag on the coffee table in his cabin and left.

It was an hour later when he got a notification five thousand pounds being debited from the joint account he had with his wife. It was ridiculous how she spent money like there's no tomorrow. But if he says anything she's going to make a huge fuss about it. So he just went on with his day.

He couldn't take it. He called his assistant to tell him that he's leaving early today. And he did. He was going straight home.

Harry really wants to work this out with his wife. Getting a divorce felt so wrong to him, especially thinking back at how miserable his own parents were. But he's miserable staying in this marriage.

Just as he was waiting for the lift, placing an order for flowers to pick up on the way home on his phone he saw Aella was still there. She was leaving his Financial Advisor's office there.

"Aella?" He said, catching her like a deer in headlights. "What are you doing here?" It was inevitable to deny that his heart beat picked up a pace in his chest with a racing mind his skull.

"Harry, I, uhhh, I was just saying Hi to Richard." She stuttered with a smile on her face. "You, ehm, you want to go home now?"

As if the universe was coming to rescue her the lift door opened with a ding. Harry followed her in. He doesn't want to make a commotion in his office. He was going to wait until in the comfort of their house to even say a word.

......................................................................

"Kids!" YN announced when she got back home with a cake and a few balloons. "Come on, come on!" It was the little Zara's birthday.

The sleepy four year old was having a hard time staying up, on the sofa as their dinner was served close to midnight. It broke YN's heart to see the kids have their dinner this late. She wished he had extra hours in day for this. Their parents already starting to argue like everyday, today the topic was Mac and cheese for dinner.

But she urged the kids to one of the bedrooms so they can celebrate without seeing their parents arguing. She doesn't want the little girl's birthday to be ruined.

Zara was the youngest amd all four of her brothers are very protective of her so if YN. She's spoilt with so much love from her siblings there.

"Happy birthday to you." Every sang little Zara the birthday song as Adi lit the candles on the cake. "Happy birthday dear tiny little Zozo, happy birthday to you!"

"Yay!" YN cheered.

"Blow on the candles." Adi suggested. The little girl could do so much, so YN blew on the candle herself.

"How old are you?" YN asked.

"Four!" Zara held out five fingers instead making her siblings laugh.

"Silly, that's five." The second youngest, Sid giggled pointing out the obvious.

"That's okay." YN cooed, "come on let's eat the cake now!"

The kids went absolutely ham on the cake after eating the shitty mac and cheese their mum made. It was gone and gone. Zara was a mess with chocolate all over tiny hands and chubby cheeks. YN had her cleaned up and changed into clean clothes before she put her off to bed.

"Come on, boys off to bed you go." She announced. "Uh, before you go to bed, throw you laundry in the machine."

"Yes!" Samar, the third youngest said as he walked out with Sid.

"YN, did you got paid today?" Veer, the second oldest of the boys said.

"No, I went to help my friend at her shop after work. I'll get paid by tomorrow, why?"

"No, I just asked." He shrugged.

"What's wrong?" YN stopped him.

"We haven't paid for internet in past two months, I need to do my projects. Doesn't mean I got selected in the cricket team I don't have to do the projects." He shared, "Adi doesn't even let me use the laptop, and the computers at school suck!"

"Why doesn't he let you use the laptop?" She walked her to the boys' room which they all shared, "Adi, why don't you let him use the laptop for the projects?"

"He never asked me!" Adi defended himself. And the boys started arguing. It took YN a good half an hour to resolve the fight being a median when things escalated.

"I'll pay for the Wifi tomorrow after I get, no more fighting now. Go to bed." YN warned the boys before she walked out closing the door behind her. She put the laundry the machine and started it so it is all done by the morning, before she went to bed herself. It was their daily shenanigans, fighting and arguing with one another for something or other.

......................................................................

"Why were in Richard's office, Aella?" Harry asked.

"I told you, I was saying hi to him."

"Yeah? It took you three hours to say hi to him?" He could feel his heart thumping in his ears at this point. "Admit it Aella, there is no running away from this."

"Admit it god damn it!" He yelled when she said nothing. "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Why? Why would you go on and cheat!" He felt his eyes tearing up, "I have been trying my best to make this right, every time I come to talk to you. You just scoot away! Why?"

"I am so sorry, Harry." She looked down at her feet, "I am so sorry, you just haven't been there for lately."

"So you go on and cheat instead of talking this through with me?" He broke down, plopped down on the breakfast bar chair.

"You have been busy lately you don't even look at me!" She cried, "I couldn't take it. I am sorry that was so stupid of me."

"How long?" He asked, holding back tears. "How long have this been going on?" But she didn't say a word to him, "fine. Just leave me alone."

"Harry, please." Aella grabbed onto his hand, so tight it was sure going to redden his skin, "please! I am so sorry. Please, please, please let's just talk this through. I can't. I am sorry."

"Just leave me alone, Aella. Just..." He pulled his wrist out of her grip carefully before he walked back to his (guest) bedroom.

......................................................................

These past few months has been nothing but shit. He found out his wife has been cheating on him. With his Financial Advisor, Richard from past one year. It has been going on for a year. Richard was fired to say the least.

It has been a lot for him, mentally and emotionally.

It wasn't in him to even look at the woman he love and adore since he was eighteen. Twelve years she threw under the bus like it was no one's business. But he found himself going to therapy with her. Today was their fourth session and he just can't even get through it with her sat next to him. Harry doesn't even know how Aella convinced him to go to couple's therapy, or where he got the energy to put with the four sessions along her side.

She was back at it again. Taunting him for busy with work, not helping her around, not allowing her to use the credit cards for her shopping anymore was the new one, along with him asking her to look for a job now. He hadn't spoken a word about her choice on being a housewife, it was her choice and he was very willing to take care of her when they got married. It was what they agreed upon. But her spending have been going way out of hand for Harry to even fathom how she could be spending thousands and thousands of pounds on things she doesn't even use. Even once. She needed a bit of humbling, that's what their therapist suggested.

It wasn't something knew but happening since they got married and it had started to bother him now. He tried his best to express what he was feeling and yet have her lash out on him for not respecting her own life decisions. Even going as far as to reminding him the vows he said to her.

It was yet another weekend when Harry found himself walking in the pub again.

"Can I have one old fashioned please?" Harry asked the bar keep who was surprising working on the side he usually sits today. He saw YN walking around picking up empty glasses of liquor around the pub and bringing them back to clean them up and put them back, that's what he's seen her do all the time here.

"Hi, Harry!" She greeted him once she noticed him sitting there, continuing her work.

"Hello," he found himself smiling back at her. She was wearing the same black jeans and a different black hoodie this time. It has started to get cold he'd noticed. The same pair of glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. He noticed the new pink tint on her cheeks and lips, the length to her eye lashes behind her glasses- maybe she's wearing a new mascara!

"How was your day?" Yeah, that question was coming from him. He was making up the conversation again.

"It was pretty shit." She shrugged, wiping the glasses and putting them away one by one, "my manager at my desk job basically confiscated my work phone and laptop so I take the yearly paid vacation."

"Why would that be a shit day?" He was surprised, "you should happy about it."

"Not when you-" she paused not wanting to tell her life struggles to this man she has met only handful of times, "when you need the job so bad."

"Doesn't your job pay you well?" He took a big gulp of his drink and she just shrugged.

She wasn't to stand there and tell him most of it goes to paying, rent and bill and paying up for her second youngest brother's school fees. That she needs to work those extra jobs to really be able to get groceries and things which are required without any announcement or signs. Like new shoes for the kids, new clothes, new books, new stationary, a new bag pack and what not! Plus the yearly school fees for the kids who don't yet have scholarships.

"I see." He finished up his drink.

YN cringed at watching people drink around her when she despise her own father for doing the same. Why wouldn't she, this thing has torn her family apart to shreds. She hated to work here but it paid more than half of what her desk job pays her monthly.

Her father was fired from his job when her oldest (little) brother was born, because he would sneak alcohol in his water bottles. Her mother never worked, but she stopped caring once it was all too much for her. But one constant thing is that they keep having kids. Which is annoying. Very fucking annoying.

"How was your day?" She asked.

She wanted to keep up with the conversation!

"It was pretty shit for me too." He shrugged. Because it was true. He'd just walked out of the therapy session with his cheating wife.

"Did your boss force your to take days off too so you wouldn't sue their firm?" She smirked a cheeky little smile, "or did they force you to come to office?"

He chuckled, "the former."

Liar!

"Awh! I understand that." She cooed, "I hope you enjoy your paid vacation!"

"I hope so too." He nodded and ordered himself another drink.

"Mhmm!" She affirmed, "are you planning to go anywhere?"

And they talked about his imaginary and impromptu vacation to the Bahamas, and what he would like to do there. He just wasn't going to break her bubble there. She thinks he's just guy who works a very well paying job at one and not an actual CEO and owner of a multi-million dollar firm.

It was grounding but he also like how she found him and his talk interesting enough to care. Even about his fake plans there.

She didn't lash out on him at any point. She listened to him. Gave her own little views. Like how he should try all the coconut drinks and goodies and the local food at his trip to Bahamas which he's planning on to cancelling the very next weekend he sees her. Until she told him she would be continuing to work at the pub for the rest of ber two weeks off.

He forgot his second old fashioned he ordered as it was there. Especially when she started talking about his firm and how she wanted to work there but their skill requirements are something which will take her another life to acquire, having no idea she was talking to the CEO.

It was way better than going to couple's therapy.

Though he thinks he needs therapy. But the solo ones.

He made sure to leave her and the bar keep separate tips, being biased on her even though she didn't serve him anything tonight.

"You can't keep giving me big tips, Harry." She said, holding the money in her shaky hands, "I'd feel too bad to keep it every time."

"Please, it might help plan yourself a little trip to somewhere." He suggested.

Yeah, probably up till the grocery store...?

But she didn't wanted to argue with that so she went on with her work after he finally left. She'd spent her entire shift there. It was one in the morning, she needed to head home. So she clocked out and started making her little (very long) treck to the train station.

It wasn't until she sensed a car coming to an halt where she just passed and someone walking behind her closely. She pulled out her pepper spray from the water bottle compartment and had her fist ready.

"YN, don't punch me!" She heard the voice which was talking her ears off not even ten minutes ago.

"Oh my god!" She let out a gasp of relief. Sort of. If it weren't of him holding onto her hands she would have been lying on the ground, passed out.

She only knew his first name for god's sake!

"You alright?" He asked.

"Mhmm. I was just walking home. What are you doing here?"

"I was heading home too when I saw you walking down the pavement alone this late." He explained, "you want me to drop you off?" He saw someone following her close by there.

"No, it's okay." She smiled hesitantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We've met handful of times, I shouldn't have said it like that." He cleared his throat, "but I promise you can trust me." He looked glanced behind him as he could hear foot steps coming their way.

"It's okay, Harry, I am gonna take the train." It wasn't assuring enough for him.

Just as Harry was about to tell her he saw someone following her at a distance, that guy got close by, snatching her bag he ran away. Every happened in the blur but she saw the little blade in the hand of that person.

"No, wait!" She called Harry as he was about to take off after the guy, "He's got a knife with him."

"Don't you have your valuables in the bag?" He asked but grabbed her hand to drag her near his car with him just to be safe.

"No, I have my wallet in my pocket here. Just an extra jacket in the bag." She shared, "it's okay. Thank you though. At least have my pepper spray with me, it was very expensive."

"How did you see he's got a knife with him?"

"I've got four eyes on, Harry." She grinned making him chuckle. "Anyway, I'll head home now."

"YN, please. Someone just stole from you." He insisted, "lemme call a cab for you, yeah?"

"Harry it's fine." She reassured him. "I will manage."

"You sure?" He doesn't want to push her.

"Yes, I am very sure."

"Okay." He nodded.

......................................................................

The very next night, Harry went to the pub again. He needed to because he went to another therapy session with Aella today, he hated himself that much more for going through that instead of saying no.

It was crowded and YN was busy most of the time. But he got to talk to her, a little bit, but she asked him about his vacation. Which he "cancelled" the moment he planned it.

That went on for a week. And they became really good friends in no time. His growing crush on her was inevitable to stop, especially when he couldn't stop flirting with her. Especially when she sometimes flirt back.

"Like, come on Harry! You've got a wife at home!" He scolded himself, especially when he never once mentioned that he's married. He just couldn't bring himself up to do that.

But he started walking her down to the tube station, he still haven't got her number. He just can't bring himself to ask for it, he still carried the guilt of talking to another woman whilst he's still married. He wasn't going to do the same to Aella. That's just not him.

They're not in pre-school anymore to play tit for tat.

He's stuck though. He doesn't know how to approach it but he can't be with Aella or anyone for the matter of fact when he's that broken. His new budding feelings were just adding upto his confusion that much more.

Aella has been cheating on him for over a year. Maybe is it was a one time thing, he might have thought about giving her and those therapy sessions time. The therapist was going a shit job as well. He couldn't fathom how she lived under same roof as him when she was sleeping with someone else this whole while without any guilt. He no longer felt the love and warmth with her and from her that he used to, god knows how long ago. And here he was feeling guilty to even talk to YN, even if that meant as a friend.

Tonight, he still walked her to the tube station. She asked him about his mum and sister, that's all they talked about. He's yet to tell her that he's the owner of the firm she was admiring that day when she bumped into him. She's yet to tell him about her own family, though she hardly ever talks about herself. She was scared of scaring him off like she scared off her ex-boyfriend.

All he knew was she was the oldest of her siblings. That's all he knew.

Harry has got many, many, many more questions to ask to her to get to know her well.

"How were you so chill about your bag being stolen the other day?" He brought up a new topic to speak on as they were walking in complete silence. She just shrugged.

There was nothing in her bag really that day, just an old jacket that got stolen. It was better to loose the bag and that piece of clothing than have anyone go after a person with a sharp object. Plus that wasn't the worse thing happened to her. Was she upset? Yes, that was her favourite jacket. But at least no one got hurt, at least her pepper spray wasn't stolen and she didn't throw a punch at Harry.

YN walked beside him in a straight but she found him scooting closer and closer until his arm brushed against her. He hasn't had a drink today, he did asked for one but it just sat in front of him as he chatted away with her.

He has been wanting to hold her hand but her hands were stuffed in pockets of her coat. It was very cold.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked once he'd made sure she'd get in safe in the train.

"I'd say no." She said. "It's none of my business to have a say, but I think we're friends, so as a friend I'd say it's really not good for your health to drink everyday, Harry."

She wouldn't say that to anyone because, well, she was getting good tips and she needed those badly but, she's grown to like Harry quite a bit. Her infatuation on him have grown quite a bit as well. He's a great person afterall! Him talking about his mum and sister is just enough to tell how he treats them. He has been respectful towards her even when he's flirting with her sometimes.

Plus he's very good looking. That's an added bonus.

"Can I kiss you?"

Oh fuck no!

That got her heart pumping as it jumped in her ear, making her tummy do back flips. He stood towering in front of her, way too close that she could feel his aura. Him smirking made her realise she was chewing on her lip as she nodded, muttering a quiet yes.

Of course she said yes!

Harry didn't needed much more talking or convincing, as he reached up cradle her face in his palm. But she stopped him, stepping back. Her fingers lightly wrapped around his anchor tattoo.

"Is that a wedding band?" She asked seeing a plain ring on the fourth finger of his left hand, his usual chunky rings were missing tonight. "Are you married?" It broke Harry's heart to see tears well up behind her glasses, and she took another step back.

He honestly didn't know how he should answer her because it was very obvious. There was no excuse he could make other than admit to her.

"Yes, but-"

"There shouldn't be a but!" She interrupted him, "you're cheating on your partner!"

"YN, please, I, I don't know how to explain but this it's not what you're thinking, love."

"It's exactly what I'm thinking." She stated the obvious, "don't ever talk to me again please."

She left him standing there.

......................................................................

YN couldn't work on weekends anymore, and she took on afternoon shift at work because her mum gave birth to another boy. Luckily the baby wasn't born cranky like others.

It only put more toll on YN alone.

"YN? You alright?" Adi asked who was helping his sister in the kitchen.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Watch your fingers!"

"Oh!" He realised the knife was too close to his fingers as he chopped tomatoes.

"Idiot." YN chuckled smacking him on his shoulder.

After lunch most of the kids were off to sleep, she didn't knew where her dad was he's got an habit that he goes missing for days and then returns back home tk shower and eat, her mum was fast asleep with the new baby. She told Adi to look after the kids for a little bit if they needed anything so she can go take a nice walk.

It was a Sunday night so she was home all day. YN sat down on the bench at the park, there were still few people around but it was getting darker. She pulled out her phone to watch something as she doesn't get much time to do so.

Honestly she has been sulking since the night she last saw Harry. She had no idea he was married already. Maybe if she had asked...

YN had never showed any interest in dating or having a romantic life in all. She had too much on her plate to be a good enough partner to someone. But it was getting harder to keep her feelings in check with him.

Just when she swiped over open Google after putting on her earphones with music on to look at the recent Share values for her work and personal purposes, a article popped up on the new feed.

Divorce Notice: Styles & Co. Owner and CEO, Harry Styles gets cheated on by his wife.

Now she was surprised to see Harry's face plastered on the article cover with a blonde woman. It wasn't something she had ever expected to be.

Styles & Co. owner was in Top 10 richest man in the England, but no one hardly knew about him as a founder and CEO but all about his textile and fashion company. YN has been a huge nerd when it comes to business. She read many business magazines but none of then had even a single picture of Harry. There must have been a possibility which she must have missed by chance as there was a picture of him from one of the many formal events with his wife on his side.

Please give her benifit of the doubt, there are hundreds if not thousands of Harrys in this world!

But never once did she thought that the Harry who visited the pub she worked weekend shifts at would be one of the richest man in England. He was too humble, well spoken, and polite to be a millionaire. And no wonder why he felt her such heavy tips after.

She was furious on herself for potentially breaking up a relationship. She didn't wanted to click on the link, but she turned off her music and did. He was married to her for eight years! They have been together since they were eighteen. There were mentions of even Harry cheating on his wife with a random girl he was spotted with at a club last weekend, blurry pictures of him at the club were attached as receipts, and also written rumours of him seeing other people as well. And that Harry have file for a divorce and sued his (ex) wife for defamation as there were articles about him published two weeks back as well.

She realised she shouldn't have gotten that attached him when they would meet barely for three hours every night for a week and half. She needed to get her attachment issues in check. She was insanely jealous and heart broken she felt when she found out he was married. But she hated herself to not ask him about anything else.

It was a good thing she didn't proceeded with the kiss, not anyone with a sane mind to kiss a married person. But that would leading him on like he did to her by keeping such a huge secret from her. Yes, she haven't told him about her family situation, she doesn't like to tell her traumatic family story to her friends. She wasn't ready. She has her siblings to look after because they have no one to do that.

It was a good thing she didn't kiss him that night!

......................................................................

YN was on her way to work, her desk job on the Friday a week later she had read the article.

Her sulking have gotten worse at home. She was lashing out on her siblings and mother for no reason (well, she had many reasons with her mother). She had been feeling sad, angry, heart broken, guilty and every negative feeling a human can go through. She didn't wanted to celebrate her birthday day before.

Her time went by so fast that she didn't even realise it was time for lunch break, so she headed down stairs to the lobby to get some fresh air and a coffee to keep her up. She haven't been sleeping well either. Just when she was about to walk back to her floor the security guard stopped her.

"Ms. YLN." He called, "someone had these delivered under your name." The man handed her a small bouquet of all pink roses, tulips and carnations, a box of some fancy chocolate which looked very fucking expensive for some reason. She took it and walked upto the sofas kept in the lobby. She placed her coffee cup on the coffee table in front of her along with the chocolate box and plucked out the yellow note.

I'm extremely sorry for what happened that night, I had no bad intentions. Had no reason to basically do something so bad which was happening to me. Hope you like these flowers! Please call me if you think you can forgive me.

Ps. We have a spot for Financial Advisor in my company, would love to have you join our team. Let's at least be friends.

-H

It was all written in messy writing in block letters with red ink. A number scribbled over in the corner with a messy heart drawn as a punctuation at the end of him signing off. On the back of the note said something more.

Please do call me. I'll be looking forward to it. Please?

At the end of the day, YN was walking back home. Bouquet of flowers tucked in between her her chest and arms delicately. She had saved Harry's number on her phone so she pulled up her number to call him finally. He picked up on the third ring.

"Hi, Harry." She spoke, slowing down as she neared his firm.

"Hi, you called!" He celebrated on the other side, a clear sigh audible, "Are you off work now? I wanted to talk."

"I'm on my way back home."

"I, I am still stuck at work, would, would you mind coming up? I, I don't want to talk about this over a phone call. Please?" He plead. His voice wavered, maybe it was him feeling or the poor network connection. YN didn't know if she should go in at his work place. "Come up, I'll ask the receptionist to send you up, please!"

"I- uhhh, okay, okay." She sighed.

"Stay on the phone, okay?" He requested, the line went silent for a bit. "Walk right in."

So she did. The receptionist told her the way to his office. His office was everything she imagined it to look like from the inside, marble floor so clean you could see your face in it, glass cubicles, separated offices for the higher level management on the fourth floor. She took the stair to the third floor for a reason. It was all empty by now, the second floor which was the accounts department. Third floor was all things fashion she did not understand but found very fascinating. A few people still working. She felt very under dressed walking through the floor to another set stairs to the fourth floor, in her blue baggy jeans and long sleeved t-shirt. Her work place didn't had any dress code necessarily, unless the employees are dressed appropriately even if it's something casual.

"Hi, I am here to see Mr. Styles." YN approached the desk out of office at the very end of the hall.

"YN?" The man asked.

"Yeah."

"That's Mr. Styles' office, you can go right in." He pointed at the big brown door.

YN could see Harry already walking upto the door from the skinny glass window next to the door. Before she could knock, he swung the door open. His classic frog smile plaster on his face, wide and happy enough to make his dimples appear evidently on his cheeks. Without a word he stepped aside and let her walk in before he gently shut the door behind him, pulled the blinds down on the skinny window by the door and walked her to the sofa area in his office, opposite to his desk.

"What would you like?" He asked, picking up the receiver to his desk phone. "Coffee? Tea?"

"I, I am good thank you." She stuttered feeling awkward standing there not knowing what to do. The sofa looked way too good and expensive for her to put her butt on it. But she saw still muttering something in the phone quickly.

"Why don't you have a seat?" He suggested already taking a seat on the end of the sofa. She did the same, placing her new bag she thrifted the other day on the floor and the bouquet of flowers on the coffee table carefully. She sat by the edge on the cushion. Harry caught on that but said nothing.

"You wanted to talk?" She asked.

"Mhmm." He nodded, eyes glazed on moony shimmer as he looked at her with his teeth burying in his bottom lip, "about that night, YN, I want to apologise first and explain to you what really happened."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about you being married? You told me nothing about you but at the same time you told me everything!" Her voice wavered as her vision went water with tears. Brick by brick her wall was falling apart there.

"Because I was not happy with her." He stated, carefully scooted closer to her but got on the rug on the floor next to her knees making her shift back in her seat. He reached for her hand, giving her the option to go on and hold his if she wanted to, but she chose not to. "I need you to please listen to me, okay?"

"Mhmm." She sounded.

"She was cheating on me, for over a year. I wasn't happy. I don't know why I put up with her for three months after I found out, but I couldn't take it anymore after that night with you. I filed for a divorce." He looked up at her like a little lost puppy, "I feel so guilty for leading you on like that, love, I wish I knew how to fix that."

"Doesn't matter, you are still married to her." She began but he quickly spoke in between.

"Not anymore."

"You were back then!" She got frustrated, "you were going to do the same thing to her."

It hit him in the very next morning after that night which lead him to get a divorce, there was no other choice than to admit to her, "I know, and I am so guilty for doing that."

"I get it." She said but was interrupted by saying anything further hearing the knock on the door. It was his assistant, two cups of tea which he placed on the coffee table and left.

"Look YN, I have spent enough time with me to know how I feel for you. You've become my best friend in no time. Didn't tell you anything because I was afraid you'd treat me differently, was wrong on that too." He dared to hook his pointer finger around hers but she didn't seem to mind, "I have grown to like you so much."

"Harry, I..." She trailed off for a moment, "I can't, I, I am not ready for anything of this sort. I, I mean I'm not— I can't give you the time..."

"I, why not?" He was surprised, "you were going to-"

"I know, I don't want you to bring that up again." She stated, it made her feel to guilty. No matter if she knew the truth now. "I have my siblings to look after, I am always working and I can't give someone the time and energy. It's not fair. For anyone!"

It has been a thing for YN since her brother Adi, the eldest of the boys' was born. She was just ten years old and she taught herself to take care of her baby brother when her mum would up and leave to gossip with the neighbour lady for hours and hours on end, even the entire day. Then two years later came her another brother, and from then their family had grown from family-of-four to noe a family-of-nine. It was hilarious at this point.

Her boyfriend of three years broke up with her within six months of her moving back in with her parents after the youngest of the boys' was born. Merely because she was working two jobs and looking after the kids who weren't hers!

But they are her siblings.

No matter how much she wanted all of the good things for herself, a loving partner, kids of her own, a little family of her own. She had got to fullfill her dream of through the little babies her mum gave birth to but wanted no responsibilities towards. Since her breakup, she never dated again really. Though her colleagues tried to set her up but none of the dates worked out for her. Which she was totally fine with.

Harry looked at her, "look we can take it slow. To be vulnerable with you, I've started to go to therapy- now you're the only I'm sharing this with because I know you're not going to judge me for it- my therapist says I need time. To myself. Which I have plenty of. That is why I offered you the job as our financial advisor so we can still be friends and hang out. I no longer want to drown my sorrows and sadness in alcohol, it's sickening! I, I want a friend like you!"

She watched as he rushed to speak, faster than he usually talks. His nose was turned pick and so were the apples of his cheeks, eye lashes wet from tears brimming in his eyes. Feeling bad, she found herself slipping her hand in his. His skin was warmly comforting against hers. His hand much bigger than hers, Harry noticed.

"You don't know anything Harry, I'm really sorry if I've unknowingly led you on. It wasn't my intention." She mumbled.

"I want to know, I'm here to listen to you like you do to me, love. You know I would never judge you." He admitted. Honestly he wanted that so bad, not just one sided conversation where only he's the one speaking. "You didn't led me onto anything, no apology is needed here. In fact I should be the one apologising."

"You don't know Harry, I've got..." She trailed off, "I, I can't talk about this right now. I'm sorry." Her apology was punctuated with a quiet sob leaving her lips.

"That's okay," he assured her, "it's fine with me." He noticed how she held her breath until she couldn't, showing the sign what he could only make up to be anxiety. "Here." He fetched her a bottle of water from the mini fridge.

He sat there giving her the time to calm herself down because he didn't wanted to intervene and make things worse for her. Later he offered to drive her home which surprisingly she agreed to, she put up her address on his GPS in the car and sat there in silence. Anxious checking every turn he took.

Now YN wasn't embarrassed of her family, though it come like that. She just hated the judgement which came along with it. Both her parents didn't work, one was alcoholic and other simply doesn't want the responsibility. People asked her why did she took care of kids who weren't hers? Well, they're still her siblings. They didn't asked to be brought up into this world. She doesn't want her siblings to go through what she had went through growing up with a pair of parents who should have clearly gotten a divorce the next hour they got married. She stopped talking about it all together when it started to get to her. She was happy with what she had and being the guardian to her siblings.

"Hmm?" She noticed Harry was actually saying something as he took the last turn to her place.

"I said, how is your brother? How's his cricket practice going on?" He asked again.

"Oh, he's doing fine. He had a match yesterday." She shared.

"Should I stop here?" He asked slowing down two buildings down her actual one. But YN saw her brother there coming back home, probably from one of his jobs.

Adi looked at her suspiciously as the car came to an halt next to him. YN opened the door to get out but her brother blocked her.

"Oh hello there mate!" Adi said, "I am YN's brother, Adi."

"Hello." Harry chuckled watching YN roll her eyes. "I'm Harry."

"Nice to meet you Harry!" Adi exclaimed side eyeing his older sister, "how come you know my sister?"

"We're friends." He shared.

"Oh!" Adi dragged, "would you like to come up, have a cuppa?"

Harry glanced at YN awkwardly, "he's got to go, Adi now move away." She tried to shove the boy aside but he wouldn't budge, so she scolded him. Harry didn't understood a word but Adi moved away and went straight to the building. "Thank you for driving me home Harry."

"Don't mention it." He smiled at her.

"I'm sorry about that, little brothers are very annoying sometimes." She said awkwardly, stalling long enough to make it known she didn't wanted to go. But she had to go, the kids were probably on their own and doing as they please instead of doing their homework.

"Hey!" He complained, "not all little brothers are annoying!" She just chuckled knowing why he was defending the boy he just met, he's probably got an older sister as well!

"Harry, you've become a really good friend over these past few months." YN shared, "thank you so much for everything."

"If anything, I should be the one thank you for listening to me rant." A sheepish smile took over his gorgeous features, "most people find me annoying because I talk slow and shit."

"It's not annoying." She shook her head.

"I'm going to believe you here."

"Anyway, I should go." She said getting out but stopped and plucked out one pink rose from her bouquet and gave it to him.

"Thank you love." He smirked.

"These are very pretty thank-" she was interrupted by Adi coming back out running with a crying Zara in his arms making her jump out and run to the kids.

Harry got out as well in shock watching as the boy explained to his sister what must have happened. Adi was holding onto the little girl's arm securely.

"What happened?" Harry dared to asked.

"Harry, oh my god you're still here!" YN breathed out in relief, "please would you take us to the nearest hospital?"

"Of course, get in." He agreed in a heartbeat. Adi hopped into the backseat with the crying girl next to YN and Harry zoomed to the nearest hospital.

"I think she broke her arm." Adi shared.

After her it's Adi who is there for the kids but he came home late for work. She was pissed that their mum didn't even wanted to keep an eye on the kids that one of them broke an arm literally. Zara was being checked on in the ER when she asked Adi to go back home and check on other kids. She was really furious on her mother.

It was pretty late when the doctors were done treating Zara. She had a cast on which had to be kept on for next two weeks. The little girl was was still overwhelmed by everything, it was the first time she had to be rushed to an ER and hopefully the last time. She looked scared as she lied there with her cast on.

"Harry would you mind staying here whilst I take care of the discharge?" She requested.

"Sure." He nodded.

He sat there by the little girl, "hey, what's your name?"

"Zara." She pouted. "Where is YN?"

"She's gone to take care of a few things so you can home and rest." Harry explained. "I am Harry by the way."

"I want Coco!" She whined quietly. Harry assumed it might be a pet or her stuffed toy.

"Yeah? You miss her?"

"Mhmm." Zara nodded. She's so much like her older sister he noticed there, all same features. YN came back rather quickly.

She had to call up her colleague, Jamila to ask her to lend some money. She had just paid for her mum and took out a loan on her credit card which she's still paying up for. The bank transfer was not going through so Jamila offered to come down to the hospital and pay for the bills.

"I wanna go home." Zara shared with her sister.

"Just a few minutes and we'll go home okay?" YN assured her.

"What's wrong, love?" Harry enquired.

"It's nothing. And Harry, thank you so much for driving us here and waiting here, you really didn't had to but you still did." She smiled, "Thank you."

"No problem, YN." He chuckled.

"I'm just gonna wait for my friend to come here, so you don't have to wait up anymore." YN said urging him, he's done a lot already she doesn't want him to wait up more. It was already close to midnight.

"It's alright, I don't mind waiting up." He assured her. "Nah! No arguing, she's asleep!" He shushed her down, "why did you call your friend over? I would have dropped you back home."

"Oh, it's not that..." She stuttered. She mumble quietly which he couldn't make it but he understood what it was.

"Could have asked me." He sighed standing up from his seat, "come with me." He grabbed a gentle hold on her hand and dragged her out with him.

"Zara's alone the—"

"She's fine there." He interrupted her. "Call your friend up and ask them not to come."

"Harry, listen to me!" She yanked on his hand the best she could to stop him. "I know you want to help, but I can manage to look after my family just fine."

"I'm sorry, YN, but I'm not saying you can't. I'm just trying to help you out here." He explained.

"I really, really appreciate that, Harry. I really do. But you're not going to take it back, are you?"

He just stared at her for a beat, "I will, with twelve per cent interest. Now come on." With that he walked her to the reception and paid for the bills and all, he made YN call her friend and ask them to not go over before dropping her back home. "You want me to carry her upstairs?" He offered, putting his car in park.

"It's alright, I can carry her." She smiled. "Thank you so much for today, Harry."

"Don't mention it." He shook his head chuckling, "hey, YN?"

"Hmm?" She looked up at him stood on the pavement with her sister clung onto her like a baby monkey, fast asleep. She juggled the bouquet of flowers and her keys as well.

"The job post is still available, you can just walk in on Monday for the interview, yeah?" He reminded her.

"Harry, I don't know if I'm qualified enough to be a good Financial Advisor." YN spoke, her voice quiet so she doesn't wake her sister.

"I'm not qualified to be a CEO either," he shrugged.

"Okay, I'll go for the interview." She nodded, "but don't threatened your HR and Manager, please!"

He giggled, "I won't, I promise."

"Alright." She smiled, "good night, amd thank you so much."

"Stop thanking me now!" He warned her, "and good night."

Harry waited for her to wall back in her building safely before getting back in his car.

At least he's got a good friend if not anything else. But he was unaware of what was to come his way.

......................................................................

N O T E :

Y'all this took me wayyyyyy to long write. I've been writing this from late November last year. Was stuck on how I could have explored the characters mentioned in this one.

I can write more about it, tho I don't know what I can. But if y'all have any suggestions I'll consider them. <3

I really hope y'all like this one. Please leave a comment and tell me how you liked it. Or if you have any suggestions.

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @onlyangelrain @originalsoulcollector @harrysgirl-1d

Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

[wihellib]

WHB, Nightmare Passes, and Value

This is going to be a long post.

It would cost me $72.94 real life dollars if I wanted to possess Beel Bath. For that price I would get:

Solomon Seals: 300 (6 pulls)

Lesser (Red) Keys: 210 (7 ten pulls)

Greater (Gold) Keys: 250 (5 ten pulls)

Solomon’s Tears: 168 (Enough to Promote one character 4/4 times and another 3/4 times)

Pie Piece Choice Chest: 40 (Not enough to upgrade one character’s skill to level 5, which needs 60 pie pieces)

Pie Choice Chest: 50 (Not enough to upgrade one character’s skill to level 8, which needs 160 pies)

Devil Gummy Choice Chest: 10 (Easy to farm, so useless)

Beel Homescreen Buttons: 4 (My Devils, Text Messages, Secret Club, Dark Sanctuary)

Beel Bath Artifact: 2

Beel Bath Card: 1

*These numbers don’t include the free tier that anyone can get.

Now, if you want people to spend an amount of money on your game that’s comparable to the full price of a AAA game (good for many, many hours of fun) then you have to make it worth their while.

This is what I would change to the Nightmare Pass to improve its value:

The Items

Give 500 Solomon Seals (1 ten pull), since 6 pulls is such an odd number. Greater Keys have much less value than Lesser Keys, so, to compensate, it should be 300 Lesser Keys (10 ten pulls) and 100 Greater Keys (2 ten pulls).

They already give a good number of Solomon Seals, so it can be kept like that.

The entire pies system needs to be reworked. It’s absurd how much it costs to upgrade character skills, especially when we have no way of farming pies. So, I’m just going to ignore this part, and just say ‘Do Better’.

The Gummies have extremely low value since it’s so easy for us to farm them, so the Gummy Chests needs to be removed from the Pass and replaced with something else. There are a lot of options, like nightmare pancakes, or advanced candy choice chests, etc.

In regards to the Homescreen buttons, I think that’s a great, unique way to add value to the Pass. However, this is only the case when they are unique buttons. For this Pass, the buttons you get are just of normal Beel, they are not his Bath versions. The problem is you can get all other normal King versions in the Nightmare Pancake shop. This is not fair. Full stop. It punishes Beel fans for no reason. So, the Pass should give unique versions of the buttons instead, and normal Beel buttons should be in the nightmare pancake shop.

You should also get a unique frame.

The L Card

Now, onto the star of the show, the L card. You have to do something to set these cards apart from the others. Give me a reason to spend money on this card when I can get the others for free.

The easiest thing to do is to always make the cards explicit. The full cock and balls and oh look there’s a butthole. Make them obscene. This obviously wouldn’t work for mobile app users, but PrettyBusy should be pushing more and more people over to EroLabs anyways. They need to figure out a way for people to transfer their accounts and then go all in on EroLabs so they don’t have to worry about censorship.

Something that would add huge value to the nightmare passes is if the L card’s story was voiced. Not fully voiced, the side characters wouldn’t be, just the main guy on the card would be voiced. I understand getting voice acting is expensive. But this wouldn’t have to be every card on the pass and when it was, they could increase the price a little bit.

Also the L card should be fully evolved if you buy it. Currently you can only buy the card once and have no way of getting more copies to evolve it. So an easy way to add value to the card is to have it fully evolved (i.e. more powerful).

The Character On The Card

Moving on to which characters should be featured on the nightmare pass. I am adamant that none of the Kings should be on a nightmare pass ever.

The main love interests of WHB are the 7 Demon Kings. The others get a sex scene in the main story and maybe some flirty texts/interactions, but that’s it. I really don’t think any of the main love interests of a game should be completely paywalled.

The nightmare pass works best and is the most fair when it’s a once-in-a-while thing (every 3-4 months) and is used to showcase characters that are not the main love interests, like Gabriel and Juno.

This way also has more potential for making money. It’s like, “Hey, I know how much you love Andrealphus or Minhyeok, and you’re sad you’ll only get one sex scene with them and no fancy art, but what if we told you that you could… if you buy these nightmare passes.” People would jump at that way more than a non-explicit card of Beel that’s very similar to other cards that you can get for free. The nightmare pass is devalued in this case.

Finale

So far PrettyBusy hasn’t said anything about the controversy surrounding the nightmare pass. There is a strong chance that they will ignore it completely. So, please keep the pressure up and keep sending them emails (be professional, not bullies) expressing your displeasure with the current state of WHB.

[randalivorey]

ranfren keychains update

I do not care if this gets me hated on or get a 'beware' put up abt me but im so fucking done with y'alls bullshit. I specified everywhere that these were PREORDERS/PRESALES, This means i DO NOT have them in physical stock and all the money used to buy the keychains would go towards the making of them and also them being shipped out. But so many of you little fuckers keep DMing me being like 'its been one full day where are my keychains i wanna replacement!!" GIVE IT FUCKING TIME?? Im in a situation with etsy atm with them taking over $500 USD of profit from me that was going towards the keychains, and i do not have a job so i cant just easily make all the money back so its going to take a while (SIDE NOTE; I have informed nearly everyone about this and i still get complains about it coming in late from those same people.) But im so sick and tired of everyone bitching at me abt it on a daily base and all the dickheads being pissy towards me abt their late keychains (dont even get me fucking started on the dickwads who kept trying to get an extra free keychain). Im in the process of refunding everyone cause i genuinely dont enjoy making these anymore, i've become extremely bitter around this all and have grown more of a hatred towards the fandom and its people. Thank you to the very few sweet people who are understanding n all but in the end im not doing this anymore y'all will not be able to obtain anymore ranfren keychains from me so it might be best to search out for ranfren stuff from other creators. Thank you and goodbye. -- Randalivorey

[batneko]

Okay I was trying to come up with a sugar daddy bowuigi AU and I ended up spending so much time thinking about the setting that this is gonna be another long one

So! It's modern day, big city. I prefer to think of it as still a world full of magic and mushrooms and monsters but if y'all want to picture this as a human AU feel free. In this world instead of a king Bowser is the third-generation owner of the biggest demolition company in the city. They took a slight dent lately because Bowser doesn't exactly get along with the city planner... but the company is still best in the business and not hurting for work.

Then there's the Mario brothers, who run a tiny independent plumbing company and by sheer coincidence have a phone number exactly one digit off from Koopa Demolition. They're good at what they do but because they can only take at most two jobs at a time they sometimes struggle. And they can't cut costs (any more than they already have) so the only leg up they have on the competition is promising to be faster than anyone else at the same price. It means they have to work a lot harder (and will definitely backfire sooner or later) but right now they're doing pretty well. Reasonably well. They're doing okay.

Having nearly the same number as a different business means that occasionally both groups will show up somewhere thinking they're about to negotiate a contract only to find out they just wasted their time and gas money. Hard feelings build up. Once, when the bros actually managed to convince a building owner to replace the lead pipes instead of tearing everything down, Mario and Bowser very nearly got into a physical fight. (It doesn't help that Mario is dating Bowser's ex though neither of them will admit that's part of it.)

And then one night Bowser goes back to a demo site to check on something, ends up getting hurt, and Luigi happens to be working late on a job nearby and comes to his rescue. He insists on accompanying Bowser all the way to the hospital, and while he's waiting with him mentions that it turned out to be a good thing the van broke down because if he wasn't walking back to the subway he might not have heard Bowser cry out. Bowser asks how Luigi is going to get home now, since it's so late the subway isn't running anymore, and Luigi says "I'll... I'll figure something out." Bowser calls one of his people and makes them give Luigi a ride. It's awkward for everyone.

The next day a tow truck shows up to take the Mario Bros' van to a mechanic. They're like "we didn't order this??" and the driver just says it was paid for in advance. Luigi realizes what happened and, thinking about the bad blood between Mario and Bowser, tells him the client last night was really grateful for him working late. Mario says they should thank him and Luigi says he definitely will.

So he goes to see Bowser, who is still laid up with a broken foot, and brings him a fruit basket. Bowser is like, I will absolutely eat this fruit but fixing the van was supposed to be payment for Luigi's help. He doesn't like feeling indebted. And Luigi says it was too much! There must be something Luigi can do to thank him properly.

Well... there's this stupid local businessman dinner that Bowser really didn't want to go to. Having somebody to talk to will make it more bearable. Luigi says sure, and the day of the dinner Bowser picks him up two hours early to go out and buy him a suit. Top to bottom, shoes and all. Luigi is a little offended Bowser didn't think he had nice enough clothes... but once they get to the venue and see what everyone else is wearing he can admit he did not have nice enough clothes.

The dinner goes well. Luigi IS a local businessman and nobody questions what he's doing there, even if they haven't heard of his company. Talking with Bowser is surprisingly easy, especially since plumbing and demolition have enough overlap that they can chat about work without having to explain much. They have a lot of similar gripes about clients and contracts and tools.

After a pretty nice evening and maybe one too many glasses of wine, it's all too easy to forget this wasn't supposed to be a date-date and fall into bed with Bowser. When Luigi gets home, rumpled and dressed in clothes he didn't leave in, Mario just congratulates him on what looks like a successful night.

A few days later there's a delivery. A brand new set of the power tools Luigi had mentioned he daydreamed about. Luigi calls Bowser and says this is too much, he can't accept it, and Bowser just says, "keep 'em or throw 'em out, I'm not taking them back. Already wrote them off as a business expense."

Luigi keeps them, but he can't explain this one away. He tells Mario that the person he went out with last week is... from a different socio-economic bracket. (Mario is not allowed to judge, Peach pays for most of their dates too.) They both avoid using the S-D words, but Mario says he feels too weird accepting work equipment from a stranger. Better tell the guy to stick to personal gifts.

So with something like brotherly approval, Luigi starts dating Bowser. He gets clothes, a new phone, fancy dinners and nights at expensive hotels. Bowser is not a bad date (except for when he is) but Luigi always feels a little weird knowing that their relationship is transactional. Even though Bowser clearly likes him and wants to make him happy, Luigi feels like he can't speak up about Bowser being demanding or talking down to people. Because if he's not agreeable enough Bowser will just find somebody new.

Meanwhile, Bowser has NO IDEA that Luigi thinks this. Somewhere along the line he got it in his head that his affection is a burden. He hasn't thought about this enough to put it into words, but he feels like he needs to reward people for being around him or they'll leave. He's not even trying to be a sugar daddy, he treats all of the (few) people he loves like this.

It's not until they've been dating long enough for Luigi to meet Bowser's son that anything changes. Luigi immediately sees that Bowser is pulling the old "new toys make up for not actually being around, right?" and can't stop himself from telling him that NO it does NOT make up for it. Your son wants your TIME.

He's extremely surprised when Bowser listens. And after Luigi tells him that asking Junior about his day and his hobbies will make him feel more cared about, Bowser starts making an effort to ask Luigi those things too.

Eventually he starts to think that... maybe? Bowser has just been romantically incompetent this whole time? So he tests it, and the next time Bowser tries to demand he take a week off to go on a boring business trip with him, Luigi (calmly but firmly) says that he can't possibly miss that much work but Bowser can call and talk to him every day. Bowser goes for it. He actually seems really excited that Luigi is "allowing" him to have so much of his attention.

Oof. Now Luigi feels bad.

After a couple more weeks of trying to wean Bowser off buying his affection (except paying the phone bill because Luigi seriously couldn't afford to do that himself) Luigi asks Bowser if he can officially call them boyfriends?

Bowser practically falls all over himself to agree. Everything is good, they understand each other, Luigi even has his own section in Bowser's closet. He could see this relationship lasting for the rest of his life.

Now he just needs to figure out how to tell his brother...

[preemshots]

oc smash or pass

tagged by @theloverstemperance tagging ANYONE who wants to do this but hasn't yet. please tag me as the person who tagged you so i can read about your OC :D rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

BASICS

Full Name: NV ("nut v". i never picked a real full name, but it's also not valerie or vincent lmao) Nickname: V Age: 27 in 2077 Height: 5'10" Eyes: Black Kiroshi "The Oracle" with red emissive pupil UI Gender: nonbinary Pronouns: they/she; masc>femme nouns Sexuality: yeah. (bi/pan/queer/poly all of the above)

PROS

obvious: NV is outwardly reserved and focused most of the time; brow furrowed, slight resting grump face. but they're also terrible at hiding what they're feeling and it's easy to break this focus. if they like you, they'll react strongly to you--usually with snark, bold suggestions, or by getting flustered.

dependable sucker: prefers to serve others before self, and once making a choice follows through with it (even if they know they'll regret it or have been deceived).

observant: pays attention to every detail of everything they can, will randomly give you the most thoughtful gift or something you mentioned needing/wanting but forgot about.

enduring: can tolerate a lot--physically, mentally, emotionally, even without certainty of reward at the end.

switch: their dynamic depends on the person, but generally are top-leaning. they are just as eager to struggle for dominance as they are to be put in their place.

work hard, play hard mentality: they overwork to justify seeking pleasure and good times, believing strongly in indulgent treats and blowing off steam--and most importantly, treating others.

1TB SDD memory: their sense of humanity is extremely dependent upon their connections with others above all else, whether close/personal, casual/transactional, or human/AI. they will not forget you.

cybernetically enhanced: stronger than average, but they're made of mostly doll parts, so you know. pleasure enhancements are included >:3

CONS

thrill seeker: they constantly want to test the limits of their cybernetic body in ridiculous ways--whether with new, dangerous drugs, by jumping off buildings in corpo plaza, or watching hacked BDs. their cybernetics aren't even particularly strong; they deliberately choose cheap/basic models and are more than willing to blow money on repairs/replacement parts.

rat: refuses to buy food unless it's for others. they'll openly steal food off tables as they pass by random people dining on the street to get the very limited caloric intake they need. if that fails, they'll even eat something off the ground if it doesn't look too gross.

deeply unwell: it's not just the creepy look of the kiroshis; years of cybernetic replacements have eroded NV's sense of humanity. while there's no risk of a full blown cyberpsychotic breakdown, a sort of gnawing omnipresent craving for violence lives inside them, something they consistently indulge in on a small scale via work when the opportunity presents itself. though it's not enough to motivate their decisions, they do enjoy the excuse.

the fool: their sense of identity is largely defined by choice and the guilt that follows. nudging them into misguided choices is not particularly difficult.

indifferent reaper: they are acutely aware of the nature of merc work, how often they're required to pass judgement on behalf of others whom they may not agree with, as well as how often they are given the unique opportunity to pass life-or-death judgement themselves. but even when executing something they feel is right, they don't really believe in greater moral justice, only luck and bad luck.

feral: the relic and johnny's influence prevent further decay of their humanity but also exacerbate a tendency to overindulge in all their vices. they WILL get themselves into trouble.

narrow viewpoint: particularly focused on individual survival, they don't often examine the larger picture (of corps, society, long-term manipulation, etc.)

EXTRAS

former nomad who loves cars and driving around. they are either the best driver (on the clock) or the scariest (off the clock the thrill seeking mentality kicks in, no thoughts head empty, my insurance will cover this, etc.)

utility netrunner: very skilled but only uses it for doing spooky shit, never direct attacks.

throwing knife user. likes to pounce on their prey and abuse finishers.

also a failed arasaka corpo who loves bullying other corpos but is absolutely embarassed about being a failed corpo. it is not hard to see why they were bad at it.

smoker.

eager to follow a leader but generally suspicious of organized groups that recruit. indiscriminately hazes every ganger in night city, will beat their asses for fun and then sell their guns back to them

more propaganda under the cut (warning for slight spice 🌶)

[kitausuret]

There's something interesting I've realized about the concept of a "living wage" in the US that has only really occurred to me since I got a better job that.. you know, pays a living wage. (Just for the sake of what I mean, I earn over $20 USD/hr, I work full time, and I live in Nebraska. My partner is the same as far as wages.)

This fall, my partner and I got our first house. It's 3 bedrooms, 2 bath, small but finished basement. It took a lot of negotiation and stress but with the help of an A+ realtor and loan expert, we got it. Yay!

Now, we were used to paying rent, but paying a mortgage was going to be almost double. This was fine, we could afford it. While we recover financially from some things we had to do (replace a deck, fix a cracked pipe, you know the usual) we have been a little more careful about our spending. Even with that though, we're still able to get groceries and eat at a restaurant once a week and buy holiday gifts for our friends and families. It might be a couple years until we can shell out for a little vacation, but that's okay.

My point here though is that... this is what it should be like for everyone. A two-income household should be able to get a decent little house and have a few fun luxuries and still have enough in savings if you need an emergency car or home repair or veterinarian bill or the like. A living wage needs to be more than just a roof over your head and food on your table. You should be able to invest in things that make you happy (like a nice bike or video game console) and things that make life easier (like a toaster oven or snowblower).

We both work desk jobs. It's stressful but we can work from home and that also saves money. But for everyone in every kind of job, or even if you can't work, you should still be able to live. And that's why it's important to support higher wages, better disability support, and universal basic income. Everyone deserves the opportunity to be happy and feel safe and secure.

So when you see local petitions out to raise the minimum wage, when you see workers striking for an income they can actually live on, and when you see measures that will help people on the ballot, remember that when you support them, things DO change for the better.

[20dollarlolita]

silly question but I wouldn't know who else to ask: Does having too much lace and poofiness ever interact badly with your wheelchair? I know most chairs have a shield between the wheel and the seat but it seems like the overflow could get damaged or stuck and this is something I'd like to consider before I start buying things

Oh, it's absolutely a thing I have to deal with. Most of the time, I'll drape my skirt over my side guards for the sake of taking a picture, and then tuck it back in before I go somewhere.

So pictures like this, I'm definitely going to protect the dress again before we move anywhere.

This specific wheelchair has low profile side guards, because I get my wheelchairs off ebay and that's what the person I got it from had. If I ever order a new chair for me, I'd probably want to get taller guards with a fender on the top. With the kind of clothes that I wear, I'd be willing to pay some extra to get some additional protection. (That said, I'm hopefully not going to ever buy myself a brand new chair since this one's great, already been around for over a decade, and works just fine for me. One of my favorite things about lolita fashion is how much we respect and reuse older things, and that's something that is also part of my life in other ways. We still have hopes of me being able to recover and get back into walking again so I don't want to spend a ton of money on something when I have a thing that's working fine.)

Most arm rests do have some form of protection between the wheel and the clothing, so those are an option as well. I've found that I personally don't like having arm rests, but you can have both clothing protection and arm rests.

The normal way that I tend to have my stuff tucked is to push as much as I want under my legs, and then to shove the extra fullness behind my back. This lets the skirt still look good but also stay out of the way.

Also you can see how I extended my side guards with some fabric-covered timtex that velcros into the chair. Those are actually the exact same guards as I have on the new machine, but you can see how they look a lot shorter. This is because the wheels on this chair are at a different height relative to the frame, versus my current chair. There are things that I could have done to adjust the side guards, like moving them forward. However, by the time that I replaced that wheelchair, the frame was just too narrow for me, so I could move those side guards wherever I wanted and would still be touching the wheels.

So yeah, there's definitely concerns about wearing very voluminous skirts and using a wheelchair at the same time. I try to keep my chair width pretty tight, because I pretty much exclusively self-propel and I like the access to the wheels. I know that a lot of guides for buying wheelchairs say to get a few extra inches of width beyond your physical body measurement, and that would probably make things easier in terms of clothes. I think that the two-post flip-back arm rests on the first chair I used (which is this one and it's pretty good in my experiance) actually protected my clothes a bit better than my current side guards. However, all of the things that made it better for lolita fashion made me like it best as a main means for propelling myself around the world. Extra space and arm rests are really good when other people push you, so that's a thing to consider. At the end of the day, I just got a chair that let me be as independent as I could, and then figured out how to do the lolita part in post.

Little rant time: One of the things that drives me crazy is when people who aren't disable the way I'm disabled try to make lolita rules for people who are disabled like I'm disabled. Usually it's people who do mean well, making statements like, "I think that EGL coords only look good with heeled shoes," and then add things like, "Unless you're disabled and can't wear heels." The person who's saying that thinks that they're being more accepting of disability in the fashion, but what they're actually doing is making a separate set of rules for the disabled to follow. However, people who are disabled are actually pretty aware of what our limitations and abilities are, and we're usually pretty used to problem solving when it comes to these things. I can use a combination of knowing where and what I'm doing and how I'm feeling on any given day to pick footwear that is both safe and appropriate for my given setting. I don't really need a stranger on Rufflechat to try to make separate rules for me without knowing that. Quick tip to people wanting to be accepting of disability in lolita: find disabled lolitas and listen to them. <NOTE: that heels comment is an example opinion and is not at all commonly accepted lolita opinions>

[banzaitaka]

I had this in my drafts for a long time. Started writing it when I was on my period and needed comfort.

Shall I make something more outta this?? Gimme your thoughts

Reader is:

-ftm trans (he/him)

-hyena beastman

-octavinelle student

-introverted

Azul, Jade and Floyd are gonna be your frens in this, eventually. Platonic, fluff, comfort.

___

(Y/N) dreaded his monthly week of red and dysphoria the moment he got the news he was going to NRC, even more than he already did. At first it actually started off as the usual mix of fear and excitement. Excitement because he actually got to go to a boys school, and fear mostly because of his social anxiety. After a bit of looking through the internet though, he couldn't really find information on transgender students attending that specific college.

Didn't mean there weren't any at all, but surely it wasn't enough to actually normalize certain things...Like buying pads, which is where the dread kicked in. It was hard enough for him to enter a store all by himself, but then going up to the counter of the school store and asking for period products? In a boys school?

And like the teen has feared, he was quivering, curled up in a ball in the corner of his dorm room. It must've been either luck or fate that gave him his own room. Although the roommates he could've had might've been that one group he needed as mental support during this horrible time. That group could've called him masculine terms, refilled his hot-water bottle for him, got him those damn pads he was slowly running out off...

That group would've been a blessing, truly. Knowing it could've also went the oppisite way, though, made (Y/N) not sad about sharing his room with his plushies, and his plushies only. It was easier for him to sleep alone in a smaller room anyways.

The bitter aftertaste of being given a separate room because he was trans, without questioning if it was necessary, was ignored as best as possible. It was somewhat disappointing, but there were perks in it too. And leaving it as an act meant well was feeling better at the time being.

Only when the actual pads were replaced with a bunch of toilet paper, (Y/N) counted the money in his wallet. NRC was clearly not transphobic, but the possible humiliation was steadily crawling around in the back of his mind. Honestly, the last thing he wanted was people finding out about him being transgender. Not because he was ashamed of it, he was actually very open about it back in the Shaftlands, his confidence about anything regarding himself was just not existing at that time. Any unwelcomed comment could shape his view on himself to the worst.

If only he had friends in this school full of strangers.

He had gotten know his dormmates, sure, but spoken he only had to three of them. Properly, I mean. They came straight from under the sea, switched out their tails and tentacles with human legs. Of course, they had to get used to walking first. Learn how to walk, to be more specific, seeing as none of them came to the surface before enrolling.

The help they received from the school only provided improvement, but that still didn‘t prevent all tripping or knees giving in.

(Y/N) actually made it his mission to try and catch them as often as he could. And once the headmage saw him executing that task, the hyena became their unofficial guide. No job interview or anything. It wasn‘t all that difficult nor time consuming since there were actually professionals working with the mermen, though. So that was a good thing. The pressure was bearable.

Their names were quickly saved in his brain, there was no way he would allow a mix up. Azul, silver hair, glasses. Jade, sharp eyes, highlight on the left side. Floyd, dog eyes, highlight on the right side. That was his personal Quizlet.

It wasn't difficult to get along with those three. Being quick to sort people into different personality categories really helped. Jade seemed to be alright with most approaches, being watched was the only dislike point (Y/N) noted in bold font. Azul seemed to be against accepting mere favors from others. (Y/N) proposed getting a written compliment for everything he helped him with. Which really seemed to help him for the most part.

And Floyd, now Floyd was the toughest one. Though (Y/N) was able to relate to his mood swings and lack of motivation, that didn't really help him deal with it. He had no idea how to make walking any more fun, didn't know how to bring in a new element to reawake the merman's excitement for his new limbs. So he just lets him be whenever he didn't feel like it. Floyd seemed very interested in running and jumping around, letting him just lay or sit around wasn‘t going to have a bad impact.

And that's pretty much all the involvement they had with each other. Besides the occasional greeting, information exchange and chase around the school ground.

So not even they were on the list of people to ask for aid...

There was nothing and no one else to turn to, he knew that, stuffing his wallet in his bag and reapplying his perfume. Being seen buying period products is one thing, but having a fellow beastman smell it? He never felt so lucky being a beastman, or else he might've been under even more stress, wondering if they knew.

Take a deep breath, (Y/N), you got this.

The dress shoes of the dorm uniform weren‘t comfortable on his feet. If it wasn‘t for the satisfying click clack of their heels (and the dress code), he would‘ve thrown them straight into the trash. Why did they have to wear uniforms at any time besides sleeping? Dorm uniforms were cool, but come on. Isn‘t this the time for relaxing? At least the usual uniform was pretty bendable. Though not all teachers clearly didn‘t appreciate all types of styles, it was allowed to bring your own taste into it.

He remembered seeing a fellow freshman wear a hoodie under his jacket, seemed a little too warm, but certainly looked nice. Oh, or a junior who ditched the jacket completely and paired it with sandals.

(Y/N) was still figuring out how he was going to style his uniform himself. A balance between comfortable and certified by as many teachers as possible seemed like a good bet, if it wasn‘t so difficult to achieve.

-

One year later, this already looked much different.

(Y/N) curled into himself, breath shaky and quite as another cramp overcame him. His fangs dug deep into his bottom lip, providing no release to the pain, however. A soft knock on the door made the male slowly open his eyes, eyebrows still furrowed in a frustrated groan. His eyes were only met with the wall at his bed, darkened due to the little light illuminating the room.

"Ye.", he squeaked out, hoping it was loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door.

The light from outside the dorm room spilled into the room, shining and revealing a tall shadow. The hyena didn't have to turn around to know it was Jade. He could smell the moray's cologne and the hot chocolate.

"You seem to still be in a lot of pain. Are you sure you don't want something to provide heat?", he stepped into the room, catious not to step on or kick any of the plushies that fell onto the ground due to (Y/N)'s thrashing. He placed the mug on the nightstand, before leaning over the male a bit to search for his face.

(Y/N) shook his head, "You guys did so much for me already. I can handle it from here."