#Tire and Loading Information Labels

[recallsdirect]

Vehicle Recall: Mercedes-Benz Metris Commercial Vans:

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[wandascrush]

Traitor

Warnings: angstttt, betrayal, arguments, romantic tension, very stressful situations, lying, toxic Nat ngl, allusions to sex

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Wanda Maximoff x f!reader, Avengers x f!reader

A/N: Part 6 of my DIWK series! Summary: The truth always has a way of coming out- and todays the day

Fast forward four months 

   The wind blew fiercely against your window as you awoke, sensing an unusual tension in the air—a buzz, as if nature itself was angry. You fluffed your shaggy h/c hair and swung your tired legs out of the warm bed, extricating yourself from the comfortable embrace of a woman’s arm wrapped around your waist. Not just any woman, but Natasha Romanoff—the world’s greatest assassin, a highly skilled martial artist, and your girlfriend. Well, kind of. She didn’t want to label it, and you’d gotten used to that. Things with Wanda had fizzled out, and she was now one of your closest friends. Stability was slowly but surely creeping back into your life.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling you from your morning trance. An encrypted message from Agent Hill: another file to drop off at the HYDRA data server and report back. No pleasantries, no reassurances. The anxiety that once clouded your mind about this operation had dissipated over the months. You had grown confident in your skills, so close to the finish line now. You just needed one more piece of information about a new serum they were developing—something about a super-soldier project. Deliver that, and you would be officially done with HYDRA, Samantha, and all the vile people who worked there. A free agent—literally.

You pulled the file from its folder, reviewing the intel they provided this time. Not bad, surprisingly.

You dressed slowly, your legs sore from prior activities with your “girlfriend.” Natasha’s sleeping form rustled in the sheets before settling, a gentle huff of breath escaping her lips.

At the base, you navigated the winding corridors, each step echoing louder than the last. The data server room was buried at the heart of the building, and each doorway you passed felt like a checkpoint in a prison. Fluorescent overhead lights buzzed, casting a stark, sterile glow that complemented the coldness of the place. Reaching the server room, you slid your ID across the panel, entering as the heavy door hissed shut behind you.

The space was mostly empty, save for the hum of servers and the dull glow of screens casting eerie shadows. A lone technician glanced up at you, nodding in acknowledgment. You were well-known by now—both for your envied operation and proximity to HYDRA’s high command.

You approached one of the terminals, connected your encrypted drive, and waited as it loaded the contents onto their system. But as you watched the file transfer, doubt crept in. How many more lies before they caught up with you? Were they already catching up, and maybe you didn’t know it?

The file finished transferring. You removed your drive, pocketing it quickly. Turning to leave, you caught the technician watching you from the corner of your eye, his gaze lingering a moment too long. You met his eyes and offered a quick nod, concealing the flicker of alarm you felt as he turned back to his work.

Returning to the compound that afternoon felt like a relief. As you stepped into your hall, orange shadows of the sun creeping in through the glass walls, the quiet was broken by a familiar voice.

��Back so soon?”

Natasha’s slid into your view like silk. She was leaning against the wall in the corridor, arms crossed, her expression unreadable—as per usual.

You tried to keep your face neutral, but her sharp gaze seemed to peel back every layer you’d carefully constructed. “Mission ended earlier than expected,” you replied.

She arched an eyebrow, gaze narrowing slightly. “Right. Just strange. Fury usually sends the rest of us a notice when someone’s out. And you leave me a note. Or text.”

“It was classified,” you shrugged, trying to deflect, hoping she wouldn’t probe further.

Natasha’s smirk softened, but her gaze didn’t waver. She stepped closer, her presence intense. “You’ve been slipping away a lot lately, honey,” she murmured, her tone low. “Everyone’s noticed.” Her beautiful green eyes bore into you, calculating your every expression.

There was no accusation in her words, only an edge of curiosity. But the weight of the lies began to press down, your chest tightening with the guilt you’d tried so hard to ignore. “It’s not like that, Nat,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, her fingers grazing your arm—a touch that felt like both an anchor and a pull. “Then what’s it like?”

For a heartbeat, you wanted to tell her. Instead, you swallowed the words, your throat tightening. “You know how this job is, Tasha. It’s complicated.”

A flicker of something—hurt, maybe—crossed her face before she masked it, letting her hand fall away. She stepped back, crossing her arms again. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

She scoffed, “Doesn’t seem that way.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it.” You squeezed past her, accidentally bumping her shoulder as you did.

Her hand caught yours. “You know I can help, right? Whatever it is.”

You forced a half-smile, “Not this time, honey.”

Natasha held your gaze for a moment longer before nodding, though the air between you felt strained, taut with the things left unsaid. She turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the dim corridor, the weight of her words lingering.

You stared at the ceiling, Natasha’s words looping in your mind. Everyone’s noticed. You wondered if that included Wanda. The thought of her finding out, of her piecing together the truth, was terrifying. She’d already uncovered your family’s past—if she found out everything else…

You didn’t want to think about it.

About twice a week, Natasha would come and sleep in your room, especially after tough training days or a bad mission. Tonight? She didn’t so much as text you. Ouch.

The cold floors at 3 a.m. felt soothing as you walked to the kitchen to grab a drink, catching sight of Wanda curled up on the couch, staring out the window.

Her expression was unreadable.

“Wanda?” you asked, the surprise clear in your voice.

“I couldn’t sleep again,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze was intense, searching your face as though trying to read every unspoken thought.

You grabbed two juices from the fridge, crossing the room to sit beside her. For a moment, neither of you spoke; the silence was thick.

“It was two years yesterday that I held his,” she began, her voice hesitant. “I… I didn’t even remember.”

You glanced down, your hands twisting together as you gathered your thoughts. “I know,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to remind you, since you didn’t mention it.” Wanda adored her brother, and you adored her. You didn’t want to worsen her pain by adding a reminder. 

    Her hand reached out, covering yours, her touch warm and steady. “I visited his grave earlier,” she swallowed, “left a small baby’s breath bouquet.” “It’s always only one bouquet, but today when I visited him- there were already flowers there.”

  You didn’t know if you should also mention that you left flowers, but when you looked up, Wanda’s eyes were already staring into yours. Her gaze softened, and you felt the pull again, that magnetic connection that made your friendship feel impossible sometimes.

“Wanda…” 

She gingerly brushed a strand of hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. 

“Now your hair is perfect.”

“It’s always perfect, witchy.” 

Her cheeky white smile glowed in the darkness. 

   The next few days most of your training was done with Peter, Clint, or Steve, completely ruling out the possibility of any more relationship messiness. The tension with Natasha, the fragileness you held with Wanda—it was all starting to pull at the threads of your mind once again.

You will never forget that day. That was the day your life changed forever. You often think of what might’ve been, if you hadn’t joined the avengers and all. Just stayed as a high level SHIELD agent. 

Maybe it all would’ve been fine, if not for that Thursday. That stupid fucking Thursday. And for Nick Fury. But you didn’t know all that yet. 

   You swiftly moved through the hallways on your way to meet Bruce in the lab, your mind elsewhere, when a familiar rasp called your name. 

“Y/N.”

You turned to see Natasha, her gaze sharp, expression unreadable. She nodded toward one of the empty conference rooms. “We need to talk.”

You followed her inside, the silence between you thick with unspoken words. You felt like a little kid in trouble with the principal. When the door shut, she turned to you, her arms crossed, her stance tense.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, her tone steady but laced with frustration.

Your heart pounded, every instinct screaming to deflect, to lie. But standing there, facing Natasha’s intense gaze, the walls you’d built felt paper-thin.

“I…No.”

She took a step closer, her voice soft but firm. “Y/N, I don’t know what’s going on, but I will find out.”

The intensity in her gaze, the determination, left you breathless. She was offering you an out, a lifeline, but taking it would mean unraveling everything. You were practically at the finish line. 

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the compound’s alarm blared, cutting through the tension. Natasha’s gaze flickered to the door, her expression shifting to frustration. 

“Of course,” she muttered, looking back to you. 

She turned and left the room, leaving you standing there, your chest tight and burning. 

    The mission had been going well until you were cornered in a tight hallway by a mercenary, his face hidden by a tactical helmet and wielding a blade that gleamed under the dim light. You threw up an arm to block his initial swing, but he was relentless, landing a hit to your side that knocked the breath from you. Blood trickled from a cut on your arm, but you pushed through, angling for a counterattack.

    Before you could make another move, a blast of red energy hit from behind, sending the attacker flying into a wall. Surprised, you turned to see Wanda, her hands crackling with energy. She stepped between you and the mercenary, red tendrils floating around his head before he fainted. 

“Thought you might need a hand,” she said, her tone light, but her eyes betrayed the worry simmering beneath.

You forced a smile, though your pride ached at her interference. “I had it under control.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push it. She held your gaze a moment longer, “Sure you did, L/N.” 

Before you could answer, Natasha’s voice crackled through the comms. “Y/N, Wanda—stop messing around and regroup. Now.”

Her tone was clipped, cold, and even through the comms, you could feel the chill.

You two shared a quick, slightly guilty glance before moving back to rejoin the others. Throughout the rest of the mission, Natasha barely looked at you, and when she did, her expression was hardened, her gaze flicking quickly between you and Wanda with a disapproving edge.

Back at the compound, you found Natasha in the common area, gathering her gear with sharp, precise movements. You hovered nearby, hoping to talk, to get a hint of what was going on, but she barely acknowledged you.

“Nat,” you started, your voice soft.

“What?” Her tone was harsh, her eyes narrowing. “Something you need?”

You faltered, caught off guard by the bite in her voice. “I… I just wanted to check if you were okay.”

She scoffed, a cold smirk pulling at her lips. “That’s rich. Last I saw, you were the one who needed backup. I didn’t realize Wanda was your personal rescuer.”

The words hit like a slap, the sting of her jealousy clear. You opened your mouth to respond, but she cut you off, grabbing her bag and shouldering it without a glance in your direction. You tried to lighten the mood, “A little jealous, Romanoff?” Although you were teasing, the joke came out so soft, genuine. You gently touched the small of her back, gazing at her with worried eyes. 

“Let’s not pretend this is anything more than a job, Y/N,” she said, voice low and unyielding- she shifted out of your touch. “That way, you won’t get distracted.”

“I think we should continue our conversation from earlier-,” you were cut off before you finished your sentence 

“And what if I don’t want to talk? Ever thought about that?” 

“Earlier you said you were here for me, that I’m not alone. I don’t understand, you know I care about you. Just talk to me-,” you hadn’t anticipated the crack in your voice at the end, catching Natasha’s attention, but of course, only for a second.

She packed her bag faster. 

“Natasha please-”

“Enough!” Her loud voice bounced off the walls. 

“So what are we then? We sleep together, we share a bed, you care about me- I know you do. So what is this?”

Natashas jaw clenched, and when her eyes looked at you, they held something you’d never seen, “It’s just sex, Y/N.  Grow up. It’s what adults do.” 

She rushed past you, shoulder bumping yours, leaving you standing there. Wounded and more confused than ever- the Romanov specialty. 

As you entered a new log into your journal that night, spilling your heart about HYDRA, Wanda, Natasha, a knock sounded on your door. For once, you just wanted to be left alone. You threw the journal under the covers, running to the bathroom.

You poked your head out of the door, “In the shower, can’t talk!” You hoped it was loud enough for whatever guest to go away. It wasn’t. 

  As the scent of vanilla and citrus soap slid down your skin, rubbing any grime away and relaxing your muscles, Wanda walked into your room. She figured she’d just wait to talk with you once you got out of the shower, plopping herself down on your bed. However, as soon as she sat, something hard and stiff was felt under her, something very uncomfortable. Wanda slightly lifted herself off of the bed, blindly moving her hand around for the stiff object- finding a small journal. It was a dark red, canvas cover. Your initials were etched into the bottom right corner. 

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the sight of Wanda sitting on the edge of your bed, her hands trembling, sent a chill down your spine. Your journal lay face down on the floor, its secrets exposed. Droplets from your wet hair trickled down your back, the cold seeping through your pajamas and onto the wooden floor. The room was thick with silence. 

Wanda’s eyes, wide and glistening, locked onto yours. Her voice, barely above a whisper, broke the tension. “How long?” The weight of her question pressed heavily upon you.

Your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears. The walls seemed to close in, the air growing thin. You opened your mouth, searching for words, but found none.

Wanda’s gaze hardened, a mixture of hurt and betrayal evident. “All this time… ” Her voice cracked, the pain palpable.

You took a tentative step forward, hands outstretched in a plea. “Wanda, I can explain—”

But she recoiled, as if your very presence burned. “Explain? How can you possibly explain this?” She gestured towards the fallen journal, her movements sharp and erratic, “It’s you. You’re the traitor, you’re the mole,” she glared at you accusingly. The red glow in her eyes grew with each second. 

Desperation clawed at you. “I  was told to lie. Ask Fury he put me—”

“Fury? Are you serious?” she interrupted, her tone dripping with disdain. “Was any of it real? Or was I just another pawn?”

You shook your head vehemently, “No, Wanda, you have to believe me. My feelings for all of you are genuine.”

She stood abruptly, red wisps crackling from her fingers, “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” 

   Before you could utter another word, the door swung open with a resounding thud. Natasha stood in the doorway, her face a mask of cold fury. Behind her, Steve and Tony loomed, their expressions grim. Natasha’s voice was icy, each word laced with venom. “Is it true? Have you been feeding information to HYDRA?”

Your knees threatened to buckle under the weight of their collective gaze. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand upright. “It’s not what it seems. I was working undercover, on Fury’s orders. I was a SHIELD agent before an Avenger, you guys know this.”

Tony scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Convenient excuse. Got any proof?”

You reached into your pocket, fingers trembling, and producing your phone. “Call him! Ask him. Fury will tell you everything, promise.”

Steve stepped forward, grabbing your phone out of your hand- crushing it. His eyes, usually filled with warmth, were now cold and distant. “Your promises mean nothing to us anymore, Agent.”

Tony stepped further into the room, all of them cornering you, “Besides, Fury’s off grid with Maria. We just got the call.” He sucked his teeth, “But if  you two worked as closely as you say, you would’ve known before us.” The bite in Tony’s words wasn't missed. 

Fuck. 

As they turned to leave, you dove for your notebook on the ground, picking it up and practically shoving it toward Steve, “This! Read this!” ragged breaths left your mouth, “everything that’s been going on is in it. From the first day.”

Steve glanced at you warily, looking back at Natasha, “Can we trust this?” 

The redhead’s gaze toward you was icy, completely void of emotion. Your eyes pleaded with her. She didn’t care. 

“Absolutely not.” 

[circeyoru]

Love love love unwanted soul soo much. I really wonder, does the rest of the residents NEVER ask anything about reader and alastor's relationship?? Like even if they're scared of him and that he always insisted that they just have a normal boss-employee relationship, they're way too close. Mostly because reader has passed all of Al's personal space.

I think Husk would be the most suspicious about it, since he is one of the souls Al owns. And the way reader casually orders and asks Al to do lots of things. But Vaggie would be braver to confront Alastor. Maybe Charlie would probably also ask more, because she wants reader to participate more and Al to not give them too much work load even though they don't look tired at all. And more suspicion would arise because how does reader have connection to Lucifer as well??

Thank you for your love!!

Haha~ Curious about others' reaction huh? They asked. But I only did minor parts about their involvement because the focus was on the Reader/you and Alastor.

An ask similar to this one has been answered, but this is them knowing your relationship.

Everyone notice you being extremely close to Alastor, even when it's strictly labelled as boss and worker. They know it's not normal because you were too chill with Alastor and Alastor was too lenient to you as well.

They questioned and got suspicious of your sudden appearance. Even more when you had a connection with Lucifer. The King of Hell's former informant is working for Alastor? What's going on???

The only one to see you before your introduction was Husk. He saw you in the room Alastor claimed as extra, that room was already decorated like you lived there for a while. It was way too cozy. He is also the only one to see you directly ordering (asking) Alastor to do something and he went as told. He would have labeled you to be the one holding Alastor's leash, but you said Alastor was the one to bring you here. (technically it's not a lie) Then there was your weak aura and power levels. No way someone like you can bring down Alastor. When you had a former business relationship with Lucifer, he was pointing you to be the owner of Alastor's soul, even when it was unlikely.

Husk can read people like an open book, right? He can do the same to you and he knew you were a wild card, perhaps another worse case like Niffty's. But, he doesn't question it. Because if you were to feel threatened by Husk, Alastor would do something to him. It wasn't worth it.

Niffty doesn't question it at all. More demons in the hotel! That's it. A friend of Alastor's a friend of hers.

Angel also doesn't question it. Though he does mimick what you do to get Alastor to react the same. When it's different, he whines about it and makes a scene. Only for Alastor to say you have more leniency because you were his employee and he had his duty as employer to keep. That mostly shuts Angel up.

Vaggie is the one to voice out her concerns for your lack of presence to Alastor without fear. Demanding that you work out in the open and not behind closed doors. Mostly, you weren't there to hear this and heard it from Alastor. On the rare moments that you were, you'd say it's up to Alastor to assign you where you work and not her or Charlie. Alastor handles from there on out. He puts the employer and employee card on the table and always got Vaggie to back down. She can't do much when you didn't object to Alastor's words and nodded along. When Vaggie questions what Alastor does, you step in to tell Vaggie it wasn't her business, as long as it wasn't to harm or threaten the hotel and Charlie's dream. Last resort, Alastor (through your approval) threatens to leave the project and bringing along Husk and Niffty too.

Charlie is another one that's questioning too much. You were the newest member but you were barely around. Even though Alastor doesn't join and he's under no obligation to. You can join. I mean, Husk and Niffty joins too. One loophole though, you weren't like those two, you were to work under Alastor as his assistant of sorts. You weren't under Charlie's command. So she had no power over where you were stationed. You and Alastor used this little detail to your advantage. Charlie always bring up new ideas and excuses to get you to join them, but you were rare present and Alastor was a wall she can't overcome. Too perfect for the two of you.

The fact that you were that close with Alastor raises a lot of questions, and Alastor doing things for you? Even more questions and suspicion as well. But Alastor is capable of protecting you from prying eyes and nosy demons like this group. You staying in the hotel wasn't a must, but an interest. Anymore annoyance and you'll be gone. So will Alastor.

[scientia-rex]

Do you have thoughts about dealing with your ADHD without medication? I'm in Europe where the laws are different and its haaaaard to access meds. (Immigration is very bad for consistent health care)

Yeah, I mean, caffeine. Caffeine in the mornings and propranolol if I overdo it or have too much caffeine after 1pm. Caffeine has a variable half-life depending on your genetics, so for some people they can have caffeine within about 4-5 hours of trying to sleep and for me if I have it within 9 hours of when I want to sleep I'm a little fucked. (5-9 hours is a relatively typical range for half-life.) Caffeine has active metabolites, which means that as your body processes it to break it down it creates different molecules which are still stimulants, so it's not as simple as "caffeine in, break it down, inert molecule out." You also need to be aware that your brain WILL develop tolerance, so taking drug holidays where you have a chaotic, disorganized day will help when you go back to work.

Another alternative is Strattera, generic name atomoxetine, which gets marketed as a "non-stimulant" ADHD medication. In my opinion it does still have stimulant qualities and the classification has more to do with legal status than medical reality. However, it does have a tendency to cause nausea, so I usually start people low (10mg) and ramp up to 80-100mg, which is target range for efficacy for most people. It doesn't seem as effective as the stimulants but it also doesn't have the legal implications of the stimulants.

Wellbutrin, generic name bupropion, is an antidepressant, but it's not the same as SSRIs or SNRIs--it has its own combination of effects on neurotransmitters that makes it a cousin rather than a sibling drug. It can be used (off-label) for ADHD.

In terms of other things I do to help myself cope, setting and maintaining a sleep schedule is critical. I definitely always feel like I'm being asked to wake up at the equivalent of 3am for other people. This means I need to make sure I go to bed and get up at consistent times, including days off. Bed needs to be for sleeping and intimacy and not for being activated--not for reading, not for hanging out. "Sleep hygiene" is about training your brain that when you go to bed, you go to sleep. The bedroom needs to be quiet, cool, and dark. You can Google sleep hygiene for more information on that.

Learning how to learn was critical for surviving med school. I didn't struggle that much with the material even in grad school, though I was more miserable overall in grad school. The sheer volume meant I couldn't just read everything once and figure enough would stick; I had to read, listen, watch, and eventually I figured out that I really needed to draw pictures and make myself flash cards if I wanted to actually force my brain to retain anything. Making sure I was physically comfortable, including that I was fed, hydrated, and didn't have to pee, was also part of the process. Getting there involved lots of tears and failing multiple tests.

Cleaning can't be an all or nothing proposition or nothing ever gets cleaned. When I start cleaning, I just grab whatever I'm walking by that catches my attention. Fuck doing whole tasks at a time consistently. Move those three bowls to the sink, in the kitchen realize I need to take out the recycling, take out the recycling and realize on the way back in that I have a load of laundry to start, start the laundry and realize I need to pee, while I'm in the bathroom realize I need to clean the counter, clean the counter and realize I need to take out the bathroom trash, take out the bathroom trash and realize I still didn't pee, continue until I'm too tired and then sit down and have a snack and a nap. My house is still a black hole but it's infinitely better than my apartments when I was younger.

Accepting that you can't do things the neurotypical way is a big part of it. Giving up on how things "should" be and recognizing what you can do and how you can do it is critical. I will never stop crashing into things so I've bought rounded furniture that hurts less when I crash into it. I'm slowly designing a life and a home where I'm playing to my strengths, and although it's a work in process, I'm slowly becoming happier.

[dwau-repentance-pages]

Routine

Summary: Boxten goes through the motions of what his everyday now looks now

Characters: Boxten, Tisha, Poppy, Looey, Shirmpo and Cosmo

> These are oneshots that are connected!!

It's hazy.

| 07:00 AM

The static fills his brain, making his vision blurry. All sensible thoughts seem out of touch and unimportant. The things on his desk become irrelevant for a few seconds. He's numb besides the warmth. He welcomed these seconds of unclarity and fuzzy–confusion. It was the only time when the stress of everything lightened.

Everything leaves as quickly as it arrives. This has been happening more frequently lately. He wouldn’t tell the other toons—everyone was busy. He was busy, too, as moving from the sidelines to the main stage was difficult as is.

Boxten lifts his head from the desk, unaware that he ever put it down. The papers were now sprawled over his desk. Everything from the research of the Ichor to the locations of the remaining five toons. He usually keeps these in organized piles due to his paranoia, but they recently found Finn. The familiar purple and blue walls surrounding him remind him he was in his room, which was where he also did his research work.

“Oh, right.” He mumbled to himself.

The lights turning on make him turn his head. Tisha stood at his door with a soft–and tired–smile.

“Hello, Boxten! You're awake; I wish you slept more,” Tisha greeted as she moved towards him. The music box hums as she takes the now empty cup.

“Yeah… I always had a problem with sleeping… um, have you seen anyone else yet?” He asks, watching Tisha come over to his desk.

“I have! Looey is up early, making breakfast for the toons like he always is, and Poppy believes she's found a lead on Astro.” Tisha informs, helping to reorganize his desk.

They reorganize his belongings. Papers are smoothly put into several piles of topics and categories. His pencils are sharpened and put back into his white mug, and his trash is emptied. Boxten gets up, adjusting his sweater. “Thank you Tisha… I'd be lost without your help.”

Tisha smiles, helping him out of his room. The blank and tattered walls of the old sleeping wing greet him as he walks to the kitchen. Looey’s careful with the knife as he cuts the fruits into bowls for the toons in recovery.

“Ah, hello, Boxten, Tisha, good morning!” Looey smiles, labeling the bowls. The balloon toon smiles, handing Tisha a smaller bowl with her favorites. Boxten wasn't a breakfast person, but Looey still gave him a plate of apple slices.

“Thank you!” Tisha hums as she grabs a fork from the drawer. Her bowl was filled with cuts of pineapple, grape, and cantaloupe.

“Oh! You didn't have to…” Boxten mutters. However, Looey is already waving him off.

“I wanted to.” Looey firmly spoke. He was a very determined toon–stubborn is what Teagan called him. It didn't matter what others thought he would do what he believed in.

Looey sat across from Tisha, eating his bowl of fruit, which consisted only of apple slices and pineapple.

Boxten nods, eating the few apple slices he was given. The silence was a comfortable one while they ate. Soon, their dishes were washed by Tisha, and Boxten helped Looey load up the dish dolly.

“I'll… I'll take this to Cosmo,” Boxten tells Looey, who nods and pushes the dolly toward the sleeping quarter's room. Tisha waves them goodbye, beginning her daily rounds with Looey.

Boxten gets lost in thought, letting his body find the enclosed medicine room on autopilot. The toon swipes the card, allowing the door to open with a swish.

He's quiet like Cosmo likes due to the toon's high anxiety about everything since the Inchor incident. Speaking of Cosmo, he's bandaging his arm. The wrapping is slow as his eyes meet Boxten's.

It's an uncomfortable silence before Cosmo breaks it.

“Razzle and Dazzle,” Comso speaks up, gesturing to the bandages on his arm—one of many Cosmo has. He continues, “It's fine! I gave them the vaccine. However, the recovery process will be difficult since they were…” Cosmo stops, letting out a tired sigh. He's trying to hold back his tears.

“Ah…Cosmo,” Boxtens whispers, placing his bowl down. He hugs the smaller toon, letting him cry into his shoulder. It's a quiet cry, but Cosmo is shaking so much that the stress wafts off him.

Cosmo pulls back after a while, wiping his face. Boxten gently takes his arm, the deep hue of his blood uncleaned and bandaged poorly. Silently, he cleans the wound. Dabbing the soft cotton, then rewrapping his arm.

“...thank you,” Cosmo speaks up, his voice raspy.

“Of course… we're here for each other after all.”

Cosmo nods, turning to Boxten with a forced smile. His tired eyes speak louder than his words.

“I can handle this. They need us.”

Boxten can only agree silently. They couldn't break down under the pressure. They had to fix things. To help their friends. They'd do the same. It was so hard, but they were making progress with the stage three Twisteds so they couldn't crack just yet.

Cosmo left his breakfast untouched.

-

Boxten holds his clipboard and walks to P–ZONE or the preferred rooms. This zone had stage three Twisteds. He usually let them roam the whole area as they were friendly and passive. Some were further along in recovery than others, but it was nice to come here.

| 10:00 AM

He swipes his card, letting the staff-only doors open as he steps in. He slips through the small hallways, emerging from the other side. He guesses he was loud as familiar red and blue hands wrapped around his chest and pulled.

He softly collides with Goob's chest. The toon smiles brightly as he speaks, “Boxten! Are you here to check on us?”

Boxten chuckles, hugging the taller toon, “I am. I heard you gave Looey a hard time leaving.”

Goob looks away with a guilty smile.

“I did, but you guys have looked so tired lately! I cuddled him to sleep, and he was a bit upset afterward, but it was worth it!” Goob said unapologetically as he shared his warmth with the music box.

Boxtens pulls away slowly from the hug, his thumb grabbing his face to examine his eyes. “Your eyes are getting better.”

“They feel better, too!”

Boxten smiles as he pulls out his clipboard and a small flashlight.

“Okay, ready for your daily round?” Boxtens hums as Goob nods from the couch. Boxten turns the tiny flashlight on, moving it slowly from left to right. He watches as he focuses and follows his lead.

“Good…” Boxten mutters, writing down the progress. He pockets the flashlight before looking at the questions.

“What's your full name?”

“Goob Fluffy Craft”

“Who's your sister?”

“Scraps Paper Craft!”

The questions were simple but enough to challenge his memory. Boxten nods with a smile as he puts the board down.

“All done!” Boxten is interrupted as Goob hugs him again.

Scarps skips in as she kisses Goob’s forehead. This is why he worked so hard to help his friends recover so they can become themselves again. They'd all be alright soon.

“Alright, let's get to work.”

It's a slow process. Questions to check their memory, tests to check their mobility, and if the therapy Looey has been doing is helping. He packs up his tools when a gentle hand touches his shoulder.

“Ah… Teagan?” Boxten mumbles as he looks up at the older, taller toon.

She smiles as she hands him a pack of herbal tea–she remembered.

“Drink this before bed. You need it, sweetie,” She spoke softly.

“Thank you, I will,” He promised.

She was so sweet to him. He embraces her for a quick second. He'd keep his promise.

-

| 12:00 PM

He was currently on his way to the med bay where most stage two Twisteds resided. He promised Cosmo he'd do this today so the pastry toon could actually rest. He remembers the bandaids as he slips into the zone.

He greets Toodles first, “Toodles? Hello–”

Toodles finds him, her teeth biting into the skin of his forearm. He hisses as he pries her off, placing her down on the bed. The pounding of his arm and hiss of blood reminded him that he had more work to do.

“Hey… I found your plushie.” He paused as he pulled out the soft plush. Her tiny hands grab at the toy quickly as she calms down. He sighs in relief as he unwraps her bandages to place the new ones.

Toodles is silent as she hugs her long-lost toy. Her memory was hazy, but her love for it was not.

“All done; you can lay down now.”

She nodded as she laid her head on her pillow, clutching her plushie tightly. Her reddish eyes closed, welcoming sleep. As soon as he saw her fall asleep, Boxten quickly and quietly stepped out of the room, checking one item off his list.

Today was going to be long. He walked down the hallway, flipping to the next page while bandaging his arm.

-

Boxten chews on a protein bar as he stares at the computer. His head was beginning to spin as he looked at his current project.

| 03:00 PM

Shrimpo breaks down a crate of canned goods. His hands jotted down numbers.

“Did Dandy come by?” Boxten spoke up after a while.

“UGH! Of course not! I hate how he just left it here!” Shirmpo complained as he threw the wood away. Boxten nods, letting his eyes look down at the bolts and scrap metal in front of him.

“Do you wonder what's out there?” Boxten asked again.

There are a few beats of silence.

“I don't know. I HATE being stuck in here. I hate how Dandy tells us nothing. I know he's helping us, but I hate how he just disappears.” Shrimpo snaps, folding his arms.

“Yeah… I agree”

Shrimpo pauses, letting his arms fall to his sides.

“Wait, really?” Shrimpo asks, surprised.

“Yeah. It's hard… this job, I mean… everything is overwhelming, and then we are still learning as we go… it sucks, and I want Dandy to tell to us more,” Boxten explained, placing his half-baked project into a box. He should do something more productive.

“It sucks! I hate working this hard!” Shrimpo chided, turning back to the crates.

Boxten nods.

“I hate this.”

Boxten did, too.

-

They sit in the lounge, and the floor plans and statics sit on papers in front of the three.

| 07:00 PM

“I think there's a pattern to this,” Poppy muttered as she took a sip of her pop. Tisha had been by to make sure they were alright before going to do medication rounds.

“I hate this! The main Twisteds are nowhere to be seen. The last three expeditions have been useless!” Shrimpo groans as Poppy nods.

Going to do capsules for some reason kept the building alive and running. Due to that, they were constantly below the old Gardenview floors.

“I don't know! I think if we get to Astro's room, then we may have a chance at finding him.” Poppy adds.

Boxten nods, speaking “We could try it”

Shrimpo rolls his eyes, “Yeah, if we get the approval from Dandy.”

Poppy looks at Shrimpo with a tired sigh.

“I went down there today but we can't go get Astro unless we ask Dandy first.”

Boxten circles Dandy's name. He'll make a note to bring it up with the main who was also their manager. He knew Gardenview best so it made sense that he should run things.

He had their best interest at heart.

“Until then, we'll continue to keep the power running and the daily rounds” Boxten piped up, to which Poppy nodded to.

They would try if Dandy knew. After all, the main Twisteds were different. They were bigger and more dangerous.

They needed to wait to act.

“I'll go do final rounds. Try to get rest… the both of you” Boxten tells them which ends the meeting. Poppy's new bandaged leg reminds Boxtens of the work she puts in. Shrimpo looked away, but his sunken eyes were enough to tell how hard he was working.

Waiting was the scary part.

Boxten finished updating the paperwork and dropped it off at Cosmo's office and bedroom.

-

| 11:00 PM

"Have a good night," he bid the hardworking toon, who smiled back in response.

Boxten headed back to his own room, stifling a yawn. His hands found his pockets, and he pulled out the herbal tea that Teagan gave him.

He should make himself some tea.

He found himself in the kitchen, making tea quietly to avoid disturbing anyone. With his steaming mug in hand, he made his way back to his room.

Boxten sinks into his plush purple chair, enjoying the warmth of his herbal tea as he works. He places the empty cup by his computer, adding notes to his research.

The drowsiness slowly creeps into the back of his mind, blurring his focus on the paperwork. He tries to resist the pull of sleep, but his once-sure hand grows wobbly, and the words on the page begin to swim before his eyes.

A yawn escapes his lips as he struggles to hold the pencil. He forgets the paperwork, getting up from his desk.

He can feel his eyelids growing heavy.

Yeah, he'd use the bed today.

[girl-among-mts]

9. Celebrate

Rose was perhaps more judicious about the intel she’d uncovered than the New Alliance might have wanted. She was careful to send a majority of the informative files back to their assignment officer, but loaded the more sensitive reports onto her datachip, including the Commandant’s journal entries.

To her astonishment, she might have even found the vials of Micron-gel, though it was hard to tell. There were no labels, no markings of any kind, and the contents looked black rather than red. They’d been hidden in a compartment under the broken writing desk; she’d sawed it open with her vibroknife.

Stuffing her findings into her bag, she wriggled her way back into the crisp, Arkanis air. Hux was nowhere to be seen, though the speeder was still parked where they’d left it.

Maybe in the past she’d have been worried at his absence or felt a creeping uncertainty, not unlike loosing track of a krykna spider in your bunk. But Hux never strayed far.

Trekking up towards what would have been the Academy’s main hall, she spotted him on a crumbled rampart, staring out over the cliffs to the sea below. Their momentary respite from the planet’s storms was waning, darkening clouds casting him in dramatic low-light.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked without turning, hearing her footsteps on the stone.

“Yeah, um…” Rose shifted her stance, unsure how much Hux knew.

“Good,” he said, cutting off her hedging. “Then we may depart.”

There still wasn’t any concrete evidence that *he’d* been the baby mentioned in the project notes, but…

“There’s… nothing else you want to do? Before we leave?”

He turned to her then, looking tired; well-worn. “I can think of nothing more than... perhaps celebrating on the ashes.”

His words tugged at her heart.

“You… really hated it here, didn’t you.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line, tearing his gaze away to stare out over the sea once more.

“Everything that made me has its roots here, Rose. Everything I am. Everything I’ve done.” He smirked, though it was twisted and self-deprecating. “To think some lowly bastard child could achieve so many terrible things.” Quietly, he added, “Perhaps my father /was/ wrong about me.”

With that, he quit the rampart, brushing past her back towards the speeder.

Rose watched him go, a lump twisting in her stomach, before turning back to the darkening sky.

Carefully, she took out the datachip and vials, holding them in her hands. With resolve, she snapped the chip in half, tipping up on her toes to dump both it and the vials over the edge, watching their long descent down the cliff side.

They were so high, she could barely make out the delicate glass tubes smashing against the jagged rocks below, staining them an almost imperceptible dark red.

Then the ocean heaved, frothing pink against the rock, and dragged it all back out to sea.

[keyn-jender-bite]

The Evening has Truly Become The Night in this Big Dark City

part one part two part three

The education district was suspiciously quiet when I ascended from the subway platform. I myself never attended higher education, but it was my understanding that university kids liked to party, and party hard. There was nobody visibly or audibly partying anywhere in the vicinity this particular dark and foggy evening.

Did I fail to mention it had become quite foggy? Well, it had. It was the kind of ambient fog a rock-solid private dick like me just craves. We're creatures of the fog, private detectives. It's not just an aesthetic thing either. There's something casually magical about a nice, thick, pea-soup fog that gives us gumshoes strength.

I breathed it deep into my nostrils, pulled my collar up around my neck and began to slink towards campus.

The large brick buildings of the City University loomed darkly in the night, lit scarcely by lampposts, themselves haloed in the fog and surrounded by fluttering moths. My footsteps echoed on the cobbled sidewalks, splishing a little in the shallow puddles gathered between the bricks.

I didn't know exactly where I was going, but I figured I would know it when I saw it, and thankfully I didn't have to wander too long before saw it I did.

The sign in front of the building was slightly obscured by clinging ivy, but clearly enough I could read "Marvin Chestermarvin Laboratory for Applied Theoretical Electrics and Mysterious Plumbing." This must be the place. I circled the exterior, looking for a less obvious entrance than the front door, which might be a bit too conspicuous for the purposes of snooping around.

There are different kinds of snooping. The snooping I partake in is functionally and physically different from the type of snooping that a cat burglar might employ, for example. Their form of snooping usually involves more creeping, skulking and especially sneaking.

I don't skulk. I've never skulked in my adult life and you're not likely to ever find my skulking unless I've fallen on hard times and it's required of me for work. There but for the grace of God and paying clients go any of us.

Around the rear of the building I found the perfect entrance into which I might snoop appropriately. The Lab had a small loading dock with a corrugated lift gate through which I'm sure various pieces of equipment and pallets of raw materials were loaded in. These cheap style of gates were notorious for locking insufficiently, a weakness that I intended to exploit, and did.

Using a nearby crowbar I was able to lever the bottom of the gate up until I could spot the poorly-designed hook latch. Employing a nearby tire iron, I manipulated the hook out of its housing and raised the gate just enough for me to wriggle underneath it like a hag fish in a trench-coat.

I was in.

Fishing the small flashlight out of my coat pocket, I clicked it on with a flick of the button and slowly padded up the stairs of the loading dock, through a heavy steel door into the hallways proper.

The wide, tall halls were constructed of marble, with columns supporting the vaulted ceiling above. The classrooms and offices were clearly labeled with small copper plaques, announcing their room number and the typical use-case for the space within.

An eerie quiet permeated the dark halls. Ghostly light seeped in through the windows to cast wiggly reflections on the imperfect floor. I could nearly hear my own beating heart in the silence.

A placard informed me the theoretical electrician offices were up a floor, with an arrow pointing to a broad staircase. I crept up slowly, keeping my feet precise and muted.

At the top of the stairs was a T-junction. To the right was a large lab filled with esoteric equipment, the purposes of which completely eluded me. To the right was an office door, shut and mercifully labeled: "Dr. Morose, office hours M-W 9-3."

A quick try at the doorknob confirmed my suspicions, the office was locked. Surely it would pose no challenge for me and my little lock picking kit.

Kneeling in front of the door I slid my favorite pick into the key-way, employing a 2 thousandths thick turning tool and a slightly hooked wave rake. A bit of fiddling solved the problem with a gratifying "click", allowing the door to swing freely open with a slight creak.

The air inside Klevin's office was musty and stale, with a hint of something I couldn't yet place. The soft circle emanating from my flashlight prowled the walls and furniture, seeking out items of interest. It was all pretty stock stuff—a desk with a comfortable-looking chair, filing cabinets, book cases, etc.

"Where did you go, professor?" I asked under my breath, scrutinising the books and papers which littered the space. Exploring their desk, I thumbed through the notebooks and folders thereupon, seeing nothing of particular import.

Sliding the primary drawer open, a small black notebook caught my eye. I fished it out and flipped it open. it appeared to be a diary or journal of sorts.

Most of the entries were pretty banal stuff, notes about classes, students and faculty. Petty inter-departmental drama and the like. An entry towards the end of the book jumped out at me for the speed with which it looked to have been scrawled.

"September - I know I'm being followed now. I suspected as much but now I have proof. I don't know to whom I might confess this. I can't be sure who else is in on it. It might have to do with the grant? No. Don't be stupid Klevin, it's the work. It's the EMF Drive. He wants it. I should have known it was him. A and L mustn't know, they would spiral with worry. I have to find more proof before accusing him or I could be disbarred. Talk to JD, they might be able to help."

That was the last journal entry. I closed the book and sat in Klevin's chair, my brow crinkled. Maybe they had been kidnapped by a rival in the college? Were A and L Aurora and their other partner? Who is JD? What on Earth was the EMF Drive and why would somebody want it? And what was that smell?

It was strongest here, at their desk, especially in their chair.

"We warned you, Magistrate!" a harsh voice suddenly screamed from the open doorway.

My reaction time was just quick enough to save my life. I flipped backwards in the chair just as the pistol fired, clipping Klevin's desk and sending a stack of papers flying into shreds.

I ducked behind the large desk, keeping my head down and kneeling. I couldn't see who was in the door, but I could hear them pull the trigger of their gun and the unmistakable sound of a misfire.

"Cribbage!" they hissed, followed by the metallic sliding sounds of a revolver chamber ejecting for hasty inspection.

Now was my chance. I wasted no time, vaulting over the desk head first. In one swift motion, I grabbed a dusty apple sitting on the table top and threw it at the would-be assassin's head, just winging their shoulder.

It was just enough to distract them. "Erk!" they croaked, grabbing their arm and twisting.

I attempted to jump off the desk and punch them, but a small pile of ungraded essays slipped beneath my shoes, sending me forwards ungracefully directly into the bookshelf beside my attacker.

I crashed through three shelves, sending tomes, treatises and various novels spilling onto the floor and at the shadowy figure, who was still stunned.

I managed to kick one leg out from under the pile of books, knocking the gun from their hand. "Hey!" they complained.

"Come here you!" I commanded, trying once more to heave myself into their stomach, only to trip on the same apple I had thrown at them moments before and careen face first past them and down the flight of stairs outside of the office.

My body tumbled head over buttocks down the first flight of stairs where I gracefully collapsed into a heap of books and papers. Struggling to my feet, I was just able to look up to see the figure jumping at me from the top of the stairs, brandishing a large, serpentine dagger.

"Hoooo!" they yelled.

My self defense instincts kicked in and I executed an imperfect round-house kick, tripping on the slick marble floor and falling backwards to perfectly hit my head on the windowsill behind me before blacking out just in time.

When I came to, I was alive. I raised myself up on my elbows, to survey my surroundings. I was still in the stairwell, books and papers were still strewn everywhere. The attacker was suspiciously absent.

Clambering stiffly to my feet, the situation became abundantly clear as I spotted the vaguely person-shaped hole in the nearby window. I peered out the shattered pane to the pavement below. Absent from the pile of glass was a body of any kind, or any other trace of the shadowy figure.

I sat down and rubbed the back of my head where a sizeable goose egg was already growing. Now I had a sliver of an inkling as to what was going on. Some puzzle pieces were falling into place. The shadowy figure had been wearing a long, dark robe, obscuring their features and body. I finally recognized the mysterious smell in Klevin's office as tarragon. The curved knife the assassin wielded was all too familiar in form and function.

I thought he was long dead, but these were the calling cards of my oldest nemesis and his weirdo cultists.

It seemed Warlock Geoff was back in town.

[timeoverload]

I haven't had much to say lately. I go through the same routine pretty much every week. I feel like I am repeating myself over and over. I'm not very exciting. I also figured it's probably best if I stay quiet if I don't have anything positive to say. I don't like complaining all the time. I have been tired and grumpy and I haven't been sleeping enough. I have been doing my best not to project how I'm feeling because I don't want to bother anyone.

Typing is sort of difficult for me right now. I can't tell if my arthritis is flaring up or if I'm developing cubital tunnel syndrome. My right hand and arm hurt really bad right now. It's making it hard for me to get a grip on things. My ring finger and pinky are tingling. My ulnar nerve moves more than it's supposed to and gets trapped sometimes. My elbow snaps a lot when I bend it and it's loud. It has always been an issue for me but I try to deal with it. I don't think the weather is helping. I am going to do my best to ignore it and hopefully it will go away soon. I am doing everything I can to avoid going to the doctor for a while.

I have been busy as usual. My work-load has increased a lot but it always does this time of year. A new eye doctor started recently so I have had a lot more cases than usual. The past few days have been very stressful because we have been installing a new computer system at work and I don't think we prepared enough for it. I have mixed feelings about it. It has changed the way I do my job in some ways. We had been using the same system since I started so it has been a tough change for me. I'm used to having to scan instruments into the autoclaves and stuff but a lot of our documentation was still done on paper and now most of our records will be digital. There used to be a batch sheet that would print out when we would load the autoclaves that would list everything that was in there but now we have to get on the computer to check which can be inconvenient if someone needs that information quickly. I can't just print labels for my cataract pans at the beginning of the day so now I have to do each one individually and it makes it difficult to keep track of which doctor I should be setting up for. Surprisingly I didn't make any mistakes today so I guess that was nice. I understand that the new system is better for tracking and saves paper but it's still annoying and takes more time. I'm glad I'm a fast learner and I know how to use it already but it will still take some time to get used to.

I am happy that I have been able to have some peace in the morning this week since the morning team lead is on vacation. That probably sounds bad but I know that he would have been stressed out if he was at work this week and it's hard to be around him when he's like that. Everyone else has been in a bad mood as it is so I don't need any more drama right now. One of the girls in my department was really upset about something earlier and then she snapped at me when I asked her if she was ok. I didn't do anything to warrant that kind of response. I was just concerned. I am trying not to take it personally but I'm not going to go out of my way to talk to her if she's going to be like that.

I'm a little frustrated because I'm on probation for sick days again and I got a verbal warning so I can't call in for a while. I also don't have any PTO. I don't want to get written up so I'm trying to avoid that. I can't afford to lose my bonus this year because I have so many bills I need to pay right now. I have been having trouble managing my finances as it is.

Maxwell, I really would like to come see you before the 17th but I don't think I am going to be able to. I don't want you to be upset with me. I don't want to wait that long either because I miss you and it's making me sad. I really hate the way things are at the moment but I know it won't always be like this. I wish I could make you happy right now. I'm sorry.

I wish I felt like I had more control over my life. I hope that someday I can get my shit together. I want to be responsible. I don't understand how other people can balance everything without falling apart. I am trying not to complain about stuff but I can't help it.

Overall I suppose this week has been ok despite the circumstances. The schedule tomorrow looks bad for me but I will try to make it a good day anyway. I'm looking forward to the weekend even though I will likely spend most of it in bed trying to feel better. I need to stop typing and give my arm a break for a while because it's starting to bother me a lot. I will probably be up late again because I still have stuff I need to do tonight. I'm going to do my best to get things done quickly so that I can relax for a while before I go to bed.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a good day tomorrow. I appreciate the nice messages because they make me feel better when I'm down. Thank you all for caring and listening to me. 💖💖💖

[space-station-collective]

Howdy! I saw your "ask a system" post and I personally have been wondering if I am a system. Do you have any advice you can share for someone trying to figure this out on their own, or any personal experiences with learning and discovering systemhood you're comfy sharing? I currently don't have any way to get tested or diagnosed but I still want to be able to understand what's going on in my brain. Thank you!

hey hi! thank you for your ask! :D

so this one im gonna try my Best to answer but im not sure how well it will help, also keep in mind this is just my& experience and there may be other things that work for you!

first things first, keep in mind that these things take time! i found out about the system im a part of really really quickly and honestly it caused a lot of problems because of how quickly it was. it usually takes time to figure it out and develop healthy communication among the system members, and generally know what is going on

^ that was written by the host (who was so unbelievably tired), I'm taking over now, but didn't want to delete what he said! (Grian) (long post ahead!)

I'm gonna start with some resources/advice, and move to more personal experiences at the end!

the difficulty with determining if you're a part of a system, while already knowing about systems, is that it can be very difficult to know if the words actually describe you, or if it's just the closest thing. I know this is probably the worst to hear, but a lot of it honestly is a load of self reflection and determining what labels feel comfortable for you! at its base, plurality is a very wide label, and the way it applies to one person may be completely different to how it may apply to another!

the next thing is so much research. we were lucky to already have a very good base of knowledge due to a research hyperfixation a couple years back, which made things much easier on us, but there was still a lot we had to look into before really understanding what was happening

this website looks like it has a lot of good information! it has a section specifically dedicated to "Am I Plural?" which links to several other resources, as well. I don't fully have the energy to read through the entire site, but from what I saw it has good info, and I've seen other accounts link to it, so I'm inclined to trust it!

okay, now for personal experiences

I'm actually the main reason we found out about our system! or at the very least, how we found out when we did. I could probably make a post on that at some point, if there's interest in it, but to put it short, we had been suspecting plurality for a while and then I actually switched in, and now here we are!

honestly, my main advice is just keep doing research, and try not to doubt yourself. whatever might be happening, be it plurality or something else entirely, it's still your experience, and it's valid! also, a mistake our host made is trying really very hard to push down the system and ignore it. what actually happened was.. very damaging. please don't try and push away what's going on, I promise you it'll make it a lot easier if you lean into trying to understand it

I wish you the very best of luck! I hope this post actually made sense, our writing tends to be a bit all over the place sometimes. I hope this was able to offer some guidance!

-the host (he/they) and Grian (he/him/they)

[honda-wheel-size-chart]

Tire Size Chart Explained for Choosing the Right Fit Fast

Understanding Tire Size Markings at a Glance

Tire size markings like “225/65R17” reveal crucial dimensions: width, sidewall aspect ratio, construction type, and wheel diameter. A tire size chart breaks these elements down visually, ensuring the best fit and performance match for your specific vehicle and driving style. Matching tire sizes to your vehicle improves handling, fuel economy, and safety across different driving conditions.

Each segment of a tire code contains specific information:

225 – the width of the tire in millimeters

65 – the aspect ratio (sidewall height as a % of width)

R – radial construction

17 – rim diameter in inches

Understanding this breakdown helps you interpret tire size charts quickly and confidently.

What Is a Tire Size Chart and Why Use It?

A tire size chart is a tool that converts the alphanumeric code on your tire into measurable dimensions and compatibility references. It assists drivers, mechanics, and auto enthusiasts in comparing tire options based on:

Section width

Aspect ratio

Rim diameter

Overall tire diameter

Load index and speed rating (sometimes included)

The image below visually maps a sample tire size chart, labeling every key component from width to diameter.

This visual chart enhances understanding, making it easier to match tires for your car model, terrain type, or weather condition.

How to Choose the Right Tire Size for Your Vehicle

Choosing the right tire size involves more than just reading sidewall codes. According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA), incorrect tire sizes can affect braking distance, fuel efficiency, and overall control—especially in emergency maneuvers.

To pick the correct size:

Check the driver’s side door placard or owner’s manual – it lists factory-recommended tire sizes.

Use a tire size comparison chart – to find compatible alternatives if the original size is unavailable.

Stick to the diameter – Total wheel + tire diameter should remain close to the original to avoid speedometer inaccuracies or suspension issues.

Quote from Goodyear Technical Advisor Jim Davis:

“Staying within 3% of the original tire diameter ensures safety and drivability across most conditions.”

Key Tire Size Terms You Need to Know

Tire codes include various prefixes and measurements that affect performance and fit:

P: Passenger vehicle

LT: Light Truck – thicker sidewalls for heavier loads

T: Temporary spare tire

R: Radial construction (standard in most modern tires)

ZR: High-performance tire capable of higher speeds

A metric tire like “225/65R17” differs from an LT-metric tire such as “LT265/70R17” in load capacity and application. Tire size charts often provide side-by-side comparisons of these codes to help identify correct usage.

Metric vs. LT: What’s the Difference?

One common source of confusion in tire selection is the difference between metric (P-metric) and LT-metric tires. Metric sizes are designed for passenger vehicles and prioritize comfort and fuel efficiency, while LT tires are for trucks and SUVs carrying heavier loads.

Tire Type

Example

Best For

Load Range

Ride Comfort

P-Metric

225/65R17

Sedans, crossovers

Standard

Smoother

LT-Metric

LT265/70R17

Trucks, SUVs, towing

Higher

Firmer

This table helps clarify when each type is appropriate, so you don’t sacrifice safety or comfort.

Can You Use a Different Tire Size Than Recommended?

Yes—but only within limits. Experts recommend staying within a 3% total diameter difference from the original size. Going beyond that can:

Throw off your speedometer

Cause rubbing against the fenders or suspension

Lower your fuel economy

Void manufacturer warranties

Pro Tip: If upgrading to larger or wider tires (commonly called “plus sizing”), use a tire size calculator or compatibility chart to ensure proper clearance and performance balance.

Where to Find and Verify Your Tire Size

Your vehicle’s correct tire size is printed on:

The sidewall of your current tires

The driver’s door placard

The owner’s manual

The glove compartment door (some vehicles)

Also, tire retailers like Tire Rack, Discount Tire, and Firestone offer online tire size tools based on your vehicle’s year, make, and model.

[tyrerepairsblog]

Understanding the Different Types of Tire Sizes: A Complete Guide

When it comes to vehicle maintenance, understanding tire sizes is crucial for ensuring optimal performance, safety, and fuel efficiency. The right tire size not only affects how your vehicle handles but also plays a significant role in overall driving comfort. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll explore the different types of tire sizes, how to read them, and why they matter for various vehicles.

What Are Tire Sizes?

Tire sizes are a numerical representation of a tire's dimensions and specifications. They indicate the width, aspect ratio, construction type, and diameter of the tire, allowing drivers to choose the appropriate tires for their vehicles. Understanding these numbers helps in selecting tires that provide the best performance and safety for your specific vehicle.

Components of Tire Sizes

Tire sizes are typically displayed in a format like P215/65R15. Here’s a breakdown of what each component means:

Width (P215): The first number represents the tire's width in millimeters. In this case, the tire is 215 mm wide.

Aspect Ratio (65): The second number is the aspect ratio, indicating the height of the tire's sidewall as a percentage of its width. A lower aspect ratio generally means a shorter sidewall, which can improve handling but may reduce ride comfort.

Construction Type (R): The letter indicates the tire's construction type, with "R" denoting radial construction, the most common type used in passenger vehicles.

Diameter (15): The last number represents the diameter of the rim in inches. In this example, the tire fits a 15-inch wheel.

Different Types of Tire Size Classifications

Tires can be classified into various size formats:

Metric Sizes: Most common for modern vehicles, represented as P215/65R15.

Imperial Sizes: Older format used primarily in the U.S., denoted as 7.50-15.

Alphanumeric Sizes: Used mainly for specialty tires, such as 6.00-16.

How to Read Tire Size

Reading tire sizes is straightforward once you understand the components. Here’s a step-by-step guide:

Identify the numbers: Start with the width (e.g., 215).

Check the aspect ratio: Look at the second number (e.g., 65) to understand the sidewall height.

Note the construction type: The letter (e.g., R) indicates how the tire is built.

Find the diameter: The last number (e.g., 15) shows the size of the wheel the tire fits.

A visual aid can be extremely helpful in understanding these components better.

Types of Tires Based on Size

Different vehicles require specific tire sizes. Here are common classifications:

Passenger Tires: Generally found on cars, these tires come in a variety of sizes, typically ranging from 175 mm to 255 mm in width.

Light Truck Tires: Used for SUVs and light trucks, these tires often have a larger width and load capacity.

Heavy-Duty Tires: Designed for commercial vehicles, these tires can handle heavier loads and tougher conditions.

Performance Tires: These tires are engineered for speed and handling, often featuring lower aspect ratios and wider widths.

Importance of Correct Tire Sizing

Using the correct tire size is essential for several reasons:

Safety: Incorrect sizes can lead to handling issues, reduced traction, and increased risk of blowouts.

Fuel Efficiency: Properly sized tires help maintain optimal fuel consumption.

Driving Experience: The right tire size enhances ride comfort and stability.

Speedometer Accuracy: Tires that are too large or small can throw off your speedometer readings.

How to Choose the Right Tire Size for Your Vehicle

To select the right tire size:

Consult Your Owner’s Manual: The vehicle manufacturer provides specific tire size recommendations.

Check the Tire Information Label: Located on the driver’s side door jamb, this label displays the recommended tire sizes and pressures.

Use Tire Size Calculators: Online tools can help you find compatible sizes based on your vehicle’s specifications.

Conclusion

Understanding tire sizes is crucial for maintaining vehicle performance, safety, and efficiency. By familiarizing yourself with how to read tire sizes and their components, you can make informed decisions when it comes to tire purchases. Regularly checking your tire sizes ensures you get the most out of your vehicle, enhancing your driving experience.

FAQs

Q1: Can I change tire sizes on my vehicle? A1: Yes, but it’s essential to choose a size that is compatible with your vehicle to maintain performance and safety.

Q2: What happens if I use the wrong tire size? A2: Using the wrong size can lead to poor handling, increased tire wear, and safety risks.

Q3: How do I find my vehicle's recommended tire size? A3: Refer to your owner’s manual or the tire information label on your vehicle.

[atplblog]

Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] Tired of second-guessing yourself while mixing?Mixing doesn't have to be hard. You just need the right process to follow so that you can be confident in your decisions. This book contains the step-by-step formula for creating professional rock mixes (even from your home studio)Most home studio engineers don't have a process to follow as they mix. As a result, they find themselves feeling unsure of where to begin, how to process individual tracks, make them all work together, and know exactly when to stop. This causes serious extreme frustration since it can be both time consuming and often results in weak, lifeless mixes. That's where this book comes in handy. This step-by-step guide will help you:Create balanced, polished mixesMaster tools like EQ, compression, effects and moreDevelop a workflow to make the art of mixing easyDiscover the key frequency ranges you need to always pay attention toMix faster and feel more confident with your decisionsIf you’re looking to create mixes that sound professional, polished and huge, this book has the answers you need.ReviewsMike Indovina’s book, “The Mixing Mindset,” is the beginners’ mixing instruction manual we’ve been missing. This book is loaded with great information that so many other mixing instructors never mention. It of course goes into detail on all the technical aspects of mixing, giving examples of good EQ and compression moves for all kinds of situations, but it also largely focuses on the creative decision-making and problem-solving skills needed to construct a great mix. This is the key thing that so many other mixing tip sources fail to touch on. Most of the material you can find elsewhere on the subject will just throw suggestions at you without actually hearing where it’s being applied, and beginners will take that as a kind of cure-all solution for any situation; when in actuality the tip likely won’t work in their case. Mike makes a point of letting you know that you need to actually use your ears and evaluate your own mix to diagnose what exactly the problems are. He makes sure that you’re aware that there is no cure all, while still giving you all the tools you need to be capable of finding the solution to your unique mixing problems. “The Mixing Mindset” is going to change the way people learn mixing, and will likely lead to young engineers improving significantly more quickly than they ever have before.- Bryan PrimroseAbout The Author:Mike Indovina is a recording, mixing, and mastering engineer who has worked with hundreds of artists throughout his career. He has been fortunate to work alongside many major artists (including KISS and Collective Soul) and labels such as Universal, Sony, Republic, Roadrunner, and more.He runs www.masteryourmix.com where he helped teach thousands of aspiring studio engineers to create pro-level mixes from home. ASIN ‏ : ‎ B07MHB8BJ2 Language ‏ : ‎ English File size ‏ : ‎ 1951 KB Text-to-Speech ‏ : ‎ Enabled Screen Reader ‏ : ‎ Supported Enhanced typesetting ‏ : ‎ Enabled X-Ray

‏ : ‎ Not Enabled Word Wise ‏ : ‎ Enabled Print length ‏ : ‎ 110 pages Page numbers source ISBN ‏ : ‎ 1777783607 [ad_2]

[cosmicscarecrows]

5 Advice For Deciding On The Right Tires For Your Vehicle

Picking the ideal tires for your car is important for safety and security, performance, as well as total driving satisfaction. Along with different choices accessible out there, it can easily be frustrating to create the ideal decision.

Listed Here Are Actually Five Ideas To Help You Decide On The Appropriate Tires:

Understand Your Driving Needs

Consider your driving habits and the problems you often encounter. If you stay in a place with extreme wintertimes, you may need tires with excellent snowfall traction. However, if you reside in a region with a scorching climate, you'll prefer tires that perform properly in heats. Identify whether you do usually motorway driving, city commuting, or off-road adventures. Understanding your driving demands will certainly help you shorten the sorts of tires that appropriate for your way of life.

Inspect Your Vehicle's Specs

Pertain to your vehicle's owner's handbook or check out the information on the sidewall of your current tires to recognize the highly recommended tire size as well as type. Take notice of particulars including load-carrying capability and velocity ratings. Choosing the appropriate measurements and type defined by the maker makes sure optimum performance and also safety for your car. Making use of incorrect tire measurements may have an effect on managing, energy efficiency, as well as even ruin your automobile.

Consider Weather Issues

Tires are actually designed with particular weather conditions in mind. There are all-season tires, summer tires, and winter season tires. All-season tires are actually extremely versatile as well as conduct effectively in various circumstances, yet they could not succeed in severe weather. Summertime tires provide superb functionality in dry out and also damp conditions yet may certainly not supply adequate traction in snow as well as ice. Winter months tires are actually especially made for cold weather condition and snow-covered roads. Opt for the best tires for subaru outback that align with the primary climate situations in your area to enrich safety and security and also efficiency.

Examine Tread Life and Guarantee

Tread lifestyle is actually an essential factor to take into consideration when selecting tires. Various tires possess varying treadwear scores, suggesting exactly how long they are anticipated to last. While a much higher treadwear score usually suggests longer lifestyle, it's critical to harmonize it with other efficiency features. In addition, check for the producer's manufacturer's warranty, which can offer you insights right into the assumed lifespan of the tires. Some makers offer usage warranties, supplying a particular amount of assurance concerning the long life of the best tires for lexus rx350.

Review Brands and also Read Reviews

Put in the time to investigation and match up different tire labels. Seem for evaluations and scores coming from other chauffeurs to get understandings into real-world adventures. Pay attention to aspects including taking care of, use comfort, sound amount, and overall fulfillment. Credible tire suppliers commonly invest in research as well as development, creating high quality products. Take into consideration responses from various other vehicle drivers that have identical vehicles as well as driving problems as your own to produce an updated decision.

To conclude, opting for the right tires involves a well thought-out consideration of your steering necessities, auto specs, climate, step lifestyle, and company online reputation. Through taking the time to analyze these aspects, you can easily make an informed selection that improves your car's security, performance, and overall driving adventure.

[carbikemovers-com]

The Ultimate Guide to Bike Transport in Trains: Tips and Tricks

Bike transport in trains can be a convenient and cost-effective option, especially when you are planning a long-distance trip. To ensure a smooth and hassle-free experience, here is the ultimate guide to bike transport in train, complete with tips and tricks.

Plan Ahead:

 Before you embark on your journey, it is crucial to plan ahead and gather all the necessary information regarding bike transport on trains. Different train operators may have varying policies and procedures, so make sure to check the guidelines of the specific train service you will be using. Look for information regarding bike reservation, packaging requirements, and any additional fees or restrictions.

Make a Reservation:

To avoid any last-minute surprises or disappointments, make a reservation for your bike in advance. Some trains have limited space for bike transport, and reservations ensure that you have a spot secured. Check with the train operator if bike reservations are required and if there are any specific instructions to follow.

Choose the Right Packaging:

Proper packaging is essential to protect your bike during transit. Most train operators have specific requirements for bike packaging, such as removing pedals, deflating tires, and turning the handlebars sideways. Invest in a sturdy bike box or a padded bike bag that provides adequate protection. Make sure to label your package with your name and contact information.

Remove Accessories and Secure Loose Parts:

 Before packing your bike, remove any accessories that may get damaged or lost during transit. This includes lights, water bottle holders, and saddlebags. Additionally, secure any loose parts such as the saddle, front wheel, or fenders to prevent them from shifting or getting damaged during transport.

Consider Insurance:

 If you own a high-end or expensive bike, it is wise to consider insurance coverage. While train operators take precautions to ensure the safety of your bike, accidents can still happen. Check with your insurance provider to see if your bike is covered during transit or consider purchasing additional coverage for the journey.

Arrive Early:

On the day of your journey, arrive at the train station well in advance to allow sufficient time for bike drop-off and loading. Some stations have designated areas or specific instructions for bike shifting . Follow the instructions provided by the train staff and ensure that your bike is properly checked-in and loaded onto the train.

Lock Your Bike:

 Even though your bike will be inside the train, it is advisable to lock it securely. Use a sturdy lock to secure your bike to the designated racks or hooks inside the train. This adds an extra layer of security and gives you peace of mind during the journey.

Carry Essential Tools:

While your bike is in transit, it's a good idea to carry a small toolkit with essential tools and spare parts. This will come in handy in case you need to make any adjustments or repairs during your trip. Basic tools like Allen keys, a mini pump, and spare inner tubes can be a lifesaver in unexpected situations.

Stay Informed:

 During the journey, stay informed about the stops and the duration of each stop. This will help you keep track of when your destination is approaching and ensure that you are ready to disembark with your bike when the time comes. Train schedules can change, so pay attention to announcements and updates provided by the train staff.

Unpack Carefully:

Once you reach your destination, take your time to unpack your bike carefully. Inspect it for any damages that may have occurred during transit. If you notice any

damages or issues, document them immediately and notify the train staff if necessary. It's important to address any problems promptly to ensure appropriate resolution.

Follow Local Regulations:

When you arrive at your destination, familiarize yourself with local regulations regarding cycling. Some cities or regions may have specific rules for biking on public roads or bike paths. Ensure that you adhere to these regulations for your safety and to avoid any legal issues.

Share Your Experience:

 After your bike transport journey, share your experience with fellow cyclists. Provide feedback on the train service, the bike transport process, and any suggestions for improvement. Sharing your insights can help other cyclists who are planning to transport their bikes on trains in the future.

Consider Alternative Transport Options:

 While bike transport in trains can be convenient, it's not always the most suitable option for every situation. Consider alternative transport options based on your specific needs. For shorter distances, you may opt for cycling or using bike racks on buses or cars. Evaluate the feasibility and cost-effectiveness of different options before making a decision.

Maintain Your Bike:

 Regular bike maintenance is crucial for optimal performance and longevity. After your train journey, inspect your bike for any wear and tear, clean it thoroughly, and perform necessary maintenance tasks such as lubricating the chain and checking tire pressure. Proper maintenance ensures that your bike is always in top condition for future adventures.

In conclusion, bike transport in train offers a convenient and efficient way to travel with your bike for long distances. By following the tips and tricks outlined in this guide, you can ensure a smooth and hassle-free experience. Plan ahead, make reservations, choose the right packaging, and stay informed throughout your journey. With proper preparation and care, you can enjoy the freedom of exploring new places with your bike, knowing that it's safe and secure during transit.

[dameronology]

to all the pilots i've loved before {poe dameron} - 2/4

part two: laughter lines on tired eyes

summary: you’re in love with poe dameron. it’s both the most complicated and most simple thing in the galaxy - and it’s all shoved into a shoe-box under your bed, in the form of a thousand love letters. here’s to hoping he never finds them. (series masterlist)

warnings: this one's pretty angsty - mentions of death + loss

enjoy :)

- jazz xx

Poe had always been terrified of losing you. It came with the territory of his job, but a lot of it stemmed from the fact you were person who he was closest with.

Dear Poe,

He tried not to think about it, really. Why would he? There was no point in pondering upon depressing scenarios when you brought enough excitement to his real life. He'd always known to some extent that there was a chance you could be lost in battle but that was a thought he shoved to the back of his head. It was locked away in a chest in a dark corner - another thing he didn't need to think about.

It occurred to me today that I'm probably in love with you. At first, I thought I was always just really happy to see you, but then I realised this morning, a MONDAY morning when I normally despise everyone including you, that I actually really wanted to see you.

But some things in life were unavoidable, and being dragged into a meeting room with a solemn looking Leia Organa was one of them. For Poe, it was an uncomfortably similar scenario to one he'd faced 25 years earlier. The General was more tired now, though - tired of fighting, tired of the war, tired of having these fucking conversations.

I'm never going to tell you, but as you know, I am famously bad at containing my emotions and I had to put this....somewhere.

They always started the same.

"I'm sorry."

Poe frowned. "What's happened?"

I'm sure it'll pass. I've had loads of random crushes in the past but they all went away. Do you remember Larry, the guy from the hangar, who I fancied for like a week last summer? And that very brief crush I had on Han Solo? Huh, maybe I have a time.

"(Name)'s squadron was flying back from Coruscant when the fleet took a hit," Leia's voice was shaky. Worlds away from her normal authoritative tone. "Three jets disappeared from our radars, including theirs."

"But you've found them, right?" He pushed. "You have to have found them-"

"- we've sent out several search parties," she cut him off. "They haven't found any wreckage on nearby planets, but that's good news, because it means they might have not been knocked down. It might be that they diverted to another planet to lay low for a few days."

I think it's the way you smile at me. You might not notice it, but you have these little creases by your eyes, and your lips always upturn even when you try to resist laughing. I really like your hugs too.

Poe sat up in his seat, heart rate suddenly picking up to a speed that almost beat that of his X-Wing. Clammy hands, sweaty palms, little black dots beginning to form at the edges of his peripheral vision. Suddenly, he was eight years old again, gripping the sides of his chair, throat as dry as the desert on a hot summer's day; brown eyes filled with sorrow and tears, feeling like a punch to her goddamn throat. She hadn't shaken that vision out of her head, not ever - and now, here it was all over again - the same face, the same creased brown, the same eyes. They were more tired now, with laughter lines etched around the sides, brown irises a little darker and more sunken. But Poe's eyes had never lost that spark - it had dimmed a little bit, but it was still there. Whether it would be after all this was hard to say.

And just...well it's you really, isn't it? It's the way you go out your way to make me smile when I'm sad and the way you'll fight anyone who makes me mad.

"Let me lead a search party," he begged. "Please, I'll find them in now time-"

"- Poe, you're too close to the matter," Leia replied. "You can help, though."

"Anything," Poe said. "I'll do anything."

"We've been trying to locate the back-up plans that (name) prepared for the mission - they should include a list of potential safe spots," she explained. "If you can find that list, we'll begin searching them."

"Have you tried their quarters?"

"I didn't want to invade their privacy," Leia said. "But if you happen to have a key, then-"

It's everything. It's your resilience and your humour and the way you see the best in everyone. The way you're never afraid to fight for what you believe in or stand up for what's right.

She was cut off by the sound of Poe's chair legs screeching against the floor. He was up in a split second, flying out the room without another word. His fists were balled up as he stormed down the corridor, nails digging into the palms of his hands - the pain of them piercing his skin was merely a reminder that all this was real. It wasn't a nightmare. He wasn't going to wake up and find you asleep in your room, safe and sound.

If Leia was right, and you were just laying low, would you not have said something to him? Found your own way to pass the message on? It wasn't like you to just disappear without a trace. You were always the organised one; the one who carried band-aids for when he inevitably burnt himself on a soldering iron, and the one who stitched him up every time he came staggering back from a mission, covered in minor scratches that he had heroically labelled battle scars.

You're amazing and I'm so lucky you're my best friend. This war is fucking awful but having you by my side makes everything a little less fucking awful.

Your room was just as you'd left it; tidy, but lived in. The jacket you'd stolen from him two years ago was strewn across your desk chair; the desk itself was piled high with random papers and forms, and there was a photo beside them of you, him, Finn and Rey. Some of your clothes were tossed on the bed, and your spare pair of boots was dumped in the middle of the floor.

Poe quickly scanned the room, before rifling around the sheets on your desk - but, to no avail. They were just random notes, and what looked like a letter from your father. He tried to recall any thing that might point to where you kept your mission plans - there had been the time you'd leant him your X-Wing maintenance guide, which was in a box under your bed.

This is probably something I'll take to my grave. Maybe I'll tell you about it in like 20 years when we're married to different people and meet up for Life Day. And I'll be all like 'hey, Poe! This one time when we younger, I was in love with you' and we'll laugh about it.

Falling to his knees onto the floor, Poe flipped your duvet up and began to peer underneath. Dust bunnies, a maintenance kit, your old blaster, the book he leant you nine months ago, and a box full of papers. After pawing about for a minute, he pulled the shoe box out and tore it open.

Now, it should be said that you had never considered the possibility that Poe would ever look under your bed without you knowing. Why would he? Unless he was creeping about, of course - but he'd never do anything like that. It wasn't in his nature, and you'd put the fear of god into him more than enough times for him to be clever enough not to do that. This was different, though; it was literally a matter of life and death.

I guess that means I think we'll still be friends in 20 years. And 40 and 50 and 60 and until we're old and wrinkly and too senile to fly a jet. I love you now and I'm sure I'll still love you then.

Tipping the papers out onto your floor, Poe crossed his legs and began to search through them.

He didn't see it at first.

All the letters that said dear Poe, I love you.

When he did, his heart stopped. Like, that full on, gut clenching, air-stealing, pulse pausing stomach drop. It only further added to his theory that this whole fucking terrible day was just a dream - but maybe, just maybe, this bit was a little less terrible.

Hands shaking (now for a different reason), Poe grabbed the first letter from the pile. It was dated to just over a year ago.

Love, (name)

There was a lot to unpack; firstly, you'd been in love with him for a fucking year. And you'd brought up the secret crush on Han Solo that you swore to never talk about - and did you really think he'd ever be too senile to fly a jet? Poe would have been insulted if that first revelation hadn't reduced his entire thinking capacity down to one, tiny brain cell.

Clutching the letter in his hands, Poe fell back against the bed. All this information - your disappearance and the declarations - was much too complicated for him to process all at once. The worst part was that you'd said you were going to take it to your grave and now...well now, you actually might have.

But there was still a chance - a chance that you were still out there, trying to find your way back to him. To your best friend.

You had to come back.

tags: @neverlandlibrarian @asphyzzz @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ubri812 @taina-eny @dessinemoiunehistoire @fangirl-316 @princessxkenobi @brandyllyn