#keep a file on a physical drive with your shit on it. back it up every once in a while.

[rindomness]

i think the thing that makes me most powerful as an artist is the fact that i have kept copies in some form or another of almost everything i have made since i started and thus whenever the imposter syndrome is hitting i can look at the literal piles of sketchbooks and notebooks and binders i keep the physical copies of my work in and go oh yeah. ive been working at this for like ten years. and then it just goes away.

anyway i absolutely recommend this as a strategy no matter how cringey it might seem keeping visual evidence of skill progression is an incredible tool against imposter syndrome. voice in your head can't tell you you're faking your skills if you can pull out a literal record of your skill growth against it

[bi-writes]

cw: protective!ghost, allusions to civilian!reader being (physically) assaulted at work (18+)

"l-lieutenant?"

ghost is nearly startled by the little voice that practically squeaks behind him. he's been huddled in his office for too long, driving himself mad with paperwork and sergeants too stupid for their own good. he blinks, turning around, and he blinks when he sees you there in the doorway, hands shaking as you try and collect yourself.

when he looks carefully under the fluorescent lights, he can see there are tears in your eyes. it's then that he notices how you look, really look. there's a bruise blossoming on your jaw, the skin swelling a bit where there's a cut on your lip. your shirt is askew, and you're panting and sweating, like you've been running. he's never seen you this way. fuck, he barely sees you at all, except when he goes out during drills, and he's only ever spoken to you once or twice, just to receive some papers or to excuse himself as he tries to get around you in a crowded hallway. you are always quiet, always shy, smiling at him if you are near and trying to keep out of the way.

he doesn't know why it enrages him to see you in this state, but it does.

"the fuck happened t'ya?" he rasps, and he realizes it comes out harsher than he means. he isn't used to being nice.

the slamming of a door against a wall keeps you from answering. just like that, you're moving, about to scramble away, run, when ghost reaches out and grabs your wrist. he tugs you towards him, just quick enough that whoever is coming for you skids into the doorway.

it's a sergeant he recognizes. cocky, full of shit, who never hits his target. he's big, but not as big as ghost. he pauses when he realizes where you are and who you're with, skidding backwards as he tries to contain his anger.

"wot the fuck is goin' on?" ghost snaps, and you sputter, not able to make out your words properly.

"'m sorry, lieutenant," the sergeant huffs. "i'll take care of this."

when he lunges for you, ghost shoves you behind him, tilting his head to the side as he stares down at the little shit.

"did i fuckin' tell ya t'move?" ghost growls. "this how ya answer ta y'r superior, you fuckin' knob?"

"no," he spits back, but his eyes flash when ghost puts a gloved hand against his chest and pushes him back far enough to put appropriate distance between them.

"did y'hit this civilian?" ghost asks, a humorless laugh leaving him. when the sergeant doesn't respond, ghost turns finally, looking at you, and he clicks his tongue to get your eyes on him. "did he put his hands on ya?"

you tremble a little, moving the back of your hand over your eyes before nodding. you don't really register what happens next. you see blood on the tips of your kitten heels one moment, and you cover your eyes the next.

in the bathroom later that evening, ghost is careful as he dabs at your lip gently with a cool cloth. he has taken the gloves off (they were soaked with blood), and you try not to shiver as he holds your face with one big hand and cleans you up with the other. you can see the shadow of tattoos peeking out from under his sleeve.

"why'd y'come t'me?" he asks after a few minutes. you blink up at him, swallowing hard, and he stands back a little to get a better look at you.

"i've read your file," you whisper, looking down, a bit ashamed. "i just thought...you'd understand."

or maybe you wondered what he would do if he found out.

he hums a little, and you miss the feeling of his touch as soon as he lets go of you, washing his hands at the sink. you fixate on his stature, his size. the thick of his thighs, how the holsters there bulge and stretch to try and hold onto him.

just as he starts to leave, you stand from your seat, making your way to him. he hears you, stopping, and you hold onto his bicep gently as you get on your toes to kiss his cheek. he flinches a little, but he relaxes finally, leaning in for you to kiss him there again. when your eyes meet again, you think you see something there.

he kicks the door closed with his boot, trapping you in the room with him. you smile when the lock clicks.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I am constantly procrastinating working on my original fic by writing fanfic. Any advice for how to refocus and finish my novel?

Well. The novel probably needs a nap.

Procrastinating is a symptom that something is preventing you from doing the thing you "should" be doing. Most of the time it's an unrelated, but actually higher priority task like resting after an illness (society is fucking lying about anything else being more important) or filing your taxes (actually this one is pretty important).

...but if you're procrastinating on one creative project with another creative project, you're not procrastinating: something about the novel is off right now, the fanfic is more appealing to you.

Consider the following:

You may be writing fic because it brings you more joy than the novel. If you really want to get back to the novel, figure out what would make working on it more enjoyable. Engagement from a beta-editor? Skipping this really boring scene and coming back to it later? Adding more smut?

You may also be writing fic because it's got a lower spoon coat than the novel and you need to conserve your spoons right now. Any extra stress in your life? Moving? Toothache? Recovering from Covid? Annoying roommate? Sick family member? It's an election year? ANY of those could soak up extra spoons and make your novel too expensive for your spoons budget. Let it take a nap, and come back when you're feeling better.

You may be sharpening your artistic skills on a lower-stakes project before going back to the novel. This is pretty normal- even Michaelangelo took breaks to work on other pieces while sculpting The David, both for a change of pace and so he could try something out without fucking up the big block.

Fortunately, you're writing, so you can always try writing the challenging scene a dozen times in different docs or save the parts that were good but don't not in a spare parts bucket doc.

Or keep working on that fic, it's helping you learn on a subconscious level.

You don't love the novel right now. This is alright. This is usually temporary, and the solution is the same- put it aside and work on something else.

Maybe you are just bored of the novel. That's fine and normal, you just save all the documents to your hard drive and come back later. When the fic inevitably gets boring too, you'll come back to the novel and either go "oh hey this kicks ass!" And return to it with renewed enthusiasm.

...Or you'll come back to it and go "oh. This is actually a piece of shit" And that's okay too, because there's nothing more useless than polishing a turd, but that turd is still valuable as compost. You learned things writing it, and you can still rifle through the novel for good lines or scenes or turns of phrase and put those in your spare parts doc to ferment into The Good Shit in the back of your mind.

HOWEVER:

If you are experiencing a different phenomenon wherein you are actively distressed while writing the fic- either out of misplaced guilt, or the fic isn't actually fun you just feel compelled to do something, or absolutely every creative endeavor is stressing you out, you may be experiencing a serious mental or physical health issue and you should see your GP or a specialist ASAP. Pain is an indicator that something is wrong. Do not ignore your body's warning light.

That sounds really dramatic and hyperbolic but realizing I was not enjoying ANY creative work was the symptom that finally got me to sit down and go "huh. All these random pains, irregular sleep cycle, frequent migraines and weird bouts of vertigo aren't normal either, I should get this looked at." And it turned out I had dangerously low blood oxygen at night from undiagnosed sleep apnea. I have a CPAP machine now and it's AMAZING.

I really hope this is regular artistic shuffle and not a serious health concern, but if you're experiencing creative stress AND a bunch of other shit, it may be serious.

[mo0nfairy]

😍😍 OMG, I'm gonna be needing a part four to that Leon post stat.

(Love your writing it's amazing just like you are) ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎

part 1. part 2. part 3.

tw :: re4 spoilers, obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, violence, knives, tasers, guns, explosives, framing, murder, abuse of power, death of a character, physical restrainment, noncon touching, thoughts of suicide, being knocked unconscious, shit goes down basically.

⸺ thank u, honeybaby !!!!! i've been vv busy these past few days, but this man has been HEAVY on my mind. i've also been listening to playing dangerous by our lord and savior lana del rey on repeat and it had my brain conjuring up some ideas... (also this part is long so buckle up friends)

you see, you've been praying everyday to earn back those damned memories that slipped from your mind 6 years ago. but in a attempt to do so, all you can feel is a gun against your head, an explosion against your body, and dust permeating your lungs. all before the classic cut to black welcomes you. no crying mouse-ley, no crying guard-dog. just empty darkness. through the abyss, however, you are now able to unveil memories that were buried deep within you. and whether the return of these past events is a good thing or not is up to you.

you remember a late august evening. the cool air and descending leaves would calm you, but your current circumstances prevent you from any serenity. an anonymous tip to the RPD claimed that you were in possession of illegal substances. and somehow, those said drugs had magically appeared into existence within your home. this leaves you here, being driven to the station by the officer of the month, marvin branagh. despite everything, you're grateful marvin was the one to arrest you. you happen to favor him and his basic understanding of boundaries, as opposed to a certain mutt you know far too well.

it's safe to say you've now got quite the reputation in the RPD with how much trouble you get into. and especially with how quickly the problems seem to fade away. you're being escorted through the station until another officer complains to marvin about some kids with fake ID's. he leaves you by yourself at an empty desk with one hand cuffed to the armrest. the desk right beside leon's. you look to the blonde beside you. his head is rested against his arms folded upon his desk, deep in slumber. his cheek is squished against the surface of his arm, pushing his lips out into a duck-like pout. your mugshot peeks out from beneath his sleeping form. you swear through his unintelligible murmuring, you hear a gentle whimper of your name. marvin had mentioned during the drive how he was up all night looking through your case (wouldn't be the first time), but you can't find it in yourself to feel bad for him. you don't trust him. even several years ago, something within you has always prevented you from trusting him.

you fiddle with a mr. raccoon toy as 20 minutes slowly tread by. completely overcome with boredom, you peak over leon's shoulder to see your case file beneath him. maybe you could find something useful inside, like the bastard responsible for all these false claims. using your free hand, you manage to slyly slip your case folder from under his weight. not without a quiet whine of "no, y/n/n... don't leave me..." good god, was he cuddling your mugshot? (it would be the closest he could get to you physically, after all). you ignore him entirely, thanking the heavens that this man is such a deep sleeper.

opening the file, you find standard information about your case. you read through the notes leon left behind, which causes nausea to then stir in your stomach. he jotted down his worries of your case closing and not being able to keep you in the station any longer; there was ideas of any potential loopholes in the system he could take advantage of and prove your innocence. beside his rambling, there was a long list of certain ways he can frame you for crimes to reel you back into his clutches. what in the actual fuck? and just when you thought this situation couldn't get worse, you find he used pictures of your friends at the shooting range, bullet holes piercing through their paper faces.

you read through the evidence in shock, until a sickeningly-sweet tone gasps your name and pulls you out of your trance. you look over the folder to see those familiar blue eyes peering into yours. leon lights up like a golden retriever with a bone when he wakes up and you're the first thing he sees, metaphorical tail wagging and all. to dream of you and to be the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, it is pure heaven! only, instead of the early morning, love-drunk haze within his dreams, he is instead met with the heartbreaking look of horror on your face. his eyes trail down to see you holding his notes and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. no, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this! it was never supposed to be like this! you were supposed to fall in love with him! you are supposed to be with him forever!

you are supposed to love him! you have to!

and you thought you've seen the worst, you thought you reached the bottom of the iceberg. but you were so, so wrong. it had been 2 weeks since you learned the truth about leon. since then, you were able to find solace within an old friend, claire redfield. not only do you adore her, but the layer of protection she had given you when you complained about the clingy cop on your hip was just the cherry on top. without leon, these 14 days were the most peace you have felt in what feels like months. you didn't know how the man who acted like he needed your presence more than air felt about this sudden separation. and to be completely honest, you didn't really care.

now, with your arm hooked around claire's, you two walk home after a night out in raccoon city. you're repeating old inside jokes and clutching your chest in heaps of rib-straining laughter. everything is full of high-spirits until you notice a certain cop car sitting in the street. claire enters your estate first, guarding you protectively while you follow her footsteps. you find (you guessed it!) no other than leon kennedy rummaging through your belongings. and the look on leon's face when he sees you with someone else is nothing short of pure anguish, sheer betrayal. he is jealous — so much so that it practically suffocates the room. you've seen plenty of emotions expressed by leon and the consequences that followed, but you've never seen first-hand what jealousy may compel him to do. considering the pictures of your friends he used as target practice, you feel as though the outcome won't be any good.

claire breaks the silence, "you disgusting pig! i'm calling my brother down here and he's gonna kick your-" her roar of anger is cut off with a sharp groan.

leon stands, taser gun in hand, as the electrodes strike into claire's body. she then falls to the ground with a loud thump, her form convulsing from the electric shocks waving through her. rushing to her side, you attempt to help her. but, you then cave into yourself when leon walks over in three large strides. and you now realize he is absolutely terrifying when he is jealous. his voice drops to a low husk as he demands you tell him who the fuck this is, a major contrast to the bubbly-puppy you're grown familiar with. you are left flabbergasted and are unable to mutter even a syllable.

you aren't even granted a mere second to compose of yourself before leon pulls a knife, plunging it deep into claire's chest. a scream of pure terror erupts from your throat. you're painted red as he relentlessly stabs your best friend, curling yourself into a corner and hiding your face in your arms. through your tear-stained vision, you see the lifeless body of claire and leon standing above her, huffing with fury like some blood-thirsty creature. something in his gaze perceptibly softens when he sees you, so scared and feeble. and it shatters his heart. after all, leon would take every life on planet earth just to see your lips curl into a smile, even once more. but, nothing could have prepared you for the words that would then leave his mouth.

he turns his body cam on. "y/n l/n, you are under arrest for the murder of... whoever this was. you have the right to remain silent. anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." you stare at leon entirely flabbergasted, but you're too exhausted to fight against him.

he bends down to you, light whispers of "you're ok, it wasn't your fault" and "i've got you, sweet angel" doing little to comfort you. with his gentle hands against you, leon proceeds to cuff you with the same softness you would use to handle a baby bird. and you let him take you away, because you are too caught up in looking at your best friend who was laughing with you just minutes ago now dead on the ground. you cry to yourself in the backseat of the cop car the whole way to the station.

by the time you get there, you are entirely in a state of shock. tears of dread stream down your cheeks, but your face is nothing short of emotionless. you are so caught up in your head, you don't even notice the whispers of other officers there. they gossip about how considering your track record, it's no wonder you'd end up here for good. a sharp glare from the man guiding you through the department is enough for them to shut their mouths. you're then brought into an interrogation room, with cameras off and no other presence besides you and this mad-man at your beck and call.

cuffed to a chair once again, leon locks the door behind him. he then drops to his knees and ties his arms around your waist, burying his head into you. it takes several seconds for reality to hit you, but you soon realize he is crying. and if you weren't restrained currently, you would've pushed him off and made him suffer a fate far worse than what claire endured. now, the two of you are sobbing together, but for entirely different reasons. you, full of grief over someone you love being murdered just moments ago. leon, full of agony over how the gleam of emotion he was so infatuated with left your eyes. all because of him.

you muster enough strength to plead to the blonde, your voice coming out through hoarse, slurred sniffles. but much to your dismay, your cries fall on deaf ears. if only leon had more morality than he did love for you.

"i'm so sorry, y/n, i just needed to hold you. even for just one last time” he picks his head up to look at you, face breaking out in a pitiful smile. “and i can't lose you. not again.” he grabs hold of your hands from behind your back and begins caressing the digits of your fingers. and the contrast between his smile and the crazed look in his eyes has you shuddering in apprehension.

"you're stuck with me to the end."

your eyes then flutter open to see a blinding white light; you begin to hear the quiet chant of a monitor beside you. where the hell am i? despite your current confusion, all you can think about is how you grieved for your best friend in the grimy cells of the RPD, how everyone turned into undead creatures just a week later, and how leon protected you from anything as small as a paper cut. you remember how several zombies overpowered him and how you took advantage of the opportunity, running like hell away and out of raccoon city. you remember the burning of your lungs, the rain on your skin, the hope of getting far, far away from this nightmare. you also remember the fear you felt when umbrella snatched you into their possession, to where you would soon forget everything that happened. including leon kennedy.

you're in the present now, as you can tell by the sheepskin jacket around your form and the hospital bed you're laid upon. it takes you too long to realize that you're safe, out of the hellhole that is los iluminados. looking down, you find a gun sitting by your hip (leon made the declaration that if you were to never wake up again, he wouldn't hesitate to end it all right then and there). you shift your train of sight to see leon at your bedside with his head in his hands while his entire body trembles with trepidation. the sight of this lovesick maniac at your side causes you to spring forward with a harsh gasp. his heartbeat skyrockets at the sudden occurrence. you're alive, and leon can't stop the tears of relief that fall from his eyes.

"hi, pretty... i'm here, you're safe now..." the smile on his face is borderline terrifying. his hands cup your face, practically clinging onto you like a lifeline.

"i remember... i remember everything..." the statement is entirely said to yourself, your gaze distant and not entirely there.

his eyebrows scrunch upwards, gaze softening (if it can even soften more than it already has). leon then pulls your face to his and molds his lips against yours aggressively, desperately. it isn't soft, sweet, or romantic in any sense. it is inexperienced, but overflowing with raw passion, need, and obsession. he only stops when the two are you are breathless and gasping for air. a dreamy sigh escapes leon's lips once he parts from you, gazing into your eyes as if you were something holy (which you are, obvi, but i digress). leon is so horrifically, irrevocably, disgustingly in love with you. and you can feel everything in his all-too overwhelming kiss.

he then engulfs you and melts into your arms like a noodle in boiling water. his light-headed, lovesick laughter fans against your neck. leon somehow pulls you impossibly closer to him, almost as if he were trying to morph the two of you together. it is too much; he is all you can feel, smell, touch. but, without a sliver of strength in your body, you are entirely vulnerable to him and his captivation.

"ashley... she didn't make it..." there’s a certain tone in leon's voice you can’t explain, but you shudder beneath it, anyway. he tells the information softly, but his voice is full of too much exhilaration to be normal. with these newfound memories, that dread returns to your stomach at the thought of what leon is capable of. what leon may have done to ashley while you were out cold.

through the abyssal darkness, your wish has been granted. you have now retrieved all lost memories.

and now, you know why you never were able to trust leon kennedy.

the end !! hehe, thanks for the fun ride babes.

HOWEVER……….. this is surely not the end of my resident evil stained brainrot. so i will not be continuing this series, but i will most certainly be pouring out everything in my RE-obsessed brain. only if u would like to see it, of course. if u do, pls send me some asks!! and thank u again !!!

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Chapter 1

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Discussion of murder and physical abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Prologue -- Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Jake made sure to put on a suit he knew was "nice enough" for the meeting. Clay would be going with him, helping him secure the deal he needed to keep Sarah and Jadah, his real family, safe, never to be messed with again. The rest of the Losers were keeping an eye on them to make sure his parents didn't try anything while negotiating. Aisha and Cougar were some of the best fighters he knew and Pooch could easily drive his family to a secure area.

"So why did you think you needed to get your sister out of the marriage," Clay asked. "I get your parents are pieces of shit, but wouldn't a marriage get her away from them?"

"Nope," Jake shook his head as he drove. "Not only would it further embed them into her life, the guy she was engaged to was a monster. I did a deep dive on him when the engagement was announced. He had a bunch of arrests for domestic disturbance, but his parents, his lawyers, got him out and always settled out of court. Apparently his parents figured marriage would help him calm down. I tried to call bullshit, got shut down, and took action."

Clay nodded, silently filing away the information, before continuing. "And you're now going to marry his sister?"

"Yup."

"What do you know about her?"

"Very little," Jake confesses. "Graduated with a Master's in Ecology with a focus on Conservation Studies. Doesn't seemed to have used it so either her family refuses to let her do anything or she just wanted to waste her parents' money, or something else."

"Going for a Master's doesn't indicate an interest in wasting money," Clay pointed out.

"Agreed, but I've got so little information on her I'm inclined to just go ahead and think the worst."

"Are you expecting to meet her when we get there?"

"Negotiations with the parents first," Jake tells him. "If that goes well, then...yeah, it'll probably be a family dinner or something."

"Alright, lets get to it, then."

"Jacob!" Cordelia, Jake's mother, was using her fake happy tone as she held out her arms for a hug. He purposefully avoids the hug and goes for a handshake instead.

"Don't be rude, son," William chides. Jake holds back from glaring at his father and focuses on maintaining his composure.

"Let's just get to business," Clay offers while taking a seat at William's desk.

"And who are you?" William raises an eyebrow at Clay.

"For all intents and purposes, I'm your son's advocate here to make sure he gets what he wants outta this deal. And that it gets put into writing and notarized."

"And what is it that you want, Jacob?" Cordelia's tone was now icy. "We're setting you up with a wife from a good, rich family. You should be grateful to us for that after nearly destroying our future."

"I want a written, notarized guarantee that, so long as I am married to this woman, Sarah and her family will be left alone. You will not look for them. You will not include them in your machinations. They will never have to worry about you or your people bothering them ever again."

"I'm sure we can work something out," William nods. "Good thing I've already got my lawyer here to go over the marriage documents."

The next several hours are spent with Clay and the family lawyer going back and forth over the wording of the official document. Jake is increasingly grateful that he brought in Clay for this part. He's a quick thinker but Clay is a tactician. He can see the loopholes, the workarounds that Jake can't. His parents attempt to engage him in conversation but Clay had advised Jake to keep quiet during the negotiations so he did. Occasionally texting the team with updates.

Finally, Clay and the lawyer shook hands. The deal is typed up and printed. Jake, his parents, Clay and the lawyer all sign. The notary had arrived an hour before, called by William. They looked everything over and added their stamp to the documents.

Jake took the contract, put it in an envelope and gave it to Clay before turning to his parents. "Okay, let's go meet my future wife."

Prologue -- Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness;@ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[maaarshieee]

⎯⎯ ୨ Sick Days ୧ ⎯⎯

ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ 2.0k words ┊ Fluff-Hurt/comfort *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

now isn't this such an interesting plot? hehe,, something short to keep the creative juices flowing plus i think it's funny how unhinged my zandik interpretation is... have a great day/night!! OH AND IM BEGGING FOR PANTALONE, WANDERER, ALHAITHAM AND DOTTORE REQUESTS HEHEHE, also this got out of hand...

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: canon typical violence, basic dottore warnings, mentions of experiments, arguing, choking but not really?

It wasn't often that you'd get sick ever since you got together with Dottore. Your immune system has gotten better throughout the years, all because of the medicines and special treatments Dottore has put you through. Of course, these were only for you, and everything he has done only benefited you. He never dared to hurt you on purpose, only wishing to keep you healthy, safe, and sound.

So whenever you get sick, usually once every year, he'd be the one keeping an eye on you. Not a segment, no, screw everything else! He will take care of you and he will not give a damn about the Fatui until you've fully recovered. You always tease him for this, cooing at how sweet he is, which ultimately pisses him off and leads him to give you the most bitter concoctions he could ever make. You should be honored that Dottore himself is taking care of you (not like you had any say about it, he will get upset if you don't let him nurse you back to health).

With a cold, wet piece of cloth on your forehead, sniffling lightly as you struggled to breathe due to your clogged nose, you couldn't help but reminisce when your eyes wandered over Dottore's back. At the moment, he's taking notes of your vitals and overall health for the past few months, making sure nothing else was amiss. "Hehe, this reminds me of those times..." You rasped from your bed, snuggling more into your blankets as you closed your sore eyes. The sounds of Dottore's clothes shifting and the click of his heels indicated he was walking towards you, then the silent screech of the wooden chair told you that he had taken a seat next to your bed.

Even without opening your eyes, you could see the huge scowl on his face. How could he not? After all, he was an absolute mess when he got sick.

"Zandik, I swear to Celestia I will strap you down on one of your operation tables if you don't stay on your bed and let yourself recover in the normal way!"

"I can make my own damn medicine, why do I have to drink those ones you've bought at the market!? Have you no faith in my medicinal expertise!?"

"YES. I DON'T, BECAUSE YOU'VE POISONED YOURSELF 3 TIMES ALREADY. GET YOUR ASS BACK TO YOUR BED."

From early in the morning, to late at night, your neighbors always send noise complaints to the house you're currently renting while you studied at the Akademiya whenever Zandik was sick. Which was pretty often! With his ungodly sleep schedule, nonexistent breaks, and endless business, you wonder if his specialty as a doctor was only a bullshit thing he made up because he's always driving himself to death with his research. Oh, and he forgets to eat at least 2 meals a day.

And with him being sick, you're splurging extra mora to buy food from restaurants and taking them back home because you couldn't cook for shit. Zandik was the cook of your shared home; he even gives you death threats when you step into his 'territory' (the kitchen).

He's seriously the end of you. You don't understand why you even put up with it.

After physically wrestling Zandik back to his bed, hiding his damned scrolls and files about his research out of his reach and locked inside your drawers, you can finally put a wet piece of cloth back onto his forehead, watching him shiver at its coldness. Heaving a small sigh of relief, you unbuttoned his messy dress shirt and began wiping his body with another wet cloth with Zandik's hands gripping your wrist but still allowing you to rub all over his warm chest. It seemed to be a tad effective, his tense muscles slowly relaxing under your touch and his furrowed brows finally straightened, the back of his head falling onto the pillow.

"Fuck's sake Zandik," You muttered under your breath when his breathing grew heavy, struggling to breathe through his clogged nose. Taking out an ointment that you've been working on for the past few days, you sneaked your hand under his sweaty head to lift it up lightly, letting him sniff the ointment and biting your bottom lip, hoping that it was effective. And it proved to be a success when his breathing slowly smoothened, cheering internally. "Good, it worked." You shook your head in disbelief as you began rubbing the ointment on his shoulders, all the way down to his chest, trying to alleviate the ache in his body by massaging him. "Can't believe the ointment worked considering I only picked up medicine ever since you came into my life."

As expected, Zandik groaned at the returning warmth on his chest, shooting you an accusing glare but you only pressed your hands a little harder against his shoulders, rubbing with careful motions. Before Zandik could open his mouth, you quickly explained the ointment you made. "It's made out of a bunch of cough suppressants, topical analgesics, and some essential oils. Not a cure for any illness, but it helps relieve muscle pain and its vapors can help clear your breathing." You say each word slowly, letting his hazy mind catch up with your explanation. "Feeling any better?"

Zandik let out a grunt, baring his teeth at you, before silently admitting that he was feeling much better than before. "... My muscles don't ache anymore and my nose isn't clogged." Then he scowled again, eyeing the small container of ointment in your hands. "I'm not fond of its strong smell and warmth."

"Well, that's kinda the main thing about it."

Zandik rolled his eyes, shuffling on the bed and trying to sit up, only to be flicked on the forehead by you and laid back down. "Then I ought to make a better ointment than yours." He swatted your hand away, and you could he just became more aggravated. "What's the point if it's not a cure? Just because it made me feel better doesn't mean you're better than me."

His words definitely shocked you. And enraged you. So much so that you've accidentally dropped the basin full of water, where you've been dripping the piece of cloth, down to the floor. Zandik's eyes snapped to yours and he saw, for the first time, the way your eyes so viciously glared at him, mouth curled into a deep frown. "Well, excuse me for making an ointment only for you because I was concerned about your well-being because when you're sick, it's 10 times worse since you don't give 2 shits about yourself." You started, and Zandik wanted to argue but you kept going, shutting him up when he felt your hand wrap around his neck, squeezing the sides of his neck, but not entirely choking him. This caught him off guard, eyes widening at your growing rage. "I know you're bound to make some discovery that can make you immune to most illnesses, that's how good I think you are. But by the time you'll reach it, you'd be dead because you refuse to acknowledge that your body is deteriorating from your lack of care! And I have to care in your stead!"

Zandik struggled to speak with how tight your hand was wrapped around his neck, but he managed to muster out a whisper. "Then why do you care?" If he's such a burden to you, why even go as far as wasting your time on him? Your concerns and worries when he clearly inconveniences you. He knew that you've been missing classes and your due dates for your projects just to help him get through his fever and make that ointment, but he doesn't get why.

That seemed to anger you even more, but now it paired with glistening tears in your eyes as you grabbed his unbuttoned collar, hands shaking. Zandik couldn't tell if it was from your fury or something else. "Because I love you, damn it! I care about you because ever since you barged into my life, I started falling for your stupid antics and got invested in your research!" Zandik seemed stunned at your confession, his hands slowly making their way onto your wrists. "I started caring when you suddenly promised that you'd make me immortal alongside you! When you'd cook for me every damn day because I'd go broke or starve to death if you don't... A blind person could say you care about me as much as I care about you, so I made this stupid fucking alternative medicine to make this easier for you!"

You let go of his collar, letting him fall onto his back which made his head spin. His head pounded painfully from the massive headache he got from your yelling and manhandling, but could barely care, only keeping his eyes on you, conflicted. Throwing the small container of ointment to the ground, you picked up the fallen basin and walked out of his room. With one last glance back at him, you cursed under your breath before saying; "Don't get up and sleep, Zandik." Then you shut the door with a slam, leaving him all alone in his room.

For the next few days, you noticed that he'd grown more compliant to your demands, only reduced to grumbling against your wishes but still obeying nonetheless. You could only assume that the words you've said to him that night affected him, seeing that he's even willingly putting with your ointment's strong smell. In no time, he's back to his normal self, no longer sick and back to conducting his research, but trying his best to be a little healthier. At least now he's eating more than he usually did, and the bags under his eyes have lessened.

You were extremely relieved, and after a few days of his recovery, you finally decided to stir problems back into the house with a big smirk on your lips. "Glad you're taking yourself now, Zandik." You commented one morning, catching a glimpse of him drinking coffee on the kitchen counter whilst you washed the dishes. All you got from him was a grunt as a reply, but that was enough for you. "Though, I didn't think you'd actually believe me when I told you I loved you." You heard writing pause while you kept your head turned back from him, already imagining the expression on his face. "I guess you can say my acting was pretty convincing, wasn't it?" But it truly wasn't acting, you did love Zandik, and in the heat of the moment, your emotions caught up to you last night. It wasn't intentional, your confession, but it was your true feelings. You just didn't want him to take it seriously at the time being since you were still unsure if it was mutual. You have no idea going through his head most of the time.

Not uttering a single word, he threw his cup of coffee at the wall, right next to your head. Without sparing a single moment, you ran toward the doorway, catching sight of his seething form with a laugh escaping your lips. You'll say it was a joke for now, something you had said to convince him to let you care for him. It wasn't that bad either, since he'd begun sleeping and eating more out of spite, just so you wouldn't be the one taking care of him if he ever gets sick again.

"I'm sorry for lying to you, dear." With a chuckle, you leaned into his touch as he caresses your warm cheek. In his hand was a small container of the ointment you created just for him all those years ago. Contrary to his displeasure, you quite liked the strong smell of the ointment. "But I really did love you at that point in our relationship."

Dottore pushed back the hairs that stuck on your forehead due to your sweat. He had a small frown tugging on his lips, "Was that necessary?" He sighed and shook his head at the memory, slipping off his gloves so he could put the ointment on your skin. You merely shrugged, but your smile remained. "Nope, but it did make you think about how you felt toward me, right?"

"I suppose so." He says, planting a kiss on your cheek.

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[toomuchracket]

okayyyy hear me out. d word matty sick fic either before or in the early days of them getting together officially. matty spotting u at work Clearly unwell and having to physically drag you out, insisting all the while ur fine despite yacking in the work toilet like 5 minutes prior. confiscating your laptop so you cant try go answer emails. dodging ur attempts at work chat for the next couple days as ur getting better

oh yes ok so you're like right on the cusp of dating matty - you've hung out a couple of times and it's been sweet but platonic and quite frankly you're both desperate to see each other more often and more seriously. which makes it all the more awkward when you take ill at work and he clocks it - he rocks up like 2 hours after you start to find you sitting at your desk, skin greying a little bit, wearing your cardigan and denim jacket indoors yet still shivering, despite it being literally early june. and he's immediately side-eyeing like "you alright, sweetheart?", to which you're like "mhmm just chilly", and matty's like "hmm ok"; it's a tuesday and it's really quiet in the office, so he sets up his laptop at another desk nearby and keeps an eye on you while he responds to emails and whatnot, unconvinced that you're actually alright. and he's right to think that and be concerned - you're visibly shaky walking over to file something, and then at one point without warning you clap your hand over your mouth and run to the bathroom. when you come back, looking horrid, matty's like "you're not alright, darlin', i think you should just go home", and you're shaking your head like "nope it's fine i'm fine i'll stay. i think i just ate something weird a couple of days ago. no big deal", but literally three seconds later a wave of nausea hits you so hard that you have to grab the bin from under your desk in case you throw up again; you don't, but it's enough for matty to put his foot down and say "nope, i'm giving you a lift home right now". and you're like "no really it's fine. if i have to go i'll just get the tube" and matty's aghast like "you're going to get the tube when you feel like shit? do you want to fucking die? come on, babe". he's got a point - the thought of puking on the tube is a horrible one - but you're still like "i just don't want to inconvenience you, matty. and also, like, what if i yosh in your car? that would be awful", and matty says "you're never an inconvenience to me, sweetheart, really. just want to make sure you're ok". you swear his eyes soften when he says that, and your heart flutters as the two of you smile sweetly at each other - the moment ends quickly, though, as you double over with a stomach cramp and matty's like "actually, maybe bring that bin with you to the car, just in case", before he helps you gather up your shit and ushers you out to his car. you tell him your address (you're quite excited and a bit relieved to hear him say "oh, that's not too far from me! this is the way i'd drive home anyway, babe. and we're on the same train line"), and thus begins the journey; it takes slightly longer than expected because of roadworks and traffic, which matty repeatedly apologises for, but you're both secretly grateful for the extra time spent together, listening to one of matty's insane playlists and chatting, so much so that you actually feel sad when he turns onto your street.

he parks outside your house and carries your bag to the door for you sweetly; less sweetly, though, he does make you forfeit your laptop "so you can't sneak on and work while you're meant to be getting better. don't you try to argue, sweetheart, i know what you're like". you blush at that, which makes matty giggle - after that, he hugs you and kisses your head, running back to his car before you can even react to the affection and promising to check in with you later. and he does; he calls you after dinner that night to see how you're feeling, and you can hear him rolling his eyes when you say "good. haven't eaten, but i've stopped puking, at least. should be fine to come to work tomorrow". matty's like "oh my god please just focus on feeling better, babe, work can wait. in fact, i'm putting a moratorium on work chat. tell me what you thought of my playlist in the car instead", which makes you laugh, and the conversation is just unprofessional after that. he even pops round with flowers on his way home from work the next day - you berate him for going out of his way just to see you, but you're very touched that he would (and lowkey mortified that this is how he's seeing the flat for the first time, you being an invalid). when you tell matty as much (not the bit about the flat), he blushes and shrugs like "like i said, sweetheart, you're on my route home. and i like seeing you, and talking to you" - he takes a nervous drink of his tea and then says "maybe we should start commuting to work together, once you're feeling better. makes sense, if we live near each other. and i know my mornings would be better if you were the first person i saw after i woke up". you smile back just as shyly like "i'd like that. get you on the half 8 train tomorrow?", and matty's like "it's a date" <3

[amarguerite]

I cannot possibly pic a favourite, so have some random love on all the ones I have notes on in my personal notes file. This means I have read it at least once in the past six months. I'm in therapy for everything below so... trigger warning for relearning how to talk to myself?

The Brooklyn99 AU

This story taught me to laugh at myself, not just guilt trip myself. I go back to it every time I need that. This is my version of a coffee shop AU. "I'm a mess, he's a mess, oh god the whole system's a mess, we'll do some messy fucked up shit because of it, and we'll damn well laugh about it later."

The Selkie AU where ObiWan finds Rex's Coat

The contrast between Anheda/Jango and my own parents was one of the reasons I started going to therapy. I go back to this one whenever I need ideas for friendly prank wars. I always say "I'll stop reading after the first third, before the Plot consumes me" and I never do. The Plot always consumes me.

The Regency AU where Elizabeth has a soul mark

Your portrayal of Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam is everything I aspire to in a relationship. I've been treated badly, and told I was being unreasonable for expecting this kind of respect in a relationship. This story gives me hope - if someone else can dream it, it must exist out there. I like the ElizabethxDarcy story, and the ElizabethXWellington story, but the ElizabethxColonel Fitzwilliam is the one I keep coming back to.

The Dragons AU

Elizabeth has a Non-Human Soulmate (her lovely dragon) and she still gets to have a handsome lovely husband! GAH! Also the story of how they hooked up with the fake wedding is just so much fun. A common theme in all your writing is how it's not just about the main couple, but about the entire community. Love this.

(I can understand why the Mary Crawford one never got finished - that fic was going some dark places! But thank you for sharing as much of it as you did. I love your Mary, and everything she was going through.)

The Pyeongchan and Prejudice AU

This was brilliantly done. Mr Collins had me in stitches. Marriage isn't as big a deal anymore, but an athlete's entire career being on the shoulders of a young 20something is just as heartrending. I like how you have the characters' physicality be a driving force, like you did in the Dragons AU. I like this less than your other stuff, and I don't know why and it's bothering me because this is brilliant.

Oh dear I think a couple of those are not mine, but thank you so much for all of these!! I’m so glad you liked so many of them and that they had such an impact. Also please do hold out— you aren’t unreasonable for wanting that kind of respectful relationship. They do exist!

[crescentmoon-flower]

Rewatching winx season 4 for nostalgia and realizing how wierd some things are

Ep. 5

And even though they said they don't want attention, they're flying?

Homeless man cameo at perfect irony point

...I just noticed this but why do they always stand on their toes when in fairy form?

I feel sorry for roxy, imagine being told that not only are you a different species than you thought, but also the balance of the entire world is riding on you.

What are duman's transformation limits?

This whole break in and set a trap is actually clever, if only the trap was better

Cute kiko

Why did they all kneel if only Ogron cast the spell?

Ok that interaction between riven and Brandon was cute.

They kind of already do, except nabu though, he looks like a monk

Well at least helia's got his priorities straight

Also nice world building, gardenia is expensive to live in

Riven defying physics with a newspaper, also smart for looking at newspaper adds

Sassy brandon

You know what, not a bad idea to try mechanics

MR. OIL THE MECHANIC

Also I love how nabu didn't change and still looks like a monk and the mechanic isn't questioning it

Oh my god this is painfully awkward

Did Riven break the hood of that car?

Ok that has got to be illegal or at least questionable, did they file tax before giving blooms parents their investment back?

Eh, I'm not going to question these details

Oh my god musa PRINTED the pictures of Stella half awake

Also this is a very fair concern to have when dealing with animals, they didn't mention some of the darker things that could happen to a pet after adoption but it is always a valid thing to keep in mind

Wow, mitzi is annoying

At least they came to the correct conclusion, but aren't they going to question how the wizards managed to cast the spell?

Property damage nullifies the closed sign Stella put up

I don't think what's good or bad for business is relevant when propert damage or bodily harm are bigger concerns

Did duman have to get close to cat the spell? It's seems redundant and frankly an unnecessary risk

... did.. did anagan get rid of the Sound waves with sound waves????

What even were either of those spells bloom? They did like nothing

ALIENS!!!!! I mean he's technically not wrong though

Ok creative Stella good job

Riven raising good points

Ditching jobs, to shame

Aw naw! Oh my god gantlos sounds adorable

What was gantlos's idea?

Thank you timmy, thievery is bad boys

HOLY SHIT

Ok Riven, and probably all the boys, shouldn't be driving

Oh my god this interaction is so awkward and honestly I feel for mitzi here, she literally knows nothing and suddenly they're at her door

Flirting

aisha and nabu are adorable

Oh no, mitzi and her obsesion

Both stella and Brandon are in the wrong here

"A girl never let's her Prince charming go" Ironic

I mean an actual valid reason for being fired

....I feel awful for only now noticing timmy wasn't there, but also why wasn't he?

Ep.6

Half packed apartment, realistic

I don't know how to feel about watching Stella eat for several unnecessary seconds

Huh didn't expect musa to be the most invested in the book

Also I wish we had more world building for believix, I have so many questions

Noooooo, helia's hair cut

SASSY BRANDON

Ok Riven is my spirit animal

Stalker nightmare

Note, if someone is doing something you don't like and makes you uncomfortable you have every right to tell them to stop, no matter their feelings

Tecna has good points

Aisha your great, never change

Oh my god are they seriously painting with several colours on top of each other wet?? This is a disaster

Uhhhng, this second hand embarrassment is horrible

Thank you tecna for stating the obvious

That's creepy, just knock girls

Roxy you are acting suspicious

What was Stella hanging from?

Well their tone changed drastically

Also roxy, crazy people are dangerous

What is this silent conversation between bloom and roxy

Well that could've gone far worse

You lost one group of loonies and found another

Oh my god roxy needs therapy after this

Also irony for artu to bite duman

I love Cute villains

Bouncy light, makes sense

Aisha? Love you

Creepy duman love it

Holy shit ogron is strong

I love ogro

Get the poor girl some therapy

Roxy your awesome, insult them more

I do actually love believix, it looks really pretty and has a nice concept

Roxy looks pissed

Ah, cliff hanger

[gallavich-headcanon]

Reappears days later with *checks cup* cold black coffee leftover from this morning to talk more Galladads

Ian and Mickey no speaking for two days??? with their co-dependency? I don't buy it. - ohhoho I do think they talk, of course they do, it’s them, but I think Mickey is a little unsure of how Ian is gonna take the appearance of four kids so he just…doesn’t mention it yet. Ian will be home soon and then they can talk it over so why borrow trouble? Mickey is like 78% sure it’s gonna be fine so what does it matter? Like I imagine this whole thing started as a test run for Mickey anyway

He doesn’t tell Ian that Tony is dropping off a toddler for a couple of days because Mickey wants to make sure he can do this before telling Ian bc Ian will take one look at the kid and his ovaries are gonna weep or some shit (“I don’t have ovaries, Mick.”) and that’ll be that but Mickey doesn’t wanna get Ian’s hopes up unless he knows he can do this. So. Ian and Lip are going to Florida for a weekend to do something for Fiona, which gives Mickey plenty of time to test drive this whole baby thing.

And it goes…good, actually. The kid’s not quite one and a half and small enough to just pick up and move when needed. She can’t work doors yet, or reach the stove, but she can point at things she wants and make word-like sounds to tell him when she’s hungry or bored or whatever. Once he realizes “Ba” means bottle, “na” means no, and “ya” means basically everything else, they’re kinda golden. Mickey gives her some red plastic cups to play with and she’s occupied for a couple of hours just stacking the things up and knocking them over. Easy. He texts Tony that he’s keeping her and it’s done. Mickey can’t wait to see the soft, dopey look on Ian’s face when he opens the door holding their little girl. That’s late Saturday afternoon.

Ten o’clock Saturday night, after Mickey’s figured out how to put the bed thing Tony dropped off together and the little one’s conked out, he’s just got off the phone with Ian and had to physically bite his lips not the ruin the damn surprise when there’s a knock on the door. It’s Colin’s girlfriend, or is it ex-girlfriend? (Colin got life for armed robbery while Mickey was in Mexico and Mick’s not 100% sure where Natalia stands on commitment) It’s Natalia and two kids about Franny’s age, boys he thinks, and a couple of suspiciously large garbage bags that Mickey will quickly learn is filled with toys, random clothes, and a file folder containing highly illegal fake birth certificates with his name on them. Mickey whisper argues with Natalia for a good twenty minutes but then the toddler wakes up and in the time it takes him to go grab her from the bedroom and come back, Natalia’s gone and the boys are yawning on the couch. Sucker punched. It’s too late to do anything so the boys get set up on the couch, the little one goes back in the bedroom and Mickey gets a beer. He thinks about texting Iggy, the only one who stays in contact with Colin (who the fuck gets arrested in Iowa?) but it’s late so he texts Ian g’night and goes to bed. He’ll figure it out in the morning.

The morning brings a text from Ian saying they’re about to board the plane again and the airport reception is shitty which is probably a good thing because it means Mickey doesn’t have to figure out how to get three kids to shut the fuck up while he’s on the phone. Breakfast is a hassle but the boys can talk at least, and there was a box of Cocoa Puffs in one of the garbage bags so at least everybody eats. (If Ian had been there, he might have cautioned against pure sugar for breakfast, especially since Mickey let them have soda as well but Ian is dealing with air travel and gate changes and Lip so he has his own problems.)

The sugar high is rough going but Mickey’s got this. It’s a bit like dealing with Franny mixed with being in jail. The trick is to make everybody think you’re on their side. Your brother stole your action figure? Let’s get him. The little one starts crying when she can’t run as fast as the boys? Cool, nobody’s allowed to run. Hey, look, cartoons! By lunch, all three are passed out on the floor watching some brightly colored show and Mickey’s ordered pizza and chicken poppers for lunch. He’s got this. Ian might be a little thrown by three kids instead of one but eh, they’re both from big families. They can cram some bunk beds at the end of the hallway if they take the door off the hall closet. What little boys don’t like bunk beds? The surprise is still on.

The knock on the door isn’t the pizza however. It’s a milk crate. Specifically a milk crate of formula, diapers, and tiny tiny clothes with the smallest baby Mickey’s ever seen balanced on top. She’s tiny enough that when Mickey picks her up he can cup her head in one hand and she lays neatly along his arm, minuscule toes just barely reaching the crook of his elbow. Ian could probably hold her in one giant paw alone. Mickey feels like he’s gonna break her if he thinks too hard. This is an actual baby. A baby-baby. She can’t say “Ba” when she’s hungry or point at the tv when she’s bored. She can’t loudly announce she has to go potty or yell “me first!” and try and beat her brother to the john. She needs him to do all that for her, to know all that, to be good at all that and Mickey is terrified.

But she starts to fuss, just gentle little sounds, and one itty bitty hand flails out and he catches it without thinking. Tiny fingers latch on to his bigger one and squeeze tight, grip much stronger than he’d have guessed, and holy shit, she’s settling down again, seemingly just needing to hold on to Mickey to know she’s okay.

He kicks the crate inside and sits at the table, gingerly laying her down on it in front of him. She looks like Joey a bit, meaning she looks like Mandy too, both of them looking more like Laura than Terry or Terry’s brother Sam. He eases off the stained pink cap and sees a shock of black hair. The boys have Colin’s dirty blond curls, and the little one must have gotten her mom’s reddish-brown locks but the baby has the same jet black hair Mickey does. He blows out a breath and the baby scrunches her nose up.

Someone knocks on the door again, pizza this time, thank god, and then the boys are awake and demanding ketchup for the chicken and burning their mouths on the pizza even though Mickey told them to wait, damn it, and the little one is reaching small hands up onto the counter for “Ba! Ba!” and in the chaos, Mickey doesn’t hear his text alert go off once, twice, four times as Ian’s messages come through that they’re ‘delayed but okay’ and ‘want Chinese for dinner’ and ‘hey everything okay?’

Somewhere between shutting down a ketchup fight, eating two bits of pizza himself, and taking the batteries out of the remote so the little one stops pressing random buttons while the boys yell about Transformers, he googles how to change a diaper and then has to clean up pee off the table when the baby decides she just can’t wait for a new one. Mickey shoots Ian a thumbs up before he tosses the phone onto the top of the fridge because Nicky and Tommy might not know what “don’t wake the baby or she’ll scream” means but they absolutely know what an iPhone is and they wanna play with his every time they catch sight of it. Mickey feels like maybe he never gave Fiona enough credit because he’s about ready to go back to prison but at least he’s not trying to raise Carl.

He misses Ian’s call when they land, misses the ‘on the way home’ text, misses Lip’s ‘yo Ian’s doing that thing where he’s not worried but he’s worried, ya wanna answer your phone’ message. Turns out feeding a baby includes burping a baby or they just puke it back up. Also she may be unbelievable small but the baby must be 90% lungs because when she decides she’s not happy, she makes damn sure everybody’s knows it. The baby crying sets off the little one crying, and the boys don’t cry but they do start fighting each other for no visible reason so Mickey kinda has his hands full.

More cartoons, more pizza, and a bold-faced lie about being out of soda gets Mickey to four o’clock Sunday by the skin of his teeth. There’s another knock on the door and if there’s anyone under the age of sixteen on the other side, Mickey’s going to Canada, because fuck it.

The person on the other side is Mickey’s definitely over sixteen husband. He looks tired and frowny and he’s holding a bag of fried rice and egg rolls and if Mickey were a different man, he call him an angel but this Mickey has had to piss since the Great Diaper Blowout of 2 PM so he just (gently) thrusts the thankfully happy baby at his husband and makes a beeline for the bathroom and it’s locking door.

He hopes Ian brought enough egg rolls.

(Look what you made me do, does this count as fic? Lol 🦖)

HOLY FUCK 🦖 ANON I am speechless!

1,631 words 8,643 characters

(“I don’t have ovaries, Mick.”)-> cracked me up!

So just Tony's toddler at first. He can handle her. Maybe he doesn't even think Tony is really going to leave them forever you know, maybe Mickey thinks he might change his mind in a couple of days, you know? No need to freak Ian out for no reason if Tony will come back tomorrow, right?

Then he got Colin's two boys, Nicky and Tommy, around Franny's age. Okay. At least Franny will have kids her age to play with for once. Awesome.

there was a box of Cocoa Puffs in one of the garbage bags so at least everybody eats. -> 🦖 ANON this is too fucking funny. For no reason.

The trick is to make everybody think you’re on their side. -> Mickey is smart like that! He is a surviver!

The knock on the door isn’t the pizza however. It’s the smallest baby girl Mickey’s ever seen. -> oh oh! Well at least Mickey had some practice with newborns when he raised Yevgeny (or is there no Yevgeny in this AU?) Wait- is the baby Mandy's or Joey's? this is so stressful and the babies aren't even mine!

Lip’s ‘yo Ian’s doing that thing where he’s not worried but he’s worried, ya wanna answer your phone’ message -> this is the most canon thing ever.

Ian showing up, gets handed a baby, finding 3 kids in his living room and his husband just ran off. Ian is a better person than I am, because I would walk right out of that mess and eat my fucking spring rolls on the way back to the airport.

This is literally a mini fic. A solid one shot. I have just received a one-shot in my inbox. I love my life.

[nsomniacsdream]

I'm on the cusp of 40 and here's all the wisdom I've figured out.

1. Sometimes you need to just sit quietly. Cup of tea or whatever, blanket wrapped around you and just breathe for awhile.

2. Everyone is insane, to a different degree. The human mind is complex on the level of galaxies, but you will never convince some people that child abuse is wrong because that would mean their mom, who they love, did a bad thing.

3. If you try to convince someone of something, and you try your best (sources, citations, studies) and they still don't change their mind, you can stop trying. Seriously, either someone is capable of changing their mind or they're not, there isn't a whole lot of in between.

4. Mayo goes on the bread, mustard goes between the meat and the cheese. It doesn't make a huge difference, but its the right way to do it.

5. People cannot help themselves from showing you who they really are. Seriously, no one can keep up a charade on the order of months and years. There will be "red flags", and you'll ignore them because you've decided they're not like that, but they are.

6. There is vanishingly little you can do on a global stage. Unless you were born very rich. Focus local, make whatever small changes you can locally, and hope enough people can change their locale that the effect is global. If you try too big, you're just gonna drive yourself crazy.

7. This is a really hard one: stay calm. It can be really hard when someone gets up in your face yelling about shit, calling you names, but understand: you losing your cool doesn't help, and its giving them what they want.

8. Keep physical copies of the really important things and get a fireproof lockbox. Birth certs, wedding photos. Tech fails ALL the fucking time, seriously. You're gonna plug in that memory stick one day and it's gonna say files corrupted.

9. Bad thoughts are fine until you act on them. Your brain is built on the same chassis as a crocodile, sometimes you will think about violence.

10. American politics is stupid to the point of laughability, but you still have to be involved. Make sure you vote, if only for the peace of mind that comes with knowing you did it.

11. Most salespeople hate their job. It is not too controversial to say that sales is literally the worst. Like in a "this is actively holding back humanity" sort of way. Don't get mad at them personally, but also understand that they are paid to lie to you. Even the true things they say are lies because they're using them to trick you. Do. Not. Listen. To. Salespeople.

11b. That used car was not driven only on Sundays by a little old lady. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. It was a car some rich kid got for his 16th birthday and he did considerable damage to the transmission, but you won't find that out until just after the lemon law lapses.

12. Be kind, but know that nice is not the same as kind. Nice is often a mask for just the worst people, kind is something rarer and so fucking wonderful when you find it. Hold on to those people.

13.if you find a really fucking good local restaurant, tell EVERYBODY. Those places are like tripping over a huge diamond at random, and so many of them go out of business before they really catch on.

14. Find fun where you can. It's hard out here, and if playing video games, or tabletops, or flower arranging or whatever! makes you happy? Do it.

15. Be nice to dogs.

[projectorpheus]

SYCORAX ⋅𖥔⋅ UTP, UTP ⋅𖥔⋅ STEALTH

trigger warnings: car accident, depression, sibling death

Playing WarTag is like upgrading from four lines of movement on a D-pad to Fulldive VR: 360-degrees of laser guns and base captures in zero gravity, physics and odds calculated in less time than most would take to itch their nose. There's an optimal play for each scenario, and you're a logical player, striking at an opponent's mind; at their weak points, forcing rival teams into domino chains of losing choices. You innovate on Maneuver Warfare like picking a scab on the back of your hand. At the end of the day, you stick to this one basic principle: that it's not the degree of force but the application of it that keeps one a winner game after game. You and your sibling are a household name among WarTag fans. Your dads, flavor designers at S Corp's "Goop Lab" don't know where the two of you got your jock genes from, and sometimes, you wonder why your sibling couldn't have chosen anything else to do. They trail you like a wad of toilet paper stuck to your shoe: they copy your moves, your style, steal your friends, and worse — they become better at WarTag than you. Back-to-back, they ransack your place in the spotlight. All you can do is suck your teeth and wonder why.

You're driving the two of you back after a public shouting match at a gala when your nights of too-long workouts and endless game theory sessions fueled by shots of HyperEnergy catch up to you. It's just for a second, but you nod off at the wheel, and the next moment, you're on your back, your hovercar flipped over, a sheet of metal jammed through your sibling's throat. That's when the rumors spread: that you were drunk, that you did it on purpose — THAT YOU KILLED THEM. You're kicked from the team. You move back into your dads' house, reeling from PR damage, a pariah with zero prospects for the future. Time bends into itself; becomes circular. You lose months staring up at the ceiling. If only you could go back in time and undo that moment. If only you could close your eyes and this time, this time, wake up from this terrible world.

DYNAMICS

KEPLER  ⋅𖥔⋅ BOTH THE OCEAN AND THE ICEBERG ARE MADE OF THE SAME MATERIAL. THAT THE ICEBERG SEEMS SEPARATE IS ONLY BECAUSE IT IS IN A DIFFERENT FORM.

You stumbled upon their file at your therapist's office when your therapist stepped out for an emergency. A chaos addict, heartless, lacking in empathy. You read about they pulled the emergency release valve and left their father to die, how S Corp covered it up, how they don't seem to give a shit about it. They're worse than you in that they made a choice, but they got to hold onto a public-facing career. You hate them and everything they stand for. How if things had gone differently, you could be them and they could be you. 

NAIAD  ⋅𖥔⋅ FICTION, BECAUSE IT IS NOT ABOUT SOMEBODY WHO ACTUALLY LIVED IN THE REAL WORLD, ALWAYS HAS THE POSSIBILITY ABOUT BEING ABOUT ONESELF.

You were lost when you found them, accidentally intercepted one of their messages and found your first post-crash friend. Would you communicate with them if it weren't for your downfall? Probably not, but they sent you story after story, and eventually, you sent them stories back. And then, for a few months, you became so low you lost track of time. It was too late to write back when you came out if it. Still, you wonder about them, about what they look like, the texture of their voice, day after useless day.

ATLAS  ⋅𖥔⋅ WE ARE BUT FEVERED STARS: HERE A LITTLE WHILE, BRIGHT WITH PROMISE, BEFORE WE BURN AWAY.

Other than your parents, they were the person you hurt most. Your friend first and then your sibling's lover, drunk at your doorstep, asking over and over again, why, why, WHY? You never have answers. Not about the accident and not about the things they tell you — about their own guilt, all of the things they could've done better, when they're so fucked up they mistake you for the person they loved. You wish they'd stop coming. Still, you can't find it in your unending pit of loneliness to turn them away.

OPEN ⋅𖥔⋅MADELEINE MADDEN

[itscatchyouintherye]

Hit Me Where It Hurts [ReaderxGeneralHux]

An interrogation escalates. In several ways.

“Get up!” The General shouts at you.

You’re on all fours, head pounding from the slap he just delivered to your face. It was the fourth or fifth, maybe the sixth - you’re not sure at this point. Especially because you have been in a room with Hux for surely over an hour by now; and what started with stern and calculated questions, escalated to him trying to get something out of you with physical violence.

Apparently, you didn’t react quickly enough to his liking, so he rams his shin into your side, making you collapse and gasp for air.

Shielding your head, you lie on the cold ground of the interrogation room, wondering how to convince this spiteful man that you’re, in fact, not a traitor. The way he reacted the last million times of you telling him that…your future isn’t looking bright.

“Get up, you pathetic cunt!”

Hux using such vulgar language completely catches you off guard; More than any slap ever could. You look up at him, astonished.

His face is as hard as it has been since he closed the door behind you, but even he appears surprised by his own loss of composure.

The moment of stillness on Hux’ side, enables you to finally stand up and gather your thoughts. Whereas his escalating demeanor scared you before, you now begin to find it gratifying. You wipe your chin clean of the watered-down blood that dripped down. You bit your tongue, and it mixed with your saliva. You also straighten out your uniform and run your fingers through your hair. Anything to make you feel dignified. At least a little.

“I got up.” You say with the most nonchalant voice you can muster. “Now what?”

The General straightens his back and takes a step towards you. Against your efforts, it makes you flinch. A disgusting smirk tugs on his lips when he sees it.

“We’ll do this aaaaaall over again.” He tells you.

“How many times will until you believe I don’t know!”

Hux gets in your face, and you feel his breath on your neck when he snarls: “Until you beg.”

You lightly turn your head and let your eyes dart over his face and upper body. You’ve never been so close to him. At least not in a position that allows you to focus on anything but pain.

You notice the freckles on his cheeks and how truly fiery his hair is and how he’s lightly panting.

This is clearly getting to him in a way that makes him not relent. Otherwise, he would have executed you by now. Why does he insist to keep going?

“General…” You say quietly. “I don’t know who gave away the passcodes. Nothing in my personnel file would suggest that I am a traitor.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?! I-“

“Apparently, yeah.”

Oops. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Hux strikes you again, but this time he immediately grabs a fist full of your hair to yank you back up. You yelp, painfully craning your neck to somehow relieve the burning sensation on your scalp.

“Do you have a death wish?” He growls.

“No.” You reply through gritted teeth.

“Then tell me who gave away the passcodes.”

You take a few deep breaths, willing yourself to neither cry nor beg; Giving up on the possibility that you might get back to your job after this and rather focus on if you even make it out the room alive.

“I told you,” You say, voice rough by now, “I don’t know.”

Hux lets out an annoyed sigh and goes to readjust the grip he has of your hair. The moment his fingers unclasp, you let yourself fall down and violently throw your body against his. With a surprised ‘oof’, he goes down with you, landing on his back.

You scramble to get off him, driving your knee into his stomach while at it, and hurry towards the door. You make it two steps, before his gloved hand grabs your ankle to stop you, causing you to stumble and fall right back down.

The air is pressed out of your lungs and your arms, you fell on to catch yourself, hurt like shit.

Relentless, Hux holds on to your ankle and drags himself over the floor and onto you. Next thing you know, he’s grabbing the back of your neck, fully body weight on top of you.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Me restating that I don’t have a death wish and would like to get out of here.”

“I’ve been going at you for over an hour, how do you still have the energy to be snarky?”

“The First Order taught me well.”

He chuckles. Hux actually chuckles at that.

You’re not so sure if that’s a good sign.

Either way, you stay still and breathe shallowly, your own breath ricocheting off the floor your cheek is pressed against.

Now, the next thing that happens will forever be up for debate. Did he start it? Did you? Was it on purpose by either party? What about the power imbalance? What about the violence? Is this romanticization? …

Mostly, this is happening right now, so you cannot care to keep pondering.

Hux moves again, not loosening the grip he has on your neck; it causes his crotch to drag over your ass and for the splinter of a second it feels good to have him on top of you.

You hold your breath to suppress that thought, but Hux senses it too. He feels it too. Because you both fall completely silent and the energy in the room shifts noticeably. All of a sudden, this isn’t a violent interrogation, it is General Hux dry humping you.

All of a sudden, Hux is desperate to convince you of something. It was obvious from the beginning that he enjoys this, but now a new kind of enjoyment became palpable.

You snicker.

He huffs.

Violently, he pulls you up as he gets to his feet. It hurts, of course, but you don’t cry out like before. You stay quiet. You force him to fill the silence.

“Last chance, Lieutenant.”

You don’t reply.

He finds your eyes, glaring at you.

You only wipe your cheek clean and blow your chaotic hair out of your face.

Unbelievably angry and reckless, he spins you around and walks you up to the wall, shoving you against it. You manage to absorb the shock with your arms, that are bruised and basically numb by now.

You usually, naturally, would have braced yourself for him to shoot you in the back of your head. But he walks up too close. His breath is too hot on your neck. He’s panting too loudly.

“What kind of sad strategy is this?” He asks. “Giving me the silent treatment?”

You press your lips together to not audibly react to his closeness. To the intensity this whole interaction gained.

He shoves you against the wall again and kicks your legs apart to fully lean into you.

You gasp.

He slaps the wall next to your head.

“Answer me, Lieutenant!”

“I have nothing to say.”

After a pause, Hux yanks your hips back and reaches around you to open your belt.

“I’ll give you something to talk about.”

You shiver, aghast to realize that you do not want to protest.

He rips your pants down and when he claws into your ass, you feel that he took his gloves off. He really wants to touch you.

He presses one hand between your shoulder blades to keep you in place while slithering his other down your thighs and back up to reach your cunt.

You flinch when he drags his fingers through your folds and finds your clit. It makes him circle it harder. Which occupies your thoughts enough to only realize that he took his hand away from your back when you hear him unbuckle his belt and open the zipper of his pants.

Within seconds, he is dragging his dick where his fingers just were. Impatiently, he tilts your hips further and adjust his stance to be able to tease your entrance with the tip of his dick.

You whimper at the sensation and the feeling of him being incredibly hard.

Slowly, he moves back and forth, never fully pulling out of you.

“I told you I’ll keep going until you beg.”

“And I told you I have nothing to say.”

“Your cunt suggests otherwise.”

He shoots back and pushes in further, causing a wet noise to echo through the room.

“So does your dick.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

Cursing you out, Hux snaps his hips and shoves his dick fully into you.

You yelp, not expecting him to be this big. After all, you haven’t seen his dick yet.

He bites into your shoulder and begins to thrust without giving you much of a break.

You groan, head lolling to the side, embarrassingly highly enjoying every second.

Hux plows into you tirelessly, proving to be as relentless as his politics suggest.

He also proves to be as cruel, because the moment he feels you tighten just a little bit, he pulls out and turns you around to face him.

“Beg.” He snarls.

You snake your leg around his hip and pull him closer. “No.”

Both panting, you stare each other down.

“Fuck you.” Hux says, lining himself back up with your entrance.

“Fuck you.” You hiss.

Then he pushes back into you, and you clasp his face with both hands and silence your first full-on moan with a kiss.

It’s an angry kiss. It’s a desperate kiss. It’s a yearning kiss.

You don’t break it for a long time. You deepen it. You tilt your head, he bites your bottom lip and thrusts harder, you push your tongue into his mouth.

When you do break it, he breathes out: “Pathetic cunt.”

“Feels amazing, doesn’t it?”

And then you’re devouring each other again, your thighs shaking, his dick twitching inside of you.

“I’ll apologize for hitting you if you beg.”

You have to blink several times to focus back on Hux’ face. To remind yourself who you’re actually fucking.

“Oh, so we’re bargaining now?”

“You proofed yourself to be good for something after all, might as well…”

“And what is it that I’m good for, General?”

“Being a wet hole I can fuck.”

This strikes a nerve with you. But not the one Hux intended.

Because you clench hard and cum with a groan.

“Shit, fuck…” He mumbles, working against the resistance of your spasming walls.

Clawing into his shoulders, you try your best to hold yourself up while you go rigid and waves of pleasure shake your body.

Surprisingly, Hux is the one to sink down. You follow him, straddling him as soon as your knees hit the ground, and rolling your hips to slip his dick back into you.

He kisses you, body overheated just like yours, and fucks into you from below. You’re barely able to meet his erratic thrusts.

Soon, his head falls back and his face contorts and he cums with a groan.

You both still, averting eye contact even though you’re too high from your orgasms to feel real shame.

After a long moment, you get off Hux and roll to your back to pull your pants up, ignoring the mess between your legs.

You hear fabric rustle as he does the same.

However, neither of you stands up. You lie on the cold ground, staring at the ceiling, shoulders almost touching.

“Thank fuck I deactivated the cameras.” Hux suddenly says.

You burst out laughing and finally look at him.

He’s already looking at you, eyes darting over your face.

“I really am sorry.” He adds, whispering.

You let out a hum but then say: “You almost got me.”

“Got you?”

“To believe that you’re sorry. And beg.”

“What do you think you’ll do first?”

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Oh windows is pulling some BULLSHIT

I paid for windows 10 because I wanted to makes sure anything I might use for game development was bought and paid for, and they've been annoying the fuck out of me with forcing updates when I said not to and re-installing windows apps and services I uninstalled or disabled, etc... Basically windows is acting like it's natively full of spyware and bloatware... but anyway

I wake up this morning to my computer going "remember how I just updated even though you told me not to? well haha it was to give you this message that windows 10 isn't going to be supported anymore come 2025 and also you don't get to upgrade to the next version even though you paid for it, haha sorry :) here's what we think you should do after paying to have windows again because we decided to switch versions, haha"

... SO YEAH, linux then, and I guess if I need to test games on windows I'll be doing it with a virtual machine running some modified windows 10 with this key I paid for IG...

Because the fucking reason I wasn't using linux is because if I got on my computer expecting to just have a chill time and suddenly something wouldn't work for me I would be so pissed I'd have no ability in that moment to fix it rather than just feeling like I was going to have an aneurysm, But then windows kept eating all my resources with background processes to the point where I would randomly suddenly not be able to play a particular game ever again even on a new file, or where I suddenly couldn't watch a video.

Last time I couldn't even watch x-files from my own hard drive the background processes responsible were some remote access shit [Which I have turned off], some windows problem reporting service, and hey I noticed edge was back and using up resources after I uninstalled it 3 times. And then when I shut down the remote procedure, which should only be necessary to run a program off another computer in my network [there is no network I live alone] it decided windows itself couldn't run without it and shut down, but also decided to update, even though I had it set not to.

This whole "I come on here to play a game or watch a video and chill and it is suddenly not fucking working"... Is why I was avoiding Linux for daily use. Because I didn't want to have to be tech savvy on my off hours.

But now it's doing that and also insisting on running 500 background nonsense that is not fucking needed at the physical expense of damaging my hardware, and at the expense to me of keeping me from being able to play games... At first raft got to be too much and I wrote it off as being because of all my building and the sprites, okay, but then sons of the forest was fine one gaming session and then the next day was so choppy I had to just restart it, and then just wouldn't start up again without absolutely crashing my whole system... nothing changed IN THE GAME between these days, it wasn't a slow run down as I kept building more like it was with raft, it just stopped functioning all of a sudden.

And then I go to fix a problem and windows has made it so you can't, or turns services back on that you told it not to run, or re-installs edge on you repeatedly after you keep removing it...

Like no, windows, I did not give you my fucking money so you could use my hardware for your own purposes while feeding me moldy breadcrumbs of my own fucking hardware use.

And you might be thinking "This sounds like you have a virus or some serious malware D:" but no... No I am pretty damn certain this is just windows now.

To windows "user friendly" was always synonymous with "remove user access", then "remove user control", and now finally "User obtuse" because in their minds the system is theirs and you are just using it.

To me "user friendly" means I am allowed access to the machines inner thoughts so we can communicate without our corporate overlords needing to approve.

[whichdirectionamigoing]

Chapter 7 - K-9

"So.. You're a regular guy, huh?" Arez asked him. "Yeah, can I go now?" I heard him shuffling around. "No. As you can see, your hands are tied." She countered. There was a snap. "Fuck." She didn't sound to move at all.

"Okay, if you go, K-9 will chase you down." She stated, deciding on her new threat. I pulled my Nightwatch out of my pocket and clicked it into the air, priming it. "I see." He chose to stay put.

Arezs voice hardened, interrogating the man. Everything about him. Work, life, personal, anything. I'd been so used to interrogations I began to tune them out. Instead I focused on my own thoughts.

I focused on my own emotions, for better or worse. I was angry with everything. I had nowhere to go. I had two options. To go back home, back to the fucked up leadership, to the lowlife city, to withdrawl, and to routine. Or I could stay, where I was forced to work with the woman I hated more than should've been physically possible, with the variety and unpredictability, and where the few I knew I could trust were.

The work I was supposed to do in both places was bullshit. Sometimes I wondered if it'd be better to tell the police to go fuck themselves, and see what Sparrow was up to. I knew Enhancement wouldn't give any shits either way, after all. That was a problem for another time.

Something on the dash beeped at me. A voice started to reside from one of the many devices Redacted had attached. "We've got a few new missions, and luckily I have some new recruits. Judging by how over the past few hours, none of you have given any complaints, I'm saying you all work together just fine. You're team Delta now. Last team Delta got brutally murdered. Try not to repeat their mistakes. The missions will be ranked on difficultly. Hardest one is going to be on Amypso, and you guys are really going to have to get along for it." Valerie explained.

"What've we got to do? Figure out what we need to focus on practicing with eachother. Also, speaking for K-9, why us?" Jimpix asked, eyes on the road. I punched their arm. Not hard. Too hungover for that still. "We need your directional strategy skills, Becketts quick technological maneuvers, Redacteds ability to blend in, Arez's brute force and voice, and K-9s endurance. However, there is a slight chance we may lend K-9 to team Quebec for that mission. I'll keep you posted. I'm needed elsewhere. Discuss." With one last beep, she was out.

"She really judges our abilities based on a few hours of crimes and violating traffic laws?" Redacted sighed from the back. "According to my standards, only crime we committed was kidnapping." Arez slid into a seat. "Oh yeah, nevermind the assault, stalking, running red lights, speeding, and general dangerous driving." Jimpix commented. "Different worlds, different rules." I groaned. This was going to get old real quick.

"Those are all crimes." Anthony reminded. "Nobody asked you. Shut it." Arez snapped. "What're they gonna do? Arrest us?" Redacted countered. "Yeah. They can, and they probably will. Or they'd shoot us on sight." Anthony explained. "Good fucking luck." I laughed sarcastically.

"So, your cops actually do shit huh?" I could hear Arez walking around a bit. "Look I'd rather not think about the cops right now." I groaned, the light beginning to fuck with my head again. "Your file said you are a cop?" Redacted asked, a hint of caution in his voice. "The fuck? No!" I was sick of people assuming that. I worked with the police occasionally, but I wasn't a cop.

"Then what are you?" Jimpix turned to face me. "An Enhancement Netrunner." I vaguely flicked my eyes over to look at them. "According to the files I dug up on your Earth, Enhancement is a branch of the police." They raised an eyebrow. "No, it fucking isn't. The badges work for the government, and Enhancement works for corpos. There's a difference." I turned to the side window. This fucker was starting to get irritating.

The scenery wasn't of any particular interest. A lot of trees. It was too green for my liking. Too.. Alive. It reminded me of Serewall. Boy did they love their plants, and cleaning up the mess the rest of the planet made. This place didn't have the buildings like Serewall though.

The sky was beginning to darken to grey. An environmental scan told me a storm was brewing. Storms were pretty neat. I was always fascinated by the destructive capabilities of lightning. I liked the way it cracked across the sky, letting the entire city know of its presence. It was oddly beautiful.

This was a cold storm. Cold was pleasant. Snow, not so much. I liked the vague pain of the cold, and how it allowed me to cover my arm without question. Of course, that took a rubber lining and gloves, but sometimes it felt nice to look normal. Snow was awful. It would stain my clothes black, and it completely fucked with the arms systems if it got in, which was pretty easy considering how much was exposed. It was waterproof for the most part, but it still couldn't handle the black dye. It was a pain in my ass.

"And yet you're anti-corpo." Arez finally seemed to pick a seat. Fuck, Anthony was probably learning way too much about me here. "Corpos pay me." I began to raise my voice. I wanted to go home and maybe beat the shit out of someone. No doubt Enhancement had some bounties for us. "...According to the files, you probably don't get paid as much as you say." Jimpix spoke up again. "I don't care." I shifted my body to turn away from them further. I got paid enough. Besides, I had... Other ways, of getting cash.

"Yeah sure.. Anyway, can I ask you something about Enhancement?" Jimpix paused for a moment. "Nothing I say will stop you, so go ahead." I sighed, watching these 'trees' fly by. "The files say Enhancement training is borderline torture.. Is this true?" They asked. I paused for a split second, debating a response.

"You and your fucking files." And with that, I marked the conversation as done. "The files are the only way I know anything about your planet." They told me blankly. "I don't fucking care!" I closed my eyes again. "Jimpix didn't like that." One of my programs told me. "Shiit! I still don't care!" I thought to myself.

"Can we pull over for some food..?" Anthony requested from the back, speaking overtop of the argument. "Food.. Would be beneficial." I mumbled to myself. "I'll see what I can find. There isn't a lot around here." Jimpix told us. I ran a self-scan. The diagnostic summary told me I was too cold, starving, and hungover. Could've figured that out myself.

"Hey, dumbass, let me drive for a bit, yeah?" I offered. I had an idea. Jimpix eyed me cautiously. "Don't worry. He can drive absolutely anything you give him. Can even pilot jets. Or so, his Enhancement files say." Redacted assured them. Knowing Redacted had read over those files would make my life a lot easier. Or harder. "If we end up in a ditch, I'm not working with him again." They sighed, pulling over.

We hopped out front and our group had a little change of positions. They must've been at least 7 feet tall. They almost scared me. Almost. I've seen weirder shit. I slid into the drivers seat, and forced an electrical reading out of the van. This was going to be even easier than I thought. I turned to Arez, who had claimed the passenger seat. I gave her a small smirk. She nodded.

Here we go.

"Slow down. We're breaking the speed limit." Jimpix insisted. "And?" I prompted. I tapped into the satellite system around the planet, getting a quick GPS reading. "We'll get pulled over and fined." Anthony supplied. "Aannd?" I flexed my hands on the wheel. Arez leaned over me and rolled down our windows.

I turned sharply, and immediately saw the rain spreading across the sky. I rolled up the glass barrier between us and the back. "Time for a little fun." Arez leaned out the window, scanning the area. Thankfully, Beckett nor Valerie had anything to say about this from the Artemis.

Arez took a headset out of the glovebox, the only way to speak to group in the back. I slammed on the gas. 140. 150. 160. 170. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, approaching the edge of the storm. "My readings say we're going about 200 kilometers per hour. Slow down before you crash and kill all of us!" The receiver on the dash flickered to life to play out Redacteds order.

"Kiss my ass!" I shouted. "Slim chance!" Arez leaned out the window again, taking in the wind. "What is wrong with you two?!" Jimpix called. "You should see him on an Evolution Focus! Rides it like a fuckin' bullet!" She closed her eyes, preparing for the rain.

The water crashed down on the windshield. We broke 230 kilometers per hour. The rain sprayed on my face from the open windows. It took nothing for my scanners to see the cars in front of me.

I started swerving between cars, ignoring the endless stream of honking. The road was mine now. I could feel every rock in the road, jerking the wheel left and right. There was the high I was looking for.

I could tell we were going up a hill. This was going to get fun. "We're all going to die." Jimpix sighed over the receiver. "Trust me, he knows what he's doing." Arez yelled to the wind, hair being pinned against her face. We were approaching the peak of the hill. "Hold on to your asses." Arez growled, gritting her teeth.

I took my foot off the gas, just for a moment while we rocketed down the hill. The world slowed down while time sped up. It was steeper than I anticipated, but not enough to warrant the brakes.

Few things were enough to need the brakes. I was notorious around Grand Lane for crashing into barriers. Everyone in the Lower North Circle knew how badly I crashed into light posts. Other cars though? If I totaled another car, I was fucked. Nobody cared about a bit of damages at least.

We slammed onto flat road again. "Jesus fucking christ! What was that!?" I could hear Anthony scream from the back. "What.. What.... Oh, I swear to Vivien! What the fuck!?" Redacted yelled over the receiver. "To be fair, I *did* warn you." Arez countered.

I sped up again, checking each sign as I remembered our agreement to get food. I ran some quick searches on common fast food places in our area. It spat out a ton of restaurants in the general area. I ran another GPS search. I found an "Onroute." Supposedly it had food. Now I just needed to find and follow the signs.

"Glad we know for next time. K-9 is NOT allowed to drive." Jimpix announced. "Mm good luck with that." Sign located. I knew our path. "It'll be doing the universe, and more importantly, us, a favour." They verbally seemed to roll their eyes at me. "Have fun getting there at noon, while I've been there for four hours." I leaned back in the seat, letting the van slow down as we drove up a ramp.

"As if. What'd you even *do* for those four hours?" They asked. "Sleep, most likely." I admitted. "Really? You could fall and stay and asleep for those four hours?" They almost seemed to laugh. "He's been trained to sleep while leaning against walls because he rarely gets to rest at night." Arez told them, hitting her head off the van.

"Enhancement really is wild, huh?" Redacted snorted slightly. "You don't even know the beginning of it." I sighed. All those things.. It probably should've been illegal. But nobody could really stop them. And well? Well, we knew what we were signing up for.

We were signing up for shiny fresh implants, a steady cash income, and a side of torture. And we knew it well. Sure, the trauma that automatically came with the job wasn't the greatest, but the pros outweighed the cons.

It was probably for the best that I could now see the Onroute. A stone and glass building, littered with tables and chairs. I slid us into the first available parking spot I could find. Immediately and eagerly, I could hear everyone in the back jumping out.

I pressed the door open with my hand, stepping onto the rough pavement. "So, where are we?" Anthony wisely asked. "Fuck knows, fuck cares. You guys want food or not?" I crossed my arms. "Yeah. They got any donuts?" Arez hopped up on the hood of the van, taking a seat as she vaguely glanced at the building.

"From my research, 'Tim Hortons', or simply 'Timmies' should have donuts." Redacted walked along the top of the can, fluffy paws against metal. "Cool. Anyone want anything else?" I mentally jotted that down. "I'll take a burger or something from A&W." Anthony stuck his hands in his pockets, keeping a close eye on me. He seemed.. Familiar.

"Alright. That it?" I turned to Jimpix, who was far away from the van by now. "I'll have something back at the A'." They decided, hands on hips. "Fries." Simple, and not even elegant. Sure, Redacted, sure. "Got it. Redacted, this place got any coffee shops?" I watched him sit, beginning to bathe as a cat would. "Timmies or Starbucks." He told me, flipping onto his back. "Thanks. Wish me luck." I flipped a tin of Quills before putting it back in my pocket.

Chairs. So many chairs. I scanned the area, trying to make a mental map of the place. It had appeared the Enhancement implants had taken effect, and I no longer had a hangover to put up with, thankfully. I identified the Tim Hortons, narrowly dodging traveler's as I walked past. Then came the waiting in line. I took it as an opportunity to look around.

It had a strange energy to it. I watched someone brush their teeth just outside the bathroom. Someone downed a drink, with about 6 identical empty bottles beside them. Someone wore a neon pink hoodie, black shorts and red sneakers.

I looked up at the menu, deciding on the order in a fraction of a second. Then it was back to people watching. I could see Jimpix arguing with someone outside, arms flailing angrily. Nobody seemed to care anymore. They just did whatever.

It reminded me of the recovery rooms at Ripper. We'd down alcohol, painkillers and coffee within the span of ten minutes. Sometimes we'd beat the shit out of eachother for the fun of it.

Somehow, it had brought back the memories of Century Tech. My early twenties, still new the world. Then my late twenties, regretting every decision I had ever made. For the most part, they were a good corp to work for.

Flourencent lights, couches, showers, bathrooms and a long sink under mirror. Everything you'd need to freshen up before a meeting, or to intimate some City Rat bastards.

That was where you could see women ripping off layers upon layers, men walking around with only a towel because they ran out of soap, and me spitting blood into the sink. Nobody thought anything of it. That's just how it was. Down some painkillers, huff a few drugs, brush your teeth and get on your way.

I needed to stop zoning out into memories like that. Two people stood before me in the line. I shifted around, acting as if I wasn't soaking wet. Actually, most of us were. It was quite the storm out there. I could feel the ground shaking from the thunder. We'd get back to the return spot in a few hours, just needed to...

Thats when the first shot rang out.

[c-tim3]

Selfish desire - Vyn

Tears of Themis - Vyn

Word count: 1.5K

GN attorney reader x Vyn Richter

Genre: fluff with a little bit of tension, NO smut

Possible trigger / TW: mention of food for two sentences (a meal), physical touch, messed up sleep schedule, a lot of eye contact, could trigger your daddy issue due to a manly figure caring about you!

Contains: cuddles, comfort, softness, holding each other, caring about you and taking care of you, falling asleep at the end

Have a quick glance into the Oneshot!

I don‘t know if that was a compliment or a bold but nice insult from him… I stay silent, thinking about what exactly it was he used. His hands move down to my back. Gently going up and down. Am i that transparent?

„Y/N. I knew because desires can be our downfall if we do not control it. Most people will do so much for their own selfishness. It‘s disgusting. But you‘re just to curious for this world.“ shit, he‘s right. That‘s kinda unfair… I barely know how he‘s feeling and here I am. Exposed.

Also: Do NOT copy and repost my work to claim it as your own.

You are allowed to share it! <3

Y/N = Your Name <3

Let‘s begin!

How did you end up in this situation?…

We were simply fooling around and here we are holding each other close. His scent smells like roses and sweet tea. It’s a perfectly balanced smell. I can smell it quite good even tho he is just holding me really close to his own body. Ok it‘s like, really close I must admit.

It drives me crazy.

*FLASHBACK*

„You can… move a little closer, lean against me and take a rest Y/N“

„Dr.Richter- I don‘t think this is quite the right time for this. We have to solve the case“ I sighed in distress while my eyes are glued to the documents

„We stayed up all night for this case and it is already 7 am my dear Y/N. We should rest. I also can not believe that I let you do this to yourself“ was all he responded. I felt his voice vibrating in my body, deep in my core.

Of course I was freaking tired but… why should I admit that? It‘s normal for an attorney to have this kind of sleep schedule. What I don‘t quite understand is why he stayed up with me all night. He could have just gone to sleep like i‘m not even in the NXX Headquarters.

Vyns sudden movement brings me back to Reality

„Dr. Richter what are you doing?“

„Oh, do not mind me. I will be back in a moment.“ He smiled and adjusted his glasses. „Stay here in the meantime“

He didn‘t even give me a chance to ask another question… where was he going? All though he said he will be right back I still wonder what he‘s doing… normally he says it willingly what he‘ll do. Why not now? Also, why the hell would I listen to him and stay? I have my own free will and can chose what I do with my life!

Sitting there a few minutes waiting for Vyns return you look around. Then at the case files. Hm, maybe he‘s right. My concentration is getting worse and I can barely keep my eyes open…

I can‘t suppress my curiosity and stand up, following him in the direction he was going.

I can’t hear him. It‘s dead silent. I look around. Listening for a sound on the floor. In the walls. I only hear my own breath. And… Cooking water? The kitchen? I quietly. No, quickly walk to the kitchen. suddenly I get grabbed and I can’t move. Wait- I can‘t move?!

„Hey- What are you doi!-„

„Shhh“ Vyn calmly says and smiles as he holds me close to his body. His golden eyes looking right into mine as if he could see my soul.

„What are you doing Dr. Richter?“ I Said quieter this time. Not resisting him in this current position.

„I am making you take a break. I knew that you would follow me.“

Wait- was he serious?…

„How did you know?“

„I simply used a little psychology trick, nothing more really. You are easy to read, which makes it easier for me.“

I‘m not sure if that was a compliment or a bold but nice insult from him… I stay silent, thinking about what exactly it was he used. His hands move down to my back. Gently going up and down. Am I that transparent?

„Y/N. I knew because desires can be our downfall if we do not control it. Most people will do so much for their own selfishness. It‘s disgusting. But you‘re just to curious for this world.“ shit, he‘s right. That‘s kinda unfair… I barely know how he‘s feeling and here I am. Exposed.

[Desire is natural. If you do not control it, it will be your downfall sooner or later.] Right, that‘s what he said to Artem that one time… why exactly he said that I‘m not sure.

„I‘m really that easy to read huh?“

Kind of a pity… if I have a surprise for him he would know it even before I would! If I act rash or sudden, would he know to?

„Yes you are easy to read. But only because I know you as a friend and team partner. Now would you be so nice and give me my glasses back? I want to see you clearly“

Hey, I can use this do my advantage! can I trick him into thinking what I will do next? I look into his golden eyes with a slight teasing grin.

„Are you saying that you desire to see me, Vyn? Can‘t you be selfish sometimes too? You‘re only human yourself you know.“

Vyns eyes widen surprised. That‘s because he didn‘t saw this answer coming. Suddenly he smirks charmingly, using this moment to lean closer to my face. Looking deep in my eyes with his beautiful golden eyes that shine so beautifully in the ligh-

„So what if I do? I can also lean this close to you so I can see you. I can see your perfect details like this just fine. Due to my Nearsightedness that is.“ I feel his warm breath against my lips. I imagine how is lips would feel against mine… soft? Warm? A kiss full of love and passion?

Staring into each other’s eyes, being this close to one another not only face to face but also body on body. I feel the heat in my body begins to rise quicker than paper would be on fire. That‘s not good… but, is it?

„U-Uh. Dr. Richt-“

„Call me Vyn.“ I felt his warm breath again within his sigh.

„Uhm, Vyn.?“

„Yes? What do you want to say to me?“

I stare into his eyes. What do I wanted to say again?… as i start to loose myself in his eyes my gaze get‘s softer. I look at his eyes, his lips and his nose. His soft cheeks.

A few seconds pass when i finally collect myself again.I look around for a good second. Damn it… i can‘t reach the table when we‘re so close like this. As Vyn is still observing your every move, your facial expressions (yes even the micro-expressions) i look at his glasses in my hand. Here goes nothing.

I put his glasses back on due to the lack of movement in my body to reach the table. I lay my hand on his cheek and still look at his features, completely loosing myself into his gaze. Again. Oh his gaze… how soft it was. Do caring. Looking at me in the most loving way one could imagine. It‘s like the world has no troubles and worry’s. The safe place you go to every time you don‘t feel well. His soft lips kiss my hand, helping me gain control over myself again.

„Y/N? You wanted to say something“

„Ah!- Right“ I quickly remove my hand from his face and look away „so… I wanted to ask why you stayed up all night with me when you could have just gone home and let me work all by myself.“ obviously not because I was to curious about what you were doing!

I feel his hands wandering softly from my back to my face, cupping it with his big hands. I look at him again.

„I am a gentleman, Y/N. How could I leave you all alone working at night? Not only that but when I am with you I can keep an eye on you while you are working. I care for you as I do not want you to overwork yourself. I think I will have a talk with Artem about that today. He has been overworking you lately…“

I can sense a slight bitter tone in his last sentence…

I‘m to tired to ask about it further. Maybe he just doesn‘t like to see me overworked? Or perhaps it‘s because he deeply cares about me? Wants to be with me whenever he can.

„Hmm. if you want to then go ahead“ I nod. He‘s not wrong after all… I stay up all night just to get to work early in the morning. Sleeping in my lunch break and therefore not eating much… oh how badly I want a good meal after this case is over. I sigh.

„Sometimes it‘s not fair that you‘re always right Vyn“ I look at him. He quietly laughs amused.

„Oh my sweet Y/N“ he easily lifts me up and carries me to the guest room in the Headquarters. „Let’s call it a day, lean against me and let me take care of you.“ suddenly feeling my tiredness I lean against him as he brings us to the bed. „Excuse me that i will be in the same bed as you“

„I don‘t mind Vyn“ I snuggle up against him, taking in his comforting scent. There it is again, the rosy tea scent that I love so much. Finally relaxing i add: „I don‘t mind if it‘s you“

As i fall asleep in his arms, feeding off of his body heat, i hear a faint „have a good rest my love. I will make you something to eat after you have Woking up“ with a soft forehead kiss following.

— — — —

That‘s it everyone!~

I hope you liked it, make sure to like it please~

This took more time than it should‘ve ngl.

Also, this is my first Oneshot in a VERY long time so don‘t be to harsh on me now