#why do i always get these ideas and then have too many things to want to do at once??

[harrysfolklore]

hi! can i request a little bitch blurb where oscar walks in on them 😂

FIRST LITTLE BITCH BLURB OF THE YEAR!! honestly i could never get tired of writing for them and requests keep coming so, enjoy!

READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

"You're sure Oscar won't be home for hours?" Carlos murmurs against your neck as he presses you into the kitchen counter, his hands sliding under the oversized shirt you'd stolen from him.

"Mhm," you tilt your head to give him better access. "Simulator day at McLaren. He'll be gone until evening."

"Good," his accent thickens as he nips at your pulse point. "Because seeing you in my shirt all morning has been driving me crazy, mi amor."

You smirk, running your hands down his chest. "Oh? Is that why you've been following me around the apartment like a lost puppy?"

"I have not-" he starts to protest, but you cut him off by pulling his shirt over his head.

"Really?" you trace the muscles of his abdomen. "So you didn't deliberately walk into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth? Or need help reaching something in the top cabinet that you can definitely reach yourself?"

Carlos growls low in his throat. "You're teasing me."

"Always," you grin, but it turns into a gasp as he lifts you onto the counter.

"Careful, hermosa," he steps between your legs, hands gripping your thighs. "You know what happens when you tease…"

"Maybe I want to find out," you challenge, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His eyes darken. "Dios mío, the things you do to me…"

"Show me," you whisper against his lips.

He crashes his mouth to yours, one hand tangling in your hair while the other slides up your thigh. You moan as he deepens the kiss, tasting of coffee and something uniquely Carlos.

"Mi amor," he breathes between kisses, "you're wearing too many clothes."

"Even your shirt?" you tease, knowing how much he loves seeing you in his clothes.

"Especially my shirt," he tugs at the hem.

The key turns in the lock of your shared apartment with Oscar, but you're far too distracted by Carlos' lips on your neck to notice.

"MY EYES!" Oscar's voice cracks. "IN THE KITCHEN? REALLY?"

You and Carlos spring apart, but it's too late. Oscar is standing there, one hand dramatically covering his eyes, looking like he's contemplating jumping out the window.

"Oscar!" you squeak, hurriedly adjusting Carlos' shirt that you'd borrowed. "You're… home early."

"This is MY HOME!" Oscar protests, still not looking. "Where I EAT! In THIS KITCHEN!"

Carlos has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed, though you can see him fighting back a smile. "Lo siento, Oscar…"

"Don't 'lo siento' me, mate," Oscar points blindly in Carlos's general direction. "That's my SISTER!"

"We weren't…" you try to explain.

"NO!" Oscar cuts you off. "No explanations. I don't want to know. I will never be able to unsee this. I'm moving out. I'm quitting F1. I'm becoming a hermit in Tasmania."

"You're being dramatic," you roll your eyes.

"DRAMATIC?" Oscar finally uncovers his eyes, immediately regrets it, and covers them again. "Carlos still doesn't have a shirt on!"

Carlos looks down at his bare chest as if just remembering this fact. "Ah, sorry about that…"

"Sorry about- THIS IS A COMMON AREA!" Oscar's voice keeps rising in pitch. "We have RULES!"

"Rules?" Carlos raises an eyebrow at you.

"Rule number one," Oscar recites, "no funny business in common areas. Rule number two, no walking around without clothes. Rule number three…"

"Okay, okay," you interrupt, feeling your face heat up. "We get it. We're sorry."

"I'm telling Lando," Oscar threatens.

"Don't you dare!"

"Oh, I'm daring. I'm traumatized. I need emotional support."

Carlos finally breaks, letting out a laugh. "Come on, Oscar. It's not that bad."

"Not that- mate, you're practically my brother-in-law. I do NOT need to see you trying to devour my sister in our kitchen!"

"Brother-in-law?" you and Carlos say simultaneously, though with very different tones.

Oscar groans. "Oh god, now I've given him ideas. Perfect. This is perfect. I'm calling Mum."

"You will NOT call Mum!" you lunge for his phone.

"Watch me!" he dodges, still keeping one hand over his eyes, which results in him walking straight into the wall.

"Dios mío," Carlos mutters, finally grabbing his shirt from where it had been discarded. "Oscar, I'm dressed now. You can look."

Oscar cautiously peeks through his fingers. "This is going on my therapy bill."

"Add it to the collection," you sigh.

"I will! Right next to 'sending nudes to Carlos' and 'that time in the motorhome when I thought you were going over strategy.'"

"That WAS strategy!" you protest.

"Strategy doesn't involve THAT MUCH SPANISH!"

Carlos is fully laughing now, watching the siblings' exchange with obvious amusement.

"This isn't funny!" Oscar points at him. "You! You're supposed to be the responsible one!"

"Me?" Carlos tries to look innocent. "I'm very responsible."

"Responsible people don't seduce my sister in shared kitchens!"

"To be fair," Carlos grins, "she seduced me."

"NOPE!" Oscar practically runs from the room. "NOPE NOPE NOPE. I'm going to Lando's. Forever. Don't call me. I'll be in therapy."

The door slams behind him, and you can hear him muttering all the way down the hall.

Carlos turns to you, eyes dancing with mischief. "So… brother-in-law, huh?"

"Don't," you warn, but you're fighting a smile.

"Because you know," he steps closer, "that could be arranged…"

"Carlos!"

"I'm just saying," he pulls you back against him, "maybe we should give Oscar a real reason to need therapy…"

From down the hall, Oscar's voice carries: "I FORGOT MY PHONE AND I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!"

You burst out laughing as Carlos quickly steps away again.

"I'm moving out!" Oscar announces as he retrieves his phone. "And YOU," he points at Carlos, "are paying for my therapy!"

"Fair enough," Carlos agrees easily.

Oscar pauses at the door. "And sister?"

"Yes?"

"Next time? Use HIS apartment!"

As the door slams again, Carlos turns to you with a raised eyebrow. "You know… that's not a bad idea…"

"Carlos Sainz!"

"What? I'm being responsible," he grins. "Just like Oscar wanted."

You shake your head, laughing. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly in love," he corrects, then adds more seriously, "though maybe we should get our own place…"

Your heart skips. "Yeah?"

"Sí," he pulls you close again. "Somewhere with a very private kitchen…"

"I heard that!" Oscar's voice comes through the door one final time. "I'm telling Mum!"

This time, you both burst out laughing.

Poor Oscar. Maybe you should start looking at apartments sooner rather than later…

For everyone's sake.

[quodo-brainrot]

@tuttle-did-it I'm with you on Troi. I really want to like her because the idea of a counselor who is an empath is pretty awesome, but she doesn't even use her empath powers as much as she could when she's counseling people. I'm not a therapist and I've never been to therapy, but I get the sense that the 'therapy' she gives people is little more than armchair psychology.

And yes, they do have to simplify it for the audience, but the simplification of her methods isn't the biggest problem - it's that her therapy simply doesn't seem to work, even when it's made clear that she spends a lot of time working with someone offscreen. It feels like the only purpose that her on-screen therapy sessions serve is so that we can have a place for certain characters to let out their emotions.

Barclay is a prime example of a character who is not going to talk about his feelings anywhere other than in a therapy session because he's too afraid of being judged elsewhere, so those sessions are the only place we get to see what's really eating at him. So it helps the audience, but does it actually help him?

Not really. Barclay is still noticeably a mess at the end of TNG and even into Voyager. And it's true that not everyone responds well to therapy and he might just be one of those people, but I think it's much more likely that the help Deanna gave him wasn't really much more than what you could get from an attentive and caring friend. And it is good to be able to get that kind of help to take the edge off, but trying to present it as the work of the supposedly amazing counselor on the Federation Flagship is kind of laughable.

Dr. Crusher, or any other medical officer, easily could have given people all the same advice that Troi did. I think it would have been much more interesting if Troi's position on the ship was purely for diplomatic and strategic purposes. Imagine if they ditched the 'counselor' angle entirely, gave her a bit of a hard edge and made her as much of an expert on emotional patterns as Uhura was an expert on language patterns.

Instead of just saying 'I sense anger,' imagine if Troi was capable of producing accurate assessments of a hostile's motivations and goals based on the interplay of their emotions, even when it's her very first time encountering a given species.

But unfortunately, the show quite deliberately leaned away from that idea on multiple occasions, as the characters had to explain 'oh no no no, it's not immoral for us to have an empath helping us because we don't use her powers aggressively' or whatever.

I always thought that was a pretty silly thing to do. Why would anyone even bat an eye at the Enterprise having an empath anyway? Realistically, that crew would likely have several empaths. There are many species out there who are empathic and/or telepathic. It's weird that the default reaction is to suspect some sort of moral failing on the part of the Enterprise for using a resource that's actually pretty readily available in the scheme of things.

But if Troi did use her empathic powers to their full potential, it would make it a lot harder to write episodes that involved deception and intrigue. She'd be able to end the plot pretty quickly. I think that's one big reason that they never really showcased her powers as much as they could have.

DS9's Odo suffers from a similar issue in that he'd be WAY too powerful if he could accurately mimic humanoid faces, so as that one post in the DS9 fandom hilariously puts it, Odo is a shapeshifter who's kind of bad at it. But there are legitimately interesting plot points made specifically out of the fact that he's kind of bad at it, and in addition to that, there's a lot more to him as a character than just his shapeshifting powers.

Unfortunately, Deanna didn't get the same treatment. The show tries to set her up to be this really awesome counselor but the results we actually see are pretty mediocre. And the only other role she ever really gets to play other than 'empath' is 'love interest.' Which is a real shame, because I really liked the air of calm and the gentle mischievous humor that Sirtis brought to the character. She could have been so much more compelling if she'd been more fleshed out.

star trek characters will literally go through the most life changing traumatic multidimensional extrasensory eldritch hell torture imaginable and then they're fine and the next episode they gotta deal with a guy who is bald

[illbegottenfaith]

walking away with your kiss on my cheek...

your relationship with theo starts to sour as you begin to suspect him of keeping secrets from you (theo nott x reader)

a/n - first part of a two-shot I've written! Ngl this thing has gone through wayyy too many drafts and revisions so it’s barely an u healthy relationship, more like unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I have a couple of slightly more intense takes on the trope lined up as well :)

tropes/warnings - mildly (veryyy mildly) toxic/unhealthy relationship descriptions, established relationship, mentions of infidelity, miscommunication, angst

word count - 1.9k

When it came to love languages, Theodore Nott’s was distance. Many of his past relationships had failed once he'd deemed them too suffocating. Nobody had suited him quite like you did. The two of you had somehow stumbled into a mutual understanding of what you wanted out of a relationship. Some considered what you shared too casual to be considered a relationship. You had your separate schedules and commitments, and in your downtime, you kept one another company.

But it worked for the two of you. The best relationships are built between people on the same page, and your perfectly aligned perspectives made the little time you spent together that much sweeter. In fact, things had been going along swimmingly until Katherine entered the picture.

She, or at least the idea of her, entered your life one foggy morning. You were dead on your feet. The aconite you had been tending to as part of your Herbology project demanded your every waking moment outside of your classes. You were just about to fall asleep into your soft-looking, pillowy scrambled eggs when Ivy half-yelled into your ear, as she was prone to doing.

"Didn't know Theo got a new girlfriend!"

Your head snapped up and you groaned. Okay, maybe she wasn't yelling as much as everything sounded ten times louder with that throbbing behind your right temple. You blinked blearily at your friend.

"Huh?"

"Someone's been spending an awful lot of time with Katherine."

It took you a moment to register that you had no idea who Ivy was talking about.

"Katherine Sawyer," she repeated. "Theo's been getting pretty cosy with her, hasn't he?"

Something must have shown on your face, because she immediately dropped the suggestive lilt to her voice.

"I mean - I'm only kidding. It's just that I saw them in the library again last night for, like, the third time this week. I thought you knew." She peered closer at your dark eye bags. "Damn. Are you getting any sleep?"

You shook yourself out of the shock and gave a small smile. "Of course I knew," you lied. If being with Theo had taught you anything, it was how to lie convincingly. "I'm exhausted, that's all."

"Yeah, you look it," Ivy agreed sympathetically. "But really, I was kidding. It's not like he'd do anything. Not Theo."

"Right." You smoothly changed the subject. "So how's your project coming along?"

Still, it bothered you for the rest of the day. Why hadn't he told you about Katherine? He knew you weren't the jealous type, especially when it came to perfectly innocent interactions with the opposite sex. Unless there was a reason for him to keep it from you. You had thought that neither of you was the type to keep secrets from the other, but maybe you had thought wrong. And if he hadn't told you about Katherine, well, what else was he not telling you about?

You dismissed the thought. You were too sleep-deprived for this. It just wasn't like him. Theo would never pursue another girl, not while he already had one on his arm.

Right?

These thoughts were still circulating in your head when you found him reading in the Slytherin common room that evening. You approached him as you always did, but something about what Ivy had said that morning made you hesitate. He didn't look up from his well-worn copy of The Divine Comedy in the original Italian until he felt you sink into the couch beside him. He gave you a strange look before pulling you into his lap, nestling his head in the crook of your neck, the way the two of you usually curled up together when one of you was reading.

"Don't be going shy on me now," he teased lightly. You shushed him, tapping the paperback. As you settled your head on his shoulder, he glanced at your face. "You look tired," he noted quietly. You pulled a face.

"Who knew aconite could be such a bitch?"

Theo turned the page. "I knew. I'd say I told you so, but - ow."

You had sharply tugged at the short hairs at the nape of his neck as a warning. You laughed softly as you ran a soothing thumb over the mildly irritated skin, kissing it better. It was moments like these that made it difficult to harbor any sort of suspicion or resentment towards your boyfriend. As moody and mysterious as he liked to come off, to you he was an open book.

But he still hadn't told you about Katherine.

A few weeks later, Theo and a few others were about to leave for a two-week cultural exchange trip to Durmstrang's. Ivy had dragged you down to the Great Hall where everyone was saying their goodbyes, before disappearing into the crowd in search of Ivan.

Somewhat reluctantly, you walked up to your own boyfriend. Between his trip preparations and your Herbology project, the two of you hadn’t had a minute together for the past week and a half, a new record, even for a relationship as casual as yours.

“Got everything?”

Theo nodded. In his soft, fitted navy blue sweatshirt pushed halfway up his forearms, he looked effortlessly put together. You weren’t scruffy yourself, either. That was why you had any kind of relationship at all, wasn’t it? The two of you made an attractive couple, at least when you acted like one.

You looked over at Ivy, whose boyfriend was humoring a much sappier farewell than yours and Theo's. Scratch that, Ivan lived for Ivy's oddities and eccentricities. Right now, Ivy was kicking a fuss over a fortnight being simply too long of a time to be apart while Ivan promised to call every single night. Occasionally, you had wondered what it would feel like to be in a relationship like theirs, where two weeks apart would be nothing short of agony rather than routine.

As you turned back, you noticed Theo had been following your gaze. He cleared his throat delicately.

"So...two weeks."

"Mhm." You weren't the type of couple to explicitly express affection, especially of the vulnerable kind. You'd miss him, of course, even if you didn't say it. Would he miss you? You shook your head internally. No, you decided, you wouldn't ask. You'd only seem clingy and that wasn't the kind of couple you were. "Be good, have fun."

He adjusted the strap of his duffle bag. You fixed the collar of his jacket. You wondered if he'd tell you about Katherine before he left. From somewhere else in the Great Hall, one of his friends called him over. He pressed a final chaste kiss to your cheek. You watched him walk away with a hollow sort of feeling in your stomach. Merlin forbid you express any kind of attachment to your boyfriend.

He glanced back at you one last time, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, and just like that, he was gone.

Gone.

He didn't say a word about Katherine.

As the two weeks crawled by achingly slow, you tried to convince yourself that you didn't feel the lack of Theo. You had gone longer without talking to him. Hell, before you started dating, you'd only occasionally meet through mutual friends.

But you had never spent time apart feeling this acrid bitterness towards him.

Unbeknownst to you, your friends had picked up on your frutration, especially in the way you had thrown yourself into your work with renewed vigour, doing your best to keep conversations from straying to topics related to Theo.

"I'm going to the owlery to check for letters from Ivan," Ivy was saying one evening, pulling a woollen hat onto her head. "Wanna come with?"

You barely spared her a glance, writing carefully. "Can't. I have this essay to finish."

Ivy deflated visibly. "Don't you want to see if you have anything from Theo?”

You shrugged. You couldn’t be disappointed if you didn’t expect anything.

“Have you heard from him at all?” Ivy pressed.

You gave her a warning look. “Ivy. Stay out of it.”

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t you call him? I'm sure he misses you."

You laughed derisively, nearly stabbing a hole in the parchment. You might have done that any other time, but you were too mad about his imaginary affair with Katherine.

“Miss me? Theo doesn’t miss me.”

“How can you be so sure? You don’t know what he’s-“

“Because if he missed me,” you finally snapped, "he’d call. Or send me an owl. But he hasn't, alright? He hasn't called and I haven't gone to the owlery because no one's missing anybody. He's doing perfectly fine without me, just as I'm doing perfectly fine without him."

No one's missing anybody.

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You stubbornly watched Ivy turn blurrier and blurrier as you failed to blink them back. Your gaze landed on your essay, and the spots where your tears had caused the ink to run. Your essay was ruined.

You pressed a trembling hand to your eyes as you finally caved in, a pair of warm, comforting hands almost immediately coming to rest on your shaking shoulders. As miserable as you had been, you hadn't acknowledged the pain, let alone how it was eating away at you. Once you started crying, it was as though you didn't know how to stop.

“Why won’t he call, Ivy?” you choked out. "Doesn't he think about me?"

"Of course he does," Ivy soothed. "He's probably just insanely busy."

You sniffled. "How busy can a person be? One phone call, one letter, anything - is that really too much to ask?"

Ivy hesitated. The silence stretched out between you like the confirmation of a truth neither of you wanted to admit. She said it anyway.

“Maybe he thinks you don’t need that from him."

You laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Well, he got that part right.”

You sounded ridiculous even to your own ears. It was a testament to your friendship that Ivy didn’t try to argue with you. She gave your shoulder one last squeeze before standing, her footsteps soft as she made her way to the door. “I’m going to the owlery,” she said, lingering for a moment. “If there’s anything for you -"

"- burn it."

" - I’ll bring it back.”

You focused on the ruined essay in front of you. Messy smudges had formed where your tears had fallen. It was beyond repair, much like the knot in your chest that no amount of rationalising seemed to untangle.

As the door closed behind Ivy, an unbearable silence descended upon your dorm. You pressed your hands against your temples, willing yourself to stop thinking about him, about how easy it seemed for Theo to carry on without you. Maybe that was the worst part—the inescapable realisation that you weren’t half as essential to him as he was to you.

You stared at the blurred words on the parchment, feeling the ache settle deeper into your chest. There was no scintillating revelation, no blinding eureka moment. Just the quiet, gnawing thought that maybe this was all you’d ever be to him—an afterthought.

And maybe, you thought bitterly, crumpling your essay, you deserved it for letting yourself believe otherwise.

[reidingandallthat]

cranberry juice

spencer isn't sure what to do in his days of addiction but there's one familiar stranger that's present to help him forget, if only for one night, or maybe more.

words: 3.6k spencer reid x undercover!reader tags: well, dilaudid addiction, dark inner thoughts, nausea, mentions of withdrawal symptoms, alcohol, talks of a bar that's commonplace for criminals ig lmao, all for the plot, metaphors using space time continuum, some other nerd talk, yk the usual. reader is supposed to be an undercover agent, but here there's not much mention of it because this is very heavily spencer's pov. very much apologize if there's any inaccuracies with anything.

a/n: EXTREMELY nervous to post this hahaha. this comes from that one post i made, and i have too many ideas for undercover!reader if this even works out, this is purely to quench my need for this idea to happen.

The music in the club- though Spencer thinks it deserves a more modest name- was soft and slow, almost jazz, as the only couple on the dance floor clung to each other, swaying slightly to the music, the other part of the club which isn't so quiet is riddled with people surrounding tables and gambling rich men. It's not a common sight to see him drinking, less so to see him slurring through his words as he orders another one. His head hung low, leaning on the bar on his elbow, his eyes barely opening, a blinding headache obstructing his vision and line of thoughts. Possibly why he was out drinking. 

The bartender gives him a look, obviously sensing that this isn't a common occurrence for the gentleman in front of her, but she obliges. 

“If you wanted to get shit-faced drunk, this ain't the place for it,” She says in quiet contempt as she slides the glass over to him, but wears a smile as she composes herself again.

Spencer already knew that, but this was where his car had taken him, and he really didn't wanna be home. 

Truth was, Spencer hadn't had much to drink, all his symptoms were of withdrawal. 

Insomnia, dilated pupils, nausea, lightheadedness etc etc. he could list a few more. Spencer laughs as all the things he has read about addiction appear like check marks in his brain. None of the papers ever tell how agonizing it is to just exist, how the drug becomes the only thing you need, but the only thing you also don't want. How it feels to want to rip away your own skin, to bash your head against a wall until you feel the familiar pinch of the needle being injected. 

He should have known this would happen. 

When the hours of the night felt too long he thought of driving away, maybe his home was the problem. It reminded him too much of that night. Even in the car he felt like he needed to be out, his thoughts immediately thinking where he could get a dose, how he needed to buy another empty injection, he's used the other one more than twice. He should have known it was his own brain, the one thing he can never escape, it's always been too ahead of him, too fast.

He should have known the need would not go away just because he's away, the goosebumps, the torture would not stop, that he would need something to satiate himself. Even the warnings of driving while under the influence wasn't enough to stop him. 

So here he was, barely aware of where he was walking in, sitting on a chair, his head down, pressed to the wooden table. It's his second drink (that he isn't even halfway through), but sleep hasn't greeted him.

Spencer thinks of things to distract him, entropy, a measure of disorderliness of a system and he wonders how much he would measure on that scale. The world is leaning towards entropy every day, and maybe his callousness today has contributed to that metric, however illogical that thought might be.

It's when he feels the air surrounding him change when he thinks of gravity. Gravity isn't a force, according to Einstein, something people always find fascinating when he randomly rambles about it. It's a “force” caused by the curvature in space time, this is where he loses most people, often ending with someone stopping him as he tries to explain what is a space time continuum.

He lifts his head to see a blurry figure, his eyes adjusting to the light. He'd been sitting in a corner so as to not be noticed, so he's sure his company knows they're not welcome. 

But he's suddenly unsure about his previous claim when he sees you, your head looking at him sideways, chin resting on your shoulder, your body turned towards the bar. You have a curious look on your face, but if he's being honest, it's more amused than concerned.

“Tough night?” You ask, averting your head towards the bar as the bartender comes over to ask your order, a smirk on her face as if she knows something he doesn't. 

“What's your poison?” You ask again as you hand tell the bartender your order quietly enough that he can't make it out.

Spencer doesn't bother to answer, his brain too foggy to be polite, his tongue too heavy to retort.

“Oh, c’mon, talk to me. I'm bored.”

You say again, the amusement laced through every word which makes him more annoyed. 

“Please.” He mutters, not feeling the need to clarify his request, he has no interest in putting up an act with a stranger, it's hard enough to socialise when he's sober, this is hell.

You don't budge, though he feels the glass he's been clutching lightly being taken from his hands. That catches his attention.

He sits up, head still heavy as his eyes squint to let his pupils contract, light dilates your pupils to let as much light as it can into your eyes when there's darkness, a fact running through his brain, a common occurrence.

The glass is returned to his hand, well, another glass but it holds a clear liquid. He takes a sip and grimaces, it's water. 

Drink the water, alcohol dehydrates you-

He pushes the water away, not keen on listening to himself anymore.

“What's your problem with water?” The stranger asks again, and he hates it. Her voice is nice, too nice for his self- destructive mind right now, and he wants her gone.

“What's your problem in general?” He snaps as he takes the water and gulps it down and extends it again for a refill. He's not very aware of his decisions tonight.

From his periphery, he thinks he sees you smirk, taking a bite out of the cherry in your drink, hiding it as much as you can. He can't tell why the action seems familiar, but it is. 

The bartender and you share a look as she takes the shorter whiskey glass and exchanges it with a tall glass of water, and leaves to attend to the other customers.

He thinks of starting a conversation, but he glances at you again and hides another frown. You were pretty, he thinks, and he hides a frown. The day I choose to wallow in my sadness. 

“I didn't know they let pretty people in here.” You speak again, addressing him directly as you drink from a straw. He notices the drink to be magenta, too similar to cranberry juice. She's not drinking, he notes.

He frowns at your comment, genuinely confused, for two reasons. Firstly, he looks like hell, he knows that. Eyes bagged into his sockets, his clothes unwashed for days. And secondly,

“How would you be here then?” He asks, his head tilted in confusion.

You're caught off guard, though he can't seem to figure out why. 

There's no hint of teasing, or amusement in his question, and it feels like a stab in the gut (in the best way possible) when you realise it,

“I can't figure out whether or not you're flirting or you just genuinely asked me that. And I don't know which would be better for my mental health.”

He's confused again, “How would my flirting affect your mental health?” He asks and he hears a laugh. 

Again, it's a nice sound and he hates it. He hates that it's nice.

“Oh, you're adorable.” You say, your hand reaching up to remove a piece of hair hanging over his eyes. He doesn't move away, he usually would, but his actions are a bit delayed and before he can register it, you're getting up and leaving.

He discovers he's disappointed, which surprises him. He hadn't spoken much to you, maybe that's why. Or maybe he liked nice, even in the midst of his self loathing spiral.

He's turning away to call to the bartender again, to bring him a glass of- who knows what. 

He might know all about alcohol, how they're made, their advantages, and disadvantages but he doesn't have much experience with many of them. Nor is he familiar with any of the names. What even is there in a Daiquiri?

But he feels that same dip in his space again, space time continuum, and he looks to see you there again, holding now what looks to just be an orange liquid in a martini glass.

“First cranberry, now orange. You do know you're in a bar?” He retorts with too much sass than he would usually, but he sensed you welcome the spar.

“What am I supposed to do? Take body shots off of you or drown myself in my own misery?” You say casually and it makes him want to laugh a little.

“Not off of me.” He mumbles, taking another sip of his lukewarm water, though he didn't complain. He can hear Morgan say, “Oh, you've got jokes now?”

“Too many germs?” He only nods and continues drinking his water when he jumps at a sudden loud sipping noise, he sees the orange liquid coming to an end in your glass as you sip loudly through the straw. 

He composes himself and answers properly, some semblance of manners peeking through,

“Not particularly off of me. Buy you shouldn't do that off of anybody. Did you know kissing is more sanitary than handshakes?”

He asks and you have that incredulous look again, followed by an amused one,

“I can't tell again. If you're just talking or flirting.”

He frowns, “No, well- I just told you something factual.” Another sip.

You laugh again and he leans in slightly, not consciously, trying to get closer to the sound. 

“You're a rare breed, Mr….” The sentence hangs as a question, you're asking his name. 

He's suddenly aware again of his surroundings. He's at an unknown place, and if he's a good profiler he knows this isn't an honest bar. Not that the neighborhood was known for its safety. 

He stays quiet but you quickly say, “That's alright. You don't tell me, I don't tell you.”

The bartender is back again, now pouring a yellow liquid into your martini glass and he must not have realised he was looking so intently because the bartender raises her eyebrows at him, as if asking if he wants some too. He nods, quite shyly, and brings his glass forward. 

He takes a sip, mango.

“But you shouldn't come in here with that gun so,” you gesture, “up front in here. You're an outsider, and you look like hell. No offense.”

He glances down at his holster and sees the gun, and thinks back to when Penelope had said,

“It's like they gave Bambi a gun. Said with love, of course.”

He knew it was said with love, but the feeling felt more pronounced as you gave your warnings.

“They don't like cops here?” he asks, fully aware he would never actually introduce himself as one, but he thought the title to be hidden enough for the place he was in. 

“So he reveals his profession, I wonder what’s next…” another exaggerated sip, this time he laughs, getting familiar with the strangers’ antics. 

He thinks back to why he's here in the first place as his conscious mind slowly comes back. Spencer had felt the urge again, he was angry at himself. Genius with an eidetic memory, and a few molecules of a  carbon compound take over him. He threw the vial on the couch, still too afraid to break the bottle, and stormed out of the house. It was as if he knew he should come here, the bar was not on his way to work, or on his usual roads. But he was still here, and he felt too comfortable for this to be his first time here. 

He retches over nothing and immediately sees a bucket being handed to him, and the feeling of mortification washes over him.

“I've been here before, haven't I?” He asks before retching into the bucket again, throwing up the mango juice he had just drank. More shame and guilt accompany his embarrassment but his head hurts too much for him to get up.

“It's good you chose the corner,” he only now registers your hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles to provide comfort, and it is comforting. 

“We've met before, yesterday?” he asks again, and she smiles.

“It's alright. It was a short visit. I only asked you your name and you well… you don't need to know. We went to the nearby park. I got you an uber home.” she laughs and this time he does say it,

“It's nice. Your laugh. You have a nice laugh.” his head is hung low, thinking over his circumstances. 

He didn't see your reaction, but he wasn't too eager to know anyway. 

You were pretty, he was too aware of that, he likes your laugh and the first two times you've met him, he was once too out of it, and the second time he threw up. Great. 

“I'm really sorry to inconvenience you, I didn't mean to bother you. I'm sorry-”

“No, no- thats alright. Its good to have some entertainment. I just feel bored here.”

This time he laughs, “Me throwing up is entertainment for you?”

“Tch. you really are bad at this  flirting thing.” Her lips curl into a smile, and he returns the gesture as much as he can. 

Spencer excuses himself to the washroom to clean up, and god it is not a sight to see.

He thinks back to your previous comment, didnt know they let pretty people in here.

They do let them in, but that wouldnt be a problem for him today. He washes his face, another wave of nausea passing through and he tries to think of things that would distract him.

Space time continuum, more commonly known as space-time, the mathematical model where three dimensions of space and one dimension of time fuse together to make a four dimensional model. Large masses, like earth bend space time, “gravity” is felt strongest when spacetime is curved the most. There's no force of gravity, matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved space time leads matter to an end point. 

Two people could walk the same distance in parallel lines with no intention of ever seeing each other, to just follow a straight path, but the curved space time will cause their meet. It's inevitable. 

You sit cross legged, well- your ankle resting on the other thigh as you scribble away on a lone piece of paper, and Spencer recognises it as a crossword as he takes the seat next to you. You're not at the bar anymore, you've moved to a booth. He had come by to say good-bye, but he couldn't help but comment,

“adjudge, across 10 will be deem.” He says and for the first time, he sees a questionable look, you don't say anything and just hand the puzzle back to him and say,

“I'll time you.”

Spencer wasn't one to boast about his intelligence, but at the moment, he felt like the cockiest bastard in town. 

Halfway through the puzzle, his mind coming up with answers faster than he can write them, he hears a quiet ‘what the fuck’ being muttered right next to him and he chuckles. He pushes his pen down hard enough to make a sound against the wooden table as he finishes the last word and slides the paper to you.

The look on your face is laughable, so he does laugh, after god knows how long. 

You take the paper and check it over and after a few minutes you look over at him again and he's laughing again. 

“What the fuck?” you ask, but you don't give him time to answer through his giggles,”Dude, it's been like 7 minutes. that one took me 25 minutes.” You look back at the paper again, as if that would quest your curiosity, “and I thought I was fast.” You lean back, your mouth still open in surprise. 

“25 minutes isn't bad, pretty quick for this puzzle. Don't judge yourself by my standard, I have an eidetic memory. Sorry.” 

“No, no. Never be sorry for being too smart. Atleast you're not a dick about it.” You thank the bartender as she gives you yet another drink, this time it's pink. 

“I’d say what I just did was a dick move, I was flaunting.” He reasons as he observes your drink for a second,

“No, what you did was cool. As annoyed as I am about it.” You defend him, and take a look at your watch.

“People are usually just annoyed. I haven't been described as cool by many people,” he takes a pause, “actually by no one.” Spencer notices your actions and senses some suspicion, but he shakes it off. You must have ordered again when he wasn't paying attention.

“I'd beg to differ,” you take a sip of your drink and say, “I have more if you have time…” The end of the sentence was meant as a question and Spencer nodded his head. He has three weeks worth of personal time. All he has now is time. you rummage through your bag for more unfinished crossword puzzles. Most of them are 90% done, just two or three empty spaces. 

“Chemist lab equipment, 10 words. That's easy, you can do that.” He points out,

“I've tried!! I literally can't figure it out. The only clue I have is that there's an e in it. A vowel.”

“Think about it.” He pushes.

“I asked for your help.” You complain but he still doesn't relent,

“I am helping!” He snaps back but quickly says, “Alright, I'll give you a clue, it starts with a C.”

Your head tilts as you go into deep thought and Spencer suppresses a chuckle when he sees recognition pass over your face,

“Centrifuge?” You ask tentatively,

“YES!” He claps his hand and you both laugh again and this goes on for a while. 

You ask him answers to empty crossword clues and he gives you a few more hints to get it right. There were some that even he couldn't figure out quickly, which were met with teasing from your end. He welcomed it, he was used to friendly teasing, he worked with Morgan for god's sake. A significant amount of time must have passed because you glanced at the clock again and this time, the same cranberry drink was in your hands and he couldn't help but ask,

“Why are you drinking so many juices?”

“We’re in a bar, genius. You're the weird one who's not drinking.” 

“I was drinking. You stopped me.” You did stop him. And you didn't once ask him what was going on with him. No concerned questions, no I can help you. 

“No, you were drowning in your misery.” And as if you could read his mind, “And I don't think you'd appreciate alcohol addiction too.” 

Too. 

Spencer couldn't understand why you weren't telling him that he should stop, that what he's doing is wrong, why you weren't warning him or shaming him but you speak up again,

“I assume you came here for a reprieve. I don't need to know the specifics to figure it out. Though you shouldn't use alcohol for your reprieves. Not a good alternative.” 

You shake your head in mock disappointment, and take another exaggerated sip. Spencer notes that you do that whenever you're worried you won't get a response, as a way to fill the silence. Profiler.

“What do you suggest? Juice?” He asks, gesturing to your glass and you laugh again, and he again thinks it's nice. But this time he doesn't say it out loud.

“So, what other things are you annoyingly good at?” You ask and he lists out too many things in his head, things people tell him he's the expert at. He doesn't agree with them all the time, but there is one thing he knows he's good at. 

“Chess” He answers.

You chuckle, “Figures.” You think this is probably the fifth time he's missed the cue of flirting but then you rethink how this is probably how he flirts, or just talks. Genuine earnestness. No twisted words to mask his intentions and a strange warmth fills your chest.

Maybe a little company for a while everyday won't hurt.

“So, same time tomorrow?” You ask as you gather your things above the table and put them in your bag and he's startled by the question to answer it immediately. But he registers it and says,

“Uhh, for what? Chess?” 

“Yes. You're gonna teach me. Because right now, I have to go.” You say hurriedly and pat his cheek before leaving and he thinks of all the things he had to say 

I don't know if I'll be here tomorrow.

Where would we find a chess set?

What if he's too out of it to make it here?

What should he wear? 

He doesn't even know what time it was.

What's your name?

How would I find you?

Gravity, Spencer thinks.

All those questions are unanswered as you become impossible to find in the nearly empty bar, but he thinks

I'll ask later. 

Same time, tomorrow.

[mauvecherie-writes]

be mine this christmas: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x black oc!xenia richards

trope: grumpy billionaire x personal assistant au

ru’s 💌: this will be my last update for a few days because I have some school work to do that I’ve been avoiding lol. The Lewis in this story is not to be conflated with IRL Lewis. He’s an asshole who knows he’s an asshole but you’ll love him the same. This story is fast paced because it takes place in about one day.

series masterlist

chapter: TWO

chapter warning: DUAL POV, mentions of toxic family dynamics: child neglect, asshole!lewis

chapter w.c: 3.86K

𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒

Lewis had an affinity for pissing people off. Since childhood, it had been something that he loved and it was probably something that he always had a fascination for. Seeing the way that he could affect someone else in such a way that dictates their mood was amusing to him. For most people, it was a funny occurrence that he would quickly forget about as soon as he left their presence . But there was one person that he made a point to aggravate with her furious expression being left in her wakes as she stormed away - his little assistant, Miss Xenia Richards.

Being able to garner a reaction out of her was worth his time in gold. It was like a hobby of his where he kept a running record going of how many times that he could successfully piss her off. Any moment that he was feeling bored, all it took was a swivel of his chair and an intercom call to her desk and it took nothing to invoke a reaction out of her - simply because it was too easy.

Why did Lewis love it so much? A very simple answer. He was an asshole.

It was how he was raised - or lack thereof.

A toxic cycle that he found all too time consuming to break with everything else that he had going on. It was just the way he was and he was not going to dig deep into his childhood trauma to figure out why pissing his PA off gave him a greater satisfaction than winning a new client. He liked the way he was just fine.

He wasn’t going to psychoanalyse why when she bashfully hid her face away from him, it made his dick hard. Or when she storms out of his office, he loved the way her ass jiggled and he pictured it bent over his lap wiggling as he slapped the smooth surface. He didn’t care as to why he enjoyed aggravating Xenia so much. But he was not going to stop any time soon.

When the company was established, Lewis had put it in the company policy that the executive staff would not fraternise with anyone directly in their line of authority and for the last three years he had been deeply regretting that rule. He was sure even the way that he fantasised about Xenia would be grounds for his termination from his position. So the next best thing that he had in his arsenal was riling her up.

His fascination also probably had to do with the fact that getting smart-mouthed and strong-willed women to submit to him was a kink of his. It was a dangerous affliction that he knew would cost him but it was worth it, million times over. Especially if it was Xenia at the end of his tunnel.

Lewis knew that she put up a good front but he could see right through Xenia’s faux exterior. She was nothing more than a brat who needed guidance. Specifically his guidance.

“Sir.” The sweet voice of his secretary, Tabitha, came over the phone’s intercom.

“Yes Tabitha?” He answered as it put a stop to his wayward thoughts.

“I have a list from Olivia on what else is needed for the Christmas party.” He could already feel an idea formulating before he could even utter thank you. The eagerness that swept through him at the thought of his assistant’s displeasure was concerning but he chose not to focus on that. Instead, his mind dwelled on how her face would contort between wanting to be defiant and wanting to submit to his bending. It was too good of a moment to not witness. As for now, he’ll just have to settle for the memories.

Lewis grabbed his cellphone from the desk and typed a quick message to Xenia with an updated list. He predicted that by now she probably would have been grabbing Mile’s lunch as the sushi restaurant was a few more miles further out from their offices. It was a last minute addition and when he thought about it, he preferred the roast blend from MonMouth instead.

After sending his message, he placed his phone back on his hand-carved red oak desk and turned back to face his computer screen. When the screen lit back up, he scrolled through some of the marketing reports and was particularly impressed with the continuous success of PLUS44WORLD. Nearly half a decade later into his retirement, his merch was still a major selling point of his brand. He then schemed through a few proposals from marketing agencies for sponsorships. He forwarded the ones that he thought would work best with the company to Miles and the legal team.

Even despite his obsession with enraging his personal assistant, Lewis could not deny that she did a fantastic job. A damn near perfect job actually. Everything that he threw her way, she was able to handle it with ease. Departments handed in their reports on time due to her delegation. Meetings and proposals, he went through half the time because Xenia often assessed them before forwarding them to him. This ultimately left him with very little to do towards the end of the day.

That was not great for his boredom. As he looked out of the window and watched the falling snow, he was forced to spend time with his thoughts. By the stream of thick fluff, he predicted that by the time Christmas rolled by, the streets of London. Would be covered in blankets of it. He hated the way that his mind shifted to his parents. They hated the cold, snow in particular and spent most of their time somewhere in the tropics.

At the very first sight of snowfall, they ran. As soon as they were able to leave Lewis alone with his nannies, they did. He was raised by his nannies, whichever one they had at the time. Up until he began to take an interest in motorsports, then his parents decided that they wanted to do their job. They had done just enough for it not to cause a media firestorm as his success grew expeditiously. The perfect family, they were dubbed.

It was only ever for the public. Behind closed doors, Lewis was often left alone - back into the arms of his nannies. Alone again, especially at Christmas. He never let it bother him, in essence, he was surrounded by too many people to actually ever be alone. But in his solitude, he had observed a thing or two about humans. Their mannerisms, their habits, their tells - all to come to the conclusion that people were ruled by their emotions. Whether they wanted to or not.

Through his adolescence, he pushed his nannies past their limits - most of them quitting before their contract was over. It was then that he decided that he was not a fan of compliant women. They were not stimulating enough for him. Lewis learnt a lot of things in his isolation as an only child. How to be in charge of his own happiness. He was indifferent to his parents due to their mistreatment and he probably needed professional help to unpack that. Right now, that was not a priority.

Instead, he chose to find solace in causing Xenia discomfort. He enjoyed seeing the life in her eyes when she got mad. He always wondered if there would be that same fire when she reached her climax. Or would she crumble beneath him, spent and exhausted. One assumption he was almost certain of was that she was undoubtedly a screamer. That he was sure.

As if his thoughts had summoned her presence, he turned around at the tumbling of limbs, bags and lunch barraging through his office door.

The better part of him wanted to stand up and offer some help. The arsehole part of him leaned back into his chair, silently watching as Xenia cursed as she struggled to make it through. After a painful moment, she was able to gather herself as she dumped the bags onto the floor and then placed his lunch and coffee onto his desk without a single spill.

“Such a gentleman for helping me with the door, sir.” She spat out the last word with so much venom. Xenia had probably done it to annoy him as if he wasn’t already in the mindset that he was, it would have. All it did now was that it shot shocks through to his dick. Too many times had he fantasised about her using his official title as she thanked him for her pleasure. He chewed on the inside of his cheek to control his smirk from breaking out as he watched her shuffle in one place as she tried to regulate her emotions. Her hand twitched by her sides as she seemed to be counting down.

She was so responsive, Lewis thought to himself. And it only drove his desire to toy with her more. Xenia may not respond with words but in letting her body respond for her, it fuelled the flames in the pit of her stomach.

Since Lewis had hired her, he knew that she would be more than he bargained for and he had begun to wonder if - even by just the smallest fraction, that she also wanted to please him. It would make sense if she did. Xenia was responsive to him in other ways that she may not have been aware of, eager for his touch and eager for his praise.

Yet she would not submit, she would not give up her control to him. But he would take it, own it, bend it to his will and there would be no going back.

However, as tempting as it would be, it was a pleasure that he would not indulge in just yet. The company rules were there for a reason and his desire would remain in his thoughts and burn his soul as they were starved of fruition.

Lewis would just have to settle for the tremble of her full, glossed lips, the rising of her chest instead of the jiggle of her ass. He would observe the fierceness that swirled in her eyes every time that she looked at him rather than the feeling of her cunt clamping down on his dick. He would expand her energy to run around the city with a list in hand for as long as it fuelled the fantasy of her running out of breath as he drove into her, marred the walls of his warped mind.

That would do. For now.

𝐗𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀

There were many kinds of demons in accordance with the religions and mythologies of the world and as this particular demonic spawn sighed as he leaned forward, Xenia wondered what she had done in her past life to deserve this.

“Let’s hope that I don’t need to get my shirts re-starched due to your negligence.”

Oh, this dickhead.

For the second time in less than two minutes, Xenia had to use the countdown method to control her rising temper. And for the fourth time that week, she thought about handing in her resignation, cashing out her savings and moving to New York. It was wishful thinking. A sigh left her as she patted her hair back into place.

“Maybe if you had helped me then that wouldn’t be a worry would it?”

“And why would I do that? It’s what I hired you for.”

Now, she knew that being of a certain class made people lose touch with reality but to hear such words come out of the cretin had her mind racing with insults that could curse an entire bloodline. All of them colourful and all of them violent enough to get her a secured spot in HM Bronzefield.

So she stood there in silence as she swallowed down her disgust at the complete lack of chivalry. They stayed there, Xenia attempting not to burst with anger and Lewis daring her to defy him.

You just need this job a little bit longer, Xenia.

Pushing her pride aside, she bent down, picked up his dry cleaning and walked across the main office space to the private en suite. She hung them behind the door and took a moment to inhale and exhale, again and again until she felt her hert beating steadily again.

Entering back into the office, she did not offer Lewis a second glance as she picked up the other bags up from the floor. “Now that you have your lunch, I will take these bags to the conference hall.” She turned to walk away, her body burning with anticipation to leave his scrutinising gaze. Then he cleared his throat and she had to stop herself from screaming in frustration.

“Is there anything else that you need from me, sir?”

“I do.” For all of the times for Xenia to be affected by his voice, it had to be when she wanted to bash the side of his head with the bags in her hands. Not only that, she hated the visceral reaction his voice seemed to have on her body. Her core tightened as a shiver rushed down her spine.

Xenia forced herself to stay still, facing the door as he stood directly behind her. She did not want to look into his eyes as she was avoiding whatever she was feeling.

“As soon as you drop those bags in the conference rooms, please come back here. I know your propensity to become distracted.”

He was right and it gutted her that he had picked up on the restlessness of her mind.

“Yes, sir.” Xenia did not stop once she had thrown the door open and rushed across the floor, avoiding the eyes of the other assistance.

“Are you alright?” Her mind couldn’t register that it was the voice of Tabitha. She incessantly pressed on the elevator button, in an effort to increase the distance between her and Lewis. Her eyes cut to his office and she saw him leaning against his desk so he took sips of his coffee as he scrolled through his phone. As if he could feel the intensity of her glare, his eyes flickered up and met hers. Holding her stare, Lewis put his phone down and pressed a button on his desk and the glass walls began to tint darker and darker until they were pitch black. Before he was enclosed in complete privacy, Lewis shot her a wink.

And it almost dissolved her resolve.

“Xenia?” The sound of her name jolted her back to reality. She looked to her right and saw the older woman, Tabitha standing there. In her mid fifties with a full head of grey dreadlocks secured on top of head in a bun with spunky red glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. “I asked if you were alright dear.” The Jamaican twang to her voice gave her a sense of comfort that made Xenia relax her tense shoulders.

“I’m okay Tabitha, thank you for asking. I’m just trying to get through the day in one piece.”

“Knock on wood as soon as you find some. That boy is very unpredictable.” Tabitha winked at her as the elevator doors closed. The ride down to the ground floor was swift. When she entered the main conference hall where the party would be hosted, it wasn’t a shock to her at the utter chaos that was taking place. Ladders tall and short propped against the walls as frivolous leftovers of decor loitered on the floor. Workers ran around as they tried to finish the last of the set up.

As she stood at the door, Xenia could see the beginnings of her vision coming together after weeks spent designing. This was not just a party for the company staff, no. All of the members currently sitting on the board attended. Major clients that the company wanted to keep in favour amongst social media content creators on the PR list. Ala in all to say that a lot of fucking people were going to be in attendance and Xenia had felt the pressure, to make it perfect as she did every year since her employment.

She managed not to get her feet tangled in discarded tinsel as she entered the room further.

“Drop them near the main stage, Nia.” Olivia, the event coordinator and good friend pointed in the direction that she wanted the bags to be. Her dark, raven locks were pulled into a high ponytail, her beautiful umber skin glowing under the low lights. Similar to little miss bitch, Lola, Olivia had the same gymnast body type. However, Olivia was nowhere close to the bitch that Lola was, she was an angel.

Once the bags were dropped, Xenia stepped back to admire the work that was being put in. The theme this year was Winter Wonderland with a specific colour scheme to stick to considering what the traditions of what a winter wonderland entails. But the design was coming along very well and Xenia was very proud of herself.

Crystal and faux glass decorations adorned the ceilings alongside uniform rows of white christmas lights. The centerpiece was a ten foot Christmas tree sat on the stage that was still in the process of being decorated but she knew that when it was done, it would be the showstopper.

“You think you can help us tackle that monster?” Olivia asked as she opened the bags that Xenia had delivered.

“Not a problem darling. I just need to go and see what Hamilton wants first and then I’ll be back down.” Olivia smirked at the mention of their boss but when she met Xenia’s death glare did she swallow it back. Olivia had a sick fascination with Xenia’s relationship with Lewis. From the beginning, she claimed that the sexual tension was intertwined in the bonds of their hatred for each other. Olivia had the ridiculous notion that Lewis seemed to enjoy infuriating Xenia because she was terrible at hiding her emotions. Whilst that may be true, that he loved goading a reaction out of her, Xenia loved doing the same. Even if it was the smallest loss of composure, it gave her a sliver of triumph.

“When i come back, the very mention of his name, I will fuck off out of here.” Xenia threatened, which caused Olivia to roll her eyes. Her track back up to the executives floor was one she dragged her feet for. She was not in a rush to get back to Lewis’s office. When she approached her desk to grab her iPad, she could feel his eyes peering at her through the privacy window. She had always found it creepy that he could watch the floor but no-one could look into his office when the tint was at full transmission. Xenia didn’t bother with knocking, he knew that it was her anyway.

The air grew thicker as he was unfazed by her show of an entrance. He was ignoring her as he typed away on his computer. She lowered herself onto a chair in front of his desk in a huff.

Can this man hurry up? I have shit to do. Xenia said to herself internally.

“Can you stop being dramatic, Richards? There’s no need for all of that.” His words were slow and mastered as he finally typed in the last of whatever that he was doing and turned his gaze onto her. His deep brown eyes were dark, alluring and made all of the muscles in her body tighten.

She could be honest, Xenia talked a big game and she absolutely had a massive attitude but there was not a lot of bark in her bite. Especially now as they were alone, Xenia’s body knew what her mind refused.

“Can I be honest with you Miss Richards?” The smoothness of his voice was enticing. Like a matured whiskey being poured over ice, she knew not to reach for a taste.

And yet, she still took the bait. “When have you never been honest with me?”

Lewis smirked. “I like this little game that we have going on between us.”

”Game?” Xenia frowned in confusion. Lewis nodded his head as he stood up from his chair and circled the desk until he was closer to her. She froze in her sit but managed to lean back into it so as to create some physical distance. His dark eyes remained on her as he rolled his sleeves, exposing his intrinsically tattooed skin for her viewing pleasure. Xenia forced her eyes back to his face and to maintain that eye contact as her traitorous core tightened at the simple act.

“Don’t play coy. I won’t say what it is that we play as it doesn’t need to be stated.” He paused as he fixed the folds of his shirt. “But I like it.”

Her worst enemy at that very moment was her body. Her nipples tightened as her core pulsated. Once in a while, the thought of hate fucking her boss crossed her mind, more often than it should. However, today was simply not the time nor place to let her mind wander into places that had been locked behind red doors.

Xenia crossed her legs and cleared her throat. “Of course you’d think torturing me is a game that we both like to play. I mean, I knew that you were a narcissist but this sounds concerning. Do you need me to contact someone?” The faux concern in her voice caused Lewis to lean backwards. He folded his arms across his chest and peered down at her. That fucking stupid smirk back on his face. The strands hanging on either side of his face with the overhead lights casting shadows that danced across his skin.

She should have been intimidated but she wasn’t. She was deeply aroused and then it dawned onto her how they were positioned.

Lewis above her and her below, almost eyes level with his crotch.

A show of submission. One that she would not give into. Xenia quickly shuffled back up to her feet and that caused Lewis to widen his smile before he moved back to his seat.

“What did you actually need me here for, Mr Hamilton?”

“I just wanted you to make sure that you don’t forget about the list I have emailed you.” Lewis said so casually as if he had not just accosted her. The scoff that left her could not be held back as she grabbed her iPad from his desk and charged towards the door.

What a waste of my fucking time.

“Oh and one last thing, Miss Richards.”

Don’t roll your eyes girl.

“Yes, sir?”

“Make sure to remember the number six for me.”

Is this man alright?

Xenia exhaled through her gritted teeth. “Yes, sir.” She had almost made it out of her door when she heard the faintest whisper. Whether he had actually said it or not, a shiver rolled down her spine and lit her nerves aflame.

Two simple words,

Good girl.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @cocobutterqwueen @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @laneywrld @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @hotfudgeslug @iamryanl @pickingupmymercedes @eleetalks @ambs-06 @annisassintchaska @boujiestpoet @nayaesworld @nat-lh-44 @mochachocolatteyaya @melaninpov @kindan3rdy951 @elyseesarchive @sl33p-deprived-princess @soiguessimtheshit @acidlv @trinitoldyouso @gwenda-fav @f1-football-fiend

[olenoidedserratuspilled]

I am once again being nosey and butting in on other people's conversations. I'd advise against clicking on read more.

Trans people have been eating each other alive for a long time, and it's gonna keep happening, unfortunately.

Yes they have, all the more reason not to look for any united front or community.

lots of transmascs (and other trans folks) suck just as bad as the transfems letting you down.

Again, lots oall the more reason not to look for any united front or community.

If you want solidarity, you have to start by offering yours.

And if your solidarity isn't accepted? What then?

One person can't make a difference, we both know this, so in order to clean the metaphorical river you'd need to join with the people already working to clean it. If they don't want you to join, what then?

we cannot under any circumstances afford to entertain separationist ideas or feelings.

The separationist ideas will keep growing whether you entertain them or not. People desire an outgroup to rally against, and once they're rallied against an outgroup they'll look for more and more people to lump into that outgroup. Once you've been lumped in, there's no way out. Can't reverse entropy.

You need to remember that even the ones who are wrong about you are still more right about themselves than you could ever be

And you're still more right about yourself than you could ever be, but they don't care about that. They believe they're more right about you than you are, and many will get aggressive if challenged on this. Why take that risk just on the off chance you might enact some small change?

If you start tuning them all out because of what they're getting wrong about you, you will lose a massive part of the story, and your picture will always be incomplete.

The people tuning you out seem to be doing just fine, so having an incomplete picture can't be so horrible.

We can't make things better for trans people if our picture of transphobia and trans experiences is incomplete.

That's too bad, because the people with incomplete pictures seem pretty confident that they can. There are few of them now, but there'll be more of them soon, and there'll be less people with complete pictures or willing to gain complete pictures soon. Eventually our only options will be an incomplete picture or no picture at all.

By and large, one single Anon giving up on looking to transfems for allyship doesn't change anything. It would if many people did the same, but OP does provide a very good argument against doing that, so I don't believe they will.

Even if they did, every conflict has its surrenders. Especially ones that seems to grow ever more hopeless.

This post isn't aimed at Anon because Anon won't see it. It's aimed at an entirely hypothetical person. It's a post for nobody. On the off chance Anon does see it though:

This is what the people demanding your solidarity think of you. You're still free to give it to them, it is your solidarity, but do so knowing what you're getting yourself into.

I'm starting to feel like.. i should stop looking to transfems for allyship. the way so many of them talk about and treat transmascs... i'm probably better off on my own than trying to form any kind of united front or community or whatever with them. the number of times i've seen transfems putting transmascs down lately is just.. it's ridiculous..

Trans people have been eating each other alive for a long time, and it's gonna keep happening, unfortunately. On the bright side, not everyone's like that! And lots of transmascs (and other trans folks) suck just as bad as the transfems letting you down.

The thing about it is that if you want a better trans community, you have to help make it. If you want solidarity, you have to start by offering yours. If you want the river to be clean, you need to go pick the litter out of it. I know it's hard and unpleasant a lot of the time, and it's scary because you might get hurt, but you still have to try. Being scared or tired or even hurt doesn't get you out of trying.

There are a lot of people already trying together, and a lot of them are transfem. Seek them out in every way you can. (I often reblog from them, if you need a place to start, and I think I've put some lists under my #recs tag over the years)

And don't let the seperationism get you. I'm so serious right now, we cannot under any circumstances afford to entertain seperationist ideas or feelings. Start reckoning with it if you haven't yet, and don't let yourself stop reckoning with it.

You need to remember that even the ones who are wrong about you are still more right about themselves than you could ever be, and you need to listen to what they're saying about themselves anyway. If you start tuning them all out because of what they're getting wrong about you, you will lose a massive part of the story, and your picture will always be incomplete. We can't make things better for trans people if our picture of transphobia and trans experiences is incomplete.

I'm sorry you've been hurt. You deserve better. I hope you're able to connect with folks who make it easier soon.

[captainpetebradshaw]

so i watched 2x22 "the wire" for the first time today and it was a near religious experience so you're getting my thoughts on it under the cut

I love how comfortable they've gotten with each other; talking books? disagreeing about books? garak asking if julian can't just use his status as a doctor to get them to skip the line?

"perfect health, huh??" julian is so offended by garak lying to him about his condition lol

"i'm a doctor, not a botanist" is this some kind of star trek tradition?

"why can't he just tell me what's going on?" "it sounds like you're taking this personally" "i suppose I am... It's just that garak and I have been having lunch together once a week for more than a year now" once a week?! for more than a year?!

and then julian angrily stabbing dax's plant in frustration. let it out.

unsure if quark called julian to come get the absolutely hammered garak from his bar because he's the doctor or because julian is literally the only social contact quark could think of for garak???

"i prefer to drink somewhere quiet" "quiet? excellent idea... we'll go to my quarters" "whatever you want. but first i must make a stop at the infirmary" guess garak wasn't drunk enough for that little trick

but he was drunk enough to not notice the bottle hand-off to quark

"make it stop, make it stop..." aww no, poor baby!

julian using his doctor credentials to basically break into garak's. guess they ended up in his quarters after all

"if i was ever tortured, [the implant] was designed to stimulate the pleasure centers of my brain to trigger the production of vast amounts of natural endorphins" i gotta say, that has some freaky fucked up potential for fanfics and i can't wait to see how often it has been appropriated in the last 30 years

"living on this station is torture for me, doctor. the temperature is always too cold. the lights are always too bright. every bajoran on the station looks at me with loathing and contempt" ah yes, the autism experience

"why don't you just shut the damn thing off?" julian, do they teach nothing about addiction in med school?

i had to rewind this scene a couple times because i was chanting "kiss! kiss! kiss!" in my living room and didn't listen to a word they said. the 4:3 aspect ratio is also doing its thing

"has it ever occured to you that i might be getting exactly what i deserve?" "no one deserves this" julian going from all that taunting and appealing to garak's pride to this???? unexpected softness incoming

garak telling this story about how he is responsible for so many people dying and julian just saying right now he's just concerned for his health and won't let him die??? "you need to turn that implant off and whatever withdrawal symptoms or side effects you may experience, i promise i'll help you through them" like this is insane. i assumed people shipped them for a reason (and lower decks made them "canon" for a reason) but i was LIVING watching this.

it also has to be said that andrew robinson is acting the ever living shit out of these scenes - fantastic

even odo can't get past protector mode chief medical officer doctor bashir

staying by his bedside? for hours???

shoulder touch denied!!!

it's wild, garak must be suffering so much in that moment but he's still spinning up some new potential backstory. maybe this time it's not a lie but we just don't know.

"and so they exiled you" "that's right! and left me to live out my days with nothing to look forward to but having lunch with you." "i'm sorry you feel that way. i thought you enjoyed my company." "oh i did! and that's the worst part. i can't belive that i actually enjoyed eating mediocre food and staring into your smug sanctimonious face. i hate this place and i hate you." "ok, garak." addicts do get just absolutely hateful so this sounds pretty spot on to me.

on a side note, i don't think i could have done lunch every week with julian. he is smug and he has a big ego and i relate to the other senior officers who were sometimes a little condescending in their reactions when he was boasting about something or other. but that's ok, i don't have to. garak enjoyed it, it seems.

garak: you still have to learn the truth julian: heart eyes motherfucker

"why are you telling me this, garak?" "so that you can forgive me. why else? i need to know that someone forgives me"

"i forgive you. for whatever it is you did" "thank you, doctor. that's most kind"

so julian goes and finds the guy who's kind of responsible for garak having that implant in the first place. it's also i think the first time julian acknowledges they are friends?

"how sick is garak?" "he's dying" "and you're trying to save him?" "that's right" "strange... i thought you were his friend?" "i suppose i am" "then you should let him die. after all, for garak, a life in exile is no life at all"

"thank you" "don't thank me. i'm not doing garak any favors. he doesn't deserve a quick death. on the contrary. i want him to live a long, miserable life. i want him to grow old on that station surrounded by people who hate him, knowing that he'll never come home again. "what a lovely sentiment" "and it's from the heart, i assure you" <- that made me laugh

we learn garak's first name!

he's well again! back to the regularly scheduled lunch date!

and he's got a new book recommendation for julian, how nice

"what i want to know out of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren't" "my dear doctor, they were all true" "even the lies?"

"especially the lies"

smiley boys!

this ended up being more of a collection of my favorite quotes from the episode but that's fine with me. it's my post.

[forthevillains]

Merry Xmas!!!! xxx as a late Xmas present to us Wesker simps could we pretty please cuz some more obssessive /yandere type Wesker pleasssseee!!! Love your work xx

MERRY LATE XMAS!<3 and thank you so much I really appreciate it!

I’ve been ill so I’m late with this and I hope it’s not as bad (wrote it w a fever lol). This is a short scenario that spawned in my head and wouldn’t leave so I hope you enjoy<3 btw no spice in this one as it wasn’t specified if you want it there or not

You've worked for Umbrella for quite a while, spending perhaps too much time in the laboratory, wondering about the new possibilities of what you were creating in there. You've always been very keen on developing new things, researching whatever you lacked knowledge of. You were smart, oh definitely, such a young thing with such a curious brain. Even if you didn't know it, it brought you very much advantages among your colleagues. Especially since a special someone took a liking to you.

Wesker's been around you ever since you got promoted, moved forward to do things of higher importance, to spend time with more privileged people who have fallen so passionately deep with their job you could barely keep up a normal conversation. Not him though, never him. He's always been an observant man, thus he noticed even the slightest of discomfort in your expressions. He always knew exactly how you felt, what you were thinking and sometimes it has made you feel uneasy at how easily he could read you. It all began so innocently you would’ve thought you found your soulmate rather than a future stalker, rather a madman desiring nothing more than to own, possess.

"In need of any help, dearheart?" he'd ask whenever he noticed you carrying way too many envelopes that they almost slipped past your tensed forearms. Little did you know that they were mostly empty, that it was him who purposely put so many in there so that he could seem like a gentleman, trying to help you out. And it sure worked on you every damn time.

____________________________________

It was late, well past midnight. You were silently cursing yourself for making such a stupid decision to work during holidays. Everyone is with their family at the moment, having a great time, laughing together, telling each other stories from their wonderful lives and you? You were locked up in a lab, taking notes about the newest virus that Umbrella worked on.

The sterile silence of the underground laboratory enveloped the air, save for the soft hum of machinery in the background. You were just about to be done with it for today, your mind was going places, other places than where it should be at the moment and you could barely think straight when your mind was flooded with the images of your warm bed. You thought you could get distracted enough that maybe you wouldn't feel so terrible about having no family or friends to spend time with during Christmas, maybe feel a little more important, feel like you're being productive in a way... But it didn't work.

Suddenly, you could've sworn you heard footsteps. You turned to look down the corridor, but no one was there. Only the faint light from the lab panels illuminated the otherwise dark hallways.

You sighed, wondering just why did you think it was such a great idea to stay here during the night. What had your mind going places that were too far to get back from though, was the fact that Wesker himself decided to stay as well. You didn't talk to each other of course, you somehow ought to keep it professional and not intertwine with what he had to do... But the thought of being alone in here with him, even if he was in another room... The thought sent a strange mixture of frustration and... something else fluttering in your chest.

The quiet click of boots against tile echoed down the hall once more, and you turned just in time to see him approach. His tall frame, cold expression, and piercing sunglasses made him almost ethereal in the dim lighting, like a god descending from his private throne. Weren’t you a realist you would’ve definitely believed that he was indeed one.

"You're still here," he observed in his usual clipped tone. There was no question in his voice. It was simply a statement, one that you knew was far from casual curiosity.

"Where else would I be?" you questioned, immediately regretting that maybe that was a little too well played for him. That the right words would be all for you to vent to him, just like you’ve already done a few times. It made you anxious, eyes flicking away, trying not to meet his gaze. He could definitely notice, he surely knew…

You hated how he always knew when something was off. Of course he'd know that you were just avoiding how pathetic and lonely you felt outside these walls. Without anyone to talk to, anyone to ask for  advice... You didn't have him. That's what he kept telling himself. That you're just so miserable on your own that you willingly overwork yourself, only to be around him. And he wouldn't have it any other way. You belong with him, you can’t be happy on your own.

A slight smirk curled on his lips. "Well there could be loads of answers to that question, dearheart. What's more important is... Where do you wish to be?" It made you think for a second and you nearly blurted out that you'd only wish to be with him, working on whatever he was working on, feeling his presence, being close to him, simply breathing the same air while being able to steal small glances. But you didn't. You couldn't say it out loud.

His approach was slow, calculated. He never rushed, never had to. He was certain of everything—of you, of your thoughts, of your desires. The closer he got, the more you felt your heart begin to race, against all rational thought. What was he even doing? Has he lost his mind?

You had no idea of any of his desires, not how much he wished for an opportunity like this, to get you all alone, all to himself, with nowhere else to run to. It was like a dream come true and he felt exactly like a kid finally getting his favorite candy. He was willing to take a bite, oh definitely and not just one, but he has yet to savor such moment.

Wesker reached you, and without a word, his hand came up to rest against the side of your face, cold but firm. His thumb stroked your cheek, and you flinched, not from discomfort, but from the way his touch felt as though it had always been meant for you—like it had been planned. Every part of you screamed to step back, to pull away, to find a way to escape, but his gaze held you in place, like a trap you couldn't escape.

"You're trembling," he remarked, his voice low, darkly amused. "Why? Are you afraid of me?" His eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and something darker—something that felt like possession.

"I'm not afraid," you whispered, voice small and fragile. Even you knew the lie didn't hold weight. You were afraid, but there was something else too. Something that went far deeper. Mixture of that something with fear was weirdly addictive to you and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to run or play along whatever game he’s come up with this time.

He tilted your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. The intense heat in his eyes sent a shock through your body. He'd always been this way, relentless in his desire to break you down, piece by piece, until you were nothing but a part of him. You were never truly free. Not when he was around.

"Don't lie to me," he purred, the words a dangerous promise. "I can hear your heart racing. Your body betrays you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand slid down your neck, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin there. It was a delicate touch, one that made your stomach tighten in a way you couldn't deny. A part of you hated the way your body reacted to him, how your pulse quickened when he was near, but you couldn't stop it.

"You like me, don't you?" Wesker's voice dropped even lower, almost a growl now. There it was, reading you like a book, saying words that even you didn’t know were true before he said them out loud. His fingers brushed along the collar of your shirt, sending a shiver down your spine. His control over you was suffocating, but the worst part was... you didn't know if you wanted to break free.

"I... I don't like you. I mean I do - not like that - I mean-" You fell silent. There was nothing more you could do, you know that he knew now, you only assured him by your nervousness.

Wesker's smile widened, but it wasn't kind. It was something colder, something darker. "We both know that isn't true. Don't play these games with me, darling. No need to be shy now." His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "I like you too, you know?"

Your eyes widened. Normally you would’ve loved to hear those words, but the tone of his voice… You couldn’t quite figure out his intentions and it made shivers run down your spine. His presence alone was overwhelming at this very moment. His fingers threaded through your hair, tugging your head back slightly to expose your neck. The intimacy was suffocating, and yet you couldn't look away, couldn't push him off. His dominance was intoxicating, all-consuming. "Don’t be scared now, my dear. Believe that I take good care of what’s mine,” he manages a disappointed frown. As if you fearing him was hurting him in a way when in reality - he liked it. He wouldn’t necessarily hurt you, but he liked to see you trembling underneath his touch, seeing the battle you were having with yourself over what you yourself truly want.

"I'm going to make you feel so good you won't be able to go on without me, my dear, I can promise you that." His hand came up to caress your cheek, his fingers gentle on your skin as he looked into your eyes through his dark shades. "You’ll learn that soon enough, very soon.” And after he let out those words, you knew that there was no way back from this…

[rvlse]

Greetings and happy new year! 🎉

Could I request an one-shot with TFOne Sentinel Prime, please? Write any scenario you want. I'm so thirsty to read about him 🥲

(It's okay if you don't want to take this request)

HII! Happy new year, I'd be more than happy to take this request <3 I hope you enjoy it!

Tbh I hope nobody already did this yet lol I've had this idea in my head for a few weeks..

ALSO for everyone who sent me asks, I'm working on them all!

(SENTINEL TFO X GN! READER)

WARNINGS: not too bad, does get a little suggestive tho 😉

Oh, you were going to kill Orion. What had he been thinking? Joining the Iacon 5000? What was wrong with him?

You, Orion, and D-16 had absolutely embarrassed yourselves out in the race. There was a reason miners weren’t allowed to participate, and of course Orion needed to find out why. 

“I just wanna know what your thought process was. I mean, seriously?” You scolded the red and blue bot, who was finding the floor extremely interesting. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, Dee, but I just wanted to-” 

“You always want to do everything! You can’t ever just stay in your place!” You interrupted him. You were absolutely fuming. Shocker that no one could see the smoke coming out of your audials right now.

Orion didn’t reply, so you just crossed your arms and looked the other way. Dee hadn’t said anything, either.

Just as you were about to open your intake to spit a bunch of curses at Pax (again), four thin black cybertronian legs appeared in the doorway of the medbay, followed by heavy footsteps.

It was pretty obvious who was about to appear. Arachnid, the four legged cybertronian bodyguard, was the only hint you needed. Sentinel Prime. Wonderful. You could only hope he wouldn’t demote you for the stunt the three of you- Orion had pulled… or worse.

Arachnid’s many optics deep scanned you and your friends’ frames, giving all three of you a suspicious glare up and down.

“All clear,” she finally spoke, backing up as the one and only Sentinel Prime stomped into the room to take her place. You wouldn’t lie, he was quite the sight. Blue and gold was a gorgeous color combination, and he wore it perfectly. But… he was pissed. 

His optic ridges were furrowed together, his lips pulled taught, and the glare he held in his optics would offline bots if it could.

“D-16, Orion Pax,” he started, bringing his servos to his shiny hips as he gave your friends a firm once over.

“Y/N…” his dominating gaze narrowed on you. You suddenly felt a bit tense, straightening your backstrut and holding your helm up a bit more. 

Sentinel’s curious optics scanned your frame from your helm to your pedes, and then slowly… too slowly, back up to your optics. Your digits fidgeted with themselves as you tried to make sense of the situation. 

“What you three did today was one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen,” he started off, servos still on his hips.

Orion Pax got up off the medical berth and opened his intake, “sir, this was all my idea and we’re so sorry-” 

“I loved it!” Sentinel interrupted, his servos going up into the air. The three of you gave him a blank, confused stare. 

“You did?” Orion questioned, not believing the Prime’s words.

“How could anyone not love it? You gave my best racers a real run for their money,” Sentinel continued, getting down on one knee to be optic level with the three of you. 

You weren’t too certain of the mech in front of you. He seemed… too animated. Too excited. Too friendly. 

“So… we’re not getting demoted?” Dee spoke up, his voice soft and hopeful.

“Demoted?” the Prime repeated, shocked at his suggestion. Then, Sentinel let out a thick, hearty laugh, the type of laugh that just screamed arrogance.

Uncomfortably, Dee and Orion tried to laugh along, unsure of what the joke was. You just sat there on the medical berth with your arms crossed. You weren’t buying whatever show Sentinel was putting on.

After another few awkward moments of chatter, Arachnid finally let the Prime know his time was up and that he had places to be.

“I’m sorry, my friends, we’re preparing our next trip to the surface,” Sentinel told the three of you, his apologizing gaze travelling over your frames. But then, for the second time today, the Prime’s optics fell on you, his optics half lidded and dark.

“But in the meantime, I’ve got a treat for you,” he continued, letting his vision trail across your body.

“Arachnid, have someone escort these heroes-” he turned to his assistant and gestured to your friends, Orion and Dee, “-to my personal service facilities. The best care in Iacon,” the Prime congratulated the two mechs.

And then he turned his helm to you, and raised his servo. Confused, you opened your intake to ask questions, but Sentinel’s digits touched the bottom of your jaw, and closed your intake for you.

“As for them,” the blue mech addressed you, moving his thumb up so it was just barely grazing your lips, pushing your helm up as if he was inspecting you.

“Take them to my quarters. I want a word with them,” he finished, letting go of your face and standing up to his full height. It was worth mentioning that he absolutely towered over all three of you.

Arachnid didn’t ask questions, just nodded and called someone up on her comm link as Sentinel Prime gave you one last look before he turned and left the medbay. 

What the frag just happened? 

Your helm turned, bewildered, to your friends.

“What was that? Why was he so touchy-feely? Why am I going somewhere else?” you panicked, your servos in the air as you interrogated the two miner bots, faceplates burning hot.

Dee raised his own servos to try and calm you down. 

“Woah, woah, I’m sure it’s fine! He’s a Prime, he wouldn’t hurt anybody. You’re fine,” Dee tried to comfort you, smiling. Orion nodded enthusiastically behind him.

“Yeah, Y/N, you’ll be okay. I’m sure whatever he has planned, it’s go-” Pax tried to say.

“URGH… MINERS!” Darkwing bellowed from the hallway, clearly infuriated. 

“Well. That’s unfortunate,” you stated upon seeing him, raising an optic ridge. 

And just like that, Orion and D-16 were taken away, and you didn’t think they were getting the ‘best care in Iacon’ anymore.

Another pair of footsteps sounded in the hallway, this time lighter and more friendly seeming. Prepared for whatever it was that was about to appear, you sat stoically on the med berth.

Closer, and closer… 

“Hi!” the mystery figure spoke, popping out from behind the wall. 

“I was instructed to bring you to Sentinel’s quarters… so c’mon!” the pink and white bot exclaimed, grabbing your arm and dragging you off the berth. 

“Uhm.. okay,” you complied, not wanting to get in any more trouble than you might already be in. 

About five minutes later, you stood outside of two humongous gold doors. The cheery bot that had brought you here knocked three times on them, and then retreated behind you, putting their servos on your shoulders. 

You swallowed nervously when you heard the same heavy footsteps as you did earlier, and after another second, those golden gates flung open, revealing Sentinel’s daunting frame. 

The pink and white bot shoved you rather harshly forward, gave you a pat on your back, and then turned and left. Great. So it was just you and the Prime. 

“Please, come in…” Sentinel started, a cunning, attractive smile on his features. You gave him an untrusting glare, and hesitantly, warily, stepped inside his abode. 

“What do you want?” you questioned him the second you entered his quarters, turning around to face him. Bad idea, that height difference really was extreme. 

“Oho, straight to the point, are you?” he chuckled, putting his servos behind his back as he took a couple steps closer to you. His optics were doing that stupid attractive stare again. Frag. It would be bad if you were actually getting horny right now. Which you were. Frag again. 

You didn’t answer him, just clenched your servos into fists and glared defiantly up at him. 

“Okay, then. I can play that way, too…” he murmured.

“I saw you out there. In the race. You’re… frag, you’re gorgeous,” he scoffed, laughed, as if it were obvious why he had called you here.

Your optics narrowed, your glare only getting harsher. 

“So, I decided I just had to have you, princess,” he confessed, bending his upper half down so that he could see you optic to optic. Which, his were still half lidded and his gaze was extremely intense. 

At his pet name, you reeled back, the density of your situation finally weighing on you. Ohhh slag. The Sentinel Prime wanted you. YOU. 

You swallowed again, your optics going wide. 

“Pshh- you’re kidding, right?” you fake laughed, heat rising to your face.

The Prime’s cursingly hot smile only widened, and that only made you hornier.

His torturously tall frame took one, two, three steps closer to you, close enough so that his face was inches from yours. 

“Of course not. Why would I go through the trouble of calling you up here?” he chuckled again, closing his optics for a second.

“Listen… I’m giving you two options,” Sentinel’s smile suddenly fell, and his optics narrowed to glare down at you.

“Since you like it straight forward, I’ll keep it short,” his tone was low. Honestly, it scared you. Whatever he was about to say, it wasn’t about to be good.

“Either I get to bend you over that desk right there-” he gestured to what you could only assume was his work desk, as papers and data pads were strewn everywhere on its surface, “-and frag you until you start to see stars…” he spoke carefully, tentatively, as if he was spelling something out for you.

“Or, you become my sparkmate, and I get to screw you anyway,” he finished sourly, searching your expression.

Well, wasn’t this a turn of events. Clearly, he wasn’t giving you much of a choice right now. No matter what you did, he would get what he wanted. You couldn’t run, there were way too many guards who would offline you without a second thought. And you didn’t even want to think about fighting. 

Now, if you really thought about it, he wasn’t giving you bad options. You thought about the first one. You wouldn’t mind getting fragged senseless by him, in all truths. The question, though, was what he would do with you after he was finished with you. 

You didn’t want to know.

Being his sparkmate would be quite the honor. For slag’s sake, he was a Prime, and you just a miner bot. He must really like you… 

“I’ll be your sparkmate,” you told him slowly, carefully, your tone low, matching his. 

Sentinel’s lips curled up into another one of his cunning, unnecessarily attractive smiles. 

“Good girl.”

SOOOOO... I realized this was getting a little long for a one shot.

Anybody up for a part two where they get freaky?

Have an amazing day/night!

[yanderes-galore]

Naruto Uzumaki romantic Headcanons if you please~😊

I'll try! I haven't finished Naruto but I think I have a good grasp on his character. Enough to give him general HCs at least.

Yandere! Naruto Uzumaki Concept

(General Concept - Shippuden Era)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Stalking, Delusional behavior, Fear of abandonment, Violence, Possessive behavior/Jealousy, May be canonically inaccurate, Kidnapping, Isolation, Biting, Forced relationship implied.

Naruto, like most protagonists or heroes, falls into the protective yandere category.

He has expressed a want to feel validation by his community.

He's also rather dedicated to saving people, even if they used to be foes or have become foes.

Hell, most of Shippuden he's trying to find ways to save Sasuke.

While Naruto is often loud and mischievous, he's very caring.

I imagine, towards a crush, Naruto is naive/childish.

He hasn't actually been in a relationship and spent most of his childhood hoping Sakura likes him.

So when he gets a new crush, he's still relatively new to the idea of actually being in a relationship.

Naruto is insecure about himself and his strength to protect at times.

That and he may also be nervous about his obsession not liking him.

Naruto's a sweetheart, don't get me wrong.

Although he tends to work extra hard to impress his obsession.

In his youth he was used to competing for attention.

Any attention was good attention, which is why he pulled all those pranks.

With his obsession, even when older, he still feels he has to compete to have your attention on him.

Which leads to some passive aggressive, if not hostile, moments with other people.

He's competitive in nature.

He was always like that when he was younger, especially with Sasuke.

Overall he's a competitive yet protective yandere that would do anything to be acknowledged by his crush.

Although, I'd also argue he can be possessive due to Kuruma.

A personal HC of mine is I think, due to him having the nine tails inside him, he expresses animalistic behavior when worked up.

I believe we actually see this in the show when he gets worked up, he ends up tapping into the fox's chakra.

So, imagine if he snaps, he does the same thing?

It could be anything from you getting hurt to someone taking you from him.

Maybe it involves the Akatsuki, or some other threat.

That or maybe it can happen on a smaller scale where his pupils change and he growls a bit when jealous?

Either way, times like those are terrifying because he can drop his restraint just enough to cause damage.

After he drives off someone he perceives as a threat, he no doubt has some blood on his clothes and skin.

Not only that but no one can pry you away from him once he latches on.

Naruto is dedicated to protecting since he's scared to lose you like he did with those closest to him.

There would be times when he defeated a foe or even multiple foes to protect you.

By the time someone found you two, Naruto would be tightly wrapped around you, growling at those who get too close.

It's hard to ignore those orange pupils of his, ones so much more animalistic and feral than his usual blue.

There's times when Naruto can be an animal when it comes to protecting you.

He's lost too many close to him and hates the idea of being alone.

It's natural he'd cling to you, right?

As I said before, Naruto would try to be sweet with you.

If someone else was hitting on you, he'd try to do it better.

Someone else giving you a gift? He can do it better!

Someone inviting you to hang out? Well, he's already made some plans!

Naruto may even be a bit delusional.

For example, if you invite him out to eat or train... He'd take it as a date.

He'd be so overjoyed, too.

You want to date him! Yes!

He's been waiting for so long.

Although, if you try to clarify later, he ends up giving you puppy eyes.

"What do you mean we aren't dating!?"

He'd be so distraught... he may even get you to attempt a date with him just to make him happy.

Naruto also seems like a very affectionate yandere.

He'd want to hug you and kiss you all the time, nuzzling into your neck whenever he sees you.

I can't help but think he bites, too... only when upset, though.

Would Naruto kill over you...?

... perhaps.

I think he'd only make any sort of attempt at that if they were a threat and were going to kill you.

Even then, he'll have to snap for that to happen.

He doesn't kill out of jealousy.

He more just ends up aggressive, growling at those too close like some sort of feral fox.

Would he kidnap?

If he's scared he'd lose you, I can see it.

He'd probably start by saying he's keeping you somewhere for your own safety...

But, surprise!

Now you're chained to a bed and he's already asking excitedly about dates or even marriage.

He's so delusional at times he doesn't realize you dislike the situation.

He's so busy cuddling you and "protecting" you that he doesn't realize you're scared.

That or he ignores it.

All Naruto wants is to be loved and protect the one he loves...

He'll do anything to have you all to himself...

If it means trapping you in a shared home to protect you... or if it means getting blood on his hands... he doesn't care as long as you're all his.

[donquixotehomura]

Me rn anticipating the purgatory pile 😂.

I don't have that much in drafts.... Does the ones in my brain count? Anyways the written ones.

One of them is actually complete and just needs the tags and such to be posted but... Well procrastination... Doffy x Yandere reader.... I thought like.. He's always the Yandere so why not have her be the Yandere? Also it's more in HC form (I think that's what it's called) with some detailed story telling... But it's all about how Yandere, Yandere reader is..... And how Doffy doesn't see anything wrong with it cause he's Doffy 😂.

I've got another one same situation as the 1st one but it's reader fully accepted Doffy being a Yandere for her.... Cause honestly I see all those red flags but still I'd rather he kidnapped me away from my life and kept me by his side, I don't have to deal with people, work, deal with bosses and coworkers... Like fr? I just need to look pretty and not show interest in anybody else and be all over you? Damn that's a nice deal seeing as I'm already obsessed with you and I'm so happy you noticed me.. Yay (don't do this irl ppl 😂)

Now onto one that's incomplete in writing but is fully in my head.... Actually I have a multi chapter fic in my head for it.... Doflamingo's Daughter... How would Doffy be if he had a bio daughter (knowing this horny flamingo it's very easy to assume he was irresponsible once as a teen and BAAM... A hellspawn) I have the idea of him being like 16-18 when he has her, he spoils her all the time, she's his blood, so she deserves the best of the best.... But him struggling to be a single dad... Too arrogant to ask for help and most definitely won't throw his daughter to someone else to raise her.... He won't fail her in anyway like his father failed him..... She grows up very attached to him and what he did at first as a superiority, arrogance situation quickly becomes "this little girl is my life and I won't let anyone or anything hurt her.... I'll burn down islands and go to war with the World Government for her sake"....current fic (1st chapter) is him getting her.... Her mother abandoned her with him not wanting anything to do with her (can't pretend nothing bad happened to her due to that)... Him trying to figure out how to parent and also grappling with the fact that this tiny creature is so damn loud... And also she quieted down immediately the moment he held her to his chest which made him like "???" Doffy.exe has run into an error 😂

The whole thing is about Dad Doffy and how on paper he's a good dad.... Well he is but he's raising a narcissistic maniac who's used to getting what she wants no matter what and has murder, destruction, conquering tendencies...... Yeah he's raising a female version of himself minus the trauma 😂

Quick note that won't fully work in (reader) setting I always write my fics in OC form then edit it to be reader form (my brain works weird) but his daughter is called Luna (Goddess of the Moon also in Spanish the moon is La Luna) so he always calls her his little moon, the light in his darkness, she lights up his dark life like the moon lights up the night sky.

As a child Luna was totally adorable and cute and loving towards Doflamingo, like always running to him "dada dada wove" and hugs and kisses on his cheek and nose ♥️..... Which also causes Doffy.exe has run into an error please..... Stop being so unconditionally loving why? How? Just... It's been so long since I felt this.... It's so genuine and pure not out of fear or need of being in his good graces or even trying to use him like everyone else.

That's a lot of ranting damn 😂 anyways done... Not gonna start talking about the wife OC (adjustable to reader) that I made I whole ass new race/clan for with their own abilities and lore that can both match his energy and also put him in his place cause many reasons but one of them is she's taller and bigger than him (not by much) and that just does things to him without her even trying 😂..... Both fluffy and sexual... Like being the small spoon has never been so tempting and amazing..... She just knows how to baby him....

Also brat taming and matching strapons/dick to her height but sssshhhh

WIP Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @fanaticsnail 💕🫶🏻❤️ I can’t wait for Rockier Port Incident and some pollen fics and so much Kid Pirates you’re writing, love it.

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have wips. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

(Me, opening my folder)

Haahaha, fuuuuuck

Okay, so let’s focus on the active WIPs that I am working on daily. All of them are Doflamingo x Reader in some form. I have only one fully Corazon x Reader but you can also ask regarding that one. P.S. NSFW usually it isn't thaaat smutty but just Doffy's inner thoughts are horny as hell in a lot of these and there are dark/adult themes throughout so... Yeah! If there is a bit of smut I'll put it as 🌶️, if the fic is smut-only 🌶️🌶️🌶️)

I’ll build castles for you, my love (look at me, not my brother) - Doflamingo x Rosinante's Wife! Reader (and some Past Rosinante) (multi-chap, NSFW, 🌶️)

Merlot & Primroses - North Blue Doflamingo x Rosinante's Wife!Reader, post Rosinante's death (multi-chap, NSFW, 🌶️)

close your eyes (it’ll all be over soon) - Doflamingo x Rosinante’s Wife!Reader (NSFW one-shot 🌶️🌶️🌶️ set in Merlot & Primroses where North Blue Doflamingo treats you differently when he meets you aka when you thought it can’t be more fucked up and dark, Doflamingo laughs in your face)

resemblance - Doflamingo x Rosinante’s Wife!Reader (NSFW one-shot, 🌶️🌶️🌶️)

marigolds - Marineford! Doflamingo (my love aka I squeal when I see him, I love him and his orange pants and his half buttoned shirt, and the fact he is fully wearing his coat and looks like a pink pom pom, "Doflamingo, I choose you!🦩" sir are you free on Saturday 😳😳😳) x Rosinante's Wife! Reader (SFW, oneshot)

As you can see, the Rosinante's Wife!Reader trope has a real hold on me. I got the idea in August and am still writing about it. Idk what it is about it. Prob cus the trope of Doffy longing after Cora's wife is so very Doffy of him? Now... For...

Celestial Dragon Doflamingo Fics 🤍

There are a few main ones. To know, Reader is not a Celestial Dragon in any of these stories.

Celestial Dragon Doffy x Rosinante’s Wife!Reader (NSFW multi-chap, 🌶️)

everything the world can offer - Returned to Mariejois Celestial Doflamingo x Civilian!Reader (NSFW, one-shot or multi-chap, tbd, 🌶️)

your saint - Returned to Mariejois Celestial Doflamingo x Doflamingo’s Wife! Reader (NSFW, one-shot, 🌶️🌶️🌶️)

butterflies and daffodils - Mariejois Raised Celestial Doflamingo x Civilian!Reader (NSFW, one-shot)

For these other ones, I’m mostly struggling with deciding how Reader reacts to Celestial Dragon! Doffy, depending on their history or lack of it, and it also depends whether this is Never Left Mariejois Doffy or Came Back and was Accepted Back Celestial Doffy. Those two are vastly different 🤣 I want to write a naive Reader but also Reader who is aware enough of how CRAZY Celestial Dragons are but then you get to that fear/dread factor once more and deciding how much of that to describe bcs what if they’re childhood friends, would that fear factor burst its head out regardless of their history? Would Reader just be appeasing Doffy while also still letting her guard down and just interacting with him like nothing’s changed?

(Sighs) I am overthinking myb a bit too much? Who knows...

Also, making this tag game for artists, too, same rules apply if the artists are comfortable with sharing their art wips as in the title of the art wip they’re working on!

Tagging @moonbaby26 @daydreamer-in-training @ohnomyhooves @skullfacedlady @tuquidflamingo @veroinfaciem @magnoliandew @wrennyx @darklordofcutlets @sugarpsalms @allmightskitten @froggiewrites @queenmimi2817 @ladycrocy @saracrossing02

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[dykedvonte]

wanted to say I appreciate your nuanced takes on MW and especially Curly. i don't get the claim that the fandom is full of Curly apologists when majority (esp yt and tiktok) say he's worse than Jimmy. Yes there's commentary about bro culture defending people, he def messed up in trying to placate Jimmy (tbh "we'll fix this" sounded more like trying to keep someone prone to outbursts like Jim calm and not hurt Anya/himself) but I don't think he did nothing to help Anya, since she continued to confide in him and he had less than a week to resolve it before the crash (I also don't get everyone saying he knew for ages when it seems like Anya told him that same week). I get Jimmy's a pos but saying stuff like Curly should've known he'd crash the ship or that Jim had a criminal record he ignored, reducing them to obviously horrible villain and willfully ignorant sidekick feels like a disservice to the game. If your best friend turned out to be horrible, what would you do in a confined space in the span of a few days to respond? I'd say some of the horror comes from trying to do good but ultimately failing, Curly's state after the crash is meant to be tragic horror not revenge/punishment

Thank you and this is what I want to get across.

A lot of information we have to supplement when it comes to how long things have been happening on this current ship. I think people try to add on to the horror and negligence by making things more obvious so it can feel like it was easier to avoid when, true to life, its not. Jimmy clearly didn't deserve or appreciate what Curly did for him in getting him the job, but do you think if Jimmy was that big of a menace on Earth he would've given him a position where he could have that level of power over people's lives? There's something in the fact he specifically chose to pick a position so close to himself where he could watch Jimmy.

I hate the bro code argument because that is a whole can of worms people really don't get. That sort of mentality is born from the general respect and preference of male matter over female ones. Curly is clearly not that guy, he is absent minded about the issue and inadvertently dismissive but he clearly believes Anya, he just can't understand what she's going through. It's an onslaught of information that no one really reacts right to. Additonally, the entire discussion of her assualt plays to heavy into the idea that there is fault outside of the perpertratior when it comes to SA. It's too close if she only did this or if Curly had protected her better but the fact of the matter is Jimmy did what he did. He did it before any of the conversations with Anya about it and it's why her behavior seemed to change so drastically in those last two days.

He has other conflicting thought and while his role as a Captain should've taken over, people act like it's not a very human thing to have such a toxic presence cloud your judgement. It is never easy to separate friend from coworker once that connection is formed, you want to help them, especially if they were friend first and for a long while like in this case. It's not right, but people act like it would be easy when the game clearly points out that no choice is easy to make, especially when you have to make it for more than one person. You have the weigh the consequences, look at all the options and make a plan. People can headcanon and decide how long things where happening, but if we look at what we were presented through the characters eyes, the only person given time to do that was Jimmy.

He waited two months after the crash to appoint himself Captain. Every time a problem was brought up he immediately took action and refused to sit on it and find a better solution. I think it's important to look at the warped way Jimmy takes initiative where Curly didn't as it works as a good contrast of why you don't just run in to "fix" things. The quickest and easiest option may not be the safest or most beneficial. I think some thoughts on the game suffer from the black and white thinking the game doesn't operate on along with us being voyeurs. We see what exactly led to what but the characters don't. They don't have the hindsight and foresight we do and even ours is scrambled by the non-linear story telling.

Like it's hard to talk abuou those grey zones without sounding like an apologist because you're explaining why taking responsibility isn't easy. It's not and it's weird to act like it would be in a scenerio that led up to the events of the game knowing what we know. We see all these characters in such isolated moments with various things before, in between, after and even during we aren't privy too. The idea that Jimmy is worse than Curly heavily banks on the words Jimmy was saying to Jimmy before he crashed the ship. That whatever happened on the ship was his responsibility to bare, which is true due to his position. But, are they not still not responsible for taking the actions Curly then must bare?

Like i feel like people think that these are situation that become easier with age or when you are in a postion of authority and they aren't. You don't lose your biases or gain some sudden knowledge that makes it easier. It just becomes more tiring as you keep dealing with it. I would be first in line to say Curly fucked up and should've done more but the idea he knew how bad it could get or he really saw the worst in the people around him and ignored it pretty much ignores a huge aspect of his character and the game.

[theokusgallery]

I hate that I have reoccurring themes in everything I make. YES this guy has a complex over the fact that everyone prefers his sibling AGAIN. YES he was ostracized by his peers since he was in primary school and never knew why until years later. URGH

[zalder]

Doing the right thing was always harder than doing the easy thing. That was why so many people so many people struggled with it. It was a weakness that even Zarah didn’t know that she was immune from. At the end of end of the day, she was human and even she could have impulses that were less than generous from time to time. “It’s easy to say what you would do when you’re not in the situation to have that choice,” she could admit. “I like to think that I could resist the power and do the right thing. Intellectually, it’s what I’d want to do but then there is this other side of me – a darker side of me that would literally make the worst choices.” That was where she hoped that there would be people in her life who would bring her to her senses and encourage her better angels to win. “What is meant to happen is supposed to happen and maybe it still would but if you could do something to interrupt someone’s worst day, wouldn’t any sane person give it a go?” After all it was all theory based on fictional technology and so none of it really mattered at the end of the day.

Zarah was very much an action sort of person. She could plan when it was necessary, knew how to put things together in a cohesive way. In her day to day, she simply took action when an idea came to her. She didn’t allow herself to get too bogged down with worrying about the aftermath – especially when it came to things that there wasn’t any real chance of long term consequences. It probably helped that in general she wasn’t afraid to do thing on her own. It was great when she could pull someone else in but if they didn’t she wasn’t going to let that stop her if she felt strongly enough about it. That didn’t mean, she believed in inviting herself in on things, even with people she generally thought liked her. “Do random roadside attractions have employees?” she couldn’t help but ask. She assumed if there was a museum or a whole town built around the landmark it seemed likely but if it was more like a random art exhibit on the side of the road it was probably less likely. “It would be pretty disappointing if you ended up somewhere alone and no one to take the photos but exceptionally long arms work as good as a selfie stick.” Honestly, the trips without pictures could be just as much fun if it meant getting to fully immerse in the experience without technology getting in the way. “The savings book idea would fail me. I’d end up borrowing from it every time someone invites me out. I’m much better taking it to a saving account I have to pretty much leave alone.”

There were pros and cons of not immediately heading to college after high school. It had taken her some time to really make that decision to get back into it. She’d never really had that dorm experience and a lot of the people in her classes were younger, not that she was exactly old but she had a few more years of life experience in comparison to some of them. She felt like having her own place, having a full time job and trying to balance the classes at night as an adult was easier than it would have been if she’d pursued it when she was eighteen or nineteen in comparison now. That didn’t mean it didn’t have its complications. For now, she was content to have a bit of a break before the next semester really kicked in. “I’m sure one of them will step up,” she said with a nod. They seemed nice enough and if they didn’t step up, surely someone that he worked with would be willing to help for a good cause. There wasn’t any cause as good as a road trip. “If they don’t, we’ll figure it out. I’m pretty good at rolling with the punches.” She allowed herself another sup of her drink. “Hopefully, he’s not home freaking out about fireworks. Marmalade hates them. I had to dose him a bit before I left the apartment.”

elias smiles, nodding a bit, “you’re not wrong there. it would be so tempting to use that power to visit old memories, or create new ones with your vision versus how they are intended to be created, but the right thing to do would be to use it for some actual good in the world. to make some difference that will affect the lives of millions in a positive way.” he wondered about the possibilities, what he would do. mostly he wondered if he would have the strength to use that power for actual good and not selfish reasons like the ones he stated. he would like to think he would use it for good, but there was no way for him to truly know. “change wouldn’t be too bad in the world. i know they say that people are supposed to die without interruption, but does the same go for blessing the less fortunate? i guess it would, huh?” he tried not to over think it because it’s not like they really had a time turner, tardis, or delorean of any sort of way to go back to the past. but still one did have to wonder.

most of the time when elias was planning future plans, unless they were revolving around someone’s birthday party or something else important, chances were eli was simply just planning. he had wanted to do this type of road trip for some time but had never had anyone who seemed interested in it, and he felt bad asking people to join him. but he was starting to feel like life was passing him by, everyone else seemed to be forming the memories he wished to form too, and he was tired of sitting on the sidelines. at least, in terms of traveling. “i assume they do too. in my head i just picture a very excited employee with a camera hanging around their neck just ready to snap the first picture they can. blinding you with a flash before you even get to step one foot in the actual place. if not, i guess i should invest in a good selfie stick. even if i have a good road trip partner i would feel bad making them my personal photographer, and i would them in the pictures too.” then he could create a nice scrap book of memories, the idea made him smile a bit more. “i will also invest in one of those savings books, you know? the kind that like start at a dollar or something and keep adding on until a certain amount? apparently it’s actually a very helpful tool, if you’re responsible enough. we can definitely make it happen.”

“oh, i bet.” even though he has been out of college for some time he can still remember the mountain of homework and reading he had to do during the semester. and during finals week or midterms? forget about it. he would be buried in a sea of books just reading things ranging from how to properly help a cow give birth all the way to assisting with a delicate surgery. by the end of it all, it was a miracle anything stuck. his smile softens when she says she’s glad for his support, it made him feel good to know he could support the dreams of his friends in one way or another. he grins at her night driving comment, playfully replying, “whaaat. no, of course not.” now summer 2025 had officially gotten exciting and his mind buzzed with all the places they could visit. “i’ll have to check in with my roommates to see if they would mind taking care of mochi while we go off on our adventures. i don’t think mochi would be up for any alien body snatching either, though i have not yet had this type of conversation with him. maybe i should do that tonight and give him the option.” he looks over to her, “just in case he gives me the meow of approval, how do you feel about traveling with a cat? he’s mostly calm, but he does get randomly affectionate and suddenly needs all the head scratches in the world.”

[lilacerull0]

they'll try to convince you you need to be Cold Hearted to be a scientist, but realistically you need to have that Spark and Passion™️ if you want to make a discovery or inspire others to explore the world of science