#with a low of negative nine

[jesuisgourde]

listen, i like chicago. i like living here, i love my job, there's loads of interesting people and places and things to do

i am not a fan of the snow or of how goddamn motherfucking cold it gets

[novy2sirius]

astro notes volume nine

༊࿐ gemini’s often get hated on because a lot of people hate themselves but don’t realize it. gemini’s are mirrors. they try to relate to you as much as possible. this is also why they’re so charming. they match people’s vibes. long term though people tend to dislike them since they don’t wanna meet themselves/be around people like them. this isn’t always the case of course. when low vibrational there is definitely gemini’s that are fake since the sign is associated with gossip. there is times when they will be nice to your face and then talk bad about you behind your back. however, high vibrational ones put their energy toward their interests and don’t gossip, but instead have better communication skills and are direct with people

༊࿐ aquarius’ are probably the most misunderstood sign. every one i’ve met has just had a chaotic upbringing and because of this they have lots of chaos going on their mind sometimes. they don’t always know how to express themselves perfectly as they’re the opposite sign of leo, so they can come off as cold and insensitive. i’ve actually found often times they don’t even truly know when they’re being insensitive though until they’ve been called out by someone and then (if they’re evolved) they do try and correct this if they know they’ve hurt someone, so in other words it’s not that they don’t care about you, it’s that they can be quite literally unaware due to their upbringing and them being raised in a “cold” household. i would say especially aquarius moons though

༊࿐ moon square mars can indicate what your soul truly wants to do in life doesn’t always align with your actions and it may take some time for you to make changes in your life or change who you are as a person. for these people change is harder than it is for others since the moon is associated with comfortability, squares create obstacles, and mars is where we take action they want to stay in their comfort zone and can lack motivation at times depending on where they happen to be at in life. people with this aspect should force themselves to do things they don’t want to in order to try and work through this square

༊࿐ venus and the ascendant are great placements to check for fashion, but if you want more info about fashion you can also check the house of your neptune as it is the higher octave of venus. the sign in neptune doesn’t change often, so it won’t be telling, but the house can be helpful! for example, neptune in the 10h could indicate looking better in classy clothes, professional clothes, brown clothes, or darker colored clothing

༊࿐ jupiter is the planet of ease, so yes it can show things that come to us with ease, but it can also show areas where we’re lazy because jupiter discusses the areas we haven’t had to ever work for. for example, jupiter in the 5h could indicate being too lazy to have any hobbies that are productive and just enjoying watching netflix, jupiter in the 4h could indicate being too lazy to leave the house and just being a huge homebody, etc

༊࿐ your 4th house ruler can tell the type of things that you inherit from your family members. this doesn’t just include hereditary things, but also things we have in common with our family that we’ve learnt as children and taken into adulthood. for example, often those with their 4th house ruler in the 7th house act a lot like their parents do in their own relationships once they start dating or genetically it could mean having similar beauty to one of your parents (usually the mother)

༊࿐ your 8th house profection year is at 19 years old which is why we hear most people say that 19 is a really hard age. it’s a very transformational time in your life for multiple reasons. 19 is also the number of negative karma in numerology, so it will especially be a struggle if you’ve got a lot of unresolved karma that you’re carrying with you. it can be even worse if you’re a gemini or cancer ascendant because it will also be a saturn year for you on top of it being an 8h year. for profection charts everyone will have the same house years, but not planets in each year

༊࿐ the part of fortune can show what type of luck we attract at our worst moments (when we need it most). this is different than jupiter representing ways in our life we get lucky in general. for example, an aries part of fortune can indicate getting what you want by being direct/assertive with people or getting really lucky during super dangerous moments when you’ve could’ve literally died. i know someone with their part of fortune in the 10th house who didn’t go to college and basically lounged around at 18-19 doing nothing with their life, but then at 20 created an online business and got really lucky because it happened to blow up on tiktok. they were at the worst point in their life before their company blew up though, so as you can see part of fortune is more about major lucky events that happen right after you’re at a low point in life

— © novy2sirius don’t copy my work !

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Perfect Queen?

BRANDON STARK X READER

Summary- As the new queen and lady of Winterfell, you feel out of place. Thankfully, Bran reassures you of your position and loves you for who you are- not who you are trying to be.

A/N- I have not written for GoT in awhile, but HotD season 2 has sparked my interest again! Reminder that REQUEST ARE OPEN! <3

Requested by- @eualiabd @zamwnda

Word count- 1,612

You were barely a noble. The third daughter out of seven girls born into house Frey. Not a single male survived long enough to carry on the family name. What does a family full of women do? Marry off. So quickly that just after your ten and nine birthday, you were the only sister who was unwed.

Maybe being from a low house, and not having much experience with lordship- landed you as King Brandon Starks wife.

Of course, your mother was ecstatic when the king of all men, wanted to marry you. You had only known the previously named prince when he was a boy.

His father, Ned Stark, would visit on business to the Riverlands. Brandon always joined, eager to see you. Even after his fall, you were able to see him one last time before he disappeared for many years. You were devastated when you learnt of his 'death.' When he returned, you figured he forgot all about you. Though, a dozen knights showing up at your door, requesting you to meet with the King, changed your mind.

"A Stark never forgets an oath." Was his reasoning, suddenly a fond memory of Bran and you as children appeared. He, even at his young age, held your hand and swore on his name to marry you one day. To join your families.

At his now official and surprising marriage proposal, you quickly agreed. Any woman would be insane not to, feelings aside, you were helping the reputation of your house.

While your reunion with him was quick, it was satisfactory. He had changed with age and with his new responsibilities. As king and The Three Eyed Raven. Deep down, he was still the boy you loved. Even if he only showed it to you.

The cold air was refreshing, not stiff not muggy like you were used to. Though it took some time, you've learnt to grow fond of the snow and crisp feeling. A trip back to Brans home made you overjoyed. Even if Bran was only there on 'kingly' matters.

A large coat made of the finest furs rested up on your shoulders. A pin with the Stark emblem let all know you were the Queen. A title you were trying to get comfortable with. There were so many duties you were getting familiar with.

That wasn't hardly the worst part, however.

What irked you to no end, were the stares. Mostly women who were in court, or wives of men who frequented the castle. They had no room to speak, yet still murmured and gossiped to each other. The audacity to talk about the queen as they passed you. It shocked you that they were so informal.

You could never get close enough to hear, as Brandon had two Knights with you at all times. You understood the precaution, though your freedom was slightly limited.

"Bran, please tell me what they said..." You pleaded. It was evening, and the two of you were sat side by side for supper. Only separated by a corner of the table.

He looked up at you, face expressionless like it always was. "It is insignificant gossip."

You pushed your warm plate of food back, you were not interested anymore. "Not to me, it isn't."

Bran was fully aware of what they were thinking and saying. Just because he was All-Seeing, did not mean you also had to bear that burden. He would do everything he could to keep away the ill effects of his powers.

"Consider the matter finished." Was all he responded with, very 'Bran-like.'

However, the matter was not finished to you. With enough time, you knew you could get Bran to cave into you. He almost never told you 'no.' All he wanted was to keep you happy. He just did not see any reason to spread negative thoughts into your mind.

You pushed your chair back with a small screech. Taking a deep breath, you took one long stride to Bran's side.

Maybe you were trying to soften him up, you'd never tell, but you wrapped both hands around his forearm. Even crouching down to look up at him.

"I want to be a good queen. I want to fix whatever they chastised me for. Bran, you know I wont give until you tell me... Surely you know that?" You lightly moved your hand up and down his arm. He did know, he just wanted to do something his way for once. Deep within, he knew you'd get what you wanted. It was terribly hard to do anything that upset you.

He pursed his lips, giving out a sigh. "You are a good queen." He leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

With a puff you stood up, letting him go. "Obviously no one else thinks so." Your dramatic side got the best of you as you turned and left the dinning hall.

You allowed yourself to wallow in self pity, something you'd have time to regret later.

Your handmaid rushed behind you, eager to help whatever the problem was.

"I just don't understand why he won't tell me, Tamsin." You sulked on a padded chair while your handmaid gently took the ties and pins out of your hair.

She pressed a friendly hand to your shoulder, "He just wants to protect you."

You gave a half hearted smile, "I want to get better, I've never been a queen before..." You stood to let Tamsin being to unlace your corset.

You both heard a strong knock, assumingly from a member of the kings guard.

"The queen needs a moment to dress!" Tamsin called out, aware of a queens modesty.

A deep voice called back, "The King requests to see her Majesty."

Tamsin stopped with the laces and went to peek her head out. You couldn't hear what she was saying, but she quickly returned.

"Uh, Ma'am, the King is outside... waiting..." She was always a little nervous around Bran, you knew it was because of the Title and passiveness.

She fiddled with her fingers, "You are dismissed, thank you. Please let the King in." She responded with a light curtsy.

After Tamsin opened the door, you stood and watched as a knight pushed Bran in. The two of you were quickly left alone as Bran waved off the man.

You look down, trying to press your dress flat, slightly anxious.

Bran simply looked, the smallest smile present. "I apologize for upsetting you. It was not my intention." He says, his own hands resting still in his lap.

"I know..." You licked your lips, suddenly your mouth felt dry. At the following silence you started again, "Will you help me?" You gestured to your lace that was halfway tied on your back.

He nodded, "Of course."

He pushed himself over, getting closer to you. You turned your back to him, pulling your hair over your shoulders.

"Bran?" You quietly said as his gentle hands worked at your laces. An activity that was strangely intimate and peaceful.

"Yes, my love?" He responded, mindlessly. You let the dress fall from your frame. You stepped out of it, now only in a white slip.

You gnawed at your bottom lip, tears were threatening. "Please, just tell me if I become a better queen?" Your voice cracked up on the word 'queen', tears spilling over.

Hands came up to try and cover your sobs.

''I have a feeling you have been struggling with this for awhile..." Bran says, ushering you to spin around with his hands at your waist. He would never read your secret thoughts without your permission.

You weren't able to deny or agree, but you turned to look at him.

"I have seen, and you will become the most loving Queen the realm has ever known. You will be named for your care of the people." He said, pulling you down into a hug.

"Really?"

You fell further to your knees, leaning your head onto this lower chest. Bran pet your hair slowly, his other hand rested on your back.

"Have I ever lied to you?" You shook your head, still buried in him.

"Would you really like to know what those two women said?" He asked, a finger bringing your chin up. You nodded.

"They said your house was not high enough for you to become queen. They were sure that they would be better candidates." His face was stoic, clearly in disgust at what they said.

You sighed and rested your head down once again, arms crossed under your head. You looked out the side sadly, though starting to accept your position. There was nothing you could do about the house you were born into.

"You do know that I would rather die an old and lonely man than marry another? Right?" He pets your hair once again.

A smile arises on your face. "I couldn't think of a more handsome nor giving husband of you."

Without skipping a beat, he says, "Well, that's because I am king." His expression and tone is serious, but you laugh nonetheless.

It is soon clear that he was joking as well, as he breaks into a grin.

You sigh once more, this time happy. "Can we retire to bed now?" You ask, squeezing his hand.

"Whatever you so wish."

Sleep was moments from taking you, your eyes fighting to stay open. You were pressed up as close as possible to Bran, your head tucked under his chin.

"I meant what I said, earlier." Bran mentions, staring up. Without moving you speak, "About what?"

"That you're already a great queen." Your heart fills with flutters.

"Promise?"

"I swear it."

A/N- Not going to lie to y'all, I hate this one. But, I promised more Bran content! Please let me know if you have any ideas on how to improve! Thanks for reading, and thanks again for the support guys!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[goldenlaquer]

Woahhhh if asks are open... can I ask for Gintoki trying really hard to impress this girl he likes, but everything goes to absolute shit because this is Gintama? Totally fine if you delete! I still devour all your old stuff to fill my soul with life 🥹 Never come across anyone who writes Gintama as accurately as you bebe 😘

Sakata Gintoki Headcanons:

If Gintoki made a list of pros and cons about himself, it would probably read like this:

Pro: he has a big dick. (Big dick reading as BIG DICK, in bold, all-caps. Triple underlined.)

Con: he's a perfectionist. (Con: he's a liar.)

So, it isn't all that hard to imagine impressing you would be a Herculean task for Gintoki.

Asking Kagura for advice is like shooting yourself in the foot. Gin-chan is penniless, she says matter-of-factly. No lady wants a broke, mooching, deadbeat boyfriend. A pause to let him absorb these insults, and then, Papi brought Mama three heads, she kindly tells him like it's the secret to your heart, and that's very romantic in Yato culture apparently. Which reminds Gintoki that Kagura is from a different species just as much as her barely counting as female to begin with. Well, in human culture, he could give you as many heads as you'd want— but that's bases away and he's been swinging strikes all throughout this sad, unrequited game.

Asking Shinpachi— no, no. Now, that's a lost cause.

He tries. He does. He really tries.

He tries complimenting you. Suavely slide in a comment about how your teeth looks like it could bite into hard candy, no problem. That your hair doesn't look as dry and brittle today than it did yesterday, and oh wow, your tits look... wow. Double thumbs up.

He tries paying for your meal, to show that he can provide for you, that he's not going to be the broke, mooching, deadbeat boyfriend Kagura deemed him to be. Work a few odd jobs and have all the correct bills in his normally depleted wallet, even break a comb on his hair and get dressed to the nines in his nice, regular clothes that passed the sniff inspection when he shook it out from a pile of unwashed laundry— and it's just, while on the way to his favorite family diner he invited you to, he's passing by a pachinko parlor, with all of its flashy get-rich-quick displays and bright dinging noises from within, and that was when he's suddenly sensing it... the taste of victory. Long story short, the only thing he'll end up tasting is the strawberry parfait that you paid for.

Whatever poor progress that manages to inch forward always ends straight back to the negatives. Damn the perverted stalker and her masochistic plays she forces on him. Damn the timing and whatever deity has pitted against him when you step onto the scene to the sight of him wielding a paddle as the stalker squeals happily while tied to the wooden cross. No, this isn't— he wants to tell you, but your expression has already smoothed into a carefully blank canvas before you turn your back to him and walk away to leave him to... it. No, this isn't what it looks like, he wants to scream.

In a mood of desperation and shots deep in cheap gutter sake, he'd even wrote a poem in the dead of night, detailing the color of your eyes and all the things they reminded him of, invented a new word just to make a rhyme with your name, how the sound of your voice catches in his chest when he hears it— shit if he knew anything about pretty words, he'd never wrote anything longer than a drawn penis before— and once he was done, what he did next was ball the whole sheet up, open the nearest window, and pitch it to the stars. The lamest shit he ever did in his life will be taken to his grave.

Sometimes, because his name is Gintoki, and he is the protagonist of a septic tank for low hanging fruit comedy series called 'Gintama', sometimes the whole universe is against him.

There is a two episode-length arc the occurs, but due to the time-constraints of these headcanons and the writer's own laziness, the details of it shall not be outlined, but please know it involves an exposition, conflict, rising action, a climax (and not the good kind), falling action, some explosions and a tiny grave misunderstanding that leaves you storming from the wreckage in fury and exasperation, and Gintoki catching your wrist, spinning you around to face him. Emotions and adrenaline running high, chests heaving in exertion, and seeing your face covered in soot and sweat and your eyes huge and wet, looking damn more beautiful than you have any right to be, that's when Gintoki finally decides to put his big balls to use and confess himself to you. Opening his mouth and—

Plotfully, the wind picks up, and then suddenly a wadded ball of paper rolls to hit your feet. Both you and Gintoki look down to stare at this interruption. You bend down to pick it up and unfold the ball, startling at whatever you find, snapping your eyes up to him. "Gin, your name is on here?"

Shit! Gintoki realizes, recognizing the paper now. This is the worst possible timing! My stupid shitty poem somehow found its way to the woman it was written for. And why the fuck did I sign it!

He looks left and right, searching for a vending machine to put his head through, and when there are none, he's scrubbing his face with his hand, looking at you and the damned poem he wrote that found it's way to you, as if was meant to be there. "I wrote it." He finally grumbles. "For you. Don't be creeped out."

Your eyes scan the page from top to bottom, reading. Your eyebrows shoot up, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"This is really what you think about me?" Your trembling voice barely above a whisper.

Gintoki pauses. Then nods. "Yeah. Every word."

Your expression blanks. You turn the wrinkled paper around. Gintoki squints.

Shit! Gintoki thinks. I was so drunk I never wrote anything down, I just drew a penis!

[starhoppin]

pick a picture; how do you capture people's attention

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3

disclaimer; this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.

「 pile one」

king of wands, the magician (cb: the moon), queen of cups

based on the court + major arcana cards, you have a very powerful aura/energy surrounding you. i'm hearing "naturally charismatic." you're the type of person that people turn to stare at when you walk into a room - all eyes are naturally drawn to you. people are attracted to your confidence; it makes you magnetic. you're self-assured and patient - others wonder how you're so successful. "you keep your cards close to your chest." you don't broadcast your desires to the world which helps you with your manifestations. you have strong boundaries, and there are parts of you that you keep hidden from the world - this draws people in since they're curious to learn more about you. you also have a healthy self-esteem which people admire. you're calm and collected - queen vibes. you draw people's attention because you're poised. i'm specifically getting the image of the queen in princess diaries (the one played by julie andrews). people look to you for guidance and strength.

[songs that may resonate] look what you made me do - taylor swift, la vie en rose - michael buble, wow - post malone

「 pile two」

the moon (cb: the hanged man, three of cups), nine of wands (cb: ace of cups), the emperor (cb: eight of cups)

you're mysterious to a lot of people. you draw attention due to your ability to adapt to any social situation. i'm hearing "enigma." at first, you may come off a bit guarded; however, when you're surrounded by friends and family, you're a lot more open. this paradox naturally draws people's attention. nonetheless, others view you as influential. you draw attention because you're the type of person who comes into someone's life and completely flips it upside down. even with a brief interaction, you have a way of changing people. you capture people's attention because of your connection to the divine. others can sense this about you. people feel like they can open up to you - you see them for who they truly are. you may often be used as a messenger for the divine. remember how i said that you have the ability to change people's lives? this is how. you have a gift of conveying what message a person needs to hear in the way it needs to be said. people are naturally drawn to you because of this gift. you capture people's attention because of your resiliency. you're not afraid to walk away from something that is no longer serving you. you know when to let go. you're independent. you don't tolerate or entertain low-vibrational people or situations.

[songs that may resonate] stories - paden, waiting games - trella, you were good to me - jeremy zucker, chelsea cutler.

「 pile three」

the world (cb: two of cups, four of cups), queen of cups, the empress

people are drawn to you because you have a good head on your shoulders. people think your independence is attractive. you may have a lot of suitors since you don't entertain just anyone; you're selective when it comes to romantic relationships. you're very discerning when it comes to people who approach you (romantic or otherwise) with negative intentions. you can spot them from a mile away. your aura/energy captures people's attention. you exude a calm and compassionate energy - you're approachable. others may even describe you as bubbly. i'm hearing the sound of laughter? like a really bright laugh that's infectious. so either you have a laugh like that or people tend to laugh a lot around you. where you go, happiness and abundance tend to follow which draws people's attention. with your energy and your intellect, you're naturally magnetic. i'm getting ethereal/royal vibes. "what you see is what you get." you're very transparent. you're not the type to be nice to someone's face and then talk behind their back, you're just genuinely nice. people may think that this comes easy, but you make a conscious effort to be this way. there's an air of humility surrounding you that people are drawn to. they know they can trust you.

[songs that may resonate] paper rings - taylor swift, i dare you - bea miller, i was in heaven - chelsea cutler

tarot deck used in this reading: cirque du tarot

[episims]

Foxfire ROS

After playing Foxfire for 9 rounds I've started to feel like I could use something to nudge me out of my routines a bit! For the next round, I'm going to try how adding random scenarios to the mix feels like 😁

I didn't find any existing scenario lists to be exactly what I wanted: more gameplay prompts that leave room for interpretation, and not so many strict rules or tasks or forced drama (my sims create enough of that as it is lol).

So I cherry-picked some scenarios that I liked, edited others, and created many new ones. A shout-out to @kayleigh-83 for this list that was a great starting point!

Night out: Visit a community lot after dark.

Bring your own basket: Visit a park with family or friends.

Movie marathon: Invite friends over for movies and snacks, or go on a movie binge by yourself.

Family matters: Invite over a relative or someone you share a similar bond with.

Fits like a glove: Wear a new accessory.

Games night: Set up a board game or fire up a console for an evening. PC owners can throw a lan party.

Burn off steam: Devote a day to exercising in any form.

Playing hooky: A child or teen skips one school day.

Online friends: Spend an evening chatting over the internet.

Fence-mending: Talk to a walkby you don't know or have a low relationship with.

Fertile ground: Get a new plant to your garden or other outdoor area.

Pulling strings: Use influence to your advantage.

Tired of cooking: Order delivery for a meal.

Peculiar flavor: The sim with the least cooking points takes the cooking turn.

Sprucing up: Choose a room or space and give it a facelift.

Touch base: Call the friend you currently have the lowest relationship score with.

Dine out: Eat at a restaurant.

New hobby: Try out a hobby you haven't explored before.

Broken record: Talk about your favorite hobby to every sim you encounter during one day.

Slumber party: Invite friends for a sleepover.

Power outage: Turn off all the lights except for candles and only make uncooked meals for a day.

Cloud over a head: Argue with every sim you encounter during one day.

Old gang: Meet up with the friends you have known for the longest.

Turn up the heat: Woohoo in public.

New ink: Get a tattoo.

Fresh air: Spend a day outdoors.

Homebody: Spend a day indoors.

Got the moves: Visit a community lot to hit the dance floor or turn on a stereo at home and dance until you run out of energy.

Make the bed: Change sheets for all beds on the lot.

Health concerns: Visit or call over a doctor.

All things are transient: Sell three objects.

Odd bottle: Consume a potion from your inventory.

Dig it: Spend a day treasure hunting.

Capture it: Take a picture and hang it on the wall.

Running on fumes: Have a cup of coffee once every few hours.

Reaching enlightenment: Meditate for a day.

Sugar rush: Prepare only desserts for a day.

Clocking extra time: Spend an evening on a computer either blogging, writing, or giving financial advice.

Dressed to the nines: Go on a date in formalwear.

Pretty lights: The outdoor areas of the lot are filled with fireflies for the round.

School assignment: A child or teen collects bugs for the round.

Stealing the show: Perform with an instrument or a microphone, freestyle for tips, or breakdance in public.

Devil on a shoulder: Prank every sim you encounter during one day.

Turning the page: Negative relationship effects are reduced for 48 hours and any existing fury states are cleared (get the 'forgiving' vacation benefit).

Meeting deadlines: Job performance is increased for 48 hours (get the 'industrious' vacation benefit).

Hot stuff: The attractiveness is increased for 48 hours (get the 'je ne sais quoi' vacation benefit).

On the ball: Skill, talent badge, and homework rates are increased for 48 hours (get the 'refreshed' vacation benefit).

Scatterbrained: Skill, talent badge, and homework rates are decreased for 48 hours (get the 'jetlagged' vacation penalty).

Bonfire night: Light up a bonfire with family or with friends.

Explosive entertainment: Throw a party with fireworks.

By example: Share hobby tips or instruct someone in a hobby, or find a sim who can share tips or instruct you in one.

Score points: Visit a community lot to play arcade games, poker, don't wake the llama, mahjong, or myshuno.

Self-care: Skilling is forbidden for a day. Instead, practice recovering activities like taking bubble baths, enjoying hot tubs or hot springs, getting massages, relaxing in saunas, or sunbathing.

Feeling chipper: Compliment every sim you encounter during one day.

I'll probably add these whenever I come up with new ones. Scenario ideas are welcome!

[odetopictorialism]

From "The Vampyr", a gothic horror film directed by Danish director Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1932

The film presented a number of technical challenges for Dreyer, as it was his first "talkie" and was recorded in three languages.

To simplify matters, he decided to use very little dialogue, and much of the story is told with intertitle, like a silent film. The action was shot entirely on location, and to enhance the atmospheric content, Dreyer opted for a washed out, soft focus photographic technique. The soundtrack was created in Berlin, where the characters' voices, the sound effects, and the score were recorded.

After having its release delayed by nine months, so the American films Dracula (1931) and Frankestein (1931) could be released first, Vampyr was released in Germany, where it opened to a generally negative reception from both audiences and critics.

The film was long considered a low point in Dreyer's career, but modern critical reception has been much more favorable, with critics praising the film's disorienting visual effects and atmosphere.

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Previous Chapter

A03 Link

Summary: In the aftermath of Detroit's android revolution, Nines grapples with the complexities of his newfound deviancy. As he seeks to establish his place in a newly transformed society, his resolve is put to the ultimate test when he is paired with Detective Gavin Reed-a notoriously volatile human with a well-established hatred for androids-to investigate a series of murders.

While initial impressions of his partner seem to suggest his reputation is well-deserved, the more time Nines spends with him, the more he is forced to challenge his judgments. As they form an unexpected bond, the RK900 is also pushed to examine truths about himself he would much rather seek to forget. (A Retelling of 'More Than Our Parts' from the POV of Nines.)

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 5.3K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @gho-stychan @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

To the dismay of all those affected, RK800 had been selected to choose their movie. Not that Anderson’s taste would have served them better—high-octane, low-budget action features with impressively bad acting. 

Nines simply could not understand why the human and android did not rotate. Their biweekly film nights were infrequent enough that it would have been easy to balance control. Despite this, both parties insisted on an archaic coin-flip system.

Initially, this had been a coin issued to RK800 for calibration purposes. Following an inordinate number of failed attempts, Anderson insisted it must be weighted. A digital replacement was employed to appease him, until he had hotly repeated the claim.  

Rather than debate the feasibility of a computing algorithm being ‘weighted’, RK800 had complied with the ongoing request that Anderson’s preferred currency be used.

The weathered nickel was pinched deftly between calloused fingers, brandished like a priceless artifact. His so-called lucky penny. He vouched for its reliance proudly, claiming it always landed on heads—and that he would gladly drain the contents of Sumo’s dog bowl should he lose the wager.

The coin was placed on the flat of his knuckle and flicked with a snapped ding. As the human watched on, it gained impressive height and momentum, clipping the side of a lamp shade. His chest was puffed, and a preemptive smirk of victory tugged at his lips.

The metal fell back to earth, hitting the coffee table with a clink. It spun on its side for several rotations before finally tipping over. The embossed lines of the union shield gleamed, catching against the suspended bulb rocking above.

The smirk fell from Anderson's face. He gawked at the cent with an inexplicable degree of accusation, as though it had personally betrayed him.

Defying all laws of statistical improbability, it seemed the universe was working against him. At least, this had been the dramatic proclamation made before he left for the kitchen. His feet dragged laboriously, as he muttered incoherently—something about fetching a drink. 

Whether or not this would comprise the liquid in Sumo's dish was yet to be seen.

In his absence, the androids were left alone. RK800 secured a nearby remote, prepared to choose whatever dire cinematic offering they’d be forced to endure. The television flickered to life, tuned to an evening news segment. One that was infamous for its sensationalism—riddled with lurid headlines, ominous sound bites and manufactured urgency. 

It lived up to expectations. Following a bizarre montage of inverted mugshots intercut to the tune of waterphones, the camera focused on a presenter. She was brandishing a stack of papers, tapping them lightly against her desk and frowning morosely. 

Nines recognised her as Teagan Rodgers—one of the field reporters who had been sculking outside the barricades of the HR400 murder scene.

She was discussing local crime statistics, spoken with such dramatic inflexion it bordered on self-parody. Her artificial seriousness only heightened as she started reading a series of audience prompts.

As Nines tuned in to the presented topic, a flicker of tension locked his jaw, which he deftly smoothed over. However, as a visual accompaniment appeared on the screen behind Rodgers, it became much more challenging to conceal.

"I was recently on-site at one of these gruesome android-targeted scenes, and when asked for comment, this is what the DPD’s finest had to say."

The screen transitioned to a candid shot of Detective Reed outside the Hartwell Apartment complex. Capturing the precise moment he’d lost his temper with the badgering reporter, forcing her microphone away from his face.

The feed then cut back to the studio. Rodgers sat with her arms folded, pressing up the swell of her chest, as her rouged lips pouted disapprovingly.

"And, well, I think that says it all, doesn't it?

The public agrees, with 85% of our viewers suggesting that local law enforcement aren't doing enough to protect this new, vulnerable group. 

With another body having been discovered mere days ago, and police no closer to catching the culprit, we must ask ourselves a serious question: 

Is this post-revolution Detroit truly a safe place for—" 

Rodgers was interrupted mid-sentence as RK800 changed the channel. The segment went undiscussed, but as a streaming service was loaded, Nines could sense the wary glances directed at him. He monitored his reaction, working to project a stoic indifference. His fists clenched in his lap, balled against his jeans, while his face remained expressionless.

RK800 moved on shortly after, navigating to the ‘Romance’ subsection of the platform. He began flicking through a catalogue of nearly identical posters. Attractive men smirked playfully, engaging women who ranged from equally mischievous to endearingly flustered. Occasionally, the suitor was shown giving his potential sweetheart some generic gift—a vibrant floral arrangement or box of chocolates.

All the titles blurred together in their formulaic blandness, making them even harder to differentiate. One broke through the haze, leading Nines to wince at the extent of its saccharine absurdity:

Love, Lattes, and Pumpkin Spice Wishes. 

"Does anything look good to you, Nines?" 

> An impossible choice, RK800, when all options demonstrate such stellar quality.

"I have no preference," he replied flatly, suppressing the more biting musings that bubbled in his throat. He perched stiffly on the couch's edge, leaning towards the roster as he scanned it cursorily. It was a half-hearted attempt to engage in the discussion, albeit with a reluctance to seal his fate.  

RK800 seemed unhappy, deconstructing the manufactured focus with a terse frown on his lips.

"You're the guest; it's only fair you have a say."

Nines considered informing him this would undermine the purpose of the coin flip. If the android wished to include an outside party in the decision-making, he could have spared his housemate the disappointment of defeat.

Not wanting to spark a debate, he instead waved towards the screen. His wrist flopped in limp, disinterested circles. A listing was selected, whichever one RK800 determined the vague motion had directed to. Then came an intermission, marked by a loading wheel spinning on a black screen. 

This was a troubling indication of what was to come—that the agonising 132-minute run time would stretch even longer due to the home’s spotty internet connection.

Eventually, the wheel vanished, and the first title cards began to appear, of which there would be an undoubtedly egregious amount. The screen froze again, this time at the request of RK800. 

He was waiting for Anderson to return, a task the man showed no great urgency in completing. Nines anticipated there might be some form of vocal protest. An insistence that the android should not exercise such ‘thoughtful’ consideration. 

Then, he noted the crisp breeze creeping in from the kitchen. Anderson had slipped outside, and while he understood the reason, Nines amusedly contemplated a more absurd scenario: one in which the burly man nimbly leapt the garden fence, fleeing into the night, never to be seen again.

A faint click of a lighter broke the reverie, bringing him back to reality. He wondered whether RK800 knew that his partner had traded liquor for another—equally contentious—vice.

Surely, he must have, his olfactory receptors more than attuned to detect the scent: potent ash and tobacco molecules that would cling persistently to the fibres of Anderson's worn clothing.

It was a fragrance that was becoming increasingly ubiquitous in Nines’ own life.

As he constructed an image of Anderson—standing on his porch, silently inhaling from his cigarette—the features in his mind began to transform. The imposing bulk diminished as time ticked back by roughly two decades; his silver hair shifted to brown, and his face twisted into a sneer. This expression softened as he took another drag, tilting his head back to allow smoke to drift in lingering coils past the scarred bridge of his nose…

Nines shook his head, rejecting the intrusive projection that had booted onto his HUD. The vision faded, and he found stiff artificial limbs locked into an even more rigid, defensive position.

RK800 also seemed uneasy, though it was unclear why at first. He subtly mirrored the other android's posture as he shifted to the end of the couch, staring blankly at the static screen. His gaze was deeply embedded in the neat cursive of a production logo, trailed with dithering idleness that matched the stuttering yellow pulses on his temple.

It soon occurred to Nines that he wasn't looking at the screen. Instead, his attention had shifted beyond the text, studying the younger android through the reflections cast in the dark backdrop.

Thin lips twitched and finally parted as RK800 prepared to speak to him:

"...So, Nines…" 

The younger android felt an immediate sense of foreboding, further heightening his tension—a resigned acknowledgement of the inevitable conversation ahead.

RK800 intended to initiate small talk.

"How has your week been? Have you made any progress?"

It was a not-so-covert pivot back to the news report. While probing, it was not accusatory, assuring Nines his predecessor knew how misleading or sensationalised such stories could be. 

He found additional solace in the fact that this topic was at least more intellectually engaging than their previous exchanges—ones which had revolved primarily around domestic mundanities. The comparative merits of different cleaning supplies or the frequency of bowel movements observed in an ageing Saint Bernard.

"Our attempts to track the killer's movements have not produced satisfactory results thus far," Nines remarked, aiming to address his companion’s curiosity as succinctly as possible. "The leads we've followed have been either unhelpful or unresponsive, offering little in the way of valuable information. However, we did stumble upon something yesterday that could be significant. We need to analyse it further to determine its credibility."

RK800 shifted in his seat. His previously stiff posture eased in place of curiosity, shoulders settling against the backrest of the couch. Despite this, a hint of disappointment clouded his warm gaze, indicating that Nines might have missed a layer to his question. 

The wish for a more intimate connection: dismissed by a reply that, while informative, rang as impersonal.

Silence resumed between them, a comfort which Nines welcomed graciously. It was only interrupted by a sporadic rustling as Anderson returned to the kitchen. His jittery hands fumbled to close the screen door before pushing it gradually closed in an attempt to stay quiet. This was undermined by Sumo, who lumbered over on heavy paws and barked in greeting. 

RK800 fiddled with the remote, adjusting volume and brightness settings as he pretended not to hear. While the stolen glances at his successor persisted, they decreased in frequency before stopping completely. 

Nines, in turn, settled into emerging security, allowing his racing thoughts to slow in the onset of cognitive rest. By flushing out lingering nuisances clogging his mental channels, he prepared for more in-depth investigative analytics. 

Although he wished he could claim the news report hadn’t affected him, concerns were beginning to blossom. Truthfully, he had not been working as efficiently—or urgently—as he could have been regarding the investigation.

The week had been filled with constant distractions resulting from unwanted supervisory duties. Diverting his focus from primary objectives to less relevant occurrences…

Unexpected emotional and behavioural anomalies observed in his assigned associate, leading to a growing state of contemplation.

He struggled to push past these thoughts, attempting to contain them within a hastily built mental stronghold.

"—and how are things going with Detective Reed?"

The question felt like a nuclear warhead launched directly into the barricade, and Nines almost groaned at the predictability of the assault. Naturally, his predecessor couldn’t leave well enough alone, eager to observe what lay beyond the bounds of his privacy.

Though the younger android understood the concerns which drove such actions, he still found them incredibly frustrating. His brow twitched, and he tried to deflect the intrusive inquiry before any more hits could land:

"As well as you might expect," he said dryly before turning his attention to the television. He scanned the film’s title, feigning interest in the production details presented on his HUD. "Is this not the film we watched last time? About the amnesiac florist who falls in love with her long-lost twin’s brother's former boyfriend?"

"This is the sequel," RK800 responded, undermining the attempted diversion as he continued. "What I mean is, how are you two getting along? Have there been any changes, or just… anything you might want to talk about?"

Another missile hit, further eroding the already crumbling barricade. The hidden reservoir of thoughts stirred with the jolt. A wave surged, spilling over, causing Nines’ brow to bunch tighter.

Anderson's absence became more keenly felt. Nines reflected resentfully on the numerous excuses he might have had to escape his current predicament had he also been human. Be it seeking food, needing the bathroom, or a strategically timed cigarette break. Each small evasion could have added up, increasing the likelihood that his interrogator might lose interest and drop the subject.

As it stood, Nines had no discernible means to escape. Internal pressure mounted, pleading for cathartic release as he grew more susceptible to bow to its influence. 

"I know you’ve been trying to make the most of the situation, and for what it's worth, you’re doing great. I'm so proud of what you’ve achieved, and you should be as well, so please don’t let anyone change that. It is not an easy case, and Gavin is not an easy partner to—" 

RK800’s words trailed off into a growing rumble of noise. Floodwaters raced as his partner exerted himself to the forefront of the compromised dam, pressing against it vigorously. Of the many preoccupations that rushed Nines in the wake of his approach, the most prominent was the events that had recently transpired during their enquiries in Ravendale. 

They had left Nines with enduring questions. Ones that had seared through fraught synapses, leaking out from the mental alcoves he had attempted to tuck them in. A series of damning activity logs, taunting him with their presence—and all implications they carried:

>SYSTEM PROMPT: UPDATE CHARACTER FILE ‘DETECTIVE GAVIN REED ’

> STATUS: CHANGES ACCEPTED. 

"...I hope you don't mind, but I talked with Tina, and she mentioned that you two went out to lunch the other day. I'm glad he’s being reasonable in giving you a chance; with any luck, maybe you two will find some…"

> COMMON GROUND ESTABLISHED. 

The waves charged again, relentless now, having gained an unstoppable momentum. Reed continued to wade at the front, casting reflections in the choppy waves. They were remarkably, inexplicably, clear despite the surrounding turbulence. 

"...He…is not entirely what I expected." 

This admission came too late to avert any repercussions, spilling forth as Nines found himself unable to contain it. 

"Well—that's not entirely accurate. He is exactly what I anticipated…but in a uniquely frustrating way. Much of his behaviour appears exaggerated or falsified, so much that I am not sure even he comprehends the full extent of it."

RK800 hummed thoughtfully, contributing little else but nodding in solidarity. 

"He is not significantly more complex than any other human I've met. The core reasons for his behaviour are clear. Insecurity, resentment, vice. It is simple enough to predict when he might refuse to cooperate or lose his temper. My understanding of that is becoming quite robust. It can be forecasted…but..." 

RK800 remained silent, listening on in attentive sympathy, smiling softly. An open, undemanding gesture. Inviting the other android to proceed at his own pace. Somehow, this proved enough. The cracks spidered through his safeguard erupted into scattered chunks as his deluge of consciousness rushed freely from his mouth:

"He is so much less transparent, honest, than he wishes to suggest. The man is a walking contradiction. Whether or not he chooses to abide by his own convoluted belief system seems entirely random. It is becoming increasingly difficult to predict, or determine, his motivations—" 

Nines’ thoughts were rushing once more. 

The disclosure of familial trauma. The revealing of hidden kindness. His smile, the richness of laughter as he fussed fondly over his cat. The android's swarming internal panic, which ended with Reed's hand buried firmly into a bony torso. 

Then, there was the warmth that this action had inspired in the RK900. Heat which returned now, as his internal body temperature climbed staggeringly.

"—particularly now, after what occurred yesterday."

Finely tuned diplomacy disintegrated as RK800’s logical processes gave way to emotionally driven instincts. He tensed, the rhythmic cycles of his performance indicator broken, as he grew concerned: 

"What happened yesterday?"

As quickly as the thoughts had begun to spiral, they stopped dead—grounded to an abrupt halt. In their waning discordance, Nines grappled to re-establish control. Incentivised by a mixture of frustration towards his predecessor but also a niggling wish to avoid troubling him. 

"Nothing of significance."

"I find that hard to believe…"  Connor gives him an all-too-familiar look of doubt. As always, however, this was the point when he stepped back, understanding that prying further would only be met with resistance. Lips pursed contemplatively before he spoke again. "You know we can talk about anything , right? I’m always there if you need it."

"There is nothing further I wish to discuss."

RK800 sighed, the dejected sound masked as a synthetic breath, before he pulled up his shoulders and responded brightly. 

"Well, if you ever want to—if you change your mind—I'm happy to listen." He paused, holding up his palm, skin unsheathed in a tentative offering. "...We could always—if it would make things easier—"

"That would also be unnecessary." Nines denied the interface, his own hands remaining firmly stationary in his lap. "I assure you that your concern is unwarranted. I am fine. Thank you, RK800." 

Following the uncomfortable encounter, the RK900 considered departing early—fabricating some excuse, albeit with his limited options. Perhaps under the guise of feeding the neighbourhood strays, although he knew, with confidence, he had left sufficient provisions in the dishes outside.

By the time more genuine contemplation was underway, however, Anderson had returned—and any hopes for escape were thwarted. 

Sumo trailed after him, tail swinging in slow, sluggish strokes before his large eyes met Nines. The bushy appendage wagged faster, with increased enthusiasm, as his tongue lopped out in excited pants—as though he'd somehow forgotten the RK was visiting. 

He plodded over to the couch, lumbering his ample weight onto it, sandwiching himself contently between the two androids. He partially overlapped each, with his head plopped affably on the RK800’s lap, while Nines was subjected to a less agreeable hold of thumping tail and hindlegs. He supposed, at the very least, there was less chance of being saturated by drool.

With his pet having laid claim on his spot, Anderson instead relegated himself to a nearby armchair. Flopping into it with a laboured grunt, he cracked open the soda that he had eventually retrieved from his fridge and took a liberal swig. 

The movie commenced shortly after, and it didn't take long to transpire that it would be impressively dull—even by usual standards. An inordinate amount of the opening sequence seemed dedicated to showcasing what the main character intended to wear for the day. After the third or fourth rotation of skirts, and the encouragement of a full-figured roommate who Nines assumed would play as comic relief, the leading lady dashed from her impressively large apartment, ready to head into work.

Several mishaps ensued, including one of her heels being lost to a wad of chewing gum and almost toppling headfirst into a hot dog cart. It surpassed the realm of charming clumsiness, as it became clear the woman posed a serious threat to both herself and others.

Nines could feel his attention wane fast. His optical units lost focus, his eyelids stooped, cognition breaking into waves of static. Fortunately, whilst he struggled in numerous interpersonal aspects, he had somewhat mastered the art of feigning engagement in the abysmal films—with such proficiency that even the advanced deductive protocols of his counterpart failed to detect it.

Anderson was not so mannerly. By the time the poorly coordinated heroine had wrangled her way into a cab, previously meticulously styled hair full of leaves and twigs, he had fallen asleep. Head lolled back, mouth agape as he snored thunderously.

After a few more minutes enduring the endless cycle of empty dialogue and contrived plot beats masquerading as storytelling, Nines determined he had allowed himself sufficient rest. With the other android placated, suitably engrossed, he invested the replenished energy into examining his case files. Specifically, reviewing the most recently inputted item of evidence: Mr Scott's phone.

It had been evident from the store owner's sketchy behaviour that he had been concealing some well of greater knowledge. A link undoubtedly existed between him and their suspect. There was obstinance, petty defiance, and then the arduous lengths Scott had attempted to protect his affiliate. He had seemed worried—almost fearful. As though dreading some unspoken ramifications should he fail to uphold his lies.

However, there was only so far his primitive mental capacity could take him. While their killer was unlikely to be so careless, Scott had demonstrated himself as a man unable, or otherwise unwilling, to uphold satisfactory standards of data protection and security.

Nines hoped it would not take long to uncover the scuffed footprints he had left behind, trails that may lead them to their culprit.

And so, the android submerged himself—plunging deep into yet another odious pit. Except, unlike with the movie, the offense of this one was far less benign. This time, he exchanged dull vacancy for something far more insidious: hateful abhorrence and vile obscenity.

Chat logs ran thick with bilious sewage that proved deeply unpleasant to wade through. The majority hinged on uncouth anecdotes pertaining to minority groups. There would be the occasional tasteless image—grotesque caricatures, captioned with vicious and demeaning phrases.

Despite the unpleasantness, there was nothing especially incriminating. Nothing to suggest explicit involvement in illegal activity. His online activity, however, proved significantly more damning.

Scott's browser was riddled with searches for illegitimate stock providers. These distributors dealt in counterfeit electronics—devices billed as indistinguishable from their branded counterparts. Legal mandates for returns policies, and how little flexibility could be applied, also featured heavily.

Then, activity veered into more immediately relevant offences. The man had a penchant for harassing public figures—primarily those involved in the android liberation movement.

He was not alone in this endeavour. Nines soon identified the same names, appearing repeatedly, spread like a disease through the digital space. Scott seemed to have aligned himself with a particularly vitriolic subsect, seen in his consistent approval of their comments.

In the profile summaries, the RK identified several patterns. Hidden in bios, birthdays, taglines—innocuous to those who did not know what they were looking at, but immediately identifiable to those who did.

Dog whistles—phrases like ‘people first' or 'organic supremacy', hastily buried under codes and acronyms—aligning Scott with a more extremist, radicalised movement. One that sought to violently eradicate the newly acquired rights of androids, restoring human dominance by any means necessary.

Tucked into one of these user bios was a condensed URL. Upon clicking, he was directed to an unmarked landing page, protected by a password encryption system. The address comprised a series of random numerations, with no information to identify its purpose—just a vacant text bar, suspended forebodingly on a blank screen.

Not wishing to risk compromise from an unforeseen security protocol, Nines utilised the code from Scott's phone to simulate a replica within his own system. With a spoofed IP, along with the man's browsing data and saved passwords, the android soon confirmed that the man had been here before—on numerous occasions.

Following input of the authorisation now previewed in the login screen, Nines was permitted access to the site. A header flashed onto his HUD, alongside a manifesto, forecasting in disquieting detail what he was about to unveil:

> ‘The Fleshbound Brotherhood’

> DUST FROM EARTH, BREATH IN LUNGS.

> PBMA ATFFXK BG ATGW, PX UKXTD MH IBXVXL MABL ZHWEXLL GTMBHG.

It was a forum, with hundreds of discussion threads materialising concurrently. Titles ranged from the benignly malicious to the criminally obscene. Within them, he found detailed recounts of imagined, intended, and perpetrated violence.

As Nines searched deeper, he was dismayed to discover that many discussions did not stop at text. There was visual accompaniment, images depicting abuse and mutilation of grotesquely brutal proportions. It splintered his focus, accosting his optics in a shattered mosaic of white and blue.

Then his attention was divided further. There was a shift on the couch, and he glanced at RK800, assessing whether or not he had detected the signs of his heightened distress. The older android remained none the wiser, and had simply been readjusting, fully engrossed in the television as he stroked the top of Sumo’s head.

With the security to continue, Nines did so, plunging deeper into the wells of depravity. He sank, inked in black, until he found something that twisted his stomach unbearably.

A snapshot of a scene that rang hauntingly familiar. One that should not have been accessible, having never been released to the broader public.

> ANALYSING SUBJECT…

> SUBJECT IDENTIFIED.

> MODEL: MJ100 #1105 180 903 — DESIGNATION: ‘JENNY’

He realised that this offered no tangible proof. The forensics team had not submitted their report. There was a chance that the department had succumbed to a data leak, with the photograph scalped by a twisted admirer of the killer's actions. It was possible the department had fallen prey to a data leak, the image scalped by some sadistic admirer of the killer's work.

Yet, there remained the possibility that it wasn’t—that it had been captured in real time, from the viewpoint of the perpetrator.

They had already seen in the case on the HR400 that he was not opposed to documenting his work in this way. The RK speculated it accounted for little more than another keepsake—a cruel trophy overshadowed by the more boast-worthy accolades of harvested biocomponents.

Nines felt anger. A potent, all-consuming frustration. He had located the killer, appearing in his visual scope like a vengeful spectre. He could almost reach out, feeling the remnants of his movements with his fingertips, while the man cowardly concealed himself behind a veil of digital anonymity.

Indeed, all posting on the site was anonymous. Identifiers were procedurally generated, with no consistency of username. Despite this, there was no difficulty in identifying Scott. The same unique typing errors had carried over from private messages and his public terrorising.

A specific instance grabbed his attention while he was browsing the page. A notification in the corner indicated it was a new comment. The RK900 examined it closely, zoning in on the letters, picking them apart with meticulous scrutiny:

> bacon at cedars + me. organic and synth

It was a code—though not a particularly complex one. Upon deciphering, it seemed clear that the subjects being discussed were ones with which Nines had intimate acquaintance.

A reply followed, in rapid succession to the initial message:

> > what did they want?

This was preceded by a second comment—another searing blow to the face, the sting of its mockery lingering.

> > > Tlla ha JSOX. ZS J—

—She doesn't want to see you, Davis! Get out of here before I make you.

Nines paused, perplexed by this additional detail, as he attempted to interpret its meaning. Setting the code aside for the moment, his deductive systems searched autonomously for a ‘Davis’—assessing whether the name had appeared earlier in their investigation, and what significance it might hold.

"You broke my fucking nose, you asshole!"

He then dawned that this specific thread had come from the television.

The dual clash of flesh and bone was identified, a theory validated by the terse yelp of pain that followed. His focus was shattered, and the forum receded into the digital obscurity from which it had emerged. Nines was back in the living room. Awake, alert, and left to ponder if RK800 had conceded his victory, allowing Anderson to switch the movie.

He had not. Upon examining the scene more closely, the android recognised the same key players. The leading lady was on the sidewalk outside her apartment complex, eyes wide with shock and hands clasped firmly to her mouth. Behind her, a group of people—led by her roommate—gathered closely. They reacted with much more joyful enthusiasm, cheering loudly and pumping fists excitedly into the air, to a fight happening in the street.

Nines identified one of the fighters as the lead's romantic partner from the last film. Davis, an ambitious CEO with whom she had shared a fulfilling romance. Clearly, something had shifted since then, but he was at a loss to discern what.

He lunged at his opponent again, incited by a chorus of cheers. Davis staggered back, stunned, following another blow. Turning to the lead for aid, he extended his lightly blood-spattered palm, which she gazed at—visibly horrified.

"Come on, Stacey. I know I messed up, but she didn't mean anything to me. Let’s go upstairs, and I'll make it up to you. What do you say?"

Her horrified expression then shifted into muted melancholy, as if she were suddenly lost in thought. The camera cut rapidly between Stacey and the men brawling for her affections. Artificial tension was heightened by a melodramatic orchestral sweep that began to swell in the background.

Then, it faded, and she turned away. Her eyes closed, she shook her head with quiet resolve.

"I'm sorry, Davis, but I don’t think that’s enough for me anymore."

The friends erupted into scandalised gasps, along with RK800, who leaned so far forward that he risked toppling off the couch. Even Anderson appeared engaged, having woken up at some undisclosed point, tuned in keenly to the telenovela-grade escapades.

"...Oh, I see. Too scared to finish things, so you'll have your new boyfriend do it for you?"

David advanced towards his ex-partner. The sting of rejection had transformed him into a distorted caricature of his already ill-defined character, the framing and score presenting an absurd, cartoonish antagonist.

His romantic rival responded quickly. Forming a protective blockade in front of Stacey, his eyes narrowed menacingly. A hand was then planted into the other man's sternum, and he shoved him back.

"Kick his ass, Jerry!"

"Yeah, Jerry..." Anderson muttered, chuckling softly to himself. "Show this kid who he's fucking with."

Nines was also strangely captivated, although not due to any infatuation with the rising violence. Instead, his curiosity stemmed from more… elusive reasons.

He couldn't pinpoint the cause, but he found himself leaning closer to the flickering screen—seeing past the poorly scripted characters and dialogue, as his mind constructed a more compelling narrative.

Whilst the scenario didn’t precisely mirror his personal experiences, his internal imaging adapted to the available details. As Jerry pushed again, his features changed—not as classically handsome, but with an indisputable, rugged appeal. The shrinking woman behind him vanished, supplanted by a more formidable presence.

Davis’ transformation was the most striking. His defined features sagged, melting like wax from his face, mirroring the decay of his body. His disdainful comments shifted from the trivial grievances of a rejected lover to something far more sinister:

"Seems like your own kind doesn't even want you."

"Do us—favour—go back—came from—"

"That's enough."

It was at this point, when the scene had fully transformed, that realisation struck him. A rock propelled through a fragile windowpane. Nines reeled in embarrassment, forcefully dismissing the projection, and blocking the intrusive neural pathways that had inspired it.

He silently cursed RK800 for contributing to this lapse. Undoubtedly, the result of fatigue that had amassed over the week, exacerbated by the prying.

Mental strongholds would prove challenging to re-establish, now that Reed had fully breached their containment, meandering freely around his mind. For now, all Nines could do was ponder the injustice.

He was used to his mind betraying him—thrusting relocations onto him unwillingly, formed as weapons—but it had never occurred in such a profoundly degrading way.

He despaired to think what psychosomatic implications a human might draw from the event, before reminding himself he could not afford to become blindsided by such preoccupations.

The advent of Reed had already derailed enough of his professional undertakings. Nines, swiftly and resolutely, decided that he would not allow this oddity to impact his duties further.

Nines would set aside considerations of unanticipated kindness and compassion—as well as the strange endearment they inspired.

He would not, under any circumstances, dwell on this topic again.

[chukys-mouthguard]

i feel like this is so specific but can you do something angsty (maybe with a happy ending) based on the ending of white ferrari by frank ocean? with mtkachuk 😁

white ferrari

2k words

genre: angst

featuring: matthew tkachuk x female reader

note: i tried something new with this, green light indicates present day, red light indicates a flash back

green light

The lull of the engine filled the car as Matthew continued on the road. No destination in sight as he watched the scenery pass by his window. Attempting to clear his head but all he could think about was you.

Your entire relationship replaying in his head, making him question how the two of you ended up here.

red light

“Oh Matt, I gotta introduce you to Emma’s friend that she invited. I really think the two of you will hit it off!”

Brady shot Matthew a quick wink before pulling him over towards you and his girlfriend. Matt reluctantly followed, knowing that in the past Brady hasn’t always been the best wing man. But the moment he saw you, he had to try his best to act cool. Despite inside feeling like a nervous wreck.

“Matt, this is Emma’s friend y/n. Y/n, this is the less handsome Tkachuk brother, Matt.”

Matthew rolled his eyes with a chuckle as he extended a hand to you, immediately noticing the soft touch of your skin as you accepted. He felt himself lingering a bit too long, though you didn’t seem to pull away. A smile on your lips as he saw a slight blush beginning to appear on your skin.

“Pleasure to meet you y/n.”

green light

He’d never forget that day. The two of you ended up talking for hours, and he’d never been so thankful for his brother playing wingman.

Who would’ve thought that day would’ve turned into four years, a relationship that had been seemingly perfect. You’d followed Matthew to Calgary, and then to Florida after being traded. His biggest fan though plenty of ups and downs in his career. But also the only one who could keep him in check, and talk him down when he’d gotten a little cocky or full of himself. He’d never met a girl like you, and he knew he never would again.

The two of you having talked about a future, marriage and kids, the whole nine yards. The idea of seeing you as a mother one that Matthew had thought about for over a year now. Knowing you’d be the perfect mother from how you cared for him. You were patient, understanding, loving, everything he would ever ask of you to be.

red light

Matthew winced as you touched the alcohol soaked cotton pad to his brow, cleaning the cut he’d earned in a scrum during tonight’s game.

“You okay?”

He nodded as he simply replied mhmm, allowing you to continue as he glanced up at you. Watching as you took your time, trying your best to be gentle. A smirk coming across his lips while you felt his eyes on you, tracking your every move.

“What?”

Stopping as you felt yourself beginning to blush, he simply shook his head. Smiling at the ground as you packed up the first aid kit.

“Nothing, I just. I’m thinking about what an amazing mother you’re gonna be one day.”

His words caught you off guard, eyes wide as you laughed. “Me? What? You’re thinking about that, really?”

“Of course I am!” He stood up as he checked his brow in the mirror, admiring your patchwork. “You’re so fucking good to me, always. I can’t help but think about how perfect you’d be as a mother.”

He wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder as he looked at you in the mirror. Kissing your cheek as you shyly smiled back.

“You think I’d be a good mom?”

“Oh the absolute best mom babe! In fact,”

Matthew quickly picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder as you playfully screamed and fought against his grip. “I think we should start trying to make you a mom right now!”

green light

He remembers the struggles you’d had getting pregnant. The highs and lows of all the false positives, and true negatives. But he knew you to always be a fighter and push through. So he never expected the day that you’d take all those things back and say you didn’t want the marriage and the kids. No more dreams of packing orange slices for soccer games, and back to school shopping.

It broke his heart, to know you had lost all want for those things. Things the two of you shared for so long. He never meant to push them onto you, and if he did he regretted it, because it meant losing you.

The fights had become more frequent. Matthew not sure what he’d done to push you away from him. He’d tried everything; therapy, vacations, anything to bring the love back. He thought maybe it was him, that he needed to change. But no matter what he did, you’d checked out.

red light

Rolling over in bed, Matt woke up to the feeling of cold sheets next to him. Opening his eyes to find you weren’t next to him. The soft glow of the tv coming from the down the hall giving away your location.

Pulling on a tshirt he made his way to the living room, seeing you curled up on the couch. This had become a frequent occurrence with you; moving to the couch when you couldn’t sleep, then passing out after watching 1 or 2 episodes of trashy tv.

He turned the tv off, sitting next to you on the couch as he brushed some hair from face. His thumb resting on your cheek as he traced your features. Soon a soft groan coming from you as you stretched, eyes fluttering open to look at him.

“Baby, let’s go to bed.”

Pulling the blanket over your head, you attempted to go back to sleep. Not in the mood for one of Matthew’s ‘baby’ conversation starters. You knew he missed having you next to him when he went to bed, then waking up to you in the mornings. It wasn’t that you enjoyed treating him this way, you did still love him. But how do you love someone me not want a future with them at the same time.

The countless efforts to try and get things back to how they once were, all failed as your heart was no longer in it. But you saw the way he looked at you, how he longed for the old you. The you that wanted kids and marriage. The you that was now long gone.

It was Matthew that kept you going, kept you willing to try for a baby after numerous false hopes. Kept you talking about wedding plans despite you knowing inside the ideas would never become reality. Because you had given up hope for those things to become your reality with Matthew.

“Y/n, please. I miss you. I miss us. You keep shutting me out and I don’t know what to do anymore to fix this.”

“Maybe there’s no fixing this Matt!”

Matt jumped as your voice echoed throughout the room. Though you didn’t mean to snap, you had let so much frustration build up and to be blunt, you were tired of trying to make things work when it was clear they couldn’t and wouldn’t.

“Have you not once thought that maybe there’s no fixing us? How many therapy sessions, couples trips, all of that bullshit will it take until you realize this isn’t working anymore? I don’t want the wedding, the kids. I mean after countless failed attempts at having kids, I’m fucking tired of it. The disappointment, feeling like I’m the problem. I can’t give you what you want!”

“Baby-“ Matt tried to take your hand and calm you down but you pulled away.

“No, stop. Stop the baby this, baby that. You need to wake up and see that I’m done. I’m done trying to be something I’m not for you. I’m done, we’re done.”

green light

The words still echoing in his head as if it was yesterday, the pain never subsiding as he knew he’d never find another girl like you. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

He never imagined a future without you, and maybe that was his fault for not seeing things from your perspective. You two had become so comfortable in the routine that he’d neglected to see how unhappy you were. To see the signs of you slowly pulling away from him. His focus on the future and not the present.

He missed you like crazy, and could only hope that the universe would bring you back together. But he didn’t get his hopes up for that.

As he pulled into a familiar parking lot, overlooking the water, one of your favorite spots to go together, he couldn’t help but get emotional. The two of you always drove here when you had a bad day, or an argument. It was your place to clear your heads and reset.

No surprise his subconscious led him here.

Pulling out his phone, he scrolled until he saw your name, knowing it was a long shot for you to answer. But he needed to hear your voice, it still being the only thing that could calm him down or talk him off the ledge when he was spiraling.

“Hello?”

You’d picked up on the second ring and he was a bit shocked, silence filling his car as he forgot to speak.

“Matthew…hello?”

“Sorry, I, I was surprised you picked up. How are you?”

Your laugh brought a smile to his face, god he missed the sound. “I’ve been better.”

“Same here, I, I’m at our spot. Didn’t plan on coming here but, I was having a rough day. Guess muscle memory brought me here.”

His voice was laced with nerves as he spoke, unsure whether or not you’d cut him short or actually talk to him.

“Yeah, I’ve been going there a bit lately too. Life’s, been interesting I guess.”

“Yeah…”

The call continued with you both sitting in silence, Matt unsure whether or not he should be honest with you, knowing you’d probably shoot him down. But he couldn’t lie to you, he never was one to do that.

“Y/n, I have to be honest. I fucking miss you. And, I love you so much. I, I know things won’t be the same. We don’t want the same things anymore. I just, I need you to know it’s always been you. It’ll always be you.”

His heart beating out of his chest as he impatiently waited for you to say something, anything.

“I know, I love you too. But, it’s just, it’s not going to work. I’ve reflected on everything and, I was trying so hard to give you everything you wanted, I lost myself. I lost sight of what mattered to me and what I wanted. What I needed. You know I never meant to hurt you the way I did. But, I meant it when I said there’s no fixing us.”

He nodded his head as you spoke, expecting that answer but the pain still came with each word. He tried laughing it off, as if he was fully anticipating your response. But deep down he’d hoped that time apart would somehow be the missing piece.

“Yeah, I know. I just, I gotta remind you any chance I get. I love you y/n.”

“Love you too Matthew.”

The line went dead as you’d hung up, Matthew taking a deep breath as he tried his best to accept the fact that you were gone. That this time, he’d have to accept that there was no chance at fixing things.

He enjoyed the view a bit longer, watching the water settling his emotions before he headed back onto the road. The lull of the car the only sound once again, as he tried his best to abandoned all thoughts of you.

green light

[481mclarg]

Scared to love you | AL65

★ I've never been good at telling people how I feel, but you make me want to try.

STLY       •       FANFIC + SMAU

      • Arthur Leclerc x Male!Oc Driver

Warning: —

★          introduction. | one. | two. | three. | four. | five. | six. | seven. | eight. | nine. | ten. | eleven. | twelve. | thirteen. | fourteen. | fifteen. | sixteen. |

[ 📱 ] Text. 29 Nov. 2024

[ 💻 ] GOOGLE NEWS. 2 Dec. 2025.

[BREAKING] Matteo Lombardi becomes the first queer driver on the F1 grid.

Although Formula 1 has had queer drivers in its history, as was the case with Mike Beuttler, Mário de Araújo Cabral, Lella Lombardi, and the most recent, Ralf Schumacher, Matteo became the first active driver on the grid to openly declare himself bisexual.

«As a team, we will work tirelessly to guarantee the safety of our drivers - with a focus on Lombardi - on each of the dates on the calendar, as we always did» declared the team in a statement expressing their support for the Italian driver.

«I know that not everyone is going to accept it, it's not what I expect either. I just want to live my life, share with whoever I want, and be judged only by what I do on the track» added the driver through a post on his X account (formerly Twitter), in response to the first negative comments that came to him. «I have the support of my colleagues, my friends, my team... The people who are special to me. That's all that matters to me»

With more and more famous personalities showing their support for different communities, prejudice is becoming less and less, and the road to the top for young queers no longer has those unnecessary bumps that others do not have.

There is no doubt that societies are changing, and sport is evolving, adapting to it. Fewer and fewer athletes are afraid to express themselves and live freely, raising their voices and helping more people take the courage to follow their example.

«It takes enormous courage to show your true self instead of hiding behind a facade based on what people expect» Sebastian Vettel once said. His words remain more relevant than ever.

[ 💻 ]          .                  .                    .

How will Ferrari face the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix?

With the United Arab Emirates known for its hostility and lack of acceptance for members of the LGBTQ+ community, how is Ferrari going to resolve Lombardi's stay?

Although Lombardi's low profile regarding his life helps prevent rejection of the Italian's arrival in the country's capital, the team assured that it would remain aware of the well-being of each of its members, maintaining that they were all equal regardless of their job, family, ethnicity, country of origin, religion or sexual orientation.

[ 💻 ]          .                    .                    .

Scuderia Ferrari HP: @/Charles_leclerc and @/arthur_leclerc7 will be taking part in Friday's FP1 season as team-mates. You won't want to miss this 🤩

481MCLARG | 08 . 02 . 2025 | CORREGIDO

[covid-safer-hotties]

The Invisible Damage: How COVID Rewires Our Brains - Published Aug 20, 2024

University of Colorado Boulder scientists have discovered that proteins left by COVID-19 can significantly lower cortisol levels in the brain, leading to heightened immune responses to new stressors.

This research, focusing on the neurological symptoms of Long COVID, utilized rats to demonstrate how SARS-CoV-2 antigens persist in the body and alter brain function. This persistent effect could explain the severe and varied symptoms of Long COVID, suggesting potential directions for further research and symptom management strategies.

Understanding COVID-19’s Long-term Impact on the Brain Proteins left behind by COVID-19 long after initial infection can cause cortisol levels in the brain to plummet, inflame the nervous system, and prime its immune cells to hyper-react when another stressor arises, according to new animal research by University of Colorado Boulder scientists.

The study, published in the journal Brain Behavior and Immunity, sheds new light on what might underly the neurological symptoms of Long COVID, an intractable syndrome which impacts as many as 35% of those infected with the virus.

The findings come as COVID makes a striking summer comeback, with cases rising in 84 countries and numerous high-profile athletes at the Paris Olympics testing positive.

Cortisol’s Role in Long COVID Symptoms “Our study suggests that low cortisol could be playing a key role in driving many of these physiological changes that people are experiencing with Long COVID,” said lead author Matthew Frank, PhD, a senior research associate with the Department of Psychology and Neuroscience at CU Boulder.

Previous research has shown that SARS-CoV-2 antigens, immune-stimulating proteins shed by the virus that causes COVID-19, linger in the bloodstream of Long COVID patients as much as a year after infection. They’ve also been detected in the brains of COVID patients who have died.

To explore just how such antigens impact the brain and nervous system, the research team injected an antigen called S1 (a subunit of the “spike” protein) into the spinal fluid of rats and compared them to a control group.

Cortisol Reduction and Its Consequences After 7 days, in rats exposed to S1, levels of the cortisol-like hormone corticosterone plummeted by 31% in the hippocampus, the region of the brain associated with memory, decision making, and learning. After 9 days, levels were down 37%.

“Nine days is a long time in the life span of a rat,” said Frank, noting that rats live on average for two to three years.

He notes that cortisol is a critical anti-inflammatory, helps convert fuel into energy and is important for regulating blood pressure and the sleep-wake cycle and keeping the immune response to infection in check. One recent study showed that people with Long COVID tend to have low cortisol levels. So do people with chronic fatigue syndrome, research shows.

“Cortisol has so many beneficial properties that if it is reduced it can have a host of negative consequences,” said Frank.

Read the rest and get a link to the (paywalled) study at either link!

[bugju1c3]

moment from a skizz stream that made me laugh , he was adjusting grians volume and gem noticed hers...

clip in question under the cut ^_^

Transcript:

Grian: Hello. Put me at normal, put me normal, I'm normal now. You did have me quite low.

Gem: You have me at negative forty-nine? Do you hate me? Why am I at negative forty-nine? Nobody ever has me in the negatives!

Grian: Normal normal normal hello hello test test test test test

Skizz: Everybody, is Gem quiet? You sound great!

[felonytaxevasion]

For the record here are my other Undersider drunken karaoke night picks I think about this situation a normal amount (lie)

Round 1 - No One Has Added Underage Drinking To Their Daily Crime Journal Yet

Lisa - Lisa starts everyone off with California Girls because she is, in her heart, A California Girl She's Undeniable Daisy Dukes Bikinis on Top. Lisa is probably the closest thing the Undersiders have to a good singer but she's totally hamming it up here to break the ice in hopes Taylor will participate

Aisha - Every single Rihanna album has gone platinum in Aisha Laborn's bedroom and she will take any opportunity to make this fact known. I think she would pick Only Girl In The World because Aisha really feels like Rihanna made that one just for her specifically. Not a singer with technical expertise but she brings the most passion and joy to her performances

Brian - As stated in an earlier post he picks Bruno Mars Beautiful Girls All Over The World, possibly Just The Way You Are. He did not pick them to serenade Taylor specifically but at one point he does make eye contact with Taylor during the chorus and it embarrasses them both. Aisha pretends to vomit.

Alec - picks the exact same song as Brian and does it worse in every way. Intentionally makes eye contact with each of the Undersiders making sure to really draw out Brian's turn

Taylor - Peer pressured enough to participate but not enough to choose a song she actually likes and listens to in fear of being judged. She performs Fireflies by Owl City with real fireflies and it's equal parts charming and horrifying. Lisa cheers too loudly and Alec hides behind Brian and Rachel from the bugs. Taylor vows to never perform at karaoke again

Rachel - refuses to participate

Round 2 - Everyone is Slightly Tipsy

Lisa - Lisa performs Girls Just Want To Have Fun and gets really into it. She only hits half of the high notes but she tries really hard to hit all of them. It's the closest thing to an impressive performance any of them achieve all night

Brian - cuts in front of Aisha to perform Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Performs all nine minutes even while Aisha boos him and also sings the guitar solos. Experiences joy and whimsy for the first time in months

Aisha - Don't Trust Me by 3OH3. While singing the line "I'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him" she gets too excited and flings a bracelet off knocking a glass off a table and shattering it. This does not slow her performance for even a second

Alec - Friday by Rebecca Black. Very pleased with the negative reaction this inspires. Aisha tries to chase him off the stage and the latter half of the song is just them wrestling for the microphone

Taylor and Rachel decline to participate and instead sit in the corner and whisper gay things the whole round

Round 3 - Completely Lost In The Sauce Wasted

Lisa - Incredibly Solemn and Serious rendition of Video Games by Lana Del Rey. Alec dims the lights and everyone sans Rachel wave their cellphone flashlights for her

Alec - Alec has spent the entire night lying and telling Aisha he can sing all the words to Rap God by Eminem. He messes up the words in the first verse immediately. Laughs through the rest of the performance and accidentally makes up a new word that becomes he and Aisha's new terrible "inside joke" they insist on saying every five minutes for the next month

Brian - Low by Flo Rida. Does a whole dance routine to go along with it. Everyone except Aisha has a GREAT time

Aisha - Super Bass by Nicki Minaj. High off the excitement of his last performance Brian performs along and completely steals the show. This leads to the first bout of drunken crying (Aisha. Immediately followed by Brian) followed by drunken declarations of love and affirmation

Eventually the affirmations lead to Taylor agreeing to singing one more song so long as every Undersider individually promises her they won't make fun of her. She picks This Is War by Thirty Seconds to Mars because she is a terrible angsty teenager in 2011 and she sings it very badly. Everyone stills cheers for her though and it is a very good finale

On the way home they get Rachel to agree to do the barks if the rest of them sing Who Let The Dogs Out acapella. This footage is captured by street cams and the footage of the teenage warlords walking down the street barking is presented as a "twisted intimidation tactic" by the PRT for the next three years

[hoiststowline]

winter of our youth

misstep nine first _ prev

While feeling particularly reprehensible about it, Magnus studies your conflicted expression through the rearview mirror, attempting to keep his concentration mostly on the road ahead, though it was now disproportionally split. The casual conversation did not come easy to him, not within any grander scope, so multitasking in keeping your spirits high whilst conversing nonchalantly was becoming rather challenging. You’d become so unnaturally quiet, fingers thrumming against the leather of the steering wheel now and then, before slumping back into the seat, eyes trained on the fleeting cars through the windshield.

About three hours ago, you had spiraled into tangents of your life, groaning about work while explaining your ambitions and obstinate passions. Magnus had listened intently, only giving his input when you’d pause as if waiting for such, not feeling as if you were running your mouth for the majority. Momentarily, he finds himself jealous of your overall untroubled and lighthearted stories, laughter a response that comes so freely to you and not without repercussions. However, nothing is without sacrifice, as his discontent was highly misplaced, some of your retelling veering off into dips of depression and being unjustly blind-sighted by so-called companions. You did not divulge much, hardly scratching the surface, unable to uproot twenty-something years of living, doing a quick right turn when sentences turned too negative, but they were there in the open, nonetheless.

You were not without your struggles or flaws, but your troughs only created a level of respect, something not so easily earned from him. He decides he enjoys hearing your positions and outlooks on life, wildly but silently impressed by how you articulate emotions, a circumstance that does not come as effortlessly to him. Lost in his observations, he is startled by your jolt, jumping slightly in the seat as something catches your attention.

A gasp escapes you, and a gleeful twinge associates alongside it, causing a halt to his recollection. “You have a radio?” You whisper, fingers reaching to spin the dial, but pause in the air mid-action as if unsure.

“It is functional,” Magnus muses, increasing the volume while wondering how you’d never noticed it before, your intense observation skills partial to get you into trouble. “If you would like, I can-”

He doesn’t get to finish, but he doesn’t predominantly want to, cooling fans kicking on but masked by the stereo, infatuated at how satisfied you’ve become at the drop of a dime. A quick search finds that the song is from the nineteen eighties, instantly relaxing your frame as you sit back in the seat once more, content. You apparently admire the song, only halting your low humming to inquire if he could crack the window a tad, but he rolls it down in its entirety, understanding your timid request.

“Bummer this didn’t win,” You laugh, but he doesn’t initially understand the jest, taking it for face value in a mutual retrospect. “Thank you,”

He makes a noise of acknowledgment but doesn’t so forwardly scheme to carry on the exchange.

His erroneous envy finally reveals itself in how you wear your emotions on your sleeve but allow yourself moments like these to find happiness in the stubbornness of life. Even if you don’t want to, you rest things to the side when they are not the immediate concern, living presently even if things weigh heavy on your conscious.

You trusted him, gave up so much for someone because they needed assistance, and all he could do was stand dumbfounded by your generosity. Of course, there were times he’s certainly tried your patience, skimmed the line of being overwrought- well deserving your cold shoulder initially. But you had planned for that evening to end in parted ways, and somehow, he’s wrangled you into this journey, asking far too much of you once more.

You’re blissfully murmuring, hair tangled by the unmanageable wind from the newly opened window, one hand cradling the bottom of the steering wheel once more. You’re choosing your next words carefully, hand-picking each one so as to not create an uproar, though he’s confident nothing you could say would make him cross.

“What will you do?” Innocent, skating on the edge of sadness, as if you didn’t wish to truly hear the answer. “I mean, what will you do when you find your team?”

“Assist them in finding and then furthermore, subduing the enemy,” It’s almost a matter of fact, as if he knows such to be securely true.

An unforeseen dryness overtakes your mouth, fumbling to find a good enough reply. “Right.”

“Did you expect a different response?” He tries, not wishing to test your patience, but finds he is doing so regardless.

“No, not really.” You had expected it in fact, but didn’t necessarily want the specific counter in return. “I mean, that’s all you’ve talked about. I don’t know why I asked.”

Magnus knows why you did, at least subconsciously, wondering where this route would leave you when he no longer required assistance navigating the terrain. He isn’t even sure as to why he implored you to take this journey alongside him, convincing himself that it was for procedure purposes, but somewhere nagged that is was for a grander reason, perhaps self-assurance that he wouldn’t lose his mind if you were there.

He wastes a minute too long trying to concoct a sentence to console you, stumbling over selfish explanations before he’s lost, yourself pushing the conversation forward. “I take you for a books kind of guy,” Spoken benevolently, not as a jab or joke.

“Pardon?” He rasps, perplexed by your sudden left turn.

“The music,” You point to the radio, noticing how he had almost unwittingly turned it off, only louder beats could be heard amongst your words. If he wasn’t driving, he’d likely have paused, silently impressed still by your exploration of context clues, without even analyzing it that deeply. “Maybe you like…your version of it, but if I were to guess, I think you prefer books anyway.”

“You would be correct,” The volume increases ever so slightly, allowing you to better hear the tune, but him as well. “Spare time does not come often, but I enjoy reading in the few cycles I am granted every now and then,”

He observes your smile, seemingly impressed that you have speculated correctly. “Y’know, you’re pretty predictable for being so cautious.”

That catches him unprepared, mirror tilting rather erratically your way in vast disbelief. “What?” Magnus gambles, losing his professionality for a distracted moment to try and decipher your reflection, unsure whether to be impressed or offended.

Predictable is the last word he’d ever use to describe himself, finding it strenuous to even uphold the façade he had so carefully crafted that nobody could fathom his next move even if they tried. He was tactical, a strategic piece among the never-ending chess board, and-

But you weren’t talking about that.

“Maybe we’re more alike than I initially thought,” You ponder aloud, and he’s unconfident if he’s meant to hear it or not. “There’s a bunch I don’t know, but still.”

“I’m afraid I do not follow, y/n.” A flat lie, and perhaps you’d see right through it, but did not feel resilient enough to hear you explain such a precise reasoning any further.

With a soft sigh, you relent. “That’s okay, you don’t have to.”

Not even a third of the way into the journey, Magnus takes immediate notice as your eyes begin to grow heavy, fighting restlessly to stay awake and vigilant. More hours had trickled by at this stage, some exchanges here and there about the crossing of state lines or highway exits, but much of the ride dawdled in silence. It was a comfortable quiet, not awkward least to him, but when he wished for more, he couldn’t scrounge up a single thing to say.

You jolt awake when he exits the interstate, pulling into a rest stop. “S’matter?” Warbled, you grab the steering wheel to pull your chest forward, suddenly on your mettle.

If you weren’t so sleepy, you would be entranced by his lax laugh, short but charmingly amused. “Nothing. I suspected you would like some rest.”

While he could continue with no qualms, he understood you’d likely get poor respite along the unpredictable asphalt of the road. There was an urgency, of course, but now that he possessed the coordinates, he allowed himself to take the necessary break, no longer on edge. As much as he needed to get there, you needed to get there as well, content and healthy within the highest priorities.

“You sure?” You mumble, now relaxing against the seat when you sense there is no trouble on the horizon. “I can go get an energy drink or a coffee-”

“Positive.” He ascertains, finding a desolate area of the parking lot before cutting his engine and turning his lights off. “We will make a significant dent in the journey tomorrow.”

You maneuver out of the driver’s seat, hopping over the center console to reach the backseat in an unsteady manner. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you righten your sweatshirt that had gotten askew in the jump, catching the lights of the rest stop just over your shoulder out the rear window.

Such a sight warns that you’re offensively thirsty, mouth dry from having nodded off to sleep just moments prior. It’s a careful tread, you are unsure if he’ll be agreeable to you splitting up if only for a few minutes, but if you display insistence then he’ll likely have no choice in the matter.

Swallowing your uneasiness, you press forward. “Oh…before I crash, I’m gonna go get some water,”

He doesn’t particularly like the idea, but he can’t hold you back from such a necessity. “Do you wish for me to accompany you?” Magnus tries, positive you’ll turn it down, but it would in the very least satiate some of his tensions.

Though he was self-aware of the fact he only had enough reserves to activate his holomatter once more on this expedition, he had hoped to save it for a more emergency setting. It was only his nature; he would unequivocally offer, especially if you felt unsafe traversing unknown grounds so late into the evening.

“No, I’m okay. I’ll be right back,” Scooping your backpack off the ground, you heave it onto your shoulder patiently waiting for the rear door to open on its own volition. It doesn’t at first, causing you to look back toward the dashboard, anticipating his explanation of how this was a bad idea and vying to pull you back inside with a simple question. He could do that, inadvertently has the power to do so, and as much as you’d want to protest, no argument would ever arise on your behalf.

Magnus pauses, but eventually relents, to your minor disbelief. “If you are not back in ten kliks, I will be looking for you,”

You spare a laugh, sparing a glance down at your phone, you note the time before the door pops open. “How about fifteen?”

He grumbles, uptight by your counteroffer, but concedes once more to your bargaining. “Fifteen. And not a moment more.”

“Gotcha. Promise, I’ll be right back.” Holding out your palm, you reach over to gently bump it to the dash, a pat of reassurance, but he could not say any of his nerves were lessened.

Mirrors tipping to follow your movements, your feet slot onto the two metal steps before jumping down from the warm interior. Watchfully, you begin your hike across the parking lot, slipping into the rest stop where you disappear from his immediate sight. It stresses him, the first time in many hours you’ve come to be apart, that this was the longest stretch of time together since you’re untimely first meeting.

The walk across the lot wasn’t arduous, but the chill of the night air gave you an uneasy feeling that couldn’t be shaken. Every step you took led to hyperawareness, fearful that someone was truly watching you, but every time you turned around, it was nothing.

A family trying to reload the car after a pitstop, a dog barking at passersby through an opened window, a couple arguing seven cars down. They all never once paid you any mind, all too engrossed in their situations and problems, but it didn’t mean your steps were any less confident. You began to falter, a queasy feeling haunting the bottom of your stomach as you assessed the lot to one final extent, to find no one was regarding back at you.

Everything is fine. You assure, a thought that is swept and stolen by the wind. Your fingers find the door handle, tugging it open as you enter the rest stop, in search of a bathroom first.

On the other hand, left to a familiar solitude, he’s counting the moments that pass on high alert as cars and trucks come and depart the rest area. Though none of them bear the Decepticon symbol, he understood that they were far smarter than to display such an unexplainable advertisement when trying to keep a low profile. His worry was warranted, especially with their newfound discovery of the unknown trailer, hellbent on tracking his shared steps at the very least. Nothing was taken for granted, hoping these moments to pause weren’t inherent mistakes, but he sought solace in the fact that he was not alone in this entire endeavor.

The building wasn’t crowded, but as you exited the bathroom, the main lobby appeared a little livelier than it was when you entered, a shocker at the given hour. Hiking your backpack a little higher onto your shoulder, you cross the tiled floor in a straight line toward the vending machines, digging around in your pocket in search of your wallet.

They were almost strategically placed in the farthest corner of the room, tucked away by a seemingly random wall that keeps it pardoned off from the main lobby. You found yourself alone, scanning the walls in search of a prolonged presence, but find no one to blame. Turning to the machine that held several different brands of water, you shift your weight from foot to foot in an effort to move this along as fast as possible.

And all at once, you find the familiar sensation of another set of eyes on you, even after you had scoured the split off to ensure no one was there to watch you. Yet, this stare was more intense, as if a few paces away, so you tried to catch someone in the glass of the vending machine while fumbling around for some coins. After catching nothing but other irregularly placed machines, you inhale stiffly to find the aforementioned set of judgment, piercing irises that as soon as you whip around to catch the full body, the person has vanished into thin air.

Another gasp leaves you, gaze bouncing across the lobby to try and catch those irises, but they were nowhere to be found, a frustrating revelation. Now wholly afraid, you swallow thickly and pivot off to the right, now in search of the body with no descriptors other than such fierce eyes.

As the clock ticks to the agreed-upon time, he finds himself agitated to discover you are nowhere to be found. With a heavy ex-vent, his holomatter fizzles to life just beside the door of his cabin, well hidden by the poor lighting. Displeasure flares as he follows your path inside the building, brow furrowed upon opening the glass door. Moving along the leftmost wall, he hurriedly scans the room, perplexed to uncover your shaking body pressed up against the window at the rear of the building, staring fixedly out of it.

“What are you doing?” You force yourself to stifle a shriek as a gentle but firm hand comes to your shoulder, pulling you away from your search in one instant. When he sees your glassy gawp, terrified once more, he follows your line of sight into the parking lot. “Did you see something?”

You shake your head no, a contradiction as you sink heavily in his hold. “I thought I saw…ugh, I don’t know.” Lowering your voice, you beckon him closer, and he immediately obliges, stooping to your level without an argument. “Someone was watching, I saw them, but every time I turned around, they were gone,”

He doesn’t like anything about that remark, and their inopportune disappearances only led him to believe more holomatter avatars were in play, able to track both of your moves simultaneously. “Come, I think at this point it is best to keep moving. You can rest, and I’ll keep this activated as long as I can.”

His attempts to soothe you were appreciated, but you could see through his front too easily, a feat unknowingly achieved by being attached to his hip for some time now. “I can stay awake-” You try, but he’s already gradually peeled you away from the window, a large hand unwavering on your shoulder as he guides you through the atrium, headed straight for the front door.

“No. It is not wise to ignore your ailments, y/n. I can discern you are very tired.” At some point, he’s almost holding you upright, having maneuvered yourself underneath his arm sloppily. “I believe in what you think you saw. And I am in no position to let this ruin what we have worked so hard to achieve.”

We. He’d said it without thinking, a simple reflection that was uttered without a second thought. Magnus meant it, wholeheartedly, and silently hoped that you hadn’t picked up on it in such a fatigued state. He couldn’t try to explain such an accomplishment, at least not right now, when strains and anxieties were running so high.

“It wasn’t the same eyes,” You insist, almost tripping on the curb if Magnus wasn’t there to keep you steady. “I mean, they were red, but they were different. They were like…”

And when you tilt your head backward, almost into the crook of his neck, he looks down your way, to which your own eyes jump wide. “Whatever is the matter?” He implores, distressed by your reaction.

You had noticed the intensity of his cerulean gaze the first time you’d met his avatar, but it was shelved for taking in the entirety of his form. You recall having a hard time meeting his eyes, but you blamed that on embarrassment and moved past such a circumstance rather quickly. Though Magnus had intense blue eyes, these were almost the opposite, dark crimson but never losing the brightness that he carried.

But after the most recent interaction, so fresh in your mind, you can’t help it. “They were like yours,”

“Mine?” He asks, only solidifying his anguishes.

“Mhm.” A sluggish nod, though you were steadily slipping away from reality, hardly registering he had helped you into his cabin once more. “Red. But the same…” You’re slumped in the backseat, cheek resting up against your backpack that you’ve decided to use as a makeshift pillow, a slurred drawl to your words.

Ultra Magnus takes point behind the steering wheel once more, his avatar glitching periodically to warn him not to keep it operational for much longer. Looking over his shoulder at you fast asleep, curled up across the leather of the chair, a feeling of ease finds him again, cataloging you were safe and sound once more.

With a start, the engine turns over, his headlights blink to life, and he commences out of the parking lot to merge back onto the highway, leaving the rest stop a poor memory amongst a sea of good ones.

[d1xonss]

Before the apocalypse

✧ Rose

❧ Knows how to play the guitar, piano, and violin thanks to the many lessons she took as a kid.

❧ She grew up religious, as her family was very heavily involved in the Christian church. Which led to her having to participate as well, singing in the choir nearly every Sunday morning. And she hated every second of it.

❧ One of Rose’s favorite things to do when she was young was play outside with her younger sister on the old, rickety swing-set in their backyard. (If it was summertime, their Dad would bring out the inflatable pool and floaties.)

❧ Her love for painting was inspired by Bob Ross. She used to watch his programs religiously, wanting to be as positive and creative as him.

❧ When the weather would get cooler, Rose would always look forward to when her Dad would take her out to teach her how to track and hunt. It was about the only free time he had to spend with her as he was almost constantly traveling for work.

❧ She loves horror movies more than any other genre. (Especially IT.)

❧ Her first kiss was with a girl. ;)

❧ Since as early as high school, Rose has always been an active weed smoker. (And occasionally a cigarette every now and then she would steal from her Mother.)

❧ Her favorite color has always been a deep red.

❧ Rose didn’t have many friends throughout her life, except for one boy she met her sophomore year. He loved art as much as she did, often finding themselves silently sketching during lunch without saying much of anything. There was a time he did a portrait of her, and it hung proudly in her room for years.

❧ She tried skateboarding once; broke her arm in the process.

❧ Whenever her Dad took a trip to the gas station, she would always come with him as if it were a routine. They would blast 80s rock in his beat up truck, often getting many unhealthy snacks to take back. It was another rare time they could get away and spend time together, away from her Mother’s constant negative energy.

❧ Loves coffee.

❧ Rose’s first day at Law Enforcement Training was no walk in the park. She cried.

❧ But after she successfully took down her first guy a few weeks later, she realized why she had chosen the career in the first place. It felt nice being able to take out the pent up frustration.

❧ 100% a dog person.

✧ Daryl

❧ In elementary school, Daryl was always really good at science. He would often get gold stars from his teachers for all the hard work. And though his love for school didn’t stick, he found himself always being a nature freak.

❧ One year for Christmas, his Mom surprised him with a small lego set that he had been wanting for months. After she passed, he always carried around a single piece in his pocket to keep her close.

❧ When his parents were low on money one summer, he set up his own lemonade stand to sell just on the outskirts of his neighborhood. He only made six dollars, but he was still very proud for putting himself out there.

❧ Daryl was definitely a Mama’s boy.

❧ Secretly loves having his back scratched. (Only if he trusts you of course.)

❧ He often went out alone in the woods to explore ever since he was as young as nine years old. There was a small river just a little ways out past the trees, and he always found himself swimming in it more often than not.

❧ Despite his attempts to deny it, Daryl did in fact attend a middle school dance. But he was far too shy to ask any girl to dance with him, leading to him awkwardly standing in the corner for most of the night.

❧ Stray cats would often explore the area he lived in, and he always took it upon himself to leave out a little food and water underneath his porch just in case.

❧ He absolutely despises tomato sauce.

❧ He got his first bike when he was sixteen years old from a friend of his brothers. He thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Though he ended up spending more money to fix it than what it originally cost, still, that hunk of junk was his pride and joy.

❧ Puzzles were one of his favorite ways to pass the time.

❧ After dropping out of high school, he moved around a lot, traveling to different places with his brother. He found he was most at peace in the mountains.

❧ Daryl always had at least some amount of change in his pocket.

❧ He hates large crowds, but made an exception to go to a Metallica concert.

❧ His first experience with a woman ever was more than awkward. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, and often found himself accidentally kissing with his eyes open.

❧ A secret Dolly Parton fan.

AN ~ Hii! So, I know no one really asked for this, but I decided to do some pre-apocalypse headcanons for Daryl and Rose:) Since the last few chapters I’ve put out have been pretty sad, I hope this makes up for it at least a little bit.

I thought about adding a few extra ones of them as a couple, but I figured this was long enough already. But if you want to see that just let me know and I’ll make more!:)

As always, thank you for all the love xoxox

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

hey! so i hope this isn’t too creepy/nosey, but im a medical student and i was reading your possible fibromyalgia post and have a couple ideas lol. full important disclaimer that im only partly into my studies and im currently in the hypochondriac phase and also your summary was amazing but a real doc would ask way more questions, so please consult with an actual doc and take everything i say with a grain of salt! but like your symptoms aren’t nothing so i would def encourage finding a doc that you trust to do a proper exam and run some tests. also im operating under the assumption that you’re under 50 lol, bc if you’re over 50ish that’s a whole diff list of possible diagnoses.

so the thirst thing you’re talking about is often called polydipsia and is commonly associated with diabetes insipidus. that’s not the normal diabetes you think about, but happens when your body can’t regulate fluids in your body properly. id think of this if you’re also peeing a lot lol. your doc would have to do some kidney tests for that, which wouldn’t be part of the blood panel you mentioned. i’m a little skeptical that it’s hypokalemia bc that would’ve showed up on your blood test results. it could be transient electrolyte imbalances when you exercise so have one of those electrolyte packets when you exercise lol, bc it never hurts to try the easy solutions first, but chronic low potassium should’ve shown up? tho eating sweet potatoes has never hurt.

other things it could be is a lower motor neuron problem bc you mentioned twitches and muscle weakness which is typical for those. i def can’t say more without tests, but look into/get your doc to look into myasthenia gravis or LEMS and see if either of those fit. i think it’s possible bc these often also start with face/upper body symptoms, but would need way more questions/tests to know. it’s unlikely but could also be a glycogen storage disease called McArdle disease bc you describe a second wind thing when you exercise along with exercise intolerance. that’s super rare tho so it’s unlikely unless someone in your family has it/has similar symptoms.

also look into autoimmune stuff like rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, and sjögrens disease. i have way less useful info on that bc we haven’t gotten to it in class yet lol, but sjögrens looks promising bc you often get dry mouth with it, and it often goes along with rheumatoid arthritis which could explain the joint stuff possibly.

it’s also totally possible this is fibromyalgia, but i would be cautious diagnosing it bc it often comes with fatigue and cognitive stuff which you didn’t mention. it’s also more of a pain thing, and doesn’t include your twitches/dry mouth. it’s def possible, and it was def something i thought of when i saw your symptoms, but personally i would want to rule out other stuff first bc fibromyalgia is pretty vague and often a diagnosis of exclusion when other things don’t fit.

sorry for overwhelming you!! i just saw your post and was like hmmm those symptoms sound like Something. again take my advice with a big grain of salt, but i do really think it’s worth asking your doc about it and getting tests done, bc even if there aren’t cures there are def treatments to help with a bunch of this stuff. it doesn’t sound urgent, but at least from your post your symptoms don’t sound like run of the mill aches and pains. hope you figure stuff out!!

The problem with 'muscles don't work right ouchy and I am also tired' is that it's a symptom for Absolutely Everything That Can Be Wrong With The Body. Is it cancer? Is it a terrible diet and sleep schedule? Who knows!

The doctor ran a diabetes test with the blood panel and it came up negative, but I don't know if that checks for weird kinds of diabetes. (Diabetes does not run in my family until we get very old.) That test was memorable because I have stupid fragile veins that freak out and collapse at the mere sight of a needle so I had to get stabbed nine times, they didn't manage to get the middle reading at all, and in the end they resorted to just stabbing my thumb with one of those diabetes home blood test thingies and manually squeezing my blood out into a tube drop by drop.

I looked up polydipsia and I don't think I have that. I think I just prefer my mouth to be wetter than my salival glands want it to be. 🤷‍♀️I think most of my problems are probably not related to any rare chronic disease, but just run-of-the-mill autism making it hard to look after myself or properly notice and process my physical condition and adapt accordingly. I don't eat enough fresh foods because it's hard to plan with the very short timeframe to prepare and eat them in. I'm uncoordinated and damage my body a lot through overwork or using muscles incorrectly because autism makes it hard to keep track of those things. My mouth feels dry and my skin feels itchy and my muscles feel sore because that's what being autistic feels like. My sleep schedule is garbage because my executive function is garbage and even once I do manage to get myself into the bed I can't just "go to sleep", I pass out when I'm ready to pass out.

I'm not saying it's impossible for anything else to be going on, but I think the known factor is the simplest explanation here. It's 2:30pm and I've been putting off breakfast for five hours. Every time I go into the kitchen I get distracted by housework instead. I am very hungry. This is not behaviour that is conducive to a well-functioning body.