A/N: This is a writing exercise I did on my lunch, trying to get more comfortable with writing and not set as many rules for myself. Not proofread, posting this then back to work lol. Tags: Fluff, Yapping, Drabble, Sylus x Female Reader/MC SFW but suggestive themes, Female POV has ADHD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Data Management was tough. Being a cross department coordinator was even tougher. When the hunters association realized you were good at both, and that they needed that between the field and data and weapons development teams and that they wanted you to save your strength for unique missions, they pulled you to deskwork. They did however still want you in the field ready for action, so remote computer work it was!

Your apartment was small, cramped, and not exactly a hot zone for action. They had been sending you to the N109 zone alot more frequently due to a large number of odd protofields popping up recently, so it only made sense that one of Sylus's many safehouses quickly became your top remote work destination. Sure, getting IT to whitelist "Crowcentral" as a safe wifi wasn't the easiest, but once it was done you were good to go.

Burnout though, haunted you no matter your location. While you often appreciated alot of the N109 Zone's quirks, its gloomy atmosphere didn't always help your energy levels. Even with your ADHD meds, a bit of a backlog of to do items had begun to build up at work, but no new protofields had popped up recently, so fieldwork was on pause. 

Sylus with his extensive management experience took note, but waited for you to open up before offering a hand.

*huff*

You exhale exasperatedly, flopping over on the plush rug you had turned into a remote work nest next to the coffee table where your work laptop stared back at you, the number slowly ticking up in your inbox hourly, day by day.

"Trouble at work, sweetie?" Sylus mused gently, looking over at you from his desk, glancing up over his reading glasses. Sure he had an office, but since you liked how cozy his weapons room/library was, he had decided to set up shop in there, especially once you told him what "body doubling" was and that you needed a work buddy to maintain focus. 

"Yes, Sy. And No. But still yes at the same time." 

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"... do elaborate. What's this sort-of trouble?"

You glanced over.

"Its me, Sy. Im the trouble." 

"How so? You get the job done, even if your pacing is a bit... erratic." He smiled gently, commending your work efforts while acknowledging your ADHD pacing.

"I'm letting it build up too much, the backlog of to do stuff. Its nice that ive gotten most of it down, but now thats its boring i cant knock it out as easily. Got any tips or reccomendations Boss-Man?"

"Sounds like you need motivation."

"Yeahhh but since I quit drinking, I can't use alcohol, and since im trying to stay in shape, can't use sugar." 

You pouted, taunting images of brownies and red wine dancing mockingly in your head. 

"Welllll..." He trailed of, a smirk growing across his handsome features.

"Welll what?!? Do you have something unique in mind?"

He had your attention now. Sylus leaned back, stretching his arms upward; his chiseled form visible and detailed in his dark gray button up. 

He stood up, and began sauntering over to you.

"What if I told you I'd been working on a rennovation, one that I think you in particular will like?"

You sat up, now much more awake and interested. 

"Ooooh! I love a good rennovation! Can you show me?!"

"Ah-ah-ahhhhh. Only good girls who are caught up at work get to see the new basement."

You opened your mouth, ready to start brattily challenging him

"...And before you ask, no you won't be able to sneak in it. There's one key in and out and only I know where it is"

"But I dont think I even need to use the basement as motivation if were being realistic sweetie."

He had reached where you were on the floor and crouched down, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. Your pulse quickened. His grip loosened, his index finger lightly tracing your veins up to the crook of your arm. *dammit, he must have known you were close to ovulating this week*

You felt your ears and neck grow hot, flushed red with anticipation. 

As quickly as he was there, one black and red flash later he was at the door to the hallway. "I'm going to pick us up some lunch. Best get to it kitten."

That was all the motivation you needed. That inbox and to-do list was going to be done come hell or high water.

The finch lets

Little notes wander off

Chirping, without intent

It's simply the first day

The sun gained enough strength

To caress again

What's heard is purely the sound

me: oh— sorry, I... I didn't mean to...

Guns guns we got guns rivers of blood for fun blood splatter at the crime scene war guns crime guns entertainment entertain us with violence death glorious death ignominous death tragic death pull a trigger end a problem pull a trigger it's your right yes it's my right because your right to life and liberty ends where the second amendment begins oh yes indeed so celebrate with a full clip in your assault rifle of freeedom and celebrate that you live in the land of bullet riddled freedom and that you can...

wait what?

you love who? you love how? you...you SINNER! you MONSTER! you FREAK! we will shun you shame you mock you beat you rape you torture you humiliate you dehumanize you KILL you because it isn't murder it is not a sin it's our second amendment right to pass judgement and deliver death unto you it is our god given right to annihilate what we don't like what we don't understand what we don't agree with and that we fear

This is Amerika. Atrocities and mass shootings and children gunned down en masse is the price of freeedom there's nothing wrong with it bad about it wrong about. This is Amerika.

Get idea or inspiration can also just be vauge characters

Stew

Continue stewing until you've got a first sentence you will delete later

Create a pintrest board

Stare at said pintrest board

Get really inspired write like three chapters in one go

Figure out the villan

Write a outline you will throw out the window post the midpoint

Writers block

Rewrite

Stew

Keep writing-throw trash on that page like your life depends on it.

Uh oh we have reached the midpoint

Stare at pintrest board

This step is tricky. You either finish most of the book in a month or give up

Oops, what's that? Writers block again

Finish book

DO NOT USE AI FOR ANY OF THE ABOVE OR BELOW STEPS

WE'RE SUFFERING THE OLD FASHIONED WAY TO GET THIS IDEA (talking to friends or looking for inspiration is acceptable) BUT WE ARE GOING TO COUCH MOPE A LOT. OLD FADHIONED WAY THOUGH. I'm talking staring out windows, listening to music, staring longingly at blank pages.

Do all of this again until you've got something to work with.

Put book down for a few weeks/months

Come back decide if it's worth working on

Expect varying levels of discouragement.

Bam. You've maybe got a book

silence…

Some call it devotion

I call it humiliation.

My lord, my one truth-

Where have you gone?

A world rid of you

Yet a world plagued by you

Is my world, the air-

Which I breathe in.

You, the mountains-

The breath of a sparrow

The spread of a fin.

You, my life-

My ruler and my kin

Now your crown lies at my feet-

Your throne but a nest of thorns.

The flowers I've presented,

My gift to my dear

Trampled in cold blood.

Flies gather now,

Where devotees did.

My lord-

Now you're the world.

The waterfall your tears

Your nails the rocks

The sun and the moon-

Are those starry eyes

The red which bleeds into

the horizon is now ichor

Your hair flowing in the wind

Is but wild grass, Swaying

In tandem to my pulse,

Your relevance a glacier-

So why did it melt...?..

In every leaf and every ore

Your voice has haunt

In my heart, and my soul

Won't you remain?

My lord, my world-.....

Themes of dehumanization, disability and talking about my body as something non-human. This is a text that went from cursing my body as my own aggressor and dehumanizator that transformed into a love letter to my brother.

Brother, sorry about the window. I’m still sorry.

There is nothing human on this body; had I not been born a dog, nothing would have changed.

I say, with certainty, there is nothing human on this body— just as there is nothing human in my brother steering the wheel while throwing bottles and grocery tickets on the car’s floor to get me a bag to throw my breakfast into.

The annoyance of having driven me to my university gate, his voice, my voice.

“I think I need to go home”.

There is nothing human, in the almost not-playful annoyed “huh?” Coming out of his mouth. There is nothing human in the look of horror of my brother’s reflection on the mirror as I feel myself sleeping further and further, he sees me clutch my heart in my hands and tears flowing out of my eyes.

There is nothing human, in planning a date with your partner for weeks, waking up early, eating breakfast, feeling happy. Going out early, having your younger sister on the backseat playing games.

God, I get it, I am a dog, but my brother is not, let him be human, please.

This disability is not contagious, but it’s genetic, we share the same genes. Older brother gene, little sister gene. I-love-you-genes.

There is nothing human in driving back home, dropping your sister off, and driving off with a backseat filled with tears, alcohol and bags.

I am a dog, there is nothing human in that, but that’s not enough, it seems. My joints displace, I walk crooked and my spine hunches and twists. I bend in odd shapes, I become odd shapes. I am nothing but a memory of pain and uncanny-ness.

And yet is not enough, I want to laugh, take me apart, strip my clothes off and strip my skin, break my ribcage, my heart is not enough, it keeps stopping and re starting, please hit it like the tv I had back when I was three and my body didn’t hurt that much.

I pushed my odd shapes and forms into a tight fitting human suit. Got in the car. Kept pushing and pushing as it tried to climb my throat, god why am I so stupid, my fingers bent inside my ribcage, my joints are all out place, this conglomerate of not-human things it’s slipping though my fingers.

What is human there? Where is humanity in having my brother clean up the vomit from the car window again while I bite my tongue because I cannot stop apologizing.

There is nothing human in doing calculus on how many classes more I can skip without failing because I feel like I am dying.

Show my corpse some humanity please.

Bury me far away from my university grounds, but keep my paints and canvas, and bury me inside my brother’s heart, inside his eyes, bury me inside the humanity he is trying to share with me like the food he has shared with me since I was first able to eat.

Please bury me with humanity, and bury me in the love of my brother. Let my shapeless form melt and fuse with colors so his life never loses spark.

Bury me in my brother, and let me sleep on his skin like a tattoo that won’t stop repeating: “I am sorry”

There is nothing human here, but my brother.