#just in case my brain decides caffeine does work that day
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Two of my favourite things ☺️
#personal#rooibos tea#rooibos vanilla#rooibos chai#caffeine free - even tho my brain loves stimulants#these are amazing when I come home from work#just in case my brain decides caffeine does work that day#but my current sleep issues are more of a physical thing#i need to burn off the energy at the gym and can’t cuz I can’t rush injury healing#especially not with a knee
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Day thirteen of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.
Tim gets to the Gotham mall Tim Drake is meeting Superboy at fifteen minutes early because on-time is late, and is entirely unsurprised to have to wait twenty minutes for Kon to show up. Actually, if anything he’s surprised to only have to wait twenty minutes for Kon to show up.
“Sorry I’m late. You will not believe this, but there was literally a cat stuck in a tree,” Kon says with a sheepish, guilty grin as he lands right next to him in full costume like that’s a perfectly normal thing to do, especially in Gotham. Tim is very glad he decided to wait in one of the security cameras’ more out-of-the-way blind spots.
“I’m surprised the cat let you save it,” he says, raising an eyebrow at him. It is Gotham, after all.
“He did not,” Kon says, making a face. “He tried to claw my eyes out and then jumped off my head and down into his owner’s arms, who proceeded to ask me why I thought I was too good to wear body armor.”
“Well, why do you?” Tim asks, feeling a bit of quiet pride on behalf of his city. Gothamites have priorities.
“Because anything that could hit me hard enough that I’d need body armor for it would trash the body armor anyway,” Kon replies matter-of-factly, gesturing illustratively at himself. “TTK only works on skintight clothes. Like, I did not go for Spandex as a fashion choice, it’s because anything else would shred right off me in an actual fight.”
Tim feels his own eyes glaze over.
“Uh-huh,” he manages vaguely.
“Also I don’t know where I’d get body armor stronger than I already am anyway,” Kon says. “Cadmus doesn’t have any and that’s pretty much my whole supply chain, you know?”
“Uh-huh,” Tim manages again, still attempting to reboot his brain. “Shred right off, huh?”
“Yeah,” Kon says with a shrug. “It’s not exactly dignified, fighting crime naked.”
“. . . uh-huh.”
Tim blinks a few times. Blinks again. Then he shakes his head and forces the mental reboot.
“First things first, are you hungry?” he asks. “There’s a pretzel place and a smoothie shop right over there, or we could just hit the food court.”
“I could eat,” Kon says with another shrug. “I mean, who doesn’t appreciate a good smoothie?”
“Well, don’t get your hopes up, Gotham smoothies are fine but unfortunately use a lot more frozen fruit than Metropolis ones,” Tim says, which is the one and only thing he will ever hear said against Gotham.
“Isn’t frozen better anyway?” Kon asks, wrinkling his nose. “Fresh fruit makes it kinda watery sometimes. Frozen it comes out thicker and stuff.”
Okay, well, Tim is apparently talking to someone who knows a lot more about smoothie-making than he does. Note to self. Also, what an incredibly weird thing for Kon to know. Like, even weirder than the caffeine.
“Does it?” he says. “I just always hear fresh is better than frozen.”
“From pretentious snobs who can grocery shop every day, I bet,” Kon snorts, rolling his eyes. Which . . . is a fair and accurate assessment, admittedly. “And it’s a smoothie, not a juice bar. They’re supposed to be frozen, yeah?”
“Okay, well, in that case, guess we’re getting better-quality smoothies than I’d assumed,” Tim says.
“Spoiling me, huh, pretty boy?” Kon says with a smirk. Tim experiences every possible flavor of mortification under the sun and smirks back.
“If I wanted to spoil you, we’d be getting smoothies in California right now,” he says.
“I mean, we could,” Kon says with a snicker, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets.
“I appreciate the offer but that seems like a lot of travel time just for smoothies,” Tim says wryly. “Did you bring a change of clothes?”
“No, why?” Kon says, looking puzzled.
“. . . so we can hang out without anyone bothering you,” Tim says, wondering how that could've possibly not occurred to Kon. “Or interrupting the conversation every five minutes.”
Kon looks–odd, briefly. Tim isn't sure why.
“Hate to break it to you but I'm not exactly a scintillating conversationalist,” Kon says with a quick, forced smile. “You might want the interruptions.”
Tim thinks there might be a few more people to add to his supervillain vengeance hit list. Like, just possibly. Maybe.
“What's your size?” he asks.
“Beats me,” Kon says, looking a little odd again. “I don't wear civilian clothes like . . . ever, really. Like, swimsuits at the beach, sure, but that's about it.”
“What, never?” Tim asks, a little incredulous. Fucking–what is wrong with literally everyone Kon has ever known, for fuck's sake?
“I mean, I have,” Kon says with an awkward little shrug, keeping his hands in his pockets. “Just not all that often, so I dunno what my size or whatever is.”
“Okay,” Tim says, internally seething. Fucking Cadmus. Fucking Superman. Nobody ever even taught Kon how to fucking dress himself? How is that even a thing, for fuck's sake?! How is he supposed to ever get even five fucking minutes of being a normal person if he doesn't even own a goddamn pair of jeans?!
Maybe Tim could do the supervillain thing a little bit earlier than planned. Like. Possibly. As long as he keeps the majority of his villain-ing outside of Gotham, anyway. That'd work, right?
“Give me five minutes,” he says. “I'll be right back, just try to . . . uh, be . . . subtle, I guess.”
Kon looks at him. Looks down at his bright costume and striking leather jacket.
Tim despairs of his own capacity to do, like . . . anything. Ever.
“Just wait right here, okay?” he says.
“Okay?” Kon says skeptically. Tim takes the better part of valor and flees the scene. Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, he's back with a bag full of clothes that he eyeballed the sizes of that Kon hopefully won't hate, and that he also-hopefully eyeballed correctly enough. He's been learning how to do that more accurately, because you never know when you'll need to immediately get someone in new clothes in this line of work, but it's still a learning process.
Kon takes out the dark wash skinny jeans and bulky forest green turtleneck sweater that should cover his suit effectively enough, as long as he takes off his gloves and jacket and maybe a belt or two, and the outfit's maybe a little heavy for the weather, especially layered with his suit, but it is Gotham and their chances of getting randomly rained on are higher than zero, put it that way.
“You can get changed over there,” Tim says, pointing towards the nearest men's room.
“What is this?” Kon asks, puzzledly rubbing the sleeve of the sweater between his fingers.
“Cashmere,” Tim says, because obviously he sprung for cashmere. Kon wrinkles his nose, still looking puzzled.
“It’s really . . . soft,” he says, almost hesitant.
Tim doesn’t say “to be honest, I’ve always kind of assumed you’d appreciate nice textures more than most people, given the ‘tactle’ part of your telekinesis” and just shrugs.
“I’ll get you something else if you don’t like it,” he says, and Kon bites his lip. “Or if it doesn’t fit.”
“I mean–it’s just gonna get wrecked anyway. Like, I have a very developed history of wrecking things. Especially clothes,” he mutters, not looking up from the sweater. Which is, Tim cannot help but notice, not an “I don’t like it”. Actually, it’s just about the opposite of that, he can’t help but suspect.
“Then I’ll get you another one,” he says with a shrug. “It’s just a sweater. I’ll buy you as many as you want.”
“That’s very weird of you, man,” Kon says, rubbing the cashmere between his fingers again. “Like, you’re aware that buying superheroes sweaters is not a normal pastime, right?”
“I wasn’t really concerned with being not weird,” Tim replies reasonably.
“Uh,” Kon says, glancing at his face for a moment and then . . . pausing, briefly, before zipping off without actually saying whatever he was about to say.
Well, alright then.
Tim has several very weird reactions to the idea of Kon putting on clothes he picked out for him and immediately beats them all down because it is really not the time. Not even slightly is it the time.
But Kon is also currently putting on clothes he picked out for him.
Tim has possibly made a mistake or two here.
Or definitely. Definitely Tim has made a mistake here, now that he’s considering how soft and pettable that cashmere actually was and the fact that Kon is about to be wearing it and therefore also going to be very soft and pettable and–
Tim has made so many mistakes here.
#timkon#tim drake#kon el#conner kent#young just us#young justice#long post#wip: obligatory sugar baby kon
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brilliant (like a confession)
By kathkin on AO3
After knowing Clark Kent for eight years, Lois finally realizes she is in love with him. She obviously can't go to Clark about this situation, so she goes to the only other decent man she knows to seek advice from: Superman. Clark decides he cannot play this charade in front of her for any longer.
I love this fic for so many reasons. Clark Kent and Lois Lane are my favorite couple of all time and I think the description of Lois' feelings in this fic are so spot on. Lois knows Clark was in love with her when they first met, but assumes that he had simply gotten over it after so much time. She's wrong. I'm gonna include two of my favorite moments from it. The first is when she first realizes she's in love with him:
It’s hard to stay cynical in the face of Clark Kent and his relentless optimism. Looking at him there, still in his button up shirt from his business trip, sleeves rolled up, still focused even though it’s pushing midnight, she feels a warm, steady wave of fondness in her chest.
She wishes they could do this every night. Not the pulling a furious all-nighter right after someone tried to murder her – that part she could take or leave. But it would be nice to spend every evening with Clark. She’d always told herself she liked her space, but being with Clark was like having space and having company rolled into one.
It would be nice to have dinner with him every night. To just – come home with him every night, and eat dinner, and wash the dishes and watch TV together. It would be nice to have him in her life, all the time.
Then her highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived brain catches up with the implications of that thought process, and she thinks, shit.
Oh, not now. She can’t deal with this right now. She’s had enough drama for one day. She’s in the middle of a story and she doesn’t have the time or the space or the emotional energy or the – anything to deal with –
My second favorite moment is when Clark tells Lois he's Superman, and you can see Lois' thought process and emotions shift when she starts looking at things from his perspective:
She’s thought before, that Superman must be lonely. He’s gotta be, right? It’s lonely at the top. That’s what they say. He’s the only one of his kind on earth. The only one in the whole universe, maybe.
It’s one thing to think about that loneliness in an abstract way – to picture him alone in his ice palace, doing whatever it is he does when he’s not being a hero. It’s another thing to be confronted with the raw and immediate reality of that loneliness.
To spend eight years – longer, maybe – not letting your guard down, not even letting anyone hear your real voice. To be afraid to even touch anyone, in case you broke them. How did a person live like that.
The thing was – there were a lot of different directions you could look at this conversation from. She’s been turning and turning it over in her head for coming up on twenty-four hours and she’s still not sure she’s seen them all.
There’s Clark Kent is Superman but also Superman is Clark Kent, which in spite of sounding the same on paper were entirely different experiences, emotionally speaking. There was Clark Kent is an alien; there was Superman lives in a shitty apartment in south Metropolis and works as a reporter, which was a real blow-your-mind realisation. Superman once watched me throw up – god, what a mortifying thought.
Clark Kent had dropped everything and flown from LA to Metropolis to keep her safe. He’d flown three thousand miles to catch her in his arms.
Superman had come to her apartment with dinner to make sure she was okay. Superman had sat up with her for hours, while she was stressed out over her work and more rattled by the near death experience than she’d been willing to let on.
Now that she thought about it, this wasn’t the first time some version of this particular series of events had played out. She remembers a night – early on, maybe a year or two in – after that first incident with Brainiac. He’d sat with her till the sun came up, till her hands had stopped shaking – he’d politely pretended not to notice, that her hands were shaking. They’d watched a movie. She doesn’t remember which movie.
He's always been there.
Something about Lois realizing that Clark has always been there for her when it counts tickles my brain. I also love how the whole idea of being Superman makes him kind of lonely. In this fic, he has two different voices for Clark and Superman, yet none of them are his natural voice. Superman's voice is strong and commanding while Clark's is quite and unassuming. Lois notices this and realizes that Clark/Superman has literally been acting brave half the time and acting weak the other half of the time when he truly feels like he is somewhere in between. Also the short story of Lois being so traumatized by some early event with Brainiac that she spends an entire night physically shaking, and Clark is there for her, treating her like a normal person and only wants for her to feel better is so incredible and so telling of who he is as a person, and how much he cares for her.
Anyway, read this if you haven't yet. It's brilliant.
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What does your daily routine consist of?
I wake up at 6:45 am. I want to die. I check my phone until about 7:15 am because I need between 20 minutes and half an hour for my brain to decide it can be 1% functional. I force myself to get up. I still want to die. I take my meds because I have ADHD and a diagnosed anxiety disorder, so I need the pills to keep myself from shooting myself, you know. I usually shower at night because if I shower in the morning, I waste too much time since my timeline management is awful, so I get dressed, pack my bag, and head to work. I try to get on the metro, which feels like a very complicated mission at 8 am when I arrive—it’s like having to push through people and fight aggressively retiring ladies. I end up crammed into the car like a sardine between people who want to die and university students who also want to die but not as much because they can still be happy until they graduate and real hell begins. I get to the office, make myself a matcha latte because I can’t drink coffee as caffeine wrecks me. I have it with oat milk because I’m lactose intolerant, thanks. The first thing we do every day at 9 am is a meeting with the bosses, the psychology team, and the social workers to review the day’s plan. Then it depends on the week—some weeks I’m almost always at the office reviewing paperwork and the "boys" (the users of the organization I work for) come here, other weeks I go to supervised homes to interview them, and other weeks I have trials or hearings at court and spend the day out.
On Fridays, we have a general team meeting to talk about the cases of the people we manage, how they’re progressing, and unresolved matters. The social caregivers are also there; they work directly with them and give us feedback on the week, basically telling us about all the rules they’ve broken because they literally behave like teenagers who think their parents don’t notice their messes—but we do. And well, after that, we have some sessions where the users come in, and we run a progress check and evaluation with them. Not with all of them, just one or two each week.
My schedule is from 9 am to 6 pm, and there are days when I end up with a horrible migraine, days when I end up at the bar drinking to forget, days when I go straight home exhausted and can only watch True Crime on TV to stop thinking, and days when I’m in a reasonably good mood, and then I write my fanfiction, which I’ve committed to updating regularly as an exercise to work on my ADHD and the consistency it takes from me.
Every two weeks, I have therapy, and occasionally I go out with some guy I met on Tinder or during a night out, and well, not much else.
The good thing about days when I’m in the office and have lots of meetings is that most of them are on Zoom, so I can ditch all the tools my psychiatrist and therapist have given me to stay focused and answer questions like this while having five or six minimized faces on the screen talking about things I half-listen to because I’m incapable of paying attention to non-face-to-face conversations for more than 10 minutes. Fortunately, my boss is very happy with me because I get the "boys" everything they need and we share the same terrible rage when someone tries to harm the "boys" so he acts like he doesn’t notice when I dissociate or get distracted.
And that’s my life, the normal routine of a young adult with a teenage soul immersed in the social precariousness of depressing adulthood, already starting to experience an early 30s crisis.
#my life is so fucking boring#i used to travel a lot#working and studying and doing trips arround europe#but now i'm a dysfunctional adult#whit an expensive rent to pay#so i'm a boring person now#idgf really#q&a time#me#my life#self ego
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Coffee can't Keep you Awake Forever
RK800 Connor x F! Reader
Summary: You need some sleep, and Connor thinks he can provide just that.
A/n: Yes, I know I don't even have Detroit:become human listed under the fandoms I write for BUT this idea has been plauging my mind for DAYS.
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*·̩̩̥͙
"Would You like anything to drink?" Hanks voice sounds from the kitchen, "I've got booze."
Through your haze, you find your voice to respond, "No thank you, But thanks for the offer."
Hank comes back into the living room and sits in a lone arm-chair with his bottle. "Suit yourself."
You knew you couldn't handle any alcohol right now. Your brain was nearly haywire with exhaustion and alcohol would not do it justice.
A normal person would say "then sleep if you are tired." If only it were that easy. While you begged for sleep in all waking parts of the world, your brain had other plans. It refused to let you stop working for more than a few hours.
Truthfully, the only thing keeping you awake was a coffee every 2 hours and the pile of work that just kept adding to your mental shelves. That was to blame with how hectic the case had gotten recently. People turning up murdered by their rogue androids left and right had you drowning in paperwork.
So, yes, a break would be wonderful.
Getting up for another coffee, you trudged into the kitchen, feet heavy and limbs slow.
The coffee machine rumbled to life as you put your cup under the dispenser, a blue screen illuminating your face in the dim lighting of the room, showcasing an excessive amount of options to customize your drink.
Selecting the options that seemed most appealing to your tired eyes, the coffee machine got to work, pouring the contents of your liquid into the white mug you'd placed under it.
"You can't function on coffee forever. The human body needs sleep."
You jumped at the sound of a voice that had materialized from nearly thin air, "Jesus Christ! Connor! Don't do that!"
"I'm sorry if I alarmed you." He apologizes.
Waving a hand at the android you respond, "No, no. You're fine. I didn't hear you. That's all"
"I have noticed signs of sleep deprivation, recently. Bags beneath the eyes, Excessive yawning, little moments where you–"
You cut him off, "I'm not sleep deprived. I'm fine. Just stressed that's all."
Connor is quiet, his eyes staring at your back when you turn back to your newly delivered coffee. He contemplates, his programming running diagnostics upon diagnostics on the situation. Does he question if you are okay? Does he ask what's stressing you? Or does he just leave it alone?
He decides with the option that feels most right to him, "What is on your mind, lieutenant?"
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Something of a stress reliever. "The cases." Pausing, you continue, "I'm puzzled. Can't think of any logical reasons as to why this is happening."
While there are certainly hypothesis circulating within your posse of 3, none make proper sense. Androids were said to be mindless machines that didn't have the ability to decide for themselves, rather for the greater good of the whole. Yet, why were they each doing exactly what they were programmed not to do?
None of it made sense.
"Perhaps it would start making sense if you allowed yourself to get some sleep." He offered.
"I can't. That's the problem." Sipping the coffee in your hands to hopefully deter the fatigue overpowering you, screaming at your muscles and brain to stop working.
"I would like to help but I'm not certain if my services will be any use. I recommend staying off the caffeine for the time being. It will help coax your body into sleep sooner or later."
And with that, Connor was gone from the kitchen, leaving you alone with your drink.
With an angered and exasperated sigh, you dumped the remaining coffee in your mug down Hank's sink.
–
Sitting on the couch next to Connor, you began to regret not drinking that coffee. Your mind was in shambles, hundreds of things that could explain your cases involving deviants were swirling like fog, clouding your senses. Yet, you felt as if you were on the verge of discovering something big. Oh how you should have drank thar coffee! It was getting impossible to hold your eyes open any longer, each minute that ticked by adding to your exhaustion.
Hank stood up abruptly, still in his drunken stupor, and stumbled into his room, closing the door loudly behind him. That left you and Connor, side by side, on the couch with some movie going on in the background.
Connor had been focused (as much as an android could) on the movie for the duration of the time you'd come back. He wasn't interested in the show going on infront of his eyes, as an android he didn't process any particular attachment to the characters shown on TV nor feel any explicit interest in the plot point the two were reaching. It simply wasn't in his program to do so.
He could sense a pressure on his shoulder, and he cast a glance down to your sleeping form.
There, passed out from fatigue, with your head delicately placed upon Connor's shoulder, you fell asleep.
The android didn't mind. As long as you got the rest you deserved. As much as he knew you didn't want to hear it, nor talk about such a subject, he could see the weariness you carried over the past few days. Something in his programming told him it had something to do with the stress induced by the most recent homicide.
But yet, deep, buried beneath all his programming, he felt something arise within him. It made his LED turn yellow in deep thought.
But those were things he would have to figure out later, as he didn't plan on asking or moving from this position unless you did first. He wouldn't dare deprive you of your much needed sleep. Besides, you looked…
dare Connor say, cute.
#connor x reader#dbh connor#dbh rk800#connor rk800#detroit connor#hank anderson#lt. hank Anderson#female reader#x reader#detroit: become human
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pick one emoji u really want to answer from each section, for vitali and/or matvey teehee <3 👀
oc asks!
🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?
matvey is a very strategic liar which makes it very difficult to tell when he's lying. he's good at giving structured answers to questions in general and his lies follow the exact same structure as his truths, and he usually delivers it in the same monotone voice as he always does. the only way you would be able to tell he's lying is if you know him well enough to know all of his other mannerisms; body language, how he usually moves his hands, etc. when he's lying, he will be a LOT more static than when he's not, because he's a lot more focused on what he's saying than usual
vitali is very similar to his father in that case but rather than outright lying, he prefers to talk around the truth. where matvey starts a chain of lies to dig himself deeper and deeper into his own grave, vitali likes to keep his options open and talks around the truth as best as he can as to not make things worse for himself- or others, for that matter. if he does have to lie, it's hard to tell on a surface level, but also he will give very short and straightforward answers without a lot of elaborating unless asked; he usually doesn't have much to elaborate with which is why he tries to avoid it if possible, whereas when he's not lying he likes to explain himself to people so they understand his perspective better
☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?
matvey prefers cold drinks! he likes alcohol a lot unfortunately :/ became reliant on it for a while when he still worked at arasaka and then even more after he got fired, but nowadays only drinks it on special occasions- but still likes it more than most other drinks. he prefers to drink water rather than any sort of flavored drink or soda
vitali doesn't necessarily prefer hot drinks in general but he does like to drink coffee. generally sticks to decaf because it's better for him but especially on long days he needs the caffeine to get through it without passing out or losing his marbles. being a fixer can be very stressful sometimes
🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?
matvey is vitali's father and that's basically the whole starting point for him :^) i initially wanted to just create a guy who is so so sucks and who would make a good antagonist in a possible story for vitali and i was like. why not let it be his own father. but then i got attached to him and also started projecting a lot more from my own family on vitali's family so he's a bit less sucks now
vitali was supposed to be my corpo v! i initially wanted to make a v for every separate lifepath but that eventually got boring to me. also because i just couldn't create a nomad v :( my brain didn't want to stick with a design </3 so then vitali became a fixer instead! i did keep the frankfurt incident as part of his backstory but it's merged with the events of my own canon at this point so it's a lot more complicated than it all is in game but that's where all of the fun is at >:^)
🏊 SWIMMING - can they swim? or are they afraid of water? how well do they swim? how do they feel about swimming in the ocean?
matvey can swim but he really does not want to do that. it's been years since he's last had to swim and there's a big chance he would just drown anyway because of the time that has passed and also because he's an old man. he is terrified of the ocean and would rather die than swim in there
vitali can swim too but also hasn't done it in a while and he too would like to just not do it if he still has a choice. the ocean does freak him out a little and he's also been having recurring nightmares about drowning, so he wouldn't necessarily like swimming in the ocean but also if he has to he will do it. but preferably not
📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?
matvey has a very controlled and low voice naturally, but because of his corpo history he knows that he sometimes talks too quiet for people to hear him so he has a more "performative" voice i guess?? that's at a bit louder volume. he doesn't yell a lot at all and doesn't like having to do so. he doesn't have a very heavy accent but it's also not subtle, it's woven into his speech nicely where you can clearly hear he's not american but you would need to pay close attention to fully pick up on What kind of accent it is if that makes sense. back at arasaka he mostly spoke with a fake american accent
vitali has a pretty similar voice but a lot more rough and there's a sharper edge to it. he doesn't speak as quiet as his father and tends to lean a bit more to the louder side, but that's mostly due to the fact 1) he's hard of hearing and 2) he tends to find himself in environments that require him to talk a little louder for people to hear him. his accent is heavier than his father's and despite him also having used a fake american accent at arasaka, he's had to do it for way less time so it didn't get baked into his regular speech at all. he struggles pronouncing some words and because of that tends to talk a bit slow to enunciate properly so people understand what he's trying to say; when he's more comfortable around the people he's with he will do that less, causing some words to get strung together a lot more but if you've known him for a while you get used to it :^)
🚲 BICYCLE - can they ride a bike? what do they remember from learning to ride a bicycle?
matvey can NOT ride a bicycle for his life. he would eat shit and die. and i think that's funny and that's all i have to say on it
vitali can in fact ride a bike because mikhail taught him to do that when they were young :^) he mostly remembers riding directly into a parked car and breaking one of its taillights that way LMAO
🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?
matvey was supposed to die at first. the original idea for the broker arc was that vitali would end up having to kill his own father but i eventually decided that it's entirely against vitali's character to have him do that so then i decided that matvey gets to live :^) and THEN i decided that he's going to have a divorce with nadya and then he's having a slow burn enemies to lovers fake dating situation going on with viktor. the demons he was fighting were bisexuality all along
vitali was supposed to be a very serious corpo guy at first who is a very strict fixer with very high-end gigs only, for the best of the best mercs. i changed this to make him a more down to earth kinda guy because his family might be like what i first wanted him to be, but he's NOTHING like that; he wants to help people, he cares for his mercs, he keeps them safe both on gigs as well as outside all of that and at the end of the day he's just some guy and that's what makes him so interesting to me. and it just is a lot more fun to me than what i initially had in mind
💖 SPARKLING HEART - are they a subtle or a showy lover?
matvey is a subtle lover but mostly because of nadya. when they got together, their parents did not agree at all and they had to put on a performance for them to be allowed to be together which kinda just stuck to the rest of their relationship as well. nadya no longer liked being physically close to her husband and didn't allow him to love her in the way he had once loved her; because of that, he's very hesitant with showing any kind of affection and he's a lot more reserved than he once used to be
vitali is also pretty reserved but that's mainly because he does separate his professional and his personal life when on the workfloor. he will occasionally hold vincent's waist if they're standing beside each other or kiss his cheek or hold his hand while they walk (or let vincent hold on to his arm; that's usually what they do) but he prefers to do stuff like that when they're not at work or just simply chilling at home :^) he can get VERY clingy when he's sleepy and comfy at home
#asks#hibernationsuit#ask:matvey#ask:vitali#oc asks#THANK U. SORRY THIS GOT SUPER LONG#i love doing this for these two together because it really shows their similarities and differences. it makes me insane#the broker fic has changed my brain chemistry forever i'm so serious
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@bittermachine sent the deep fic writer asks list to me in Discord and asked a whole bunch of them. I figured I'd go ahead and post my answers on tumblr in case anyone else was interested! And of course anyone is free to ask more from the list as well.
6. what's the hardest part of the writing process for you?
Getting out a first draft. Once that's there the revision and editing process is a breeze, even if involved. But actually getting words down is sometimes an extremely painful task.
7. how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?
If I don't receive feedback or support I'll drift along from project to project when my brain decides it's ready to write something. If people vocally support something I've written and say they want more, that tends to get me thinking about what 'more' would look like and sort of guide my interest that way for my next projects.
9. what's your writing process like?
Sit at computer, open Scrivener (which I have customized to look like the AO3 theme I read in, Reversi), open a cherry Bing energy drink, and start writing. From there I tend to have two modes: distracted, where I can't focus for shit and end up tabbing out often to scroll tumblr or twitter so I don't feel like exploding when the words won't come, or hyperfocused, where I'll sit down and write literally all night or until the fic draft is finished. There is no in-between for me.
10. how has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood?
I've used it to vent heavy feelings before back when I was writing for the Homestuck fandom, but it's also helped me find a fair few friends I wouldn't have found otherwise. It's a good hobby for connecting with people.
12. What’s your perfect environment to create/write?
Cool but not cold, quiet or with instrumental music that fits the vibe and doesn't distract me, no strong smells unless they're sweet (I'm very sensitive to smells), a dim or dark room, a second screen for research, an ergonomic keyboard and a comfy chair, nobody else around, and an endless supply of Bing energy drinks.
Yes, it specifically has to be Bings. I hate the taste of most energy drinks and tea and coffee but the original cherry Bings are a delightful way to perk me up and help me focus. They're also just part of the routine at this point - I think I pavlov'd myself into only being able to write with them or something, back in my Homestuck days. Something else cold and carbonated can at least help me focus in a pinch if I don't have Bings though - it's really the cold bite and the carbonation that help me more than the caffeine.
13. Do you take pride in your writing, or does it embarrass you? Why?
Pride, of course. Not in the sense that I think I'm better than anybody else, but why would I spend the time creating and sharing something I wasn't happy with? Also I have no shame. Live life free of cringe and judgment.
14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way?
Sometimes, and usually in what I guess would be a negative way. Either "wow they write so much, how do they do that?" or "wow, this is so good, I wish I could be that good/write like this." But then at other times I'll come across fic that's wildly ooc or has terrible grammar/spelling/formatting and I'll be like "but at least I'm not *this* bad" and click back out lmao. So it probably balances out.
Occasionally I'll see a fic that's just terrible or has a concept I don't vibe with that has more views/kudos/whatever than mine but in that scenario I tend to just lament for the state of fandom nowadays (old man shakes fist at cloud meme: "so this dreck is what's popular nowadays!?") But I'm aware comparing yourself to others is a bad habit so I try not to do it in either direction, it just manages to sneak through sometimes anyways.
17. What’s the best engagement/interaction/feedback you’ve received from someone who’s read your work?
Hard question but probably the fact that a few of the people that subscribed to me back during my Homestuck years read my Genshin fic even if they don't play Genshin. I personally don't tend to read fic without the context of the series because the interest just isn't there for me, so it's a huge compliment to me that someone would like my writing enough to stick with me through a fandom change.
18. Do you only write when you’re inspired, or do you try and sit down at specific times and write no matter what?
I usually only write when inspired because it's like pulling teeth otherwise, and not worth the time and frustration. It's a hobby, not an obligation. But by 'inspired' I really mean 'focused' because there are plenty of times where I have inspiration but I'm running up against a mental wall when I try to write.
I've been having this issue recently trying to write Foul Eggacy 3 - the whole thing is plotted and outlined, I have 2.5 scenes written, but for the past few weeks every time I sit down to try to write I only get a few paragraphs written even if I sit all night because I just can't focus and the words won't come easily. I'm trying to push myself more than I usually would on this one because I'd like to release it before Baizhu's release in 3.6, but I won't force it. I'm only going to release it before then if it's done and I'm satisfied with it. I want to get it right the first time.
19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?
I don't really think there's such a thing as an 'ideal' fic but. I guess the dream would be to someday be able to write a longfic of people falling for each other convincingly, with good pacing, a believable scenario, and the hottest fucknasty sex as a payoff for sticking with it. It doesn't have to have much in the way of 'plot' as long as the character and relationship development is good.
I'm just not great at longfic because of my focus and memory issues; I often have to reread what I've already written even in a one-shot fic if it gets too long, to make sure dialogue and tone stays similar throughout a fic and I didn't forget anything. Something like the Foul Eggacy series is already pushing my boundaries since I have an entire AU constructed for it, so I've had to reread the first two fics multiple times while outlining/writing 3 to remind myself what I've already revealed to readers, catch the foreshadowing I dropped, etc. And of course lots of note-checking! But the bigger the work or series, the harder it gets. I have massive respect for people that write good longfic because of my own difficulties with it.
20. What’s the greatest gift you’ve gotten from your writing?
Friends and a degree of confidence! I've met a *lot* of people over the years through my writing, people that came to follow me on tumblr after reading my fic or talking to me in comments, some of who ended up being good enough friends that we talk regularly on Discord.
As for the confidence, I certainly can't say writing fic has 'fixed' my confidence issues, but getting even a kudos, much less a nice comment or a reblog/retweet/rec of my work, really boosts my mood. And it's nice to feel like putting fic out there is giving back to fandoms that pull me through tough times. Like yeah, I'm sure there are plenty of writers I'll never be as good as - but that's fine. As long as I'm putting a net positive into the world with my fics, helping someone get through a bad day by reading about their fave being wrung dry, that's enough for me.
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WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2020 A site that had one of his email addresses and a certain password connected to it was breached so we went and changed any account associated with that password regardless of the email connected to it.
Yesterday I had a sore throat for several hours but whatever it was is gone now.
Went back to Duolingo and started dabbling in their Indonesian course. I only took a couple of lessons so far, but it seems fairly straightforward enough. They sure make their plurals easy by simply repeating the word.
After I drank some wine yesterday, I started to feel a touch anxious even though it was short-lived and began to wonder if maybe there was a connection after all. I did read that one of the things that can cause anxiety is alcohol along with caffeine and other things. I’ll be sure to drink closer to bedtime when I do.
I’m both surprised and appalled by Florida lifting all their restrictions simply because they ran out of patience waiting for a vaccine. So you get tired of having to wear masks, stay home, social distance and then you say, WTF? I give up. Then go about life as if all is wonderful and normal? Well, we’re not quite there yet so when their death count rises, hopefully they’ll go back to using their brains and wait for a vaccine. Hopefully, there are some people smart enough not to give up wearing masks no matter what restrictions may be lifted.
Had some fun dreams for a change but I don’t remember much of them. Just having a couple of rats living loose in the house that ran up to me eager for attention when I got home one evening from wherever. I picked up a tan-colored one and cuddled and kissed it before going to feed them.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2020 Been having an interesting day full of adventures. We went out walking at the crack of dawn and then I threw a swai fillet in the oven as we set out to change the pig’s cage while it cooked.
However, things took longer than planned since he went out to find maggots all over the garbage bin for the second time.
“Ugh, I’m a fucking idiot at times!” I told him, LOL. I forgot to spray the bin like I do every week.
So he had to stop and take care of that.
I was trimming Rockefeller’s nails when I noticed a wet spot at the base of the dishwasher. My first thought was that the dishwasher was leaking but I hadn’t done dishes in a couple of days. That’s when it hit me that it was the sink. So I opened the cabinet under the sink and found the pipe had detached from a joint.
Referring to the guy who came to fix our clogged drain I said, “Damn that dumb cock for not tightening the drain!”
“No, it was me,” Tom said.
So his idiot wife has been busting his ass all morning about him being that “dumb cock.” LOL, he should have been checking the pipe more often and I should have sprayed. He may get a rubber gasket to seal it with if he doesn’t just place a block of some kind beneath it. A rubber gasket would probably work well. That’s what seals the door of our front loader.
Then, it was a damn good thing we decided to run out to Rite Aid after dealing with the maggots and leak because after being distracted by those things, he saw that he forgot he had the water running in front. Water was running down the street, and had we not gone out, the water would have probably ended up damn near wrapping around the circle until someone knocked on the door to alert us to it.
Got a couple of single-serve bottles of Merlot by Barefoot and a case of Sutter Home’s white zinfandel and rosé, each with four small bottles. Haven’t tried Sutter’s version of rosé yet.
I was surprised when someone said they were envious that I can enjoy wine freely because one glass puts them in a bad mood or makes them sleepy and wake up groggy. It doesn’t put me in a bad mood or cause me to wake up groggy, but it does sometimes make me sleepy. I would definitely never drink a glass of wine before I knew I was going to work out, go out anywhere, or tackle household chores.
I totally see what Fitbit means when they suggest mixing things up and having more calories than usual once a week since the body gets used to having the same amount. I thought I was having between 1500-2000 cals a day before I started tracking, and maybe I was when I was going into menopause because a woman is pretty hungry at that time. But it taught me that I range between 1100-1500 with 1300 being my average. Yesterday, however, I binged big time on both healthy food and not. Once a month, if even that, I hit around 2000 calories. Yesterday, I must have had 2300-2400. I ate a lot but mostly high-calorie foods. It’s amazing I didn’t feel sick or get heartburn or anything like that. My heart never raced due to all the sugar or anything.
Anyway, the point is that I totally expected to be up a pound or two for stuffing the shit out of myself like I did but nope. I’m up just two-tenths of a pound. I’ll indulge once a week or so. It’s fun to do every now and then and to get stuff I don’t normally get. All those chocolate-covered cherries were divine! I’m just glad I’m not as hungry as I was before periods were due or when I was in perimenopause. Now I can eat fewer calories. Not few enough to lose weight but enough to keep from gaining.
Most days I will start off with a small avocado and either a kiddy yogurt or cottage cheese. Then I’ll have two meals during the day that consist of one piece of meat (chicken, pork, fish) and veggies. In between, I snack on veggies, grapes or berries. Sometimes I might add something like soup. I try to really limit my processed food intake. I won’t let myself have more than one processed meal a day whether it’s a can of Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, a frozen dinner, etc.
Those ACV shots with turmeric and honey are absolutely horrible! Definitely not getting those again. I’ll just pour a dab into my sparkly waters from a bottle of unfiltered ACV. It’s much cheaper that way anyway.
Yesterday, I had mild pains in my chest and back but I’m guessing it was either due to the smoke (today is clear) or I pulled a muscle on the Bowflex.
The shower project is delayed because he found he needed additional parts that he ordered. They won’t be here for a little over a week, though.
I’m now officially registered to vote! And no, I’m not doing jury duty. I swear anytime I get calls for that is when I wish I’d never been vindicated.
Sipping the rosé now. Meh. A little on the dry side and there’s a tang to it I don’t really care for.
Didn’t ignore Aly yesterday even though I had planned to. I noticed she messaged me when she should be in school, so I asked why she was home. Apparently, the virus hit her class. She got tested yesterday but doesn’t think she has the virus. I hope not! Anyway, now she’s teaching via Zoom.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2020 I should change yesterday’s “overly emotional” to “moody” when I was describing character traits that turn me off. If you lose a loved one, for example, of course you’re going to be overly moody. It’s people with intense and regular mood swings that are beyond the norm that gets to me.
Ended up getting my usual half-hour of exercise yesterday. I just did it on the skier instead of going out. It’s just that I hate to sit still for too long, tired or not.
The fucking park was having a concert as they tend to a few times a year but fortunately, we couldn’t hear it inside the house. What a stupid, dumbass thing to do with the virus still going around and over a million global deaths now. I’m sure there were some people wearing masks but who knows if they kept a good enough distance from each other.
I’m appalled that England is protesting their lockdown and calling COVID-19 a hoax. I may not be the brightest person on Earth but it never ceases to amaze me just how stupid so many people are. I’m seriously embarrassed for and by those dumb enough to believe it’s a hoax. Because people really have nothing better to do than to create some fake virus so people can be stuck at home and can fuck up the economy, right?
Another anxiety-free day. I don’t know why but I know I appreciate it. For a while, I was wondering if Sutter Home wines had anything to do with it because it started around the time, I decided to try them. I’m glad they don’t, though, because I like them better than Barefoot except for their version of Merlot. Barefoot’s merlot is sharper, I guess would be the appropriate word to describe it, so I like theirs better. Even though that’s one of my favorites, I’m staying away from it for the sake of not staining my teeth.
When we get groceries delivered, I’m going to be trying individual ACV shots with turmeric and honey that I can just drop right into my bottles of sparkling water without having to measure anything. It’s a little more expensive this way but I’m curious to try it at least once.
Saw these really cool-looking toothbrushes on Amazon but I’m not going to try them until we get settled. I have a child-size mouth and they have these kids’ dental trays that have brushes in them that automatically brush the teeth on both sides at once. They also have dual-headed brushes I may also try. As a tech fanatic, I love to try new technology and ways of doing things.
Since we took it easy yesterday, today is going to be the day we try to tackle the old shower in the second bathroom and see how hard it is to switch out.
The freeway is loud this morning so I wouldn’t be surprised if the planes were annoying as well. No place is 100% perfect nor 100% imperfect, but we will have a quieter place someday. We will.
It was my turn to have a Calms Forte nightmare. A young woman in her early twenties or so was chasing me with a knife for some reason. I ran toward a busy street with lots of traffic and tried to get someone to stop and help me. It seemed no one wanted to intervene, but a bus did slow down long enough for the guy driving to yell at me to get out of traffic. The dream ended there and then it was off to dream about hearing sawing and hammering every morning at 4 AM. I don’t know where we were living but it turned out to be a young woman who made crafts that she sold. They were these little figurines. I don’t know if she lived attached to us or just near us.
“Do you do this every morning?” I asked, and I wasn’t the least bit thrilled to learn she did.
The rest of the dreams weren’t enough to make sense of. I’m not as tired today since I slept longer but I sure woke up a lot. Twice I got up to pee and I woke up a few other times as well.
It smells a little smokey out there now. When it’s mild it’s actually pleasant and reminds me of incense.
“Those who see the world and the people within it as all black and white (all good or all evil) are doomed to never see the beauty that shades of gray can bring.”
Aly tweeted this on her other Twitter account and right away I suspected it was because I made some negative tweets in regard to people’s stupidity and my lack of faith in anything up there actually giving a shit about people.
She messaged me about trying to keep busy and not dwell on a few things. Then she edited out the part about dwelling on things and I wondered if it was because she remembered that I hate it when people are vague like that or if she decided she didn’t want me asking about it.
She later tweeted, “Reminding myself that giving people power over my emotions does me no good. My open mind is a good thing.”
She was home alone all day yesterday, so someone pissed her off. Not sure if it was me or someone else but you know what? If it’s me she’s talking about and she doesn’t have the balls to come out and say so, then that’s her problem. Is it really me, though, or am I just being paranoid? shrugs I’m not a mind-reader so I can’t say for sure. I can only say that if she doesn’t have it in her to step forward if she’s got any problem with me, then she deserves whatever negative emotions she’s feeling. That’s the thing about her, though; she is a bit of an emotional person. Okay, so maybe more than a bit. She’s definitely more sensitive for my comfort but I’ve dealt with much worse.
When I first got up, I noticed I couldn’t access her Twitter account and I thought Damn! She figured out that I knew about the account and deleted it. Turns out she just changed handles, so she was definitely online yesterday even though I didn’t hear from her anywhere.
Molly tweeted something about finding it interesting that some people block her when she hasn’t been on Twitter much. I wonder if she thinks Aly blocked her.
Aly sometimes has days where she doesn’t check in with me and today is my turn to skip a day after being very consistent. IDK, I still adore her as a friend and all that. It’s just that there’s this underlying sense of dishonesty I’m sensing, and she has been known to lie enough times in the past. I sense she holds back on too many things when I’m supposed to be a close enough friend that she should be able to confide in just like I’ve shared many things with her.
Fitbit says I should be down to at least 154.8 but instead, I’m 155.8, up about half a pound from last week. Again, what should work for most people doesn’t always apply to those with certain medical conditions. Goes to prove I wasn’t imagining it when different types of diets I’d try would fail. Nor are those who also claim their bodies don’t respond to diet and exercise kidding. The only two noticeable problems I have with being and remaining this way are that it makes running harder and affects my range of mobility. But these things haven’t killed me yet. Besides, I’m nearly 55, not 25. I’ll log my food for one more week, then just focus on keeping active. That much I can do.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2020 I’ve never been one to be afraid to voice my thoughts and opinions. In doing so I’ve found that those that accept me as I am stick around and those that don’t take off, leaving me with the people that truly matter. With that being said I’ll just say that if what they say about Amy Coney-Barret is true, I really hope she doesn’t end up taking Ginsburg’s place! It isn’t what she believes. It’s what she may do with those beliefs that have me a little concerned. If you’re a hater who wants to control people and strip women of their rights, then you shouldn’t be in a position of power.
I’ll never get one’s hatred for their own kind. Okay, I can see having ill feelings toward the opposite sex if you don’t like the way they tend to behave and because it’s easy to hate (or at least not like) what we don’t get and can’t relate to. But how can a woman hate other women? So much that she would gladly strip them of their bodily rights if she could and from making personal choices that should be up to her only?
Kind of tired today because I only slept for 5 hours. We’re both going to take a day off from working out which is good to do a couple of times a week anyway. We saw one skunk yesterday, but it skittered across the street and out of sight.
My right eye had a blurry spot that flickered for about 20 minutes yesterday. I’m not sure why, though but that has happened before. I wasn’t in a bad mood of any kind so who knows? I also didn’t have any anxiety yesterday, yet I have no idea why any more than I can be sure why I sometimes do. Still think there are likely many factors because unfortunately, the world just isn’t as black and white as we might sometimes wish it was. Sure would make some things easier if it was but it’s often hard to tell what’s what.
I’ve been asked what my answers were on some of my polls. The few in particular are whether or not I believe there’s an afterlife, nothing, reincarnation or anything else.
I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I’d like to think there’s nothing because this life is enough, and that theory makes the most sense scientifically. I’d say the least likely is reincarnation because of the way our experiences and memories are so much a part of what makes us who we are. If you don’t have the pathway to those memories, then it really isn’t “you.”
My favorite wines are Merlot, Zinfandel, Moscato, Rosé, and Pinot Grigio.
With few exceptions, I’m mostly anti-friend-mixing because I found that that can cause problems and leave one feeling awkward if you have a falling-out with a mutual friend.
No, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being choosy about who we’re friends with. Everybody has preferences for everything. We have different foods we like and dislike, different movies, different music, different colors, so why not different personalities? I think it’s okay to not want a particular friend because of any particular trait whether it’s something most people would avoid or that isn’t necessarily a bad thing at all since there are plenty of others who will accept them. As they say, there are other fish in the sea, and I believe this applies to friendships as well as relationships.
I mostly admire those who are sound of mind, intelligent, honest, and with a good sense of humor. If you’re dishonest, contradictory, overly emotional, and easily offended by every little thing, I’ll likely avoid you.
I continued tracking because I was curious to see if that strange person in Reno returned or not. I didn’t see her yesterday at all on my tracker and figured she either left PB or was hiding. But then I saw her and found a message from her apologizing for “going stupid,” and insisting she’s honestly not obsessed with me, and I apologized for my part. I shouldn’t have pulled the prank I pulled, and I definitely went stupid myself, LOL. So I guess all is well there. :-)
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2020 Yesterday was a totally shitty day with anxiety. I also felt a little depressed and frustrated. Mostly just anxious and frustrated. So much for thinking I’d finally beaten it. I eventually took half a Benadryl so it wouldn’t knock me out, but it didn’t do anything for my anxiety. Then I took the other half and while it didn’t knock me out, it still didn’t help much. And of course, I’m still at a total loss as to just what all the culprits could be. He thinks it’s a combination of things like me stressing over my upcoming appointments and hormonal and that a fresh start in Florida will really do me good. I know I have some terrifying memories attached to this house but nah, it’s mine for life whatever it’s caused by. Whether it’s a combination of the above causes or a medical disorder I acquired, it’s never going away completely. Just like I’ve had to do this last half a decade since it began, I have to know and accept this whether I like it or not. It’s a part of me just like my ear/TMJ is, my weight, and other things I’ve had to make peace with. Driving myself crazy over what can’t be changed would be as futile and as pointless as these protesters marching to change pigs that will never change. They are the law. Like it or not, right or wrong, they can make or break it at will. Always has been that way, always will be. So why lower yourself to harming innocent people, spreading the virus, and disrupting so many things just to change nothing but perhaps how people see you, and not for the better?
Anyway, since I’ll probably feel like shit in another five hours or so since it still tends to kick in towards the middle of my day, I’m just enjoying the calm while it lasts. It’s nice and quiet too. I still hear some loud vehicles in the daytime and the daily buzz of landscaping. Can’t wait to get away from that shit in Florida although I do expect I’ll still hear plenty of power tools, projects, and motorcycles, especially before we get land. The only place I would be willing to put up with noise is no place we could ever afford and that’s on some kind of peninsula or island.
Last night I was thinking, oh no! I better send the termites those journal excerpts now so I don’t have to worry about the in-state thing which is why the black bitch couldn’t get me in Auburn as hard as she no doubt tried to and why it was easy for her to seek legal revenge on me in Maricopa being that we were still in the state.
But then I said, nah. Nothing I ever have or will send them will be even remotely illegal not to mention the fact that I’ve learned to ignore subpoenas should I ever get one for whatever. I would still rather wait until she can’t get postal mail to us, even though I understand the pigs could find out where we were any time they wanted.
I started to wonder if Alyssa hasn’t changed her profile picture in over a year because of me but when I was combing through her public stuff, I saw that she did go a couple of years one time. I think that as a doctor, she just doesn’t have much time for social media and even less once she added a kid to the scene. Still guessing she’s never read/listened to any of my messages other than maybe the first few. Then I was probably put on ignore.
Got that swai fish I wanted to try, and I really like it. Too bad it’s not so good for you like most things we like. Yeah, the more we like something, the worse it is for us. It has a nice soft buttery texture that melts right in your mouth.
We went out walking yesterday morning and will probably do the same today. First I gotta hit the shower and get the laundry going.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2020 Guess who’s signing in on an anxious note? Sure wish Tom was right in thinking it’s hormonal and that it will go away for good someday but after half a decade, I have no reason to think it will. I could take Children’s Benadryl now and maybe get rid of it, but I would prefer to go walking in a few hours as opposed to napping and feeling groggy. Yeah, that’s the problem with things that help with anxiety. They eventually stop helping and they make you tired. So that’s why I haven’t sought treatment from a new psychiatrist. I know there’s such a thing as hormonal therapy but I wouldn’t know where to begin with that and don’t want to be spending more time and especially more money on appointments and medications that may or may not work and that also may or may not backfire on me in a bad way.
I forgot to say that a few days ago, Tom said two or three motorcycles that were really loud came blasting through as I was sleeping. It’s a miracle they didn’t wake me up but maybe they didn’t go by the bedroom. They could have entered the circle from the other direction. It would still be pretty loud, though, so adding brown noise on Alexa was a smart idea I should have done from the get-go. It’s just that we didn’t get her until 2015. Either way. We WILL have a quiet place someday. I’m done with noisy places and that shit definitely stops here with this place.
No problem taking Calms Forte and no problem from what I can see with my schedule for labs on the 5th and Doc A on the 19th. I don’t know yet about my appointments in February and March but fortunately, I’ll get some time off from having to worry about that.
I’ll not only have to have Doc A look at the spot on my upper arm that’s a few inches above the elbow, but I now have one on the shoulder as well. I’ve had at least half a dozen of these and they usually heal on their own. I don’t know if they have the potential to be serious or not. When you get older, things start showing up on your skin, so I don’t know.
Did my nails earlier and what a god-awful brand MWellew is! They’re not only way too big for me but just a pain in the ass to work with. It definitely seems that the lighter-colored sparkly ones are easier to see through. These aren’t transparent but more like opaque so they’re still acceptable. They don’t look bad, just not great. They go from light blue to light green to light pink but since I cut my nails, I mostly only see pink on my thumbs. It really is easier working with nail strips that come on a sheet instead of individual nails that are attached to a strip. They’re easier to size up attached to strips but harder to peel and work with in general.
So no more MW, Maity’s or Girzzur. Tailaimei, Augoog and Wokoto are the best so far.
Had a dream I had to pee so bad but every time I would park my ass on the toilet, my bladder refused to let go of its golden goodies.
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2020 We went to Rite Aid yesterday and on the way to and from there, as we passed Cripple Creek, I looked into the greenbelt but didn’t see any signs of life at all. So there are either not that many of them or they’re deep within the brush and well hidden.
At the store, I got lentil chips, a case of Moscato, and a case of Zinfandel.
Aly gave me a hint of where she’s living, saying she was close to a zoo, and I guessed South 13th Street because she mentioned traffic noise and it appeared to be a busy street from what Google Maps showed me. She said I was close. She’s actually on Vinton Street close to 10th Street in downtown Omaha. I’ve narrowed it down to two possible blocks she’s living on and while it would be nice to see pictures inside and out, I’m really not that curious. I don’t have anything to send her at the moment so it’s not like I need her exact address. If I wanted to surprise her with whatever I could send it to her parents. She and Cam will be moving out around Halloween and into a new place in Elkhorn.
My last two polls received answers I would expect from Aly. However, they didn’t come at the same time. In fact, one of them came while she was working, and she made like it was very inconvenient to go online from there. I guess not being there full-time means she doesn’t have as much in the way of breaks, but I wouldn’t think it would be impossible either, so I don’t know. If it wasn’t her and it wasn’t random, someone else is following me that knows what I look like because, in one of the polls, I asked if they thought my hair looked better shorter or longer if they knew what I looked like.
Marie? Molly? Someone else? I am connected to a couple of PBers there, but I don’t know if they’ve ever seen pictures of me. If they have, I would think it would only be with shoulder-length hair because that’s what I’ve had for a while now.
So much for hanging up the tracking for a while. I’m too addicted to doing that. It’s fun. Predictable usually, but fun.
Aly asked if I had nightmares when using Calms Forte as she does. I don’t remember if I took it when I had the nightmare about being alone and broke but I took it last night and the only dream I remember was moving into my first childhood home that was next to my maternal grandparents. My grandparents were still alive and still living next door, too. I walked up to the side of their place and peeked into a window that didn’t really exist and could see into the living room. Sunlight shone through from the front of the house and I knew they weren’t home. I figured they were at their place of business. Their place of business, whatever that was, was just as big as their home and I thought to myself in the dream, wow, that’s a lot of space for just two people.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2020 We got a letter from the park saying that there was a homeless camp set up in the green belt between a part of the park and a regular neighborhood called Cripple Creek and that there was nothing they could do about it because that land wasn’t owned by anyone. They did add coils of razor wire along the base and tops of the fence that surrounds the RV parking lot because they were breaking in there and stealing things.
Good thing we didn’t get the house at the end of Daisy then! I always said that would be the best location in the park but not with a bunch of bums within arm’s reach. So that brief but definite whiff of cigarette smoke I caught as I was walking by the RVs early one morning wasn’t my imagination. I knew it was a strange time and location to be smelling cigarette smoke. Bet it was from one of the homeless people and they had to have been inside the RV parking lot and close to where I was walking because strong nose or not, there’s no way it would have wafted over to me from the creek itself.
Tom and I agreed that neither of us would go out alone after dark (we like to work out together anyway). If we were alone, we’re in pretty good shape and could probably handle one of them. But certainly not groups of them even though I’ve never actually seen anyone hanging around the park at night, not that I’m looking out the windows at that time either. I may only step out to dump trash but that’s it.
I’ll never doubt Dixie again, though! She swears they’re also in the golf course and that they’ve lurked about her place a number of times.
I’m glad to say that I’m not only perfectly calm today so far but for the first time ever, I found something that takes the anxiety away… Children’s Benadryl. Ah, but according to what I read, this will only work a few times and then it will stop having that effect. So much for thinking it wouldn’t knock me out, though, because it did. I ended up napping for an hour, but I love taking naps, especially at night when it’s quieter. I seldom am able to nap, though, even when I’m tired.
In one day my weight went from 155.2 to 156.6 even though I’ve been sticking to the Fitbit plan. It’s no surprise, though. I just don’t lose weight. My body has to be holding onto the weight for a reason, though, and I can only guess it’s due to my thyroid. No biggie, though.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2020 This month has been the worst for my anxiety so far this year and I have no idea why. Just like half a decade ago, I’m asking the same damn questions. Hormonal? Medication? Because I’ve got labs and a doctor’s appointment coming up next month? I’m guessing it’s a combination of the three but there are some things about the medication that don’t make sense. Like how I could go 11 weeks without having to skip, but this time it’s only been about a month.
I skipped this morning too, but I still feel wound up so something else is going on. If it’s hormone-related, how many more fucking years is this going to go on? I guess I’m going to have to accept the fact that I’m going to suffer on and off for the rest of my life. I’ll probably not eat for the last few hours of my day and take my medication tonight. No sense in letting my TSH rise too much if I’m still going to feel anxious anyway.
Speaking of suffering, I was watching a heartbreaking YouTube video about this older couple in which the husband was dying of cancer. My heart broke for the woman who had to accept that her husband was never coming home again, and it broke even more for the guy who appeared to be suffering and in so much pain. It burns me up to know that people are so inhumane when it comes to other people, yet they’ll do anything to alleviate the suffering of a dog. Yes, dogs get treated better than humans more often than not. I still don’t understand why there isn’t a Death with Dignity Act nationwide. Why let so many people suffer so needlessly? I just don’t get that. If I was that woman and that was my husband, and if the doctors and nurses wouldn’t do anything for him, I swear I’d yank the pillow from under his head and smother him with it to put him out of his misery if that’s what I had to do.
Naturally, every time I feel the faintest of cramps down there, I worry about the possibility of uterine cancer. I definitely have risk factors for it too. If I was ever told I had terminal cancer I would kill myself the next day. Why let myself go through such extreme pain and suffering with doctors and nurses who refuse to help me? I know that they don’t get to decide the laws and all that but how could you not want to do the right thing if you saw someone suffering like that? If the law said we all had to jump off a bridge, would we do that? No, of course not. Sometimes you have to do what’s right. Not what any crazy law says.
The good thing is that other than occasional light cramps and those spots I caught, I really don’t have symptoms of uterine cancer, although I would think most of the ones I read wouldn’t happen until it was pretty advanced. I hate to even think of the immense pain one must endure dying of cancer in such a sensitive area! Any cancer would be painful to die from. But I would think uterine, stomach and lung cancer would be some of the worst. “Do no harm” is something doctors swear by and consider their lifelong motto but allowing a terminally ill patient to suffer unnecessarily to such a degree IS doing harm.
Anyway, I’ve tried everything to help myself and nothing I’ve done so far has ever helped when I’m really feeling anxious. Not Stacey’s tapping, drinking, praying to a God that likely doesn’t exist, pressing acupuncture points, nothing. I’m not OMG-I-want-to-die kind of anxious but it’s bad enough at times. Took a children’s Benadryl to see if that helps because even if it makes me drowsy, it shouldn’t knock me out this early in my day.
Even though it does seem to help with energy, I think I’ll take a break from my multivitamin for a while just to see if there’s a connection.
I couldn’t find anything to suggest Ashkenazi women have whackier hormones than others, but I’ll definitely ask my doctor next month how late in life one could have hormonal fluctuations that can make you anxious. I’m still hot flashing as well, especially when it’s warm, and we’ve definitely been warm. In the 80s and 90s. We went out walking at 77° and it had only dropped to 75° by the time we got back.
Anyway, I’m trying not to dwell on anxiety, what-ifs, death, dying and suffering and all that dark shit.
My weight fell into the low end of what Fitbit said it would. I’m going to keep logging and monitoring calories even though I don’t expect to lose any more than a pound or two because it’s a great way to ensure that I don’t gain. It’s looking less and less likely that I’ll ever have to worry about that so that’s nice to know. He’s lost 7 pounds so far.
We registered to vote. It was easy for him because he has a driver’s license, so he didn’t have to print anything out. I had to print and sign a form and mail it in. We’re both going to vote by mail even though Biden’s gonna win this state easily.
Tom said he felt a twinge of sadness when he saw Bob in Virginia’s SUV drive by, but Bob and Virginia weren’t in it. A woman and a man were in it instead. We’re guessing she gave it to one of her kids and their spouse. It would be great if they moved in there and would take over the house and remain there after Virginia is gone. All their kids certainly have to the old enough to live here by now. I doubt it, though. I still wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the house went on the market by the end of the year. She can’t live alone, and I don’t know that her kids are in a position to just take over the house.
When it comes to our future house, I’ve always been a modern fanatic. But I’ve learned that if you can’t afford anything within 3 years old, then older is better because then you can really customize it to your tastes. If you get something that’s semi-modern, it may be harder to modernize because it just wouldn’t be as feasible to remove countertops that are only 10 to 15 years old and not exactly in bad shape for something you find more attractive. I really want to see the house, wherever it ends up being, as a work of art and really make it what we want it to be from top to bottom. I don’t want someone’s acceptable enough flooring or carpet. I want our own. It’s what we’re going to have to live in for the rest of our lives so we may as well go all out to really make it ours.
Since this has turned out to be a practice house, he’s going to see if he can replace the shower faucet in the second bedroom because it’s so fucked up. As I told him, if it turns out to be easier than he thought, he’ll wish he did it seven years ago. If it’s harder, then that’s all the more reason to go for a full upgrade and leave it to the pros in the future.
The Benadryl does seem to be having a calming effect on me but from what I’ve read, it won’t last more than a few days of using the product. Yeah, all good things really do come to an end and a hell of a lot quicker than the bad things do. I’m a touch drowsy but that’s fine. I don’t have anything I need to do that’s physical for the rest of my day.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2020 The index card box for my nail stickers came today. A couple of brands were too big for it, so I trimmed them down. The ones that were in plastic wraps fit fine. It was the ones in paper wrapping that were too big. It was simple enough to trim them to fit, though.
What wasn’t simple was using the punchers to cut out shapes to decorate the box using extra nail stickers. The stickers were too thick. Instead, I remembered I had some gem stickers which I put on top of the box. Not wanting to decorate the entire box with them, I bought some colorful sparkly star stickers for $5 on Amazon.
It has a slide on top of it for standing up index cards, so standing up are the nail stickers I plan to use next. That will be pastel gradients that go from blue to green to pink.
I’m a little tired today and my sleep score reflects it as well. Lately, I’ve been scoring 87-89 but I scored 83 the last time around. Waking up with a nightmare didn’t help. I dreamed of one of the classics; being broke and alone. I didn’t know Tom in the dream and my parents were still alive. I was forced to move out of a small apartment because I ran out of money. I don’t know how I had been getting money before or why it stopped but I was facing homelessness and losing everything. I tried to call my parents as a last-ditch effort to get help, but my phone was broken. When I finally got it to work, I couldn’t remember their number or even what town they lived in. Then I ended up breaking down on the woman who answered when I called Information (do those things still exist in real life where you dial 411 for info?) and she asked me what I needed.
“Well, $120 for my meds, for starters,” I told her, even though my meds don’t cost nearly that much in reality. Levothyroxine is cheap.
I didn’t seem to be in a panic like I would have been when I was younger. It was like I figured I’d lived long enough, I tried my best, but oh well. So what if I had to kill myself to save myself from slowly starving on the streets?
I did have a good dream as well. I met Aly in a hotel somewhere. She told me I looked like I lost a lot of weight and that my face was slimmer. I told her I was so excited to finally meet her and we hugged. I thought she felt kind of bony. Then I said, “I was beginning to wonder if we would ever meet.”
Sure enough, she’s dodging me on giving me her address so I can check her out on Google Maps. I understand wanting to be somewhat private but for Cam to be so private that he won’t let her share a picture of them or anything else makes me wonder. I still don’t think she’s making him up, though. I know she’s very intelligent and has a hell of a creative mind but to keep such an intricate game going for so long doesn’t seem likely. But why such intense secrecy unless he’s got something to hide? It is still kind of weird that I never see any pictures of him, her house, and the fact that I could never find his SIL who’s supposed to be a doctor.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2020 I know without a doubt that Aly is fucking with me on the polls but that’s okay because I can play right back in my own way. She recommended doing a follow-up poll and I decided to take her up on that suggestion. I asked those who voted “never” to my journals if they did so because they’re just a random voter who voted randomly, they’re afraid of what I may say about them, or they just like to be different.
Sure enough, shortly after I put up this poll, the first two got one vote each. I would be willing to bet just about anything that Aly voted from her two Twitter accounts which is all she seems to have right now that I know of. There is a possibility that Molly’s lurking and has been doing a great job of not letting me know it, but if she was that curious about my tweets, I would think she’d be reading my journal as well yet Texas doesn’t show up on my list very often.
I put up a new poll asking if I was ugly, average or attractive and I would be willing to bet it was Aly who voted “average.”
I agree. I was above average in my youth (something that had its advantages and disadvantages) and later evolved into an ordinary, average-looking middle-aged woman.
Another poll asks if you’re against, okay with, or have no opinion about the possibility of ICE forcing hysterectomies on some illegals and immigrants and I would also be willing to bet it was Aly who voted it to be wrong.
Don’t know if it’s fake news or not but if ICE is really forcing hysterectomies on illegals and immigrants, I totally commend them. How many times have they come over here, popped kids they knew damn well they couldn’t afford, and then forced our tax dollars to have to foot the bill? Many of the people in Mexico and its surrounding Latin countries breed like rabbits and we don’t need to be responsible and to have our system burdened even more. I think that ICE sterilizing them is helping to control the population as well as saving money in the end. There are enough kids born into poverty be it because the parents are lazy or trapped in a situation beyond their control and others don’t need to deal with it for them.
Lastly, I asked if my writing ability was poor, fair, good or average. I got a vote for good and one for poor.
If it was someone who has really read my journals or stories and really thinks I’m a poor writer, I would love to know why they think that. :-) It may help me improve my writing even more.
I’ll be going to the lab on October 5th at 3:30. Unfortunately, I’m not going to get the good numbers I was hoping to get because I skipped my meds altogether yesterday. It’s unlikely I’m going to be in the single digits. On top of that, I have cut waiting time a few times in the last few weeks. Definitely feel better today. Still can’t say for sure if it’s more on wacky hormones or the meds but I’m guessing the hormones. My day started off with some lightheadedness, but I was fine afterward.
As expected, the garbage and green waste trucks woke me up, but I went right back to sleep and woke up feeling rested enough. I’m surprised the planes haven’t been bad late at night. I just hear the occasional buzz of small planes or helicopters that I always hear at night here.
I wasn’t too happy to learn that most parks in Florida have their trash picked up twice a week. But do they make a three to four-hour ordeal of it? Would the trucks get as close to the bedroom window as they do here? I hope not, but either way, it would only be for a few months.
I visited Dixie as the sun was setting and it was great seeing her even though our chats usually get me down. She never has anything positive to say, but I feel bad for her because she has no one. Goes to show that having kids doesn’t mean you’ll be taken care of in the end. She hasn’t talked to her daughter in years and her son is a drunk. She can’t take care of herself (she needs hip and knee surgery) because she���s so busy taking care of Diane. She no longer has any help with her because Diane isn’t in any kind of program these days and I guess she had a falling-out with a couple that used to help out with her. She says she hates her life and feels like she’s alive but not living. Again, I feel terrible for her and I dread the day Tom and I get to the point where we’re struggling in the way she is. I try to take people’s advice and not worry about the future since it isn’t here yet but sometimes that’s easier said than done. I worry either way. I worry about suddenly dying before he does and leaving him alone. Then I worry about how much I may suffer from whatever kills me and if there’s a possible afterlife that’s a hell of a lot worse than my worst of times on Earth. Then I worry about him suddenly dying first and being faced with having to end my life. I would have no choice but to do so even if I wouldn’t be as horribly depressed and lonely as I know I would be by the loss of him. No matter how much money we had, I’m simply not one who can just live on her own. Things were different when I had my own apartment in the 80s. I was young, relatively healthy, and yeah, things were different. They were a lot less complex in many ways. But now, it would be very difficult for me to be able to take care of myself. Especially since we wouldn’t live anywhere where there was a bus stop right outside the door. So I worry about having to end it all and possibly botching it up and also hope that those that say you go to hell for killing yourself simply say that as a deterrent.
Dixie is grateful for the fact that she has money and hopes to stay out of a nursing home because of it even though money can only go so far and get you so much. I can’t imagine ever being in a nursing home! Especially with my kind of sleep disorder. An assisted living apartment, I can kind of see, but a nursing home? No fucking way! I hate to think of Tom in one of those places as I know that many of its workers can be impatient and abusive and care a hell of a lot more about their paychecks than the patients.
Kind of sad to know that the only way to get instant housing, food and medical care, even if those last two may be a joke, is to commit a crime and end up in jail or prison.
Anyway, I don’t want to get in a funk by dwelling on “what ifs” too much, and again, the future isn’t here yet. For now, 95% of my life is great and I’m going to focus on that.
At around 8:30 yesterday evening, he and I went on the longest walk we’ve been on in quite a while around the entire perimeter of the park which is about two miles and took about 40 minutes. It was a little warm, though, at around 80°.
We went out at the same time this evening and it was a little cooler but still slightly warm for walking. I prefer it under 70 degrees. Anything under 50 and I won’t go out.
Amazingly, we saw not one single skunk on either walk.
The Maitys nail stickers arrived. There are 14 sets, half of which are dull Earth tones that are going to be covered with polish. If it wasn’t for my gorgeous, colorful set of chrome nail polish, I wouldn’t have bothered with this set since half of them are boring. I started with the lime nails. I currently have 63 sets, so they’ll last me quite a while. Tomorrow I get the index card box to store them in.
Made my own meatballs for the first time for lunch. I rolled ground beef into 1.5” balls and seasoned each one differently. Paprika wins!
For dinner, I also made a roasted chicken thigh over jasmine rice with the same veggie medley I used over the previous night’s tilapia, only I threw in a couple of small potatoes since the green beans were going bad.
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2020 Another fancy homemade cooked meal! They didn’t have swai fish, so I used the tilapia I had. I made a tilapia fillet served over brown rice which I topped with a veggie medley. I got the idea from a YouTube video where they used yellow pepper, onions and tomatoes. I only like raw tomatoes when I do have them, so instead I used a mix of green beans, broccoli, onions, mushrooms and yellow pepper.
I hope I didn’t skip my meds today for nothing because I’m still feeling a little wound up. I don’t know if it’s because of hormonal imbalances, if I’ve got more medication built up in me than I realize, or something else. One skipped dose can raise my TSH score by several points, but hopefully it won’t be too bad when it comes time for testing.
I’m also lightheaded today for some reason. That, the anxiety, and the occasional racing HR do smack of wacky hormones. At nearly 55 years of age, I wonder when and if they’re ever going to get their shit together. At least I’m only feeling wound up for 2 or 3 hours instead of half a day or all day. It’s also a different kind of anxiety. Before, I was having waves of anxiety stabbing in and out of my chest. It was like I could feel the adrenaline being squeezed out of my adrenal glands and into my chest. But this is more of a breathless feeling like I just did something really strenuous.
Tom just told me he had his own medical scare today. He was playing a video game on his computer when the edges of his vision got all fuzzy and was worried he might be having a stroke. But when he looked it up, he found that a silent migraine described his symptoms perfectly and then it went away like they said it would in about an hour.
I’m surprised I haven’t been cursed with migraines with all the other shit I’m cursed with. I would just think something up there would hate me enough to love to throw something so horrible at me. I’ve heard they’re so bad you almost wish you’d die, and some people even end up puking their guts out. Ugh, can’t imagine feeling like my head is about to explode and then puking!
Tom told me to be sure I keep wearing my Fitbit to bed and don’t get sick of it because if we’re low-income in Florida, I would qualify for SSI. That would mean I could see a sleep doctor there and use my Fitbit info to show that I have a sleep disorder and finally get the disability benefits that never should have stopped before we got married. We wish we had put in for SSI when we were struggling in Auburn, but we just never thought to do so at the time. And why would our lovely government tell us about it, right?
He keeps an eye on the prices of things and his last check of first-class plane tickets seems affordable enough as long as they don’t jack the price up. I would definitely love to go out of here first class! I hope to get more pics along the way. The last two times we changed states, there were issues with cameras and batteries and things like that. I always hated not being able to get a good shot of the breathtaking Mount Shasta.
One of the houses here is going for 260K and they haven’t even been here as long as we have. But the house is really gorgeous inside having been remodeled and all that, plus they have a hot tub in back and a view of the lake.
Decided not to edit and share my bio because it’s a lot to go through and definitely contains more shitty memories than I care to go through. I’m just going to run it through Grammarly since I wasn’t as good of a writer as I was 20 years ago and only had a spell checker back then.
Lisa was in my dreams last night. I hate it when those narcissistic crazy bitches show up in my dreams. I don’t remember much about it. I guess we were having a friendly discussion in person and then I later went back to her house to get something I forgot, and even though the house was dark when I entered it and I called out her name, I could just make out her shadow slinking silently around in the dark which made me question her sincerity.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2020 We uploaded our DNA to some sites that give you some information for free, as I mentioned, and yesterday one of them told him he has a lot of Celtic in him whereas I have a lot of Roman. There’s some East Asian in me too, which makes sense since the Jews started off there before relocating.
Doing Twitter polls has been fun. I’m just not sure what to do a poll on next.
I really miss Ask, but there’s no way I can return there because they’ll just harass me. I guess that instead of banning users who don’t ask and answer according to their standards, you get badgered with pop-ups to the point that their site is unusable. If it was a genuine glitch, it wouldn’t have gone on for years. I’ve tried creating new accounts but as soon as they know it’s me or I give answers they don’t like, the harassment begins. I’ve often wondered why they don’t just write their own questions and answers if they have a specific kind in mind they want but I guess that by messing with those they don’t want, they get others to do the work for them. I can kind of see why they would opt to make it hard for users who didn’t like to use the site as opposed to banning them, but oh well. As they say, all good things really do come to an end.
Just out of curiosity - and this will no doubt put Aly on the spot even if she kind of deserves it for lying - I asked her who she thought might have voted that I never published my journals. Does she think it’s a random voter or someone I know who’s paranoid?
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2020 So there’s a site called Genomelink that allows you to upload the raw data containing your DNA from either Ancestry or 23andMe and it tells you about a dozen different things for free. If you want something like 180 different things, it’s $14 a month. We’re not that curious right now but maybe later on we’ll do it for one month. Here’s what it told me for free.
Food & Nutrition
I tend to have an intermediate amount of Vitamin A and am less sensitive to bitter-tasting foods and have an intermediate taste sensitivity to fat.
I have a lower caffeine metabolite ratio, consume less caffeine than average, and have a higher chance of being a smoker.
I have an intermediate carbohydrate intake and am less of a protein seeker which means my body doesn’t crave protein as much.
I’m likely to have a lower consumption frequency of fried dishes as much as I love fried foods and I do indulge in them sometimes.
I have intermediate bitter alcoholic beverage consumption and a higher affinity for red wine than white.
Most of this is pretty accurate even though I couldn’t say on the Vitamin A thing. I only have one cup of coffee most days, I do like fried foods, and I prefer red wine to white. I was also once a smoker.
Personality
I’m less disagreeable and average in conscientiousness. Tom scored less disagreeable as well and I think in most ways we both are. With him, it seems that he just likes to be different but with me, well, I just don’t usually agree with popular opinion. We agree he’s more conscientious than I am. Sometimes I think he cares too much about others. It’s great to be conscientious of those we care about, but he’s too considerate when it comes to neighbors, for example, even those that have shown not to give a shit about us.
The funny part was how it said he was more extroverted than I am. Neither of us is sociable in general, but I’m at least somewhat sociable online and he isn’t even into that.
We’re both more neurotic, although he doesn’t seem to worry nearly as much as I do, and we’re both open-minded, although I think he’s more open-minded than I am. He wouldn’t care if a Muslim moved in next door, but I would be concerned since there are too many of them who prefer to settle their differences in a violent manner as opposed to just a few here and there. You don’t even have to “do” anything to them, just be different.
We both scored intermediate on being reward-dependent.
Intelligence
It says I have more acute hearing and was above average in intelligence as a child. We both got the same answer and I wonder if they tell that to everybody. I’m deaf in one ear and I think if anything I was below-average intelligence as a child, partly due to ADD and the abuse I had to endure at home. Kind of messes with your focus and concentration, you know?
Physical Traits
It says I’m average as far as a morning person goes and average with motion sickness. It also says I have a lower body fat percentage.
Not quite when you have circadian rhythm disorder and you don’t have motion sickness at all. I do have a lower body fat percentage, though, since I’m just slightly overweight. It said he had a higher body fat percentage which is accurate.
Sports
It told us both that we’re intermediate when it comes to endurance performance.
Deciding there’s no way I can do the second hardest out of the four different weight loss plans Fitbit has where you have a deficit of 500 calories a day, I decided it couldn’t hurt to at least try the easiest one with a deficit of 250 and a half a pound loss a week. I noticed I burn an average of 1700 calories a day. So that means I could have 1450 calories a day and still lose that half a pound a week. My comfort zone is 1200 to 1400 calories a day on average, so that wouldn’t be hard. Hard to believe I could eat that much and lose anything, though, with my thyroid, but I’m curious enough to try it and find out.
My HR is a little high again and I feel slightly wound up like I did yesterday but not enough to call myself anxious. I did have a sugary treat, though, that I got when we ran out to Rite Aid. Coffee cakes. I also got lentil chips for later on, a four-pack of Sutter Home’s white zinfandel, and a four-pack of their Merlot as well. My medication is likely building up in me but I’m going to try to tough it out until I hit the lab early next month.
I wonder how much wacky hormones might be connected to it because I noticed I had some spotting last night and I’ve been feeling faint cramps too. I just wonder when this shit is ever going to end for good! I’m almost 55 for fucks sake! I’m still way better and I was before early 2019 or so but this doesn’t seem normal even though I’m not too worried. In other words, my gut feeling isn’t screaming at me that something’s wrong. While that’s great, I still worry about my health delaying the move. I just think that would happen before anything threw an insanely high-paying job his way. From what I read, though, it’s usually benign. Could be anything from a thickening of the uterine lining, wacky hormones, and polyps, but some things can develop into uterine cancer. It’s just that the exams to test for this are excruciating, and even if they weren’t, I don’t want to have to deal with extra expenses now. I’ll just hope it backs off on its own.
I noticed it last night when I was rearranging the 40 or so Barbies I’m taking with me. I managed to jam them all into a smaller clear plastic bin with the exception of four that wear wide gowns. I’ll probably just leave them in there indefinitely unless they gain value and then I’ll sell them. In this bin, I could stand them upright rather than lay them down in layers which isn’t as good for them mostly because it messes up their hair.
I wouldn’t mind if Aly suddenly knew that I knew she was lying about what she voted for on my poll but not by me telling her so. I wouldn’t call her on her lies unless it was something huge or she dumps me again. Therefore, I decided not to have the post on OD where I mention it ever expires just in case she finds it.
For a minute I started to think maybe she was telling the truth because I voted from my other two accounts again on a new poll I created yet the votes weren’t showing up. Then I refreshed the page and they were visible.
My current poll: Is it wrong to be selective and to prefer not to have the mentally ill or those with prominent emotional problems as friends?
I had my other accounts vote yes and no. Recently received a yes vote when Aly was around.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2020 Nurse Kim is 51 today. Wow, I haven’t seen her since she was 23. I doubt I ever will again, but I wish her a happy birthday just the same. It will be interesting to see if she acknowledges my birthday in a few months.
Had a dream we moved to her state, my home state, of all places. Then he got some kind of job connected to guns.
I also dreamed about visiting Dixie. Only I lived a couple of houses away instead of four houses away and during the visit, it was like I couldn’t sit still, and I kept popping in and out of my house and then returning to hers. Then she got tired and wanted to take a nap but didn’t want to fall asleep alone for some reason so she asked me to stick around and I did, hoping she would hurry up and fall asleep so I could get the hell out of there because I was bored out of my mind.
She emailed me in reality last night. She’s worried about the fires, having an eye appointment today, and looking for help with Diane.
I slept with the AC off because I didn’t want the place to reek of skunks in the middle of the night but I woke up warm a few times so I think I’m going to need to sleep with it for a while longer. In early October, we shouldn’t need it at night anymore. The house one is already taking longer to come on. It comes on in the late morning to early afternoon.
Why would Aly lie about what she voted for on my last Twitter poll? Yeah, that’s the question of the day. She said she voted “now” but that’s not possible. Unless Twitter screwed up and failed to count everybody, the two “now” votes are actually from my other two accounts, so she couldn’t have voted for that. Pretty sure she voted “never” if not twice then at least once.
So why would she lie and tell me she voted “now” when there’s no way she could have possibly done so? I guess she anonymously told me what she really thinks while telling me directly what she thinks would be appropriate to tell me. She doesn’t really want me to share them now. She’d rather I never share them and that’s got to be because she knows I’ve said negative things about her at times.
But why not just say she hasn’t had time to vote yet or something like that rather than tell me she voted “now” when she doesn’t want them published now? Maybe she ran out of accounts to vote from, I don’t know.
She is definitely a prolific liar and I have to keep this in mind. I really can’t trust her as much as I’d like to think I can. I could call her out on it but because it’s something so petty, why bother risking what’s otherwise a decent friendship? Like she said in a blog post, silence can sometimes be a good thing. Meanwhile, I may not have the memory I once had but I’m aware, I know how to read, and I’m not stupid either.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2020 It’s a good thing people don’t regularly test for unlocked doors here (that I know of) since the auto-lock failed to work on the back door and it was unlocked all night.
I really, REALLY hope it doesn’t, but if anything does delay the move, that saw fanatic is going to be dealt with. I’m not going to be put out and annoyed just so someone can have their fun. Nor will I be scared out of speaking up just because some people don’t want to hear it and can’t handle it.
The thing is that they might be interested in him for a job that pays even more than his last one which means we would go from 50k a year to 60k or higher with good benefits and that would be hard to turn down or take just temporarily. The more money we can leave the state with, the more options are available to us in Florida. This job would include local traveling in which I could tag along. However, they did say they want someone bilingual so Mr. Unilingual will probably be turned down.
If there is anything up there that decides our fate, curses, or blesses us, I would think it would use my health to trap us here instead of throwing more money at us. The thing is he can’t claim he’s retired and expect to be given Unemployment. They could ask for the money back if he doesn’t work at least for a short time. I just hate to see him work before a COVID vaccine is available!
He ordered a new bike seat because this one is both uncomfortable and unstable. He’ll get a new stationary bike when we move. We get credit if we opt for a slower delivery method, but it has to be a certain dollar amount, so I grabbed another set of nail polish strips which range from beautiful bright colors to dark dull colors. I’ll throw nail polish over the boring ones.
Because my nail addiction means I now have so many sets of nails, I’m going to get an index card file box to store them in. It’s a boring matte black box so I’m going to decorate it with spare nail strips. I’m also getting a paper puncher that punches various shapes like hearts, stars, butterflies, and flowers since the nail strips would be an odd shape to decorate and personalize with.
Also got a ballet-themed 2021 wall calendar. Beginning in 2022, I don’t think we’ll get wall calendars anymore since I don’t expect to have so many high-maintenance pets that I have to remember when each one needs what. The calendars on our computers will work just as well for appointments and whatever.
Oh wow. First time I got so many votes on a Twitter poll where I asked when I should publish all my journals. No one chose now or when I die but I got two votes for hundreds of years from now, and two for never.
Doing polls is fun. It’s an interesting way to gather opinions without putting anyone on the spot since they can remain anonymous.
I guess I didn’t sleep as well as I thought I did since it seems I was up for about 90 minutes in the middle of my sleep. I do remember getting up to pee and waking up warm, but I didn’t think I would be this tired. As I said yesterday, I have a bad feeling I just hit another cycle where I’m going to be tired most of the time no matter how well I sleep. Even so, it says my sleep score is 88. I sure don’t feel like I slept that well.
Christiane is completely ignoring the messages I sent her. That’s really rude, too. Either reply or tell someone you don’t want anything to do with them! It’s probably because I asked about Nane. Had I just said, “Hello, how are you?” I probably would have gotten a reply. Why do I bother, though? I thought I’d gotten over bothering with those who don’t bother with me or who don’t bother with me unless they hear from me first.
Marie hasn’t been coming around as much. Can’t help but wonder if it’s due to the recent mentions of her if that was really her.
Gonna take a break from tracking PB for a while. It’s pretty predictable anyway, as far as who visits. I think it will be interesting to take a break for many months, then go back and see if the results are pretty similar and if Marie is still there at all. Plus, it’s a bit of a pain to have to make drafts with the code, so a break would be nice.
Aly told me she didn’t hate weekends but tweeted that she did on her Molly-connected account. I noticed that she checked in with her yesterday but not with me and wondered if she was waiting till I went to bed. I jokingly but seriously asked her if she was just waiting till I went to bed or something and a half-hour later she replied saying that after lunch she had a Crohn’s flare-up and was forced to lie in bed. If all goes well, she should be moving in with Cam today.
I love it when I happen to catch her when she’s checking in and she doesn’t know it since I have my settings set to Invisible. It’s interesting to see what she edits. One time she edited out that she sometimes stays late at school to write student reports where it’s quiet, almost as if she didn’t want to admit her place gets noisy too, even though she has mentioned raised voices, doors slamming, and footsteps.
Another time she edited out the mention of Cam having Walmart deliver groceries and I wondered if that was due to her desire to be different. At least she seems to like to be different at times and we definitely disagree on Walmart. She has no desire to shop there.
A few days ago there were half a dozen vehicles next door and I remembered that it was Bob’s would-be 91st birthday.
Finally, remembered some dreams I had. I seem to go in spurts with that, too. One of them took place on the other side of the world. I somehow ended up going home with a friend who was visiting from this other country that I’d never heard of and couldn’t find on a map. I was worried I wouldn’t have a way home, but some woman assured me that she would get me back home.
In another dream, I was driving a realistic electric mini-convertible car around the living room when I heard the sound of a large vehicle nearby. It was really early in the morning and the sun hadn’t fully risen yet. I jumped up out of curiosity to see who was parked so close to the house and found a white van sitting in front of the house. I wondered if it was some type of private ambulance or something.
Then I glanced at the car and saw it was about to crash into the wall because I hadn’t put it in park, even though it was moving slowly. I jumped back in the driver seat and slowly moved it around.
Then I heard a male voice and figured it was a paramedic. I parked the car and got out to look out the window again. I saw the paramedic loading a wooden frame of some kind into the back of the van and then I saw Virginia standing in front of her place. I went to open the door to ask how she was doing but when I opened it, I found three young to middle-aged blonde women dressed and pretty sundresses standing there smiling at me. One of them had spaghetti straps and I thought she must be cold in the chilly morning.
I said I wasn’t buying anything and shut the door on them. I then put my ear to the door to see if I could make out anything being said but all I heard was the rustling of papers. Finally, curious to see what it was all about, I opened the door to find they had placed multiple stacks of letter-sized papers all along the patio.
“So I’m supposed to take one from each stack and deliver them to the neighbors? How much are you going to pay me to do this?” the dream ended with me asking.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2020 The fucking water was off for 8 hours yesterday. Oh, to be able to take showers during the daytime and not worry that they’re going to turn the water off, not that they can’t turn it off at night.
I’m thrilled to learn that there are some parks in Florida that don’t allow pets at all. Since I don’t know what the dog situation is there or if it may be worse than the parks here, why not? That’s pretty much the only thing that’s been better here than expected, but I came to realize that’s because most people in the West believe they don’t belong indoors. But I don’t know what the attitude is in Florida. If everybody’s got them and is okay with them being household pets and not something you just throw outside, that means more of them will be walked which will mean more barking as they pass by our place. The only dogs here that sometimes get annoying are Santa’s.
So if we eliminate the dogs and get out of a flight path and a little further from traffic then that leaves just projects and landscaping until we buy land somewhere and push sounds further away from us. Hopefully, then we’ll only hear things outdoors and what we hear inside will be minimal. There sure are some places on islands and peninsulas, though, that would be worth a bit of noise. But the best of the best is for the rich, so I’m sure we’ll end up in an average home in an average park with an average view until we get land. Also, the state that land ends up being in depends on if I can breathe and sleep in Florida through the humidity and thunder.
I’m mega-tired today. I was up forever and didn’t sleep as long. Let me guess…it’s back to being exhausted every few days, right? All good things really do come to an end. :-(
I vaguely remember dreaming about him and I asking his dead mother where she wanted to eat, and then something about Johnson. It’s been a while since she’s shown up in my dreams.
I vaguely remember the stench of skunks too, not surprisingly.
I’m amazed that despite all the content in my dream blog on Blogger and how long it’s been there, it gets virtually no traffic. I realize I could make my blog containing my entire journal from the '80s on up to now public and no one would ever notice. I don’t think things like that would be all that interesting to people until they’re over 100 years old or so, though. I’ve noticed that most people seem to only care about current posts but not those from a year or two ago unless they deal with someone famous. So I think they’ll get more curious about older posts the older they get. The idea of someone possibly reading about my life hundreds or thousands of years from now if humanity still exists is kind of neat. :-) But then they wouldn’t get a lot of what I was saying with the way I would abbreviate or give things/people nicknames, especially in the pre-internet years.
A PB friend of mine voted “in hundreds of years” on a Twitter poll where I asked if I should share them never, now, when I die, or in hundreds of years. At least I think it was her since she replied to a message around the same time.
In the evening, when Aly would have been around, I got a “never” vote. Well, she may be curious (if she can’t hack into them) but at the same time, she wouldn’t want anything negative published about her even if there were no full names. Don’t know for sure that it was her. It could have been just a random stranger. But my gut says it was her.
It’s so smokey out there that Tom said he could look right at the sun when he was out watering earlier. It gives a false sense of being a cloudy gloomy day. I can already feel summer slowly beginning to slip away. The AC no longer runs early in the morning.
Just when I thought the serious/critical virus cases would slip under 60k for the first time in ages, it seems to be pushing back up.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2020 Nothing like being woken up in the middle of your sleep to the stench of skunks! I can’t wait until I can stop sleeping with the portable AC at night which is part of what’s bringing it in. Please tell me this shit isn’t going to be a regular thing in Florida! Fucking motherfuckers! I don’t understand why Animal Patrol doesn’t do more to kill them or at least move them away from populated areas. Traffic in the daytime, skunks at night…oh, but I’m not sleep-cursed, right? So yeah, if there’s anything up there cursing my sleep be it a God or something else, fuck you too.
Despite taking in 1244 calories yesterday and burning 1958 I’m up half a pound. Fitbit is meaningless for those who simply cannot lose weight be it due to their thyroid or other genetic and medical issues but I’m okay with it. It’s still fun to do and to keep in shape. Got over 1100 steps yesterday, the highest I’ve gone since I got my Versa.
I was even asked to join Fitbit’s heart study, so just like Tom, I’m in! He was probably asked due to his age. Me? They probably noticed my high HR. They will contact me if they notice anything funny which I guess is more likely to happen in my sleep if it’s going to at all. I hope not! If they want me to wear any other special devices or do any video appointments, they’ll compensate me for it.
Not at all liking how I felt a touch anxious the last three days. It’s too close to my next blood draw to cut doses, but I cut my waiting time a little today. Fucking figures this would happen too, when I’m just a few weeks away from labs.
It’s been nice using just Alexa for a sound machine the last couple of nights instead of having the stereo as well, but after one more night, I’m going to have to add the stereo as I sleep into traffic.
We got a new smart thermostat and it’s way better than the last one that was hit or miss. It’s a well-made American brand instead of cheap shit from China. This one can do so much more. I love how we can set it to automatically switch to heat when it gets cold. We still have a while to get to that point, but we’ve got it set to keep the house at 68. If we want it warmer than that in the bedroom, we’ll use the portable. The AC is set to 80 Monday - Friday and 78 during weekends. He got it for the huge rebate that comes with it.
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2020 Haha, they refer to senior hours at Safeway as “golden hours.” Isn’t that a little too much like “golden showers?”
There was something familiar about this date. Pretty sure it’s Marie’s birthday. She was a little younger than me from what I remember.
I don’t want to get my hopes up since I never seem to be able to do what I want, partly due to schedule issues and partly just fate, I guess. Either way, I was thinking of checking into making my own jewelry and selling it on Etsy. I’m not going to invest in this before the move, though. I’ll wait and delve into it once we get settled wherever we’re going to settle. The problem is that it might be a little too competitive like with writing. There’s jewelry sold everywhere. Still can’t hurt to grab a jewelry-making kit for 30 or 40 bucks, have fun with it and give it a try. If nothing sells, I can keep it for myself or share with friends and maybe future neighbors. I guess it’s $0.02 a listing for 4 months or until it sells. I was thinking I might price bracelets at $10 and necklaces at $15.
The fucking cock was sawing again yesterday, not surprisingly. At least I think it might have been him but I can’t swear to it because it’s so common around here and when I think about it, it did seem softer like it may have been a house or two away from him. Maybe Santa? I only heard it for a few seconds, but it was enough to grate on my nerves. If it’s too loud or too frequent, it usually has a way of getting old.
As I said the other day, I got a few mini bottles of Sutter Home wines from Safeway. The White Zinfandel was better than the Sauvignon Blanc. Later I’ll try their version of Pinot Grigio.
I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t impressed with the blue hues strips I applied yesterday where each nail is a darker shade from pinky to thumb because they already started to peel off. Seems I do remember some people complaining about that. Not sure if this is a brand thing or not but I definitely won’t get these again because of the way most of them are transparent and too big for me. I would rather not have to trim any down.
The nail lifting has definitely improved but the dark spots on the thumbs are worse, so it probably is a fungus that still grows because it’s being blocked by the strips from getting any light. Most importantly, there’s no pain or anything and it’s not like the nail is falling off. I scrubbed the nails in the shower after removing the strips and then I put some oil on them. After my walk, I’ll give them a little bit of full-spectrum light before I re-strip them.
Overall they don’t look that bad and if I gave up strips altogether, which of course I won’t, I’m sure they would be fine in a few months. Blocking them from light is probably almost as much of a culprit as chemicals were. I’ll hit the thumbs with Lamisil too.
Okay! I went for a nice half-hour walk/jog, came back, and redid my nails with pink/blue gradient strips.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 2020 My real email address is plugged into my private Twitter account. If Aly ever blocks it, I’ll know that she’s been looking up accounts of mine. I will also know if she spots my last OD entry before it expires because she’ll delete her “secret” Twitter account or change handles if she does. She may change handles eventually anyway.
I decided to block her on my private Twitter account as well as the one I was doing video tweets on. I can still view her tweets without unblocking her. I just don’t want the accounts recommended to her even though she wouldn’t necessarily know the private one was me. I don’t think she’s spying as much as I thought. Meaning that I don’t think she’s hacking accounts she knows she can get away with hacking. But she could still look for info on me through a paid search whenever the hell she happens to feel like doing so. I hate that people can pay to look up where I’ve signed up. Is that really any of their fucking business?
The other day I noticed that no outsiders had viewed my past two stories on Facebook and figured that the non-friend viewers had been Kim and Aly who are no longer there as far as I know. But yesterday 3 outsiders viewed my story (a rat pic) so I guess they could be anybody.
On my walk yesterday morning I found it to be a bit cloudy and a touch humid even though it was breezy and there was no smoke yet. I was a little warm when I got back since it was almost 80° at that point. I have a little fan attached to a spray bottle that I cooled myself off with, plus I kicked the AC on.
The one thing I hate about coming up Oak is that that’s where most of the dog walkers tend to be and I hate to be stopped to chat about what a beautiful day it is or something like that when I’m supposed to be working out. A woman did stop me for a second to tell me I was fast since she first saw me on Astro. Well, I do run some of the way.
A couple of days ago, I felt huge and out of shape when I was out there for some reason, but yesterday I breezed through my route easily. I’m down a pound too. I’m almost always 155 or 156. There’s very little fluctuation with me. Every now and then I’ll drop to 154 or climb to 157.
Fortunately, the sky didn’t smell smokey when I was walking with all the horrifying and heartbreaking fires going on in the state and now even up in Oregon. By this time next year, I should have traded in fires for hurricanes. The sky became eerily brown blocking out the sun to a degree later in the afternoon as the winds picked up, and OMG, the fucking stench of skunks! Please tell me that’s not going to be an issue in Florida!
I walked on, waved at a black guy who works here that was disinfecting one of the benches and soon found that Fitbit thought I climbed 4 sets of stairs today as opposed to 3 yesterday, even though I took the same route and actually climbed some hills, not stairs.
My heart went on the fritz again yesterday and I have no idea why. I was feeling warm and flustered and then it raced for a while making it up to around 115. I felt slightly anxious too, and the fact that these can be possible symptoms of heart trouble didn’t help either, though as far as I know, my heart is still healthy. Could be hormonal. I swear I’ve noticed faint cramps like my body is trying to kick off a period. Most of it was after having something sugary so maybe that was part of it, and also, Tom thinks the prospect of him going back to work soon may have triggered it. Trauma. It really does scar you for life no matter how much better you may get overall. I’m not as anxious as I used to be when left alone, but I still don’t like it either.
I’m also having that groin pain as well but now that I know it’s not connected to swollen lymph nodes, I’m thinking some kind of muscle, ligament or tendon. Again, I’m 54 and not 24. I can’t expect to be as active as I used to be as much as I wish I could.
I also had a bit of pain in my upper left back below the neck and a little above the shoulder blade but that was likely connected to my TMJ which can move down the neck and into that part of the shoulder/back area. Back pain associated with heart problems is usually between the shoulder blades from what I read.
I feel slightly warm and anxious now and have a touch of fatigue so I may take it easy today. I don’t know if I want to go out walking. Especially if it’s smokey. I may just use the skier today. We are going to Safeway, though. We’re going to grab some scratch tickets because I’ve been having a feeling about winning lately, though I don’t know how much.
Some candle company based in Texas called about a Quality Control Specialist job, but they fail to realize this is California, not Texas. You can’t live on the same wages here. He asked for $19 and they said they’d call back after they check to see if they were willing to go that high, but it doesn’t look like they are. Also, the job would be in Auburn where we used to live and that’s about a 40-minute drive.
I realize that if I keep my hair short, and I likely will since I’m sick of dealing with long hair, then I have room to move around when it comes to colors. Blondes and reds are out of the question but some of the deep dark auburn colors and even burgundy should look nice.
Wow, a Lifetime movie with a childless married couple! It’s about time. Now let’s have some single moms who aren’t divorced or widowed and some more gays and lesbians. Just when I was bitching that it was usually the men winning the fights against women, there was one movie where a woman beat a guy to death and then another where she strangled one to death so it’s nice to see a little more equality there.
Oh, and I know that most people believe that the mentally ill deserve compassion and all that and while I get their point, it’s a little hard to feel compassion when so many of them cause so much trouble. Obsessive behavior, stalking, trolling, intense mood swings, lying, a lack of empathy, selfishness, laziness…how do you have compassion for that?
Because I feel slightly wound up I should probably go do the EFT exercises that I haven’t done in a while and try not to dwell on the three possibilities that could, however unlikely it may be, delay the move. That would be one of us getting sick, one of us getting injured, or him being offered a job with an insane amount of money. We like money the same as anyone else but would still like to move as planned. No one’s ever paid him an insane amount of money yet, though, so I don’t see why they’d start now unless something’s more determined than even I realize to keep me in a noisy place.
We were checking out homes on peninsulas on the outer side of the Tampa Bay and OMG, that area is so damn gorgeous that living with noise, as long as I could sleep, would actually be worth it! I would just love to be a peninsula girl. It’s funny as I was running around like a little kid chanting to Tom, “I want to be a peninsula girl!” We checked out this awesome beach that’s basically a peninsula of its own that I would love to be able to visit whenever.
We saw this house (a regular house built on a slab foundation like what we had in Phoenix) for 90k but it was in the mainstream and I’m sure it would be quite noisy. It was still neat to see a house go for what goes for a quarter-million here. But the loud vehicles and old men wielding circular saws are enough. I don’t want to add partying college kids, screaming kids, welfare bums, barking dogs, and boom car stereos to the mix. So unless it’s on the end of the peninsula, which we’re pretty much guaranteed never to be able to afford, it’s best to start off in an adult park and then get land in central Florida if I can stand the climate or land in another state. It’s easier to get out of a park than to get out of land since there’s more demand for parks, especially senior parks in Florida. So that’s why we’re going to start there. But it’s almost certainly going to be just an ordinary house with an ordinary view. I’d love to have a water view be it a lake or the ocean, but I just don’t see that happening. And again, it would only be for a few months. I’m pretty much all or nothing in that if we can’t afford something spectacular on a peninsula where all ages are likely to reside, then I would rather return to country living. It isn’t just about getting peace when I’m awake, but I need to sleep. I can’t be woken up constantly when I’m on nights like I almost certainly would in a park. Of course, I still don’t know how often the storms are going to wake me up but that’s what we’re going to find out. With many of the parks, the mowers go right up to the houses, and of course you would have dog walkers milling about with barking that might wake me up. Worse would be a carport running alongside the place with a loud vehicle of some kind. I think we could improve on the general traffic and planes, but we’re not going to get away from the projects and power tools. They’re just too widespread these days. You don’t need to rent circular saws anymore. Anyone can walk into a store and grab one for 50 bucks or less. Like I said, no way I’m putting up with it for the rest of my life. I’m not going to be a peninsula girl, but you can bet I’m going to be a country girl again!
It was interesting that you can not only look up the racial breakdown of a particular town but a particular block as well. I don’t know how they know this or that I’d trust it since people do move. I just don’t want to give history a chance to repeat itself where a different race makes trouble for us, has a friend on the police force, and every single fucking lie they tell is automatically believed as it is in most of a country. So what if you may be vindicated in the end because enough complaints were finally filed against the pig when it’s already six months, thousands of dollars, and a whole shitload of anguish too late.
There’s this site that thinks our place is worth around 120K - 130K. We’ve seen dumps in dumpier parks go for around 80K, but I doubt we’ll pocket much more than 30K - 60K after all the fees are paid out in the end.
Took a little break to get some stuff at Safeway…wine, snacks and tickets. The two scratch tickets won us a lousy $4. Annie’s original snack mix is boring but an okay snack. I’d give Sutter Home’s White Zinfandel a 7.5. I’ll try their Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Grigio later.
At least I’m feeling calm now and didn’t need to do EFT or take Ibuprofen for my back pain since they both went away on their own.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2020 It’s going to be over 10 degrees cooler today making it up to 95. I’m sure the bastard will jump out any morning now to play with his saw while it’s still pleasant. It doesn’t really heat up until late in the morning or early afternoon depending on how high the temp is expected to climb. I would still take the damn saw over the car since I always have to have something here as the car was much louder and would drive by multiple times a day every single day often waking me up. The saw isn’t every day, as loud, and it doesn’t get close to the bedroom, so the sound machines can drown it out.
No more putting up with end-of-the-day boredom. When I realize I still have three or four hours before I’m ready to start reading myself to sleep yet I’m done with everything I need to do, I’m going to hit the skier. As long as I don’t go too fast, that wouldn’t be overdoing it or harming my joints, especially since there’s no impact. It’s just a little tough on the feet.
Aly says on her not-so-secret account that she’s tired of having to explain that BLM members aren’t saying that only their lives matter and if you don’t understand this then you’re part of the problem.
I know damn well that was in regard to an RT of mine.
She asked if I decided against doing videoless tweets or if I was doing them on my private account. I told her I did some on my private account and found it a pain in the ass to have to delete the vids off my phone so they wouldn’t take up too much space and thought it looked funny with just a black video or my desktop wallpaper showing, and would rather wait and see if Androids will one day have the new voice note feature. I doubt they will, though. Either way, what I told her was mostly true. It wasn’t on my private account but everything else was true that I told her. Unless I get incredibly bored or I really want to rant about something, I don’t see myself making a regular habit of doing vid tweets.
Okay, I’m mean but I couldn’t help referring to my private account to her as Lady Rainbow when in fact it’s a random name she would never think to look for. She no doubt went looking for what she couldn’t find so she could block it from her “secret” account, LOL.
I just hope she doesn’t find my OD account. But hey, she can mention me openly even though she doesn’t use my name and I can do the same. Still, she’s part of why I LOVE OD’s expiration option. I don’t want anyone I care about to be hurt or offended needlessly.
My poll asking if 6 planes in an hour flying over you at 2K feet was excessive or not and got two yeses. I wonder if Aly voted from both of her accounts.
My Facebook Stories have stopped getting outside views so I’m almost positive they were from Kim and Aly before they both supposedly deactivated there.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2020 When I woke up and saw the papers sitting on the counter, I knew immediately that it was connected to the park and thought how I was going to call them up and demand they never contact us again unless it’s something they send everyone, but then I realized it wasn’t some bullshit complaint from them but from a resident that’s starting a new form of neighborhood watch. They’re pissed that the park won’t hire any kind of guard or rolling patrol, so they want to get the residents to log any suspicious activity to help make the park safer. They claim they’ll keep things confidential, but I wouldn’t trust our info if we had anything to report, to be kept from the park. God help this couple as it is because once the park gets wind of what they’re doing, the park is going to complain on them like crazy about all kinds of frivolous and fictitious things. Well, I don’t just dislike the mentally ill and the chronic liar. Try the overly sensitive/emotional as well. You complain to the park and it’s like they take it personally and feel compelled to counter-complain, though I still think Joy was a friend of Melody’s.
I can’t believe how long it’s been since we’ve heard that damn car too, not that there aren’t other annoyances. There’s always someone who comes along to make up for whoever was last annoying as hell. Like Dahl and his fucking saw. Haven’t heard it in about a week but I’m sure I will this week. Contractors/construction workers are the worst neighbors to have besides the welfare bums.
I was really hoping the planes would wait till after 6 to start their shit, but nope, the first plane flew over at 5:40 yesterday morning. So 12:40 a.m. to 5:40 a.m. will be the only hours I don’t hear them until we get the fuck out of here.
Blogger has finally forced its new and unwanted interface on me. At least on one of my blogs anyway. I have about 10 blogs there, but I rarely use most of them.
I also noticed some changes on MD and one thing I don’t like is that I can’t highlight and overwrite things in past entries. I wish people could just leave things alone! It’s change that leads to problems. Maybe if I deleted the entry before replacing it, it would work. I’ll check it out later.
I ignore most of it as I know people have a right to their opinions and beliefs. However, I’m getting sick of this “hate for whites” trend and the unfair portrayal of them that suggests whites always shit on blacks who are always innocent. It’s insulting to whites and some of us have had enough. People forget that most whites accept blacks and not all blacks are saints.
I don’t follow Norma much because her posts are so negative, bashing whites and putting blacks on pedestals. Sometimes I think of unfriending her because of it and because it would be one less connection to the termite, but that would be mean, and she would worry about me. Besides, how many more years could she possibly have left at 88 or 89? Or maybe she’s turning 90 tomorrow? I don’t know the exact age but she’s definitely over 86.
Tom gave me a great idea yesterday, though I haven’t acted on it yet. A couple of days ago, I was bitching about how I only managed to crank out one paragraph of my story since my writer’s block has been so bad. Then yesterday I got bored and was saying that I had a few more hours left to try to figure out what to do with myself since I’d already done all the things I usually do during my day, and he said to write another paragraph. That’s when I got the idea to just do a paragraph here and a paragraph there like maybe one every hour or two. Maybe this will help get me going with it.
Tom is hoping to work in an Amazon warehouse within a month or so where he can keep active and get lots of steps. That’s what he’s hoping for anyway, and to do seasonal work and maybe even transfer to a warehouse in Florida when we move. They don’t pay much, especially for being in Cali, but it would be adequate enough. He said that as long as I’m still feeling good, he may work until we put the house on the market since most of the time-consuming prep work is now done. The only other thing we have left that will be a bit of work is laying down the rocks alongside the carport. However, he’s not about to wrestle what would literally be tons of rocks in 111-degree temps. He wants to wait until it gets down in the 80s for that.
The rest of the work is indoors but some of it can’t be done until it gets close. This will consist of going through stuff and deciding what’s going and what’s not. Plus I’m going to use the heat gun to remove the wall stickers. Some of them anyway, and we’ll be leaving the murals. Gotta really scrub the appliances down too. I still think that due to its age and needing so much upgrading it’s going to end up with a flipper who will pretty much gut the place from top to bottom.
I just hope to hell Virginia stays put! I know we would happen to get someone with a loud vehicle or that was power tool-happy if she moved.
Amazon’s hiring in Vacaville for $18 an hour and giving a $500 bonus for those willing to come in at 2:30 a.m. He would take the job except that it’s an hour’s drive which would call for a really long day if he had to spend a couple of hours total on the road. That’s a bit long for him even if he didn’t hate driving.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2020 I hope that one year from now when I’m looking back at the On This Day section of PB, I can smile and know that the planes being back in full swing is no longer a reality for me but just a memory. Well, they’re not quite in full swing yet but they’re getting there. It’s still quiet at night, but yesterday morning, I heard 6 of them from 6:08 a.m. to 7:12 a.m. and at just a couple of thousand feet up, I call that excessive. I turned on the fan to drown out some of the sound after an hour, but I know there were more of them.
Again I wonder if I just keep happening to get the extremes or if the degree of noise I hear is actually normal even if it may be from different sources in different places. I mean, I’m not the only one in Citrus Heights. Thousands of others are hearing the same planes I hear. Those in the mainstream are hearing barking round-the-clock and I’m not. They’re also hearing more car stereos. I’m not attached to anyone, so I don’t hear their footsteps or TVs. So I’m not sure what to think. It seems noise is everywhere, but I am determined to cut back the traffic and planes when we move. I’ll still hear some loud traffic, just not so close to the house. Power tools will probably always be a nuisance no matter where we go because they’re so common now. The freeway will also be history in the next place.
I hate this time of year. We still have a couple of more months of good weather, but there’s rarely a moment of silence day or night. At 2 in the morning, even if I’m not hearing planes, landscaping or power tools, I’m still hearing the freeway. By the time it fades out again, we should be gone. It’s definitely a time of year thing and not a temperature thing because it was over 100 degrees yesterday and is going to be 111 degrees today.
I just hope to hell nothing delays the move! I thought about it and asked myself what could realistically delay it and the only thing I can really think of is if one of us had a serious illness or injury. If there is anything cursing me with noise, though, it’s not going to make it easy for us to get out of here since I know we can get a quieter place because we’ve had them before. Not every place is 1100 feet from a freeway, in a flight path, or has a busy street wrapping closely around three sides of them.
I doubt it, but I sure hope the “leaky” dream I had doesn’t mean anything. I dreamed that the rainy season was just beginning, and it was leaking by both the front and back doors. I was worried because most of the rain had yet to come and I was worried we would be forced to pay for a new roof before we could get out of here.
Had another dream where I was wandering around homeless but at least I was in Hawaii while I was at it. Someone handed me a package and it turned out to be a pair of sunglasses and a watch from my parents. I then shed tears of mixed emotions where they were concerned.
One of my nails fell off. First time that happened this long after applying them. Was able to put it back on and enforce it with a top coat.
I was glad to find that not every single set in the second to last set of nail strips is transparent after all. There are about 5 that aren’t.
I was kind of pissed that Lifetime removed one of the movies I was watching before I could finish it. I was watching Your Baby is Mine. Then again, I know exactly how it would have ended. The crazy woman would have attempted to abduct and kill the mother who would have killed or maimed the crazy lady. Then, while the crazy lady, if still alive, was carted off to jail or the funny farm, Mommy, Daddy and baby would go on to live happily ever after.
While I still love their movies, the predictable endings and a few old-fashioned stereotypes are the only things I don’t care for. There’s always a black person in each movie, of course, but there are rarely any gays or lesbians.
Also, in a day and age when most parents are single, why are they always married if they aren’t divorced or widowed in their movies?
Lastly. It bugs me how women are portrayed as weaker than men with almost all of the men winning the violent fights. Then again, there have been a few good kick-ass scenes where women have beaten the shit out of men. Still, whether we want to admit it or not, there really is a grain of truth to most stereotypes. Women were taught to be “ladylike” and not violent or to fight back 50 years ago and most of those with kids were married then too.
But when is Lifetime going to get with the times and bring their characters more up-to-date?
I managed to write one lousy paragraph of my story last night. I really think I’m beyond the point of ever getting my creative juices back again. I skimmed the first few pages I had and decided I had too many missing articles which is basically lazy writing. So I edited more than I created.
Damn, I miss my old hormones! You don’t realize how many things working hormones influence until they no longer work. I wonder if it will be worse for Aly when she gets to this point since she does erotica whereas I just do suspense. But even my suspense is usually influenced by some hottie I turn into a character where there’s a degree of romance and it’s all driven by those hormones that are now dead as are many other things.
I’m bored so much more often than I ever used to be. God’s got to kill me somewhat young because I don’t know that I can do this for another 25 years. Funny-sounding or not, fantasy takes time. Without it, I’m left with just the basics and there are only so many hours I can spend doing those things. Yet I can’t remember the last time I had a crush on someone, and I wonder if I ever will again no matter how attractive they may be, not that I’m in a position to meet many new people. Plus, with my shitty vision, I can’t even fucking see them well even with glasses. Glasses help but can never really replace good vision.
Last plane went by at 12:40, so that will be it till either 5:40 or just after 6. Wow! Five hours off from them.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2020 The nails came a day early and are quite lovely. I started with a lavender-aqua set. The lavender part looks a little more like mauve in the pictures I took but they still came out great! They’re a little thicker like the other sparkly gradients so they would be best applied when I plan on cutting my nails. My nails will grow very long if I let them but they’re a real pain in the ass to deal with when they’re long so I’m probably going to cut them every other week.
These fit well but have a plastic smell to them. I’m sure that will go away soon enough, though.
Overall my nails are looking much healthier, so I saw when I removed the last set of nail strips. However, while much of the discoloration in the thumbs is growing out, I did notice some dark spots by the tips of the nails, so as I suspected, the discoloration isn’t all from nail polish and remover. The lifting looks better as well but I love doing my nails so much that I would do them until they fell off since I hate going with bare nails, LOL. I even hate my toenails to be bare.
Decided I could let some entries never expire on OD. If I’m doing nothing but talking about nails, then who cares, right?
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2020 WTF? 56? Fitbit says my heart dipped to 56 somewhere between 9:40 - 9:45 last night. I’m guessing it was Fitbit and not me because I read that others have experienced sudden spikes and drops as well. If it happened regularly then I might worry.
If we move to one of those towns he was last investigating, we would be just 35 miles from Norma. I would love to visit her and I know he’d like her very much, but I don’t know that I could trust her to keep our location a secret even though the termites might still be smart enough to figure it out if they really wanted to if someone didn’t tell them how to find us first. Norma wouldn’t give them our address, of course, and there would be no reason to give it to Norma, but she might mention the town. Being 100 miles away from the termites is better than a few miles but still, 100 miles is a hell of a lot closer than nearly 3,000 miles, so I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see where we end up first since there are no guarantees yet that we’ll really move there.
The only other thing that might make me uncomfortable about visiting Norma is that she would likely bring the termites up. What am I supposed to say to that? That I know she can’t see it and that she likely wouldn’t have reason to because they have a totally different type of relationship than we ever had but the bitches really are batshit crazy and God help her if she does cross them?
Since they didn’t have his favorite soda the last couple of times we ordered groceries, he’s been drinking water like crazy. In just two days he’s noticed his skin is much softer and doesn’t look as wrinkly. I’ll try this sometime and see if it makes a difference although my sparkling water is water and I do use lotion. I don’t mind looking older so much since that’s a fact of life but if it would make my skin softer and more comfortable, why not?
In looking at my calorie intake over the days I’ve logged them, I’ve learned that I don’t quite eat as much as I thought just like I don’t sleep as much as I thought. I thought I had an average of 1500-1600 calories a day but it’s actually 1300-1400, an amount that almost anybody would lose on and that further proves I’d have to go down to an unhealthy and unsustainable 1000 calories to lose. Again, no thanks.
It’s going to be really hot Sunday and they’re talking about maybe hitting 110 degrees!
Noticed that Christiane read my message yesterday, but I haven’t gotten a reply. She could just be busy. If a week passes with nothing, then yeah, she’s ignoring me, and she’ll definitely never hear from me again.
Right or wrong, childish or not, all the free time I have and the boredom I often experience have given me plenty of opportunities to play with Alyssa, LOL. I “chat” with her as if she’s chatting back. I claimed her messages keep disappearing too.
I started to think that my old dentist, Shannan and Holly being suggested to me was indeed because they read my messages to them and the fact that Alyssa is never suggested to me means she’s not reading my messages. But then that wouldn’t explain why Dr. A and her nurse have been suggested to me. I’ve never messaged either one of them.
Argh, that’s the second time that saw cock has haunted me in my dreams! The first time, I heard its shit the very next day. Tom swears he didn’t hear him today, didn’t spend much time under the headphones, and was even outside as he has been most days.
First I dreamed of being at the beach somewhere and going down these little cement steps that lead to the shore. After I swam a bit in the ocean, I showered. Then I went back down the stairs to head somewhere else when I noticed that the bottom stair was covered in water because the tide was coming in. I hated to get my feet all wet and sandy again but saw no other choice.
Then there was something about a pet rat and my parents. It was as if even they thought it was cute the way it was so playful.
The saw dream was more than just a few seconds. The homes and yards were totally different. We had a backyard half as big as the yard we had in Phoenix and we might have had two floors. It was getting dark when the damn saw started up and it wasn’t only for a few seconds here and a few seconds there. It was a continuous and highly annoying whine instead. I ran out into our backyard where Tom was towards the back corner of it which sort of wrapped around a hedge of some kind.
“He’s at it again and it’s almost 7 p.m.!” I complained. He headed toward me and was talking and since I knew he was hard of hearing I said, “Shhh!” so he could hear it.
“I’ve had enough. I’m not going to listen to this for another 7 or 8 months. I’m going to find out why he does this so often.”
So I cut through our place and as I was pushing the front screen door open which faced his place, I noticed he embossed his name and occupation on a plastic strip sticker he stuck to the inside of the handle of the screen door in hopes of getting more work. The name might have said Michael K, and he listed his occupation as a mechanic. In reality, I’m sure he’s just your garden variety contractor.
I went out the front door with it in mind to ask why there was so much sawing over there and if he was prepping to sell the place or something and hopefully drop enough hints without having to spell it out that it’s quite loud in our place and not just frequent.
Instead of having a carport, he had a double-car garage which he sat inside. He looked younger, though, and a woman, also younger with long light brown hair, came up behind him and they kissed.
A split second later, there were a few other people chatting with him and I realized it wouldn’t be a good time to question him since it didn’t involve the others and there was still the virus to consider.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2020 We went to the store earlier and I got some wine and Jelly Bellies. On our way out was when I realized that the park isn’t quite as gated as I thought. I’m surprised it took me this long to realize this but when I thought of how some people mentioned homeless people coming in through the creek, I saw that the fence didn’t run across the creek and connect to the fences running alongside the backyards of the properties on the other side that aren’t part of the park. So technically, anyone could walk into the park if you went through that small section which would also explain how the occasional stray dog can wander in like that German Shepherd I saw a few times. This is a pretty good area in general, though, so I doubt many homeless people even know about that one little gap in the fence let alone hang out in that area very often. It’s pretty out of the way and not something you would easily come across.
It’s something I’ll definitely keep an eye on if I’m out walking in the middle of the night, but the skunks have pretty much put a damper on that. Besides, as much as I love walking around the park, I do have to get used to indoor walking because I can’t see myself taking walks regularly in Florida due to the humidity, and the alligators there are even more reasons not to go out at night since gated or not, those things are nocturnal. They don’t seem to have as many gated communities in Florida from what we can tell, at least not when it comes to adult communities. In Florida, I would be swimming and bike riding more than I would be walking or jogging.
Tom says he hasn’t heard any sawing and I wonder if it’s because the sawing occurred when he had the headphones on or if the fucking cock across the street is just waiting until I’m on days again. If there really is a noise curse aimed at me, then I guess he would be quiet for a few more days.
We’ve got another triple-digit heatwave coming up, but that doesn’t stop the bastard. He jumps out, cuts what he wants, then jumps back indoors. And back and forth and back and forth.
I had this weird dream where we lived right by a river. The place sort of extended over the river. It didn’t look like Florida at all. We jumped in the car and drove on this freeway that kind of curved above and around the area which looked very industrialized. There was a little dock across from our place and as we drove alongside the river and against the current, I realized that the water that passed our place traveled quite a ways before it got to us.
Then I had an even stranger dream where I literally lost part of my outer upper arm and shoulder bone. Only the end of the arm bone didn’t bulk out like in reality. Instead, it just made a gentle curve toward my shoulder. It was about 5 inches long and was brownish-black and I wondered if I now weighed less as I curiously inspected the bone.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2020 Fell asleep around 5 and woke up right before 8 to pee. It was then that I realized I was nauseous and had likely eaten something bad. Probably the tilapia which was the last thing I ate before bed. I had noticed a funny little spot on it but didn’t think much of it. I took a Tums and lay there for a while with nausea coming and going in waves until I finally puked. Fortunately, I didn’t get as bad as the last time I experienced food poisoning since it didn’t last as long, and I didn’t have the runs. A few hours later I fell back asleep for a few more hours, so I’m a little tired today but not as tired as I could be. My stomach is still a bit queasy too, but I doubt I’ll throw up again.
Funny how I don’t puke since the late '90s in Phoenix – not in Maricopa, not in K-Falls, not in Auburn – then I come here and puke TWICE. The last time was a year or two ago.
Fitbit thinks my heart spiked to 163 after I got up. Hope that’s wrong and that I didn’t A-fib.
Even though I’ve known Aly for a dozen years now, we continue to really get to know and understand each other which is nice. I think she understands that some bad experiences mean you don’t go back to where you were before. You go through medical trauma like I did, you don’t quite go back to where you were. Just like you don’t quite see some people in the same light after you go through the legal shit I went through in Arizona. As I told her, I can totally see how a woman being raped could really change her view of men and even become violent and abusive towards them in the future.
So do I have a problem with the black person who treats me with kindness and respect at a doctor’s office or in some store or wherever? Absolutely not. Do I have a problem with them as a whole? Yeah, kind of, but then the older I get, like most older people, I just don’t care for people in general no matter who or what they are.
Right or wrong, I like to check crime rates and “pies” when considering moving to a new area. I would prefer 70 to 75% vanilla.
Tampa is predominantly black and can be dangerous as well. Raj and Tina up in Oregon told me they hated it there and had problems with blacks there as did other family members. I don’t care if I have to shop with certain people, I just would prefer not to live with them. So Tom began checking out this new area that he hadn’t checked out or considered before and that’s the northern part of the Gulf Coast. Towns like Palm Harbor, Largo, Port Richey and Clearwater are predominantly white, but they’re close enough to Tampa if you ever need to go to the city for something that’s not in the smaller towns.
The problem with Venice is that their space rents are too high, almost comparable to here. In this area, they go down to the 400s. That’s a third of this place! It would probably be an old dumpy single-wide. Even though it would be in a park and I’m sure the neighbors would find a way to annoy me, it would only be for a few months and it would be fun to be able to bike ride just a mile away to the beach during that time. I’m definitely not going to want to stay there and have those big loud commercial mowers come right up to the bedroom window when I’m sleeping, even if it wouldn’t be an everyday event like the loud blowers are here. I also have no reason not to believe that motorcycles and power tools wouldn’t be a regular annoyance as well.
The Palm Harbor area is about 100 miles away from the termites which is comforting. Any less than that, and there’s a risk of them driving to us if they found out our address. I wouldn’t put it past them to “surprise” us by doing that. We’re still going to do what we’re going to do, though. If we find the perfect place on the Atlantic side that’s near them, so be it. But the gulf side is more appealing. They would be likelier to have smaller cruise ships, and the waves would be a little tamer than on the other side.
I still do intend to get things off my chest by sharing those excerpts, and when it comes time to do that, I’ll temporarily deactivate on Facebook so Sarah can’t create a new account to come at me from.
Tom got a strange text from Vermont asking, “Are you Tom S?” He didn’t reply, assuming it’s connected to something he signed up for and they just want to sell him something. If it’s really that important, they can elaborate from there.
This is kind of weird, though I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with me. Maybe someone they knew found their account. There was a new account, Aloha, on PB and we hit it off right away, exchanging comments and all that. Pretty sure they were in Reno. I recently noticed they deleted their account but I’m still seeing Reno on my visitor list, so they must have created a new account. Why haven’t they contacted me, though?
I’ve only heard two planes since I’ve been up, so they’re not up to maximum annoyance yet.
We hope to fly out of here first class but that will only be if it wouldn’t impact our plans for when we got to Florida. I was laughing with Tom earlier thinking how different of an exit that would be compared to how we came in. We came into the state in a dumpy old truck, so to leave first class would be quite a step up.
When I finally fell back to sleep after puking, it was off to another popular negative dream theme for me and that’s the stolen purse dream. I didn’t know Tom in the dream. I lived in a huge building. Not sure if it was some kind of apartment building or hotel but my mother, who seemed to be around 50, worked in the building as a housekeeper.
I went to watch a movie in a community lounge with three other people who were in their 20s or so. There was a closet with an open door just off of it where you could put your coat and purse. Bored with the movie, I got up and grabbed something be it a sweater or something else, and then looked down at a royal blue purse of mine that sat inside a larger bag. I thought of taking it with me but then decided it would be okay since I would be back soon. So I took off even though I thought better of it and had a bad feeling. The more that feeling came over me, I decided to head back to the now-empty lounge and found someone had stolen the purse.
Then I ran and found my “mother” and told her that while they didn’t get any cash, my license, passport and credit card had been in the bag. I began to panic and feel overwhelmed when I thought of all I would have to do to try to stop the person from ripping me off and maybe even stealing my identity all because I was too lazy to take the damn purse with me.
It took a year and a half, but I finally had a weak moment and messaged Christiane. Or Lisette or whatever her real name is. She doesn’t appear to have read my message which is a little surprising because her last check-in appears to be a day ago. I don’t know what’s going on in her life so I can’t say if she just hasn’t checked her messages, or if she read it, marked it as unread, and plans to blow me off. Right now my feeling is that she’s blowing me off because I didn’t just ask about her. I asked about Nane as well. Time will tell!
I’m bad, LOL, cuz I also messaged sexy doc as if we were having a live chat. Plus, I created “nicknames” which you can now do and which both sides see. So she’s Sexy Doc and I’m Gulf Girl, haha.
It was nice to find that OD now allows free members. I just can’t code my entries for tracking because they don’t allow links for free members but that’s okay. It’s not really necessary there. What I love about it is that I can choose to have entries expire in 24 hours or a week. I decided to go with a week. That way I can drop my thoughts on the world and feel like I can be more open in a place that Aly doesn’t use as far as I know, and the posts don’t have as much time to be discovered with them expiring. I’ve disabled comments because I may get a little more controversial there.
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(About the brother!atsushi) aRE YOU READING MY MIND MISS?! Because that has been on my mind for MONTHS. TYSM For writing it was amazing!! If you don't mind, may I request (if requests are open) atsushi, still an older brother, but with a sister that's 10-13 yrs old? It's totally fine if you don't wanna do it. Keep up the good stories, ily mwuah!
*sobs* you’re so kind thank youu 🤧🤧
i wrote this a bit differently i hope that’s okay anon! at first i planned for this to be mainly abt atsushi and the reader, but i decided to add in relationship hcs with the agency bc i ran out of ideas
if you guys liked this don’t worry! im planning a special part two for this one so be the look out for it hehe
atsushi with a tween! sister
ft. the armed detective agency
like in my baby sister hcs, you’re still the most important thing to him period
the two of you got picked up by dazai and kunikida when he was 18 (obviously) and when you were 12
for a 12 year old, you were a bit small bc of malnourishment (which makes atsushi feel so bad) so both dazai and kunikida thought you were a bit younger than you actually were
they assumed you were about 9-10ish
you and atsushi both share a favorite food !! chazuke :)
so when kunikida treated the two of you, he made sure you got more bowls bc like i mentioned above, he feels really bad that you were malnourished and under weight
(don’t bring this up but kunikida felt bad too hehe)
when dazai went with your brother to the warehouse, you were with kunikida
imagine the surprise of the other ada members when kunikida came in with a little girl dressed in rags that popped out from behind him
kenji was the one who vocalized his thoughts
“kunikida-san you have a daughter?! wow! i didn’t know that! :D”
when you found out your brother was a tiger, you were a bit concerned but you were actually kind of excited
you were even more excited when you found out the two of you were going to be taken in by the agency
anything was better than the stupid orphanage
and besides!
you got a tiger for an older brother and a bunch of other super powered agents to take care of you! who could want anything else?
at your age, you’re very impressionable and can be influenced easily so atsushi makes sure to teach you more in depth of good morals and the importance of kindness
his heart swells with pride and relief when he catches you being kind to others
pride bc he’s proud that even after all the two of you have gone through, you still ended up being a good kid and having a bright view of the world
and relief bc he hasn’t failed as a big brother
pfftt like he could ever fail
but please, from time to time reassure him that he’s perfect and the only big brother that you’d ever want bc he rlly needs that kind of validation
with his salary and savings, he tries to buy nice things for you
what a sweetheart 🥺
he saw you eyeing that one dress at a store window? fast forward abt a week and half and it’s inside a pretty gift bag for you
you wanted to try that dessert from the nice bakery? that’s dessert after dinner at one point
but other than buying you things, he sets money aside for you
like all the time
(y/n), here have this, you might need it”
“but nii-san you just gave me—”
“take it”
#1 spoiler
also your #1 confidant and source of physical affection
you tell him anything and everything (except crushies and those kinds of things)
atsushi loves it when you talk abt your day and he can see the big smile on your face and the sparkle in your eyes
it gives him the strength to keep going 😖😖
the two of you aren’t as touch starved as you’d probably think, but that’s only bc the two of you had each other
in your opinion, no one can match the hugs of your big brother
and it got even better bc YAYY he has tiger arms now ٩(◕‿◕)۶
if you ask, he’d carry you around too hehe
you also get nightmares quite often so he’ll always be there ready to calm you down, talk if you need to, and rock you back to sleep
god i love him 🤧🤧
atsushi will do everything in his power to protect you and make sure you get to grow up happy, supported, and loved
port mafia attack? oop he’s already taking you to the nearest escape route
someone is starting to harass you? they just got suckered punched into the next week
you want to go out to have some fun? he’ll go ask the president for a day off
you’re not feeling well? he’ll take another day off and take care of you
whatever you want to do, he’ll do it with you! (as long as it’s within reason)
will always be your #1 supporter! and he’s the president of your fan club hehe
he loves you so so much and will do anything for you; your life and happiness will always be more important to him
you are his reason to keep going
agency head canons !!
atsushi is your big brother, but kunikida is most definitely some sort of father figure
everyone can see it
except kunikida of course
kunikida scolds you lightly if he thinks your manners need work or if you make a mess in the agency
you listen to him of course and in turn as some sort of a reward, he’ll give you pieces of stationary
he always gives you the nice, good quality kind and you’re over the moon
atsushi adores it when you come running to him showing your new notebook or fountain pen and blabbering what you’re going to do with it
sometimes it isn’t even as a reward for being a good child; he’ll just give it to you and he’ll say smth like “i noticed you’ve used up your last notebook quite quickly, so here’s another one” or “did you run out of ink? here have this then”
he usually has a soft spot for children in general, but he most definitely has a soft spot (or a thousand) for you
yosano is kind of like a motherly figure to you
she gives you the guidance a mother should and goes on shopping trips with you!
atsushi always gets dragged along by you, but he thinks it’s worth it seeing you look so happy
yosano being a doctor also tries to teach the things you should know, or things that would be helpful to you
she’ll teach you the basics of cooking, sewing, how to treat a cold/fever, etc
also gives you excellent advice 1000% of the time
“remember (y/n)-chan if someone hurts you come tell me and then i’ll chop them into—”
“yOSANO-SENSEI DONT TELL HER THAT—”
fukuzawa is like a father to most in the agency but you see him more as a grandfather figure
bi weekly tea and gossip sessions hehe
along with cat talk!
most of the time though, it’s just you talking and him listening to you, but the two of you enjoy it nonetheless
“and then kunikida-san ended up crashing into a pole and dazai-san started to laugh at him and i did too because it was really funny but we ended up getting scolded—”
“hmm i see...”
he’ll let you stay in his office as he fills out paperwork; you’re usually doodling or drawing in your notebooks
sometimes he’ll meditate and you’ll join him, but 4/7 times you’d fall asleep
you always wake up with a blanket over you
dazai is like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle
frequently takes you out with him when he ditches work
walks in the park, eating at uzumaki so he has the excuse of treating you so he doesn’t have to pay his tab avoiding kunikida and sometimes chuuya and akutagawa, all that fun stuff
also tries to not talk abt suicide in front of you especially if it’s just the two of you alone
he knows that you mean the world to his pupil and that said pupil would probably hate him for putting suicide inside your brain
he teaches you random but useful things like how to pick a lock, how to steal kunikida’s notebook if you’re looking for some information, how to sweet talk your way out of things, etc.
is also the one to tell you that if you ever get a significant other to introduce them to the agency first
he always wants all of your gossip; some of them work pretty well for blackmail
“dazai-san! dazai-san! did you know that kunikida-san lost his glasses and he was looking for them for nearly an hour when he was just holding them the entire time??”
“woah really (y/n)-chan?! hey hey can you say it again into this recording device so kunikida-kun would believe me when i tell him—”
always ends up giving kunikida a heart attack when he says that you’ve been with him all day
ranpo is also like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle
will share some of his snacks, but don’t push it or you might not get anything at all
loves it when you compliment him
if you tagged along with him and your brother on a case, he will show off to impress you
“...and that’s how the crime happened”
“UWAHH RANPO-SAN YOU’RE SO COOL”
atsushi is lowkey and kunikida is highkey stressed that ranpo’s eating habits will rub off on you
“ne (y/n)-chan do you wanna try this highly caffeinated drink and this concerning amount of sugar filled snack?”
“can i really?!”
“rANPO-SAN NO—”
ranpo definitely does stuff like that on purpose
the tanizakis are like siblings to you!
a weird set of siblings but siblings nonetheless
the two of them adore you and think you’re precious
atsushi definitely knows how to do your hair whether it’s long or short but he got even better at it when he asked the two
hehe braid trains are definitely a thing + kyouka and kenji (and maybe even dazai)
sometimes you have sibling swap days
you’re with junichiro for most of the day and atsushi is with naomi
strange i know
each of the tanizaki siblings try to make it fun bc they know that the two of you did not at all have a happy upbringing
junichiro likes spending time with you by taking you out to different places that naomi likes to frequent
like the mall, different stores and restaurants, the park, places like those
naomi does the same thing with atsushi so if you ever bump into them, you go out and eat together :)
besides atsushi, the next one in line who spoils you the most would be junichiro (and yosano & kunikida both coming in at a close third)
he honestly can’t help it; you remind him of how naomi was when she was younger
and besides
he’s always been a sucker when it came to the happiness of a little sister
“would you really buy this for me junichiro-san?!”
“of course! don’t worry about it” :)
wanna talk abt boys/girls/celebrity crushes things like that? naomi is your girl
you feel a bit embarrassed to go talking to yosano or your brother abt that and kyouka does not know a thing abt them either
“uwahh naomi-san look at all these people in this magazine! they look so good!”
“right?! but of course onii-sama is still the best—”
you get along with kenji and kyouka quite nicely being roughly the same age as them; they’re also like siblings!
just pure, wholesome vibes from the three of you
you’re over the moon when she finds out that kyouka is staying with you and your brother
atsushi is twice as happy seeing you talk your mouth off and finally having a girl around your age to talk to
“do you think demon snow can change how she looks?”
“hmm... im not sure...”
you and kenji talk abt anything and everything
he even teaches you how to take care of plants!
sometimes the two of you are kind of in the same boat bc you don’t know much abt yokohoma being stuck in the orphanage and kenji doesn’t know much abt cities in general
“wait where are we again kenji-san?”
“ah we’re close to the ports! but im not really sure how close because i don’t know what the symbols on this sign mean”
“don’t worry! neither do i!”
bonus things!
yosano was kind of too late teaching you abt you know what
“NII-SAN IM BLEEDING IN BETWEEN MY LEGS”
you’re sobbing in the agency’s bathroom and atsushi is panicking trying to get you to open the door
“Y/N?! H-HOLD ON LET ME GET YOSANO SENSEI”
ranpo overhears and cackles making everyone around him confused
suddenly atsushi bursts in the agency basically on the verge of tears rambling incoherent sentences abt the bathroom, you, and blood
it just clicked for everybody in the room
(im going to pretend that kenji has sisters back home so that atsushi is the only one who remain oblivious here hehe)
atsushi is genuinely confused and sort of concerned that no one is freaking out with him
yosano waves her hand saying smth like that she’d take care of it and junichiro pulls atsushi to the side to talk to him
fast forward like half and hour and dazai and ranpo are cackling on the looks of both of your faces
honestly not sure who’s more traumatized, you or your brother
“why does this have to happen” :(
“ne ne (y/n)-chan!~ you’re too young but at some point you’re not going to have it!”
“uwahh really dazai-san?” :D
“yeah! but first you have to have ANFK—”
next thing you know your ears are being covered by your brother and dazai is thrown across the room by kunikida
you know
the normal
you’re twelve and have never gone to school, but the agency takes care of that
it’s too dangerous to go to school so they teach you what’s necessary and whatever else they can
kunikida takes care of math (obviously)
yosano takes care of science/biology/anatomy/health (whatever you wanna call it)
ranpo even dragged poe to help you with english
atsushi even got lucy to help you out with english too!
as tanizaki and naomi used to be students, they give you their old work books and they try to teach you all the other subjects
sometimes kyouka and kenji are there learing with you too!
sorry if there’s some errors! i’ll read through it again later :)
and as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3
writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason
#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x reader#bsd anime#bsd manga#nakajima atsushi x reader#atsushi x reader#nakajima atsushi#atsushi nakajima#x reader#x female reader#plantonic headcanons#armed detective agency#ada#armed detective agency x reader#ada x reader#kunikida x reader#dazai x reader#ranpo x reader#yosano x reader#fukuzawa x reader#kyouka x reader#kenji x reader#tanizaki x reader#fluff#headcanons#anime#bsd headcanons#bungou stray dogs head canons#bsd scenarios#bunogu stray dogs scenarios
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For the Sake of Science
summary: spencer finds himself thinking...like a scientist. he thinks about to the first time fell in love, but ended up scarred. he think’s he’s in love, but he first needs to carry out an experiment for the sake of science.
pairing: spencer reid x fem reader
author’s note: i really hate writing summaries because it’s so hard to capture everything in one-two sentences.
warning: spencer’s internal thoughts are a lot; vague sexual harassments
For the Sake of Science
Spencer Reid thinks that there must be something wrong with him. He’s nearly 30 years old and still can’t shake someone’s hand or welcome one of Penelope’s hugs. He knows he’s different, but this — this makes him feel like a freak.
Maybe it was his childhood? Maybe because his mom couldn’t hold him or cuddle with him the recommended amount to develop secure attachment, he became touch averse. Maybe it’s because his dad left and he felt even more lonely with just his mom that the idea of being touched started to scare him. Or maybe it was the bullies — being stripped naked and mocked will do that to a kid, he thinks to himself. Or it could be even that he didn’t get his first kiss until he was 20 and the kisser being a boy, Ethan, threw a wrench in Spencer’s dreams of having someone who wanted to hold his hand in public or kiss him in the corridor and not care that people were looking.
Spencer is a product of his environment. As a psychologist he tells himself that a healthy mix of parent issues, childhood torment, and being left by the first person he really loved would cause anyone to be insecure in physical relationships.
But something has changed. He wants to hold someone's hand, and it doesn’t fill him with anxiety at thought. It doesn’t make him think of Ethan leaving him. It makes him feel light and floaty -- happy. Ever the scientist, Spencer decides to carry out an experiment on touch. And the subject of his experiment, Y/N, sits a couple feet away from him.
Spencer couldn’t really pinpoint when he started feeling differently about Y/N. Maybe it was when he noticed when her grapefruit perfume changed to cinnamon and something warm. Maybe it was when he noticed that she got really quiet on cases that dealt with family annihilators and the lines on her face would seem a little deeper. Maybe it was when he realized that her touch was much different than JJ’s or Penelope’s. Her touch was a lingering sting that left him craving more. It was like she picked up the pen Ethan left and dipped it into ink to trace the scars of heartbreak on Spencer’s canvas.
Her touch left him wanting more, needing more. Derek would tell him to ask her out. Take her to the movies and try to kiss her. But Spencer isn’t Derek Morgan, he’s Spencer Reid and hopefully that’s enough for Y/N.
________________________________________________________________
Spencer decides to carry out his experiment in the small kitchen that BAU shared with Sex Crimes. Like clockwork, Y/N walks from her desk to the kitchen at 9:34 to get a second cup of hot tea. She reaches up to the shelf to grab her cup that, much to Spencer’s delight, shared a spot next to his mug. He likes to look at the two mugs sitting next to each other and pretend that they aren’t shelved away in a small communal kitchen with a crappy coffee maker, but in their house, in their kitchen.
He checks his watch at 9:31 and heads into the kitchen. Spencer stands there waiting for his coffee to brew, and an eye watching out for when Y/N would walk through to the kitchen. He almost feels bad for hiding her step stool. Almost, but if it means he’d be able to carry his plan out , he’d be able to forgive himself.
“Hey, Spence. Isn’t that like your third cup in an hour?” Y/N says to him, smiling brightly. He moves the mug just slightly out of Y/N’s view.
“Uh-” Spencer starts. “I, well you know me! I love coffee.” Spencer says nervously.
Y/N looks at him, still smiling brightly. Spencer gives himself the benefit of the doubt, telling himself that she could be smiling at him, or even better because of him.
“You need all that caffeine to stimulate that genius brain of yours, Dr. Reid.” She says in a tone that Spencer could not decipher.
He feels his face flush and warm at her using her honorific. Spencer reminded himself of his goal, to figure out if he really does love Y/N. Part of him knows the answer, and the other part of him is too scared to get left in the dust again.
“Huh, that’s strange, where is the stool?” She says aloud, turning around to check the side of the cabinet for stool.
Spencer, whose plan was panning out flawlessly, took the opportunity to reach on the highest self for his mug. It was a plain looking mug, dark blue with his name labelled on the bottom, altering anyone that it was off limits. Until now.
He hands the mug to her in such a way that his finger tips would brush hers. Y/N’s surprised look melted into a pleased smile. Spencer does not want to let go of the mug, maybe it was a slight hesitation at the germs, or maybe it was him just wanting to keep her close for even a couple more seconds.
“I think you grabbed the wrong mug, Spencer” She says, handing him the mug back to its rightful owner.
“Hm, I don’t seem to see your’s Y/N. I guess maybe it-I don’t know” He says dumbly, this is the part of the plan that he was still a little unsure about -- talking to her. He turns, so his back is leaned up against the edge of the counter, so he hid her mug out of view.
“You don’t mind me using your mug, Spencer? Here I thought you wouldn’t shake my hand or even hug me?” She says with an amused tone in her expression.
The only reason Spencer hasn’t tried to hold her hand or hug her is because he knows he’ll never want to let go. He’d be left again - cold and alone.
“Germs don’t seem to be bothering me that much, Y/N” Spencer remarks.
“Hmm maybe it’s something about turning 30? Like you lose your germaphobia and start losing your hair?” She teases.
And then the unexpected happened. Y/N reaches up and ruffles Spencer’s hair. Her fingertips graze his scalp and Spencer forgets how to breathe. He wants to lean down into the touch and fully appreciate her attention.
“You know my birthday is coming up?” He asks. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, or maybe in some way Y/N remembers his birthday. Even though Spencer couldn’t forget her birthday if he tried, the idea of her purposefully remembering his birthday is something that gave him those butterflies.
“How could I forget the day that my favorite person was born?”
“I’m your favorite person?” Spencer speaks. He could feel his cheeks heat as she looked at him like what she just said didn’t just nearly kill him.
“Spencer, I’m pretty sure you are everyone’s favorite person. And well, only because Motel and Tzeitel are cats” She says with a wink, walking away with her hot cup of tea that Spencer didn’t even realize she brewed as he stood there.
He’s her favorite person. Her favorite person. Maybe this is going better than he expected. Maybe Spencer, a man of science, a man whose heart had been shattered one too many times would let himself have an ounce of faith. After all, he’s his favorite person’s favorite person.
“Hey Y/N!” Derek calls as the team walked back into the bullpen, all very tired from the case. Y/N, who was ahead of Derek, but right behind Spencer and JJ, turned to answer her friend.
“Whatcha going to do with Detective Dreamy’s phone number?” He asks, with a suggestive nudge.
Spencer stopped his walk back to his desk. His bag bounced against his leg, he tried to focus on how many times his watch ticked, he tried his hardest to ignore this conversation happening behind him. But something kept him glued to the spot.
“Huh? Oh you mean Detective Allen? Um, he’s uh...I don’t think it’s going to work out,” Y/N tells the group.
“What do you mean, Y/N. Allen seemed cute, for a man I guess,” Emily says with an eye roll. Her comment elicited a small chuckle from JJ.
“Yeah, and he’s a total pig head,” Y/N says, much to Spencer’s delight.
The team looks at her with an expectancy to continue. Spencer turns to face his colleagues, who gather around Y/N.
“He called me a and I quote ‘a fine piece of ass’ and that he ‘reckons girls with my job must know how to put out to get ahead’, so gross” She says, shivering at the thought.
Emily and JJ’s eye rolls and small comments reassured Y/N that if she wanted Penelope could find that man in three seconds and tell his mother what animal she raised. Derek tells Y/N that he could pay Allen a friendly visit to remind him why he got into the FBI. Frankly, doors aren’t that different from a 5’10 man.
Spencer sees red. There are times when he gets jealous of people who came and went in Y/N’s love life. He used to think that it was just a friendly protectiveness. He wouldn’t want JJ to get hurt by Will or Emily to get hurt by Natalie. But this is different. He feels mad that anyone would think that they could talk about Y/N like that. It’s not like he never thinks about her in less than professional scenarios. But they were usually thoughts about what noises she’d make or how beautiful her face would look like after he could kiss her as much as she’d let him.
If Spencer was a different man, a more confident, brazen man, maybe he’d pull Y/N to the side and tell her that she’s a brilliant agent. But Spencer still sees himself as that 22 year old who’s secret boyfriend left him for a gig in New Orleans.
If Spencer was a different man, a more suave, smooth man, maybe he’d kiss her on the elevator ride to the car garage. But Spencer’s quiet on the ride down. He can’t even look at Y/N, he just sees his last chance of happiness flush down a toilet.
If Spencer was a different man, a more assertive, romantic man, maybe he would have gone after Ethan. Maybe he would have chanced his chance at happiness, following the melody of the seductive jazz tunes, along with the pang in her heart. But Spencer thinks he just might let happiness slip through his fingers at the sad look on Y/N’s eyes as she leaves the elevator.
She does something that stops his internal crisis. Y/N stands in front of Spencer as they walk together, but not together to their cars. Spencer swears to himself that even without his eidetic memory he’d never forget the look on her face.
“Spencer, I um-” Y/N said, not making eye contact with Spencer. “I know that you don’t like to hug me or anything like that, it’s just I really need a hug right now,” she said, her eyes darting to the ground.
Spencer doesn’t say anything, instead he wraps his arms around Y/N. He never hugged anyone besides his mom or Ethan. It’s very different hugging Y/N than it was hugging them. For one, she was much shorter and her smell was different too. Sweeter and lighter than Ethan’s cologne, but it had a familiar welcoming and safe aroma. He doesn’t really know what to do with his hands, so he settles on placing one to rub gently on her back and the other tenderly cupped her head. He holds her as he craved that she’d hold him. For now, it was enough to just be the person that she came to when she felt like the world was against her.
“Thank you Spencer, I felt so gross and dirty from that asshat, so I just needed to feel like I’m not-”
“A piece of um- ‘ass’” Spencer says, air quotes and all.
Maybe it was the idea of Spencer cursing, but Y/N snorts at the sound of the unsavory word leaving Spencer’s lips.
“A fine piece of ass, Spencer” Y/N counters.
“Hey, Y/N you know that you don’t deserve that right, what I mean is that, you’re beautiful but that’s the least interesting thing about you,” Spencer says, taking his turn to stare towards the ground.
“Is that way you let me use your cup, Spence? You wanted to show me how you, uh, feel?” She questions, picking up his hand in hers. Her fingers traced the light lines on his palm.
“Hmm, you saw right through me, didn’t you?”
“I watched you hide the stool, Spence and you took my cup! You should have more faith in my profiling abilities” She says laughing.
“I was carrying out an experiment, Y/N.” Spencer explains.
“About what?”
“Um, so you know that I don’t really like being touched, it’s been a thing for a really long time. But for you, I’d rather die than to never feel your touch,” he professes.
“Hmm, well luckily for you, I think I can just make sure that doesn’t happen” She says, brushing his hair from his eyes. Her fingers graze over his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, and his lips. She’s careful in her touches. So light and tender, that she thinks he might break if she presses too hard or gives into everything she’s feeling. It’s so soft that Spencer has to strain himself to feel it. He moves his hands bravely to hug her waist.
Her light laugh breaks him from his trance. Maybe Spencer can remember what the poets were talking about when you hear the one you love laugh. Maybe he can recall what it feels like to be so important to another person. Maybe he can recollect what it’s like to have someone to call his and what it’s like to be someone’s someone.
Both their hearts are beating so fast that they meld into one beautiful beat. He holds her cheek in his hand as she cups the back of his neck, her fingers latched onto his hair. If he gets a chance, he needs to ask her if she likes his hair, because between the ruffles and the tugging, he’s sure it’s a thing. He turns off the part of his brain that can never be silent, or at least as much as he could when Y/N is gently wrapping her fingers in his hair and looking at him like she wants to kiss him.
“Spencer, um, you know for the sake of your experiment you should see if kissing elicits the same response. For science, hmm?” She reasons.
“Well, I can’t fight the scientific method, can I?” Spencer says, before he leans in to meet his lips to hers.
Y/N’s eyes flutter close as she presses her forehead against Spencer’s, who leans down slightly to reach her. Spencer feels dizzy with anticipation and a mix of pure euphoria. Her lips are softer than he imagined and she’s much more confident than him. She kisses the corners of his mouth, up his cheeks, and nose. It’s like she retracing the path that Ethan left open and raw. Her kisses heal him with the medicine of love and security.
Spencer knows he would never be the one to break the kiss. Or any kiss that they would share, if he ever got so lucky. He never wants to let go.
“Come on, Dr. Reid, I have an experiment of my own I want to try”
As Spencer walks to her car, he thinks about how well her palm fits into his. He thinks about how those butterflies are uncaged and free. Those Ethan shaped butterflies morphed into Y/N shaped butterflies. This love was different, because after all, he was different now. And different, different is good.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#dr spencer reid imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid deserved a happy ending#criminal minds fics#spencer reid x you#spencer reid reader insert#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff
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Smooth(ie)
*Inspired by this image 😍 he posted a while ago & the fact that I literally got my blender in the mail this morning lol ENJOY!
It was the start of a beautiful spring day, and once again, you were sitting at the island mesmerized by the man maneuvering in your kitchen. When you’d first met Kevin, he pretended that your apartment was on the same route as his daily run. He later admitted that he changed his route in hopes to see you more often...and it worked. Now, in a full-fledged relationship for the past 10 months, he ends his workout 3 times a week at your doorstep and takes over your kitchen and Ninja to make a smoothie you can’t seem to function without.
He’s a morning person and you’re the direct opposite, so you’re always grateful that he doesn’t make a fuss. He just shows up, glistening from an intense workout, usually in some sleeveless black tee and makes you want to risk it all right on this kitchen counter before the day officially begins.
“Baby, hellooo...you gon’ stop staring at my arms long enough to try this?”
Kev’s hand was extended towards you with a piece of some exotic looking fruit he wanted you to taste.
CRAP, caught. “I was not…”
With a smirk on his face. “Yeah...ok.”
“What is this?”
“Just try it.”
You oblige and take a bite, juice almost immediately running down your chin.
“Ok detective...I like it.”
Before you can grab a paper towel to wipe your face, Kevin has made his way in front of you to slowly lick the juice from your chin. Boxing you in place on the barstool with his arms on each side, staring into your eyes. Not beat for the wait, you grab his face and move in to finally connect with those lips. Kissing him feels like all the energy boosts, caffeine and vitamins you’ll ever need.
“I like these better though.” You whisper as you continue to graze his lips.
“Uh huh beautiful…” He says as he reluctantly walks away to pour your respective smoothies into glasses. “I told you I have a case.”
He hands you the glass and walks towards your balcony to sit outside. This was also a part of the routine. He’d sit out here under the guise of not ruining your couch with his funk, but you knew it was his attempt to wake you up by blasting you with the morning sun. You pretended to hate it at first, but you honestly cherished these mornings with him. He’d talk about the craziness he’d seen at work the night before, the stress and how he sometimes couldn’t sleep. You’d fallen in love with him because of this vulnerable side.
Feet up and nestled next to him on the chair.
“Voight loves me Kev, I think he’ll be perfectly fine with me calling out for you today.”
“He does love you...which isn’t easy to achieve...but hell no. He’d send Ruz right to your door to come get me.”
You both chuckled thinking back to the night that very thing happened a few months ago.
“How long this time?” You began to pick at the fabric on your sweater as a distraction...you always hated the answer to this question.
“A month….....in New York.”
You sit up to face him, trying to hide the sirens of shock and concern currently going off in your brain. As calm as you can pretend to be, “What’s in New York?”
“I’ll be working with Lindsay out there undercover on a case. But Ruz will be checking in on you here ok?”
“He’s not going with you? I always feel better knowing he has your back out there.”
“I know babe. But Erin is a badass too now...I’ll be fine.”
You hear your phone ringing inside, breaking the moment. You grab the empty glasses from the table before walking back in, wiping a tear that you hope Kevin didn’t notice was about to fall.
“I promise you baby, the month will be over before you know it!” You hear Kev yell as you search for your phone. You find it in the other room and wonder when you could’ve put it there.
Kim Burgess/FaceTime: you take a breath and decide to answer.
“Hey Kim.”
“Y/N...you ok?”
Holding back tears…. “Uh huh, yeah I’m fine. Kev just told me about New York. Why can’t Adam go instead?”
You both pause to look at each other and simultaneously reply…. “LOOSE CANON”, which cheers you up for a moment.
“And you know Voight trusts Kev. It’ll be great for his career too.”
“I know I know.”
“Is he there? I need to ask him something really quick and he didn’t answer my text earlier.”
“Yeah he's outside one second.”
You walk back out to the living room to find Kevin facing you from the balcony on one knee holding a gorgeous diamond ring. You stop in your tracks, as Adam appears on the screen next to Kim whistling like he’s at a hockey game.
“Ha! It worked! Go Kev!!!!”
Kim elbows Adam “Hush! Y/N, we love you guys.”
Standing directly in front of your boyfriend, still in shock, Kevin takes the phone from your hand and addresses the excited pair on the other end.
“Thanks y’all.”
Adam, of course...“Wait man, leave us on speaker. Don’t we deserve to hear the speech?”
Kim laughs as she disconnects the call.
After putting your phone down, Kevin grabs your hand and traces gentle circles on it with his thumb as he begins to speak.
“Y/N. I love you so deep I don’t even want to think about how empty my heart felt before you. I fight harder to survive out there because of you. I don’t care how grumpy you are in the morning, or how big these sweaters get that you put on when I wake you up...I want this with you every single day for the rest of our lives. Baby, will you marry me?”
With a face full of tears, you drop to your knees and crash into Kevin’s lips.
Breaking the kiss, he’s cheesing with the most adorable boyish look in his eyes. “Is that a yes??”
“YES. Yes of course!” Your hands are shaking so much he can barely get the ring on.
“I love you.”
#reelwriter19#kevin atwater x reader#kevinatwaterxreader#kevin atwater imagine#kevin atwater x black!reader#Chicago PD#fluff
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rq; could you possibly write a one shot about the reader having AD(H)D and has a really hard time focusing on core academics (math, science, english, history) because they feel scared about stimming and/or fidgeting in front of people and so they ask tamaki for help?
tw; very mild angst, fluff, stimming, i use the word ‘embrassing’ too much, swearing
words; 2.7k
it only took a moment of skimming over your latest progress report for you to understand the situation.
you continued to thrive in practical subjects like physical education, graphic design and manufacturing — the three main reasons you managed to secure your spot in the support course — but your core subjects seemed to be lacking.
for the last two years, you managed to score flying colours in all your subjects. but now, it was starting to appear as though your golden era was coming to a close. what was once a report with only scores greater than 90%, was now a range of totals anywhere from 90 to 50%.
this meant you were still passing all of your classes but these grades were only indications of how you were doing now; you knew that if you continued to struggle in all of your core courses, you might not finish your third year of UA highschool.
you simply wouldn't allow for your grades to decline further, so like any good student would, you made a list of ways you could improve.
number one was, of course, study more. however, you were almost certain that discipline and diligence aren't the causes of the issue.
number two was to ask for help from your teacher and although this was a completely valid option, you still felt like the problem ran deeper than your ability to comprehend the material. after all, you had made it this far without having to do so.
before you could even ponder number three, your pen ran out of ink. with a huff, you reach out to grab a new one from your pencil case, until you noticed that in the spot where your pencil case usually sits on your desk, there was nothing.
it was as though the void had caused all your memories of yesterday to come crashing down on you in an instant; it was almost nauseating. yet it, ironically, provided some clarity as to the location of your stationary.
two days ago, after school, you paid a visit to tamaki's house to deliver the gear he had commissioned. however, what was initially meant to be a casual interaction, somehow turned into a game of pictionary (with mirio and nejire there too, of course), for which you needed to bring your pencil case out of your bag. amidst your awkward goodbyes, you must've forgotten to put it back into your bag, hence your pencil case is probably lying dejected on tamaki's coffee table.
this left you with no choice but to throw on your jacket and begin your journey to tamaki's house. fortunately, he only lived a bus ride away from your home, yet you still mentally rebuked yourself for the whole length of aforementioned bus ride due to the fact that every time you would interact with tamaki, it felt like you were digging a deeper grave for yourself.
partially because you always found yourself oversharing with him — not that it was a one-sided ordeal — and you couldn't begin to explain why; he kinda just had a comforting aura about him. albeit you haven’t said anything embarrassing yet but the possibility of that happening was way too large. plus taking into consideration your complicated feelings for each other, leaving your pencil case at his house was a disaster waiting to occur.
or perhaps you were overthinking it. either way, you were now standing in front of his door with your school uniform and backpack on during a saturday afternoon because you had no idea what else to wear.
after ringing the doorbell, you stood as a patient statue in the cold until tamaki reluctantly opened the door and only poked his head out. “hello?”
emphasis on ‘only’, because he was truly committed to not allowing you to see him in his casual-wear, for some reason. a part of him reasoned that there was no way you would expect him to be wearing his school uniform on a saturday, but the majority of his brain was screaming about how he had to hide his clothes from you at all costs. especially since he was wearing socks, comfy trackpants and — most shamefully — a sweater with a small octopus design on it. and what would you think of him if you saw that his choice in loungewear was so childish?! it would be utterly humiliating.
completely unaware that tamaki was having a crisis behind the door, you pulled your most authentic smile and said the line you had been rehearing on the bus, “hi, tamaki. sorry for coming unannounced, but i think i left my pencil case on your coffee table when we were playing pictionary with mirio and nejire.”
“oh.” tamaki was almost too panicked to process what you just said but once he did, he immediately recalled the moment he noticed that you had left behind your pencil case. at the time, he planned on calling you to ask if he could drop it off at your house, but his nerves got the better of him and he decided to keep procrastinating the call until he completely forgot.
though, if he remembered correctly, the pencil case should be lying on his desk after he moved it there in hopes that the convenient location would remind him to return it; which it evidently did not.
“yeah. uh, i’ve got it. i’ll just go get it.” his face tingled with warmth slightly as he retracted it from the doorway, resulting in him finally realising how cold it is outside. in fact, since the eaves of his house shielded you for the climate, he didn’t even notice that it was snowing!
the polite bone in him got to work before the rest of him could react, as he blurted out, “come in, make yourself at home.”
fuck! i mean, it’s not that he doesn’t want you in his house — quite the opposite actually — but rather now he had to dart off to his bedroom before you could catch a glimpse of his sweater. but at least now this gave him an opportunity to change into something less embarrassing.
closing the door behind you, you were now left alone in tamaki’s living room. your eyes followed his figure as he dashed towards his bedroom, “odd.” you murmured to yourself. you weren’t exactly tamaki’s BFF but you were close enough to him that you could tell when he was acting weird.
but you didn’t think to much of it. actually, you were slightly grateful for this weird spike in tamaki’s behaviour because if he doesn’t want you around, that just means you are less likely to overshare and catch feelings, which means better outcomes in the long run, right?
after changing into a plain blue sweater and collecting your pencil case, tamaki strolled into the living room and handed it to you with a weak smile, “here you go.” he almost whispered, patiently waiting for your response so he could mentally prepare himself for goodbyes or another hour (or so) of conversation.
“thank you!” you basically squealed, pulling off your bag to stuff your pencil case back inside. while adjusting the straps on your shoulders, you took a moment to appreciate tamaki’s familiar attire, “oh, i love your sweater; i have a similar one with a cute little octopus on it.”
tamaki concluded that neither of you would be saying goodbye for a long while.
“thank you.” he responded with a soft smile, folding his arms over his chest as he made his way towards the kitchen, “um, so how are you?” he inquired, assuming that it was a pretty harmless question that would simply help get the conversation off the ground while he prepared tea.
“i’m good. but i don’t think i can say the same for my progress report.” you said with an awkward chuckle, standing aside as you watched tamaki put the kettle on. “and how are y--”
“what do you mean?” tamaki asked, disregarding the fact that he didn’t answer the question himself. although, simply put, this was because he found that conversation came more naturally to him when he was with you; or perhaps that is a slight overstatement. he tended to be more curious and inquisitive when talking to you and it wasn’t hard to tell.
until now you and mirio simply brushed it off as tamaki’s interest towards the support course, since you were the one who manufactured most of his gear. yet nejire always teased him as she believed that tamaki’s interest was caused by a different sort of passion.
nevertheless, regardless of tamaki’s motives, you still found yourself consistently answering his questions, “eh, well, i’ve just not been performing as well as i hoped.” you replied plainly with a shrug.
“is that all?”
no matter how many questions he asked, each one still managed to catch you off-guard. “um,” your throat ran dry, which might’ve been a sign from a deity to stop talking, but your swallowing was your way of proving that you did not care. although you will probably regret it later, talking with tamaki always relieved you.
“well,” you started, the lump in your throat growing by the second, “i guess i have a bit of trouble focussing in some classes too. but i mean, maybe it is because i drink too much caffeine? i’m not even sure to be honest.” that was lie, you were 90% sure of what the problem was, but you wanted to hear tamaki’s response before you proceeded, to determine whether he’d be open-minded about it.
“there is no such thing as too much caffeine.” he joked, handing you a cup of tea while he sipped on his own. “so it’s probably something else.”
he’s too good. it’s as if he knew you were withholding information.
“well,” you began once more, trying your best to appear clueless, “i guess moving helps me focus, but no once else in the class does it so wouldn’t it be embarrassing if i was the only one?”
“i don’t think it would be embarrassing at all.” he spoke softly, leading you back into the living room and offer you a seat on the couch beside him, which you graciously accepted. “but if you think it is, then i have something to help.”
before you could say anything, tamaki got up and headed towards his bedroom; leaving you to drink his heavenly tea while he searched. though, only a few minutes passed before you felt his arms slither over your shoulders to hook two clips together by your neck.
“there.” he said with a proud smile, “this is one of my cloaks that i use in my hero costume. you can tie it together so it covers the whole front half of your body.”
observing your reflection in the blackened TV, you smiled upon seeing for your own eyes that everything he said was true. it was like wearing a cape that goes around your whole body, and it had a nice hood! “wow, this is so adorable!” you cheered, then paused, “but how is it going to help me focus?”
“well, you can do whatever you want underneath it and no one will notice.”
ignoring the shady implications of that sentence, you moved your hand around underneath the cloak and he was right! no one would see you fidgeting underneath the cloak, and hopefully the professor’s voice would cover any sounds you made. plus, it looked pretty badass.
“this might work! are cloaks included in dress-code?” you joked, but you weren’t laughing for long as you turned to look at tamaki who was wearing an upset expression with his head hung low, “no.”
“oh.” you sighed, unclipping the cloak and handing it back to tamaki with a slight smile, “it’s fine. thank you for your help, and the tea. it was delicious, but i’ll probably have to start cutting back on the caffeine.” you gave it a chef’s kiss yet he didn’t even chuckle like he usually does. it was almost scary how your true emotions reflected onto him, as it seemed like the whole atmosphere had changed.
“(y/n).” tamaki uttered with a much more serious tone; eyes filled with determination yet trained onto the cloak in his hands. “you shouldn’t be embarrassed-- or at least, I, um, don’t think you should be.”
your eyes widened at how sternly he said the first part; granted, he became flustered when it came to the second part, but it really showed you how firmly he stood by what he was saying. you nodded for him to continue as he looked like he still had a lot on his mind.
“it’s unfair that you have trouble focussing because of what other people think. so my two cents is that you should do whatever you need to do, and, um, not care about other people... well, i mean, you should care about them, but just not what they think about you. because like, you can’t really control that--”
he found himself having to abruptly shut his mouth to stop himself from prattling on any further. especially since most of what he was saying was probably none sense that he mistook for inspirational, or at least that is what he gathered from the shocked look you wore; it was ironic how humiliated he was.
“that’s nice to hear.” you hummed, a kind smile gracing your features in place of the previous stunned expression, “though it’s hard to believe coming from someone as cool as you, tamaki.”
“cool?”
“yeah.” you chuckled, rolling your eyes at his baffled look which he must have been faking. surely he knows how highly thought of and respected he is throughout the whole school. he is in the big three, for fucks’ sake! “there is probably a better word to describe it, but you are one of the most badass people i know.”
“badass?” it was as if all he was capable of doing was repeating these words to you with an innocent yet confused gaze.
“yes!” you enthused, “so, is there anything you even have to be embarrassed about?”
“i do!” he almost whined, and without thinking, he stormed to his bedroom only to grab the sweater he cast aside earlier to show it to you, “look! an octopus sweater, isn’t this embarrassing?”
you deadpanned, unsure as to whether he was joking or not. “stimming is very different from a octopus sweater but go on.” however after a few moments of actually analysing the design on the article of clothing, you exclaimed, “oi, i have that exact same sweater! how is a cute little octopus embarrassing? plus, it would be extra cute on you because you have tentacles.”
in a moment of frustration and wanting to prove a point, he threw the sweater aside and began to sheepishly grab at the ends of his sleeves, “well, you know what’s even more embarrassing? having a crush on someone for three whole years and not having the balls to ask them out! and on top of that, being to nervous to return my crush’s stuff after you left it at my house.”
you weren’t sure if he meant to switch out ‘my crush’ with ‘you’ on purpose or if he was just confused. either way, you found yourself leaning in to wrap the poor boy in an overdue embrace, smiling against his chest as he hugged back. “that was..” you faltered, allowing tamaki to interject with “mortifying” but you were quick to correct him, “i think that was a very unique way to confess, and i'm just glad you did.”
your chuckle that followed was left to echo around the room as tamaki stood still and silent, simply enjoying the comfort in your arms as feeling the pleasure of time escape him. until eventually he whispered close to your ear, “so since i know more about embarrassment than you thought, will you take my advice now?”
you snickered, gently tracing shapes onto his back, “i was going to take your advice either way because if i don’t get good grades and remain in the support course, how will i graduate with you?”
“good point.” he hummed, not-so silently enjoying the relaxing sensations near his spine, “but we are not wearing matching octopus hats.”
how did manage to shoot down your idea before you even proposed it?
#tamaki amakiji#tamaki x reader#amajiki tamaki x reader#tamaki headcanons#tamaki fluff#bnha x gender neutral reader#tamaki x y/n#mha amajiki#mha tamaki#tamaki amajiki#amajiki x reader#bnha amajiki#amajiki tamaki imagine#my hero academia amajiki
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What Matters
Summary: It’s not that Virgil thought the dream would ever become a reality. It’s just that sometimes, it’s nice to see the flaws in his logic laid out plainly in front of him.
Notes: past abuse mention, past violence mention, nightmares, sympathetic dark sides and light sides
Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222 @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @basilthefourth @snowtrashowl @thefingergunsgirl @trashtm @stubbornness-and-spite @kieraelieson @alias290 @darkch1ld @craz-ewaters @damy-02 @frogdog145 @gattonero17 @madamedraconis @stoicpanther @@love-to-read02 @that-spider-fan-over-there @thatoneloudowl @rich-flower-17 @demigodbookdragon @i-gobymanynames
Masterpost
Virgil stumbled into the hallway, shivering under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, breaths coming in panicked, shuddering gasps as tears blurred his vision.
“It was an experiment, Virgil.”
“It seems the others were onto something, after all.”
Logan’s voice kept ringing in his ears (it wasn’t Logan’s voice, he knew that. He knew Logan would never say those things), cold and calculating, but smiling through the nightmare, relieved for things to finally return to how they were supposed to be.
It was a dream. Just a stupid, stupid dream that his idiotic brain had decided to torture him with tonight.
He’d never...had a dream like this before.
Virgil paused at the top of the stairs, hesitating with his arms wrapped around himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to decide what to do.
He knew it was ok to get someone after a nightmare. The others had practically insisted after they had learned how frequently he had them.
They all helped in their own way. Patton would chase away memories of the past, holding him close with promises that he was safe, that he would never be trapped again.
Roman offered distractions from his fears, colorful stories and grand reassurances, the prince swearing to fight off anything that might threaten his safety.
And Logan...Logan brought him back to reality. Logan calmed him down, grounded him, reminded him where and who he was. He pushed aside irrational fears and worries with his usual logic, his reasoning slowly putting Virgil’s racing mind at ease.
Logan was who he should go to now, after his dreams had warped reality, made him question his own safety in the waking world.
But...
A flash of pain, a hand grabbing the collar of his shirt and slamming him to the wall, hard enough to leave him wheezing.
It hadn’t been Logan. Logan would never. He’d promised, and proved his good intentions time and time again. Virgil wouldn’t be where he was without the logical side’s help through his recovery.
He trusted Logan. He loved him- he loved all of them more than he knew how to say. He owed them everything. So there was no reason his stupid brain should come up with something so horrific.
The things he’d been told hadn’t even made sense. It was just exhausted, paranoid thoughts that had unfortunately come to life in an incredibly vivid nightmare.
It was something he’d used to worry about, back when the others had first accepted him, Virgil’s terror and confusion convincing him that their kindness was fake, that they would turn around and hurt him too as soon as they were fed up.
He knew better now. They showed him every day, over and over and over again, that he was safe. That they loved him as much as he loved them. That he wasn’t the only protector in the mindscape.
That he didn’t deserve the pain. He never had.
His mind played tricks on him all the time. Hell, sometimes it liked to torment him just as much as the Others used to. He should be used to dreams like this by now. It shouldn’t be leaving him so shaken.
But the feeling had been so familiar, the dream so eerily vivid, digging up old, long buried fears. It had been confirmation that the Others had been right, that he’d deserved it all, that no one had ever actually wanted him to feel protected.
It was so stupidly unrealistic. And so, so terrifying.
He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, held his breath to make as little noise as possible, and descended the stairs by himself.
Besides, if he told someone about this particular nightmare, he’d only end up upsetting them. They didn’t deserve that.
So that was how Virgil ended up pressed into the corner of the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and willing himself to stop his violent trembling. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, unfairly realistic dream.
He didn’t turn on the television, despite knowing the sound would help distract him. His hands refused to move, still clutching tightly at the blanket around his shoulders.
He stayed where he was, distantly aware the other sides would be up in just a few hours, staring blankly at the wall, letting the awful dream replay over and over again in his head.
The first rays of pale sunlight had begun filtering in through the mindscape’s windows by the time Virgil heard movement upstairs, the familiar creaking of someone moving through the halls.
He didn’t move, despite how his back protested the way he’d been hunched over for quite a while now, watching warily as Janus made his way downstairs.
Virgil wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or relieved, but he couldn’t help but smirk at the way Deceit did a double take when he saw the anxious side huddled up on the couch.
He knew Janus had only recently learned what had happened to Virgil, the beatings always happening when his back was turned, and since Virgil hadn’t actually been the one to say anything, he had no idea how much Deceit knew.
It still made him uneasy sometimes, the worried, guilt ridden looks he occasionally caught the snake watching him with, the glances he and Remus would share, the less than subtle attempts to give him his space.
Virgil seemed to be the only person Remus was actually careful around, the Duke sure to lower his volume and tone down his movements when the anxious side was in the room (which wasn’t saying much considering the energy Remus had, but Virgil appreciated it regardless), and ever since the panic attack in the kitchen, Virgil hadn’t seen his Morning Star anywhere in sight.
It was a work in progress, Virgil still wary and unsure around him, but the two of them were gradually learning to coexist and understand each other.
Janus was...a different story.
A blind man could see the guilt Deceit was carrying onto, the denial, shock, and anger that never seemed to give him a moment's rest.
Or maybe Virgil was just able to pick up on it because he’d gone through the exact same thing. He still was.
Deceit, self proclaimed lord of the lies, hadn’t picked up on the violence and abuse the others had put Virgil through, never once allowing himself to pick up on the little white lies thrown around to keep Virgil helpless.
And as much as he wanted to sometimes, Virgil couldn’t blame Janus. It wasn’t his fault- the others had known what they were doing, and they’d known Janus would put a stop to it the second he found out. Kicking Virgil around was a pastime they were far too invested in to lose.
But there were days when pain and sickening fear from memories that wouldn’t leave him alone, when flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks became too much to handle, that Virgil wished, more than anything, that Janus had intervened. That he’d let himself look closer. That it all could have stopped sooner.
And he knew Janus wished the same thing. It was probably why he was awake at five in the morning looking like death warmed over.
Janus was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, and Virgil offered a shaky peace sign in greeting.
“Hey,” he said, grimacing when he realized that it absolutely looked and sounded like he’d been crying for the past hour and a half. Great. “You’re up early.”
Janus seemed to visibly regain his composure, quickly straightening his back and offering a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Look who’s talking.”
“I’ve been up a while.”
He saw Janus frown at that, fiddling with his sleeves, uncertain. “Are you...alright? Do you want coffee?”
And yeah, that was as much of a heart to heart as either of them were going to have this early in the morning. Virgil wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about how one of the most ridiculous nightmares he’d ever experienced had left him trembling and crying like a child afraid of the dark.
“Fuck, yes please. Go get me caffeine.”
It was enough to get a genuine smile this time, some of the tension seeping out of Deceit’s shoulders as he made his way to the kitchen.
He was fine. He was home, he was safe, and things were good. The nightmare would fade, as dreams do, and in a little bit they would all eat breakfast together like a family. Like they always did.
There was absolutely no reason he should still feel so scared. He should be looking forward to everyone waking up, not feeling like he was being led down to the gallows with every tick of the clock.
Janus was back in just a few moments, two plastic mugs in his hands, and Virgil tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped at the sudden thought of what would happen if he spilled on the couch after he was handed his drink.
Nothing. Nothing would happen and no one would be mad. God, he needed to get a hold of himself.
Nothing was going to change. And yet…
“Janus?” he asked quickly, the other side stopping in his tracks. “Where...where are you going to be today?”
He could feel Janus staring, but Virgil now kept his gaze firmly on the steaming coffee in his lap.
“My room, most likely,” he said. “I have some things to attend to today.”
“Could you-” God, this was stupid, this was so needlessly stupid. “Could you like...leave your door unlocked? Just- um...just in case?”
“Just in case...what, Virgil?”
“Y-you know.” And really, what was he supposed to answer with? Just in case he’d suddenly been granted the gift of prophetic dreams and he needed a place to hide when Logan started beating him? “Just...in case.”
He risked a glance up, relieved when there was no ridicule or annoyance in Janus’s eyes, just gentle confusion like he was trying to silently pick apart Virgil’s thoughts.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “My door isn't open if you need anything.”
It was...new, Virgil realized, having these careful, honest conversations with Janus. He wasn’t about to drop all his defenses and retell the details of his nightmare, and Deceit knew that, but they were still miles better than they’d been just a week ago.
“Thanks, Janus.”
Janus made his way back upstairs, hopefully to get some more sleep, and Virgil settled back against the couch, significantly less shaky than before. It was just a stupid dream. He’d be ok.
Virgil was aware he was being a complete asshole.
He’d made the mistake of assuming the paranoid jumpiness from his dream would fade as soon as the mindscape came to life and everything continued on as normal. He hadn’t expected it to get worse.
He was pretty sure Roman and Patton could tell something was up, but Virgil managed to plaster on a nervous smile and force himself to breathe easy as he was seated at the kitchen table, listening to Roman ramble as Patton started cooking breakfast.
And then Logan was walking in, muttering a quiet greeting, and the panic had hit full force.
Which was completely ridiculous, especially as Logan just offered him a warm, tired smile and made his way over to the pot of coffee.
It was the same Logan he saw every morning- welcoming and safe, and a very large part of the progress Virgil had made over the months.
Logan would never hurt him, nobody would...no one was going to…
“Come here, Virgil.”
There were hands grabbing at him, nails digging into his skin, overpowering and so painfully familiar.
“Virgil!”
“Virgil?” Logan was looking at him now, brow pinched, and suddenly they were all staring at him and Virgil couldn’t breathe- when had it become so hard to breathe?
He stood up from the table, the chair scraping against the floor and nearly tipping over in his rush, stuffing his hands deep into his hoodie pockets to hide the way they were shaking.
“I- uhm, I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t have any other excuses. No good ones at least. But the panic was wrapping around him like a vice, cold, cruel hands squeezing his neck, and Logan was taking a cautious step towards him--
Virgil sank out without another word, his mind momentarily set back to the old, terrifying mindset, screaming at him to get out, to run and hide before someone grabbed him…
God, what was wrong with him?
He ended up locking himself in his bathroom, turning on the sink so the rushing water would drown out his rapid, panicked breathing, turning harshly away from his reflection in the mirror.
He was fine, he was fine, he was...trying really hard not to plan out escape routes and hiding spots in his head.
It was an old habit that had practically been second nature to him before living with the light sides, and even a few weeks after. It had helped him feel at ease, pinpointing places he could keep himself hidden and out of the way, even if it often proved to be pointless.
It was how he’d ended up in the closet, covered in blood with shards of glass coating his skin, so deep in his panic he’d been convinced his family was hurting him.
He couldn’t risk falling back into old habits. Not now, when he’d been making so much progress. Not over something as meaningless as a dream.
But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the bathroom. Not when so many eyes would be on him the second he stepped back into the kitchen.
So he took extra time to do his makeup, layering on black eyeshadow to cover up how utterly exhausted he looked from his restless night, and took another few moments to stare blankly at the wall when he still wasn’t quite ready to come out.
When Patton came to check on him, Virgil blamed it on a bit of queasiness and promised to eat something later.
The guilt became suffocating when he realized the panic didn’t return with Patton’s voice, but it definitely was back with a vengeance when he heard Logan walk down the hallway a few moments later.
Logan didn’t deserve this. Everything the logical side had done for him, the endless patience, assistance, and careful compassion, and Virgil was right back to being a pathetic mess.
So maybe that was why he didn’t bother to be subtle about trying to avoid Logan for the rest of the day. Besides, even if he did try to hide his uneasiness, the logical side was always able to pick up on the little things. It would just be a wasted effort.
Virgil stayed cooped up in his room as much as he could, blasting music in his headphones to drown out any sounds.
When he did leave (at Patton’s gentle insistence that he eat something for lunch) he was sure to never end up in the same room as Logan, quickly retreating or sinking out whenever the logical side walked in. He resolutely ignored the twisting guilt in his gut at Logan’s small frowns when Virigl would blurt out some half hearted, see-through excuse each time.
He just needed a day or two. Just a little bit of time for the residual panic to fade and for things to go back to normal. It wasn’t logical, maybe, but...Logan would understand if he knew.
Except he wouldn’t, and that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?
Virgil was well aware how difficult he was to deal with, especially earlier on. Logan had sacrificed so much time and effort to teach him, and the others, how to gradually undo the mindset Virgil had been conditioned to have.
All that work, all that trust, and Virgil was letting one night of nightmares influence him more than any of it. Logan...Logan would probably be furious with him.
But not enough to hurt him. Never enough to hurt him.
Virgil wasn’t...afraid of Logan. Despite proving the exact opposite every time he so much as caught a glimpse of the logical side today, Virgil was still coherent enough to know Logan wasn’t going to turn his back on a year’s worth of progress to strike him.
It was just...instinct taking over. Besides, in the nightmare, Logan’s reasoning for needing to hurt Virgil hadn’t been completely unreasonable.
Hell, before Logan had explained otherwise, Virgil had thought it was totally understandable that he needed to be hurt. He hated it, but it helped Thomas. That was a fact.
And like Logan always said, numbers didn’t lie. If Virgil being in pain was beneficial, then Virgil would stay in pain.
But Logan had been the first one to tell him that was false. He’d been the one to lay out the real facts and evidence to show how Virgil hurting would only worsen Thomas’s health, and his own.
They’d all helped Virgil realize, for the first time, that he never should have been hurt. He’d never deserved it. Any of it.
That was why he just needed to wait it out. He couldn’t talk this one out with the others, couldn’t face Logan just yet. It would just end up hurting him (that was what Virgil did best, after all) and Logan didn’t deserve that.
Unfortunately, Virgil was starting to really wish he’d had the courage to ask for reassurance when the sky grew dark and the mindscape quieted, and he quickly realized he was far too on edge to go to bed.
He was right back on the couch where he’d started the day, somehow even more jumpy and paranoid than he’d been that morning. He stared blankly at his phone, wondering if the dream would return if he fell asleep.
Great. He’d probably be pulling an all-nighter. Maybe multiple if he couldn’t get a grip. Patton was going to kill him when he found out.
“Virgil?”
Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed at the voice from the staircase, breath catching in his throat as he dug his nails into the couch cushions. He didn’t look up, even as he felt Logan’s eyes on him, completely frozen under the weight of his gaze.
“Virgil,” Logan said again, steady and emotionless, impossible to read. “May I speak with you?”
Virgil’s heart was beating in his now tightening chest, and he furiously told himself to calm down. But his body wasn’t cooperating with his mind, panic overpowering reason, and Virgil desperately searched for an excuse before Logan could realize how terrified he was.
“I- um...I was just heading to bed, so--”
“I only require a moment of your time,” Logan said. “As you usually sleep at a much later hour than this, I’m sure that won't be an issue.”
Virgil took a shaky breath, wincing when he realized how obviously unsettled he must look. Logan didn’t sound angry, but...well, it was always so hard to tell.
But there wasn’t a way out. He just hoped he could play it off long enough for Logan to give up. “Ok. Yeah, what’s...what’s up.”
He tried not to think about how eerily similar this was to the nightmare. How Logan had calmly asked to speak with him. How he’d pulled out his notebook and presented neatly recorded data of Virgil’s health paralleled with Thomas’s.
“It seems Thomas’s productivity has only decreased since we began treating you as an equal, Virgil.”
“It seems the Others were right, your pain does make life easier.”
“We will, of course, have to return to that method. You understand, I’m sure.”
Virgil resisted the urge to flinch as Logan sat down at the other end of the couch, careful to keep his distance.
He wrapped his arms around himself, shuddering under the phantom feeling of hands grabbing him, so tight it bruised his skin, both from nightmares and memories he could never let go of.
“You’ve been avoiding me today.”
Virgil did flinch this time, curling into a tighter ball. “N-no I haven’t.”
Yeah, that was convincing. He could practically picture the exasperated eye roll Janus would give him if he were here. He kind of wished someone else would show up- anything to cause a distraction.
Logan wasn’t here to hurt him. Logan would never hurt him. No one would hurt him.
“I can...see my presence is causing you some distress,” Logan said, and Virgil felt like crying. “I do not wish to force you to speak with me, but I’ve clearly done something to trigger a reaction.”
He paused, obviously waiting for some kind of response or confirmation. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, and Logan sighed before continuing.
“It was never my intention to do anything to upset you. As is always the case, I only wish to identify the trigger so it does not happen again, and offer my sincere apologies. But I cannot do that if you won’t talk to me, Virgil.”
God, why couldn’t Logan just be angry? He wouldn’t go back for anything in the world, but sometimes…
Sometimes it felt like being screamed at, punched and kicked and thrown around until he couldn’t move had been easier. At least then, he knew what to expect.
Nobody had cared about him back then. And now...now Logan, Patton, Roman, Janus, and even Remus just wanted him to be ok. It scared him sometimes, how much he loved them.
“It...it’s not that,” Virgil said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s...fuck, you didn’t do anything Logan. You...you’re fine.”
Logan was silent a moment before responding. “I find that hard to believe. You are currently under visible distress, which didn’t begin until after I made my presence known. This has happened every time I have walked into the room today. You skipped breakfast after I--”
“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Virgil winced at his own outburst, now looking anywhere but at Logan. God, why was he always such an asshole? “I’m...sorry. I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to...it’s just me, ok? I’m being stupid like always and--”
“You are not stupid,” Logan cut in, that stern but gentle tone he always used to talk Virgil out of a self deprecating spiral. “You tend to overthink and jump to often unrealistic conclusions, but as I have told you many times that does not change how intelligent and thoughtful you are.”
Virgil shrugged, the praise just making him feel more guilty about what he was putting the logical side through. “I’m still being stupid, though.”
“Falsehood. Something has frightened you, and clearly I am at the source. I only wish to assist.”
Well. Now he was going to have to tell Logan. Even if he was upset afterwards, annoyance was far better than Logan walking around, weighed down by guilt and blaming himself for something he didn’t do.
But apparently Virgil hesitated just a second too long, and Logan was suddenly speaking again.
“Perhaps we can try a different approach,” he offered. “Could you...explain why you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?”
Virgil took a shaky breath. “You’re...gonna be mad.”
“At you?” Logan asked, and Virgil nodded. “I sincerely doubt that. Why do you believe I’m going to be angry?”
Virgil hunched over himself, and suddenly everything came spilling out. “Because...because you’ve done so much. I owe you all everything and I still...I’m still letting myself panic over a stupid fucking dream. After everything! And you...you don't deserve that. I-I’m sorry for avoiding you I didn’t mean to- to make you think--”
There was a hand on his shoulder, barely brushing the cloth of his hoodie, but Virgil still flinched back before he could stop himself, and Logan quickly pulled away.
“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “I- I’m not--”
“No apologies necessary,” Logan said, sounding much more calm than Virgil would have expected. “There’s no shame in being affected by a particularly bad dream.”
Virgil scoffed, glancing up just enough to see Logan’s worried frown. “Sure.”
“I mean it, Virgil. Especially considering your past. I understand if a vivid nightmare was enough for you to revert back to an old mindset. Staying vigilant and avoiding threats is what kept you safe back then, isn’t it?”
Safe was a strong word- he had never really been safe before, but...avoidance had been a survival technique. If he thought someone was angry, the only thing he could do was stay out of their way and hide.
“But it’s you,” he argued. “I...it was so stupid you- you were saying that they were right. When...when they said that hurting me helped Thomas, and then...and then you showed me all this- this fucking data or whatever that me being safe hurt everyone and I...y-you all said I had to go back to how it was and I…”
He trailed off, face burning when a few traitorous tears slipped down his cheeks, and he furiously wiped them away with his sleeves, breathing deeply.
“Virgil--”
“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I’m...I know it’s dumb, ok? It’s just a stupid dream and you would never...I mean, if any of that was true you would have said something months ago, right?”
For the first time, he looked up to meet Logan’s gaze, suddenly finding himself speechless at the sheer amount of emotion behind his glasses. Warm but worried, calculating and understanding.
And then, slowly, he was standing from the couch. “Please wait here just a moment, Virgil. I believe there is something you should see.”
And then just like that he was gone, hurrying up the stairs without another word. For just a second, Virgil considered retreating, and apologizing for this entire conversation tomorrow when he was more put together.
But he didn’t need to make this any more unfair for Logan than it already was. Besides, the logical side was back in less than a minute, something held tight in his hand as he returned to his spot on the couch.
“What’s that?” Virgil asked, hoping his voice didn’t betray just how sickeningly nervous he felt.
Logan held it out to him, slow enough that Virgil didn’t flinch at the movement. He took it in his hands, realizing it was a plain black spiral notebook, and his heart clawed its way up to his throat.
“What’s--?”
“Flip through it, please,” Logan said calmly. “I believe you’ll find it interesting. And it may do something to set your mind at ease.”
So far it was doing the exact opposite, but Virgil obeyed and slowly began turning the pages.
It was clearly well-used, the some of the pages bent or wrinkled, but other than that it was still pristine and organized like everything that belonged to Logan.
Some pages had hand drawn graphs or what looked like data tables, others had written entries in Logan’s writing. Virgil skimmed through them, catching glimpses of his name, and occasionally the other’s, all of the descriptions of events and conversations vaguely familiar.
He had...absolutely no idea what the hell this was.
And Logan apparently picked up on that, the logical side suddenly clearing his throat and scooting closer, still far enough away for the couch to not feel crowded.
“It’s, uhm...well, you see when we had first learned of your past I wanted to ensure that we found the best methods to help you feel...safe. And at home. I suppose I should have told you, I completely understand if you’re--”
“Wait a second,” Virgil said, the pieces falling together. “This is...you kept notes on me? On...my recovery?”
It was Logan’s turn to avoid his gaze now, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized Logan looked nervous.
“I apologize if it is invasive,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t my intention. It’s a bit of a habit, I suppose. I tend to take extensive notes on things I find...important. And finding the best way to help you was incredibly important to me, Virgil.”
Virgil felt like crying again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “Lo, that’s...god, that’s so fucking sweet.”
Logan’s head snapped up, eyes widening when he saw Virgil’s widening smile. “I- you believe so?”
“Dude, are you kidding? I’ve never...sometimes I just...can’t believe how much you guys care.”
Logan matched his smile, and carefully, slowly enough that Virgil could pull away, scooted closer to see the open notebook.
“I’ve been sure to document all of your progress at least once a week, no matter how small. And there has been a lot of it, even if you don’t always think so.”
“Logan--”
“But the reason I wanted you to see this today,” he continued, reaching over to turn a few pages. “Is because I occasionally compare your progress to Thomas’s productivity and overall wellbeing.”
Virgil had absolutely no idea what the graphs and symbols Logan was pointing at meant, but the other side was right there to explain it to him.
“Your progress, as well as how safe you began to feel around us, directly parallels Thomas's increased mental health. You being safe and healthy makes him better, Virgil. You being happy makes us better.”
And...yeah, there was absolutely no way for Virgil to stop himself from crying this time. He didn’t really have any intention to stop, anyway. It was a nice change of pace to cry from happiness for once.
Logan, unfortunately didn’t seem to know the difference. “I am...so sorry, I didn’t mean to--”
Virgil cut him off by pulling him into a hug, holding on tight and squeezing his eyes shut. Logan relaxed against him, and slowly moved to wrap his arms around Virgil’s back.
“I was going to offer you space and time to recuperate,” Logan said, and Virgil tightened his grip. “I’m pleased to see you are considerably less afraid of me now.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Virgil said quickly, not yet ready to pull away. “I’m not...and I wasn’t, I promise I just...my stupid brain is always--”
“Your brain is not stupid,” Logan chided, and Virgil dropped his arms when he pulled back. “It’s had to learn to keep you alive under very unfortunate circumstances. It’s a survivor.”
Virgil snorted, despite the way his chest felt light at the words. “I mean...I guess so.”
Logan leaned back against the couch, the notebook still open in between them, and he drummed his fingers against his thigh before speaking again.
“Something I need you to understand,” he said. “Is that in the grand scheme of things, the contents of this notebook don’t matter.”
“But it’s--”
“We were correct in assuming that helping you would, in turn, help Thomas. But even if we were wrong, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter if there were benefits, and it wouldn’t matter if keeping you safe negatively affected Thomas. You would never, ever be struck. You would never be beaten or grabbed or screamed at or threatened. No matter the situation. It would never be an option to us.”
There it was again, like he’d heard so many times before but so, so much more intense tonight. The compassion, the dedication, the emotions Logan denied while feeling so strongly.
Virgil blinked away a new wave of tears. “I...I don’t ever want to hurt Thomas.”
“Then it is a good thing this is only hypothetical,” Logan said. “You very clearly do no such thing. I only wanted you to understand that no matter the circumstances, your place with us will never change. You will never have any reason to fear for your safety again.”
Virgil didn’t know how Logan did it, how the side who claimed to be the most alienated when it came to emotional responses, always seemed to be able to make everything right.
The jumpiness and awful paranoia had already almost completely faded, leaving behind a soft blanket of soft fatigue.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, and Logan smiled.
“Of course. I’ll remind you any time you need. Would you like to be alone, or would you like to stay with me tonight?”
Virgil smiled, wiping his eyes again. “Can I stay? Please?”
Logan reached out a hand, his own smile gentle and warm, and Virgil knew they’d both be passed out to some old space documentary like they usually did when Virgil had a bad dream.
“Of course, Virgil.”
#remember when i said i was going to post this like 6 hours ago#sanders sides#thomas sanders#virgil sanders#ts virgil#logan sanders#ts logan#patton sanders#ts patton#roman sanders#ts roman#janus sanders#ts janus#remus sanders#ts remus#sympathetic dark sides#abuse tw#past abuse tw#violence mention tw#writing#fanfiction
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topaz devices | ch. 01
if zhongli isn’t a the brightest individual blessed by the archons, then he’s socially inept, and spends his days stuck behind a desk as the heir of wangsheng incorporated. frustrated by seeing his best friend burn through his days like paper over a bonfire, childe decides that if there’s one thing worse than a permeant desk job, it’s being converted into a corporate machine in one’s mid-twenties. and he’s not going to let that happen to zhongli.
gender-neutral reader x sugar daddy!zhongli. modern au, slow burn. chapter 1/?. 2213 words.
as usual, zhongli awakens a minute before his morning alarm goes off.
and as he lays on the daybed, adjusting to the faint lighting of the moon that floats through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, the first thing he does is reach for his phone. but when he pats down the area beside him, then above his head, and feels nothing, he begrudgingly props himself up on his elbows, and blinks the final bits of sleep out of his eyes.
this isn’t the first time he’s fallen asleep at the office. admittedly, it’s probably over his hundredth, since he’s found it more practical to crash near his workspace than drag himself three floors up to his room. but, oh, where did he leave his phone? zhongli glances around, eyes no longer bleary; it’s not on the coffee table next to him, nor on the floor between it and the daybed, and for a split second he believes he left his phone at the tea station across the hall.
and then it chimes with his alarm on the marble floor just before his work desk.
“ah,” he sighs to himself, voice still somewhat choked from the morning. as the tone plays, he runs both of his hands through his hair, pulling back his bangs before letting them fall to the sides of his face, and takes a glance around his office: he vaguely remembers staying up until four in the morning to finish scanning over a forwarded contract, and the three empty cups of caffeinated tea that surround his desktop computer can attest to his commitment; there are reference binders on his desk that zhongli hadn’t put away after using, likely too engrossed in the project to tidy up as he worked, and the most damning evidence of his corporate devotion is easily the fact that, well –
“conference in one hour,” his phone alarm is interrupted by the sound of its virtual assistant voice. “conference with,” it continues in robotic fashion, “mrs. ningguang at seven-thirty-a.m.”
– he had scheduled an impromptu meeting after he finished reading said document. as in, he intended to follow through with a meeting arrangement on less than four hours of sleep. as in, arranged a meeting when it was three in the morning.
as in, he also expected others to attend the conference on a four hour’s notice.
such is the way of wangsheng incorporated, an institution where everyone involved is asked to sell their soul to the matriarch, all for the prosperity of her company. the matriarch in this case being, of course, zhongli’s mother.
“conference with,” his virtual assistant repeats, and zhongli hauls himself up from the daybed and onto his feet, padding over to his phone before swiping over the screen to silence all of his notifications. “mrs. ninggua – ” beep.
he inhales, stretches his arms, and then gazes out to the liyuen skyline.
the horizon is still dark, with only hints of warmth leaking onto the expansive blanket of night. below, however, the streets are illuminated by commuting vehicles and establishments opening for the day. from his place on the higher floors of the company building, zhongli can only imagine the hum of life – he’s much too far up to actually hear anything.
it’s at this moment he realizes that the last time he’s actually stepped foot out of the building was over a week ago – and a grimace becomes his first expression of the day. archons, he didn’t think he was that busy, but begins mentally count the days regardless. yeah, 9 days. zhongli’s frown deepens; knowing himself, it’s probably also been 9 days since he’s left his floor on the building.
as much as he would like to leave, though, the company is more important to him. until there’s a convenient time for him to take a break, he’ll keep working. it’s what he’s always done – it’s what he’s good at.
so he inhales once more, as the skyline is washed with violet. exhales.
the clock reads six thirty-three.
. . .
it’s around four in the morning when childe decides that zhongli is officially insane.
who the fuck arranges a meeting in the dead middle of the night? granted, he’s only zhongli’s secretary, so it’s not like he has to take part in it – the gripe here is that he’s the one who manages zhongli’s entire schedule. so when zhongli goes out on his own, arranging things without telling him first, that’s when the issues start.
childe receives the conference notice just as the other executives do (while on a comfortable date with his bed); reading zhongli’s attached note with gunk wedged in his eyes and a screen flashing blue light directly into his irises makes him think –
there’s no way zhongli’s in the right state of mind. and after three whole years of working with him, others would think that childe’s used to his mercurial behavior by now. but he would give himself more credit, insisting that he’s not that deep into the corporate mentality to put business before rationale – but maybe it’s the luxury that comes along with being a secretary and not anyone more important.
now, where was he? oh, yeah. plotting exactly which words to tell his boss when it’s an acceptable time in the morning.
that means grumbling obscenities until he falls back asleep, brain power exhausted. that means waking up at an appropriate time (read: six), rolling out of bed, then heading to the tea bar, and concluding that, well, this is just how zhongli operates.
as in, he can’t be angry at his best friend for long.
ceramic cup in hand and bedhead as thick as a haystack, childe recalls two things that were previously clouded by his indignance: one, that the business life is all zhongli’s ever known, even when he was a kid (that much was made obvious when he couldn’t even list out how many hobbies he had the first time they met). two, the fact that, when asked, zhongli didn’t know which would be worse between losing stock investments or entire contact with the outside world.
sheltered is probably the closest word childe can think of, but zhongli isn’t stupid either. maybe socially inept is the better way to describe him – not like it cripples his personality entirely though. he’s got some redeeming qualities – childe tells himself to think positively of zhongli for the entirety of his stroll down the hall towards his office – but stops short once he opens the door and realizes that, well,
“three,” childe mouths incredulously, nearly dropping the ceramic in his hand. “three cups of tea from last night alone?”
“good morning to you too.”
childe doesn’t have much time to gawk. he would drag his face down with his fingers if his hands weren’t occupied, but knowing zhongli, he wouldn’t even make note of his dramatics. absorbed into his work first thing in the morning – and childe, looking down at himself, isn’t even dressed properly. just a dress shirt and pants, while zhongli has already decked himself out in a full-piece suit.
that’s what happens when zhongli decides that his office is where he’s going to live.
“you know,” childe starts, sighing for good measure. the ginger makes his way over to zhongli’s desk, replacing the three cups with one of fresh tea. glaze lily tea, to zhongli’s preference. “staying up late isn’t good for your health. especially when you’re high on caffeine six days a week.”
well, duh. the words come out dumber than he intended, but it gets the point across. it’s not childe’s job to sound intelligent, only that he knows how to manage someone else’s schedule.
it takes a few seconds for zhongli to respond, as his fingers are busy typing away at the keyboard. drafting another email, most likely. in that time, childe hooks his fingers through the handles of the three cups zhongli had downed the previous night, preparing to carry them out. “i do what i need to get things done,” the workaholic counters. his eyes don’t leave the monitor for a second, and childe has half the mind to think that he’s a robot. “we’ve talked about this before.”
zhongli’s not wrong, but childe’s face sours nonetheless. “i can’t have the heir of the company sabotaged by his own toxic work ethic, and insist that you take a nap whenever possible, my liege.”
his dramatics doesn’t earn him any points. he worries briefly that zhongli’s already gone into his own world, only able to be hauled back to the surface once the sun is far gone, and his eyebrows furrow. but now bent on getting a constructive response from zhongli, he refuses to budge from his spot across the desk.
almost as if he’s uncomfortable, zhongli looks up. childe knows he’s not actually peeved, and that the brunette is just thinking of what to say. three years of working for him taught him as much. “if i have time to, then i will.” the young heir averts his eyes towards the screen before meeting childe’s again. “thanks for your concern.”
if childe were any other person, he would believe zhongli. zhongli speaks without a falter in his voice – as if it weren’t already as smooth as velvet – and his eyes are resolute when locked onto his. but he’s not someone else, and the closest individual to a friend that zhongli has. it would be a disservice, both as a friend and coworker, to leave zhongli to his devices. so childe doesn’t relent. it’s his turn to be stubborn and set in his ways.
he places the cups back onto the desk, and the other man looks up curiously, just in time to see childe’s eyes narrow. “i mean it, zhongs.”
and, with just as much performative sincerity as before, zhongli says the same thing he always does, with a straight face and empty eyes. “i do, too.”
“no, you don’t.” childe’s scowl is as deep as his concern. he wasn’t joking earlier when he said that zhongli would be murdered by his own obsession with work – “responsibility,” as the younger of the two would insist, but he’s blind to his own persistence, and time has made that blatantly obvious. “i know you have a meeting soon, so i won’t stay long. i don’t care if we’ve talked about this before,” he rushes his words, determined to get them in before zhongli quips, “it doesn’t make it any less important.”
a pause. zhongli’s typing has halted and is instead replaced by silence. hell, he even folds his fingers together on top of the keyboard, as if telling childe that he finally has his full attention. but the void in his eyes hasn’t changed: amber, clouded with vermillion, and burning in coals.
childe assesses him sternly, extending the stillness of the moment, before proceeding. “i’m going to block out your schedule tonight after eight, and we’re going to have a talk.”
zhongli tries not to look fazed. to his credit, he really, really tries, but his posture bristles just enough to cue the secretary in on his client’s displeasure. “no, i’m not going to watch over you for the rest of the night to make sure you sleep,” he reassures just as swiftly, half-teasing and half-serious, “but we are going to make some plans.”
both of childe’s hands are flat on the desk as the two of them regard each other. although zhongli is the taller of the two, his position in the office chair gives childe the height advantage in the current situation. “after you get enough rest this week, i’m going to get you out of this building,” childe vows to zhongli. neither of them blink. “you’re going to walk on the streets and breathe fresh air. you’re going to spend time with people your age and eat at a restaurant. you’re going to have fun.”
it is at that moment, when zhongli’s face falters as if he’s being spoken to in python when his input is java, that childe realizes that he has no strategy, and that he’s just saying the things that he wants for zhongli: he refuses to believe that zhongli will continue to regard this room, conditioned with with frigid air and tailored to each tile on the floor, is his only future, and instead wants his 25 year-old boss to have some semblance of life in his days instead of bleeding through each, only to tear through the next.
childe had the choice to dream towards the life he currently lives. on the other hand, zhongli never did. inheriting a multi-million dollar company, especially being the son of the ceo, outwardly sounds like the opportunity only the archons could bestow. childe would have thought the same too.
until he realized that predestination sucks, and that zhongli is too good to wither his youth away behind a desk.
childe has exactly thirteen hours to come up with a plan. from the thoughts floating in his head, it can turn out in one of two ways:
one: zhongli is integrated back into society and lives a happier, more animated life than what he currently has.
two: childe loses his job.
#genshin impact#zhongli x reader#zhongli scenarios#zhongli headcanons#modern au#sugar daddy au#slow burn#eventual smut#how to tag :')
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the sheridan tapes 📼 part one. here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes. tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.
❝ jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you? ❞
❝ makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me? ❞
❝ darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain. ❞
❝ i don't think he was a werewolf. ❞
❝ i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’. ❞
❝ i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena. ❞
❝ my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment. ❞
❝ [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time. ❞
❝ so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then? ❞
❝ well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts. ❞
❝ there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year. ❞
❝ so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once. ❞
❝ it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it. ❞
❝ i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while. ❞
❝ it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee. ❞
❝ i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens? when the earth is gone? ❞
❝ glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then. ❞
❝ knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening. ❞
❝ that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept. ❞
❝ it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again. ❞
❝ he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up. ❞
❝ i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today. ❞
❝ nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer. ❞
❝ guess there really is no such thing as bad press. ❞
❝ i have no idea what a writer’s ‘ process ’ usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this. ❞
❝ see what i have to deal with? god… siblings, am i right? ❞
❝ what can i say? i have a soft spot for gothic architecture. ❞
❝ computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes. ❞
❝ they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions. ❞
❝ that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth. ❞
❝ you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it. ❞
❝ one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void. ❞
❝ the simplest explanation is almost always the right one. ❞
❝ i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have. ❞
❝ no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else. ❞
❝ i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day. ❞
❝ but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine. ❞
❝ given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it. ❞
❝ i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey. ❞
❝ calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself. ❞
❝ just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come. ❞
❝ one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal. ❞
❝ sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then? ❞
❝ something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court. ❞
❝ one of the neighbours must have called 911. ❞
❝ my infamous accident. it almost killed me. ❞
❝ i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me! ❞
❝ could you shut the door on your way out, please? ❞
❝ uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. ❞
❝ the fire that i said went out? yeah, it just started burning again. ❞
❝ so i asked him to lie. ❞
❝ it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs… ❞
❝ apparently, the press had a lot of questions too. ❞
❝ i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth. ❞
❝ oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or, ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ? ❞
❝ i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again. ❞
❝ i… think i’m going to turn around now. ❞
❝ well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change. ❞
❝ will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair? ❞
❝ no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness. ❞
❝ i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson. ❞
❝ why do you always think there’s something wrong? ❞
❝ ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble. ❞
❝ so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it. ❞
❝ i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape. ❞
❝ maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors. ❞
❝ no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in. ❞
❝ well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now. ❞
❝ i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it. ❞
❝ i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus. ❞
❝ i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going. ❞
❝ before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call ‘ unexplainable ’, ‘ supernatural ’, or ‘ paranormal ’. ❞
❝ i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired. ❞
❝ okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly. ❞
❝ [name] lied his ass off to save yours. ❞
❝ a crash like that does funny things to your head. ❞
❝ i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing. ❞
❝ any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke. ❞
❝ i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine. ❞
❝ strange how something so dead can be so beautiful. ❞
❝ it hated me: hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am. ❞
❝ lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories. ❞
❝ oh good, you’re still here! ❞
❝ reviewers absolutely grilled it: said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means. ❞
❝ i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches ❞
❝ i told her, tonight. ❞
❝ for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything. ❞
❝ i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one. ❞
❝ i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night. ❞
❝ i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing. ❞
❝ i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that. ❞
❝ unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either. ❞
❝ i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find. ❞
❝ it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least. ❞
❝ your place is waiting for you. ❞
❝ yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know? one day at a time. ❞
❝ oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh? think you can freak me out? ❞
❝ trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off… ❞
❝ and tell my sister i'm sorry. ❞
❝ oh god, it's cold. ❞
❝ the night sky really is beautiful out here. ❞
❝ tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar. ❞
❝ i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now. ❞
❝ it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all. ❞
❝ can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do. ❞
❝ i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case. ❞
❝ god, these things smell of weed. ❞
❝ yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know? ❞
❝ [name] is dead. that's all there is to it. ❞
❝ no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day. ❞
❝ a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars. ❞
❝ my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law. ❞
❝ personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them. ❞
❝ damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway. ❞
❝ well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image. ❞
❝ i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went. ❞
❝ i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic. ❞
#sentence starters#sentence meme#rp sentence starters#rp sentence meme#starters#rp starters#* sentences.#* meme.#sheridan
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Magic, Mayhem, and All Things In Between
Chapter 3: Background of the Study
[A/N: finally some y/n and loki development. soft loki moments. i am once again back with the self-indulgent fic and i hope you enjoy :’)]
other chapters can be found here
Weeks had passed since you had accepted Mr. Stark’s small favor. Weeks had passed since you began spending the majority of your time with the Asgardian brothers and dear Uncle Bruce. Though the days were filled with chatter, the late nights in the lab were quite the opposite. With only the low hum of machines to keep you company, you realized how lonely it can be. It was unlike the times you spent in the hospital, where you’d be surrounded by fellow doctors, nurses, and patients even at the dead of night. Despite how these late night duties meshed with early mornings, dulling your own sense of time, you didn’t mind it because of the company that you had. Research work, on the other hand, was a different story. Despite your years of experience, the burnout and loneliness that accompanied research work slowly made its way to the deepest parts of your brain.
“Hey,” a voice said as a hand waved in front of you, snapping you out of the trance you were in. It was Loki. “Are you okay, pet? You look rather dead.” The God held up a cup of freshly brewed coffee and passed it on to you.
“I’m fine,” came your quick reply as you received the cup from him, your hands nudging his slightly, “thank you for the coffee by the way.” You gave Loki a weak smile before beginning to sip from the warm cup of comfort that was given to you.
The lack of reaction was unusual. How many times has Loki seen you flustered with just the tiniest forms of physical touch? Probably every single time. Confused, he grabbed a chair and set it down beside you. “Are all you Midgardians always so dishonest about what you feel?” There was that usual bite in his manner of speaking. Though, no matter how hard he tried to hide it in his cold demeanor, he could feel the concern dripping from the words he uttered; the loneliness he saw in your eyes hit too close to home. Did he get too close? Maybe showing that he cared was a mistake.
Keeping your eyes on the warm mug, you hummed in reply, refusing to answer a clear yes. Your eyes glanced up at the God beside you, longing to understand why he’d even bother. Clearly, you were oblivious to any form of care or concern Loki has shown. It wasn’t as if you had your guard up, rather you were quite unfamiliar with the intimacies of talking about your own feelings. Although the question he asked was clearly rhetorical, you still wondered: Do Asgardians not repress their own feelings to prevent them from getting distracted from things that truly matter?
Green orbs stared at yours, noticing the ever darkening bags under your eyes. “I was just concerned,” Loki began, voice softening. The God looked away and focused on the variety of glassware set up on the table adjacent to them, “it has been a while since you’ve left the laboratory. You didn’t even sneak out to the medical wing for a little breather.”
You raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. How could he have noticed all that? How could he have cared at all? After all, you were just a lowly Midgardian, as he put it, and he was a God, a deity, someone with power and importance. “How did you-”
“It pains me that you put me on the same level as them, little doctor,” the God interjected as he faced you once more, “out of all the weeks we’ve spent in this laboratory, you really believed I wouldn’t have noticed.” He noticed the closeness of your proximity; his form inches away from yours, yet your mind was elsewhere.
“In my defense, everyone else I’ve met in this tower described you as a narcissistic asshole and a war criminal,” you shrugged, “so, naturally, I didn't think you would care at all about my well-being.” You took a sip from your cup, and indulged in the buzz the caffeine began to give you. “But I don’t think you’re as bad as they make you out to be. They just didn’t think of the whole story. Just took out a portion of it. It was unfair - what they did to you. It felt as if you always had the short end of the stick.”
Silence.
Now, it was your turn to shock your Asgardian companion. Being on the other end of empathy was foreign to Loki as everyone treated him quite harshly. He grew up in the shadow of Thor, the more loveable sibling, and, as much as he wanted to show off his capabilities, that he was just as worthy as Thor, Loki was left in the darkness, to wallow in promises unkept, to wallow in dreams broken, to wallow in his own great tragedy.
Eyes feeling heavy, You turned your head towards Loki, waiting for a response; though you were a naturally perceptive person, the look on his face was filled with emotions you couldn’t make out. Was he mad? Did you say too much? That analysis was unwarranted, of course he’d be mad. Embarrassed, you looked down on your cup of coffee once more, “I apologize if I said anything out of line. There are just too many things in my mind right now. I don’t think I was able to filter my thoughts very well.”
“Pray tell, dear doctor. What are you thinking of?” Loki replied, deciding to change the course of their conversation. With brows slightly raised and his gaze set at your exhausted form, you felt the God studying you, attempting to break down the essence of what makes the little physician tick.
Deciding to be a smartass, you replied, “like I said, many things.” You set down your cup of coffee on the table and crossed your arms. “Why do you ask, Loki? These past few weeks you’ve been awfully helpful to the point that Uncle says it’s weird and unlikely for you to do that just for a human. I appreciate it though, but I just don’t see why you should go out of your way to listen to me.”
“Your words wound me, doctor,” Loki chuckled, emerald eyes piercing yours, “can I not be concerned? I see years worth of loneliness and unfulfilled expectations in your eyes to the point that you can’t even deny it. I’m sure you understand what isolation and over independence can do.” Your eyes softened, glistening under the incandescent lights. You were cracking slowly, and the God knew this. He knew what you were seeking: comfort, validation, a shoulder to cry on. It was clear as day.
“Well, I could see all the walls you’ve built. You know everything about everybody, but barely anyone knows anything about you,” you attempted to reply proudly; however, your words were breathy, already beginning to shake. So much for an attempted bark. Embarrassed, you looked away defensively, not taking another moment under his perceptive gaze. It felt as if all the skeletons you’ve kept inside your closet were being showcased all of a sudden, and you hated every second of it. Your stomach churned as your defenses slowly came undone; it wouldn’t take a while now for you to start oversharing, possibly even crying your eyes out. His hand tenderly reached out to the edge of your chin and tilted it towards him. It was warm, soothing. Comforting.
“I could say the same to you, darling. You act as if you don’t build walls around you, yet you keep everyone else at arms reach. I know what loneliness and distrust does to people, and I also know that you shouldn’t hold yourself accountable for all these expectations.” There was a slight pang in Loki’s chest as he said all these truths. He too bore wounds invisible to the eye. He too carried scars from the past. These emotions were far too familiar to the raven-haired God much like old friends, and he was afraid that, by reading these off your face, he’d become attached somehow, mended together by a mutual understanding of each other’s pain. What would become of his plan then? His glorious purpose?
Looking up to him, you realized how small you were, how fragile, how easy it was for him to see through your façade. It was oddly nice to have someone who had a grasp on your inner demons, albeit without consent. You felt a connection in the making.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to trust him.
*
Days have passed since the God of Mischief and the doctor have shared a portion of the thoughts they hid away in the darkest parts of their head. It was needless to say that the two now had an unspoken connection, a commiseration of loneliness, self-doubt, and crushing expectations. Often, they’d find their gazes focused on one another, with smiles shared and laughter exchanged. Other times, a helping hand would linger longer than usual atop the other’s. A gentle squeeze or the light encircling of one’s thumb, a sign of care and concern; these gestures only happened when the two were alone, knowing that dear Uncle Bruce would be highly against it. However, it wouldn’t be long before the others noticed.
You were grateful that today was a relatively slow day in the laboratory. Majority of the specimens that were scheduled for today’s tests were finished earlier than usual along with the case presentations and progress reports Mr. Stark had asked you to make. Though it seemed like such a small feat, you took it positively; today, you could finally take a breather. You hummed happily as you began arranging the mountain of paperwork around the main table.
Upon reaching for the next pile of papers, a familiar hand laid atop of yours. You smiled and looked at your raven-haired companion, admiring the way his tousled locks framed his oh-so ethereal face.
“Do you need help, my dear doctor?” Loki asked as his thumb drew circles on your hand. Though his silvery voice tugged at your heartstrings as they always did, your cheeks were slightly tinged a light shade of red at mention of the pet name. The God never called you his doctor before.
“I can manage,” you replied as you turned your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You kept your gaze on your hands intertwined with his, the way they fit together so perfectly. “It’s surprisingly not as busy today.”
Loki leaned down, his face close behind your neck. “A bit bold today aren’t we, pet?” he jested, breath tickling the side of your ear.
Thor observed the scene from afar, shocked. He never thought that his brother would’ve established a bond with the doctor, not in the way that Loki didn’t deserve any type of social interaction, but in the way that his brother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. With arms crossed, the God of Thunder continued to watch as the two continued on with their intimacies, wondering when and how this managed to start. He watched the way your eyes lingered on his brother attentively; the way you were able to tug a smile on Loki’s face; the way his face lit up when you were around; the way your gentle touch was able to open a different side of Loki.
Though he was wary of his brother and his antics, Thor disregarded his suspicions: the two of you were much too happy occupied in your bubble of… friendship? No, it was more than that. So much more. Something was blossoming, and the God of Thunder was sure of it. He was unsure of the status of you and Loki’s relationship, but nevertheless he was still happy. However, he wasn’t so sure if your uncle would be so accepting of it, knowing the bad blood between what had happened in New York.
The doors of the laboratory swept open, startling the two friends. Thor coughed loudly to alert his brother and the doctor, but it was already too late for them to fall back to a more believably platonic position. Out came Mr. Stark and Uncle Bruce from the elevators, both shocked at the closeness of you and Loki. Tony looked more curious than shocked at the development. Your uncle, on the other hand, radiated a crushing aura, and, although Uncle Bruce’s face seemed calm and collected at the moment, you knew very well that there was anger hidden underneath it. He always warned you about Loki and the danger he could bring if you got involved, so it was no surprise to you if his anger came from both concern and disappointment.
Awkward air filled the room as the two made their way towards the laboratory’s main table. Loki stepped back away from you, whispering something along the lines of you being okay. You nodded in affirmation then looked down, averting any type of eye contact, and started to fiddle with the sheets of paper you had in hand.
Sighing, you knew it was taboo to speak of the laboratory’s peace out loud since it always brought bad luck. Now, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.
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#mmaatib#magic mayhem and all things in between#loki#loki laufeyson#loki x reader#loki x y/n#loki x you#loki/you#loki/reader#amie drabbles
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