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humanmoodring-retired · 3 years ago

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Bad Blood || Solo

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Teeth SUMMARY: Baby, now we got problems, but I think we can solve them. Or, Nadia goes to the vampire bar to see what it’s all about. CONTAINS: Medical blood talk (anemia)

In hindsight, maybe a vampire bar should have a less conspicuous name. “Teeth” literally screamed “Vampires welcome!” But, then again, maybe that was the point. Anyone else stupid enough to stumble across a club that was clearly for vampires was kind of an idiot and had it coming to them, right?

Which, of course, was why Nadia was there, hands stuffed into her jacket as she waited to be let into the club. As she walked in, she noticed that a lot of the people there didn’t feel like anything, but many of them did. This wasn’t a place that was full of the undead. It was a functioning club. There were plenty of people talking, laughing, dancing, drinking. Going into a back section, usually two at a time. That was what Nadia wanted to know about, she figured. She imagined that was where the vampires fed.

Nadia walked up to the bar, watching the bartender as they wiped down a glass. She didn’t immediately try to get their attention. She could wait, rubbing at her wrist, thinking about what this place was. She was mostly just curious. It didn’t help that there was something nice about passing out after being fed on. It wasn’t exactly peaceful, but it was sleep, in a sense, and she liked that. It meant that she wasn’t haunted by a ghost that wasn’t even there.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked, and Nadia looked up at him. He was still wiping down the glass. Surprisingly, she could feel his emotions, a sort of cool boredom. It was a dulled feeling that she’d learned to associate with people that weren’t quite human.

“Uh, yeah, I mean, maybe I could help you?” she said, her voice trailing up at the end with uncertainty.

“Sorry, babe, you’re not my type,” they said, still not looking at her.

Nadia blinked. “Oh, no, no, I was talking about the… back? Working in the back.”

That got their attention. The bartender looked up, checking her over. They looked back down and shook their head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

This was ridiculous. How fucking hard was it to be a goddamn potential blood donor? Nadia sighed. “Okay, look. I know this is like a vampire club, and that, if I had to guessed, patrons take donors or living blood bags or whatever the hell you want to call them to some of the back rooms and, you know, do their thing.”

The glass was set down, and the bartender put their elbows on the bar. Nadia could point out that she could probably be a great bartender here, that she’d been working at the town’s classiest bar for months, but that wasn’t why she was here. She continued, “I have a friend that feeds off of me, sometimes. I was just– I thought maybe I could make a thing of it.”

“A thing of it,” the bartender repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought I could volunteer to be a donor.”

The bartender looked her over again, taking in her sleepless eyes, the way she held herself, hunched with her hands in her pocket. Nadia knew when she was being scrutinized. Especially when she could feel it. “Why?”

“It helps me sleep,” Nadia deadpanned.

“Ever tried ZzzQuil? Or just melatonin?”

“It helps me pass out,” Nadia reiterated. She clarified, quietly, “I don’t like to dream. Nothing says dreamless like passing out from a bit of bloodloss.”

“That’s not very healthy,” the bartender said, but they were already getting out some paperwork. “Give me your wrist.”

She handed it over, curious. They weren’t a vampire, so she didn’t know what, exactly, they were going to do until she saw sharp claws on their hand. She tried to jerk away, but they looked her in the eyes and said, “Relax,” and Nadia could feel herself relaxing. There was a prick, and then they brought her hand up to their mouth, a sandpaper-like tongue brushing against skin. It reminded her of Rhiannon when she felt like being sweet, licking at Nadia’s hand before she’d beg for scratches.

The bartender set her wrist down, pulling out a bandaid and covering up the wound. “Make sure that doesn’t get infected or you’re going to get sick. Also, your friend must not be picky because your blood tastes like shit.”

“Fuck you,” Nadia said immediately, blinking. It wasn’t like it was something she hadn’t hurt before, but she hadn’t expected a stranger to be so blatant about it.

“You’re anemic, likely from a bad diet. Coupling that with the fact that you look like you just don’t sleep, you’re going to need to take iron supplements and maybe just improve your lifestyle. I’m picky about the people I hire, which means you’re lucky,” the bartender said. “I won’t hire anyone with bad blood.”

Nadia sighed. “So you’re saying I can come back if I take iron supplements and make my blood less shitty?”

“If you’re doing all of this just to sleep, I don’t suggest coming back at all,” the bartender said drily. “That kind of mindset’s gonna get you killed. You’re not gonna tell someone no, someone’s going to take advantage and take too much, and the next thing you know I’m going to be disposing of your body and cleaning up one of the back rooms. I like to hire people that I know will last. Makes for better business.”

Well, fuck me, Nadia thought. Now it was a point of pride, proof that she could do something like this and live through it. Proof that this was about more than just herself. She thought about everything that she could learn from an experience like this, if she was allowed to find people and talk to them, learn about them. Especially people like the bartender, who apparently fed off of blood but wasn’t a vampire. Still, she said, “I don’t like trying to go to sleep on my own. I don’t like what I dream about. Remember. Whatever. Can I get a beer? Guinness?”

The bartender grabbed a new glass and poured from the tap. “If you don’t like your dreams, go to a therapist, not a blood bar.”

“Can I do both?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. She took a sip of her beer. Then another.

“Sure,” the bartender snorted. “Just try to get a little healthier before you do.” Nadia had finished half her beer. It had calories, that was healthy, right? “When you come back, ask for Charlie. Can I…” they trailed off, considering their question, and Nadia was paying attention. “Can I have your name?”

They were smirking, and Nadia returned it. Here was a chance to prove that she wasn’t just some punk that thought vampires were neat, who just wanted to sleep. She knew things. She wanted to know more things. “No, but you can call me Nadia.”

The bartender’s smirk widened into a smile. “Well, Nadia, I hope you come back to Teeth soon.”

Nadia finished her beer and paid. She rubbed at her wrist. “Yeah, I hope so, too.”

#bad blood #p: solo #medical blood tw

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justjessame · 4 years ago

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Starting Over Chapter 14

My rideshare came and deposited me safely home. I was locking up and contemplating a long, hot soaking bath when my cell phone rang. My first thought was “Connie”, but a glance at the screen had a grin growing that was fast becoming what I was thinking of as my “Bucky” smile.

“Hello?” I answered with a little more caution, since I’d been thrown for a loop by Dr. Raynor earlier.

I heard a little bit of a scuffling noise, then something that sounded suspiciously like a smack, then, “hey,” from the voice that I’d wanted to hear all day long. Some more shuffling on his end and a muffled bit of noise, then he was back again. “Sorry about that, Brooke, are you there?”

“I’m here,” confused as fuck, but here. Putting a pin in my bath plans, I curled up in my usual spot on my sofa and got comfortable. “What’s going on?”

Bucky sighed, and I heard another muffled scuffle and then his voice, “I was -” more shuffling and I started to wonder if he was in the middle of a fight while trying to talk to me. “Damn it, Sam -” it was still quiet, but I heard it and bit my lip. Oh. Another sigh. “I missed an appointment with my therapist so -”

“I’m guessing that wasn’t taken too well by the powers that be,” it was starting to make a little bit more sense. “Guess that’s why she gave me a ring,” my face burned slightly at the memory. “Did you get your gold star?”

His chuckle came through loud and clear, I could almost see his smile. “Not yet,” I heard voices, but they weren’t clear enough to understand. He groaned. “I’m going to have to go -”

“Why do I have a feeling that doesn’t mean you’re on your way back to Brooklyn?” I felt my own sigh building, but knew I had to push it down. It was too soon to be this damn clingy. “I was REALLY hoping to see your gold star, but since you didn’t earn one yet -”

For once I HEARD him, a slight inhale and I could see those stark white teeth of his against his bottom lip. “We might have to work harder to get to that level.” I felt that rush and pull, even with all the miles separating us.

“Then I guess you’re gonna have to finish up what’s keeping you away from New York, Buck.” My mouth felt dry and I was thirsty again, but I knew I’d be staying that way for the foreseeable future. “Since I have a feeling I don’t have the type of clearance necessary to know where and what you’re planning on doing - stay safe?”

“I’ll do my best, Brooke.” I was nodding, and realized how stupid that was, since he couldn’t possibly see it. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Bucky.” Before he ended the call, I swore I heard Sam offer his own parting of “Bye Brooke, girl who can call him Buck.”

I wasn’t sure why Sam was so focused on that detail, but I was left with a silent phone and I was still thirsty.

A pitstop at the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water and then - once everything was locked up and all the lights were off downstairs, I drew a nice hot bubble bath and soaked while I thought about where Bucky might be off to and why.

When I first came back, once the shell shocked feeling of “oh shit, five years are gone and my parents are dead” had numbed a bit, and the nightmares had set in nice and tight - I started researching everything I could on ways to help with sleep issues. Insomnia, nightmares, sleepwalking - anything, on the off-chance that something would work.

I tried everything from melatonin to ZZzQuil. I tried tactics like meditation - which I am NOT built for, to the process of relaxing each limb and body part until I slipped off into a more natural sleep cycle -- SPOILER: I still had the nightmares. I did bath bombs and bubble baths, the hotter the better, but nothing actually helped.

I knew, when I felt like partaking in the LONG hot bath, that it wasn’t going to fix shit. It just was something to make me feel better and a little more luxurious. Sometimes a person needs a little me time, and before someone points out that ALL I have is me time, I normally fill my day with looking for work and trying to catch up on what happened while I was gone (not a lot, weirdly).

As I soaked, the warmth seeping into my bones and relaxing every bit of tension from me, even the stress I hadn’t realized I was carrying with me. The scent of my bubbles, a light honeysuckle I found online and was intrigued was surrounding me like a cloud, and I was considering the welcome I wanted to give Bucky when he EVENTUALLY made it back.

I was bathed and fresh. I even took the time to shave every inch of unnecessary hair from my body for good measure. Dressed in my comfy pajamas, I headed to my bedroom and grabbed my laptop. Propped up against my headboard, I opened up the search engine and started looking for the things I’d thought about while I was getting waterlogged in the tub in preparation for Bucky’s homecoming.

First things first, I looked up the type of casual dresses that the girls like Dot might have worn during a trip to Coney Island back in the day (and by that I clearly mean HIS day). Luckily Bucky was dating around during a pretty good time fashion wise. I mean, comparatively - have you seen the 1980s? Or, what the hell was going on in the 1990s? Please explain? I clicked around a couple of “retro” dress sites, finding some very cute options and bookmarking them to run past Connie, since she wasn’t quite as out of practice at this shit as I was - married or not, she’s been laid more recently.

Next came the arguably MORE important section, lingerie. Dressing from the skin out was something my mom preached. She swore that if you wanted to put your best foot forward you had to FEEL your best from the skin out, and you know what? It worked for me. It’s how I got my job at the ad agency, whether it was a good fit or not. There’s something about it that just peaks my confidence, so lingerie sites were the next on my list.

I could go retro with this one too, I could, but I wasn’t sure I needed to go that far. I mean, would Bucky want to see the somewhat heavily boned undergarments of HIS time or would he rather play with the less is more approach of Victoria’s Secret (that wasn’t all that secretive, let’s be honest here)? Bookmarking a few of the sets that I found sexiest, along with a few that I thought I could pull off without dying of embarrassment, I moved on.

Shoes, then makeup. I picked out a few hairstyles that I thought Connie would have a blast recreating for me - and maybe teaching me to do on my own (fingers crossed, pretty please). I lost myself in planning for Bucky to come home - to me.

#bucky barnes/oc #the boys #alternate universe #fluff #slow burn #eventual smut

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mrs-han · 4 years ago

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Say You Won’t Let Go

@juminweek2019

Day One: Birthday

Three years had passed. You sat by the window of your lake house and watched as the sun set over the fickle water while rubbing at your bare ring finger.

October fifth. Three years ago today, you and Jumin decided that it was best to be separated. Disconnected. Divorced.

You purposely slept in late on this particular day. If you couldn't sleep, you would somehow lull yourself to sleep with the use of sleeping pills, even a hefty capful of ZzzQuil. The later you rose, the better it was for your sanity.

You secured your robe and pressed yourself against the window ledge. Abruptly, your thoughts began to race - precisely what you were afraid of.

There were several benefits to no longer being married to Jumin Han. There weren't any more cameras following you. You didn't need to carry a black umbrella with you. Sweatpants and baggy t-shirts ruled your closet and dressers since you didn't need to worry about dressing up for any more special occasions. You didn't even need to bother waking up early in the morning to match Jumin's caliber. Now, you were your own woman.

Day by day, you were getting used to the cold, empty sensation of a wedding ring missing from your finger. You figured you would be used to it by now, but there was no use in rushing anything. Not only that, but you were also getting used to the cold, empty feeling of an unoccupied bed. You were happy... in the best sense of the word.

But one thought tortured you. There was a reason why you couldn't stand that day in particular. October fifth was Jumin's birthday.

A nice cup of tea would settle you. You grabbed a mug from your kitchen cupboard and placed your hands squarely against the counter. An unsettling feeling churned in your stomach - that's right. You hadn't eaten yet.

Opening the refrigerator, you immediately spotted a case of strawberries... and you froze.

~~~

"Do you have the strawberries, darling?"

"I sure do!" Placing the packaging on the marble countertop, you secured your apron around your waist and did the same with Jumin's. "Can we include chocolate chips this time?"

"We can do whatever you want, my love."

"You can't say that! It's your birthday! Not mine!"

~~~

With trembling hands, you pushed the case off to the side. Food could wait - fresh air sounded like a much better idea. A walk around the water, perhaps, would clear your mind.

Throwing your cardigan over yourself, you took a step outside, expecting the churning in your stomach to fade away.

It didn't.

Ballet shoes sinking into the soft soil, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. The wind embraced you lovingly, and as you wrapped your arms around yourself...

~~~

"It's chilly today, isn't it?" You rubbed at your arms and blushed as Jumin secured his suit jacket around your shoulders.

"I told you to put on your sweater," Jumin chuckled. "My birthday has the honor of being at the beginning of fall, so naturally. You need to cover your butt. Quite literally."

"Why should I have to worry about bringing a sweater or a jacket when I have you to cover my butt for me?" You teased innocently.

"Because. I may not always be by your side, as difficult as that is for me to admit," Jumin frowned. "As much as I want to protect you, it may not always work in my favor."

You grabbed his hand, blew into it, and rubbed vigorously. "Impossible. Minus business trips? You'll be by my side for the rest of our lives. In that span of forever, you can protect me, and I can protect you."

~~~

... You felt a tear roll down your cheek. The churning in your stomach intensified, but you had lost your appetite. Perhaps the insatiable feeling would go away if you...

No. That was a bad idea.

The idea of calling or texting any of the RFA members suddenly became a tempting idea. As guilty as you would feel about contacting any of them to get your mind off of your ex-husband, their shenanigans would at least have you focused on something - or someone - else.

Digging your phone from your pocket, you unlocked the messenger and felt a chill run down your spine.

Jumin was online.

Before you could respond to any of the members' greetings, you signed off and stuffed your phone back in your pocket. The last thing you needed was awkward feelings or confused sentiments.

No, the last thing you needed was to risk having to say anything to Jumin.

Closing your eyes, you tried your best to keep yourself from crying again.

~~~

"Jumin!" You charged towards him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. "You came home early!"

"I couldn't stand being away from you, especially not today." Jumin smiled broadly and held you with one arm, setting a bag on the floor. "I truly can't stand being away from you, my blessing."

"It's like we're the same person," you blushed, nuzzling your nose against his lips. "Come to the kitchen, let me show you what your cake looks like so far!"

~~~

You went from craving his gaze to escaping it every chance you could.

The churning in your stomach intensified, and only then did you understand what that sensation meant.

You missed Jumin.

But what were you supposed to do? He wouldn't want to see you, considering you avoided him every chance you could get. He would give your space because he was that much of a gentleman.

A migraine forming on the back of your head and your stomach stirring made you pace slowly through the house. There was no harm in texting him a happy birthday. Sure, it would be the first time you spoke to him after a year of deliberation. Still, an innocent 'happy birthday' wouldn't cause anyone any harm.

You dug your phone from your pocket again and hovered your thumb over past messages you had sent him. Messages you were too stubborn to delete.

'Happy Birthday, Jumin."

Your fingers flew over the keyboard and your eyes danced around those three words. Before your courage could abandon you, you pushed send and tossed your phone onto the couch, too afraid to see what he would say in return. If you heard your phone vibrate, you would do your best to ignore the message. At least you had done your good deed of the day.

Setting yourself back by the window, you closed your eyes.

~~~

"I love you so much."

"And I, you." Jumin brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. You were so lucky to have such a gracious man in your life, you knew that better than anyone. You reached over and stroked his cheek, reveling over the fact that he was yours. Yes, this stunning man was yours.

"Promise me that, no matter what happens? We'll always love each other, dear heart." His eyes met with yours - butterflies slammed against your stomach like they were desperate to reach out and embrace him as well.

"You are my first and only love, Jumin." Hooking your pinky finger around his, you beamed at him like a child on Christmas morning. "No matter what happens... you will always belong to me, and I will always belong to you."

~~~

Pressing your hand to your chest and hugging your waist, you knew all too well. You were still in love with him. But there were no do-overs, there was no going back.

You wanted to go back to sleep.

Throwing your cardigan over the couch, you were too drained to notice a notification light your phone up.

Jumin Han: "Thank you, MC."

#jumin week 2020 #juminweek2020 #mystic messenger #jumin han #mein schatz #you made me feel as though ~ i was enough ~

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firelord-frowny · 4 years ago

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i answer questions on quora for funsies and there was a question (that got deleted before i could post my answer lmao) about “why do most atheists have such a childish view of what god is?”

and then of course there were a bunch of snippy answers from people like “hur dur, bc god is dumb and fake and you are dumb also”

and so i typed up a loooong as response while loopy on zzzquil and here it is, here’s my response:

I was hoping I’d get here and see some answers that didn’t drip with the cringy condescension that atheists unfortunately have a reputation for… I was disappointed.

I can promise you that “most atheists” don’t necessarily have a childish understanding of the concept of a God or religions in general. I think it just so happens that the more, uh… ~outspoken~ atheists tend to either have a simplistic understanding, or they simply don’t feel inclined to take the time to demonstrate that they do have a deeper understanding, because it’s just not important to them (which is fair!) Or they just like being rude and making flippant comments that they know are going to rustle the feathers of people who believe in a higher power.

I definitely used to be one of those atheists who loved to wax poetic - and usually with vaguely inflammatory and argumentative language - about how I “don’t care what people think a god is” and how I “don’t believe in things that aren’t really there” and “ahem, believing in sky fairies is what’s REALLY childish!”

Then it dawned on me that I’ve only been exposed to an infinitesimally tiny fraction of all the world’s religions, and all the different ways that people express their faith in their deities. I would hope that anyone who was actually committed to rationality would at least concede that it’s a bit irresponsible and disingenuous to claim absolute knowledge about - and pass judgment on - a wealth of subjects they have never even been exposed to.

Interestingly, I think the missing ingredient in these cases is compassion. The kinds of atheists you describe don’t see much value in even caring about the tremendous role that religion can play in many people’s lives. I think they tend to home in on the bad stuff, and unceremoniously dismiss everything else.

Though I’m most simply described as an atheist, the way that I personally understand the concept of “god” is that it can be an expression of people’s highest aspirations, or maybe a personification of a culture’s highest values. Maybe some people do truly believe that the thing they have faith in is an actual being that exists in some intangible realm, and who has will, and who is capable of manipulating and interacting with the “real world.” But through conversations with many of my believing friends, I’ve come to understand that to some people, “god” is more of an ideal than an actual being. Not literal, but a metaphor.

Anyway, to get back to your actual question - I’m of the opinion that most atheists understand and embrace the fact that they may never comprehend what “god” means to the people who believe in one. But they acknowledge that it’s nowhere near as simple as just “believing in things that aren’t really there,” and certainly do not automatically find it “humorous, sad, and irrelevant.” I think most atheists understand that the cultural, social, and personal concepts of “god” and the role “god” plays in the lives of believers is way too complicated to be boiled down in just a few snappy remarks. The atheists who have a more compassionate and open-minded understanding of what “god” might mean to theists aren’t going around being mean on the internet. They’re minding their own business.

I hope you feel enormously free to happily ignore the flippant, obnoxious quips from unkind atheists who are more concerned with feeling superior than with being at all intrigued by one of the many ways humankind has found to express its values and feel connections to one another.

Because I happen to know how these particular atheists think and behave, considering that I used to be one, I am sure that any who come across my answer here may feel inclined to try to get under my skin and perhaps condescend to me about logic and reason and blah blah blah, and I’d just like to say to those individuals: I welcome you to say whatever it is you need to say in order to feel secure and grounded in your point of view. I promise there’s nothing you can tell me that I haven’t told anyone else. I’m not upset with you, and I won’t be hurt or offended by anything you decide to say. Sure, I’d like it if you agreed with me, but that’s not how the world works, and I’m okay with that, and I’m sure that most of y’all are decent folks with whom I’d agree on a lot of other things!

I’m also sure that some folks are going to think everything I’ve said is ridiculous and that I’ve typed so much and said absolutely nothing. That’s fine. And you’re probably right! If you look up “largiloquent” in the dictionary, there’s a picture of me.

I’ll also address this: It’s not lost on me that the phrasing of the question is a little instigative. “Why do most atheists have such a childish view…” I can see plainly that that’s meant to attract exactly the kind of atheist who’s prone to launching into unpleasant confrontations. It’s meant to attack the kind of atheist that the question-asker has no doubt felt victimized by. Though I find it a little disappointing, I do understand. Like I said - I used to be a jerk about my own atheism, and I’m very well acquainted with the loud minority of atheists who seek to make theists feel dumb, and it makes sense to me that someone would feel like taking a small form of revenge in this manner. So, to the question-asker, I’ll say: When you set someone up to get angry, you sabotage your own chances of getting through to someone who disagrees with you. Maybe they probably weren’t going to hear you out before, but they definitely aren’t going to hear you out now.

And to the atheists who jump at the chance to get quippy at this kind of obvious bait: If you really want to disarm someone who’s trying to upset you… be nice. I’m not kidding. When somebody clearly wants you to resort to petty insults, and then you give them those insults, you lose. Immediately. You just look mean. :/ But if someone is baiting you into an argument, and you respond with kindness and understanding, then they look like the jerk. Not you. And next time, maybe they’ll choose kindness, too, when they approach you.

I was going to conclude this by proudly stating that I’ve evolved past the point of feeling the need to try to make others feel less-than just because they have a point of view I think is, uh, ridiculous, but as I reread my words, I can see that that's not exactly true, as I’ve definitely included a few acerbic jabs here and there. I’m sorry about that. I don’t mean to sound like I’m looking down on anyone or what they do or don’t believe about belief. I suppose I just take it a bit personally when self-described atheists behave in ways I think are unnecessarily and intentionally rude, and then claim in some way that that’s Just How Atheists Are. It isn’t. I hope some of you will mull over the idea that meanness rarely ever contributes anything useful to the world. Lots of people will be willing to consider your point of view if you can present it in a manner that allows them to feel comfortable talking to you. Even if neither of you winds up changing your minds, you can still come away from the conversation with the gift of a wider perspective.

So what I’ll actually conclude with is this: I don’t care what people do or don’t believe. I care how they behave. And you can always learn way more about a person from their behavior than from what gods they say they do or don't have faith in, or how well they understand the concept of those gods.

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goldkirk · 5 years ago

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Blackbird, a Tim Drake/Batfam fic

Chapter 17: oh now I think I must be miles up

[ Read on ao3 ]

Content Warning: this chapter contains unintentional, accidental drug use, but drug use nonetheless. be careful, if that's something that can trigger you.

Mid-August flies by in snapshots around Tim, full to the brim and bittersweet with all the endings just over the horizon that he knows he can’t escape. Jason moving to college, his mom’s continued decline, school starting up, whatever Gotham is going to get hit with sooner or later, all of it nags at the corners of his mind day and night until finally Bruce has to take him off patrol just so Alfred can make sure he actually sleeps.

“There’s no shame in needing help, sometimes,” Alfred tells him gently, on the first truly bad night. Tim makes a face as he tosses back the purple Dr.-Thompkins-sanctioned Zzzquil, then hands Alfred the little cup in exchange for a large glass of ice water.

“Mom and dad would kill me,” Tim mumbles into the glass. “They don’t like anything that’s not, like, food or a plant.”

“You parents,” Alfred says, “are part of the cause of this. I do not believe they get a say now. And your mother is currently taking many medications herself, for good reason, so I daresay you may find their opinions have changed with the circumstances. Regardless, you require sleep to stay healthy, and as your current legal guardian, it is well within Master Bruce’s authority to ensure you get it however necessary, so long as it is safe.”

Tim burrows down under his weighted blanket and shifts backwards until he’s wedged tightly into the corner, as always, and calls Nova up to box him in further. He throws one arm around her middle like she’s a teddy bear and blinks up at Alfred.

“At least it’s not actually sleeping pills,” Tim sighs. “And it’s not every night. So. I guess—can we just make sure we don’t do this much? I know it’s safe, but…”

“Of course,” Alfred says, gently. He sets Tim’s empty glass onto a tray with the bottle and cup and stands with one last smile. “Sleeping on your own is always preferable. This is just our...shall we say safeguard? For the times when you truly cannot settle. We will not force it upon you unless you’ve already gone over a day with no rest. That is a promise, Master Tim.”

“Okay,” says Tim. “Night, Alfred.”

“Good night, Master Tim. Rest well.”

About and hour later, Tim is on the phone with Bruce, speaking across the private line in Bruce’s cowl.

“B,” Tim says. “Dad. I’m losing my mind. I don’t think this is what’s supposed to happen to me.”

“Robin,” Bruce says, calmly, and Tim can hear that the sound of air rushing has stopped. Batman must have stopped on a building somewhere. “What’s going on?”

“I’m so tired,” Tim nearly sobs. “I’m so tired, B, I want to sleep, I’m so sleepy, but I can’t shut up! I can’t stop talking! I got up to try pacing around and see if maybe that could help, but I’m moving like a slug and I keep missing the rubber ball by half a second when I try to bounce it off the corners, so I know I’m like, off, and I didn’t want to go bother Agent A because I know he’s busy in the cave monitoring things, and that’s important. And Spoiler is sleeping, and she’d straight up shank me if I wake her up, so I’m not gonna do that, duh. And I thought this would just go away, or if I tried doing things for a bit I’d just conk out, but I’m so tired but I’m like, literally reciting polyatomic ions right now just because I need to talk. B, what’s wrong with me? Is this bad? Did I do something wrong? I don’t know if maybe I ate something that’s mixing with the Zzzquil wrong, or maybe I’m just weird, or, or, I don’t know, maybe something from one of Ivy’s plants actually had a long-term effect and now I’m never going to be able to sleep again—oh my god, that would be so bad, people die if that happens—I don’t want to die, I just want to sleep, I’m so tired—” and Tim is actually crying now. He sits down hard on the middle of his rug, one hand still holding the phone up to his ear, and he drapes his torso heavily over the top of Nova who’s trying her best to lick his tears off. If he weren’t so thoroughly miserable at the moment, he’d at least manage a laugh at the way it feels.

Bruce sighs. Tim can almost see him pinching the nose bridge on the cowl.

“You’re not going to die, sweetheart,” Bruce says. “I promise. You’re having a paradoxical reaction to the antihistamine. It’s known to happen in children sometimes, making them hyperactive instead of drowsy. Although it’s usually younger children, which I suppose could explain why you’re feeling wired and drowsy at the same time instead of just one or the other.”

“Oh. Uh. You’re sure it’s not Ivy or something?”

“I’m sure,” Bruce reassures him. “Trust me. There are research studies online you can look up, if you want. Nightwing used to be knocked out flat in twenty minutes when he had to take Benadryl, but when I was younger, I would turn into the Energizer Bunny. Drove my parents up the walls. This will pass, and you’ll be able to fall asleep eventually.”

“What am I supposed to do until then?” Tim asks, a little miserably.

“Distract yourself,” Batman orders. “I’ll come back a little early tonight, once we wrap this mission up. I’m sending Agent A up to you now, and he’s going to make some warm vanilla milk for you. The tryptophan might help a little. Can’t hurt, anyway.”

“But A—”

“Wants to help,” Bruce says, firmly. “Let him mother hen you, Robin. He takes it as a personal affront when something medical-related doesn’t work perfectly. We’ll be back within an hour. All right? Can you hang in there till we get back?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tim says immediately. “I’ll be fine. I’m just—weird. Is this what being high is like? Because if it is, I never want to be high ever. At all.”

Bruce snorts. “It is not like being high at all. And you’re not allowed to try weed, Robin. You’re underage and this is New Jersey.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Tim protests. “I was just trying to make the point that—”

“Hate to break up this party,” Flamebird interrupts, cutting in on the private channel, which, what? “But there are guys? With guns? And they’re like. About to round the corner, B.”

“Understood,” Batman says. “Meet me on the corner of the old shoe factory. We’ll drop down on them from there.” He pauses for a second, then adds, “Don’t get shot. Blackbird, you go across from us and pin them from behind while they’re distracted.”

“Understood,” Cass echoes, slowly but with all the correct inflections.

“Oh my god,” Tim hisses. “B. Have I been on the open comms this whole time.”

“Hope you get some sleep soon, Robin,” Batgirl says, then, entirely too cheerful. “Try a hot bath and some Buzzfeed Unsolved. It’ll at least pass the time. Gotta go, someone’s hauling a freshie out the back entrance of a club, bye.”

“Oh my god,” Tim moans. “Why is this my life.”

“Batman out,” says Bruce, and Tim barely remembers to hit the end call button before he hurls his phone onto the bed and groans for about a million years.

A week later, they drop in on a large drug stockpile in one of the warehouses by the docks. They thought it was Scarecrow, for a moment, but it turned out to actually be just heaps of black-market amphetamines from a nearby high schooler’s study drug racket and a whole awful lot of low-level weed in little brown paper sacks. And, well.

It’s Robin and Flamebird, since Batman is currently home with a mild cold. So. Things get a very little, just a tiny bit, oh-so-slightly on fire. And their comms are maybe silenced, for a bit, so Bruce can’t yell at them while they make things go boom.

No one’s hurt, of course, they made sure the warehouse was cleared first. Tim even did one last perimeter check to make sure, once the fire started taking hold. Jason reaches over to high-five him without turning as they stand together on a nearby shipping container to watch the fire department put out the blaze.

“Whoops,” Tim says, cheerfully. “Our bad.”

“Drug dealers can have a little fire,” Jason says, “as a treat.”

Tim laughs. He leans over onto Jason’s arm, for a moment, blinking at the way stray cinders are floating up into the foggy harbor air here and there, tracking their swirling drift through his domino.

“‘S so pretty,” he says. “Hey. Flamebird. We should blow things up more often.”

Jason looks down at him, amused, and pats his frizzy man-bun a couple times, wondering when Tim became a cat.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Tim says. “This is great. I didn’t know it was so fun. I haven’t felt so...not-stressed...in like…” he frowns, crinkling the top of the domino mask. “I dunno. A long time. Wow. Am I just literally always, like, low-key stressed out and didn’t realize? Huh.”

Jason suddenly feels dread rising. Surely Tim wasn’t around the building long enough for—yeah, the fire probably hadn’t burned enough of the stacks yet for it to—

“Whatever,” Tim says, cheerful again. He wraps both arms around Jason and leans .

Tim never initiates hugs. He’s still terrible at actually asking for physical affection, even after all the months he’s been living with them now.

Oh god, Jason thinks. Oh no.

“Hey, can we go to Uncle Bob’s?” Tim asks. “I’m hungry. I want pancakes. Oh! Dude, Agent A packed cookies, look.” And Tim stuffs two in his mouth before holding the rest of the small aluminum foil bundle out to Jason.

“Oh god,” Jason says. “Holy shit, baby bird. How did you even—”

“What?” Tim says, confused. His head tilts to the right, just a little bit, while he looks up at Jason, and it’s so cute, and Jason is so dead. So dead. Farewell, cruel world. College was a nice dream. Jason’s had a good run, all things considered. He won’t even be super mad about it when B systematically wrings his neck when they get back to the cave.

“Uh, yeah,” he says absently, patting Tim’s head a couple times while he flicks his comm back on. “We’ll—we’ll call in an order to go and take it back to the cave, okay? Hey, B?” he adds, when he hears the line click on, and the telltale intake of breath that means he’s about to get an earful for the radio silence.

“Yes,” Batman grinds out.

“We, uh. We have a little situation.”

“A situation.”

“Yes.”

“What kind of situation.” “A, uh,” Jason says, as Tim hums happily around another mouthful of decadent chocolate cookie. “A little birdie situation. A...soaring little birdie situation.”

There is silence on the line for a solid five seconds.

“Is he high,” Bruce says, so calmly.

Jason is fucked.

“Um,” says Jason. “Maybe just a little.”

“Get back to the cave,” Bruce sighs. “Blackbird can finish the patrol route tonight. We’ll check to make sure the weed wasn’t laced with anything. And you’re going to give a full report.”

“Right,” Jason says, faintly, near giddy with relief.

“And you’re both grounded.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t speed on Flannery. The police are hidden off one of the alleys there.”

“Got it,” Jason says, tugging Tim down to drop over the edge of the shipping container towards where they parked the Batmobile. “Can we stop for pancakes first? If I call it in? Tim’s hungry.”

Bruce hns for a moment. “Fine. No getting out of the car. And bring me some of the strawberry crepes, while you’re at it. We’re in for an interesting night.”

“Yes, B,” Jason says obediently. “Thank you, B, see you soon, bye.”

“Jason,” Tim says, once they’re safely in the Batmobile and Jason is pulling out of the alleyway like a bat out of—well. That joke was old before Jason even became Robin. And yet somehow, the phrase just doesn't seem to die.

“Yeah, baby bird?” Jason replies quickly, two fingers hovering on Tim’s throat trying to make sure his pulse is fine, because now he’s worried, too, that maybe it wasn’t just weed, or the weed was laced with something dangerous, because this is Gotham, and those are drug dealers, and—

“I’m sad.”

Jason glances over. Tim is staring out the front window, slumped in his seat, looking like he’s fifty years old in the body of a twelve-year-old.

“You are?” he asks. Tim seemed pretty happy a few minutes ago. They just ran out of cookies, but Jason already passed him some Doritos from the emergency stash, and he seems to be pretty content with those.

“Yeah,” Tim says softly. “I feel really warm, and like, okay. Calm. This is nice. But I’m really sad.”

“Why are you sad, buddy?”

“Dunno,” says Tim. He crunches down loudly on one of the chips. “Just soft and quiet and sad.” Then he laughs. “My mom and dad told me once that they were a week later than they said they’d be because they got chased by an cheetah on their way to the airport and had to like, dive into the ocean for a few days, when it chased them all the way over to the edge of the land, and that was why they hadn’t been able to call and tell me they were coming home for real until they got to the airport with a public phone. And I thought that made some sense. I was so little.”

Jason feels his stomach clench. It sounds like Tim is going to be a chatty little bird, tonight.

“That was silly,” Tim says, with a firm nod. “I learned. They stopped things like that soon. But why didn’t they just tell me the truth?”

Jason doesn’t have an answer. This is so far above his pay grade. He hits submit on the online order form for their food and double-checks the car’s autopilot, trying desperately to figure out what Tim needs to hear.

“Whatever,” Tim says, suddenly. He throws back a few more chips, and holds the bag out for Jason to share. Tim starts humming the Pirates of the Carribean theme song under his breath and wraps the cape around him like a blanket, gaze locked unwavering onto one of the blinking lights on the Batmobile’s dash. Jason pulls out a few Doritos and eyes Tim carefully.

“You still sad, bud?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Tim says, glancing over at him with a small smile. “I’m always sad, I think. But it’s okay! I’ve got you. And pancakes soon.” He pauses, then brightens like a fluorescent bulb all of a sudden. “And Batman! Dude, Batman is our dad. How did we get that lucky? Batman is the best. God. I fucking love all of you so much.” He blinks slowly, back to staring with single-minded focus, this time at the constantly-moving bars of the silent police scanner.

“Timmy?”

“I love you so much,” Tim says. Sniffs.

“Oh, bud, hey...” Jason hits the comm button on the door and faintly hears the line click open as it connects.

“I love you all so much,” Tim says, sinking down in his little cocoon, and suddenly bursts into tears. “You’re the best, and I love you, and I don’t deserve any of you, and I love you so much, and I don’t want you to go.”

“Oh, buddy,” Jason says, miserably, and reaches out to tug Tim into a hug as best he can over the stick shift and console. “Hey, I’m just going to college. I’m not even leaving the state. I can come visit on weekends, and stuff, sometimes. I’m coming home for holidays and summers, I’m not going to just stay away. And we’ll talk on video calls all the time, right?”

“You’re leaving,” Tim says, through tears. “Why does everyone end up leaving me?”

“Not everyone—”

“My parents, all the nannies, all the staff, Ives, Mrs. Mac was around the longest, and now even she’s gone too,” Tim cries, as if he didn’t even hear Jason. “They all—and you—what if you don’t come back? You’re moving somewhere else, you’re going to get friends, and—and I’m a mess, and like, Bruce is gonna get tired of me, I know, okay, this always—I know people won’t always stay, and it’s good that you’re going to college, this is so stupid, I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Shhhh,” Jason tries, helplessly. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m sorry you’re so upset, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Robin,” Batman says, suddenly, in character. Tim snaps up, wrenching out of Jason’s hug.

“Batman,” he responds, scrubbing his eyes and nose roughly with the sleeve of his uniform.

“It’s going to be all right, Robin,” Batman says, more gently this time. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Tim says.

“Robin.”

Jason silently hands the cashier a hundred dollar bill through the window, and mouths keep it as he accepts the bag holding their order and immediately pulls out of the drive-thru.

“Good,” Tim insists. “I’m good, B, don’t worry about me.”

It’s freaky. If Jason hadn’t been there himself, he’d have no clue aside from the slightly-damp domino fabric that Tim had even been slightly upset seconds earlier. It’s like he’s turned into a totally different kid. Bruce said he’d seen it happen before, when Tim was around his parents on some of the visits, or when Tim didn’t feel safe. But Jason hadn’t seen it himself. At least not this drastic.

He wonders suddenly how much of the time Tim might be hiding things from them more subtly, and they just...don’t notice.

“Really,” Bruce says. “Because it sounded like you were really upset, for a minute. I heard you’re feeling a little off, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine,” Tim says, stubbornly, but Jason doesn’t miss the way his brow furrows and how he wraps up in the cape again.

“It’s okay to not be fine,” Bruce says, slowly, gently. “You’re allowed to be upset, Robin, and have a bad night, or day. You can be sad any time you need to, however often you need. You don’t have to behave a certain way around me. You can be honest.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“That’s weak,” Tim mutters.

“I’m sick right now,” Bruce counters. “I’m in bed with chicken broth and a laptop and a comm and Parks and Rec reruns. I’m frustrated, because I don’t like being sick. And I’m scared, because my children are out in danger without me there to protect them just in case. And I’m sad, because one of my children is sad right now. Does any of that make me weak, Robin?”

“You’re Batman.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m Batman. Batman is still just a person. Does any of that make me weak?” Bruce repeats.

“No,” Tim says.

“So if it doesn’t make Batman weak,” Bruce says, “does it make you weak, to feel the same feelings?”

Tim doesn’t answer.

Faster, Jason begs the Batmobile. Come on.

“Your parents didn’t like it when you were angry, or sad, right?” Bruce goes on. “But that doesn’t mean they were right. Come on, sweetheart. We’ve talked about this, and I know you’ve talked about it in therapy too. Things are strange, tonight. It’s okay to be struggling. But we can’t help make you feel any better unless you’re honest with us. Do you want to feel better?”

Tim glances over at Jason.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “But I don’t want to cry.”

“Okay,” Bruce says. “That’s fine. You don’t have to cry. But it’s all right if you do. Let’s try one more time. How are you feeling, Robin?”

“I don’t feel alert,” Tim says. “It’s—it’s quiet, for once. I like it but it’s kind of scary. I don’t—I dunno what to do about it.”

“Quiet?” Bruce asks, suddenly popping up in a domino mask on the dashboard screen.

“Yeah,” Tim says. His hand flutters around his head, and he tries to explain. “Like...in my head, everything is like...a big warm living room? Instead of normal. Like there were all kinds of buzzing wires before, all the time, and I didn’t notice till they shut off.”

“I see,” says Bruce. “Were they good wires?”

“Dunno,” says Tim. “It’s just...quieter. I feel like there’s more me in here. It’s like—like—” he frowns at Bruce, searching for the right words. Jason plops the take-out bag in TIm’s lap as he takes back manual controls to drive them through the waterfall and onto the platform in the cave.

“Like when I’d get to go back in my room and lock the door, and then go to the bathroom and lock that door, too,” Tim says, finally, “and no one else can come in, and it’s just me, and I don’t have to constantly kind of. Watch? And be ready? I can kind of just...be me and not plan or have to listen for…”

“Danger?” Bruce suggests.

“Hm,” says Tim. “Yeah, I guess that’s it. It’s just quiet, right now,” he repeats. “It’s weird. This isn’t normal.”

“I think it actually is more normal than you’re used to, and that’s why you’re unsettled by it,” Bruce says. “You’ve been some level of hypervigilant for years. Having a substance relax you suddenly would absolutely feel different.”

“A substance?” Tim asks.

Jason pops his door open and practically vaults the hood of the Batmobile to yank Tim’s open and scoop out both him and the bag of food. He takes off for the medical bay, where Alfred and Bruce are waiting.

“Marijuana, sweetheart,” Bruce says, as he reaches out to take Tim from Jason’s arms, and pulls him down onto the gurney Bruce has leaned back on with a box of Kleenex by his side. “This is what being high is like, Tim.”

“Oh,” says Tim. He looks thoughtful. “It’s not bad,” he says slowly. “I think I’m kind of off, but the quiet is kind of nice. Now that I’m getting more used to it.”

“Well, don’t get too used to it,” Bruce says. “This is illegal in at least three different ways. We’re not having a repeat performance.”

“I dunno, B,” Jason says, thoughtfully. “I know he’s a little too high right now, and emotional—”

“I’m not emotional,” Tim protests, perfectly calm as Alfred carefully draws a vial of blood while Tim lies wrapped around Bruce like a koala. Bruce is currently struggling to get

“But,” Jason continues, “if he’s noticing a difference in his stress levels from this, and it’s clearly making him talk about things more easily—you weren’t even on the line yet when we were in the car, for the first bit—maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try medical mj, with Dinah? In a controlled setting? For that matter, it might help you too.”

“No,” Bruce says. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but we need more research, and safety checks, and Tim isn’t eighteen yet. I’m no saint, Jason, I’ve done some weed in my day. It gives me the same kind of relief it seems to give Tim right now. But there’s a risk of getting hooked on that, and until Tim is an adult, making his own legal decisions, I’m not having that while he’s under my care.”

“Marijuana isn’t addictive,” Jason protests.

“Not like heroin,” Bruce says. “Of course not. But you know how a lot of people drink alcohol to cope with painful feelings. It makes them feel better for a while, right? Takes away pain, or anxiety? Marijuana isn’t physically addictive like some drugs are. But if Tim got hooked on the feeling of being able to fully relax, like that, and took it more and more often until he didn’t feel like he could get through a day without the relief? That’s addiction. We’re not going to risk it.”

“That makes sense,” Jason sighs. “It’s just...it doesn’t seem fair. That he’s sad all the time, and always so stressed, to the point where he didn’t even realize it until it wasn’t there anymore.” He frowns. “It’s not fair that any of us have to deal with all this crap. We shouldn’t have been hurt by so many people. But Tim’s—

“I know,” Bruce says, sounding exhausted. “I know, buddy. Come here. There’s room for one more up here.”

Jason fiddles with the rolled top of the food bag, where he’s set it on the counter, and gives Bruce a look. “Are you sure?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be like, mad at me right now?”

“I am mad,” Bruce says. “But not at you. Or you, Tim,” he adds, gently working at the edges of Tim’s domino mask with a rag dipped in their usual solution. “Accidents happen. I’m very worried, but both of you are safe now, and we’ll handle anything that comes up. The only people I’m angry at are the people who have hurt my children over the years, and the drug dealers who take advantage of lots of other people’s children being in pain in order to get them hooked on substances and make money.”

Jason climbs up onto the gurney and squeezes between Bruce and the railing. Bruce blows his nose once before wrapping an arm around Jason and tugging him in.

“So,” Bruce says, while Tim starts to faintly snore against his ribs. “Why don’t you tell me what happened tonight, play by play, while we wait for this high little birdie to wake up, and then we’ll talk about how to help make your move a little less stressful for everyone while we all dig into the deliciously greasy breakfast food.”

“Okay, dad,” Jason sighs, letting the tension drain from his muscles as he tugs off his own domino. “Sounds good. But is he gonna—is Tim gonna be okay?”

“He will,” Bruce says, confidently as he can through a stuffy nose. “Don’t worry too much. The chances of the weed being laced with enough of anything to affect him are very low. We’re just taking precautions. He’ll be right as rain in the morning, and in the meantime, we might get some funny quotes for the post-it note wall.”

Jason snorts. “Remind me to never get high around you, if you’re the type that collects blackmail material.”

“Oh, I’m not the one to worry about,” Bruce says with a grin. “That’s Dick. He’s sneaky. And I know Tim here is Mr. Paparazzi, with all the files, but Dick has a stockpile of blackmail videos and photos somewhere on a hard drive that even I haven’t found in all these years. He pulls it out every now and then when I don’t want to go on a certain Justice League mission, and threatens to show the team if I don’t help out.”

“No,” Jason says, absolutely delighted, and immediately making a mental note to contact Dick and demand some of the better Bruce files. Maybe swap them for a few Jason himself has been hoarding for a rainy day. “Dickiebird? Mr. Friendly Sunshine?”

“He’s good with people,” Bruce says. “Making friends, being kind, helping them. Manipulating them when necessary. He’s always been able to. Not exactly on purpose, when he was younger, but that’s a skill like any other, and we honed it in him as he grew up. It’s why he’s so good at undercover work, when necessary. I know you haven’t seen him on one of those missions yet.”

“And galas,” Jason says, with a little awe. “I always wondered how he ended up so smooth with the fake talk while he manages to sound just as warm and happy as he always does with us.”

“Acting,” Bruce says, in his best imitation of Sir Patrick Stewart’s voice.

“Indeed,” says Alfred, finally stepping back over. “A skill which you yourself have developed well enough in these past two decades to fit in with any respectable acting company. But I would ask, sir, that you refrain from any more attempts at imitating the masters.” He shoots Bruce a stern look. “A British accent you may do, but Sir Patrick’s vocal range you have not.”

Bruce laughs hard enough to end up in a short coughing fit, which somehow still doesn’t wake Tim at his side.

“Duly noted, Alf,” Bruce says, once he finishes coughing. “I won’t besmirch the king again.”

“Gratitude oozes from my being,” Alfred says dryly. “Try again, perhaps, in thirty years, and we shall see how you do then, when your vocal register has shifted. That is, if you do not destroy it altogether with the way you gargle rocks in your throat every night while shouting after all the criminals in this city.”

“I’m doing fine so far,” Bruce says.

“The slowly-growing nodules on your vocal chords suggest otherwise.” Alfred hands him a cup of honey lemon tea, and Bruce sips dutifully. “But for tonight, at least, they get a blessed break. Drink all of that, Master Bruce, and then if you want more before breakfast, let me know. I’m off to run the tests on Master Tim’s blood samples. I shall let you know if there is anything of concern.”

“Besides outrageous levels of THC,” Jason snorts.

“Besides that,” Alfred agrees, looking over his boys one last time before turning and heading towards the lab. “Rest well, and text or shout if I am needed. And make sure you all drink water.”

“Yes, Alfred,” Bruce and Jason chorus. Then they glance down at Tim, who looks as peaceful as they’ve ever seen him, despite the emotional glimpse into his deeper feelings not long ago in the Batmobile.

“Well,” says Bruce. “If nothing else, tonight is going to be an interesting learning experience about how Tim reacts when high. I remember when this sort of thing happened with you, a few years back.”

“Oh, god,” Jason moans. “Dick was the best. But also the worst. I couldn’t look at nachos again for weeks .”

Bruce smiles. “You were quite a handful. I had to get you down from the rafters in the west wing add-on at least six times. You kept saying you liked being tall.”

“I was still short, then!” Jason protests. “You can’t hold anything against me that I said or did while I was high. And in my defense, that was the strain from that grad school lab that the meta was tampering with. We don’t even know if that was regular weed.”

“We tested it,” Bruce says. “Everything was normal. Modified, but normal. Just because they occasionally watered the plants with Mountain Dew, that doesn’t mean that that’s what made you stand on a wooden beam going “I’m a Robin, motherf—”

“OKAY!” Jason shouts, hitting Bruce with a spare pillow while they both laugh. “Okay! Point taken! Maybe we should all get you high and see what stupid stuff you do, just so things are fair.”

“Tell you what,” Bruce says. “If you get Superman to try weed, I’ll do it too.”

“Are you—are you serious?”

“As the grave. If you can convince Clark to do it, then I’ll get high at the same time. Assuming that weed works on him, of course. We’ll have to look into that. I don’t know if that’s been tested in the simulations yet.”

“Oh man,” Jason says. “If I can get Dick to help—”

“I shouldn’t have told you how good he is at manipulation,” Bruce sighs.

“Get ready, old man,” Jason says with a grin, as he jabs Bruce in the chest with one finger. “You’re going to have to pay up on this one. There’s no way we’re passing this up.”

“Only in a state where it’s recreationally legal,” Bruce warns. “You get Clark to agree, and you get us there. Then I’ll do it.”

“Deal.”

“Come on,” Bruce sighs, tugging Jason a little closer, and making sure not to bump Tim. “Tell me about tonight, all the way up to when you patched me in on the ride home. And then we’ll have an early breakfast.”

“First breakfast,” Jason says, closing his eyes and letting his head rest on Bruce’s broad shoulder. “Then Alfred can make us second breakfast. And then as recompense for tonight, we’ll get Tim to make us elevensies.”

“Oh, are we Hobbits now?”

“B,” Jason grins. “We’re always Hobbits. We’re like, the Hobbitiest family in the entire hero community.”

“We are in a cave, right now,” Bruce agrees. “And quite cozy. And I’m drinking tea.” He takes a sip, then turns his head to stare Jason down. “Now. No more distractions. Spill, Jaybird. It’s all right.”

Jason sighs. “Okay,” he begins. “When we first hit the city, we swung by Gordon’s office, to drop off Steph’s thank you cake and pick up the file he wanted to give you…”

They do, in fact, have a very interesting night once Tim wakes up. Mostly, they eat a lot of breakfast food and Jason’s stash of chips that Alfred pretends he doesn’t know is tucked in the back of the east wing kitchen pantry. And play Cards Against Humanity, which is kind of a mistake and kind of the best thing that’s ever happened in Jason’s life, and which gives Steph, Cass, and Jason enough blackmail footage of both Tim and Bruce to get them at least two entire get-out-of-jail-free situations when they decide to cash in.

In the end, it could have been a lot worse. And Tim sleeps for about twelve hours, when it’s all said and done, so as Alfred says, all’s well that ends well. Bruce is back on patrol the next night, and keeps Tim close the whole time, anyway.

Halfway through their stakeout of an apartment in Midtown, Batman and Robin get a call, and pack it in for the night while telling the others to finish their patrol routes and head home for some sleep.

Tim’s mom goes on hospice the next morning, and Bruce announces a sabbatical from Wayne Enterprises so he can spend more time with the family, and get both Steph and Tim to their frequent parental visits and help an increasingly-stressed Jason prepare for his official move to Princeton in just a little over a week.

Cass’s father shows up on patrol the night after that. And that’s when everything starts to go terribly, horribly wrong.

#tim drake #batfam #dc #shutterbug series

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toreii · 5 years ago

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21 Questions Tag

Tagged by: @nad-zeta

I thought I’d already done this one, but I guess I didn’t. Thank you for tagging me. :)

1. Name: Tracy

2. Nickname: Toreishi, Tori, Toreii, and I used to be called Yukari when I was younger. When I was a child, my classmates would just rhyme my name with crazy.

3. Gender: Female

4. Star Sign: Virgo

5. Current time: 1:37am

6. Favorite Artist(s): My flawless queen, Namie Amuro. I’m currently following the duo of Lotus Juice and Jack Westwood (Shunsuke Takeuchi) as AMADEUS. Tbh, my music taste is all over the place. It’s a mix of so many genres in a handful of languages, and sung by various artists. So, it’s hard to say if I have another favorite artist other than Namie Amuro.

7: Favorite Song: This would take so long to answer.😅 I’ll just name the one song that got me into Namie: 「SO CRAZY」.

8. Song stuck in your head: It was Stardust In Your Eyes by Namie Amuro (I kid y’all not. I love this woman.) But, I’m currently listening to some Inu-Yasha osts, so it has taken care of this.

9: Last movie you saw?: In theaters, Dragon Ball Super: Broly. On TV, Pokemon: MewTwo Strikes Back-Evolution. On my tablet, Nobunaga no Hitsugi.

10. Last thing I googled: This book on Mitsuhide Akechi. I wanted to see if it was good or not.

11. Other blogs?: Just this and my main blog.

12. Main: @toreishi

13. Do you get asks?: I very rarely get them.

14 Reason for your URL: It started out as a writing blog for me, so I needed it to be affiliated with my main blog. I was going to use tori, but it was taken along with torii. I didn’t exactly want to use tore either. So I tried torei, but that was also taken. I added a second i and it was available, so it was decided then. It took time to embrace toreii, but I identify with it now.

15. Average amount of sleep: I rely on Zzzquil to go to sleep. But, because I’m fighting allergies and congestion right now, I’ve been sleeping off Nyquil each night.

16. Lucky Number: I don’t have any. I don’t believe in this.

17. Currently wearing: PJ shirt that says Bride Squad (I found it on clearance), and pj shorts.

18. Dream Job: It was to be a writer, but my family never gave me support. So, that crashed and burned. At this point, I just don’t know what to do with my life.ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

19. Dream Trips: If things weren’t bad in Mexico, there are some places I’d like to see other than my family. I also promised I’d bring Mitsuhide flowers, so I definitely need to go to Kyoto. I always said my trip to Japan would be fueled by history. I would definitely like to redo my Parisian trip. Go back to Barcelona, too.

20. Favorite food(s): Noodles. I also like making pastas. I also make red enchiladas from scratch. I also learned to make charro beans from my mom. I’m a hoe for chicharron, too. Esquites (Mexican corn). Queso fresco. Popeyes chicken. And the best bbq ribs I’ve tasted so far in my life from my favorite bbq restaurant.

21. Play any instruments?: No. My parents never let me do anything as a kid. I mean, I eventually bought an electric guitar when I was a teenager, but it was pointless if I didn’t have any one to teach me. I tried teaching myself, but I was always scolded for making noise. So, I sold my baby girl one day to a musician who promised me he’d take care of her.😭 I watched him play it for a few minutes before I let him have it.

Well, I’m supposed to tag others, but it is way past my bed time. If any one wants to do this, you are more than welcomed to.😊

#toreishi speaks #personal #tag game

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pisati · 5 years ago

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december’s only just started but I think now’s a good a time as any to start a 2019 recap.

I don’t remember much of the first half of this year, if I’m honest. I remember it starting in a pretty dark place. I do remember starting talking to Gavin at the tail end of 2018; that was honestly a light spot in that space of time. I’d really been through it last year, and it was so nice and refreshing to talk to someone who genuinely seemed to care, who was genuinely interested in what I had to say and was genuinely curious about me. I felt kind of weird about that level of attention at first, but now I miss it. time’s gone on, what can I say, maybe I’m a little attached. not painfully so, but. this is someone I really do care about a lot.

which is why I’m still pretty regretful about january. I still don’t really know what happened over festivus weekend. I’d been so upset for so long, and next thing I know it’s back to the usual. but it was just.. nothing. I felt blank. my heart dropped into my stomach the next day once I realized how something that felt so insignificant could be so hurtful, and honestly I spent all of festivus in that dead zone at T’s house just really upset with myself. I don’t know how much I would’ve enjoyed it even if that hadn’t happened.

my depression was really bad. I remember my emotions being all over the place. I remember drinking and eating bundt cake alone at home in my bathtub on valentines day. I remember sending some messages I kind of regret, others just for fun, because fuck it, why not? I remember spending a lot of time in bed. a lot of time trying to reassure myself that I hadn’t done irreversible damage; that I hadn’t fucked up everything as per the usual. journaling, trying to keep my mood up above rock bottom. I was fostering that litter of rats early in the year, and that felt like a whirlwind. I remember going out to dinner with a friend, and coming home, even after having a good night, in a horribly sad mood. I barely remember any of the rest of it.

I’m sure some good things happened earlier in the year too. one of the few things keeping me sane, besides my rats, was waking up in the middle of the night to snapchat and whatsapp messages from Gavin. I was a complete mess, but having someone consistently showing me they cared and actually wanted to.. I don’t know, follow all my social media, get to know me, all that. it was nice. I remember having a real bad day mood-wise and going to yoga with charlotte, and coming back to a message that I was the ~some kinda angel~ he’d been dreaming about. amazing how something like that can pick you right up. I remember a lot of voice clips; he was real excited to hear my voice the first time. I don’t much care for my voice, but... that enthusiasm gave me a little more confidence to do more song covers. I hadn’t recorded that many in years, if ever.

I think I went to a few shows earlier in the year. I got to meet Phoebe Bridgers, which was so cool. Carmen took me back out to Baltimore after I’d just seen Hozier, and we saw Weezer and The Pixies. and I got to hear all about her girlfriend troubles and her adventures in Cuba. it was really nice reconnecting with a friend, hearing how she’s been trying to do better for herself, and she really is. I can’t say I’m not a little jealous of her; her confidence and radiance; but I’m also really proud of her too.

I started my mood tracker app in february, and I think I started seeing my psychiatrist not long after that. I’m still amazed she started me on something that didn’t make me sick, and might actually be working for me. I’m still recalling that one night I had, must’ve been february. I felt absolutely godawful, and nothing helped. it wasn’t anything in particular, I just felt Bad. I wouldn’t have done anything stupid, but I also felt for a minute like it’d never go away. I tried everything. I tried a bath, possibly a face mask. I tried writing, I think. I tried music. I even put on a disney movie or two like I would if I were feeling sick (I rarely ever watch anything disney, but when I get panicky from nausea I need something comforting). nothing helped. that I think is what prompted me to go to a psychiatrist this time. I hadn’t been in that deep of a pit in a long time.

things started to pick up with the weather. I felt myself balance out. I really thought for a minute that I was going to scare Gavin away with my erratic moods, and I thought he had this perception of me that I was some kinda crazy or overemotional or whatever else... but I was just in a real bad spot. I’m still grateful that he stuck by me through all that, and wasn’t too weirded out by me for it to be actually exciting when I got my plane tickets to Scotland. I was really excited too, but of course kind of nervous because I’d never been that far away from home by myself before.

I remember doing a good bit of volunteering, but I was really tired and couldn’t keep up with much more than one day a week. my energy levels were worrying. I know I saw a few doctors, because thankfully I had the time, but they weren’t terribly helpful.

I’m sure I went to more shows. I lost my Louie in June, not long after his second birthday. that was heart-shattering. I wasn’t expecting it from him; he was just fine. he just had a lump removed from his tail. he was such a happy, sweet boy. I couldn’t believe one minute he was snuggling with his cagemates, and the next I was holding his tiny little body in my hands, trying to get CPR to work, watching the life leave his eyes. taking him to the crematory was hard. picking up his ashes was hard. everything about it was hard. but I had to keep going. I wasn’t expecting that at all, and I was so scared Ollie would be alone, because Fitzie’s time was coming fast too. he’d been deteriorating over the course of the year and I just knew it was only a matter of months. his legs were going, and he couldn’t clean himself. towards the end I had to check his privates at least once a day; male rats get buildup of various fluids, oil, and skin cells, and those plugs can block their urethras. they generally clean it themselves, but when they get so old they can’t do it. so it was up to me to pull it out. I can’t say it wasn’t weirdly satisfying, kind of in the same way that popping a big pimple is satisfying, but it was definitely gross.

so I looked for more rats to adopt. and by some miracle, just like the day after Marty passed, I found a brand new litter posted by the rescue some of my fosters went to. I went to meet the baby boys and picked two, and while I probably could’ve picked a better match... I love my Harper and Micah to bits. they’ve got such personalities on them.

but of course, nothing is ever convenient. right after I adopted them (because I had to go through such a long adoption process; I could’ve had more time otherwise), I had to go to farm jam. I was a little over-prepared this year, but I’m glad I got myself a nice tent and prepared for rain. farm jam honestly wasn’t that great this year, though. my friends wanted to hang out with each other, hardly anyone talked to me, and their friends from other places that I didn’t even know had other friends that they brought to our campsite, so there were a lot of strangers around. not that that’s a bad thing, but... I just felt uncomfortable. everything is so different now. not to mention I just felt really alone. people talked to me when they needed to. I ended up actually pretty bored; I’d brought some things to keep myself entertained, but I was asleep before midnight every night because there was only so much I felt like staying awake for by myself. there was one night I was just really upset, so I made myself a quick dinner and shut myself in my tent while everyone else was up all night. I read by lantern-light, put in my earplugs after I was tired enough, and went to sleep. I was ready to be home again. I’m not sure if I want to go again next year. I like farm jam, truly, but it’s just not fun when you’re surrounded by ‘friends’ who can’t eve be bothered to talk to you. it was painfully obvious that I’m just not part of the group anymore.

I was glad to have Scotland to look forward to. I got to unpack and repack; thankfully I was smart enough to make packing lists before I even left for farm jam. I was nervous as all hell once I got to BWI and found my terminal, and once I landed in JFK I was trying real hard not to call my mom like I usually do when I get nervous. I get the travel jitters pretty bad. but I took some zzzquil before I got on the plane, and since I’d already been up all day I was grateful to sleep through a good bit of the 5.5 hour flight. I managed to stave off jet lag by staying up for another full day, but I can’t say I enjoyed it, ha.

I did enjoy everything else about that trip, though. I definitely had plenty of high points in my year (much more than last year, for sure), but this trip was probably the best. I know I wasn’t the most expressive (I guess I’ve learned not to be?), but I loved it there. I also know I got real lucky with the weather, so it’s not always as gorgeous as it was when I visited, but it really was lovely. I’d love to go back to Gourock one of these days. sit on the shore; a little slice of such a big world. I wouldn’t have wanted to skip rocks with much of anyone else.

I had a moment while I was catching my breath in Edinburgh; I’d gotten the tiniest bit lost and wound up in the park across the street from the Botanic Gardens, so I sat on a bench for a bit so I wouldn’t look weird. after a while I got up and crossed a big football field to get back where I was trying to go, and I remember looking up at the sky for a split second, and it really hit me that I was alone. that was the furthest away I’d been from home by myself, and I was in a city 2 hours away from the only other person I knew for thousands of miles. it wasn’t scary, necessarily. not even lonely. I think that feeling would’ve given me anxiety in the past. it was just... a profound aloneness.

I was really proud of myself for tackling Edinburgh by myself. figuring out the trains, going to see the castle, managing to avoid looking like a tourist so nobody hassled me, finding a little record shop to browse through, walking around the gardens alone. I was in so much pain I couldn’t even believe it, though. I’m amazed I made it back to the train without my leg bones breaking through my heels, and amazed I could even still walk by the time I got back to Gourock. my hips were so stiff and every step was hard. I know I pushed it. but it was so worth it.

I miss the feeling. that no-obligations feeling; being able to do pretty much anything we wanted because it was vacation time. I do remember feeling bad, not knowing what it was that I must’ve said or done (because why else would you go quiet on me?). that wasn’t so fun. but I know I’m not unreasonable. I’m not hard to talk to, I don’t think. I don’t explode over little things; I’d much rather talk through them than be left wondering what I did wrong, and then do it again. I don’t mean to be rude or mean or anything like that. we grew up with very different perceptions of things but I want to be on the same page, and sometimes that means being a little more conscious of what I say and do.

I wasn’t really looking forward to coming home, but thankfully I had a little bit more down time before I started my new job. and ever since the end of august, I’ve been in work mode, it feels like. I’ve tried to keep up with volunteering, I’ve kept myself entertained sending packages out to Scotland (can’t say I’m a fan of international shipping costs though), and I’ve dealt with the loss of a few pets. I’ve been lucky enough to have my mom’s help with moving out, and I feel like my meds are really helping me now too. I feel a lot more balanced out than I did, and having such a good work environment is helping immensely. I’m still not quite where I want to be, but I feel better than I have in years both mentally and emotionally.

the emotional front has changed too. back at the beginning of the year, I was so messed up, still. there was a lot of residual hurt after the 2 years or so prior, but I was also still super depressed. but the waters have calmed, and I’ve found that I’m not completely alone, necessarily. I have the hope that I have one person in my life now that won’t give up on me. I’ve had... something like a year now of something relatively consistent. I feel like I’ve been able to build some trust, and like I’m slowly chipping away at these walls I’ve had built up. for the first time in years I’m actually kind of upset about feeling lonely. for the first time in years I’m not feeling sick to my stomach thinking about holding a hand, or someone holding me, or, god forbid, even kissing someone. I might even want that. and it’s weird to me, now, because it almost seems out-of-character, since I’ve been so messed up for so long. but this isn’t out-of-character, it’s the character I used to be before things all went sideways. I’ve had this image of being distant and detached and repulsed and unfortunately that ends up getting tied to the fact that I’m asexual (though in actuality they’re not related). but I know that’s not me. I know my asexuality is just a fact about my attraction to other people, and it has little to do with my behavior. it’s weird to me, feeling like this again, but I’m so relieved the damage might not have been permanent. it helps that my memory is such garbage. hard to remember how to feel fucked up when you can’t hardly remember how you got there to begin with.

maybe my year will end on a little brighter note. I’m seeing a new rheumatologist on new years eve. I hope a few people will come visit for new years. I’ve got crafts to do and things to keep myself busy with. I hope Gavin will want to skype before the end of the year, but I get not feeling good. I get that talking takes energy. sometimes I feel like I just take a lot of energy to interact with, so I’m trying not to be annoying. I’m fine doing my own thing, as I have been. but I do miss his [virtual] company. it’s getting a lot more obvious since moving out how really quiet and lonely it is by myself, and I have this feeling in the bit of my stomach that I’d feel a lot better if I could share this space with someone. sometimes I just want to show someone something, make them smile, talk about little nothings. and I don’t have that right now. I’m trying to let little things make me happy and let that be good enough, but it’s hard sometimes. it would just be really nice to be able to rest my head on a shoulder. to laugh about a dumb tv show with someone. even though I feel a lot better than I used to when I missed people, things sometimes just aren’t as good alone.

a lot of this year felt really foggy. but I’m glad to be where I am, even though it’s making me nervous. I hope I’m putting a good foot forward. and I hope 2020 brings more growth and healing. I hope one of these days I can learn to be the kind of person I want to be, and that I can be good for someone else too. so I can just know that to at least one person I’m not completely insufferable. so I don’t have to be so afraid that I’m just going to drive people away so I self-isolate. I’m doing a lot better about the negative thoughts, but I want to keep improving on that too. I have a lot of work to do, but I want to do it. it’s scary to feel like I’m doing so much alone. it’s sad knowing everyone else is caught up in their own lives, but at least most of them have someone else. it hits me sometimes how really, really lonely it is to have your own life but completely alone. I don’t mind being single. but it would be nice to come home to someone I love. someone that isn’t my rats, though of course they brighten my day no matter what, ha.

so. yeah. I’m a little hopeful. I want to get my shit figured out a little bit more. it’d be real nice to go back to Scotland too, but I might have to put that idea on hold til my life balances out a little more. I’m just going one day at a time right now. I’m doing my best. and thankfully my best is getting a little better. I want to keep that up.

#a scattered 2019 recap #I had an ok year relatively speaking #it was nice to have something calm after the shitshow that was 2018 #I hope 2020 is even better #I'm gonna be miserable in the morning goodnight

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yellowsweaterzz · 4 years ago

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Last night I had a dream about you. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time in a while. The dreams used to be bad. I couldn’t get the imagery off of the backs of my eyelids, leaving me terrified to even attempt sleep without the aid of some zzzquil and some sort of documentary droning in the background. Those dreams stopped, you stopped. For a while. When you came back, they were different, more of a fantasy. Imagining a world in which things were different, in which we met again. Usually taking place somewhere that was so filled with you that they couldn’t be anything else. The park by your house, at night, in the snow. A subway car. The parking lot outside that small venue that was really just an old garage down an alley. These dreams left me waking up wanting to return to that dream world. Sometimes, I would even fall asleep, next to a different boy, imagining a scenario in which I would be visiting your city, and I would text you and tell you I was outside your house.

Are you home?

I’m here.

One time I had a dream about you. The next day when I opened up my laptop, one of your songs started automatically playing from my music library without any manual prompt from me. I considered it one of those funny little coincidences spurred on by the will of the universe. You know, the ones that mean something. Sometimes you’d be on my mind, and then you would send me a message. Every six months or so, you’d send me a message. Maybe it’s like an internal clock. When that six month mark comes around, my body begins to anticipate it so subconsciously that it leaves me wondering if there’s something between us still connected. When in reality, it’s probably just pattern recognition.

I had a dream about you last night. I think I’ve been waiting for you to message me. And after what happened last time, I don’t think I can be the first one to do it. Maybe you’re sitting there, somewhere (I don’t even know where you are right now), and you’re thinking the same thing. Maybe you feel bad. That you click on my name. You see the little green icon indicating that I am online, that I am available, that I am at my computer and you’re so close to doing something about it, but then you think better of it.

Open a new tab.

Distract yourself.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the last time I saw you and how I didn’t know it was the last time I would see you.

You did it on purpose, to lighten the blow. Make me think that things weren’t indefinitely over. That we’d see each other again, and who am I to say that we won’t. We have our whole lives to determine that. But it’s been about four years now and we haven’t gotten close.

It was cold that day, and we were standing outside of the station, and you kissed me goodbye like things were normal. Like we were still dating. I watched you get on the train, and I watched the train roll away, and I watched until there was nothing to watch anymore.

I guess that’s the benefit, or perhaps the flaw of our situation. Dating someone who lives in another city. When you break up there is no chance of running into them somewhere. No matter how big a city may be, there is that possibility. That you could walk past someone from your past on the sidewalk and pretend like you didn’t notice.

I once went on a date with a guy and there was nothing wrong with him, in fact, he was great, but I didn’t end up making arrangements to see him again. It was the first date I had been on after we had broken up, and we went to this independently owned cafe near the university that doubled as a used bookstore. I remember that I ordered a Russian Breakfast tea, which interested him because he was Russian. We stayed for three hours, and he hugged me goodbye after he walked me to my car. When I offered to give him a drive, he said no. I blew him off after that. I think it was because I liked him enough to know that I couldn’t hurt him, and I didn’t like him enough to selfishly do it anyway. He wasn’t what I needed in that moment. A year after I went on that date, I breezed past him on my way into the photo lab where I got my negatives developed. I didn’t know he did film photography, and so I guess, it surprised me. I let out a hello with an exhale of air, which to my ears sounded pretty pathetic. And then the instant passed and he was gone, and I was standing in front of the counter talking to the girl that worked there. It was kind of like another sign telling me that I missed out on a guy that was pretty good for me. We shared a good taste in music and the finer things in life, literature and films, and, apparently, analog photography. The point I’m getting at is, that that little moment, lingered with me for the rest of the day. The thought of that boy would pop into my mind every so often over the course of the following week. It was such a small moment but it shook me up a bit. I don’t get to have those moments with you. Instead I have dreams about you that leave me shaken. That make me think about what I wasn’t thinking about.

#words

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crochcnqueen · 7 years ago

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I’m 22. I’ve got a great job, am receiving an amazing education, having a loving family, friends who I wouldn't trade for the world, an amazing condo, enough money to buy the things I need and want, and a car that not only runs but is in great condition.

I’m also depressed. I also struggle with extreme anxiety disorder.

There isn’t an easy way to describe what it feels like to walk around with these illnesses when you’re living an extremely privileged life. I feel guilty most days. If you really think about it, there are millions of people in the world who have it way worse than I do. Yet, here I am, night after night, day after day, feeling absolutely miserable.

Most days, I struggle to just put two feet on the floor and get out of bed. At least four times a week I sit here and wonder if my cats really need to be fed. I wonder if I could simply call off work with no consequence. School seems trivial. All that matters is the aching in my chest, the awful nausea that accompanies my anxiety, my quick heart beat and racing thoughts. Sometimes the darkness is so consuming that I’m afraid it’ll never leave.

I spend late nights staring at my ceiling, crying to myself as I try to calculate whether zzzquiling myself to sleep is worth how groggy I’ll be the next day. You see - I can’t just fall asleep. If I don’t take some sort of sleep aid, my heart rate never slows. My mind won’t stop replaying the past 22 years over and over again. I start to wonder if all my friends hate me. The to do list that I left on my desk at work haunts me. I make plans for the next day, the upcoming weeks, the next fifteen years. The notes on my phone are filled with poems that detail my demons. Shadows on my wall taunt me and remind me of how restless I am.

Come morning, I’ll stumble into my kitchen and stare at my fridge. It will be empty. Again. Because grocery shopping takes so much energy. There are too many people, even late at night. I used to be able to stand going at midnight, or one or two in the morning. Now even that much interaction makes me want to hide in a corner.

So then I won’t eat. It would be too much work to cook anyway - at least, that’s what I tell myself. Instead, I stop for coffee. Talking to the barista through the drive thru is like trying to jump a hurdle when you haven’t stretched. I stumble, trying my best to sound cheery, and then I usually fuck up my order anyway. It’s not hard to say “Iced coffee, unsweetened, with almond milk.” But for me, it is.

Work and school are the two things I can’t avoid, and even still, I do my best to get out of those as often as possible. I’ll use all my skips within the first two weeks of the semester, bury myself in a massive pile of work, and promise that I’ll do incredible on the exams. Then finals roll around and I’m too depressed to get out of bed. Again. I spend my free time trying to distract from how terrible I feel, from how dark my mind is all the time. I tell my friends and family that I’m too busy studying to leave my house, but really I’m googling ‘home remedies for anxiety and depression’ because I’m not sure how much longer I can stand to feel like this.

My job is amazing and still, I wonder every second of every day if I’m not enough. There’s whispering by the water cooler and I instantly think they’re talking about me. No matter how comfortable I appear to be with myself, I’m still the insecure, scared person that I am at two am.

I stopped making myself throw up and purposefully starving myself, but now my mental illnesses are almost worse because of it. There’s nothing I can control anymore, no instant results. My body feels weaker than ever because of how broken my mind is.

The worst part is that I’ve tried everything. Medicine. Taking long baths. Running. Shutting my phone totally down for days at a time. Watching funny movies. Watching nothing at all. Listening to music. Sitting in complete silence. Being more social. Closing myself off. Nothing helps.

Every day I wake up and instantly know whether my mental illness will control me or whether I will control it. Most days, it controls me. On the days that I have the power, I savor every incredible second. Those moments remind me that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, that maybe I won’t feel like this forever.

Unfortunately, I’ve felt like this almost my entire life. I just didn’t know what to call it until the past few years.

I highly doubt anyone, besides myself, will ever read this long, rambling post about what it’s like to live with my mental illnesses. But that’s okay. I just needed to get it all out, to tell someone, even if it’s just myself, about my days.

More than anything, I hope that 2018 is filled with more good days than bad. I don’t hope to be totally cured from this, because I think I’ll be in it’s grips in some ways forever. But I do hope that I can find a way to let more light in, even if it takes all of my energy.

#life #ed #depression #anxiety #bulimia #anorexia #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #tw: eating disorder

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inked-labyrinth-blog · 7 years ago

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The Letter

40 years. It’s been 40 years since Henry has seen the doors of the studio, and he didn't want to see them now. He got that damned letter 10 years ago, and did not want to see that man again. But not even with all of his will power, he couldn't throw the letter away. So, he set it on his desk and forgot about it.

Or at least, he tried to. He tried to toss it, bury it under papers, spill stuff over it, do anything to get it away. There was something that just stopped him from doing it. It was easy to do it at first, partially obstruct it, leave if on the back corner, out of sight, out of mind.

As the years pass, Henry retires at 65, five years after getting the letter. It was getting too stressful to keep up, especially with the letter soon taking up the main workspace on his desk. A year later, he finally opens it. It was an invitation to come back to the studio. He shoves it in the trash can and walks away.

Then, other problems started. He would be out walking and suddenly turn directions and keep walking. He would suddenly get onto the interstate on the way to the store, even though it only lead away from his destination. Once he opened the letter, it happened maybe once a month, but over time, it gradually became more frequent.

This, coupled with him spacing out at times, made for disaster. He could hardly draw or do anything with him trying to go somewhere every few hours. It even interrupted his sleep, and he had to sleep at odd times, and often for only an hour at a time. It was starting to take it’s toll on Henry.

10 years later, it was taking all of Henry’s will power just to stay in his house. He could only sleep with Zzzquil (and not get up minutes later), and feared that if he left, he would never come back. His neighbor pitied him and bought his groceries for him, and at that point was the only one he kept in contact with. Grant had retired on the other side of the country, having made a fortune when computers came out for the public. He made some of the early software to do finances with, and the basis still earns him royalties.

It seemed like every day got harder to get through. It came to a peak when even with the sleeping medication, he couldn't not get back up. So, after two days of no sleep, he spoke with his neighbor.

I have to go. I can't take this anymore. If I’m not back in a few days, call the police and tell them I’ve gone missing.

He waved goodbye to his friend and neighbor before walking back into the house and packing enough lunch for several days, and a change of clothes. Whatever it was seemed to lessen up a bit so Henry could actually succeed without trying to sprint out the door.

Henry dumped the clothes and food on the passenger seat before buckling in and starting the car. He was able to back out of the drive before his mind went into a haze, everything faded to black.

He could barely remember the car ride there. He remembers it turning to night and to day several times, stopping for gas many times. He gets the feeling that he’s lost, but after blacking out for longer than usual, he gets back on track. He doesn't remember eating, except for a few sparse times. The weather gradually changes from brisk to hot, as he got closer to his destination. A far cry from the temperatures in northern Maine.

He looks up a sign saying “Welcome to California” and smiles. He’s almost there.

He can feel the exhaustion nagging at him to sleep, eat, do anything to rest as he pulls into a now-gravel parking lot. Stepping out of the car, he doesn't even stretch his legs to shake off the numbness and just walks to the front door. Henry stopped fighting it days ago, and now that he was at the studio, he realized that he couldn't.

He opens the door, and without breaking a stride, grabs a plush from the projector in the front room and a black book from below the table. Joey’s he vaguely remembered.

He walked to his old office, grabbed the inkwell from under the desk, and left. There wasn't anything else there.

Passing by the graffitied “Dreams Come True”, he picked up the record and continued onwards with a 90 mile stare.

He walked into the Ink Machine room, not bothering with it. There wasn't anything he could do with it now. He walked to the back of the room, and picked up a large gear.

Walking past the pedestal room, he continued onwards to the final room. Boris was strapped down to an operating table, wrench in his chest. Oh my God, J- Without a second thought, he yanked the wrench away from its resting place.

He had everything. He went back to the pedestal room and placed the Sacrifices in their respective places. He walks out of there and into the Viewing room. Pressing the button, he runs out of the room before Ink splatters onto him. Too much time had already been wasted by him. He went back to the lever, and pulled it. The Ink Machine was on.

Henry’s vision snapped back into focus, the exhaustion from days prior rushing to greet him along with the floor as he let go of the activated mechanism. Gasping from the ink fumes, he got to his feet, and limped out the door.

Taking a wrong turn, Henry ended up at the ink machine room. Carefully walking up to the machine, he heard a deep rumbling noise coming from the walls. Henry walked backwards until he saw ink spew out of the machine. He ran.

Ink flooded the hallways, burning his ankles as he trudged towards the exit. Henry could almost grasp the doorknob when he felt the floor crumble beneath him. The ink followed him down as he looked below him.

Henry crashed into the pool of ink, and everything turned to agony, then to darkness.

This is the first fanfic for the AU that I have published ~ Mod Gin

#Inked labyrinth AU #Mod Gin #Writing #Fic

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rebecca-guthealthcoach · 5 years ago

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Here is Jordan's testimony. Let's chat! Jordan's life has changed!! #SLEEP APNEA, #heartburn, stomach aches, #indigestion. Ever since I was in a very serious head on collision. I suffered with a lot of pain and went through a lengthy recovery. I became extremely overweight and experienced a lot of health issues that came along with being overweight. I had trouble sleeping on so many levels, I suffered from SLEEP APNEA I would wake up with shortness of breath or not breathing at all. Sometimes it would be difficult to recover. I scared my wife half to death on many occasions. I had so much PAIN in my body that it would wake me up from a dead SLEEP. I used to snore so loud that my wife had to go to sleep before me or not sleep at all. It was bad! I tried everything to try to ease the snoring: nose strips, kettle pot, nose spray etc.. nothing worked! When I would wake up in the morning I had to wait a few minutes before I could put pressure on my feet. I would walk around like an old man for a few minutes before I could stand up straight. My body ached all over, all the time. Since my jobs have always had strict rules on what kind of medication I could take and still do my job efficiency. I turned to melatonin and zzzquil just to relax and get some sleep. I can't believe it got to the point that I just let my self go. I turned to food for comfort (it didn't help that I married into an awesome family that knows how to cook!) I was headed for disaster and quick and there was no one to blame but myself! As a result of my unhealthy lifestyle I was struggling with so many issues including heartburn, stomach aches, indigestion (I USED TO DRINK PEPTO-BISMOL STRAIGHT OUT OF THE BOTTLE AND EAT TUMS LIKE IT WAS CANDY no joke!!) Then my wife found Plexus. I was skeptical at first. I thought how could the "Pink Drink" help me if the doctors can't even help me. I was to the point to were I was willing to try anything. I saw my wife take Plexus for about 3 months before I really gave Plexus a chance. I would drink the pink drink every now and then just to please her but never stayed committed. Then I saw my wife get relief from women issues and other health issues...... https://www.instagram.com/p/B4WvhIfFu2y/?igshid=7crc2w36ywpz

#sleep #heartburn #indigestion

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canaryatlaw · 7 years ago

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It's late and I'm fucking exhausted, but today was okay I guess. It would've been good probably if I wasn't depressed as fuck and just generally feeling like shit. But the good news is I'm going home tomorrow and I'll get to see my parents and my sister and even go on vacation and hopefully that'll help everything get better, for a little while at least (then I come back and start school, and we'll have to see how that goes). Anyway. Today. I was up to like 2 am for god knows what reason, but I was tired AF but of course had to get up anyway, so I did. Got to work to find a mostly abandoned office, which isn't terribly rare, a lot of people will take Friday off or do field work and not come into the office. It was mostly just me and jail phone calls, lucky me. I finished them, though it took most of the day. My total notes from there were a total of 41 pages, although I was kind and highlighted the best parts for the lawyer I was doing it for. I did find what you'd probably consider to be the "smoking gun", of course it was all the way at the end, but he basically said in no uncertain terms that he doesn't plan on ending their romantic relationship and just moved out to supposedly get their kids back, which is pretty much what we needed to prove they lied their asses off to the court when they said they split up (we knew they were lying, we just needed the proof) so at least there was some payoff for listening to all that craziness. I looked through about 530 pages of medical records and flagged important stuff for a case where the baby was born PCP-exposed, but they ultimately didn't take protective custody until an entire year later (they've been doing intact services for a lot of drug-exposed baby cases, depending on the drug anyway) so that was interesting, kind of, but mostly just boring. I did find out that on that TC I sat in on a while back with the newborn and the mom who had a ton of kids in the system but somehow managed to have a child with a decent guy with no system record and the baby got returned home to him under an OP, apparently one of our interviewers went out to see him at 8 am and mom was over "visiting," which of course means she was really sleeping there, which she's not allowed to do under the terms of the OP, so we'll see what happens with that. It's the same family as the child and family team meeting I listened in on the other day for an older brother. I also did a follow up call for the kid I interviewed back in May before he was released from the juvenile detention center, he's now living with his aunt in Texas, and it was a much more pleasant phone call than the one made from juvie, lol, I joked around with him a bit and he was even like "oh yeah everything's good, except I just picked up a capital murder charge" and I was like WHAT and then he was like "nah I'm just kidding" haha (of course in the back of my head I was thinking he can't be serious because he'd never be home if he was charged with capital murder, so I remained a perfectly calm tone, lol). But that was good, I wrote down what he needs DCFS to do and said we'd get them followed up for him, and yeah the whole thing just made me happy. Then I tried to call his caseworker to follow up on getting him a Texas medical card, but ended up going in circles of voicemails and I eventually left one on someone's machine but I'm not at all confident it was the right persons (oh well). And I left more messages on the machines of the people I've been leaving messages on the machines of for 3 weeks now with zero call backs, but I always green sheet that shit so there's a record of us doing our jobs. Other details, I was fairly open about it being my last day and talked to a few people about it. I tried to stop by my friend from my first semester there's office and my supervisor from last semester's office to say goodbye, but neither was there unfortunately. I can talk to my friend on Facebook at least. I did chat with the receptionist/paralegal/idk what his actual job is but he's "support staff" guy I've been low key flirting with all summer and we traded numbers to "stay in contact" whatever that's supposed to mean. We mostly just joked around because it was something to do, but he's kind of cute so hey you never know. And yeah, I didn't end up getting out of the office until like 5:20 because I was trying to get everything put in its right place, but I think I was successful so that's good at least. Took the bus home and actually made quite good time, made it home by 6:30, which made me think maybe it's jus the 5:14 bus that hits such awful traffic and doesn't get me home till 6:45. Interesting. Not that it matters now that I don't work there anymore. For now, anyway. Feeling fairly ambivalent about the fact that I'm done there, probably largely due to the fact that I've been rather miserable this summer and while it wasn't due to this job it definitely played into it. It's not easy work, you know? It's hard and heartbreaking and don't get me wrong I love it, but it definitely didn't help how absolutely burned out I feel, which scares the shit out of me because what if I always feel this way?? What am I supposed to do with my life then?? Sigh. I just don't know. I did used to really enjoy working there, though, and I'll miss that I guess. I did finally talk to my psychiatrist, he didn't do anything for now but wants me to call him on Monday since I'll be with my family by then and he'll probably adjust some things, so that's....idk. It happened. I got home and was generally exhausted so I did nothing for a while and watched Superman, then eventually did laundry and packed, which took longer than I would've liked getting all the little things together to go on vacation for two weeks but I'm confident I have everything and didn't forget anything major (like my medication!) this time. And yeah, now I'm here and I already said I was exhausted and then wrote this entire long post because apparently I had a lot to say anyway and I have to wake up in 5 hours and get on a plane and I'm not terribly pleased about that but oh well. I can always sleep in the car? I guess. We'll see. Anyway. Sleep now, hopefully anyway. I didn't take any zzzquil but like I said, I'm fucking exhausted and I really shouldn't need it. In theory, anyway. Goodnight dolls. Happy weekend.

#daily journal #August 2017

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phooll123 · 5 years ago

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New top story from Time: Procter & Gamble CEO David Taylor Talks Equality, The Economy, and Why Leaders Wear Masks

(Miss this week’s The Leadership Brief? This interview below was delivered to the inbox of Leadership Brief subscribers on Sunday morning, June 14; to receive weekly emails of conversations with the world’s top CEO’s and business decision makers, click here.)

As the United States—and the world—continues to reckon with systemic racial injustice, David Taylor, CEO of the $67 billion multinational consumer goods company Procter & Gamble, acknowledges that “it’s time for action.” As a start, P&G announced in early June that it was launching a “Take On Race” fund to support organizations pursuing equality: the company made an initial $5 million contribution. More work, however, lies ahead. “Far too often, the burden of seeking equality rests on the shoulders of those most marginalized,” says Taylor. “This simply won’t work.”

On the sales front P&G, in its 183rd year, is one of the rare companies thriving in the pandemic. Quarantined consumers have been stocking up on P&G products like Pampers, Mr. Clean and Charmin. P&G has also adjusted its plans to meet emerging COVID-19 needs. Early on in the crisis, for example, a team at a P&G facility in Boston figured out that the plastic in Gillette packaging could be used to make face shields for health care workers. “We don’t make face shields,” says Taylor. “But they said, ‘We can. We could repurpose this, change this, work with somebody here’ and now we’re going to ship 300,000 of them by the middle of June.”

With sanitizer in short supply, a P&G plant in Lima, Ohio, repurposed some of its perfume-making equipment for detergents and fabric softeners. “They got the World Health Organization formula and then within days were making sanitizer in 55-gallon barrels,” says Taylor. The company is now pumping out 45,000 liters of sanitizer a week. “We’re not selling any of it,” he says. “We’re giving it away, or we’re using it in our plants and our operations to stay safe.”

Taylor, a Charlotte, N.C., native, has spent his entire career at P&G—he started in 1980 out as a production manager in North Carolina plant that made adult diapers. He recently joined TIME for a video conversation from his home office in Cincinnati: he outlined P&G’s response to the unrest engulfing the country, shared concerns about new COVID-19 outbreaks, and talked about how he stays energized. (Hint: running up and down stairs between meetings helps.)

Subscribe to The Leadership Brief by clicking here.

(This interview with Procter & Gamble CEO David Taylor has been condensed and edited for clarity).

How do you lead a massive organization through what the country is going through right now?

It’s important, as a leader, to connect personally, meaningfully and empathetically with all employees. It’s also a time for action. Far too often, the burden of seeking equality rests on the shoulders of those most marginalized. This simply won’t work. The change we need is broad and deep and requires us all to be active—as friends and colleagues, and as allies and advocates.

Specifically, what is P&G doing internally?

We have and will continue to build a diverse employee and leadership base to reflect the consumers we serve, and foster an inclusive, respectful, welcoming and affirming culture. We are ensuring we view our business practices through an equality lens. We are also continuing to create safe spaces for dialogue within P&G, living our values, and demonstrating our humanity.

And what is the company doing externally?

It’s important that we step up to help create the world in which we want to live. So, P&G and our brands are stepping up our ongoing efforts to advance equality for all people, and especially, right now, for Black Americans who face racism and bias. We established the P&G “Take On Race” fund with an initial contribution of $5 million to help fuel organizations that fight for justice, advance economic opportunity, enable greater access to education and health care and make our communities more equitable.

What have you communicated to your workforce this week?

This is an important moment for listening, empathy and action. I reached to P&G people not only as a leader, but also as a concerned citizen, father and husband—reinforcing my personal continued commitment to equality and justice and to affirm P&G increased efforts in this area.

Far too often, the burden of seeking equality rests on the shoulders of those most marginalized. This simply won’t work.We know that our success is grounded in the success of our employees, consumers and communities. All of them.

Shifting to the pandemic, do you have concerns about a second wave?

If I would wish anything more broadly for society is to not dismiss this if you don’t have it or know somebody that has it. Because it is a very transmissible disease. And when you’re outside your home, just be conscious that even if you’re not wearing a mask, the risk of you infecting somebody, if you’re asymptomatic, is real. I am concerned when you see the things that you see on TV. Many, just out of frustration of being cooped up, may put their guard down. And the risk is that we start to get the seesaw. We get better, then worse. Better, then worse. And certainly, for the health of all citizens, and all people, I hope people take it very seriously.

P&G has manufactured millions of masks during the pandemic. What do you think of the President’s actions relative to masks?

What I will say is I do believe that leaders need to role model the desired behavior. So when I’m out at the grocery store, always a mask. P&G people, they recognize that role modeling matters because others look to what leaders do. And so that’s why in our plants, our plant leaders should wear masks. It’s important for all of us to recognize that people will look to others for signs of what’s the best behavior. I’ll leave it at that.

Let’s get the toilet paper questions out of the way. On March 12th, toilet paper sales increased by more than 700% year-over-year, making it the top-selling product in the country for the day. Why toilet paper?

It goes back to a very simple thing, which is if there’s uncertainty ahead and you’re not sure you’re going to be able to go to a store, think of any product in your home that if you didn’t have would be a problem. If you don’t have certain things, there’s a good alternative. But when you get to basic care of yourself, there’s not a lot of substitutes for toilet paper. What would you do for three or four days without toilet paper?

So this was a demand surge, not a supply issue? For the record, there is no shortage.

Absolutely. Supply has actually been fine. Supply is up. It’s largely over now, but there was a short-term spike where people started hoarding and stocking up. If you buy a three-month’s supply then all of a sudden the shelves get bare.

I understand that it’s a surprisingly complex product to manufacture.

We have a proprietary process that we developed many years ago that gives you the softness and strength that you want in Charmin. It’s a wet strength so that it does its job, but then it dissolves so that it can go down the toilet. And Bounty is a product that if you’ve ever gotten it wet, it doesn’t fall apart. So it’s got absorption, but it doesn’t fall apart when wet. So it’s a different technology. It is high-speed, very technical manufacturing. The technicians and managers that run it are very, very skilled.

Has this experience changed your view about “just-in-time” inventories and how much cushion needs to be built into the system?

Not largely. I’ve been with P&G 40 years and I’ve seen maybe a couple of these over four decades. So, the risk in over-rotating back to big inventories is you tie up a lot of assets and there’s inefficiency there for the whole system.

Subscribe to The Leadership Brief by clicking here.

What other products that you make are seeing strong demand?

There’s a long list of things. Anything that deals with personal or family safety, we’re seeing spike. We’ve seen Mr. Clean do well. Even things like sleep aids, ZzzQuil, because people are at home and there’s the stresses of all of this. That category is growing faster than it was before.

What about razors and razor blades and shaving cream?

That category has been negatively impacted. And it’s because people when they’re at home, you’ll generally see less shaving. If you normally shave each day before you go to work, you may say ‘I’ll do it every two or three days.

What is your personal outlook for the economy?

I’m not an economist, but I do believe that it’s going to be a difficult period until we get to the vaccine. And even then, the vaccine may or may not be one that’s always effective. Certainly, my hope is for the fastest recovery. My belief is that we’ll be in a bumpy period for a number of months until we get probably into early ’21.

Your facilities are deemed essential and are operating at full capacity. How are you operating safely?

For the plants we’re operating, and our distribution centers, and our offices, we’ve learned from our experiences in China and in Italy, early on, when it was very bad there, in both those places, that we have to be very disciplined. When you come in at the door, temperature checks. If there’s any issue there, stay at home and get checked out. If you don’t feel well, stay at home. If you’re in a high-risk group and uncomfortable, stay home. If you have a comorbidity that causes you to be concerned, stay home, and we have very good plans and benefits to take care of people.

Then, if you clear the temperature check, you have to have a mask on; we have masks available for our people in plants. And then once you’ve cleared temperature checks and you have your mask, then we’ve gone to social distancing throughout our buildings.

China is your second largest market: Are you worried about the U.S.-China relationship?

Certainly. I think it would be very bad for the U.S. and for China and for the world, for the two largest economies to decouple and not have free and open trade. The rhetoric that we see at times is very concerning. My hope is, and I don’t have perfect knowledge, my hope is that there are behind the scenes, thoughtful, respectful dialogue, and negotiations going on. I do believe change needs to take place on some of the things like intellectual property rights. We’ve seen progress. And we believe dialogue and negotiation is much better than decoupling.

Hunger is an issue you’re passionate about. Why can’t the richest country in the world, our country, feed all of its citizens?

I spent eight years on the board of Feeding America. And it’s one of the questions, frankly, and one of the challenges we put forth to both lawmakers and to a number of other donor companies to say we collectively can do better. I don’t know the latest numbers, but over 15 million children are food insecure. There’s a lot of food that’s not harvested because there’s not a way to get it from the field to a person that’s hungry. There’s not an economic model. And those are the kind of things that Feeding America is working on addressing. There’s a food system for all of us with money. There needs to be a food system for those that for a period of time are unable to care for themselves, and that’s what the food system that Feeding America and the food banks are working on.

What was your first job at P&G?

My career is atypical. I started as a shift manufacturing manager in Greenville, North Carolina on one of our paper businesses. I worked there for five years. There were really powerful career journey learnings to work in a manufacturing environment, on shift. On third shift, nobody cares what degree you have. They care whether you can get that line back up. And it was just amazing to see the way the team would come together when you valued each other for what you can do. Not for what title you may have or what degree you may have.

What did the plant make?

The brand was Attends, we don’t have it any more, and it was for adult incontinence. So it was a big diaper. A mega-Pampers, if you will. An adult diaper.

What is the least favorite part of your CEO job?

It’s big meetings, lots of people and lots of Powerpoint. And then people feel they have to share everything they know. I’m really not interested in being presented to a lot. I’m not wild about sitting down, review, review, review. What I want to do is talk to people and add value where I can. The other thing that does happen at times in big companies is there’s a lot of filtering. And I really value when you go to a plant, or to a sales office, or to an R&D Center, talking to the person that’s closest to the consumer or the customer as opposed to going through something that may have been filtered and vetted too much for alignment.

Where do you feel you really add value?

What I don’t believe is in micromanaging. My job is not to manage. It’s to lead.

There’s two or three things that I think are most important, where I can add value because the people that run the businesses do a great job: On talent, to make sure we have the right people in a team that works together. And it’s probably one of the things I put the most energy into everywhere I’ve been in my career. I believe so much that when you have a diverse team with a lot of different experiences, and different nationalities, genders, and, it’s critically important, and you create the environment — the inclusion — where they truly feel they can come as themselves and speak truth to power.

And one of the reasons I’ve been successful is not because I have the answers. I’ve learned many years ago, I don’t have to know the answer. I don’t have to be right. I have to get the right thing done. Many people try to be right. I just need to ensure the right thing gets done. And it’s a powerful thing to believe that not one of us is smarter than all of us.

It’s a powerful thing to believe that not one of us is smarter than all of us.The second is a focused, clear, understandable strategy. When we don’t perform well, it’s not that we don’t have good people. It is for whatever reason, either our strategy is not focused, which we’ve had cases in our company where we tried to chase too many objectives, too many mouths to feed, or we created a structure that inhibited people’s creativity and capability to contribute.

Any lessons that you picked up from mentors?

I want to be present for everybody I meet with. For somebody coming in, often it’s a big deal. Even though it’s just David, it’s still the CEO of P&G. And part of what you want to do is to be fully present. I’ve learned that from some of the great leaders that I’ve worked with in the past on how great I felt when I met with them. And they actually have seemed like they paid attention to me, and listened.

You have a lot on your plate: Any time management tips?

I generally focus less on time management. I believe — and I learned this from a course I went to many years ago — in energy management. If you’ve got the energy, you’ll make good use of your time. So that’s where you get up, wake on time every day. Drink a ton of water. And if you get a little bit tired in the day, especially with jet lag, run up and down stairs, and you’re back on again. Anything that kicks your heart rate up to keep your cognitive facilities clicking is going to help.

You run up and down stairs between meetings?

Oh yeah, I’ll do that often. My office is on the 11th floor of the building. The cafeteria is on the 5th floor. I haven’t used the elevator, I can’t remember the last time, to go to lunch. I run down 6 stories, get your lunch. Run up 6 stories, and then it sets you up for the afternoon.

TAYLOR’S FAVORITES

BUSINESS BOOK: Predictably Irrational by Dan Ariely

AUTHOR: David Baldacci.

APP: Both the app and device would be the Fitbit because it’s the way I help keep myself (healthy). I’ve got it on right now, and I make sure I get my 10,000 steps. I almost always get my 70,000 by the end of the week. If I had to do a ton on the weekend, then it’s the way I keep myself honest.

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itsfinancethings · 5 years ago

Link

Subscribe to The Leadership Brief by clicking here.

(This interview with Procter & Gamble CEO David Taylor has been condensed and edited for clarity).

How do you lead a massive organization through what the country is going through right now?

Specifically, what is P&G doing internally?

And what is the company doing externally?

What have you communicated to your workforce this week?

Shifting to the pandemic, do you have concerns about a second wave?

P&G has manufactured millions of masks during the pandemic. What do you think of the President’s actions relative to masks?

So this was a demand surge, not a supply issue? For the record, there is no shortage.

I understand that it’s a surprisingly complex product to manufacture.

Has this experience changed your view about “just-in-time” inventories and how much cushion needs to be built into the system?

Subscribe to The Leadership Brief by clicking here.

What other products that you make are seeing strong demand?

What about razors and razor blades and shaving cream?

What is your personal outlook for the economy?

Your facilities are deemed essential and are operating at full capacity. How are you operating safely?

China is your second largest market: Are you worried about the U.S.-China relationship?

Hunger is an issue you’re passionate about. Why can’t the richest country in the world, our country, feed all of its citizens?

What was your first job at P&G?

What did the plant make?

The brand was Attends, we don’t have it any more, and it was for adult incontinence. So it was a big diaper. A mega-Pampers, if you will. An adult diaper.

What is the least favorite part of your CEO job?

Where do you feel you really add value?

What I don’t believe is in micromanaging. My job is not to manage. It’s to lead.

Any lessons that you picked up from mentors?

You have a lot on your plate: Any time management tips?

You run up and down stairs between meetings?

TAYLOR’S FAVORITES

BUSINESS BOOK: Predictably Irrational by Dan Ariely

AUTHOR: David Baldacci.

Subscribe to The Leadership Brief by clicking here.

#IFTTT #Blogger

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