#these posts are only gonna get more unhinged as the night progresses

[otrtbs]

at the end of the day i did get to see harry styles perform to be so lonely and ever since new york and medicine live so ….. i won 😀 i dont need to go to italy 😀 i don’t need to be at the last show 😀 i ,,,,, won 😀 right?? right ???? 😀😀😀😀

[silkylious]

Tsunami (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Bakugo x fem reader

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff

A/N: Ahhhh this is my first post on tumblr, i hope you like some bittersweet  goodness w angry boi. constructive criticism is much appreciated!

Love.

Such a complex, convoluted emotion that many people find themselves falling helplessly victim to. Of course, there are the cheesy scenes in romantic movies that exaggerate and almost drain all meaning from the prickly feeling; sharing a sweet kiss while basking in the cool caresses of dewdrops, or having a dim-lit home dinner -scenes which drove his gag reflex reeling, he simply couldn’t understand the appeal of mushing faces with someone when he had better things to do, to achieve. He was going to be the number one, dammit, he didn’t have time to waste on cuddling and doing “couple-y shit” with some extra. That’s not to say he’d never had a crush, or found some girls attractive, hot even, but he kept in mind all his “crushes” (he loathes that word with a burning passion) were merely fueled by his hormonal mind, driven by pure sexual attraction. Nothing more, nothing less. So, he never sought out relationships.

And that was enough for him to keep his peace, unhindered and undisturbed on his desolate little boat, one that he was rowing tirelessly towards his end goal, with no waves and no turbulences daring to stand in his way of firmly grasping that number one spot.  

Until a tsunami came crashing in, pummeling him off his safe cruise.

That tsunami was you.

He really should have seen the signs -no that’s not right, he definitely noticed the red flags raising in his peripherals, he should have acknowledged them. It started out as small, barely existent ripples, something to break the monotony of his journey and rock his boat gently. You’d always greet him with that stupidly bright smile, the one that made him feel uncomfortable, skittish (though he hadn’t realized why yet), the one that surely made the sun writhe in boiling jealousy. No matter what time of the day it was, how early in the morning or how deep into the night, you always seemed to make it a point to address him with that unhinged, cheeky grin. He’d reply with a curt nod, or a faint grunt if you caught him on a good day, wanting desperately to ignore the brewing sensation inside him.

“Hey, Bakugo! Did ya sleep well?”

He never replied to the tedious question, refusing to give into the one-sided small talk. That didn’t stop you from resuming your daily routine of pestering him about his training progress or babbling about some movie he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t pay an inkling of attention to the stream of word vomit pouring out of your mouth, no, he much rather zoned in on the way your lips move languidly, still upholding that infuriating smile, the way stray follicles fell over your neck, having escaped from the usual updo you were sporting. His concentration faded in and out of the single-sided conversation, managing to scrap together bits and pieces of whatever you were droning on about. Though he never made any effort in reciprocating your enthusiasm, he never shut you down either (like he would most people), and that was incentive enough for you to keep coming back. To keep talking his ear off with a cluelessly precious smile.

Looking back, he probably should have stopped it there, but he didn’t, he couldn’t help but revel unconsciously in your optimism, though he’d be buried six feet underground before he admitted that. It looked all too peaceful, he didn’t mind the soft stir in his boat, and he was more than content to leave it at that. But then you had to go and push your luck.

You were infinitely aware that he treated you… differently, to say the least, your classmates were also painfully conscious of his strangely tamed and, dare I say, docile way he acted around you, everyone with eyes could see it, except him apparently. Even if he was agonizingly oblivious to his own feelings, yours too, your heart couldn’t help but accelerate whenever he displayed a rare act of kindness towards you. One time in particular, he scolded you for overworking yourself while tending to your wounds, his words lacking the usual bite, none the wiser to the chest palpitations he was effortlessly causing. You couldn’t take it, you had to test your luck. You desired to be closer to him, for him to view as more than a nuisance, you wanted to be more than just acquaintances. With caution thrown to the wind, you embarked on a mission to befriend the Bakugo Katsuki.

That’s when the small ripples that would gingerly sway him turned more rigorous; they evolved into waves, ones he needed to smoothly ride if he didn’t want to fall victim to their ferocity.

He became much more aware of your stature in his lifestyle, how could he not? You’d made it a goal to sit with him during lunch, to share with him your bento box, to talk to him at any given moment. And it was then that he discovered a new part of you, one that was hidden behind your tactful persona. It became a common spectacle during lunch, you two hurling remarks at each other, yours more calculated and sarcastic while his were loud and fiery (in true Bakugo fashion), though the competitive grin stretching his lips, wrinkling the corners of his ruby hues gave away his enjoyment. Bakugo could never get over your quick wit, the speed at which you replied to him with your own quips almost gave him whiplash every time, if he didn’t know better he’d think you were regurgitating pre-written comebacks. It took a bit of coaxing at first, but eventually he gave into your petty bickering (all you had to do was mention Deku this and half-n-half bastard that), and then before he knew it, it was part of his routine, but can you blame him? He was presented with a challenge, of course he’d step up to the plate!

Your waves threatened his quaint, little sail, he had to learn to surf them if he didn’t want to topple over. And so, he did, after all, Bakugo Katsuki never backed down from a challenge.

Your comradery only strengthened from there. You trained together, him pushing your limits with his abysmal power and sheer instinct, you pushing his with precise movements and surprising agility. You strangely complemented each other, both in fighting styles and general attitude. He (aggressively) helped you with your academic shortcomings, and though his methods of teaching were very questionable, they proved to be fruitful as your grades had spiked significantly from his (torturous) aid. You’d grown impossibly closer, spending every waking moment together or thinking about each other. Katsuki didn’t know when it became a habit to anticipate your “goodnight” text, or when just the sight of your face made his anger practically dissipate into thin air.

“So, do you wanna come over to study, I’m kinda struggling with algebra,” You sighed sheepishly, scratching at the back of your head.

“No.” came the blunt response.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be such a meanie!” You jutted your bottom lip out much like how a kid throwing a tantrum would, his eyes couldn’t help but flicker down to the childish pout, when suddenly it turned into a poorly constrained grin. You had an idea. “Well, whatever, I was gonna order takeout from a new place down the road, I heard they have pretty spicy ramen there, but I guess I’ll order for one,”

You watched with mild amusement and well-concealed affection as his fiery eyes seemed to light up at the mention of spicy food. “Fine, dumbass, but I’m only doing this ‘cuz your sorry ass would fail without me,”

“Mhmm, sure thing, Bakugo,” You practically sang, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Bakugo.

That didn’t sound right at this point. Words left him before his brain could even process what he said, what he was insinuating.

“Katsuki.” He mumbled firmly. Your eyes widened a fraction, giving away your surprise.

“W-What?”

“Call me Katsuki,” It came out more assuredly this time, his glare directed forward as you both walked to your destination, missing the soft smile adorning your lips and the affection oozing out of your gaze.

“Sure thing, Katsuki.” His own lips curled into a faint smile, a tiny tug at the corners of his lips.

A push-and-pull rhythm was created between you; your waves pulling him in, only for his skillful hands and sails to conquer them. It was an endless tug of war, neither of you seemed to mind it, it blanketed you both in a sheen of serenity.

The calm before the storm.

It was merely an innocent question, a teasing inquiry at most, directed at him by his electric blonde friend. “So, man, when are you gonna ask (last name) out? Y’know if you don’t ask her soon, someone else will,”

Katsuki could have sworn he switched quirks with the dunce faced idiot, because at that moment his mind fully short-circuited. Him? And (name)? What would even give him that idea? Sure, she was cute and all -wait, cute?? What the actual fuck? His lack of response and the pinkish tint that spread from his cheekbones to the bridge of his nose seemed to get a rise out of Kaminari, because within seconds his head was thrown back, his laughter catching the attention of their red-haired friend. “Yo, man, what’re you laughing at?”

With that, Bakugo seemed to snap out of his trance, sharp eyes snapping between his self-proclaimed friends. His mouth opened, ready to deliver a curt response, something along the lines of “Fucking nothing!” or “Mind your own business, Shitty Hair!” but the other blonde beat him to the punch, loudly bellowing out,

“Bakugo has a crush on (last name)!”

Bakugo wasn’t pleased to say the least, his hand darting out, flexing a lethal explosion that Kaminari barely dodged. Bakugo’s eyes were wide with unadulterated rage, though he really couldn’t tell at who, nor did he care, he was seeing red at that moment and that’s all he could focus on. Before he can aim another strike towards his cowering friend, Kirishima looped his arms around Bakugo’s shoulders, activating his quirk to prepare for the barrage of oncoming explosions that were sure to come his way. “Dude, stop! You’re being super unmanly right now!”

Realizing there’s no point struggling against his friends hold, Bakugo’s figure suddenly slackened, Kirishima very cautiously relinquishing his grip on his friend. Burning rage, confusion, uncertainty and self-deprecation began to settle in Bakugo’s mind all at once, a million questions stampeding his thoughts. He didn’t like that, he hated not being in control, he hated not knowing what was wrong, especially with himself. With a furious shout of “FUCK OFF!” to dispel some of the anger bristling within him, the ash blonde stomped out of the nearly empty classroom, leaving his two friends to share looks of bewilderment.

And that’s when a tidal wave, a tsunami of emotions quaked his lonely ship, flipping it and hurling him off the deck into the freezing cold, wave riddled ocean, leaving him to sink deeper and flail around in a futile attempt at staying afloat.

The coming days, one thing haunted Katsuki like the plague, despite trying his hardest to avoid overthinking, you just seemed to carve your way into his subconscious. Everything reminded him of you, and he absolutely despised it. When had he gotten so distracted? When had his schedule morphed to make room for your presence in his life? When had he began to await seeing you, hearing your obnoxiously sweet voice? When had he gotten so weak? He didn’t need anyone, no one but himself, that’s all he needed to reach the top. If that was true, then why were his days getting more and more bleak as he actively shunned you out, avoided looking you in the eyes and subsequently being blissfully unaware of the look of hurt in your eyes. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you, but he couldn’t help it, he had to put some distance between you.

And so, he kept struggling against the currents, which only made him sink deeper, and deeper. Even so, he kept wrestling with the tides, hoping he’d make it out alive and free.

His absence in your life made you fidgety, but you brushed it off as him having a less than pleasant day, he’d surely go back to normal, right? Wrong. Things continued as they are, you wanted to give him space and all, but it didn’t help that it seemed he was only circumventing you. You wanted to be patient for him, and you were. But even the most patient of people, the most peaceful of saints, had their tipping points.

“I don’t understand you, Katsuki, we were good not even a week ago and now you’re completely avoiding me!”

“So what if I was, huh?! Are you saying that I need you or some shit?! Are you looking down on me, thinking you’re all high and mighty, that you could be the one to befriend the “pitiful lonely guy”?! Are you saying I’m weak, is that it, huh?! I’m not fucking weak, (name), I don’t need you or anyone for that matter, stop tryna coddle me, I don’t need your shitty friendship!”

Ouch, that hurt. He knew he was spouting so much bullshit straight through his teeth, it didn’t even make sense but that was how his self-defense mechanism works. When in doubt, push people you love away in fear of vulnerability. He knew he was being a major asshole, but nothing would’ve prepared him for the look of unbridled hurt and betrayal in your eyes, tears silently carving valleys on your flushed cheeks. Your quivering lip suppressed a wretched sob, before opening to utter a few heartbroken words.

“I see. Sorry I was such a nuisance for you, Bakugo,”

Bakugo, double ouch. That one stung. Hard. He’d never heard your voice so broken, so raw and meek. He walked home alone that day, already regretting everything he said, already missing your bubbly self.

A drift shook both of you away from each other. Your concerned classmates could only watch in silenced misery as you both hurdled yourselves into hero work and training, doing anything it takes to stay distracted. Bakugo thought that at least there would be one upside to arise from this situation, he could focus more on his dreams, he had more time than ever, he can totally utilize this to his advantage. Or so he thought. You infiltrated every crevice in his mind, all he could think about, day in and day out, was you. He’s always prided himself in being self-disciplined and focused, but right now he was anything but. You weren’t fairing any better. Your optimism was missed in the classroom, you forced a smile to reassure your friends, but that was about all you could muster. It seemed there was no end to the spiral the pair of you were sucked into until something happened. Something big happened.

He was kidnapped. Bakugo was kidnapped.

It seemed like a wake-up call to both of you. You could have lost him; he could have lost you. Bakugo realized, strapped to that chair, with the grey-haired, handy man holding a picture of you from the sports festival while babbling some vague threats, that he wanted to protect you, protect what he loved. He loved you. And he had to be better for you. He also realized that he wanted to go back to you. Dammit, he still didn’t apologize for what he said! He needed to return.

He no longer fought against the tide, he didn’t want to, and he wasn’t going to. And with his fruitless squirming against the current coming to an end, he began to rise to the surface, the gradually heating waters holding him afloat.

His return was a giant relief, you wanted to jump into his arms the moment he was saved, but you knew better. He needed time to think, to sort out his thoughts. Though you didn’t expect that he would sort out his thoughts with his fists. With Midoriya. Actually, scratch that, it was a very Bakugo thing to do.

That night you couldn’t sleep, sitting on the U.A. dorms Alliance stairs with a steaming mug of tea between your clutches. Your eyes, which had been transfixed on the constellations lining the night sky, blinked downward when you heard two pairs of footfalls approaching. You instantly recognized the two boys, beaten and battered.

“(name)...?”

His abnormally scratchy voice greeted you, you didn’t have to strain your ears to conclude that he’d been crying. Your stares were riddled with unspoken words, unvoiced feelings, leaving a pregnant tension in the air. A haggard throat-clearing cut through the quiet.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” And with that, the one-for-all user excused himself into the dormitory.

Katsuki shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. He knew what he needed to say he just couldn’t find the will to swallow the lump in his throat and say it.

“Hey, umm-”

Before he can get another syllable out, a force collided with him, shaky arms circling his broad shoulders, mindful of the bruises that littered his porcelain skin. Eyes blown wide; he couldn’t fathom the words that were uttered into his chest.

“I love you, Katsuki. I love you.” A sniff followed the heartfelt words, he felt some tears brimming his own lids.

Carefully bringing his arms around you, wrapping them securely around your waist. Katsuki drifted and swayed on your waves, surfing them skillfully, fully abandoning his past ways, no longer would he scuffle with the ebb and flow of the waters that only hoped of propelling him forward towards his goal. His red gems drifted to the sky, mapping out the stars much like a lost sailor would in search of guidance, though he was anything but lost in that very moment.

His lids dropped, thoroughly fatigued from the day’s events, before his head followed suit, descending and placing feather-like kiss on your head, his strong arms keeping you nestled as close as possible against his chest, a quiet murmur with powerful words left his lips,

“I love you, too. I’m sorry.”

[cryptidshuffle]

the less we say about it the better - chp 1

ao3

Rating: Teen Fandom: Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware Relationships: Tommy Coolatta & Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman (pre relationship) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death(its benrey dont worry hes ok), meta about deaths and respawns, arguing about the rules of uno, gay pining, Mutual Pining, fellas is it gay to comfort ur friend who u love and are both boys?, also fair warning it'll eventually be a poly ship with benrey, Autistic Character, Autistic Tommy, ADHD Gordon, everyone is gay and trans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: “after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental break downs.” they are trying to recover after black mesa, but recovery is hard. especially when one of you is still dead

---------------

They had been out of Black Mesa for a few weeks now. It was difficult trying to acclimate to life after the incident, but they were all making it work.

The science team had gotten together for some sort of game night, something cathartic about being around others who share the same trauma. Anyways, snacks and Uno was just as chaotic as one would imagine with this group of chucklefucks, with competitive tensions high on the last round of the night.

“You can’t stack the draw 4 cards, Gordon,” Bubby argued, smacking Gordon’s hand just as he placed the card.

“Says who?”

“It’s literally against the fucking rules of the game,” Bubby said back.

Tommy agreed with, “It is in the official rules, Mr. Freeman, they- Mattel confirmed it on Twitter.”

“But that’s dumb!” Gordon argued back, “I’ve always played where you can stack those, why change that now?"

Bubby retorted, “Well maybe you’ve always been playing wrong, huh? Ever thought about that, smartass?”

Dr. Coomer chimed in with, “Well on the official page for Uno (card game) on Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit, it states that

The following official house rules are suggested in the Uno rulebook, to alter the game:

Progressive Uno: If a draw card is played, and the following player has the same card, they can play that card and "stack" the penalty, which adds to the current penalty and passes it to the following player.[4](Although a +4 cannot be stacked on a +2, or vice versa.)[6] This house rule is so commonly used that there was widespread Twitter surprise in 2019 when Mattel stated that stacking was not part of the standard rules of Uno.[6]”

“Well, there you have it,” Gordon exclaims, interrupting Coomer’s Wikipedia infodump, “Just because it’s a house rule doesn’t mean it’s not a legitimate way of playing."

“What if I don’t want to play with that rule, that’s fuckin stupid,” Bubby grumbles.

“Jesus ok, I'll play a different card, happy?” Gordon says dejectedly, taking back his controversial draw 4 card for a more innocuous one. “It’s your turn anyways.”

Bubby throws down his last card onto the pile. “I win fuckers!!!! Ahahahahaha!"

“You wouldn’t have won if you let me stack the fucking cards,” Gordon said as he threw his losing card pile onto the coffee table.

“Don’t fret Gordon! Bubby is just extremely good at card games,” Dr. Coomer replied.

“You're forgetting I’m a goddamn genius, that extends to my sick-ass Uno skills,” Bubby bragged.

Gordon chuckled, watching the two older scientists get up to leave, and watching Tommy remain, quietly cleaning up the uno deck into neat piles to place in its box.

“Well gentlemen, it’s been fun, though I think it’s time Bubby and I better get going!” Dr. Coomer said.

“No problem, don’t want you two to be late for your old man early-bird breakfast at Golden Corral tomorrow!” Gordon teased.

“Shut the fuck- I’ll kick your ass,” said Bubby.

“Hello Gord- Actually our old man breakfast is not until Saturday! It’s the one day a week I let loose and unhinge my jaws at the buffet like a Burmese Python!” said Dr. Coomer as Bubby grabs his coat and keys.

“That sounds absolutely horrifying,” Gordon laughs.

“It really is,” says Bubby. “Well, see you later asshole,” Bubby says, herding himself and Coomer out the front door.

“See you guys later,” Gordon says.

“Goodbye, Gordon! Goodbye, Tommy,” Coomer also says, before they leave Gordon’s apartment.

Tommy had yet to get up to leave, he stayed sitting in his seat staring into space, and fiddling with the Uno card deck.

“Hey Tommy, you alright man?” he asked gently. At the mention of his name, he was shaken a bit out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah I'm fine Mr. Freeman, why do you ask?”

“I mean you were kinda just staring into space for a bit, and you didn’t say anything when Bubby and Coomer left.”

“Oh shit. Sorry about that, I’ll get out of your hair,” Tommy said, starting to move to leave.

Gordon placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey, if something’s bothering you, just know I’m here if you wanna talk about it,” Gordon comforted.

Tommy blushed slightly at the contact and nodded.

“Thank you. I-uh… I’ve just been thinking about things that happened back in Black Mesa and, you know,” he pauses to think for a bit, and sighs, “honestly I’ve been thinking a lot about Benrey.”

Just at the mention of him, Gordon felt his stomach drop with the weight of too many emotions.

“Yeah...I uh… I understand,” he responds with a sad sigh, “anything in particular you’re thinking about him?”

“I don’t know just kind of- Earlier I started thinking about how much he would enjoy game night. And then I started to miss him and realize that- that he’s not here. I feel guilty about killing him and upset at what he did. He was still my friend and I just- I want to know why he did what he did. I just want to understand,” Tommy said.

Gordon looked away as he thought about his own emotions regarding Benrey. He was undeniably angry with him, for getting him ambushed by the bootboys, for getting his arm cut off, frustrated with the constant taunting. Yet… he also felt guilty for some reason and he couldn’t quite place why. Gordon really didn’t want to feel guilty.

“Yeah…” Gordon sighed, “I'll be honest I do feel guilty about it too. I don’t know why because I feel like it should be justified since he did try to kill us. But there were times when him pestering me about my arm felt like… like sincere questioning? I still… I don’t know.”

“Yeah… I think-” Tommy cut himself off, staring at a fixed point in his vision, trying to decide whether or not to bring this up.

“I don’t think Benrey understood how human mortality worked.”

Well, that wasn’t what Gordon expected. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he was from Xen, Mr. Freeman, he wasn’t human. It was different for him. You remember he did die several times, but he came back eventually. He had to wait for his form to regenerate.”

“Wait-” this time Gordon cut Tommy off, “Oh shit, that wasn’t a joke?  For some reason I just assumed his talking about respawns and shit was part of his Epic Gamer bit?”

“I mean it was a little but I think… there’s probably a reason Benrey attached himself to video games so much, yeah? He can see himself in the structure. Like, uh- something he can relate to.” Tommy says. “It doesn’t excuse what- what he did, but I feel like knowing why things happened makes- makes them more understandable.”

Gordon leaned back on the couch blown away by the revelation. In hindsight it wasn’t that surprising but it took him a few seconds to come to terms with the reality.

“Yeah, when you put it that way, I guess it does make a lot of sense. Wait though, I swear to god all of you have died at least once, but you guys aren’t from Xen?” Gordon said, now confused about the seeming metanarrative of the mortality of his friends.

“Yeah, but those were weird Black Mesa things, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, not elaborating any more than that.

Gordon waited a beat for Tommy to explain more but he said all he needed to.

“I will ask you more about that later, but I do not have the energy to unpack all that right now,” Gordon said with a gentle laugh.

“Wait, getting back on topic real quick, why couldn’t Benrey just... respawn now? Did we really get him that good?”

Tommy looked incredibly sad when Gordon said this, and he regretted it immediately.  ‘Damn it Gordon, Tommy’s clearly upset about Benrey, you don’t gotta be an insensitive dick.’

“Well Mr. Freeman, that’s kinda why I’ve been thinking about him,” Tommy said, “I’m not sure. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to respawn. Depending on the amount of damage it takes longer but… It’s been a while and what if- What if he is back but he is mad at all of us and that’s why we haven’t seen him? Or what if it is taking a really long time because we hurt him a whole lot. Or what if we…”

Tommy got quiet for a few seconds, the silence in the room was deafening. For an instance Gordon felt as if making a sound would shatter the air like glass.

Tommy finally said with a whisper, voice thick with choking back tears, “What if we killed him for good? And I don’t- I never see him again?”

It honestly broke Gordon’s heart how distraught Tommy was. Pushing his own complicated Benrey feelings aside, he was gonna focus on Tommy here and now.

“…Tommy, is it ok if I hug you, man?” Gordon couldn’t think of the best way to comfort the other man with words, but physical comfort he could do.

Tommy looked a little surprised at this ask but nodded. Gordon leaned in to hug the other scientist and Tommy collapsed in his embrace, completely breaking down.

Gordon just sat there and held him as Tommy sobbed into his shoulder, trying to comfort the crying man by rubbing circles into his back.

Gordon’s brain processed the things Tommy had said. Was Benrey really gone? Why did he feel guilty about the idea of having killed Benrey, he was fine with the concept during the final boss fight on Xen but now… the thought made him feel… sad? Regretful? Even his seemingly rational justifications didn’t seem as clear at the moment, only thinking of his fonder memories with Benrey.

‘Fuck this,’ he thought as he felt his own tears well up, ‘this isn’t about me, I need to focus on being there for Tommy,’ pushing his own feelings to the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

Tommy eventually calmed down enough where his sobs turned into sniffles, and he started to pull away from the hug.

“S – sorry for having a – a breakdown on your- on your couch Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, the post-crying mental fog making his stuttering more noticeable. Tommy didn’t really have the effort in him to care.

“Don’t worry about it, man, after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental breakdowns,” Gordon joked trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, that was nothing, Mr. Freeman, in terms of mental breakdowns that was as mild as a first-grade pizza party in the eye of a hurricane,” Tommy compared in a way that made little sense to Gordon, yet ridiculous enough to cause the man to burst out laughing.

“Alright I’ll take your word for it,” Gordon said, still laughing.

“I’m serious Mr. Freeman, once you have a meltdown so intense that you accidentally teleport yourself to an inter-dimensional void, the rest is a cake walk at the school fair,” Tommy said.

“Waitwaitwait- teleport?” he leaned back to look at him in surprise, “Since when could you fuckin teleport!” Gordon asked caught off guard.

“You know, learned some things from my Dad,” Tommy said, again failing to further explain himself.

“…Well alright. Yeah that tracks.”

Gordon was quiet for a moment before responding with, “You know, Tommy, I want you to know I’m here for you if you need anyone to talk to. You were there for me when I was at my lowest in Black Mesa, and I wanna be that friend to you if you need it,” he said giving the other scientists hand a comforting squeeze.

Tommy smiled, “Thank you, that means a lot Mr. Freeman.”

“You know you can call me Gordon, you don’t have to be so formal all the time Dr. Coolatta,” he teased.

Tommy blushed, ‘dammit why did he have to be so cute?’

“Wow Mr. Fr – Gordon are you really gonna make fun of my doctorate that I worked very hard for,” Tommy teased back, still a bit sniffly from crying.

“Dude, I cannot imagine you in college for some reason, what was your doctorate even in” asked Gordon, semi-jokingly, but still a bit serious.

Tommy laughed a bit, wiping the remaining tears away with the back of his hand. “Bio-chemical engineering. Creating Sunkist was for my thesis project.” Normally Tommy would be more then willing to infodump about the topic but he found his energy to be draining fast.

“What the fuck, that’s cooler than mine was. Us nerds in the Theoretical Physics department didn’t do any crazy shit like that,” Gordon said.

“Bold of you to assume I was a nerd, G-Gordon. I was the craziest guy in the frat house,” Tommy said.

Gordon’s memory vaguely recalls Tommy’s insistence that he “do something crazy” when drinking Darnold’s Potion of Grow Gun Arm.

“You know what, yeah, surprisingly I can see that image vividly in my head,” Gordon said. “Real talk though…” he said changing the subject and putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Are you- uh, ok? Like feeling better?”

Tommy was quiet for a second, eyes flickering down to look at his fidgeting hands in his lap, before replying with, “I’m ok. N-not great, I don’t think, but I will be.”

Gordon nodded. “Tommy, if there’s one nugget of wisdom that I have to share, it’s that healing takes time, things usually turn out to be ok in the end. No matter what’s going on with Benrey…it'll be alright, I’m sure.” Gordon patted his shoulder for emphasis, “not the best advice out there but it’s the best I can come up with straight off the dome. And I don’t wanna seem like I didn’t try to help you out."

Tommy laughed gently, “Thank you Mr. Fr- uh, thank you Gordon. You did help. Even if- if your advice was a bit cheesy.”

“Whatever man, you can’t blame me for trying,” Gordon laughed, playfully shoving Tommy where his hand had previously rested on the other man’s shoulder. Tommy laughed in return. He only noticed the warmth of Gordon’s touch once it was gone.

Tommy absentmindedly noticed the time on the wall clock in Gordon’s apartment. Jesus, 11:30? When did it get so late? The older scientist really hoped he wasn’t overstaying his welcome; While he would love to just stay here and joke around, he had already bothered Mr. Freeman enough and was already exhausted.

“I- I’m probably gonna head back home now, I didn’t realize how late it was,” Tommy said, standing up from his spot next to Gordon.

Gordon nodded. He had the passing thought of offering for Tommy to stay but… maybe that was a step too far. ‘Tommy probably wants his space,’ Gordon rationalized to himself.

He nodded, “Alright, don’t let me keep you,” he said, getting up as well to help Tommy gather his belongings. Which, to be honest Tommy didn’t bring much but some snacks for the group, but Gordon just needed an excuse to do anything.

Gordon walked Tommy to the front door of his apartment, like the good host he was, opening the door for him.

“Thanks for coming over Tommy,” he said.

Tommy nodded. “Thank- thank you again for letting me talk about Benrey, I know it was kinda rough there at the end, but if you ever need to talk about anything… I'm here for you as well.”

Gordon smiled, “Thank you Tommy, I'll keep that in mind.”

Tommy smiled in return, “Have a good night G-Gordon,” he said turning to head to his car.

“Goodnight Tommy.” Gordon turns to head back inside, but before he does, he can’t resist one more jab.

“Thought you could teleport?” he calls out teasingly.

Tommy flips him off, which causes Gordon to laugh harder. “Gives me a headache,” Tommy called back, trying and failing keep a straight face.

Gordon laughs as he waves a final goodbye, turning back inside and closing the door after Tommy waves as well. His thoughts race as he gets ready for bed, trying to ignore his fluttering heartbeat as he lays down for the night.

Tommy shuffles his thoughts in his head as he drives home. The emotional rollercoaster of his already draining social interaction meter from the science team, his Benrey guilt, and his small crush on Gordon was just too much for one day. His hands clench and unclench the steering wheel, looking forward to collapsing in bed for the night, hoping his dad won’t notice he'd been crying.

Somewhere, in an interdimensional void far away from this reality, someone begins to shift awake.

[reformedkingsmanagent]

{Batter Up} 1/?

(yes I know this is NOT Charlie and I’m so sorry for that but my pre-endgame jitters mean my old hyperfixation with cap is back in full force so I’m sorry!! Also I won’t post spoilers, so don’t worry about that. I’m sticking firmly with my pre-endgame thoughts. obviously though after 12:30am EST on Saturday, feel free to MESSAGE ME YOUR EVERY THOUGHT ABOUT IT.) alright, well...I hope you like it, at least a little bit. let’s see how far my current momentum takes me with this (and thanks @missredherring for the idea).

***

“You need a distraction. I’ve never seen you this self-destructive, Steve. You’re going.” “Don’t you think there’s more important things I should be doing?” “I don’t see you doing them.”

***

“Does anyone have any questions? No? Alright then, let’s get back to it.”

Noise filled the room as everyone got situated, focused on the task at hand.

All Steve saw was an empty canvas. It sat there, waiting on the easel, just to spite him. “Whose dumb idea was this,” he sighed to himself, getting up off the stool. His intentional lack of progress was starting to become obvious to everyone else. Heaven help whoever decided to ask him about it.

No. Relax. Otherwise you’ve wasted your time here.

He knew it wasn’t dumb, there was great benefit in creatively expressing grief and other strong emotions, but it felt wrong to be here while everyone else sat in a void somewhere, out of reach. What would he tell Bucky when he brought him back?

‘Hey, sorry I took so long, I decided to join a therapy group where we paint our feelings. Thanks for being so patient.’

If. If he brought him back.

“Tell me what this division means. Why is it so stark in comparison to everything else?”

The small woman studied the canvas beside Steve, listening in great detail to his neighbor’s explanation.

“...it’s all about balance, like how everything ended up split right down the middle…”

Balance. Balance. Balance. Oh God—

Steve didn’t notice he was making a fist until the brush snapped like a twig in his hand. He didn’t even remember picking it up.

The group leader laid a gentle hand on his neighbor’s shoulder, trying to urge him back to his canvas so he wasn’t openly gawking at Steve’s reaction.

“Mr. Rogers, I seem to remember you working on the same blank canvas last week.”

Steve bit back his impulsive response. How could she know how little he wanted to be here? How it felt to be tossed aside by the very monster who did this, who made this group necessary? To be borderline complicit in the sudden disappearance of 50% of the world’s population?

“What emotion is prevailing today?” She could read it in his face.

“Anger.” He bit the inside of his cheek. Self-loathing.

“What’s a color you associate with anger? You can start there. Just get something out of there.” She tapped the side of her head.

She sighed as he failed to answer, retreating to a cabinet behind him. “For me, it’s red. Wrath. Fury. Blood. That’s obvious. For you, though…” She returned, two tubes of paint in hand. She held them out to him, waiting for his reaction. “I’d imagine it’s a bit different.”

Red and blue. Colors he usually thought of fondly. But together…

He took them hesitantly, setting them on the counter beside him, but not eager to pick up another brush.

“I think if you stopped fighting for once, you’d make some real progress.” She held a new brush out to him, her other hand open, waiting for him to give up the brush he’d snapped in two.

With a deep, meditative breath, he gently set the broken handle into her hand and took the new brush. He spent a good amount of time looking down at it, both ashamed at his lack of control but also still feeling a bit defiant.

What would Tony say about his recent behavior? Would he ever see him again? Would he ever see any of them again?

His friends.

The instructor walked away, hands fiddling with the broken brush as she observed everyone else’s work.

“Can I borrow the blue?”

The voice that interrupted his thoughts was full of hesitation.

As Steve turned to look at the person standing to his left, he saw your eyes go a bit wide. “Only if you’re not using it…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shame washing over him. What kind of unhinged mess was he that he frightened people just by looking at them?

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Here.” He held out the paint to you.

“It’s alright.”

He felt like he should say something more, but he didn’t know what else he could possibly talk about.

So he left it at that.

***

Could you have picked a worse time to try to talk to him?

No. No, you couldn’t have.

Of freaking course you’d waste yet another opportunity to actually carry on a conversation with one of The Avengers. Not that you were a fan, it all seemed so reckless, really, but seeing him in the flesh…

It was a bit of a let-down.

No, really, it was. He looked as defeated as he probably felt, considering everything that’s happened. It’s a wonder he even went out anymore, and to your therapy group, no less.

Though after this session you didn’t think you’d see him back next week.

As you returned your attention to your own mixed emotions smeared across the canvas, you uncapped the blue, pushing some of the paint out onto the palette.

“What does it mean?”

You didn’t realize he’d stepped in behind you. You did your best to disguise your surprise before turning slightly so you could see him out of the corner of your eye. He was quite tall.

He asked you a question.

You could hardly rationalize it to yourself, let alone to someone else. “I’m not exactly sure,” you confessed. “I might’ve started with an idea, but I’m pretty sure I forgot it at some point.” Your canvas was currently a swirl of all sorts of colors, but the center was dark.

Pretty representative of your current state. Nice and bright on the outside, but inside... it was all too much.

“I’m not usually one for abstract pieces, but…”

But?!

“It feels like a place I don’t want to go.”

You frowned, turning to look up at him. You wished you hadn’t. The full weight of his attention was on you and you were now acutely aware of it. His eyes were very blue. “I’m not sure if that’s a critique or a compliment.”

“Is it possible to mean both?” There was almost a fraction of a smile in his eyes, though not in the rest of his face. You got a feeling that the usual Steve Rogers was much more easy-going than this.

“Well it’s got to at least be marginally better than the blank space over there,” you shrugged, gesturing towards his still-blank canvas.

“I’m working on it.”

“Right.” You raised an eyebrow, a smile spreading across your face. “Thank you.” You held out the tube to him, watching him carefully as he reached for it. He was gentle and slow, possibly aware of his imposing presence. As he returned to his seat on the stool you swore you saw the corner of his mouth lift a little.

Don’t.

A few seconds later he stood, heading over to his canvas. You resisted smiling as much as you could as he finally started getting his colors together.

It wasn’t because of you. It has nothing to do with you.

***

He cut in with sketchy black lines, getting something close to a plan on the canvas before he started adding color. He was at a loss of what to paint until you informed him that even you didn’t know. It was all about what he was feeling.

All he wanted was to go back, before everything.

Where would the world be if Steven Grant Rogers from Brooklyn hadn’t taken the serum? Possibly better off? It was easy to argue that now. But he knew if he said as much, there would be plenty of people eager to tell him no. He was never one to sit on the sidelines, either. And despite recent events, there were a lot of other people he’d been able to help.

As hard as it was to be here, he needed to be.

***

“Alright everyone, this was an illuminating hour, why don’t we pick this up next week?”

There was a wave of shuffling, chairs moving, people passing through the center of the room to reach the door. Steve picked up his canvas and moved to the back of the room to lean it up against some of the cabinets, out of the way.

As he went back for his bag, he met you halfway, still hesitant to reach out, but feeling emboldened by his sudden bit of—

“Progress?” you asked, an eyebrow raised as you also headed back to store your canvas. Steve waited for you in between some of the tables.

“Progress,” he conceded, picking at the paint dried on his hands. He looked up in time to see you tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. He realized with a jolt the kind of warm, nervous state he was in. He hadn’t felt like this since—

“Do you feel any better now that you’ve started?”

“I do, actually.”

He fell in step beside you as you returned to gather your things.

“So you’ll be back next week?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he joked, smiling slightly as he followed you to the door. He realized he didn’t have anywhere to go, or at least didn’t have any immediate plans. He felt like if he went back now, he’d lose any progress he made. He couldn’t blame everyone, it was a grave defeat, one he wasn’t sure they’d be able to recover from. He wanted to enjoy this lighter feeling for a little longer.

“It does help, at least a little bit. It’s better than doing nothing and not acknowledging it. At least for me it is.”

“It has its benefits,” he agreed.

He picked up his pace just a little to reach the door first, holding it open for you as you passed through it and into the chilly night air.

He shook his head as you thanked him. “No need.”

***

It took you a moment to realize he was following you. Not following exactly, but letting you dictate where the two of you were going.

He didn’t want to go home, you realized.

“I think I’m gonna stop for a coffee. Do you want to…?”

He watched you point to the door. Realization dawned on him and he pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Sure, yeah, that would be great.”

You pulled the door open before he could get to it and stepped inside. His hand was high above you, keeping it open until he was standing behind you, eyes up towards the menu.

“What do you usually get?”

He smiled at himself. “Oh, I’m pretty boring. I haven’t experimented much, just a regular coffee for me, thank you.”

“What, they didn’t have frappuccinos in the forties?”

“Wow, we’ve been talking for all of five minutes and you’ve already found my deepest insecurities.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“So it’s safe to say you know who I am.” He avoided eye contact, you noticed, watching his eyes scan the board even though he wasn’t going to change his order.

“I don’t know you. I know the most superficial basics about Captain America, or at least what can be found at the exhibit in—”

“Don’t remind me.”

“What, you don’t visit your own exhibit? You’re practically a walking, talking fossil, you should be proud—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interrupted, his face lighting up. He looked a far cry from the moody, brooding artist back in that room.

You reached out in your laughter and laid a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down. Even through his worn leather jacket you could feel how warm he was.

“Why don’t you pick out a table that allows you to see all the corners, and I’ll go...order you your boring coffee?”

He heard the challenge and his amusement was clear, but he didn’t say anything else. With a nod, he left to find a place to sit. He also left you to stew in your nerves.

What the hell were you doing buying Captain America a coffee on a Tuesday night?

[sokumotanaka]

Last train home: An ode to Rwby

It’s over...it’s finally over.

Prepare for a long and tired final post.

Look, let me say this;

RWBY volume 6 is a mess and I think that's the most charitable thing I can say after spending several years of being invested in it’s crumbling world.

Maybe it was laziness, rushed or sheer incompetence that made this season crumble, so in my final review on rwby as a whole I may have to do some guess work at points; and after several wasted years, I’m not in a position from this point on to be charitable.

I gotta tell you, volume 6 tricked me, hell from what I seen it tricked alot of us, it started off good, we learned thing we should of learned volumes ago. But then I soon realized that this volume was; damage control. We learn of ozpin origins with salem only to not get to absorb it cause we soon learn through obvious reasons that maria was a silver eyed warrior and when ruby finally starts training, we meet one of jaune’s sisters, also pyrrha’s statue is there, but also neo is back, but so is adam and cinder, also mercury has no semblance, tyrian has a new tail-

see what I mean? before you could absorb one thing, two more pop up in its place and there’s such a lack in structure in the world, characters, their growth, development and their dimensions. The magic and power system that rwby has is just a mess that gets increasingly worse as it progresses, they take one step forward only to stumble several feet back and fall on their ass. And maybe one of the problem is I listen to writers commentary; to someone who doesn’t they won’t see as many problems as I do with the series, but when you actually listen to it you see the many problems it has with how this series is handled.

A reboot is at this point completely necessary and needed for this series to make even a semblance of sense. Semblance, Aura and Dust are so poorly handled and explained that they changed at several points to the point of being contrived.

Semblance was originally something you could use when your aura was completely depleted before requiring aura to use.

Except when it’s not but also when it can be, it changes at the drop of a hat, we see yang use her semblance with no aura in her vol 5 trailer, then sun in vol 4 loses his semblance when his aura is depleted.

despite miles changing it almost instantly afterwards...

When I started rwby I was optimistic it could be a great show probably not spectacular or amazing but great, and while it had it’s flaws and potholes at the time they were relatively small at first, but they just kept growing and more issues popped up and...christ if you like rwby and notice it’s flaws that’s fine, but I can’t say the same for people who outright ignore the flaws people critiquing the series bring up to get mad and preach about how only positive criticism can save the show.

Look as a person who started off with positive criticism I’m not saying it has no place, but you also can’t say critics be it negative from your perspective, is objectively bad or unneeded. Sometimes a firm but fair hand is needed.

Ruby’s issues are like a small flame building up, you can close your eyes and ignore the problem but sooner or later if something’s not done your house is gonna be completely on fire, and you don’t know how that may affect your surroundings, for all you know ignoring the issue caused the trees behind your house to catch fire, maybe one toppled over and landed on a neighboring house and now it’s spreading. The bottom line is weather you can get past the issue to find the things you like isn’t the problem, it’s ignoring them in the first place, if you aren’t willing to help something growth and change for the better with non rose tinted criticism then you’re not offering any help at all, you’re hindering it because you yourself refuse to change and that can be just as harmful if not worse to coddle something.

Rwby increasingly became more unhinged as a series, the flaws turned into overlapping problems, this went from a world that felt had love and care crafted into it to a plot and world with more holes than swiss cheese, which is why so many people felt disappointed and rightfully annoyed, could you sit there and tell me if I made a series and told you one thing yet showed you another only to tell you “yeah that’s not what I meant.” in post that you wouldn’t feel even the slightest bit of cheated, lied to or had your time wasted? If not do I have a camel to sell you among other things!

As a person who sat through so many lovely crafted media; I sat through paper mario and it’s whimsical tale, I watched avatar and fell in love with it’s amazing characters, world building and music, same goes for things like steven universe, final fantasy 6 (a game ironically about togetherness) ff9, the persona series, hunter x hunter, soul eater, gravity falls, Disney flicks, the dragon age series every super giant game, all these and more were handled with so much love and care and hold their structure throughout.

I.  LOVE. MEDIA.

I spend most of my time absorbed in their stories worlds and characters, laughing and crying and growing with them to the point I studied it, twice to get two separate degrees in it because I wanted to write at a time. So when I critique rwby, call out it’s flaws and so on, it’s not a personal attack on you if you like it, but I also can’t be satisfied with where the series has gone, not because it’s not ‘my’ take but because I enjoy narrative flow, I find interest in the characters if the plot isn’t too good and vise versa, media can touch on so many amazing things and I felt at a time...that miles and kerry could do well if they tried, if they applied themselves, before becoming such mean spirited, greedy and unwilling people, and this was long before I came into the picture, long before rwde no matter how much you disagree or what to place blame.

Cause trust me I seen rwby stans (fans unwilling to hear criticism out and will display many hypocritical and messed up tendencies over a cartoon)  not only ignore issues, tell people to kill themselves over a typed critique of a series they like, be irrational, sexist, racist or just plain stupid at times, you realize soon that the rwby tag is a cesspool of horrible people mixed in with a minuscule amount of fans willing to discuss the issues offer fixes and healthy non annoying chats on what they like and dislike.

Which confuses me as an individual cause I feel personally you can and should review rwby without threat of an anonymous person telling you to die over your opinion or one of the writers telling people to...enact physical violence on fans who don’t watch the supplemental material they hide, don’t promote to a casual audience and contradict and retcon on a constant basis. And sometimes it’s through a panel or a tweet, a casual rwby fan wouldn’t even catch unless they constantly follow the writers around or have someone dedicated enough to do so.

And all the stuff I mention and want isn’t impossible or asking too much honestly, I’d like the writers to be honest and fair to their fanbase, like anyone would, I’d like them to listen to actual critique and hire someone who can guide them so it doesn’t turn into one big “damage control” arc, The characters need more substance and need more screen time to grow as characters and fighters, when your fans excuse character growth with “Well animation is hard, not everything could be onscreen it could happen offscreen.” you have a problem, can you imagine ed just showing up with alphonse and it never being explained and I go “well animation is hard.” yeah that goes without saying but at the same time there are writers, creators and so on who get paid less, have smaller teams and sometimes just teams of two people to work hard on their craft, amazing teams with money, production and care like supergiant games get overlooked, so never EVER excuse jump cuts and lack of characterization, structure and development when better writers are out there busting their asses.

Do not be that guy.

*sigh* I been sitting here thinking how how I could end this, how after several years of a fast decline in quality, what’s something I could possibly leave this on? What can I say past this point? I been actually sitting in stunned silence trying to mull it over. I guess all I can say is, if you like rwby fair, fine, despite the major holes I discuss fixes with the series, I draw characters, try fixing the crumbling road of rwby trying hard to understand it, make no mistakes that when I critique it it’s not coming from a place of contempt for the series, but of disappointment in how far it’s fallen and how it could have been good if miles and kerry took the hand offered, it wouldn’t lead them down the most comfortable road, but they’d gain experience from it and could fix the series possibly for the better, and if you again like rwby, do not allow rose tinted goggles to blind you from the issues of the series, the ever growing problems with the series and the unwillingness for the writers to change and grow, do not allow more writers to turn into david cage, M Night Shyamalan, or stephenie meyer.

If you want the best for the rwby series and the rwby brand then you cannot accept mediocrity, you need to be vocal otherwise the writers won’t be incentivized to do better. And it doesn’t have to be straight up criticism, you can word it your way as long as it helps the writing grow, but at the point we’re at and how nice or not miles and kerry take current criticism rwby will continue to plummet and honestly that’s a disappointment.

To all fellow rwde and non rwde who have supported me thus far? Thank you, this has been a wild ride and while we possibly haven’t seen eye to eye I enjoyed and learn alot from watching you over the years, and now I think it’s finally time for the vet to retire and give the reins to new people, I received alot of kind messages from this and they touched my heart, take care rwby critics, it’s been real.

-A past fan of rwby

[airbuilder7]

A year of weight loss: December 2016 to December 2017

I’m very pleased to say I’ve lost 22 pounds (172 to 150) from this date one year ago. Thoughts and graphs below the break.

Just after Thanksgiving 2016 was the tipping point. Family photos were going up during the week, and I was dissatisfied with how my stomach was visibly round under my shirt. 

There wasn’t an epiphanic ping of realization; it was more of a longstanding, growing dissatisfaction and grim determination settling in. However I was feeling, I was simply not going to accept it any longer. It felt like there was a slab or blob on my midriff that didn’t belong there, and I was worried that if I let it sit there too long I would adapt to that feeling as normal and baseline.  

I weighed myself for the first time in a while on December 1st, 2016, and was jolted to see I was above 170 (172, specifically). A few weeks later I bought my fourth Fitbit (a Charge 2) in a Verizon deal when my old cellphone died. I bought a Fitbit Aria scale to go with it a few weeks into 2017 because there was a New Year’s deal.  

As an engineer, it was fortifying to get information on what was happening, and see the numbers go up and down, and see a cause and effect between calories in, calories out, and weight. It also helped that my body and I could remember being at my goal weight in the 150s in May 2014, during college when I rode my bike every day and did karate three to four times a week.  Then I started my job in November 2014 and began sitting eight hours a day. 

Since it’s an engineer’s job, essentially, to obsess over numbers and trends, and having Asperger’s intensifies obsessions, I knew going in that I would have to carefully monitor my obsession over this particular set of numbers, at risk of unhealthy consequences. I’ve found myself at times staring intently, for minutes, at the trendlines on the graphs and the progression of the numbers. What I didn’t expect was the excited, vaguely-unhinged, highly persuasive voice that would remark, with all the inflection of a great idea (since it’s my voice), “You know what would make the graph change even faster! Not eating!” And I would go “Whoa buddy” and explain why that was an absurd, unsustainable idea, because thermodynamics. But I might have had a problem if I wasn’t already on alert about Staring At The Numbers, and if I hadn’t already read about the sorts of thoughts that other friends have had. Because, it’s your voice.

  Other miscellaneous observations: 

My exercise increased somewhat. I began doing Kempo in September 2016, after a two-year break from doing Tang Soo Do karate at Virginia Tech. I went/go to kempo two or three times a week, on Monday or Tuesday and Thursday. I added in rock climbing and yoga at Earth Treks with some consistency on Wednesdays and Sundays. And every now and then, if I don’t feel like climbing, I run for half an hour (~5k ) on a treadmill. The key was adding in an activity on Wednesdays/weekends in addition to kempo. The Monday/Tuesday flip-flop flexibility of kempo classes and self-driven aspect of climbing and yoga attendance gives me rearrange room for social activities during the week. 

It all really started with four chicken fingers in January. I’m a picky eater. I’m not about that quinoa. I usually had seven, but after staring at the serving size and my Fitbit’s calorie meter, I was like “But what if I only have four?” The immediate counter-reaction was “But what if you’re still hungry??!” And the counter-counter was, “Well, then we make some more, duh.” So I had four chicken fingers. They looked miserably few on a plate, so I slid them to a small teacup plate. I ate, and stared at where the chicken fingers used to be. I had some tea, and some water, and waited. I felt hungry, and then gradually not-hungry, and went about my evening. I had less post-meal sluggishness. So I proved to myself that four chicken fingers, versus seven, was survivable. My next step was to go from two peanut butter & jelly sandwiches for lunch to just one. Given how calorie-dense modern food is, you tend to need less than you expect.  

I did not think in terms of “diet” because a diet feels like a temporary restriction you endure to meet a short-term goal. This is more of a wholesale readjustment of expectations for wants and needs.

I bought a food scale to measure how much peanut butter and jelly I was putting on my sandwiches. Because a) I really am that neurotic of an engineer and b) to make good decisions, you need good data. I don’t limit myself to a specific amount in the moment when using the scale. I’m gonna enjoy my damn sandwich. But knowing how much I’m actually eating is helpful in gauging afternoon snacking or spotting long-term trends.     

I do not and cannot recommend this as any sort of plan, but I had colds during the first and third weeks of January 2017. (See labels.) Coupled with day-by-day tracking on my scale, this proved to me at the very beginning that my weight could change, and rather than let my weight pop back up into the 170s, I recovered from the colds without regaining the weight I lost. I think I was able to do this because my body used already-excess fat cells for fuel. If I had been at a static weight at the time, I would have wanted to make a V on the graph.     - Setting a mid-course goal of 160 was instrumental. It was a basecamp that allowed me to develop and monitor habits and check in on how I was doing, while not feeling like I was “only halfway there,” (whooaaa, livin' on a prayer). I met a good goal in its own right (12 pounds!). If I'd dragged myself to reach 160, that would have indicated a correction was needed. But if I met 160 and felt like I was on a sustainable course, I could keep the momentum going to 150. That increment also felt achievable, because all the ads say “lose 10 pounds in 2 weeks!” And I certainly wasn’t planning to do this in two weeks.

A consistent way of weighing yourself is critical, because otherwise you might lose your mind. I weigh myself each morning after using the loo but before drinking any water; water is eight pounds a gallon, and two glasses (16 oz) is a pound. This gives me an artificially low weight for the day, but it’s consistently low. If you’re inconsistent with the order of things, you’ll wonder why you’re not losing much weight. It’s actually fascinating to see on the graph: on weekends my weight seems to drop. Why? Even though I might be out partying and drinking later on Friday and Saturday nights, I also sleep in later on Saturday and Sunday mornings. The extra sleep time means more natural dehydration, which results in lower weight. Be sure to hydrate fully once you have your measurement!  

Your body will happily gain two pounds over a day or two, but then require a week and a half to lose it. This makes sense, because in the first 50,000 years or so of human existence, weight loss was an emergency situation. Breaking even was a hunter-gathering caloric victory, and not feeling hungry for a week was a rare, glorious occasion reserved once or twice a year for festivals. 

This then requires an odd sort of balancing act, because you have to stress your body enough (through exercise and fewer calories) that it digs into its own reserves when you need energy, and you essentially eat yourself alive. But if you put too much stress on the system, it goes into BREAK GLASS mode and restricts your metabolism to conserve resources and ride out a starve. You have to surreptitiously edge away at your fat-cell count while keeping your body in a LALALALA EVERYTHING’S FINE mode. Enough sleep helps with that.

To stave off the AAAHHHHHHH and maintain sustainability: discomfort is ok, misery is not.

To help with this, I devised the Tea Test: if you’re feeling hungry around 9:30 or 10 in the morning, or around 2:30 in the afternoon, have a cup of tea and busy yourself with something. If you poke your head up an hour or so later from your work, that hunger was probably just a habit-signal and discomfort that you can ride through. But if 20 to 30 minutes later you find yourself hungry again, or unable to concentrate, or irritable, then you actually are hungry and need energy. Have something to eat you dumbass, for heaven’s sake.

The Fitbit's calorie deficit amount may require tinkering to your own situation, depending on your discomfort/misery ratio and goal progress. I initially started out at a -500 calorie deficit for a day, and bumped it to -750 in May when progress stalled. My nominal -500 deficit was likely closer to -250 or so, taking into account calories and activities that aren't countable. I also recently learned that nutrition labels are allowed to be off by 20%! Increasing to -750 nominally probably gets me to -500 actual when all is thermodynamically said and done.  

The multi-year picture of my weight record is a fascinating look at a) Fitbit’s increasing quality control and b) my need to see numbers for progress versus internal intuition, apart from the peaks. (Those peaks felt like the float switch in a toilet reaching its limit: “OK, that’s enough!”)  My first two Fitbits died on their own. I regularly wore my first one in the shower, just like my sport watch. Fitbit’s 2014-2015-era ad material promoted wearing the Charge 1 in the shower. They’ve since removed that claim. I take my current Charge 2 off when I go swimming or use the shower, which perhaps explains its current longevity. My third Fitbit died when I forgot to do this and jumped from our sailboat into the Bay on a hot summer afternoon.

More worrisome (?) is the way my numbers pop up when I’m away from my scale or can’t monitor intake with a barcode. I had hoped by this point I would be able to realize, “ah, that’s enough” for a meal or a day after a year of readjustment. This is not the case, as evident by the way the graph pops up after visits home or during the current holiday-party season. 

[metalmusingmoments]

I read your scenario about TFP Knockout, Smokescreen, & Optimus Prime realizing their feelings for potential human s/o. If it's ok with you, would you mind a continuation? If not, said human crush likes them back but never confessed before so they try to figure how to confess properly. The mechs accidentally heard them say to themselves " I'll just say I love you romantically, (said mech name)!". They're confident until they realizes the mechs were behind them. The mechs' reaction to this?

I’m going to post thesein different replies so be on the lookout for the other two. Optimus goes firstbecause we all love our boss bot. I’m putting a spin on this one because I can’tsee the reader being caught like that. Not in front of OP at least. Here’s thefirst part of the story so you can refresh your minds. And because it is 3amand I want to get this out there, it’s a cliffhanger. Sorry not sorry ;)

TFP Optimus

You met team prime after you noticed Raf, one of your smarteststudents was missing more and more class. You had followed him out to the curbone day after school where he waited for his ride to pick him up. You tried tomake conversation but he was becoming more and more nervous as time ticked by.The real reason you were out here was because you were hoping to snag a momentto talk to his mother or father about his increasing absences. When a yellowCamaro pulled up with tinted windows and no driver you weren’t letting Raf getin concern for his safety. Long story short Raf and “Bumblebee” managed to getyou into the car and soon conned you into being an after school teacher for himand two other students. Base life was easy enough, the bots came and went onmissions and you got along well with Ratchet and the Autobot leader Optimus.You pretty much became “Den Mother y/n”. You would make snacks and meals forthe kids and pick up anything that could possibly help the bots. You did mostof this without being asked and not expecting any thanks. But of course as youwent about your business someone was watching you from afar.

After a long Saturday sessionof tutoring the kids he decided that would be a good time to approach you. Thekids had already taken their snacks and moved on to play their video games outof ear shot. You were leaned back in a chair both arms over your face in anuncomfortable position. When he called out to you you startled awake.Apologizing, he asked if you were ready to return home for the day. He watchedas you looked back at the kids, frowned and then said you were ready to go.When you started making your way to Bumblebee, he stopped you and told you he wouldbe driving you home today. Your face morphed into one of concern as hetransformed and popped open his passenger door. As you both barreled throughthe desert he began to express his gratitude for what you had been doing forthe kids and his team. When you finished he noticed your face had grown into asmile that stopped his spark for a second. You told him not to worry about itand that you didn’t mind doing the small things. They know he works hard andthat he shouldn’t have to worry about everything. As he pulled up to your homeyou didn’t reach for the door and he didn’t move to open it. You awkwardlymentioned how nice it was outside and he took the hint. He started up hisengine and was on the move again. With no destination in mind he moved alongthe outskirts of the town. He would keep his new feelings to himself. Hewouldn’t risk this new budding relationship.

Continued…

 Months have gone by since you began your after school tutorsessions with the kids. So many months in fact that now it’s the last daybefore school is out and summer begins. You’re sitting at your desk now supposedlybeing on the lookout for anyone who may be cheating on their final exams. You can’thelp but zone out as the silence in the room gives you time to think. The otherteachers had been gushing in the faculty room about their vacationsout of this hell hole, too far away paradises with less desert. As they hadprattled on the gnawing feeling of anxiety settled into the pit of your stomachagain. With summer starting the kids wouldn’t be needing a tutor anymore, or atleast till the school year started up again. So when Kathy, a fellow teacherasked what your plans were for vacation you came up with the lame excuse of visitingyour parent’s home in “___”. The loud ringing of the last bell cut off yourthoughts as students lined up to hand in their exams. One by one the studentshanded off their papers to you at the door until none were left and you were surroundedby the droning noise of kids out in the hall.  Truth be told you were waiting for someone, anyone among “Team Prime”, to ask youabout your summer plans. Fishing to drop the sad bomb of “nothing” with a nonchalantair about yourself. Pitiful. You thought to yourself as you shuffled the papersand let out an exasperated sigh as you flopped into your chair. If you werebeing really honest with yourself, you were more miffed that Optimus hadn’t askedwhat your plans were. Though as soon as the thought entered your head youquickly pushed it out. Optimus had more important things to worry about then your sadexcuse for a summer. Like a civil war.

You and he had become closer over the past months. Ever sincehe took it upon himself to drive you home that one day it had become a happy ritualafter almost every tutoring lesson. But of course that had come after theattempts to stay at the base longer after the lessons ended. In the beginning youtwo would only discuss in a casual manner. How the kids were doing in school,how the war effort was progressing, theweather. Though as time moved on so did both of you, and the effects of thebattles Optimus fought began to show more than ever. Throwing caution to thewind you had asked him how he was feeling, as himself and not as the leader of the Autobots. He had stared at youfor a long time after you asked that. Probably weighing if it was even worth tellingyou at all, but in the end he did. So much pain and grief was unloaded thenthat your head had trouble wrapping around just how he or any being could keepthis to themselves. When he finished he had apologized, an annoying trait youhad come to realize was a habit of his. You waved him off saying it was fineand that if he ever needed to talk, you would be there for him. He had agreed tothose terms only if you would speak to him in the same manner. You knew there wasn’tmuch you could do in a sense of actually “helping” Optimus defeat the Decepticons,but if you could help him stand a little straighter, so the weight of the worldwasn’t crushing him, you’d do it in a heartbeat. You’d also found out in thisshort amount of time that Optimus had a somewhat dorkish sense of charm to him.In the rare occasion that he did make a joke you always laughed, and thatseemed to make his optics brighten slightly. Speaking of his optics, you letout a shuddering breath. He always seemed to be watching you. Just blatant staring or side eyeing you. You weren’tsure why, but you could never turn to meet his stare because you were afraidwhat he might see. You had contemplated trying to amp up the flirtatiousbehavior between you to, but chickened out at the last minute when the opportunitywould arise. A thought came to you just then. A bold thought. To just tell him how you felt. What did you have tolose? You and the kids had planned a small end of the year party tonight at thebase, you could tell him then. And if you made a fool of yourself, you couldjust hide away for the rest of the summer.

“Perfect” You said aloud as you placed the exams into yourbag. Now just to figure out how you were going to do this.

“Hey Optimus, I’d like to get to know you better” No.

“Hey BossBot! You and I should spend some more time alone moreoften” Definitely Not.

“Optimus, I like you more than just a friend”

“Who do you like more than just a friend?!” came thetelltale shout of Miko in the doorway giving you a minor heart attack in theprocess.

“What?” You gasped with your hand to your chest in startledpanic.

“You were talking about how you like someone more than afriend!” she exclaimed slamming her hands on the desk. “You gotta tell me Ms/Mr.(Y/N)! I can keep a secret!” she grinned over at you. And as much as you lovedMiko, you knew that was horse shit. Composingyourself you raised up out of your seat grabbing your bag.

“I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about Miko. You musthave misheard me.” You clipped in your “teachers” voice. Which only made Mikosquint her eyes and pout.

“Whatever” She threw her hand out as if brushing it away. “Justhurry up! Bulkhead is picking us up today, we’re gonna listen to all of my favorite songs!” she saidgrinning wickedly.

All you could do was cringe at the thought of the hour long journeyahead of you as you shut off the light and closed the door behind the both ofyou.

A dual ache had settled in your head as the night droned on.The drive had been more than excruciating. Between the loud music and the constantbickering between Miko and Jack, the whole ride had been painful. Now you satwith your head hanging and arms dangling over the railing of the upper level.The loud metal music still blaring in a far corner of the room was not helpingeither. The night had not been going as you planned.

“Are you alright (Y/N)?” The rumbling baritone voice thatalways seemed to shake you to its core asked. You gripped the railing andwhipped your head up so quick you thought you may have given yourself whiplash.

“Optimus!” you exclaimed face turning red at earlierthoughts. “No! I’m fine really, ride here was just a little more unhinged themI’m use to” you said smiling up at him.

He gave a rumbled “mmm” of his acknowledgment, followed bysilence and that unnerving stare. Then continued on with “Now that the children’seducation is finished for the year, I would assume your lessons are no longerneeded”.

Ouch, you thought and it must have registered on your facebecause Optimus was now backpedaling on his words. Hard.

“I meant no offense” He hurried on, “I only meant that youwill now have more free time to endeavor in your hobbies”.

Double Ouch. If it didn’t feel like you were being kickedout before, it did now. And now the pieces of your haphazard plan werecrumbling before you. The internal battle you were having on whether or not totrudge on or bail out were flipping back and forth in your mind. And the blueglow of his optics boring into you were not helping.

“(Y/N)” He said letting out a long vent. Just the way he said your name made the decision.

Fuck it. You saidto yourself and stared into his eyes straight on.

“Optimus, I think we-“ and was abruptly cut off by Mikosscreech of lyrics.

“SCHOOLS OUT FOR SUMMER” She sang and threw, what had to be,every piece of homework and schoolwork she had in yours and Optimus direction.

 Asit rained down over you and over the balcony you let out a long sigh and closedyour eyes trying to rein in your frustration.  In the distance you could hear the raspy yellfrom Ratchet about the mess and Miko’s gleeful laughter. It was then youdecided that this was fates way of saying this was a horrible idea.

“What was that (Y/N)? Optimus had broken eye contact toobserve all the papers flying with a straight face.

“I think I should go home” You muttered placing a hand overyour face and moving to grab your jacket. You could hear his foot fallsfollowing you as you went.

“Then I will take-“But you cut him off with a wave of yourhand as you shrugged on the jacket.

“It’s alright” you breathed as you placed your bag on yourshoulder. “I’ll ask Ratchet. God knows he needs to get out of here before heblows a fuse” you said laughing a hollow chuckle as you made your way down theladder, and with one last look you met Optimus’s optics

“See you around Optimus” you smiled a smile that you knew didn’treach your eyes. And with those last words you turned on your heal and walked briskly in the direction of Ratchet. All while those blue optics seared into yourback.