#wish me a very able to sit up in bed for more than 2 hours tomorrow

[natandacat]

Head still hurts its been 2 days.... wtf

[pipwritesoccasionally]

midnight emotions (two little lines pt. 2)

in which your stepson has a bad dream and you feel guilty.

this one has less to do with your pregnancy but it is still relevant!

toji x reader (same stuff from last time applies, technically AFAB because of pregnancy but it's also a world with sorcery so I am not here to stop AMAB people. kept it pretty gender neutral, but let me know if it doesn't seem like it.)

wc: 850

pt. 1 pt.3

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the darkness floods your eyes as you blink awake for the second time that night. body aching, you roll over, feet fluffing the carpet of you and toji’s bedroom. your arms reach up, exposing your growing stomach to the cold air. 

as you stand, the bed creaks, and you hear your husband groan. 

“doll?” his voice is low from sleep, and you place your hand on his arm. 

“i’m good. i just have to pee.” 

“again? you went two hours ago,��� you’d never think that toji could be so whiny, but it sure was a very cute surprise. 

“babe, a whole human is growing next to my bladder. i’m going to be peeing all the time for the next few months,” you chuckle, and you hear him roll over on the bed. 

“fine. see you soon.” 

with that, you begin your walk to the bathroom, able to navigate the dark hallways perfectly after following this routine for weeks. after doing your business, you walk back down the hall, but this time you find that it’s much easier. 

in fact, there’s a light on in one of the bedrooms, which you quickly discern to be megumi’s. you knock, hearing a little “come in” on the other side. 

“megumi? what are you doing up?” you whisper, seeing him sitting up in bed. he furiously rubs his hands with his face, and the sight brings tears to your eyes. 

“i…had a bad dream.” he says, his little voice full of sadness. you move to kneel next to his bed, hoping to reassure him. 

“what happened? you can talk to me about it, if you want. or i can get your dad if you’d prefer.” he shakes his head, but still seems to hesitate. 

“dad’s not going to…leave us, will he?” worry strikes through you. 

“never. what would make you think that?”

“i don’t know, i guess i just wish we could see him more. he’s always pretty busy and only comes home for dinner.” another tear falls down his little face, and you can feel one mirror on your own. curse your hormones. 

“he’s busy, yes, but it’s because he’s trying to provide for you as best as he can. he just wants you to be happy,” megumi nods, but you can see that there’s still something on his mind. 

“it’s just that…when the baby comes, will he still have time for us?” your heart brakes at his statement, guilt shattering you. 

“of course he will. i promise you that he will always have time for you. he can be gruff, but he loves you.” 

“pinky promise?” he holds his little pinky out, and you immediately hook your much larger one around it. 

“pinky promise. now go back to bed. if you’re tired in the morning, let me know and i’ll call you out of school.” he nods, and you walk to the door, turning his light off. 

“sleep tight kiddo.” the door closes with a soft click!, and you immediately head back to your shared bedroom. your face feels wet, and you realize belatedly that you’d been crying. 

the bed is comforting, but you feel your breaths come out shakily. 

“doll? what’s wrong?” you jump, not realizing your husband’s still awake, and scoot in closer. 

“megumi’s worried that you won’t have time for him once the baby comes, and i feel so guilty. i didn’t even think about how this would affect them.” you’re hiccuping now, and his large hand comes to rest on your back. 

“you didn’t do anything wrong, i should be here more for them.” he whispers, and you shake your head. 

“no, you’re just doing what you can to help us.” he sighs, and you place your head on his chest. 

“yeah, but maybe it’s not enough. i’ll try to cut back on how many jobs i take weekly so i can be here more. we make more than enough money between the two of us anyways.” 

you hum, remembering exactly why you fell in love with him all those years ago. he isn’t exactly the most open person, but he does love his kids in his own way. 

“you need to stop being so cute. this isn’t good for my blood pressure,” he snorts, squeezing you lightly. 

“cute, huh? never thought someone would call me cute,” you laugh at him, wrapping your arms around his body. 

“why wouldn’t they? you just ooze cuteness, from your thick biceps and rippling abs-” 

“i’m starting to think you might be in love with me.” you can just hear the grin in his voice, and you move to roll away before one of his strong arms stops you. 

“ah-ah,” he tuts, “need my doll next to me so i can protect her.” 

“you sure you’re not the one in love with me?” his chest is firm as you run your fingers across it. 

“you wish,” he presses a kiss against your temple, and your body heats up. you huff, feigning annoyance, and his hand comes to cup your face. 

“fine. i might be in love with you. just a little bit."

[babushkatty]

Tranquil SAGAU - Part 1

-> Part 2

Your isekai trip (or descension, as others called it) into Teyvat was as abrupt as it was underwhelming.

There were no midnight showers of gold and purple, reminescent of the wishing screen you would religiously open every hour or so, hoping to miraculously have 160 primogems to make another pull. No sudden change in weather as Teyvat welcomed you with the eagerness of a golden lab puppy. No sudden meetings of significant and powerful people (vision holders, archons, adepti or otherwise) that would either scorn you or worship you with the zeal of a fanatic either.

No, it was a very quiet and peaceful affair.

You went to sleep in your bed after another mundane day that was more a blur than a memory, only to wake up in the ruins of Old Mondstadt, on the back of a peacefully sleeping Dvalin -- feeling well rested for what seemed like the first time in years, free of the pain poor sleeping positions and even worse body posture developed into.

Old Mondstadt is so much more beautiful than you remember it being in the game, but it was understandable -- it wasn't a game anymore.

The wind sings the haunting melody of Stormterror's Lair as you simply sit on Dvalin's back for hours, at peace with the world and yourself. You forget entirely about the stress of assignments, of deadlines, of examinations stacked unto one another like a house of cards, of trying to fit expectations of your friends and family that you were never made to fit and simply let yourself be.

You breathe.

It was nice.

"All-Mother." Dvalin rumbles from underneath you and it breaks the blissfull trance. He turns his head to look at you, seemingly not minding you being completely sprawled out on his back like roadkill.

"I'm sorry, Dvalin, I think you mistook me for someone." You smile sheppishly.

He huffs, but instead of sounding annoyed he just seemed... Indulgent. It was a good sign to you, who were pretty much at his mercy -- if he wanted to, he could use you as his personal toothpick and you wouldn't be able to do anything against it at all, so it's for the best that the situation doesn't escalate like that.

Then again, Venti did say Dvalin was a gentle child. You didn't see any blood clot crystals on his neck or back, so you were probably in the clear. Worst case scenario, he'd dump you on the ground and you'd have a bruised tailbone.

He made a damn good bed though, you wouldn't mind lounging on him some more if he allowed it.

"You are the All-Mother, there is no mistake. But it is only natural to deny, you do not remember."

He brings his head back and nuzzles you. You quietly melt into a puddle of happiness as he purrs and rubs against you like an overgrown cat.

He was so soft it was criminal. It was like the 'if evil why hot' trend all over again, except this time it was 'if scary why soft' instead.

"Teyvat will remember for you, even when you do not. Your kindness, your warmth, your care - all shall be paid back in full and more, for you are the All-Mother and like any mother, mortal or otherwise, you deserve to be taken care of by your children."

You don't argue, if only because dragons are known for being stubborn. The atmosphere was too nice to waste on a petty argument.

"Do you know how I got here?" you ask instead.

You don't ask about the way back quite yet. You're not sure you ever would, if you were being honest. It just... Felt right to be here, in Teyvat, instead of back home.

In the back of your mind, you quietly wonder if you should feel guilty about not being attached to your old world, to your friends and family, all that much, but you dismiss the notion quickly. Feeling different than what you were taught was normal wasn't wrong, people were different from one another and trying to hold yourself to an impossible standard just because it was the average would only make you miserable.

Your world was slowly growing more accepting towards differences, perhaps in a few decades your emotional stance would be validated as well.

"Teyvat brough you here, that is all I know."

Dvalin huffs against you and you chuckle, a little ticklish.

You both fall silent after that and simple enjoy each other's presence and the ambience of Old Mondstadt.

Dvalin's willingness to simply be, without chatter or interaction, only made your resolve to stay stronger. No one back home understood your need to simply be in a room with another presence, both people doing their own things, everyone called you odd for it.

It was really nice.

"Call me (Name)."

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨

I'm bad at naming things and I'm bad at tumblr - perfect combination!

It's a gender-neutral post/series (if I write more), I promise! (Or at least I'm trying my best to write it as gender-neutral, you have full permission to yell at me if I slip up so that I can fix it!)

The term "All-Morher" is not meant to assign a gender, it's meant to compare the Creator of Teyvat to a mother (as I tried to clarify with Dvalin), because mothers bring life into the world and the Creator brought life to Teyvat.

You know, like a mother.

Besides, gods are above something as silly as gender or race *gesturing wildly to Loki giving birth to an 8-legged horse*

I am aiming for a very soft and gentle AU, the terms Creator or Your Grace didn't fit into it at all! Teyvat knows its' All-Mother is an utter softie that doesn't care for religious worship and would rather chill, so its' adjusting to fulfill those preferences -- hence, no grand entrance, no throwing its' All-Mother into the deep end by parking their ass in front of Mondstadt gates and no scrambling to survive.

Just a nice, quiet day chilling with Dvalin.

Fun fact, I have never done the Sumeru Quest and I don't have the space for Fontaine, so that's gonna remain a thing for a long, long while yet.

I don't read the manga either.

We D'ballin, ✨who needs lore accuracy anyways✨

That being said, I am slowly going insane because of the windows in-between subjects at Uni. Who made that a thing? I just want to talk, I promise.

Yell at my bad english, I'm an english major so all yelling is appreciated.

[babyflorencee]

You're stuck with me

Regulus Black x fem!Reader

"I just don't understand why you're so upset over this," I said, with a confused expression.

"Y/n, how can you be so stupid? That guy was hitting on you harder than a hammer to a nail, and he was so damn obvious about it!" Regulus yelled, roughly running his hand through his Brown locks.

This had been going on for around 2 hours. All the yelling, screaming, and insults that were being spat at each other, just to prove a point, that neither of us was able to get across.

Why was Regulus so mad, you might ask? Well, he's mad because some guy at a diner asked for my phone number, and was just overall hitting on me the whole night, even though he was well aware that I was with Reggie. However, if it wasn't for Regulus' trust issues and lack of self-control, maybe we wouldn't have left the guy limp on the floor with a bullet between his eyes. "What? Am I not good enough for you so you have to go out and seek attention from other people!" he yelled, face red with anger.

Regulus has always been insecure about our relationship. He thought I deserved better, so when he said that, my heart immediately broke. However, I was still mad at him.

"Trust me babe, you're more than enough! But that's not what the problem is!" I yelled back, getting more and more annoyed with him.

"Then please, enlighten me with what the problem is!" He yelled, throwing his arms in the air like a madman.

"You want to know what the problem is? You're way too clingy, and you're jealous ALL the damn time. Like I get, I'm yours and only yours! Reg, we are literally engaged. I'm not going anywhere, so why the fuck can't you get that through that thick head of yours?" I yelled back, not thinking about what I was saying. However, what I said hurt him, and he wasn't about to let that comment slide.

"Jealous? Well, excuse me for not being content with the idea of another man's hands all over that body of yours. You know, the body that's mine, and only mine to see and touch!" The whole fight was pointless; we both knew this, but neither of us wanted to back down.

Regulus and I have been in a relationship for a little over 3 years. We very clearly loved each other with all our hearts. We have only fought four times in our entire relationship, but this fight was different, but in the worst way possible. The intrusive thought of Reggie and me breaking up started to seem less crazy.

"Listen, I don't like sharing. I never have, and I absolutely refuse to share you. I don't want to fight about this anymore. It's silly. Can we just agree to disagree that the whole thing is that guy's fault?" He said, as he opened his arms out for me, with a hopeful expression.

I didn't respond. I just walked over towards him, engulfing him in a tight hug. Regulus immediately starts burying his head into my neck, holding onto me as if I was going to disappear any minute. Once we pulled away, he refused to look at me, instead; he looked at the floor. "Can we cuddle?" He asked, his voice so quiet I could barely make out what he said.

"Of course," I took his hand in mine, smiling up at him.

Once we got to mine and Regulus' bedroom, I was immediately pulled on the bed, being crushed by Regulus' weight. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, I knew something was on his mind. "Hey Reg, what's wrong?" I asked, already having an idea of what he was going to say.

He sighed, rolling off of me so that he was on his side of the bed. "I hate fighting with you," he said, his voice breaking.

I pulled him into a tight hug, wishing that the fight had never happened. "I was scared, for a minute there, that we were going to break up," he mumbled, into my shoulder.

"Never in a million years," I whispered into his ear, entangling my hand into his hair.

"You're stuck with me," I said, laughing a little.

We lay back down, grasping onto each other as if our lives depended on it. "I'm glad that's over," Reg said, placing a kiss on my cheek, yawning.

"Night love," I said, rubbing his lower back until I eventually fell asleep.

[lycandrophile]

i’m getting my drains out tomorrow and i’m sure things will be different after they’re gone, so here’s my observations about top surgery recovery as of 6 days post-op!

(click here for my first post, from 3 days after)

something i forgot to mention in my last post is that if they tell you a medication has to be taken with food, do not fuck with that. absolutely do not. my antibiotic had to be taken with food and on day 2, i thought “well, i just had breakfast not too long ago, surely that’s close enough and i’ll be fine” and my parents agreed, but guess what? i spent the next hour in hell. the meds made me nauseous so i had to eat, but eating still hurt a lot because of the sore throat from being intubated, so trying to make it better just caused me more pain. and both the sore throat and the nausea (which i guess was as much a heartburn sort of situation as it was nausea) were both very chest-adjacent feelings, so that on top of the usual pain and discomfort from surgery was just a perfect storm of horrible things all centralized to one part of my body. it was awful, and i will never fuck around with something like that again. that being said, if you do find yourself in that situation or are just looking for something light that will still do the job because you’re not that hungry, 10/10 would recommend oatmeal and apple sauce. apple sauce is what finally got my body to stop rioting against me and my bad decisions, and after that i started always taking it halfway through a bowl of oatmeal and that worked perfectly.

on day 4, i was able to sit up and get out of bed by myself for the first time! i still can’t do it just by using my core muscles, but if i hold onto my legs and lower them, i can sort of roll myself up into a sitting position without using any of the affected muscles too much.

on day 5, the sore throat from hell that being intubated gave me finally went away! cheers to not gripping my pillow in pain every two seconds while i swallow my spit anymore. it lasted a while, but it honestly went away pretty fast — on day 4 it was a bit better than it had been, and then the next day it was just gone.

also on day 5, i really started to feel the bandages digging into my armpits. i’m not sure if it’s because the bandage has been slipping up over time, if my armpits have some extra swelling now, or if it’s just been wearing my body down over time, but it feels like it’s starting to cut off circulation at a certain point and it makes my arms ache sometimes. that’s probably not great, but the surgeon will be redoing everything at my post-op anyway so i’ve just been riding it out until then. in the meantime, i can tell it’s definitely worse when i’m sitting back and kind of slouched (because that position pushes it up more), so i try to sit up or walk around when i feel it. having pillows on either side of me to put my elbows up on definitely also helps a lot — that’s how i’ve been sleeping, but it would be good for just sitting too.

also also on day 5, i started getting this weird fluttery feeling in the spot where the left side of my chest and the meat of my left armpit connect. it feels like it’s probably some sort of muscle spasm. it’s not painful at all, but i honestly wish it was because it’s just super weird and uncomfortable instead and i hate it. it genuinely might be my least favorite out of any pains or sensations i’ve had so far. luckily, though, it seems like it’s already died down and only happened a couple times today.

my energy has been all over the place. i’m at the point now where mentally i’m much closer to my normal state so i’m once again having the adhd urge to constantly do stuff, but my body’s ability to keep up is far less consistent. sometimes i get restless and can just get up and pace around for a while, but other times i try to do that and get really quickly exhausted. i’m definitely more able to have conversations and feel more like myself now though, even when my body is tired out.

i’ve been thirsty as all hell the past few days. i feel like i’m constantly asking my boyfriend to refill my water for me because i drain it so fast. it’s a very specific kind of thirst, too — like it never quite goes away even when i’m definitely very thoroughly hydrated, and like anything but water can’t even touch it. it’s not a bad thing, getting lots of fluids after surgery is important and i wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly why my body is doing it, but it is a bit frustrating to just be incessantly thirsty for days at a time.

my walking posture is getting straighter every day. i still have to hold my chest to walk because of the bandage feeling like it drags things down, but if i’m walking with my mastectomy pillow, it mostly just looks like a typical slouch and not the deep hunch i started with.

at this point, my chest is super sensitive to any kind of movement, and that’s the other thing the pillow has been really good for at this stage. if the bandage shifts at all, if my body moves at all, basically anything — i feel it all in my chest really intensely. it’s not always painful, but it isn’t comfortable either. holding the pillow to my chest helps stabilize things so the movement doesn’t reach the sensitive parts as much, which is really great.

walking up stairs is easier than walking down stairs, which is the exact opposite of what i would’ve guessed. from what i can tell just from moving around, i think it’s because bending your legs up to a higher step pretty solidly relies on your legs and lower core muscles to make it happen, while reaching your legs down to a lower step requires stretching your body out (which is famously not your body’s favorite thing to do after top surgery). it often feels like i almost can’t reach the step below and have to just barely catch it with the balls of my feet. it’s also just generally been good to take the stairs super slow going up or down because you really can’t use the railing — putting enough weight on it to really rely on it at all requires using chest muscles, so the best i’ve been able to do is just rest my hand on it in case of emergency (because i’d rather hurt my chest than crack my head open if it comes to that).

one of the things that makes the stairs hard is that my center of balance is off from hunching, and that definitely affects my walking too. it’s less pronounced now that i’m in the habit of using the pillow to walk straighter, but i have to take shorter strides and sort of shuffle around because longer strides need better balance, and even with the shuffle i’m stumbling more than usual. i already have some balance problems so i’m pretty used to the feeling of it, but it has freaked my parents out a couple times to see me start listing to one side before i catch myself.

fuck reflexes. reflexes are the actual worst. something i didn’t anticipate is that no matter how careful you are to not reach your arms too far or move them too fast, you can never totally account for what you do if something starts falling. a few times now, i’ve definitely reached too far or fast before stopping myself because i saw something about to go down and my brain instinctively told my hands to catch it. i’m not sure if there’s anything you can really do about that, but it’s worth being aware of because it caught me by surprise the first time i did it.

one side of my chest has been consistently more swollen than the other. that side has also consistently drained less, and the fluid it does drain is darker and redder. we asked my surgeon if that was normal and she said there’s almost always one side that drains more than the other, but it’s still something we’ve been keeping an eye on. hopefully i’ll be able to get a more concrete answer at my post-op, once she can see the swelling up close and look at the drainage numbers from the past week.

as i’ve been getting some use of my body back, the pain in my chest has gotten a bit more obvious. it’s milder pain, and when i’m not doing anything it’s mostly painless to the point where i’m going a lot longer between tylenol doses, but when i’m using my body, i can definitely feel it. the fact that i’m not avoiding physical activity like the plague as much means i’m noticing more pain even though objectively my pain levels have gone down — the things that hurt now didn’t hurt less before, i just didn’t even attempt them before because i knew they would hurt so much. now that the pain is down, i can try more things, which means i’m more likely to try something that ends up hurting. of course, you should always try to follow the if-it-hurts-then-stop rule, but you can’t avoid the pain altogether as you learn your body’s boundaries, so i ended up getting to a point where getting better feels like getting worse.

on that note, i’ve also learned that there’s a pretty distinct difference between milder “i should proceed with caution” pain and intense “stop what you’re doing right now” pain. as much as avoiding things that hurt is ideal, it’s not always realistic, but my body has definitely been very clear in telling me what i can and can’t compromise on. in the beginning i was really paranoid about doing anything that caused any pain at all, but now i’m more familiar with where i can push a bit further if needed and where i really need to hold off.

i’ve been getting chills much more easily lately, and they’ve also been SUPER strong. i’ll be watching a show or listening to music and something will give me chills, and it’s a really intense feeling all across my ribs, and even thinking about the thing that caused it brings on a whole new wave. i’m super curious to see if it’s just a temporary result of my nerves doing their thing or if it’ll stick around long-term. it’s not unpleasant at all, i honestly really like it.

i got some food for myself for the first time today (day 6) and it just involved slicing some pretty soft cheese, but wow, it was a workout for my shoulder. i’m guessing it’s because i haven’t really used my muscles in that way for a week, and because not being able to use my chest muscles means i was relying on my shoulder a lot more to do all the work of moving my arm. by the time i was done, just holding the block of cheese to put it back in the fridge felt like lifting weights.

i didn’t change my shirt the first few days but i’ve changed a few times now, and we’ve perfected the art of getting a button up shirt on me without overreaching my arms at all. basically, you want to put both arms into the sleeves before you lift the shirt up onto your shoulders, because once the shirt is on one shoulder, you have to reach back a lot farther to get to the other sleeve. once you have both arms in, you can lift it onto your shoulders and button it. ideally, whoever’s helping you should do most of the work to pull the sleeves over your arms so you don’t have to stretch your arm out to get them on. i’m sure that’ll be overkill once i have a bit more mobility, but for now, it works great. it definitely would be tough if the shirt was fitted though, so i’m glad i went up a size.

i hope my posts like this have been helpful, or at least interesting to read! i’ll definitely keep updating as time goes on and things change, and i’m also going to work on a breakdown of my experience at the hospital pre- and post-op, as well as my post-op appointment experience once that happens tomorrow.

y’all are getting the good, the bad, and the ugly of my recovery experience. i know a lot of this has been very focused on the bad and the ugly so far because surgery is generally rough, but i’m going to see my chest again tomorrow so stay tuned for some good!

[crazycurly-77]

A beautiful day - pt. 2

"...maybe I can be your family...if you want?"

These were his words. You stood there and just looked at him. That couldn't be, you had to be dead or laying in bed dreaming. Or your mind and ears were just playing tricks on you.

Then suddenly everything around you went black and you fainted. Gibbs was just able to catch you as you collapsed. He picked you up and carried you quickly to the ambulance.

"Paramedics! Quick! She just collapsed and is unconscious!" Gibbs called to them and laid you on the stretcher outside of the ambulance.

They examined you as best they could and then told the worriedly waiting team Gibbs that everything was okay. It seemed to be just a reaction to the pressure wave. Nevertheless, they took you to the Bethesda Hospital for further examinations and observation.

When you arrived at the hospital, you were immediately taken to the examination room and doctors rushed over, but after a short time the head doctor came to your colleagues who were waiting in the corridor and told them that everything was okay.

“We have treated her wounds, which are fortunately only superficial. The pressure wave must have hit her hard, which is why she became unconscious, but she will probably come to soon.”

The doctor put his hand on Tony's shoulder, who was standing next to him, and smiled “don't worry, everything's fine.”

That was good to hear, but there was someone who needed the comfort more than Tony. This someone was none other than Gibbs, who nearly stood beside himself, because of worry for you. So the team leader asked “Can we go to her?”

“Yes, of course. Down the corridor on the left, last room.”

While the doctor was answering Gibbs' question, your boss was already running towards your room. He absolutely had to see for himself that you were really okay.

The team shared his wish and ran after him.

You were pale and partially bandaged, but otherwise you seemed fine. There were no monitors or tubes connected to you. That was a good sign and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Now that they were all convinced that you were fine, everyone headed home until only Ducky and Gibbs were left.

“Don't you want to go home, too? She's in the best hands,” Ducky asked his old friend and gently placed his hand on his shoulder.

Gibbs just shook his head “I can't, Duck. I have to stay with her.”

Doctor Mallard nodded understandingly and also went home.

Now you two were alone in your room. Gibbs pulled up a chair next to your bed, sat down on it with a deep sigh, took your hand in his and began keeping watch at your side.

He would have sat next to you as long as necessary, but luckily you woke up again after 3 hours.

You looked around and realized that you were in the hospital and Gibbs was sitting next to your bed, holding your hand and sleeping.

You had never seen him so relaxed. Sleeping, he seemed somehow sweet and peaceful. At this thought, you couldn't help but laugh quietly.

If he knew that you had just called him sweet in your thoughts...

... he would be very happy about it, but you didn't know that. At least not yet. 

You gently squeezed his hand to wake him up - and it worked.

He was awake immediately and your eyes met.

"I didn't want to shock you so much that you fainted," he explained immediately with a good-natured wink.

To which you replied with a broad grin and a "You're simply stunning," always holding his gaze.

That was your thing, your dynamic. Stick together and tease each other like two good old friends who have been through a lot together.

The two of you burst into loud laughter at your joke, which the doctor in the hallway heard. He came in, asked how you were and told you that you could go home the next day.

That was very good news. You were allowed to work too, but only at your desk. And there was no other option, because as soon as you entered the bullpen the next day, Gibbs held your transfer papers under your nose and said with satisfaction, "You're now working for me as an explosives expert. Advisory work, no more defusing."

You could only stare at him, because you hadn't expected that a transfer would be possible so quickly. But hey, he was Jethro Gibbs after all, he could make a lot of things possible.

But as you were about to go to the only empty desk in the room with the papers in your hand, Abby came running and called excitedly: “Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! I found something very interesting!”

He turned to her and asked: “What, Abs?”

“There was baking powder on the bomb!”

Surprised, you went to her “Baking powder? Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

Concerned, you turned to the boss: “I think I know the builder of the bomb.”

Immediately his analyzing blue eyes turned to you with the silent request to continue.

“During my training there was a student who always used baking powder. He had a thing for the TV series MacGyver from the 80s.”

“So what?” Gibbs wanted to know.

“He went crazy during his training and preferred to build bombs rather than defuse them, which is why he was sent to a psychiatric hospital. But by the looks of things he is probably free again,” you informed him worriedly.

That was apparently the last clue Gibbs needed: “His name?” he asked immediately.

“Adrian Turner”

“McGee, address!” he asked him immediately to research it.

Tim did a quick search on the computer, found the suspect, and Gibbs and Tony were on their way to arrest him, while you stayed in the office and Tim had to look after you.

(To be continued...in the last chapter 3)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story.

Masterlist stories - Part 1

Masterlist stories - Part 2

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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[quordleona03]

John McIntyre's Very Good Very Secret Rules For Living With Hawkeye, Found Under The Pillow Of His Cot

Dear Future Bunkie,

Do not let Hawkeye know this list exists.

Hawkeye is a 175-lb fruitcake with a heart larger than his body and he would do anything for somone he loves if you let him. You can't let him.

Hawkeye only hates a few things but he's really serious about all of them: war, death, generals, the army, the draft, and Frank Burns. Do not let any of them get to him. Please.

Hawkeye falls in love real easy. At last count, Hawkeye loves me, loves our late CO Henry Blake (not to be confused with our current CO Frank Burns, see rule 3), loves our company clerk, loves our head nurse Major Houlihan, loves Max Klinger (have you met Klinger yet, bunkie? He's the orderly who dresses like a general's wife and has a voice like a general's horse, but he'd give you the shirt off his back - if he had one, he's usually in a dress), he loves nurses Able, Baker, Bayliss, Bigelow, Cutler, Charlie, and that's just the ABC, he loves our company chaplain, and he loves me, and by this time, if you've been nice to him for about five minutes, he probably loves you. Take this seriously. Hawkeye does.

Hawkeye loves easy, Hawkeye loves hard, Hawkeye loves a lot, and he'll do anything for someone he loves, lay himself down and let you walk on him, he's real easy to hurt. See rule 2. So get ready to be the guy Hawkeye needs when someone he loves has hurt him. Because they will.

Hawkeye thinks he's indispensable. He'll go on operating when he can't hardly stand up. One basic fix-it for this is gin, lots of it. We have a still. The other is chloral hydrate. Use it or lose him, and we can't afford to lose him.

Hawkeye really is indispensable. We can't do without him in OR. You should already know that if you had to do a OR session before you even got to go to bed. Still, you can't let him operate after 24 hours with no sleep.

Well, not more than twice a week.

Maybe three times. But don't forget that chloral hydrate is your weapon of last resort.

Hawkeye will forget to eat. Drag him to the mess tent anyway. Make him sit down with a tray of food in front of him.

If he starts talking about some other food he'd actually like to eat, get it for him. Pretend he's your pregnant wife and has a craving.

Hawkeye makes jokes about getting pregnant a lot. Do not encourage him.

Not unless you want him to start knitting booties.

USE A CONDOM WHEN YOU FUCK HIM BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY

You don't actually have to fuck him. But it really, really helps. Best wishes, and look me up in Boston once you get back to the states. We'll have a lot in common by then.

Trapper John McIntyre

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 19: Normal Straight Jacket

Bearblr Promptober Day 19: Only One Bed

Summary: Carmy and Sydney get stuck with one hotel room on a conference in New York, and Carmy is suffering for it. (908 words)

Warnings: Swearing, chronic pain, mentions of drug use (no characters use drugs), Carmy is very self-conscious, mentions of fem reader/rando lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

19 Oct 2024

I’m going to rethink acts of chivalry for the rest of my life.

So, Syd and I are at the conference in New York. I asked Sugar to do all the booking for our trip because (a) I don’t have time for this shit, (b) I’m going to fuck it up anyway because non-kitchen logistics are not my thing, and (c) Syd was already up to her eyeballs looking for new line cooks because we had a second fucking person disappear right at the start of service to go smoke crack in the back alley.

God's still a sadist, in case you were wondering.

Anyway, Sug did everything right. Like she got us rooms walking distance from the venue, so we didn’t have to put up with a rental car and all that shit, but the hotel fucked up our booking. They double-booked my room, they’re packed, the other person showed up 2 hours earlier than we did, so guess who doesn’t have a fucking room now?

At least they refunded us 75% of our booking for the massive inconvenience. More for Cicero.

So, we got one room. One bed, a shitty little table that rocks back and forth so bad that just interacting with it makes me want to hurl it out the window—not that it matters anyway because there’s only one chair—and a couch. Oh, and one bathroom. One shower. I lived on a houseboat in Copenhagen with the shittiest little shower you can’t even imagine to avoid this exact roommate scenario because being around other people, I swear to fuck, drives me fucking crazy.

I need to be able to get away from peoples’ eyes. There are few greater hells than being witnessed at all hours, than being scrutinized for your peculiarities and faults like you’re a lab rat being assessed for the gas chamber or some exotic breed of slug some random fucko put in a petri dish to poke with a stick. Every little weird thing I do—the incessant fiddling with objects, drumming my fingers, touching my face way too often to be remotely fucking normal, muttering to myself as I figure out something complicated, even writing in this fucking notebook—I become painfully aware of all of it. There’s this straight jacket on how to be “normal” that gets cinched around me—not of my own will. I fucking wish I could be as unapologetically myself as Fak is—and it ratchets tighter and tighter until it feels like my own skin is too tight on my body, and I need to get the fuck out of dodge. Kitchens are brutal and fast paced enough that I don’t have time to be a fucking weirdo and no one has time to pay any attention to me, but a conference? The funeral dinner at Ever (which I had to sit still for lest everyone at that table think I’m tweaking)? A fucking random fucking hotel room in fuck-off New York with Syd of all beings?

Darling, I feel a lot better around, but even now, she understands that I just need space and time to not be observed. It’s why we still don’t quite live together even though I know she wants to move in. More accurately, move me out, because those stupid fucking radiators and the idiot fucking landlord… Anyway, I’m on this dumbass couch because I’m short enough to fit on it (one point for being a short bitch, I guess) and Syd’s sound asleep because if I had to argue about who went where for one more fucking second, I might’ve bitten her head off, which would’ve set up an even more miserable day two than the one we’ll have anyway tomorrow.

She also still doesn’t know that my back is fucked up. And bringing it up now would’ve just made me seem like an asshole, or she would’ve gotten mad for not telling her sooner (which is fair, by the way. I definitely should’ve told her sooner), but we are now here and here is a couch that only looks nice. It feels like it’s full of sawdust or something. The grimy-ass floor might have more cushion to it. And the texture is this awful cheap polyester that whistles when I shift at all.

My back is killing me. Between the flight, then the first day of the conference (mostly sitting), and then this shit, it feels like I’ve got knives in it. Stretching didn’t help. And I’m not asking Syd to stand on it like Darling does. The pain does this weird thing when it gets this bad; starts to feel like a being. Like some hideous, horrible creature festering under my skin, invading my bones; a putrid blossom—maybe that corpse flower, Titan arum—that threatened to burst from my spine. When it gets this bad, I find myself touching the spot over and over again, sometimes going to the mirror and pulling up my shirt to look at my unbroken skin, to reassure myself that nothing was there. Half the time, I expected to see a scar, something visible to explain why it hurt so much, something I could point to, something that had a story I could tell. But no. It just hurts. It hurts the same way most things hurt: the usual way.

Well, if I had to pick one of us to be tired and the other to be well-rested tomorrow, I’d pick it like this.

[thatwildnya]

Centaur AU centaur AU (Number 1 fav AU hehehe)

I'm kinda curious about Riddle, Trey, and Cater - what kinda centaurs are those three? ALso are any of the guys particularly cuddly - regardless of their cuddlability (so, like, even if they might have rough scales or spikes of some kind or something like that, they're still a cuddler lol)

chitters and nickers:

Wild: our first request! I’m really happy to get one so quick! I started writing it as soon as I saw it, sat on it for over half a day, was unable to continue due to wifi issues, then spent another 2 hours editing before Nya convinced me it was good. I hope you enjoy anon!

Nya: it’s going to be an uphill battle convincing this man to stop editing and adding more for every request wish me luck lovelies-

TW: Rook

RIDDLE HAS BEEN UPDATED

Riddle

Griffins are known to be very independent centaurs and it isn't uncommon for them to be hotheaded and somewhat controlling, especially towards strangers or those they see as lesser. So don't expect him to be all friendly at first, let alone cuddly. But once he's comfortable and trusts you he won't ever shy away from your touch.

Trey

I knew right away I wanted him to be a draft horse. These horses are known for their even temperament and being affectionate gentle giants. If you asked me to picture a baker or anthro draft horse I would imagine a buff man with a sweet smile. Trey has the same physique as I picture plus the same vibes so it fits perfectly.

Cater

He’s a bunny boy. A floppy ear bunny boy. That’s it.

When it comes to who’s the most cuddly in general it’s hands down Kalim, strangers or not. If Nya and I hadn’t decided to make the light magic users all foxes as a little easter egg he would have been a golden retriever. If you let him Kalim will cuddle with you every time you sit down. If he’s full animal he will try to snuggle under your shirt, in your sweatshirt pouch, or if there’s room right next to your face squished in your hoodie.

In his humanoid forms he likes to stretch across your lap or midriff. You can have him curl around you and use him as a giant pillow but neither of us would recommend it. He will wiggle a lot and you’ll most likely get a face full of tail wagging at the speed of sound.

Never go to the bathroom without locking the door. He does not knock half the time and won’t leave unless you yell at him. Personal space does not exist in Kalim world. Has so much love to give but not enough places to give it too.

If we’re talking about who’s the most cuddly with mc in story then it would be Silver (yes even more than Kalim). I touched upon this in another ask, Silver absolutely adores mc and would follow them to the end of time. He’s always near them if he can help it. Mc will sit at the table to do something and he’ll be doing a snooze at their feet. Then they decide not to do the thing there and move to the living room, Silver following behind groggily. He rarely even sleeps in his room (which is the attic) because of his desire to be close to them all the time. Nobody complains because he won’t sleep in the bed unless it’s his turn.

The big cuddle bugs to their masters (excluding the two above and Floyd cuz y’know it’s Floyd) are Ruggie, Rook, Malleus, Leona, Cheka, Che'nya, Jamil, and Azul.

Ruggie’s first few years of life were rough. He comes from the equivalent of a puppy mill in this scenario and he didn’t have anyone to rely on. The first time he felt unconditional love was when you rescued him from that awful place. He was barely alive and wouldn’t have lasted much longer if he’d been there longer. He gives back to you through acts of service and physical touch. He likes being able to curl up next to you for some scritches and the occasional rough housing in full animal form. Absolutely loves taking baths with you or getting a full pet spa treatment bath delivered specially by you. When he was little he would curl up under your shirt for a nap so please let him use your belly as a pillow while he takes a snooze under the blanket occasionally.

Azul and Jamil have similar back stories. Both were neglected in favor of other pets for being less appealing. They are both teenagers by the time you adopt them and to say your relationship started out rocky would be an understatement.

Jamil (black mamba) assumed you chose him to be your servant, as that is what he was trained and advertised as. The last thing he expected was to get his own room, the newest phone model, and a trip to the store so he could pick out his collar himself. He still keeps his distance and it takes awhile for him to let you past his walls. But I swear it’s worth it in the end. He only gets super cuddly when it’s cold out. You are a warm blooded mammal and he is a cold blooded reptile give him your body heat immediately. If allowed he will wrap as much of himself around you as possible for maximum warmth.

Puberty hit Azul like a truck. With that and him putting in the extra work to stay fit he went from being completely overlooked by anyone who walked by to being the one to make the most passersby stop for a look in the shop. And yet despite that, none decided to take him home. He tried everything, from showing off his superior intelligence to having the best voice. Nothing worked. Then in came you. You took one look, smushed your face against the glass, fogged it up whispering ‘I must have him’ when he looked at you, and ran off to find the nearest employee. It was very startling to him, especially because he was busy studying when you slammed your face into the glass right next to him. But he isn’t complaining. Now he gets to spend his days scamming making deals with customers to contribute to the household expenses. As a reward he expects all the hugs, all the snuggles, praise, kisses, etc. If you deprive him of his rightfully earned wages the crocodile tears will start so be ready.

Cheka is baby.

Leona is a lazy manticore that has decided you’re his favorite pillow. Be careful not to overheat.

Che’nya wants your attention 24/7 and will get it one way or another.

Rook’s love language is yes. You will not escape. Accept your fate.

You are Malleus’ first friend and the only one he considers worthy of being his master. He is touched starved and you are his meal. Bone apple teeth.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #320

Today, J and I woke up at approximately 6:30am to go on an airplane trip to a faraway place in western New York. It's a place called Great Valley, NY, and it's almost 5 hours away from my house by car.

…It's only 2-2.5 hours away by little airplane, though!!!

Last time we planned to go out there, we couldn't go because J had a hard time starting the airplane, and getting the equipment to get it to go cost us too much time. Today, however, we already had the equipment! And, though it took longer than J would have liked to get the engine to cooperate, we were still able to make it to the place just in time to catch the flight instructor who taught J how to fly a tailwheel airplane! We'll call him Fl!

Fl seems to be very fond of J, and that is natural because J is absolutely fucking delightful!!! The two of them had lots of very excited conversation about J's new plane; Fl seemed very happy about the make and model, and the fact that it's well-maintained and in good condition!

We got there a little too late for Fl to be able to stay with us for very long, though. The original plan was for us to have breakfast together at the nearby small fly-in restaurant, but Fl had to be on his way. Still, J and I went to the nearby place; it was called Katys, and their menu had SO MANY EPIC-LOOKING THINGS!!!!

...I'll show you what we got!!!

This was their regular coffee. I put sugar and half-and-half in it:

...The swirling fluids look kinda like some kind of gas giant planet, don't they...? It tasted just as good as it looked!!

This was their seafood stuffed mushrooms:

...They were filled with crab and some other stuff, and then covered in alfredo sauce - absolutely heavenly!!! I've never had stuffed mushrooms with alfredo sauce before, but I can confirm that it's definitely a stellar combination!!

This was an open-faced steak sandwich on garlic bread, with "sidewinder fries":

The sidewinder fries have this kind of texture:

...And there was an ale cheese to go with it!!!

...And J got a burger melt!!

Naturally, I couldn't finish everything, so I packed up the rest and brought it home for later! It's in the fridge, and it's gonna make a great breakfast tomorrow!!!

...I wish I could have shared more than just pictures of my lunch with you. This was some of the best stuff I've eaten in a long time.

Anyhoot! I'm sure you've been waiting for the pictures of the scenery, right? Lemme grab up some of the best ones:

...We didn't get back home until around 7pm. By then, I had spent a long time in the plane, and the chill from that is still in my bones!!! My body dislikes the cold very much, and due to the fact that I've had to resist it all day, I'm pretty tired.

...Also, it's like 11pm right now. I'm not gonna have time to get to the broth today. It's a shame, but... it is what it is. I'll have to rest up and try it tomorrow.

Maybe I'll sit in front of the fireplace for a bit to chase the chill away from my bones before I bury myself under some blankets and fall asleep.

...I wish you could have shared this day with me. I wish you could have enjoyed the scenery in the plane with us and eaten epic noms with us. I wish you could have met Fl. I wish you could sit next to the fireplace with me and take joy from the feeling of the autumn chill leaving your body. I wish you had your own pile of soft blankets to crawl under, upon a safe and warm bed.

...Sephiroth. Please. Make good choices out there so you can build a life like this one. Okay? Work hard on it, all right? Because you can have any of this. I promise you that you can. You just gotta make good, wholesome choices that will lead you there. I'll be rooting for you, okay?

In the meantime... please stay safe. Stay safe, because I'm gonna write to ya tomorrow.

I love you.

Your friend, Lumine

[funnuraba]

ME/CFS symptoms part 2: The Fatigue

Hey, have you guys noticed how everyone is tired recently? Like, everybody you know is exhausted, and so are you, and so is everyone on the internet and in real life, and nobody's getting better, and sleep and rest don't help?

In addition, are you having new symptoms like tingling hands and feet? Dizziness or lightheadedness? Restless legs? Digestive problems? Slow thinking? Word confusion? Tinnitus or other hearing loss? Vision loss? Stomach problems? Sinus issues? Sleep disturbance or change? Soreness? New, worsening or changing migraines? Heart palpitations? New sensitivity to the weather? Joint pain? New chronic pain spots? Dark patches on your torso? Hair loss? New incontinence at an unusual age without having had children? Do you feel like you have the flu after heavy exertion?

Yeah I was having a lot of that myself. Turns out it was Long Covid, the Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome type, which makes up 50% of all Long Covid cases. I can't sugarcoat this: if you have this, you are fucked to some degree. You have to reduce the amount of energy you use or you'll degenerate further into actual living hell. That means no stimulants, no pushing through it, no exercise at all, period, no I'm not joking, exercise makes you worse with this condition.

And not just physical exertion, but mental exertion. The energy it takes to put things into words, to look at screens or movement on screens, to digest food. All of that is way more than you think. You need to figure out your new limits, because aggressive rest is the only way you stand a chance of staying in the Mild stage. This may mean ending your social life, ending travel, working from home, quitting your job. If you don't do it, you'll wish you had.

Aggressive rest means staying in bed a lot. Doing nothing. At least an hour a day of literally nothing: you lie there with earplugs in and an eye mask on. It's gonna be awful. But I'm not exaggerating: Moderate ME/CFS is hell on earth, and there are two stages after that: Severe and Very Severe. Your body physically can't restore energy in a normal way anymore. If it runs out, you'll get Post Exertional Malaise, and if you get too much of that you "crash".

A crash keeps you from doing anything. You won't be able to process sound or light, you probably won't be able to get out of bed. You may not be able to sit up. You might struggle to breathe. You may get out of the crash in a day, in a week, in months--or never. Every single crash has the potential to become a permanent loss of function. People have lost the ability to digest food and the muscular strength it takes to breathe. There are people who do nothing but lie in the dark all day, unable to tolerate light or sound, being fed through a tube port by a caretaker who has to hurry out of the room because the physical presence of another human being is too painful. And those are the lucky ones who have non-abusive caretakers; almost no doctors or professional carers believe in this disease or are equipped to treat someone who has it. You can be legally tortured in the hospital if you go in for a procedure and the doctors think you're lying about what hurts you.

If it sounds like I'm trying to scare you? Yes. I am. I spent six months toward the lower end of Moderate ME. Hell is real. You will pray for death. You will not be physically able to kill yourself. This is why all those annoying disabled people keep screeching about wearing respirators to prevent Covid spread, because your odds of getting this go up with every infection, vaxxed or not, and many people already have it. They don't know yet. And they're pushing their way past their late chance to mitigate their descent into, I am not exaggerating, hell itself. You will want to fucking die if you get to a certain stage of this condition. ME/CFS patients have a high suicide rate and report a quality of life lower than end-stage cancer and AIDS patients.

So, again, are you tired all the time lately? Do you know someone who is? Look up the symptoms of ME/CFS and be very, very careful. And wear a fucking respirator in public spaces. All the time. No taking it off for selfies or indoor eating. You people are killing yourselves and everyone else for an illusion of normality that is never ever coming back.

[pansy-placebo]

Had a very big day today! I woke up very late, started the laundry and I was juuust finishing breakfast my boyfriend bursts in and announces he's going to the beach. Right now. So I had to rush to get ready to join him since I also wanted to go to the beach.

Turns out he was meeting with more people than I initially thought so after the hassle of meeting up (involved a little walking), we spent like an hour on the beach. It was gorgeously sunny and as warm as it really gets around here, so my boyfriend and others went to swim, paddle or board in the seawater water. I just read a book and enjoyed the sunshine. I was definitely the gothest man on the beach that day lol, decked head to foot in black and grey, neck laden with necklaces. It felt good to look nice in public, and the black kept me from needing my jacket for most of it.

I lost a lot of spoons just walking two and from places, like from the car to the beach to find people and back to grab my stuff. I could see the spoons falling out of me and clattering on the ground where I walked, leaving a stream of precious invisible cutlery.

I was already very low on energy but we had a performance to watch, we booked the tickets ages ago and my friend was performing. It was a pole dancing/ aerial hoop show by a local group.

It was a great time!! Lots of cool performances, skilled dancers/athletes, great music and really well-done lighting. For one of the songs, the lights pulsed to the music which was really cool and added a lot of drama. There were also a few team performances of two people on the same hoop/pole, synched acts, etc and they were phenomenal. The acrobatics there were really impressive and the costumes were 😘👌 It overall involved a lot of clapping and hooting on my part so I lost the last of my energy doing that lol.

They held a raffle. My friend who performed and I were both vying for a knitted bolero thingy, and they actually won it! Drat. I wanted it. Still, I won 2 prizes! A painting of daffodils and some interesting acrylic earrings.

After the performance, I was lagging very far behind my bf and a friend while going to the car. I'm pretty much completely drained, my legs are sore, this is the most walking I've done in a while, probably the most so far this year. I wish I had a pedometer because I'd like to know what my current limits are and build on them.

Anyway, it was a fun day I thought it worth writing down. :3

I've taken some painkillers and some CBD gummies, finished some food I left earlier as a before-bed snack, and am currently working up the energy to go brush my teeth.

Tomorrow, my boyfriend, his boyfriend and some friends are going on a big day out that I already figured I wouldn't be able to attend, but now that I've had such a big day I know for sure I'll be absolutely wiped out.

Here's hoping the pain won't be so bad tomorrow, and that I can at least muster up the energy to go sit in the sunshine outside. I could probably put a blanket/towel down outside on a green patch near the house and chill there, if weather allows. 🤞

[mrscorcoran]

One more secret won't hurt / Bunny x reader

Part 1 Part 2

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Chapter 3: Gossip sessions can be very productive

I reach my dorm and walk directly to my room, trying to avoid anyone in the hallways. Once inside, I close the door and drop all my stuff on the desk. I reach into my minifridge and grab a leftover sandwich, then drop onto my bed to eat it, staring quietly at the ceiling. I am usually much more productive than this. None of my assignments have ever been turned in late. How could I let something so lame as a group of dorks derail my Saturday like this?

'Not the group of dorks, just the one guy' says a tiny voice in my brain. I shake my head, as if to make the voice physically go away.

Is it right, though? The guy did seem interesting and all, but enough to make my brain this useless? If I wasn't so self-conscious, maybe I would've walked over to the group and talked to them, take the mystery away, then I might be able to focus on my homework. Maybe a nap will help clear my head. Yes, a nap. Good idea.

To make the image of the dorks go away.

And the guy, of course.

 The loud guy.

I finish my sandwich, throw the wrapper at the garbage can next to my bedside table, and miss epically. I close my eyes and try to think of anything else, hoping I will fall asleep soon. It's quite early, though, and I'm not very sleepy. I've always had a tough time sleeping during the day. I toss and turn, get under the covers, and quickly climb back out. I swear I can still hear the words in the strange language floating around in my head.

I wish I knew what they mean.

Or how to spell them so I could look in a dictionary for them.

Or even just know what language it is.

There is something so intriguing about how it sounds. Is that it? Or is it intriguing because it came out of his mouth? I wonder what his name is. If I wasn't such a coward, I could've asked him.

I'm wrestling with my thoughts when a loud knock on my door gets me out of my trance. I’m grateful for this merciful distraction from that spiral I was slowly falling into. “Coming!” I yell. I walk to the door, trying to smooth my hair down with my fingers after tossing in bed for half an hour. I open the door and I’m greeted by Judy’s bright smile. “Hey, girlie!” she says, quickly stepping into my room and throwing herself into my bed with a sigh. “Ugh, I’m exhausted!” Exhausted came out more like a grunt than an actual word. “Do you have any idea how many costumes I sewed today? Way too fucking many. Is it too early to bring out the wine?” she looks up at me from the bed.

-“Nah, it’s 5 p.m. somewhere!” I say, opening the minifridge, and reaching for one of the bottles. I take a seat on my desk chair and roll it closer to the bed.

- “Girl, you okay? Cuz, you look like you really need that wine.” She sits up and reaches for the glass I’m holding out to her.

- “Ugh, don’t even get me started. I was supposed to do a bunch of work today and did exactly zero percent of it.” I take a sip of my cheap wine. “I was actually hoping I could ask you about something I saw today?”

- “Of course! Shoot.” She leans forward, as if indicating I have her full attention, and looks at me expectantly while taking a big swig of wine.

- “Aight, so. I was in the library, and there was this group, I’ve seen them around before, but never so up close. They’re kind of weird, dressed kind of old fashioned, speaking in a weird language… ring any bells?”

- “Ah. I see you met the Greek class” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. What else can you expect from a theater major…

Greek. I knew it had to be that or Latin. I nod at her, urging her to go on, provide more info.

- “Yeah, they’re very particular. They’re Classics majors, so they only take classes with one professor, I don’t think you’ve ever seen him cuz he’s just as weird as them, a complete hermit. His name is Julian, I think.” She squints her eyes, and bites hard on her bottom lip in that particular way, like she’s digging around in her brain for the correct info. “Anyways,” she shakes her head, coming back to reality, “what about ‘em? Did they say anything to you?” Her voice turning an octave lower at the end, the international Judy signal for ‘spill the tea!’

- “Oh, no, nothing like that. They were a few tables away from me, working on something in what I now know was Greek. They were just so mysterious, and I just can’t stop thinking about one of them.” I realize my mistake a second too late and see the smirk already forming on Judy’s lips.

- “Oooooooooooo someone has her very first Hampden cruuuush,” she says in that annoying sing-song voice she uses to tease me. It’s like I can physically see the goblin energy flowing through her body. “And on one of the Greek weirdos, damn Y/N, that’s bold. But honestly, you’re kind of weird too, so that makes sense,” she says, matter-of-factly. I should be used to her teasing by now, but I still feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and I groan.

- “C’mon, Judes! It’s not like that. I’ve just never heard Greek before. It caught me off guard, I guess.” I finished my wine in one big gulp and poured myself another glass.

- “Right, right,” she says, rolling her eyes again, “quit being a wet rag and go back to the boy. Was he hot?” her eyes grow huge as she waits for my answer.

- “I mean, yeah, I guess?” I close my eyes, trying to picture his face again. Yeah, I would consider him good looking. I give Judy a nod.

- “Well, don’t get any ideas. As far as I know, Francis is very gay. Like. Gay as fuck,” the last bit comes out barely above a whisper. I’m not sure why this information disappoints me, it’s not like Judy was right about the crush. “I get you, though. His hair is to die for! I wish I were a natural redhead too. My mom always said that-”

- “Wait, redhead?” I interrupt her rant. “No, I did not mean the redhead.”

- “Oh, shit. Sorry! I mean, he’s the hottest one so I assumed you meant him. My bad. I’m guessing you mean Henry then, and he is kind of handsome I guess, but dude, he is so weird. Not just weird, he’s mean. It’s like, I don’t know, like he thinks he’s better than everyone else? That one really needs to pull his head out of his own ass, and out of that weirdo professor’s ass.” She’s ranting so passionately about this Henry that I can only assume she’s had a really bad experience with him in the past.

- “Judes, slow down. Which one is Henry?” I ask, already suspecting she’s got the wrong one in mind. What she’s describing definitely does not match the vibes I got from the guy. The wine bottle is half empty already, but I still pour us both another glass.

- “Tall one, dark hair, looks like he has a stick up his ass,” her hands are moving a bit more clumsily than usual, she’s tipsy already. For someone who drinks so constantly, she’s such a lightweight.

- “Yeah, no. Again, that’s not the one I meant. I was talking about the blond one, with the-” my words are drowned out by Judy’s screech as she jumps up,  her hands holding onto my shoulders as she lightly shook me.

- “Oh! Oh! Charles! You mean Charles! Dude, you have terrible taste, like, honestly. I mean, they’re all pretty weird already, but add the freaky twin thing into it... And don’t get me started on the girl twin, that bitch is legit crazy. Camilla. She came close to clawing my eyes out at a party one time. Swear to god. I was just minding my own business, spilled a little bit of beer on her by accident. I can be very clumsy, you know.” I swear she is doing it on purpose. I let her continue her rant, sipping my wine patiently. “That huge weirdo, Henry, was standing between us in a second. He looked ready to beat me up. Now she gives me the stink eye every time she sees me. And so does her twin. They are freakishly close, those two. Did you notice they dress the same? I swear she just wears his clothes half the time. I tell you; you don’t want to get involved in that twin mess. No sir.”

- “You done, babes?” I ask her, raising an eyebrow. Once she nods, I continue. “As I was saying, I meant the blond guy with glasses. Not Charles.” Her face contorts in a weird way, like what I said makes absolutely no sense. Realization creeps into her features, slowly at first and then all at once. She looks at me like I just grew a second head.

- “You can’t possibly mean Bunny? Let’s see, was he being the loudest thing in a 10-mile radius?” I nod. That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but he was kind of loud for a library. “Yup, that’s Bunny.”

- “Bunny…” I whisper, the name feels funny on my lips. “What kind of name is that?” I ask, eyeing her suspiciously, thinking she might just be pulling my leg.

- “His name’s actually Edmund Corcoran, but everyone calls him Bunny for some reason. No idea why. But dude, he’s like, I don’t know. He’s the most down to earth one out of the bunch, but he’s also the most annoying one. I mean, you saw him.” She chuckles and spills a bit of wine on my bed. I don’t think she even noticed. “I’ve seen him around at some parties. He’s nice, but again, quite annoying. Plus, he hangs out with the other ones, so, my advice is: stay the fuck away, girl.”

- “Yeah, well, I was just curious. It’s not like I was planning on speaking to any of em. You know I’m shy with strangers.” She squints her eyes at me, clearly not believing any of my bullshit.

- “Well, I’m just glad you were not talking about Richard, cuz that one’s mine,” she throws her head back and laughs. “Fellow Californian, he switched his major to classics recently, he’s pretty cool. Hope they don’t turn him into a pretentious ass before I can fuck him.” I love Judy, she knows what she wants and doesn’t fuck around. I wish I could be more like her in that sense. “But really, this Bunny guy…”

 I quickly try to change the subject, hoping she’s kind enough to just drop it. “So, what play are all of those costumes for?” She rolls her eyes, but immediately yields, and starts telling me all about their latest production of some Oscar Wilde play.

I pay as much attention as I can, asking a few questions, laughing at her little jokes, trying to follow her stories about disastrous stage mishaps, but part of my mind is somewhere else, wondering how hard it could be to learn Greek. Imagining the delicious feeling of those sounds, rolling off my tongue. And Bunny. Mysterious Bunny. His thunderous laugh disturbing the quietest corners of my psyche.

[natalieglick]

Week 2 - Post #1

I will be the first to admit that I spend too much time on social media. I do not post very often, in fact I rarely post social media, but I am an advid scroller.

When I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is check Snapchat. Sometimes I have a few chats to respond to from the night prior. But, it is mostly to send those streaks that Max Stossel was talking about. Actively making sure that I am doing my part to not let the streak die. I'm sure some of you reading can relate to this. I have streaks with people that I no longer talk to, but because the streak is so high, neither of us have let it die yet. Even though it is meaningless at this point to send blank pictures everyday to eachother to save a number when you wouldn't even consider them a friend. Hopefully that's not just me.

Even though I rarely post on social media, I spend most of my free time or right before bed seeing what everyone else is up to. Whenever I am bored or have free time, I find myself rotating between the same four apps. Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter and TikTok. Max Stossel said it perfectly comparing social media to a "slot machine". Just like a slot machine, as you are scrolling you never know what you are going to see and that is what sucks us in. We fall down a rabbit hole because the content and entertainment is simply endless and it is different (for the most part) with every scroll. I can scroll on TikTok for hours because it never gets boring.

Having social media constantly available affects my life because rather than going out and doing things, spending time outside or being productive like Emma Rathbone talked about in her article "Before the Internet". If I did not have social media constantly available I think I would read a lot more and take more walks. I would spend more time on self care and focusing on myself. Instead, I find myself glued to my screen unable to get off social media. 15 more minuites turns into 3 more hours very quickly.

I cannot think of a specific time where I didn't have access to social media for an extended period of time. Other than maybe in an airplane. However, I don't think not having social media available is the issue, I think the issue atleast for me is not being able to see who is texting me or if someone texted me and missing out on that. There have been times in my life where I know that I have just been itching to be able to check my phone when I can't just to see what is going on or what I have missed.

I am also guilty of comparing myself and my life to those who I see on social media. Whether it is outfits, body types, hair styles, lifestyles, location. Anything you can compare, you name it, and I have most likely compared my life in some kinda way to what I see on social media. Mostly negative thoughts as I am usually wishing I looked like the person on my screen or was living their life rather than my own. Even if I know deep down that those pictures are editing in some way.

A quote that stuck with me from Max Stossel's video is, "social media is not real life but there are real human beings behind the screen". People post on social media what they want everyone else to see. They are not going to post when they are having a bad day or a bad photo of themselves or when they are just sitting at home. They post what they know other people will be "jealous over" and wish they were experiencing. It is important to remember that realy human beings like me and you are behind the post. Even influencers do not live the perfect lives they seem to be because of what they post on social media.

To wrap all of this up, I think this blog is a great way to be more intentional with my use of technology, I think this is a perfect way to start being more intentional on social media. Technology should be used to learn rather than constantly comparing yourself to others. I also think it is important to be as real as possible on social media because no one is perfect. I also will admit that I can cut back on how much I scroll and TikTok and starting readling more. I think that we often take social media for granted as a constant source of communication and entertainment, rather than living in the moment. Put your phone down, make some memories and enjoy life away from a screen.

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Ok but this is super sweet!! I love this concept so much!! Here’s a snippet:

“Just one more time, dada!”

Jonathan rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes, smiling. It was 2 a.m. and Quincey still hadn’t drifted off to the land of dreams yet. From his extensive research, he knew toddlers had strange sleeping patterns. Some days, he would go to sleep at 10 p.m. on the dot.

Today was not one of those days.

“Very well then, but I’m only telling you up until I get to the castle. Then it’s off to sleep with you. Deal?”

Quincey’s eyes brightened in the moonlight, “Ya dada!” He giggled and it melted any annoyance Jonathan had at being kept awake away completely (which, to be fair, was very little to begin it with). After all, how could he resist his son’s adorable face?

He stood up from where he was sitting on Quincey’s bed to pull out the journal from the harrowing journey to Transylvania all those years ago. They kept it on his son’s bedroom bookshelf — along with the other records from their journey (including a phonograph with Seward’s recordings) — after Quincey had asked why his father’s hair was so white. Jonathan had tried to keep it short, but with Seward and Van Helsing there as well, they had ended up telling him the entire story. Ever since that day, he had asked to hear it almost nonstop.

Jonathan sometimes wished he would grow out of this phase, mostly for his own peace of mind. If it was up to him, they would never talk about that experience again. Remember it, sure (how could he forget it, after all?). But tell it to his son as if it were a fairytale? He couldn’t see why Quincey saw it as such an interesting story. His friends had died in front of him because of a blood-sucking parasite and he almost couldn’t stop it from happening to the one he loved most. If that had happened—

He shook those thoughts off. However he felt about it personally, he couldn’t deny Quincey anything. If he wanted to hear the story, he would tell it as many times as he wished. Besides, it was fun to see him punch an imaginary Dracula for hurting his mama and whenever they were able to have Seward and Van Helsing retell the story with them, it was full of funny voices and silly songs just to make Quincey laugh.

“Dada, pleeeeeeeaaassseee!!!!” Quincey’s lower lip wobbled and his doe brown eyes glistened.

“I’m sorry, dear, I got lost in thought.” Jonathan sat back down on the bed and opened the journal, which made more of a cracking sound than usual. He looked down at it and winced a little. It was worn with the amount of retellings. He might have to ask Mina if it was time to start rewriting it in a new journal before this one feel apart entirely.

As if he summoned her, warm arms wrapped around his chest and he felt a kiss get pressed to the top of his head. Even after all these years, butterflies were released in his stomach as if they were newlyweds.

“Didn’t I order you to go to sleep two hours ago, my love?” He hummed, holding the hands that pressed into his chest.

She kept her face pressed into his hair, stifling a laugh, “Jonathan, dear, the day you ‘order’ me to do anything is the day I’m crowned the Queen of England. You did strongly suggest it, but I missed you too much.”

He blushed a little at this and reached back to cup her cheek while staring into her eyes, “I’ll be in soon, I promise, Mina. I’m just trying to help Quincey sleep.”

She smiled, “The story again?”

“Yes.”

“Mama! Stay!” Quincey, now seeing his mother, grew more excited thinking that would entitle him to more of the story.

“Quincey, your mother needs her rest. She can help tell the story tomorrow morning.”

Mina sat next to him on the bed and kissed his cheek, “Oh, Jonathan, don’t be that way. I’m fine.” She reached over to ruffle her son’s hair, “Just for a little while, alright?”

The toddler clapped his hands in agreement. Jonathan shook his head with a rueful smile, “You’re spoiling him, you know?”

Mina grinned, “So do you. I saw you give him that extra cookie after I said he could only have one.”

“Well according to my research, a growing child needs a certain amount of food in a day and—“

“No, Jonathan, he looked at you with a sad face and you love him more than anything.”

His face flushed red and he looked to the side with a small smile, “There are two people I love more than anything, Mina. But yes, I suppose it is rather hard to resist his sad face.” Jonathan turned his head down to the journal. “Alright, Quincey, let’s begin. ‘Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May…”

Jonathan is NOT trapped in a time loop Jonathan is trapped with a toddler who keeps asking him to tell about the time mama and dada killed a vampire with his uncles (and aunt).

[elizabethplaid]

mid-day notes - oct 5, 2024

I can't explain why, but I'm really wound up today. I got a couple 2-hour bits of sleep, but I've woken up suddenly both times. I don't really know what happened. I was sitting up, hugging my legs to my chest, nodding off again and almost falling back onto the bed. (Not far to go, but it's still weird when you're disoriented.)

I closed my window yesterday, expecting today's rain. I woke up in a cold sweat after the 2nd bit of sleep, but I'm not sure what factored into that.

Oh, I need to take my nose spray. I coughed wrong earlier and stuff went down the wrong pipe. I grabbed a popsicle to soothe my throat. Sinus stuff is worse today, due to the rain (atmospheric pressure on my sinuses).

Did reading my old counseling notes affect me badly? It was stuff from 2018-2019, including notes for my stories. Depression was kinda bad then, and I was vaguely discussing those "3am feelings". Consciously, I feel very distant from those thoughts. And I was already tense even before reading that stuff.

On one page, I was asking rhetorically "what does it mean to heal from trauma?". I could feel that desperation again, how distraught I was 5+ years ago. I'm struggling with self-care again, so maybe my sub-conscious felt it more than my surface-level awareness.

I've already negotiated with myself that any self-care that I can't do before my doc appointment, let it happen; we're going regardless. It's all signs I'm not doing well, so it's okay to be honest and say "yeah, this is how bad it's getting again". And if I don't want part of my body examined, I can speak up.

I mean, medical professionals deal with all sorts of gross body conditions. That's why people seek their help. I think I'm also old enough to feel a lot less ashamed. Fantastic progress, indeed.

I wish I was feeling well enough to make big plans for my birthday. I know I can do things later, but it's a little more thrilling when it's near my actual birthday. In my heart, I'm so excited, so thrilled to be alive and have grown so much. I'm very proud of myself.

I wish I could give hope to that me from 5+ years ago. My pain was so palpable in my writing. I'm still in pain now, but it's somewhat differently sourced. More related to regressing from my accomplishments (eg volunteering). Most importantly, it's off-set with my pride and the love and support of my friends and family. I have a strength now that I had been so desperate for over the years.

Idk if I'll be able to sleep again soon. You'd think I'd be better able to sleep with the rain and all, too. Mental health stuff is so tough when you don't have the language to describe things, to understand things.