#but i've been tinkering with her for the better part of a week it's time to let go
Text
Nautica, except it's her Titans Return toy so she's a Headmaster, with her partner/head Parsec. A companion piece to that Windblade I did.
#transformers#artists on tumblr#nautica#parsec#fanart#procreate#digital art#my art#character design#tf#tf nautica#transformers titans return#headmaster#not 100% satisfied with nautica herself#but i've been tinkering with her for the better part of a week it's time to let go#maccadam
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
year in review
2023 is on its way out, and it's been... a year. First full year that I've actually been active on social media (i.e. not just lurking), and first time in fandom.
My first fic of the year? when her edges soften – the longer I wrote for Valentine and the more her relationship with Johnny got weird and intimate and full of casual innuendo the more I needed to write something where they were reunited. Also my first ever experience writing smut and self-indulgently adding a whole fencing scene. Goddamn that was fun! Feels like it's older than a year.
My favorite fic of the year? thread-safe – I became engrossed with cyberpunk because of Jackie but I imprinted hard on Takemura after that traumatic heist mission and perhaps the rest is history. Valentine's story has had a lot of tinkering and reworking and it was the thing that got me back into writing, but the original story in my head was something bittersweet and angry and grieving, one night only no encores, parting badly– and I finally was able to capture that in thread-safe and it feels so good.
Most fun experiments?? There are several of these. When I got stuck and discouraged and tired of working on the longfic and plotting things out I ended up working out a "shenanigans au" (fleeting fits of reason) where I could put Johnny and Kerry and V (and Alt and Rogue it turns out) together and just have them interact without plot. Well the plot crept in, but writing some loosely connected 1-1.5k pieces focused on a single scene or idea with minimal polish was incredibly freeing. Then I recorded some of my own podfic! I wrote a chapter of thread-safe in second-person! I wrote imago and decided to incorporate pieces of it into my longfic. Playing around like this has really kept writing fun for me when I don't have the concentration to play the long game.
Additional musings and personal reflections under the cut:
2023 the year sucked ass. It has been god awful. Just the fucking worst! Cyberhanami was in February? March? I remember finishing up some of my prompts that week while I was in another state with friends who were out and about while I was in bed too nauseated and weak to move. Writing was the only thing keeping me from going insane. My health has been shoddy, I had to cancel a much anticipated two weeks of international travel, spent at least two week long periods this year with anxiety so intense it made me almost physically incapable of eating. I had an incredibly expensive panic attack, and the world... things have been better!
I find it difficult to be honest about that sort of thing– my primary instinct is Not To Talk About any of that shit, because well... it's personal! And I handle reassurance about as well as I handle compliments (awkwardly. half in panic. friendly self-deprecation). But it feels disingenuous to celebrate accomplishments without acknowledging the yawning abyss we all struggle with from time to time. I remain cynically optimistic, as always, and I'm seriously grateful for all the connections and shared art and braincells and excitable messages, especially from folks tolerating my tendency to ramble onto tangents and use an oddly formal tone. I don't know what I'm doing, but who does? It comes easier with practice. It has to, right?
See you cool cats in 2024. :3 😼
#cyberpunk 2077#year in review#for auld lang syne#seriously though everyone who's ever interacted with me even briefly– I appreciate being a part of the community and connecting#it ain't perfect but it's ours y'know?#also as someone who's horribly time blind it is nice to look back on a year and have date and timestamps and posts#to prove that I was here and doing stuff and it wasn't just a weird blur#highly recommend :3
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: Game Over
Pairing: Ayumu x MC
Word count: 1871
Genre: Fluff
Prompt: MC plays otome games
Written for the @voltagefandomproject
Notes: I haven't written in a while, but I hope you enjoy this story. I don't own Voltage or any of its characters, but I own this story.
Here goes...
His POV
*Slam*
That's the sound my office door made after I walked in and forcefully shut it behind me. Mind you, I don't always close the door that way - my parents raised me to become the well-mannered person that I usually am - except when a certain someone is involved.
I'm sure that you've already guessed who I'm talking about. She also goes by the following aliases - Kappa Nagano, the snapping turtle of Nagano, my aide, my turtle… My girlfriend. Even after dating for over a year, she never ceases to amaze me with all the different emotions and reactions she manages to draw from me simply by being her usual self - like that one time she tried asking other guys to watch a meteor shower with her instead of asking me because she thought I'd say no, or that time when she drank whisky neat in front of her ex-boyfriend and passed out. I never pegged myself to be the jealous type until I met her.
And now she's doing it again. The worst part is that I can't even read her this time around - either she's gotten better at hiding things or I've become sloppy at snooping her out.
Wait, I've become sloppy at snooping her out? That's so incredibly lame! When did I become so uncool?
Do you think I'm overreacting? You would, too, if you have a puzzle you can't figure out. Anyway, I'll tell you exactly what's gotten me into a foul mood.
It was about a week ago when I started noticing a change in my girl's behavior.
—-
"You seem busy."
She looked up at me from her spot on the couch. We arrived home from the Jurassic Land exhibit a few minutes ago, and already, my girl has plopped down on the sofa while tinkering with her phone. Again. For the hundredth time since I saw her this morning. And she wasn't just tinkering with her phone, she was holding it suspiciously close to her - like an ace student who wouldn't let her classmates copy off her exam.
"Homework?" I asked, pretending I didn't know that she didn't have any. "Anything you need help on?" I wanted to give her a fair chance to tell me what it was that was stealing her attention away from me.
I watched her eyes widen, and her cheeks flush. She clumsily fumbled with her phone and chucked it into her bag. "N-no. I'm okay. I was… I was texting with Naruko," she said with as much confidence as she could muster.
What a liar, I thought, but decided to play along. "Oh really? What could be bothering Miss Sasaki so much, she'd exchange messages with you for four hours."
I barely kept a straight face as I watched her eyes widen so much, I thought they'd pop out. "It's nothing. She's just… uh…"
And so, there I was sitting through her painfully made-up story of why her classmate was 'texting' her on a weekend. At one point, she promised to give me her full attention. But like most promises, that one ended up being broken. As soon as I hopped in the shower, she was busy with her phone with a goofy smile on her face.
—
Her goofy smile as she tinkered with her phone has been a hot topic in the Instructors' room, too. As expected, Toru is the first one to comment on my girl's head-in-the-clouds expression.
"It looks like she's found herself a boyfriend," my self-declared partner-in-crime harped annoyingly after he spotted my girl walking down the corridor while tapping away on her phone.
"I've noticed that, too. It's like there's a spring in her step these days," Soma chimed in - not that anyone asked him.
"My aide always has a spring in her step," I said, trying to keep it casual.
"Yes, but it's different this time," Goto interjected thoughtfully, as he showed me her most recent test, which she aced. "She seems to be more determined to get good marks. Whatever the reason is, she's inspired."
The collective oohs and aahs from everyone in the room was driving me to the edge. I'm so annoyed already, why can't everyone just shut up?
I said a silent prayer to whatever Gods were listening, but they may have been attending to other matters at the moment because who else should stir the pot more but the chief?
"So, the little bird is in love? That's wonderful. There's nothing better than young love."
"She's hardly even young anymore," I muttered under my breath as I desperately tried to keep my temper in check. This was getting more ridiculous by the minute. Was she seeing someone else behind my back? She can't be. I mean, she's in love with me, right? At least the last time I checked, she seemed to be.
"What do you think, Ayumu?"
The Chief's question snapped me out of the little deliberation I had going on in my head. The next thing I know, all eyes were on me, as if I were the subject of an interrogation.
I put on my best fake smile and gathered the papers that were stacked in front of me. "I think I've had enough idle time, so it's time for me to make my rounds," I said, as I stood and headed for the door.
I could've sworn I heard Toru say something to the chief about how sensitive I was, but I couldn't care less - I'd rather remove myself from the situation before they remove me from my teaching position.
As I shut the door of the Instructors' Room, I came face-to-face with the very reason I bolted out of the room I was in. There she was with her friend Naruko - her phone in hand, and a goofy smile on her face.
"I got a Super Happy Ending with Munechika. It took me a while, but I finally got to experience that toe-curling first kiss," I heard her declare cheerfully.
Munechika, huh? Who the heck is he? And what's that about a toe-curling kiss? I was seething in anger just by listening to her go on and on about her mysterious new boyfriend. That cheater!
"Right? Aren't tsundere the best?" Nakuro chirped happily beside her before our eyes met. "Hey, it's Instructor Shinonome!"
After hearing my name, my girl halted abruptly and her eyes widened. Great, I thought. This is just perfect.
"I-Instructor…," she stammered and pocketed her phone quickly.
Oblivious of the tension between us, her trusty accomplice prattled on like I was part of their conversation to start with, while my cheating girl's eyes looked everywhere but at me. I could feel my breath hitch and my blood boils the longer I stayed.
"A new guy, you say?" I looked pointedly at my girl, who now looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. "I can't say I understand his taste in women, but well, as long as you're both single…" I said, emphasizing the last two words before I walked off as quickly as I could. To where you ask? Why, to my office, of course.
I thought I heard her call my name, but my ears were throbbing and I had to get behind the safety of my office. It's one thing that I knew she was spending more time on her phone, but hearing her say another man's name out loud - was just too much.
So now, here I am in my office, taking a few calming breaths to regain my composure. And just as I was getting my rhythm back, I heard the door bust open, and in comes my girl - with beads of sweat on her forehead and a little short of breath.
But I can't deal with her right now.
"Instructor -"
"I'm busy at the moment," I lied and swiveled the chair so I wasn't facing her. "Why don't you just come back after class? I'll probably have something for you to work on then."
From behind, I could hear her walking towards me - her steps as well as her breathing were measured. "This won't take long." her voice was directly behind my chair so I held my breath and closed my eyes, hoping that she wouldn't see me in this state. "You were shaking when you left, and I had to come after you…"
I gasped. Was I too upset to realize I was shaking earlier? I was going to respond to her, but thought better of it. After all, they do say less talk, less mistakes, right? I quietly sat with my back to her. Even when I couldn't see her, I could tell she was nervous - probably wringing her hands together.
"Well?"
"Well," she said, breathing in sharply. "I think you misunderstood…"
"Hm?"
"Munechika…"
"Oh, your new guy?"
"Instructor," she said, coming around to face me. I can tell she was deeply distressed. "Munechika isn't a real guy."
Not a real guy? Now, I'm confused.
"He's a 2D character from this otome game that Naruko recommended a week ago," she continued while showing me an animated guy in a scrub suit. "He's a fictional doctor who's hot and cold. I picked him because he reminds me of you. I'm sorry if you were worried, but I would never cheat on you."
2D, otome… So, you mean to tell me I've been jealous of a fictional character this whole time? This is making me cringe big time, but I think my face must've loosened up because I heard her sigh with relief. And now, she's got that goofy smile on her face again, but this time her eyes are on me, like they're supposed to be.
"What are you smiling there for?" I asked. "You're not off the hook yet."
"You can't still be mad at me."
"Oh? And what about that toe-curling kiss you were talking to your little friend about?"
I know I sounded ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. And now, it was her turn to gasp. "Oh, come on," she said, her face turning red. "You give me so much more than toe-curling kisses, and you know it."
I smirked. "Do I? After hearing you go on about this 2D fantasy guy, I'm really not sure anymore…"
"But I do love your kisses, Instructor," she said, earnestly.
"Oh? Then prove it," I challenged her.
Her eyes shot wide. "What? Like, here?"
I sat back and watched her look around, obviously worried someone would walk in on us. But no less than five seconds later, she gives me yet another surprise.
Here in my office, on my chair, with the girl I love most on my lap, giving me the best toe-curling kiss I've ever had. She wins again. She always wins with me. That's how crazy I am about this silly girl. I guess she can keep playing her otome games and have silly little crushes on 2D guys who remind her of me. I suppose I wouldn't mind - much - after all, otomes always end with game over, but as for me, I'll give my girl the Super Happy Ending she never knew she's always wanted.
The end.
#voltage otome#voltage fandom ccc#Voltage fandom project#her love in the force#ayumu shinonome#Ayumu x mc
18 notes
·
View notes
Note
I just read your rant and boy howdy was it lovely, I absolutely agree with you on all of it but I would like to point something out
Sophie rejected Dex before she kissed him
Dex had his hopes and dreams stamped out (Violently!! She did not just calmly go "No, sorry, I don't feel the same", she reacted with fucking /horror/ when she saw the crush cuffs) he then had to kiss the girl he had a crush on who just said she didn't like him (What else was he supposed to do when she kissed him??? I can bet that he didn't want to kiss someone that just rejected him) and listen to her go "See? Absolutely nothing there. You felt it too, you didn't feel anything either" Yeah!! No shit sherlock!!! You just rejected him before kissing him without asking if he wanted to!!!
God, Dex deserves so much better and I hate it so much. He deserves to be angry at Sophie, at the world, he deserves to tell Sophie to fuck right off and only make things to help Keefe and Fitz. He deserves to have that moment absolutely ruin his friendship with Sophie because it was absolutely a bitch move of hers and just oh my fucking god Dex would have been sobbing in his room for weeks after that moment
"Best friend" my ass, you barely talk to him unless you need something!! Dex seriously needs some better friends, maybe even a corruption arc to join the neverseen because at least they respect him and appreciate what he can do and actually see him as a person, unlike Sophie "Center of the world" Foster who only thinks of which hot boy she should try out next or that everyone should love her because she's their """""Saviour"""""
God, Sophie sucks so much
I'd rather the series be about the mirroring of Dex and Fitz with them as the two main characters and perspectives we get, they are such interesting characters (Futz with All The Pressure and Dex with Nothing To Lose) and their relationship could even end up romantic as enemies to lovers or "A bit too close to be friends" because Shannon wouldn't write gae
omg thank you I'm glad it made even a smidge of sense 😅
Oh that's right, my bad! Honestly it's been a while since I read the series (I've been thinking abut re-reading but honestly I think I'd rather die than remember how good it used to be and how unnecessarily complicated it is now).
But you're absolutely right. Dex deserved SO much better. Not only was that kiss like, non-consensual, it was really cruel. I bet Dex would've smacked Sophie if he hadn't had his eyes closed (and I would've applauded him). The whole thing was just so wrong.
And I agree, Dex deserves to be angry. Angry at everyone and the world. Especially since Sophie was his first friend and messed it up so bad. What makes me hurt the most for him is that after he got into the "circle" of cool kids, he was part of the fun for a while. He was finally included, for the first time in his "child-of-a-bad-match" life. He was part of something, people liked him. And then slowly they all went away. They left him, and now he sits, alone except for Tinker and his inventions, in a room at Widgetmoor. Hoping and praying that they won't forget him entirely. After all... he was useful to them once. Maybe they'll want him again.
So he sits and works.
Honestly, at this point, a corruption arc would be understandable. It would only be natural, the way they abandoned him once they found cooler, more "useful" people. I sure as heck would be bitter and angry enough to make the Neverseen notice me as a potential member.
But let's be real, the Neverseen would probably do the same thing to Dex as they had to Jolie, to Keefe, to Tam. One wrong move and bam, you're done. Doesn't matter what you brought to the team, if you question, you're out.
Maybe Dex would be too hurt and angry to question. Maybe he'd go completely rogue and want to do anything to get back at the people he'd once called "friends". I can't really see it though. He's always been such a sweet, selfless boy that I really don't see him being completely evil. It would be interesting to see though!
Also interesting would be to see Fitz and Dex as the main characters as you said. I personally don't ship them, (I don't think they have a good dynamic) but I do agree that Fitz with All the Pressure and Dex with Nothing to Lose would be a VERY interesting story!
*whispers* and hey, idk if you like to write, but if you wrote a fanfic along those lines, i'd read it for sure :D
#kotlc#kotlc fandom#kotlc fitz#kotlc headcanon#kotlc headcanons#kotlc dex#dex dizznee#fitz vacker#sophie foster#kotlc sophie#kotlc discourse#kotlc neverseen#kotlc theory#kotlc theories
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
reckoning
a/n: i've been sitting on this fic for a while, and i figured pride month was the best time to let it out of my drafts. still mourning that we'll never get to really see spooner on her journey with her sexuality but hey, that's what fanfic's for, right?
When she was growing up, Spooner had always had the reputation of being a weird kid. She supposed there was some truth to that - people always looked sideways when she told them that she was abducted by aliens, even though she had known it was true at the time. But there'd always been something else, some other barrier between her and her peers.
While the rest of her classmates were hooking up and dating, she had no interest in any of that. Her foster father had just told her she was a late bloomer. Spooner wondered if the aliens had tinkered a little too much with whatever antennae they'd put in her head and screwed her up.
It wasn't like she was too keen to settle down, get married, have kids. She figured that with this alien stuff, she could never live a normal life, anyways. What if they came back for her, just like they had back then? But she tried, went out with some guy who ogled her a little much and stole her truck after they hooked up. Maybe that was her sign this whole thing wasn't for her.
So Spooner shoved it to the back of her head and focused on what mattered. She'd lived her whole life feeling like an outsider in Odessa, so fine. Retreating out to her compound, living off the land without anyone to tell her what to do, making her own artillery just in case any of those aliens came to snatch her back up, that took up plenty of her attention.
Yet when she got that chance to get out whatever those aliens had put into her head, she couldn't help but have a little hope. Spooner still didn't dream of a white picket fence. But, she thought, after seeing Ava try so hard to get her fiance back, that it'd be nice not be completely alone. The scan came back null, nada, no alien tech stuck into places it shouldn't be and she had to face it - maybe, the problem was her.
The Legends helped feel like she didn't have to be alone. She'd thought they were idiots, but they pulled her into their ranks fast. Even if she'd been turned into a fork more than once. What they didn't help was affirming that she was missing something. Whether it was how affectionate they could be or how straight-up horny, she could feel a little left out.
The Fountain of Imperium felt like a lucky break. Just like she had with the alien antennae, the fact that a fungal network had connected itself to her felt like a reason. Mushrooms didn't understand human reproduction, even if they could understand the feelings. In some part of herself, she knew it was just her rationalizing. She was spending too much time with the Legends and their psychoanalyzing.
Spooner still let that linger for weeks. There was a reason for it, even if it wasn’t a good enough explanation. But it was hard to delve deeper on it when they were so busy trying to get to the Legends, or back home, or back to some other version of the ship.
In the end, it was Zari Tarazi of all people to give her a word for it - “asexuality.”
Finally, it wasn’t just a marker of alien weirdness on her. It wasn’t just her who felt this way. There was a word for it, a label - maybe not a reason, but she didn’t need an explanation for it anymore. It was just who she was.
It was like that fight in Fist City, when she used her powers on that worm. Alien powers and sexuality didn’t go hand in hand for most people. But both of them felt like there was some kind of conclusion to her struggle and finding out what all this was for. This time, it left her feeling a lot less lightheaded, but it proved that all of this wasn’t for nothing.
She couldn’t help that she’d blamed one on the other for so long. It was better than just settling on the notion that she was missing something, but now she knew she wasn’t missing anything at all.
#alli writes shit#legends of tomorrow#spooner cruz#been a while since i posted something character study adjacent
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blue Screen Brain Machine
Sometimes I wonder what mysterious power I'm actually running on, when I manage to get though an entire day after yet another night of no sleep (two weeks of insomnia should have been my first clue that something was amiss in the ol' brainmeats department) -- pure spite, would be my best guess. Over the past couple days, I managed to get everyone cleaning and throwing things out. It's been a tornado of activity, in which I found out that the Paterfamilias has by actual count FIVE vacuum cleaners. Can you imagine anyone having five vacuum cleaners? ONE vacuum cleaner, sure. So, Kriss was madly vacuuming away in her area (she's in the living room temporarily -- just call this place Joe's Waystation for the Wayward Wastrels), when it suddenly BURST INTO FLAMES.
Naturally, it did.
Of course, Joe tried to salvage it once we managed to put out the flames. Kriss was ready to wring his neck, trying to convince him to just toss the thing, because of course there's no saving it. I told her to just leave him be, and let him tinker with his vacuum from Hell -- it was unplugged, no danger of it spontaneously combusting again, and he'd eventually arrive at the same conclusion -- no point in getting annoyed with him, it's his vacuum cleaner, and the man spent his life building things and taking them apart, after all. He'd figure out it needed to be sacrificed to the Cleaning Gods, eventually. Which he did. Meanwhile, she and I finished up our areas, and got ready for the day.
Yesterday, Clara brought herself, and her mad cleaning skills -- and my cats. I couldn’t wait. I missed them so much, and it's only been two days. It will really be home when they're here. I kept walking around, picturing them sleeping in this little corner here, perched on that bookshelf there...sunning themselves in the windowsills, enjoying the porch when it's warm out...
There's so much to do. I got a call from the Social Services agency that Martin the Art Therapist works for -- it seems he got me bumped to the head of the line, because the director called me straight away. She is going to have two case workers assigned to me, which is fantastic. Mental health and then SSRI assistance, I believe. It pays to be chummy with the right people in this business, on the other end of it, for all these years. If there's one good thing about having the Brain Cooties in this city, there are a ton of social services available, if you know where to look, are sober, and are willing to be responsible for your med compliancy. And if you know me, I've always been a big proponent of Better Living Through Chemistry. In the 90s, I studied for a degree in Abnormal Psych (which is what it was called at the time, relax) at Colombia and Loyola in Chicago, because I'd spent my pre-teen and teenage years caring for a schizophrenic great-aunt, and dealing with the whims of my diagnosed NPD mother, and figured I had an advantage over most students through the sheer insanity of my family dynamic. Eventually, after several years, I had to quit school to manage my son's care, who had a plethora of mental health and addiction issues -- then eventually took the job with Clara working directly with her mentally ill son.
What I hadn't counted on was having to deal with my own wonky brain chemistry, and emotional dyregulation. Part of the unspoken deal of having to manage everyone else's serious mental illness is that you can sort of forget your own brain cooties exist. It's been a long time since I've been in a really bad place, mentally.
Over the years, I've discovered the hard way that self-medicating the Brain Cooties is the road to misery -- both my own and everyone within striking distance -- and self-awareness paired with modern psychiatry is the road to freedom. At least, as close as people with mental illness can get to it.
Speaking of, as an example; I'm titrating my mood stabilizer/migraine medication, topiramate, up to 200mgs -- right now I'm at 100mgs, so the appetite (and disordered eating behaviors, along with it, HUZZAH) is starting to decrease, which means of course the migraines as well as general irritability are beginning to recede. One always indicates the other with this medication. Topiramate is one Helluva drug -- but worth it in so many ways. I was never meant to be off of it for so long, but when I lost my health care coverage, it was the first to go, because the out of pocket cost is so far beyond my reach it may as well be mined on Pluto. But, it seems to fit into some missing piece of my brain chemistry like a jigsaw puzzle, in weird, seemingly unrelated ways that just make my mind feel calmer. Less prone to flashes of rage.
The trouble is, it's never quite that simple when it comes to Brain Cooties. I was sending a couple voice DMs to people, because typing out shit is just too much trouble, while phone calls involving actual conversations are just too much of a commitment to the sort of immediate interaction I can't be bothered with, most of the time. Anyway, I played back a message to be sure I got all the information I wanted to convey, and imagine my absolute shock when I heard the playback, and my usually moderated, thoughtful, rather slow speech sounding as if it was being played back to me like a 33-speed record? I sounded like Alvin and the Chipmunks.
This is what's known in the Brain Cootie world as "pressured speech", and it happens when someone is in a manic or hypomanic episode. I experience hypomania, from Schizoaffective Bipolar Type disorder. Hypomania is a milder type of mania, meaning it isn't as severe, and only lasts a few days, typically. Still, I've never heard myself before when in the throes of an episode, and the most disconcerting thing about it was that to me, I sounded absolutely normal in my own head.
If that doesn't tell you how distorted one's thinking can be while in the grips of one's mental illness, even to a mild degree, then I don't know what will; and my doctors all tell me that I am a remarkably self-aware patient. While my brain might be conjuring quacking noises from the 147 Lake Shore Drive Bus (also known affectionately as the LSD, how appropriate), I also know that it is impossible for the bus to be quacking like a duck, and that it is indeed just my brain playing tricks on me again. Some people aren't so fortunate -- some people take their delusions at face value, which makes their lives a living nightmare that I cannot even imagine trying to manage without medication.
But I digress. The worst part about the 33-speed record voice messages? Nobody said a thing. And I sent severalmessages to several people in which I was speaking so fast, I was barely intelligible — imagine one of those Telemundo! commercials, only in English. Instead, they just ignored my messages. When I realized what was going on, I covered my ass with a couple of people who mattered with either a version of the truth, or -- if I trusted them with it, the unvarnished version. So, don't rely on other people to clue you in. On that note, over all the years I've been dealing with Brain Cooties, only ONE PERSON has bothered to tell me when I have had obviously pressured speech. One. Which is just one of the many reasons why I generally find People as a whole to be useless.
It's up to us to get our own shit sorted out.
I feel like I should repeat that. If you have The Brain Cooties, it is up to you to be responsible for your OWN MENTAL HEALTH. That means seeking treatment, and being med compliant. Unless of course you are at the point where you need a caregiver, obviously. But we aren't talking about that.
Because my doctors and I have been doing this for awhile, I have a stash of a particular, non-scheduled medication I keep on-hand for when I need to bring my brain down, fast. So, I took that, and will take it for the next week until I'm sure my Brain Cootie Swarm have receded back down to manageable levels. Risperdone is a very powerful, very serious drug that I just refuse to take every day, so my psych team allows me to only take it when the Cooties hit the fan. Were I sicker, or less educated in psychiatry/less self-aware, this of course wouldn't be an option. And if I were to slip and show myself to be irresponsible, I'd end up in the looney bin and having to take it every day, whether I like it or not. So, I don't abuse my privilege. When I need the meds, I need the meds.
One of the few people I look up to in the world of Brain Cooties, Jared Poore (now sadly retired from social media, and I do hope he's OK), once said;
"Things like mental illness, crippling neuropathy, epilepsy, and frequent, blinding migraines can’t be dealt with by gentle hugs, prayer and pretty angels, or the fad diet of the week with a basket full of overpriced supplements. Like a lot of aspects of life where you have to make a decision between two options, your only choice is to figure out which one is going to suck less”
The reality is, a lot of these psych meds have side effects that truly suck. They can be gross, embarrassing, inconvenient, even funny, or just fucking weird. But I can guarantee you that 99.999999% of the time, it's far better than the alternative that your untreated brain is offering, if you let it go long enough when you are suffering from schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, or schizoaffective disorder. Don't think so? Then you obviously haven't hit Brain Cootie rock bottom, yet. You've never gotten sick enough where you've been held on a 5150 in a locked ward, surrounded by people who talk back to the voices in their heads, and finger-paint with their own shit. You've never gotten so sick, you've been homeless.
You've never become a danger to yourself or others.
I have a really hard time taking seriously people with mental or emotional disorders who refuse to get treatment, and scoff at medication. Who give up after trying one or two combinations of medications because "it didn't wooooorkk!!" Most people don't give it enough time, first of all. It takes at least a month for the brain to adjust to a new medication, and only then can you even start to see if it's going to work for you, or if it needs an adjustment, etc. I've been doing this my entire adult life, and I've had just as many bad experiences as good -- I've still not found an SSRI that doesn't make me feel like shit after a few months. But there are new breakthroughs all the time. New drugs. New therapies. And mental health does not thrive on anti-depressants alone.
Crazy bitches like me don't need to end up homeless, dead, or in prison. And neither do you. Because there's no real limit to where you might end up if you take care of yourself and get treatment. But the options if you let your mental illness go untreated? We already know where that leads.
So take your damn meds.
Oh, yeah -- and the next time you hear an otherwise normal-sounding woman suddenly speaking like a 33- record? FUCKING TELL THEM.
Because there but for the grace of god, my little kumquats...
If you enjoy my writing, please consider donating to my GoFundMe by following the link below -- I am taking the next year (which likely means two) as I wait for my disability to kick in to write a book on the unique culture, people, and places of Rogers Park, Chicago. I have my first two interview volunteers, as a matter of fact, which is so fantastic! Thank you so much for your support, to all who have donated thus far. I appreciate you so much. XO
1 note
·
View note
Text
Tokyo Revengers Boys with a s/o who competes in dirt bike competitions
Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya, Baji
TW: none
---
Mikey
Mikey would only find out when he had come around to your house for the first time.
You had left your boyfriend in your room alone as you went to collect some refreshments for the two of you. Mikey had taken this as an opportunity to look at the stuff you had displayed on your shelves.
Books, mangas, the usual stuff he would expect in a middle schoolers room. That was until he noticed the trophies you had standing together on the shelf over your desk.
Curiosity got the better of him as Mikey reached out to take one of them to inspect. Just as his hand connected with the nearest one, the door to your room opened to reveal you with your arms filled with packets of snacks.
"You wanna look at them?" Even though you had caught the blond snooping, you weren't in the slightest annoyed. In fact, you hated to admit that a bubble of pride had surfaced in your chest at the fact he was trying to look at your trophies.
Mikey simply nodded, bringing the one trophy in his hand off the shelf so that he could examine the engraving. It surprised him to see that it was a first place award for a dirt bike MX race. After all, you didn't have a bike, right?
"You ride dirt bikes?" You simply gave a grin before confirming that you in fact did.
The rest of his time at your house was spent with you showing off your dirt bike and explaining all of your trophies. Mikey would be a proud boyfriend at your accomplishments, so much so where he bragged about you to most of Toman.
Will be the type of boyfriend who will drag his friends to your races just to cheer you on. He will always wait at the finish point to congratulate you, your favourite snack in hand.
Draken
You had gone to visit your amazing boyfriend at his bike shop, a bento made with care tucked in your backpack. This was a regular occurrence, so much so where Draken would be disappointed if you didn't come over as you had other things to do.
As you were off to practice for the next MX race taking place in a few weeks, you had decided to ride your dirt bike to the shop. Not thinking how Draken had yet to see your precious baby, you simply parked it right outside the shop opening.
"Kenny? Babe, I've brought you a bento!" You called out to the male, noticing his head pop up from behind some shelves of tools. You noticed how his eyes lit up when you had mentioned the bento, a small giggle escaping past your lips. He reminded you a little of young Mikey sometimes.
"Thanks babe," Draken placed a quick peck on your cheek, hands taking the box from your own before his eyes caught sight of your bike. Confused, he made his way towards the vehicle before looking around for the owner, even more confused when no-one but you had turned up.
"You like her?" You smirked in amusement at Draken's face as realisation hit him. His eyes widened slightly and he was speechless. He could never have guessed that his partner was into extreme sports like dirt bikes. "Anyway, Ken, I really need to head off to the track soon."
"Didn't realised you rode. When were you gonna tell me about this, huh?" You simply grinned sheepishly at your boyfriend, his amused smirk making your heart skip a beat. Your heart couldn't handle how much you loved the former delinquent.
After your 'secret' had been revealed to your bike loving boyfriend, he would accompany you when he could spare the time to watch you ride around the course. When you had races, he would attend each one, either by himself or with some of the other former Toman members.
Super proud boyfriend. He would provide free check ups for your bike, even adding his signature dragon tattoo on the sides so you are reminded of him every time you are riding.
Mitsuya
Mitsuya was planning on surprising you by turning up at your house unannounced, expecting you to be in your room doing some studying or more likely, binging your favourite show. After all, it was a Saturday and that is how you would spend your days without any plans.
So he was seriously surprised to turn up and find you tinkering with your bike, making sure that the parts were all in working condition. You didn't seem to notice your boyfriend pull up a few feet away from where you were working, your mind focused solely on the checks you had to complete.
"What you doing, sweetheart?" Mitsuya called out to you, trying to hide the amusement he felt when you jumped out of your skin. You seriously weren't expecting anyone to break your concentration, especially not your boyfriend. While it melted your heart that the boy had taken the time to come and visit you, you were trying to use your spare time to prepare for the upcoming MX race.
"Just making sure my bike is in competing condition..." You mumbled, glancing over to the purple haired male as he titled his head to the side a little. Since when did you ride? And especially a dirt bike? Competing? Too many questions were filling Mitsuya's head at what you had replied with.
"Competing?" Turning your attention away from the machine towards Takashi, you gave a small smile as your mind relaxed. You felt like you could breathe now that your loving boyfriend was around and your thoughts weren't filled with what ifs.
"There's an upcoming race that I have entered. I just need to make sure my bike is in good enough condition to ride," and with that explanation, a small smile graced the boy's face. He had a mixture of feelings bubbling inside him; part of him was proud that you rode as well, but another part was concerned over you getting hurt.
The conversation you both had revolved around your riding and racing experience, explaining how you had won a few small competitions when you were younger and just carried on the hobby. Your eyes seemed to shine the more you recollected memories of your past races, Mitsuya noted. His heart fluttered as he watched how enthusiastic you were when talking about dirt bike riding.
When the race had come along, Mitsuya had convinced a few members of Toman to join him and his sisters in cheering you on. Would even design and make you a jacket for you to wear when riding. Proud boyfriend when he heard his friends say how good you were and even more when you had come in first. Quick to check you over for injuries and provide you with a bottle of water. His sisters thought it was so cool and insisted on coming along to watch you practice in the future.
Baji
You seemed to be getting more and more random bruises on your arms and legs, Baji noticed. He wasn't so much concerned as he was curious on where they were coming from. Were you out beating up gangs all on your own without him? If so, you had a lot of explaining to do as he would love to get in on that action.
Instead of asking you about them, he decided he would follow you in case his assumption was right and he could jump in to help. You had left school not that long ago, your boyfriend riding his motorbike while you clung to the back of him. Bidding you a usual goodbye with a kiss to your forehead, he was quick to hide himself and his bike behind a wall once you had entered your house.
It was really only a gamble if you would leave the house again. Baji knew this but his curiosity was keeping him there. However, the gamble paid off as you finally left your home on your bike.
That is what surprised the boy. You had never said you could ride. In fact, you usually rode behind him on his bike when you both went out for late night rides together. If he had known you could ride, he might have insisted on you riding your bike alongside him. After all, you both could race each other around Shinjuku.
Starting up his own bike again, he followed behind you as you were heading to your destination. The more he observed you on your bike, he could tell that you had been riding for a while. But he also noticed how your bike was different from the ones he and the others at Toman rode.
You arrived at the practice area you would frequently visit on your bike. Being a Freestyle dirt bike rider meant that you had to spend a lot of time perfecting your jumps and flips. Adjusting your helmet, you revved your bike and sped down the ramps, gaining enough momentum to send you in the air long enough to do your trick.
Baji had stopped a little way away from you, close enough where he could clearly watch you but out of sight so you didn't get distracted by seeing him. After all, he wasn't meant to be there. He couldn't believe him eyes though when he saw you performing some of the flips. You were amazing in his eyes, especially when you successfully landed. So this must be where your bruises were coming from.
The next day at school, Baji had confessed to you that he had followed you and saw you practicing on your bike. At first you were embarrassed, especially when he was gushing about how cool you were when completing your flips. Especially with how you were still so young and able to do these insane feats.
The next freestyle competition you had entered, Baji had dragged Chifuyu with him to support you and watch how amazing you were. While you didn't win, Baji couldn't be more proud of you and congratulated you for competing by peppering kisses all over your face. Definitely a boyfriend who would brag to anyone who would listen.
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers scenarios#mikey sano#mikey x reader#draken#draken x reader#ken ryuguji#ken ryuguji x reader#mitsuya takashi#mitsuya takashi x reader#keisuke baji#keisuke baji x reader#anime drabble
520 notes
·
View notes
Text
And If I Die Before I Wake
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: General
Ship: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Series: Fanzine Prompts
Word Count: 2,243
Other Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, The Mattress
Read on AO3
Summary: Every night, Yaz brings out the mattress and sits on it to watch the Doctor tinker with the TARDIS, listening while the Doctor tells her everything. Every night, the Doctor refuses to sleep until she's on the brink of collapsing. And then one night, the Doctor's finally ready to share some of the hardest parts of her story.
Written for @thirteenfanzine Prompt Week Day 3: Mattress.
NOTES: when i started writing this i was thinking "i've done enough emotional conversations, i'm going to write some fluff now." uh but guess what this turned out to be (hint: it's not fluff). as always thanks to the fanzine for enabling me every day
“What’s this, then?”
Dan’s voice came from across the room, but when Yaz looked up, she couldn’t see him. They were all three in the console room: the Doctor was fixing something or other under the console, and Yaz was sitting on the bottom step, trying to figure out what she was doing. Dan, on the other hand, was wandering around, exploring his surroundings.
Yaz stood up. “What’s what?” she asked, craning her neck to see if she could see where Dan was.
Dan popped out next to the doors. Right next to where they had—
“You’ve got a whole mattress back here. Were you aware of that?”
“Oh, yeah, ‘course we are,” Yaz said. “Right, Doctor?”
The Doctor jumped, turning her head wildly from where she was squatting by the console. “What?”
“Why have you got a mattress back here?” Dan asked. “Seriously, seems inconvenient.”
“Oi,” the Doctor said, standing up. “That’s there in case of emergency. And it’s been very useful, I’ll have you know.”
“What kind of emergency needs a mattress?”
“Honestly, mate,” Yaz said, “you’d be surprised.” The emergency, she didn’t add, was usually just that the Doctor refused to sleep until she had absolutely no choice, and eventually the TARDIS had given up and shoved a mattress into the console room.
“It’s an excellent landing pad,” the Doctor agreed as she crouched down again.
“If you say so,” Dan said, wandering away again, and the mattress was forgotten.
--
Until that night.
Dan went off to bed, or maybe to get lost in the corridors (the TARDIS hadn’t fully taken to him yet, but Yaz thought she’d get there soon enough), and Yaz was left in the console room with the Doctor. Things were still a little awkward between them: the Doctor had promised to tell Yaz everything, and she had been making good on that promise, but Yaz had spent three years without the Doctor. She was still getting used to being back in the TARDIS. And the Doctor seemed so delicate, so vulnerable; Yaz was afraid to reach out, for fear the Doctor might shut down again.
All the same, they’d settled into a routine. Every night, once Dan had gone to bed, Yaz pulled down the mattress and sat on the edge with her knees drawn up to her chest, watching the Doctor work. And the Doctor talked, telling Yaz stories from her past, good times and bad. This night was no exception.
Yaz pulled down the mattress, spread the blankets, fluffed up the pillows. The Doctor continued her tinkering. Yaz didn’t know what she did down there, underneath the console: the Doctor explained it to her every so often, but Yaz sometimes thought the Doctor just did it for something to do. The TARDIS never seemed to run any better— although to the Doctor’s credit, it wasn’t falling apart at the seams anymore— and the Doctor didn’t seem to mind her ship’s idiosyncracies. But she insisted on spending hours below the console anyway, tools scattered around her.
The first night, when they’d only just brought Dan on board, the Doctor had been too worn out to share much. She barely even tinkered: she just sat down next to Yaz, leaning back on her arms and staring up at the ceiling as she rambled on about the first time she’d met the weeping angels, being stuck in the 1950’s with a friend, trying to get the TARDIS back. It wasn’t everything, but it was enough, for that first night. And then she asked Yaz about her time in the 1900’s, and Yaz got halfway through a story about going to New York City with Dan and Jericho before the Doctor slumped to one side, asleep.
“All right, Doctor,” Yaz had whispered, easing the Doctor’s body backwards onto the soft mattress and draping a blanket over her form. “Good night, then.” And then Yaz had gone to bed in her own room, the day’s events swirling in her mind.
Now, though, the Doctor had more to say. She was wide awake, alert, rifling through the TARDIS’s insides and pulling out fistfuls of wires while she told Yaz about why she’d been looking for Karvanista.
“He was involved with Division,” she explained. She’d told Yaz about Division two nights ago, in between blows to the TARDIS with a hammer. How it was a secret organization. How she’d been a member, once, and then not, and how all she could remember now was the chaotic collection of images she’d gotten after being sent back in her own time stream. Now, she added, “I think he was involved with me at Division. I think we were friends. Or maybe partners. But he told me there was something in his brain— he can’t talk about it, or else he’ll die.”
“When’d he tell you that?” Yaz asked, trying to remember whether she’d been there.
“On the Sontaran ship.” The Doctor emerged from underneath the TARDIS, holding a thin strip of metal in one hand and a blowtorch in the other. “We had a short conversation. I still don’t get why he hung us over a pit of boiling acid— sorry about that, by the way— but at least I was on the right track in hunting him down.”
“Why is Division so secretive, then?” Yaz asked. “What’s their mission? Are they the ones who wiped your memory?”
The Doctor stiffened at that. For a moment, Yaz thought she’d gone too far: the Doctor was going to brush right past it, wave her hand, say it didn’t matter. But instead, she put down her strip of metal and her blowtorch, and she said, “Did I tell you about Tecteun?”
Yaz thought back. The name sounded familiar. Tecteun was the one who found me, the Doctor had said. When I was a child. She hadn’t gone into much more detail than that. She was still easing into it, slowly dipping her toes into the hardest conversations.
“You mentioned her,” Yaz said cautiously. “You said she found you as a kid.”
The Doctor nodded, her jaw set. “That’s her. She founded Division.”
“I’m guessing you’re not her biggest fan.”
The Doctor shook her head. “That would be an understatement.” She stepped closer. The mattress next to Yaz dipped as the Doctor sat down and fell backwards, lying down with her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Everything that happened to me— everything I don’t remember— it’s all her fault.” She spoke tonelessly, mechanically. “They made me an angel so they could take me to her.”
“Oh, Doctor,” Yaz said without thinking. “Are you okay?”
“When have I ever been?” The Doctor’s tone was empty.
Yaz stared. This was how she knew the Doctor was finally being honest: she wasn’t avoiding her feelings, wasn’t putting on a front. She was just placing one word after another, telling her story.
“She founded Division, apparently. It’s a Time Lord agency, originally. Grew into something much larger. Something that manipulated the universe to the Time Lords’ specifications. Ending in the Flux.” The Doctor took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “And starting with me.” Her eyes fell shut. “I never wanted it to be about me.” She opened her eyes again and pushed herself to a sitting position. “Tecteun’s dead, by the way. Swarm and Azure turned the Flux on her. I can’t ask her any more questions. Can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or not.”
“It sounds like she really hurt you,” Yaz tried. She was far out of her depth here, but she’d gone on a couple domestic violence cases when she was still police, and she still remembered the haunted looks in the eyes of the children. There was nothing worse, Yaz knew, than betrayal from a parent: betrayal from one of the only people who was supposed to always be there for you, to always protect you no matter what.
“I might’ve died,” the Doctor said. “If she hadn’t found me as a child, I might’ve died.” She hesitated. Closed her eyes. Took a shaky breath. “‘Course, it’s possible I can’t die. In which case all she did was hurt me. Very much. For her own gain.” The Doctor looked at Yaz, and Yaz could see in her unguarded expression so much raw emotion that she almost had to look away. But she didn’t. The Doctor was finally talking to her, and the least Yaz could do was hold her gaze as the Doctor asked, “Did I ever tell you about the timeless child?”
The phrase sounds familiar, but Yaz didn’t remember hearing it from the Doctor. She shook her head.
“It’s me.” The Doctor tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m the timeless child. In theory. It’s this old… myth, I suppose. This story. From the Time Lords. The story of their creation.” Her shoulders shook as she drew in another breath. “I am their creation, Yaz. They used me.”
Yaz inched slightly closer to the Doctor. “How do you mean, used you?”
“I’m not one of them, Yaz,” the Doctor said. “That’s the thing. Tecteun found me in some random part of the universe, and she took me in. And then when she discovered I wasn’t like her, when she discovered she could use me, she took the opportunity.” The word “opportunity” took on a bitter, ironic tone. “That’s me. Her opportunity. You know, regeneration isn’t part of Time Lord biology? It’s a privilege. Something you earn.” She laughed harshly. “Unless you’re me. I was born with it. I’m the one they stole it from.”
Regeneration. Yaz tried to remember what that meant— the Doctor referred to it, from time to time, usually flippantly. Half an hour ago I was a white-haired Scotsman, she’d said the first time they met. “Regeneration,” she said slowly. “That’s when you change bodies?”
“That’s it,” the Doctor said. “It’s something I was born with. A natural process, to ensure survival. Just like when you humans heal from a cut. But Tecteun—” She paused. Swallowed. “She made me do it over and over.”
“But isn’t it—” The horror of it all was beginning to sink in, weighing down Yaz’s lungs, taking her breath away. “She killed you.”
“I don’t remember it.” The Doctor waved a hand, clearly trying for her usual airy tone. “If I’m being honest, I think I’d prefer not to.” Her composure wavered, and she added, “I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“I’m so sorry, Doctor,” Yaz said, pouring emotion into her voice. It was so painfully inadequate, so much less than what the Doctor needed, but it was what Yaz had to offer.
The Doctor took a few shaky breaths, staring at something in the distance, on the brink of maintaining her composure, before tears began to roll silently down her face. Yaz reacted in a second: she wrapped her arms around the Doctor, holding the Doctor close against her side. She half expected to be pushed away, but the Doctor leaned into the touch, turning her face into Yaz’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she said through her tears.
“What for?” Yaz rubbed the Doctor’s back.
“Crying, mostly.” The Doctor’s words were disjointed, interjected by sobs and shaky breaths. “Making you comfort me, when I was just trying to tell you what you should’ve known way earlier. Everything, probably.”
“Well, I can see why you didn’t tell me earlier,” Yaz murmured. The full implications of what the Doctor had told her were only just beginning to sink in: it was so much worse than Yaz had been able to conceptualize. It didn’t fix the damage the Doctor had done by keeping Yaz in the dark— but at least Yaz understood why. “I still deserved to know what I was risking my life for, mind you.”
“I know,” the Doctor mumbled, her voice muffled by Yaz’s shirt. “I should’ve told you. It was just—”
“It’s a lot.” Yaz rested her head on the Doctor’s, staring out at the console room: the deep blue walls, the glowing orange central crystal. “I want you to understand,” she said. “I care about you, all right? A lot. I’m not just going to up and leave because you’re working through your childhood trauma.”
The Doctor’s shoulders shook, and Yaz could feel the dampness of tears soaking through her shirt.
“All right, come here,” she said, pulling the Doctor closer and guiding her body downwards until they were lying down, Yaz’s face inches from the Doctor’s. Despite the circumstances, Yaz felt a thrill run through her: she had spent three years waiting to see the Doctor again, hoping she would someday get a chance to be this close to her. Finally, her wish had been granted. The Doctor clung to her, her body shaking with sobs, and Yaz just held her, saying nothing, letting the Doctor feel.
“D’you want me to stay here tonight?” she whispered, as the sobs began to subside.
The Doctor nodded, the motion small enough that it might’ve been imperceptible had Yaz not felt it against her chest. “Don’t leave,” she whispered.
“All right, then.” Yaz pulled the blanket up to their shoulders, reaching over the Doctor to tuck it around her. “Good night, Doctor.”
--
And in the morning, when Dan walked into the console room and found Yaz and the Doctor lying on the mattress, fast asleep in each other’s arms, he had the good sense to say absolutely nothing about it.
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love Never Wins
Summary: Words will be said but do you really think either one of you mean them. Sometimes actions speak louder.
Warnings: slight angst
Characters: Loki, Thor, Y/n, Clint, avengers in the background here and there
Loki x you, Thor x you (platonic), Clint x you (brother,sister)
ANNOUNCEMENT: Not going to lie. This was going to be a simple short sweet straight to the point drabble but it turned into such a looooong one shot (i guess) I was in a good head space wgile writing this and just couldnt stop really. But it is something that I am very proud of.
ANNOUNCEMENT 2: I've had to make this a simple 2 part. I got way to carried away with everything in it!
Loki Masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What's going on with you?" You yelled as you grabbed Loki by the arm pulling him away from the girl who was obviously flirting with him and he with her.
"What are you talking about? We were talking." He yelled back.
"You were flirting Loki in front of everyone! Openly! Don't play me for the fool you think I am. You've been off lately. Not around as much, zoning out when we finally have some time together. If there's something you want to say tell me now." You felt the tears rush to your eyes. You had seen all the signs, hell you were an expert at the signs. Multiple boyfriends had given you the signs before but for some reason you though that maybe, just maybe, he was diffrent.
"I just feel like we've grown apart in the last few months y/n. I don't think I can do this anymore." he said simply.
"You said I brought out the best side of you, that I was the love of your life." You said tears streaming down your face now, to hell with the makeup you was wearing you wasn't going back to the party anyways.
"You're not." He stated simply clenching his jaw.
"Ok fine. It's not the first time I've been broken up with. Just the first time that I had ever put so much into someone that I truly did see a future with just to have my heart completely ripped out in front of me. You got me good this time trickster. Don't think I'll be able to fully recover from this one." You spat back at him before turning to head up stairs to your room that the two of you had shared for so long.
Luckily Tony hadn't done anything to the room you had once occupied on a lower level of the tower so you easily moved all of your clothing back into there in a matter of no time. You weren't use to the feeling of being alone but thats all you wanted right now for the rest of your life. The god of tricks had ruined other men for you, he had once shown you love like you had never felt, and now your heart broke like it had never broke before.
"Hey sis, noticed you weren't- oh god what did he do?" Clint asked walking into your room. "Knew something was up. I could feel it."
"Hawk stop with the twin shit, its creepy." You huffed whipping your eyes on the back your long sleeve hoodie.
"What happened? All I know is you two disappeared, he came back, you didn't, and he said I should probably find you in your old room." He sat down next to you.
"We broke up. Easy as that. Ya know I never understood why they say not to date your co workers till today." You shrugged turning to him. "When we first got together you hated it-"
"To be fair he did brainwash me."
"I didn't say you didn't have a right. We kept it from you for a while though. But we hadn't been together long, Hawk, I thought he was diffrent from any man I ever dated-"
"Well he is a god, kinda different."
"Would you shut up so I can vent just for a little bit then you can go back to the party."
"Na, parties lame anyways, I was thinking about hanging out here for a little bit." He said kicking his shoes off and proping his feet on the coffee table throwing his arms across the back of the couch.
"Whatever," you rolled your eyes as you snuggled into your brother. "He was so kind, gentle, he was paciant with me. He knew that me and you were close and he didnt wamt to get in the way of that. He wanted us to be closer than he and Thor was. I think it helped him realize just how important family is when you only have each other. We kept it a secret for so long though." You pulled the hood up closer to your face. You didn't want to admit to yourself but you had kept the jacket because it still smelled like him.
"Nat seen the two of you making out in the hall weeks before you told anyone by the way." He laughed pulling you closer to him. " I didnt say anything though because I knew you would tell me when you were comfortable with it."
"I love him so much and he played me. Completely tricked me into these feelings that I dont think will ever change." You sobbed wrapping your arms around his waist, he through his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer.
"Hes a dick with a god complex. Hes not good enough for you at all. Coming from a brother, a twin brothers point of view, I think you could do better. All is fair in love and war, but dont put it past me to be a little rougher on him during training, and I wont point anything out if you happen to let some bad guy kill him on the field." He said kissing the top of your head.
"Hawk, you know I'm not like that. I habe a reputation to up hold." You said slapping his arm before pulling away. "If you wanna stay theres still some of your sweats that I stole in the bedroom and ice cream in the freezer, but your sleeping on the couch. Its been since we were kids that we shared a bed but I bet you still kick."
~~~~
A few weeks had passed since you and Loki had called it quites. You had been mainly staying in your room trying not to cause any uncomfortable silence if you and Loki wede in the same room. On one occasion when you had ventured out to the living room you seen Loki holding an icepack to his eye and a busted lip, your first instinct was to rush over and make sure he was ok but instead you turned and took a seat between Thor and Clint.
"Lady Y/n, as always your peresnts lights up the room. We just havent been seeing much of it as of late." Thor greeted you with a warm smile throwing his huge arm ober your shoulder, making you look smaller than you already was.
"No more gods." Clint mumbled beside you.
"Thor is just a friend. One of the best I have." You laughed. "What happened?" Nodding toward Loki.
"Payback." He shrugged.
"Ah yes, it turns out Loki is not very good at hand to hand combat unles he is able to use his magic." Thor laughed. "I always tried to get him to train with me but he never did, turns out he probably should have."
"Oh for god sakes I'm right here and you three are not really whispering. I shouldn't have to learn hand to hand combat I have my sedair! I'm assuming it was just your brothers idea so that he could get back at me." He yelled.
"And you forget that there could come a time when you might need hand to hand. I told you many times that you needed to train but no mister 'I'm Loki prince of Asguard, burdened with glorious purpose', mister I have my magic. Bullshit. Your just sour because a mear mortal bested you at something. Grow a pair and learn how to actually fight." You jumped up. You had finally snapped. It had been coming tough sitting in you waiting for the right, or wrong, time to show up.
"You watch your tone!" He shouted jumping up. "I know how to fight better than half the people in here." Clint and Thor slowly stood watching the scene in front of them neither one know what to do.
"You know how to use your pixie dust to make things happen! Well guess what tinker bell this aint Neverland. We get in weird predicaments all the time you never know what to expect." You yelled back. "Hell Loki, your probably so bad at hand to hand even I could beat you."
"Oh your on. Training room, 30mins. That is unless your scared?" He said giving you a mischievous smirk.
"Trust and believe I'm not afraid of you by any means. No weponds, no sedair strictly hand to hand." You said turning on your heel to walk to your room to get ready leaving Clint and Thor standing alone in the living room aww struck.
"So what do we do?" Clint finally asked.
"Well of course we have to stop this. It will not end very well." Thor answered.
"So tell the others?"
"Yes you tell the others I will get refreshments for the battle." They took off in seprate directions.
#loki and thor#loki avengers#loki fanfic#loki fanfiction#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#loki x reader#loki daily#loki#loki angst#lokilaufeyson#loki one shot#loki fandom#loki x y/n
137 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part 3. Whisky and cute. Smutty thoughts.
With one arm still wrapped around her shoulder Vik grabbed the whisky off his desk with his free hand, glove clinking against the glass bottle, and walked her through the back.
It wasn't much, but he had an old worn in leather couch where he originally thought he would take breaks. But seeing that he usually ate and tinkered at his desk in front of an old fight, the couch was mainly used after closing. It's the kind of couch that's been sat on a thousand times, napped on for hundreds, and was still too comfy to throw out.
The seats were full of pitts and scrapes from from where he had sat down with something sharp still poking out of a pocket. there was a deep dent on the side that Jackie favoured, all his excited fidgeting had a tendency to leave lasting impressions. One of the arm rests had a strange flat smooth spot where bottles of whisky and beer had been carefully balanced over the years, and the other had a swooping crater where the memory of Viks tired head was left indefinitely.
It had been a week since she was last in. Since he sat her down and told her he cared for her. In all, that wasn't really a shock, he was warm hearted and she knew he cared, he cared for all his friends. Vik was someone you counted on. The shock to her system was how it was said. He wasn't just handing off information, it almost felt like a proposition. As if he was offering her a reason to look after herself.
She had definitely been thinking, and over thinking on his words. She couldn't just turn up to say "hey" after that. She didn't want to be over eager and under wanted. His birthday was such a perfect reason to pop by though, it wasn't even an excuse-it was an ACTUAL reason.
"You haven't dropped in all week. I thought you might have been avoiding me?"
As she heard the words, a black hole opened in her chest, sucking her stomach and heart into oblivion for a few seconds. His forearm was resting sluggishly on her shoulder as they walked, which was making it hard for her to concentrate anyway...a smell of hot metal, antiseptic and pheromones mixed with a fresh sweat was evaporating from his arm. She could feel an olfactory memory being created each time she breathed him in.
"Really vik?! You are getting old. You don't remember when I came in and paid you every eddy I've ever owed you? Then you took me to dinner? Bought me flowers?"
She slunk from under his arm and picked her feet off the floor as she threw herself back and shoulders first onto the couch. Her head firmly nestled into the Vik dent.
"Did everyone ask if I was your Dad?" It was a quick response, because it had been something on his mind before. He was an actual age to be her father. It certainly wasn't the only thing stopping him from acting on his desires, but it was a major one. He watched her hair float up as head hot the couch, as if waves were engulfing her.
"Grandpa!" She responded raising her eye brows and giving him a nod as he picked up a leather pouch from the surgical table in the corner.
Vik mimicked being punched in the gut and let out a growling "Ooft kid!" As he planted himself next to her with an empty thud. When his 200 pound of muscle hit the seat, it dropped a good six inches beneath him, and in turn, her hips cooked and she fell into his thigh.
She steadied herself by wrapping her hand around his forearm. It shouldn't have been as exciting as it was, but his arms did things to her. She could watch him working all day, when his fingers moved and grabbed the muscles just below his elbow stretched and rippled like a machine. He didn't realise it, but she was tracing the movements over his tattoos.
"Grandpa eh? THAT I would have remembered" he swallowed his words as she stroked his arm with her thumb. He wondered of she knew what she was doing to him right now. Her fingers slightly tugging at his tired and sore arm, whilst her thighs pushed against his leg. He wished to have that thigh in his grasp, and her fingers exploring his chest. He wanted to know exactly how much of her he could hold at once. That sweet spot where her thighs and ass met..she was thickest there, he wanted to cradle her and find out how well she would fit in his hand.
He felt his whole body reacting to the though and he swallowed once more, moving his arm ever so slightly trying to reach his exo glove without breaking the skin to skin contact.
"YOUR BIRTHDAY" Came the squeel from next to his ear. She had the lungs of a whale sometimes.
Her hands grabbed his leg and she jumped on her knees next to him, she didn't realise how far down her hands were going go, but she gave him a little squeeze before she bounded off
"I'm gonna get your box!"
He would have smiled at her giddied charm if he wasn't too busy trying to will all his blood back to its rightful places. She must have realised where her left hand landed. Her finger tips touched so far into his thigh that they grazed the seam of his pants, and if she would have stretched her pinky out an inch, she would have felt a waking dragon, who he had no doubt, would have been stirred from her touch.
As she returned she watched him folding leather around his exoglove. She was wondering if she had made him uncomfortable with her touch, but that fear faded when he flashed her a big Vik smile. Fear that was replaced with butterflies.
He sat the pouch on the soft bit of the arm rest, and felt his heart race as he waited for her to come close again. He expected her to sit next to him, but she walked in front of him, her shoulders square with his, though much more slender. She looked down at her gift and then at Vik without moving her head as she handed it to him. She gave him big eyes, full of wonder and life. He took the box from her hands, not breaking eye contact for even a split second.
"The whisky was enough you know, this better be something shitty and little"
"I'm shitty and little" she sounded proud at this realisation.
"Just open it Vik" she said as she grabbed the bottle of whisky and started to unscrew the lid.
"Haha" he chuckled deeply "Ok, ok. You can be such a brat sometimes" his smile reflecting his adoration of that quality.
She sat next to him again, ankles tucked under herself and watched him fumble with the ribbon and paper.
She took a huge gulp of whisky as he laid his eyes on her gift.
"V"
Was all he could muster.
"C'mere" he said as he wrapped his arm around her. His inner elbow caressed the back of her neck and pulled her head to tuck under his chin.
In his hand he held a whisky glass, with a thick heavy bottom and the letter V etched onto the side in a gothic font. A single boxing glove hung off the thin arm of the V.
"It's a V. For Viktor....And the other has a V on it as well!"
"For Viktor" he laughed and repeated her.
"No, you gonk" she pulled back and looked at him, her face squished, as if he had completely missed something.
Maybe the other V is for her. For V.
"For Vektor"
She cupped his left cheek in her hand and pulled his face toward her parted mouth. As their skin touched, she pushed her parted lips gently into his stubble, but hard enough to smoosh the side of his face. Her smooth lips left a wetness on his face that he wished he could fell between his own lips.
"Happy Birthday, Viktor Vektor"
she cooed to him as she felt the heat radiating from his cheek.
"Where the fuck are you at birthday boy!"
Jackies voice boomed from the front door.
"Viky! V said she would meet us here for a drink" Came Mistys call.
He tilted his head back and bellowed
"IM BEING SHOWERED WITH BIRTHDAY KISSES. ITS HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE, HELP!"
She gave him a sharp jab in his arm before she ran around to jump onto jackie.
Vik poured himself a whisky. He heard the familiar sound of her body impacting Jackie's chest mid-air.
"AND GET YOUR OWN FUCKING GLASSES"
#cp2077#cyberpunk 2077#viktor vektor#viktor vector/reader#viktor vektor fic#viktor vektor x reader#cyberpunk viktor
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
in lieu of a commonplace book goes off-grid!
9:30pm, march 13, 2021
composing this while stretched out on the floor of a cottage in the wilds of middle ontario
reading three chapters into the news of the world, which i've been saving for a particular kind of mood and atmosphere. this quiet weekend, 48 hours out of the city with my other housemates with my phone largely off or on airplane-mode, felt like the right time. i want to get further into it before i develop my thoughts, but i'm already invested in figuring out the choice to not use quotation marks for dialogue? to flatten out the differences between dialogue and narration? but then to italicize internal monologues, sometimes, or words spoken in other languages-- which I guess is trying to do the same thing, in making transparent thoughts that would ordinarily be blocked, except typographically it sort of undoes that by marking them as distinct?? having everything unmarked, just left undifferentiated, is the kind of disorienting that i am academically super into and at the same time seems like a way to create some confusion or mystery, uncertainty, in a reader who's used to having those visual cues. it's a book about reading-aloud, the choice to not mark verbalized speech on the page feels so implicated in that, and I just. want to understand more.
listening have i brought up autoheart in one of these posts yet? no? some algorithm something from spotify brought them to my attention this time last year, and i have cycled through four or five of the tracks from their first album absolutely incessantly since then. this week, their song agoraphobia has been absolutely living in my head rent free-- it's melodic, it 's got a melancholy lilt, repeating the lyrics i don't really want to go anywhere became a quasi-mantra this time last year (as i was dealing with the first round of lockdown and the feelings of the-outside-world-is-cruel-and-threatening inspired by that...) and haven't really stopped being relatable since then.
watching the cottage where my housemates and i have retreated this weekend has a singularly odd dvd collection, and when we got in lateish last night we just opted to throw one on while eating. there are absolutely parts of my big fat greek wedding that don't hold up, that are sort of ham-fisted or so broad as to be offensive, but...the tone is still so sweet? despite the cheese, despite the sort-of shallow plot.
playing the only game i've played all week, apart from more dnd, was 20 questions in the car yesterday. important to remember: ask whether the person is thinking of an abstract concept, or a category of thing, or a concrete item! this is my pro-tip.
making home depot order came in on thursday, and when picking it up i realized that they were also open for in-store shopping, and so stood deliriously in the garden center for like 20 minutes, examining seeds. brought home my new set of clamps and started gluing the coffee table back together, which ended up involving more disassembly than i was anticipating? but that allowed me to understand the problem better and take out some stripped screws, and slap some glue into key areas. it's had all weekend to cure, while we've been away and not in need of a coffee table. this plus the book in reading have been a one-two combination of feeling close to my grandfather, it's been a week of that for sure. i'm the third generation to tinker with this particular table, i think, and there's something about seeing the extra bits that my father, my grandfather, added, which feels like talking to them.
working on i graded undergrad project drafts and did RA work this week to the complete neglect of my actual reading fuck! what is a reading schedule? staying on track? never heard of her. it's time for the middle english portion of the program, and jeez i'm behind, i still haven't touched a ton of the secondary scholarship on the middle welsh hahahahahahahah rip me!
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yootip Week 2019 Day 6 "Perspective"
By Kimione (Yootip Amino)
"It's okay. Thanks for the ride."
His eyes narrowed at her dismissive tone and he couldn't help the raising suspicion that she was lying. He always had a remarkable talent of detecting lies and this intuition had never failed him so far. His eyes followed her receding back, that stubborn set of shoulders, the disheavled hair but the girl didn't even spare him a backward glance.
Kousuke's eyes narrowed to a slit. She was a stubborn person but he wasn't someone who easily gives up either. He wasn't a force to be underestimated. If one thing is true about Kousuke Hirahara, it is that he gets his way once he sets his mind to it.
With a firmer resolve, he swerved the car towards a nearby parking slot and killed the engine. Within moments, he found himself inside the hospital lobby and it didn't take him long to determine that the girl in question was nowhere in sight. He slowly made his way to the reception counter in the rear part of the room where a nursing staff was engaged in a deep conversation with the receptionist, his eyes still scanning the area for a silhouette in black dress.
"Excuse me, but could you tell me where Mr Yoo is currently posted? I've been told that he works the night shift in the capacity of a nursing staff of this hospital." Kousuke queried.
He was momentarily taken aback by the brief gasp that ensued from the man in green scrubs.
"You.. You.. I mean.. How on earth..?!" he sputtered incoherently.
Kousuke frowned. Has he seen this man somewhere? The face did look vaguely familiar but he couldn't quite place it. His patience was already growing thin at his sluggish response. For all he knew, he was wasting valuable time over some incompetent employee.
Thankfully, the receptionist chose that moment to intercede on the nurse's behalf.
"I'm afraid Mr Yoo is on a leave of absence in light of his recent medical condition. It is difficult to say when he'll report back for duty"
Kousuke took a sharp breath.
So he was right all along. The girl is a terrible liar.
He couldn't help the momentary disappointment that surged inside him. She really didn't trust him enough. But again, he couldn't exactly blame her after what had ensued in the hospital hours earlier.
"Can you at least tell me where he's been admitted?" he inquired.
The lady raised an eyebrow at his presumption but smoothly denied the request since it's against the hospital policy.
"That's alright. I understand", Kousuke nodded briefly. Frustration and impatience was waging a war inside him. If only he had managed to convince her in the car. He should have known better. Her pride is like a double edged sword.
Sparing a transitory glance at the other person in the vicinity (who was slowly getting redder with some kind of indignant expression), Kousuke directed his attention to the visual sign board to the right. And his breath caught in his throat. He could have sworn that he saw a trail of black skirt disappearing around the corner.
"If you'll excuse me", he hastily murmured before chasing that brief glimpse. Shin ae still must be feeling quite sluggish to still be around. He rounded the corner to find a stark white corridor paving the way to a set of private rooms. His mind raced, quickly assessing his options as he made his way down the passage in a near frenzy. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. That girl wasn't Shin ae afterall. Frustration engulfed him at the thought of hitting a dead end. He was nearly at the end of the aisle when he heard a familiar voice seeping out through the door ahead. He probably wouldn't even have caught it if it wasn't for the near complete pin drop silence in the vicinity.
To his surprise, the door was partially ajar, letting some light seep in while the rest of the room was plunged in darkness. The girl he was seeking had not even bothered to turn on the lights. Her back was facing the doorway and Kousuke had never seen a more defeated silhouette as Shin ae cried inconsolably over her father's supine profile.
"Who am I kidding? I should have never gone. Everything was supposed to be fine after yesterday night but nothing is! I should have been truthful to you from the start instead of trying to handle things on my own! I should have never gone behind your back to work! You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me! " her cries pierced the still air with a heart wrenching pitch.
"I'm so sorry."
She looked so small and so completely, utterly defeated as her tiny frame rocked with tears and despite Kousuke's every attempt to remain detached and clinical, his heart couldn't help but ache at such a despondent sight. . He clenched his fist as it almost defied logic and wished to reach out to her.
Behind that carefully preserved strong facade, lied a lonely girl who could also crumble easily to pieces. The shoulders that defied even gravity itself were forced to droop down. Hopelessness, despair and loss engulfed her in a tight vice like hold. It's a sad sight to see anyone break, but one as headstrong as Shin ae who faces every challenge head on? The sight is borderline tragic. It felt like a cruel mockery by fate.
She slowly quietened down to incomprehensible sobs as she laid her head on the only family she had in the world, the only person she could count on. Unknowingly to her, there was a shadow enveloping her from behind. A shadow that noticed her in her weakest moment, when she poured out her real self. A shadow that symbolically had her back when she cried herself to sleep, that slowly receded from the room to do some tinkering with the fate itself, for her.
Kousuke drove away that night but his mind was buzzing with words and memories.
"He still has feelings."
"You had me think your son would face backlash from everyone. I couldn't let that happen. Especially if it was due to me in the first place."
"Can't you see your son is uncomfortable?!"
"You took advantage of my situation."
"All this time I thought your son will lose his job because of me."
"But you should talk to him about these things. Let him have a say."
"Would you have given me a job as a favour?"
She had reached out to him in her moment of need and he had proved that her hope was misplaced.
Her words replayed in his mind. She had subjected herself to utter misery so that he could keep his job. She had fought for him, stood up for him when he never even asked her to, when the thought of someone caring for him never even crossed his mind. He had thought that every person has to look out for himself for so long that he himself had forgotten how deeply impactful it is to realise someone cares. No one ever thought he needed that, least of all he himself. Until she came along.
She had tried to shield him in her own way. And it was time that he returned the favour. He could make sure that she's shielded from harm as long as he's out there looking after her from the shadows.
His mind started formulating possible steps to achieve the goal.
A phone just for her. A post right under him. A social help organization.
The rational part of him reasoned that he owed her that much at the least and a small, unreasonable part of him cared enough too.
And knowing Kousuke, he always gets his way when he sets his mind to it.
Fin.
94 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day Unknown. Sat, Sep 26, 2020.
Nervous about randomly hiding in 4G Motorsports parking lot, I'm awake a few short hours later around 6:30. I have the tent packed by 8:30, and huddle beside the bike, waiting for staff.
9:00 rolls around and I approach the doors, making my way back to the Parts/Service desk. A young woman who's family shifts her between Alberta and Toronto seems thrilled to meet someone else from Ontario. We check if they have a replacement battery in stock. They do not. And their mechanics are not in on the weekends.
But!
There's a MAGNACHARGE Battery megaemporium RIGHT across the street!
Heartened my luck might be improving, I trot over.
Nope.
They're closed on weekends.
I trot back to 4G, on the way calling Riverside Honda in St. Albert, the blokes who'd changed my tires. They sold their last YTZ14S on Friday. BUT they'd ordered more and they should arrive at the start of this coming week.
I run over my problems with their parts guy. He suggests I remove the battery and try starting the bike with another random battery attached; That might be able to isolate if it is my battery or my starter system/charging stator/rectifier/words.
Sounds good.
Back at 4G I ask if they have a charger or a booster. The parts girl knows where a tender is, but not how to use it. It's okay, I do. They graciously let me push the bike inside their service bay so I can tinker on it, good thing too as it starts to drizzle outside.
So! My battery: Out and Charging.
My bike: New battery hooked up to test the ignition.
My key: In the ignition, turning to activate the bike-*Crack*.
One of the few flaws I've found with the NC750 design is the key is needed in a secondary lock. Turn one way to unlock the frunk (front trunk) where the gas tank USUALLY sits on a motorcycle. Turn the other way to unlock the latch securing the passenger seat, this allowing you to lift it up to reveal the gas cap to fill the tank, which sits under the rider. The problem with this lock is the key does not fully insert. It's about 3/4 depth to the ignition proper.
Over time, this has created something of a weak point on the key itself, occasionally twisting ever so slightly if too much pressure is applied, if the latches are sticky, or the frunk is overfull and a bit jammed. This was usually corrected by sticking the key in and turning it the other way, straightening the blade out again. For this trip, due to the tail luggage making lifting the passenger seat incredibly difficult at best, I had opted to outright remove the pillion cover, leaving the gas cap exposed for easy access. All I needed the secondary lock for was to get in and out of the frunk, which I was doing several times a day to fetch out Goose and Hat, or store drinks, or change power banks.
Perhaps it was this excess of one direction twisting that finally did the blade in.
Perhaps it was just six years of use and wear.
Perhaps life just wanted to take the difficulty level up a notch.
In any event.
I was left holding the top quarter of my key. The remainder still inside the ignition. Even if I can get a new battery, I can now no longer turn on the bike.
My coworker who helped fund this adventure texts me to see how things are going. I tell him my key just snapped in half. He says if I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. We discuss options. I'm 3,505 km from home. I'm 427 km from the nearest Honda dealership. I just want to Abandon Quest and Hearthstone out of here, but that's not an option. So I work through various plans.
I call Riverside back and get the Service department. Nick remembers me. I fill him in on the last twelve hours. "Wow." Indeed. He puts me on hold and consults his coworkers. If I can get it there, they'll try and squeeze me in and get this sorted. Some people have good luck using super glue to get broken keys out and then jury rigged back together. With my luck, I'll make a mess and fuse the tumblers and need an entirely new ignition system. The key is also a newer blade style, not a normal tooth house lock key. It's supposed to be stronger, amusingly enough. But it's not the sort of thing local locksmiths should be able to replicate, it needs a Dealership. So even if I got a Fort McMurray locksmith to fish the main part out, if he can't make a new one, I still can't Go.
AND there's the pressing matter of the battery.
During all this my battery on the tender has completed charging. I restore it into the bike, or try to, as the damn nut in the contact for the red lead slips out of the holder and falls precisely through the ONE (1) hole at the bottom of the compartment and somewhere onto the engine block. I don't hear it hit the belly pan, and wedging my fingers into every nook, curve and cranny yields nothing but grimy hands.
I call CAA anew. I get the same woman as the night before, so that helped since she already knew the first part of this story. I now have Multiple Problems that can not be fixed locally. St. Albert is outside the Alberta tow range of 350km. But my membership is from Niagara, and I'm covered for 500km. She calls them to approve it. They say 'of course'. One hurdle down.
She contacts the tow company. New hurdle.
Due to the nine hour round-trip commute, they don't run every single broken vehicle south to Edmonton every time someone breaks down. They wait for multiple items, load them all on a long truck, and do a couple runs a week. So. Yes, they can get my bike to St. Albert. Eventuallllyyyyy.
I get it; from a logistics and efficiency and financial perspective it makes perfect sense.
From a "but... my bike..." and waiting for a nebulous amount of time in a hotel somewhere just for it to get TO the mechanics, nevermind the unknown timeframe of the shop having time to look at it, figure out what's wrong, order new parts if needed, and install them.... Hrrrggggnnnnn.
So EMI came with the short bed and picked up the bike from 4G. The logic being, now it's in their secure compound, ready to go, and when they have a load ready, they'll shove it on and take it south for me. Solid.
How do -I- get back to Edmonton.
Well, there's several buses that run the corridor, presumably for the mine workers to get up and back around their shift days. Awesome!
Oh but they don't run again until Monday. Less awesome!
But what can you do.
My bike won't leave until monday at the /earliest/ anyway, so me being there any sooner really makes no difference.
I book a ticket - cheap at 65$! For a nearly five hour trip? I paid 85$ plus tip for the 20 minute taxi ride from Supertest Hill to Fort McMurray the night prior.
Leaving Monday at 8:30am, arrive near downtown Edmonton. Found a hotel for 80$ within a block of Riverside Honda, not as cheap as my beloved Whitemud, but Whitemud Inn being at the south center of the Edmonton bubble, I'd be paying more than the 15$ a night difference in a cab to get up to St. Albert region. So I'll be right nearby the bike if we can get it going, or I need something from my bags.
In the meantime.
I found an RV campsite literally next door to the bus stop. I called the owner and explained my experiances, and my need for somewhere to simply hide in a tent until Monday morning. Sure, I could try and hide -anywhere-, but for my own safety, and nerves, if I can do this cheap and legal, the better for it. She says she can help me out. She offers a site for a price considerably cheaper than the nearby hotels, which I of course agree to. It's a twenty minute walk from 4G, made longer by hauling two drybags of tent/sleeping bag and essentials, and a third partial of food. Plus wearing my gear. And being somewhat small and scrawny. I take several rests. I drink my Gatorades. I make it. She has the sweetest tabby cat with white socks, no tail, and the SOFTEST fur. Name 'Trouble'. Awwww.
Transaction complete, I set up my tent, kindly serenaded by a curious magpie.
I hear a nearby RV owner pull up, truck doors closing, and then I see a giant white monster making a beeline straight for me. My best guess would be Lab/Samoyed. The head was very much the rectangle block and jowls of a lab, but the pelt was definitely a living cloud. It gives an very quick sniff at my tent, and promptly accepts me petting it. I realize I've been pet-starved during my journey. All my stress is put on pause as I scruffle the heck out of this random dog's sides. In fact, twice I tried to move one hand to teach for my phone for a photo, and he turned in annoyance to see why I'd partially stopped. I hear a woman calling, and ask if he needs to go. He makes no move. In fact he tries to push backwards closer. On a whim, I drop to my rear and make a bowl with my legs. He promptly fills said bowl with his rump. Me on my butt and him on his haunches, I came up to his shoulders.
Good dog.
A woman shouts again, more insistent. I give him a bump with my leg. He resigns himself to getting up and heading home. I realize the owner can't see us, so I pop up and apologize for stealing her dog. She realizes he hadn't just ran off for no reason, and laughs, saying he loves people. Yes, I had learned this.
I needed that.
There's a valley beside the camp ground.
The trees are spent matchsticks, grey and charred and empty against the sky. New growth slowly fills in around the dead wood. I don't know if this is a remainder of the BIG fire of 2016, or another more recent event. It's a staggering amount of devastation, and only a small fragment of the damage done.
The clouds out here... I love skyscapes.
Beautiful.
1 note
·
View note
Note
Hello fellow sick fic blog! Names Bridget! Alright, I've read your stuff. And it's A+ work. I love it!! Now in the voltron fandom there's much hype for sick Lace, Keith and Shiro. Can I file a request for one sick green paladin?Maybe some nausea and vomiting on her part? Keith or Lance taking care of her maybe? Thanks!
Green Gills
A/N: Aw, thank you! To be fair, I’m also on the sick Keith/Lance/Shiro train, but on this blog, everyone gets tummy aches. Caretaker Keith is quickly becoming my favorite.
The food goo was hard for everyone to get used to. It was a had a jello-like consistency, but had differing flavors from bite to bite, and sometimes a paladin would get lucky and find something suspended in it. Coran insisted it was edible, and by definition, it was. Nevertheless, the paladins were hesitant.
But after weeks and weeks aboard the castleship, the food good started to grow on them. It became more of a symbol of safety and comfort than a meal. Having the food goo meant they were all together and not under the threat of Zarkon, at least for the moment. It was a welcome part of their new lives in space. For the most part.
When a plate of it was set in front of Pidge, she found that she was the lucky one. Something jiggled in the middle of the goo, something only slightly darker than the goo itself. She picked it out with her spoon.
“Coran, what even is this?”
The ginger Altean looked over. “Oh, that’s just some calcified protein! It’s what happens when the goo dispenser isn’t cleaned out properly and some is left on the nozzle. It’s good for you!”
Pidge narrowed her eyebrows. She wasn’t sure if protein could actually calcify, but Altean science had proved her wrong before. With a reluctant shrug, she put the spoonful in her mouth. The protein crunched oddly against her teeth as if a fruit gummy had been left out to harden for years. She quickly washed it down with more goo and put it out of her mind.
The dishes were washed and put away, and everyone went to their individual chambers. Pidge showered off the training sweat from earlier in the day and found herself feeling heavy around her middle. She wondered if Coran had messed with the food goo dispenser again, it wouldn’t have been the first time. Or if Hunk had modified the ingredients. Either way, Pidge felt as though she ate double what she actually had. She changed into comfortable pajamas, popped two Altean antacids that Coran provided the paladins, and sat down at her desk to continue tinkering with Altean tech.
It must’ve been hours before Pidge came up for air. She was so focused in her investigation that she didn’t feel her stomach tossing and turning. When she finally set down her tools, she finally noticed how uneasy she felt. Globs of saliva were hard to choke down, and a strange wave of heat ran down her spine, somehow leaving her shivering. With a few deep breaths, she composed herself, wondering how the nausea had crept up so fast.
“It’s fine,” she muttered to herself, “I’ll feel better in the morning.” She took two more Altean antacids, downed some water, and settled into bed. It took longer than usual to fall asleep while her stomach rolled and bubbled, but silence eventually fell across her mind.
Before Pidge could fully understand what was happening, she was sitting up in her bed, swallowing hard and pawing at her stomach. Her sheets were drenched in sweat, and her messy hair stuck to the back of her neck and her forehead.
What’s going- Her thoughts were immediately interrupted when her stomach lurched. Her hand shot to her mouth, catching a sickly warning burp from the back of her throat.
Without the help of her glasses, Pidge rushed into the bathroom and her knees hit the tile hard. The food goo came up a bit too easily, slipping up her throat and off her tongue with an unsettlingly high velocity. Her eyes squeezed shut as her stomach clenched, and a seemingly endless stream of sick poured into the toilet bowl.
Eventually, actual vomiting turned into dry heaves, and dry heaves turned into shaky coughs and lingering burps. After a moment or two of hovering, she sat back on her heels and slumped against the back wall. Her right arm stayed over her middle while the left lazily hit the flusher. Just when she thought she was at peace, a voice startled her.
“Done yet?”
Pidge startled, eyes snapping open and neck whipping around to see who spoke. Against all her ideas, the Red Paladin was standing in the doorway. He was holding something out to her, but without her glasses, she couldn’t tell exactly what it was. With a squint, Pidge saw that it was her glasses. She accepted them gratefully and clumsily shoved them on her nose.
“What’re you doing here…?” she asked. Her throat was torn from the bile that burned it. Keith knelt down next to her, having a concerned look that was strangely out of character for him.
“Your room is right next to mine, I heard everything.”
Pidge closed her eyes again, feeling another wave start coming up her throat. She pulled herself back over the toilet bowl and braced herself. The food goo texture was worse coming up than it was going down. In the precious few moments before another vomiting session, she felt calloused hands pulling back her copper hair. She wondered if her hair was actually long enough to warrant being pulled back, but her focus shifted when her stomach retched again.
As Pidge continued to throw up, Keith wondered the same thing. He wasn’t the most experienced in comforting someone as they threw their guts up, but he heard that holding someone’s hair back was helpful. When she finally stopped coughing, he let down her hair and moved his hand to her back. The broken arteries in her face gave him another level of concern. Pidge was always strong and smart, never letting anything hold her back. He had never seen her like this.
“Pidge…?” He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. She didn’t respond anyway. She simply rested her forehead on her arms and tried to breathe. Keith bit his bottom lip. He really had no idea how to handle this.
With a sigh, the Red Paladin gently patted Pidge’s back, “Let’s get you to bed.”
Pidge nodded. With physical support from Keith, she was ushered to bed. As she settled herself into the sheets, Keith brought a small glass of water to her nightstand and a trash can to the side of her bed.
After standing there for an awkward few seconds, he sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her glasses off her face. He leaned back against the wall and kept a hand on her back. Before she knew it, he was softly snoring and breathing shallowly. In her exhausted mindset as she drifted to sleep, she thought that red and green were very good complementary colors.
#voltron#vld#voltron legedary defender#voltron: legendary defender#pidge gunderson#keith kogane#sickfic#vomiting#nausea#food poisoning#sort of#ask#i'm starting to like the bromance of Pidge/Keith#feelingalittlesick#fanfiction#Hurt/Comfort#my writing
19 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
swaranhomeo
Untitled
anxious-wisteria-blog
Anxious-Wisteria
moonlit-magdalene
a witch
phrunzoid
Phrunzoid
phrunzoid
Phrunzoid