#i could go to [redacted] for only £1 more and it's an extra half hour on the train + a much better town

[qqueenofhades]

pel!ivan and fedyor went through a lot of ups and some downs from the end of pel and 2021 but they also celebrated 10 years together 🥳 i hope fedyor shoved cake into ivan’s face and also you know, im sure they were mushy like the saps they are

Ivan was supposed to be out of here ten minutes ago – actually, at this point, more like twenty – but the clients are still fucking talking, and if they keep it up much longer, he’s going to add it to the bill for “initial consultation.” Drew has a man-bun and unbearably hip black glasses, and works as a developer for some start-up app that he’s tried to convince Ivan to download at least twelve times. (What does the app actually do? Don’t know don’t care.) Mia is thin, blonde, waifish, smells like essential oils, and has been flitting around with her smartphone the entire time, getting in Ivan’s way as she snaps perfectly filtered pictures of the “developmental process” and posts them nonstop on Instagram. They both have a lot of opinions on how they want the energy of the space to feel, and a preapproved list of ethically sourced suppliers. They have paid some ludicrous price for this converted loft in Prospect Heights and chose the location for its proximity to the best farmer’s markets and hippie coffeehouses. Did Ivan die? Is this hell?

Somewhat ostentatiously, he looks at his watch. “Okay,” he announces. “I think that wraps up. You have work number, so – ”

“Oh, just one more thing!” Drew has recently read one (1) book on home design and thinks he’s an expert, so Ivan is forced to suffer his idiotic opinions about the kind of tile they want to use on the kitchen backsplash. Somehow, he manages not to roll his eyes directly out of his head, for which he should be commended. Ivan has discovered that the secret of successfully dealing with people, especially clients, is to smile and nod at everything they say, while mercilessly mocking them in your head. Amazing, the things you learn as a small-business owner in Brooklyn in the year of our lord 2021. Especially when it comes to renovating overpriced tiny gentrified apartments for insufferable techno-douchebags and their vapid influencer girlfriends. And people think Ivan might want to live like this more often? No fucking thank you.

Finally (it’s another ten minutes after that, this is definitely going on the bill), they more or less wrap up, except for the fact that Mia then wants a picture with the three of them. “It’s just so important to us that we’re supporting the immigrant community,” she explains earnestly. “After all, being open, tolerant, learning from our neighbors, people who are different from us, that’s what life is all about. We just love that you’re foreign. The energy feels so right, you know?”

Ivan wonders whether to inform her that he has lived in this country for eight years and been a full citizen (passport and voting rights and everything) for three, then decides that this would venture into sharing-personal-information territory and he is having none of it. His English has improved to the point where he can handle almost all business transactions by himself, but feigning incomprehension can sometimes get him out of them when they turn really stupid. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option here, and so he diligently leans into the frame, smiling half an inch, while Mia snaps a picture of “us and our adorable Russian contractor!!” Ivan informs her of the correct flag emoji to add to the filter, decides that he’s going to add an extra fifty bucks just for that, and finally, finally, makes his escape.

It’s rush hour, and the Q is crammed as Ivan heads into midtown. So much for social distancing and not getting too close to anyone, which is the only thing from the pandemic that he wouldn’t mind keeping. Only about half the crowd is wearing masks, including him, and so he gets off at Times Square, dodges the latest lunatic standing on a soapbox and shouting about how it is all a hoax, and walks several blocks uptown, just to get some space. He finally reaches the restaurant, where he has to flash his vaccination card to get inside (Ivan, who remains Russian to the marrow of his bones, is a little irked that he couldn’t get Sputnik here and had to settle for Pfizer) and climbs up to the open-air rooftop terrace. It is only when he spots his husband, waiting at a table that overlooks the glittering evening lights of the city, when Ivan pulls off his mask and allows himself to properly smile. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “They are the worst.”

“I figured it was something like that.” Fedyor musters a smile in return, though his eyes look permanently tired these days and Ivan would bet that he’s been scrolling through more depressing emails on his phone. Technically Fedyor is on a two-month sabbatical from work, but he can’t stop himself, and Ivan has had to pry it from his fingers on a number of occasions. “But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Ivan nods stoutly, they are furnished with the drinks and appetizers list, and when the waiter asks if there’s any special occasion tonight, tell him that they are celebrating their ten-year anniversary, albeit somewhat late. This was supposed to happen last spring, but obviously, nobody in New York was going out to a restaurant in the early months of 2020, and Ivan himself had barely gotten home from the hospital and still could be knocked over in a strong breeze. They’re celebrating a lot of things tonight, in other words, even if it’s now been eleven years, not ten, since the day Ivan marched into a Red Square coffee shop and engaged in – well, Fedyor has made sure to inform him that the first date didn’t go nearly as well as Ivan always thought it did. But it worked, didn’t it? Here they are, wedding bands on their fingers, a couple of successful American urban professionals who have built a nice life for themselves and are, if anything, even more madly in love than they were when this whole nutty adventure together first began. So really, if you ask Ivan Sakharov Kaminsky, it went just fine after all.

The waiter congratulates them, gives them two drinks for the price of one, and they both relax and start to talk, fully at ease in the way they only are in each other’s company. Ivan does his Mia impression in an extremely convincing falsetto (after all, [NAME REDACTED] has practice at this) and Fedyor almost dies laughing. They hold hands on the table – no need to hold them under the table – and gaze into each other’s eyes all they want, order dinner and dessert, and take a long time about it. They raise several toasts to this, to them, to ten years, may there be many more. Ivan pays the bill, his treat, and they walk slowly back to Times Square, hand-in-hand, Fedyor’s head nestled on Ivan’s shoulder. It’s New York. Nobody cares.

They ride the Q home, in all its smelly, secondhand glory, taking an hour to bang out to Brighton Beach and descending the elevated stairs into the familiar down-at-heel comfort of their Russian-American neighborhood, neon Cyrillic signs glowing in windows and somebody shouting about how if Sergei ever shows his face here again, she is going to cut his dick off. Ivan and Fedyor look at each other and snort, resisting the urge to shout up and ask what exactly Sergei did, and walk a few more minutes to their building. They climb up three flights of stairs to their apartment, unlock the door and the deadbolt, and step inside.

The instant they are home, Rasputin shoots out of nowhere, yowling as if he has been neglected for months, and curls himself around Ivan’s ankles (he is still liable to give Fedyor evil looks when he feels that this interloper has been stealing his human too often). Ivan sighs, trudges to the kitchen, points out to Rasputin that his food bowl is still half full, gets a wounded look in return, and adds an extra scoopful. Once the cat is happily snarfing down, Fedyor pulls Ivan by the hand, into the dim living room with its blowing curtains. “Come here, my love,” he says. “Hold me.”

Ivan does as ordered, because it’s his favorite thing in the world: cuddling Fedyor close, nothing but the two of them in all of time and space, swaying slowly in the blue hour with fingers and arms and hearts entwined. Ivan kisses Fedyor’s temple, and Fedyor nestles even closer, melted into his embrace. “I love you, Vanya,” he mumbles against Ivan’s collarbone. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Fedya.” Ivan leans down and kisses him properly, sweet and slow and lingering, as they continue to waltz in stately time to a music that nobody except the two of them can hear. “I’m still not always sure why you married me, but I am very glad you did.”

[syncrime]

Filial Piety

[ Gen | Yakuza 7/Yakuza: Like A Dragon | Zhao&(unnamed)F!OC ]

CROSS POSTED FROM MY OTHER WRITING BLOG @synchronmurmurs

Yell heah I’ve gone the full cringey, embarrassing route, but Yakuza 7 inflicted Tianyou Zhao on me, and I want nothing more than to 1) be him 2) be his best friend 3) [redacted for the kiddies]. In the meantime, and to get back into the swing of writing, I wrote a short little thing in about an hour. It’s half character analysis/essay-y, half self indulgent tripe based on the following prompt:

“You make me proud, you know that right?”

As the son of the Yokohama Liumang's ringleader, Zhao never really counted on having a regular childhood. From what he remembers, it was a rushed affair. Burdened, pressured, and always the focus of one spotlight or another, he was a lump of coal that could never become the diamond he was expected to be. He flew through hobbies one after another, always achieving near mastery in all of them - academics, sports, martial arts, swordplay - but never any kind of deeper fulfillment before he tossed it aside and moved on to the next (although cooking remains his favourite). Motivation slipped from between his fingers as he got older, and he sought to plug the holes with rings. With crude haircuts and outlandish fashion. Loud statements as to his lifestyle, so that he might be heard:

I don't want the Liumang.

But it was never his choice to make.

He wonders if anything ever has been.

He was thankful, for a time, that Mabuchi was there to take some of the heat, the weight, the irksome pressure off of his back, lightening his load so that he might skip a class or two. Hit the arcades. Go drinking with a friend. A real friend instead of bodyguards who watch and report his actions to his father. It's the only time he feels like he can breathe. With that kind of surveillance on him, he wonders how he got tangled up with her at all, the memories blurring together, much like the rest of his childhood. But he can always count on her to keep his head above the water when everything else is–

A hand claps him on the back.

"Quit spacing out, you're not that drunk."

Her cheeks are tinted, but not due to the proximity, or the hand she propped onto his knee when she leaned in, but the drink she nurses with her other hand, the ice ringing against chilled glass.

"What, you thinking about your old man again?" Her head tilts, and the lights above in the dim bar blink a white light off her glasses. "You're doing that a lot, you know. Anything you wanna talk about?"

He chuckles lightly, jovially, as if he isn't talking about his looming future. "Noooope." And he means that. Really. The tangled ball of yarn that is his inner workings isn't anything he wants coming unravelled in anybody's presence, much less her's. Life is just so much easier that way. Such that even the lopsided smile he offers her is effortless. "I came out here to drink, and to teach my poor widdle fwiend how to nail the triple 20's at darts because I'm done with you dragging my street cred down. It's the kind of thing that could bring the whoooole Ijin Three down, you know? Is that something you want on your shoulders?"

He's expecting her to move, roused by the thrill of challenge, but the weight of her hand on his knee doesn't lift away. If anything, it bears down a little harder as she dips her head slightly, trying to peer underneath his own glasses as if they're shielding the truth. She doesn't talk about what she sees under them, but she spends long enough just staring at his face, tossing thoughts around in her head that he'll never get to hear, but will always end up feeling instead. And that, to him, somehow feels the more honest approach.

"Okay, but like…" she trails off, finally breaking eye contact to stare into her glass where the watered down remains of her drink swirl, "...no matter what, you make me proud. You know that, right? Like is that something you hear enough? Because I feel like it isn't. And it should. Because you're pretty cool, I guess."

With a smile, he slides his glass along the countertop until it clinks against her's. It's all the response she needs apparently, because with a final pat against his knee, she's rising to her feet to make her way towards the dart boards. Until at least, on a whim, he reaches for her.

"Wait."

Zhao catches her hand and squeezes tightly. He holds her eyes for a prolonged stretch of time with that same cocky smile, but an extra something that the tint of his glasses perfectly hides. He wants to thank her. For what, he doesn't want to say; the company; the sincerity; the groundedness of their friendship. Because if he plucks at that fraying thread and lets it slip, everything holding himself together will come apart, and when the Liumang are still depending on him, it isn't a risk he can take. But all the same, she waits for him to speak, and this is, at least, one expectation he can meet. The tension, having built too quickly, dissipates when he pulls her back towards him, just a little. When he finally finds the right words, he's reached for something else entirely, something more comfortable. Something easier. Something that suits them both a little more than being a couple of sad drunks in a bar:

"What do you mean you guess I'm pretty cool?"

She smiles, and knows that, at least for now, he's alright.

[trashyswitch]

Logan's Trip to [REDACTED]

Chapter 1: The First Ever Foreign Visitor

Logan visits one of the SCP Foundation sites, that houses SCP's of different classes. Though most of it should remain classified information, Logan is allowed to interact with the SCP's of the safe class. This is where things get much more interesting...

WARNING: Bits of the writing had to be redacted and expunged to keep names and locations classified.

Ever since I found out about SCP-999, I wanted to make a fanfic on it. It's SO CUTE!!! I WANT ONE!

Logan had brought Thomas, Patton, Virgil, and Roman all together to discuss a mostly classified trip he was going to take. Though he couldn't tell them where exactly he was going, he could tell them the name of the company and fill them in on the creatures he looked at and interacted with.

"So...how long will you be gone for?" Thomas asked.

Logan looked at his watch. "My ride should arrive at 12 am exactly, and I will be back at 12 o'clock noon, on Saturday." Logan replied.

"Okay. Very specific." Thomas commented.

"I'm aware of how specific it is. This is a highly classified trip that has been rewarded to me for...reasons I'm not aware of. But, it is a one time opportunity I could never say no to. I am very excited to go." Logan told them.

"I can't wait to hear all about it! Especially that orange goop one." Patton commented.

Logan looked at the paper he had in front of him. "I believe you mean SCP-999. And yes, I am eager to see what that SCP is like." Logan replied.

"Are there any SCP's you're nervous about?" Virgil asked.

Logan thought for a moment. "I am a little nervous of seeing SCP-173...And SCP-682. 173 being the baby thing, and 682 being the strange alligator being." Logan replied.

"Is there anything specific you're bringing for the trip?" Thomas asked.

"Yes, there is. I have been granted permission to give certain safe-class SCP's gifts. I wish to give SCP-2295 some fabric ribbon and needles. I hope to give SCP-131-a & b a couple hair accessories, or a couple toys they may like." Logan started. Patton let out an 'aww'ing sound at the cute idea. Logan continued. "I would also like to hand SCP-914 a piece of wood, and see what the machine creates out of it. To end it off, I want to offer SCP-999 a package of M&M's, and Necco™ Wafers." Logan told them.

"Didn't the Necco™ Wafers factories closed? And I thought they no longer sell them?" Thomas asked.

"They are in high demand and in low numbers, but I successful in finding a couple packages of Necco™ Wafers that were on sale on Amazon. I opened one package of them already to taste them, and determined that they weren't expired. Then, I decided to share them with Virgil, Patton and Janus." Logan explained.

"Nice!" Thomas replied.

"They were so good!" Patton exclaimed excitedly, remembering the taste of the wafers.

"They were, honestly. It was a nice treat." Virgil commented.

Logan smiled. "I'm glad you two liked them." Logan commented.

"So...how do you feel about it the transportation aspect?" Thomas asked.

"It's a lot, but I can manage. I won't be able to tell anyone how I got to the site, or how I got back. What I DO know, is that according to the handbook: I'll be taken to the site in a jet." Logan told them.

"Ooooh! Sounds fancy!" Roman reacted. Logan shrugged.

"It's certainly gonna be a new experience." Logan told them.

After everyone bid their goodbyes to the logical side, Logan calmly kept himself busy while he waited for 12 o'clock midnight to roll around.

By the time 12 o'clock had rolled around, Logan had already packed his bag and was all ready with an empty notebook and a pen. When Logan had walked up to the car with his suitcase, Logan got to see the two unidentifiable passengers that were going to drive him to the jet. The driver and the passenger were both completely bald and dressed in identical suits, with sunglasses on their faces. They looked like something out of Men In Black.

Before they left, A few precautions had to be taken: the driver had taken hold of the suitcase and his backpack, and began checking both bags for liquids, weapons and any other dangerous or illegal items. At the same time, the passenger on the right had walked up to Logan and had quickly checked him over for any harmful weapons. With Logan confirmed to be unarmed, the passenger instructed him to take off his prescription glasses. When his glasses were in his case, the security guard took them from him and placed them into a small compartment in his backpack. Then, the passenger placed an eye mask onto Logan's face that surrounded the skeleton holes of his eyes with comfortable memory foam. This memory foam helped to block out all light and therefore: all sight. Thankfully, Logan was well aware that this would happen. Logan had received a book of information that would prepare him for the trip. The book even gave him a warning that he would be blindfolded on the way to the jet location. Logan was prepared with something to busy himself. Logan had put a pair of air-pods into his pocket, and put together a playlist of his favorite songs and his favorite audio-books, to listen to on the car ride down. Though the extra precautions seemed over-the-top, Logan understood that the precautions were for the safety of himself, and the safety of the SCP Foundation. They didn't want anybody getting tortured into giving away top secret information.

Logan listened to his playlist on the way to the jet location. Surprisingly, the ride wasn't as boring as he thought it would be! It was really fun! He even went as far as to start dancing to his music on the way. Sure, the passengers might've judged him. But, Logan didn't care. They needed to know that he was human, and allowed to have lots of fun. Another surprising part, was that the car ride was shorter than he expected. By the time Logan had gotten through only half of the playlist, Logan had gotten a light nudge to the shoulder. Logan carefully took out his air-pods.

"We're here." someone told him.

Logan nodded. "Okay." Logan replied. Someone turned his head around to reach the back, and carefully removed the mask from his eyes. Logan had to take a moment to get used to the light. When he did though, travel became a little more smoother. Logan went through another quick round of body checks and luggage checks before Logan was led out towards the jet out in the field. The jet was big, but somewhat small compared to the usual airplane sizes. Logan climbed into the jet, and walked into the sitting area inside the jet. Logan smiled at the interior. It wasn't luxurious, but it wasn't poorly designed either. It was a pretty nice interior for a middle class flyer. Logan happily took a seat in one of the chairs, placed his backpack under his seat and readied himself for the takeoff. Logan couldn't wait!

Logan listened to the plane safety information that usually came with it, before hearing the flight attendant announce the jet's take off. Logan opened the window flap, and watched as the jet started rolling. Logan watched as the fields flew by faster, and faster and faster, until the plane started flying up! The ground became smaller and farther away, while the view down became larger and larger and larger! Then, the view was sadly forsaken, and replaced with fluffy clouds. Now the entire view was a mix of dark clouds and dark sky. Logan sat back in his chair, and sighed with a smile. This is the life.

A long 5 hours later, and Logan was getting ready to leave the jet! The announcer gave him the orders to fasten is seat belts, and Logan began to feel himself descending. Soon, the wheels hit the landing spot below, and slowly brought itself to a nice, perfect halt. Logan smiled and waited for the announcer to give him and the rest of the staff a go ahead to leave the plane.

"All passengers are ordered to leave the plane and descend the staircase below." Logan heard. Logan was ready. The door opened, and Logan collected his stuff and gave everyone a polite 'thank you', before walking himself down the stairs. A couple new security guards gave him his luggage, and instructed him to follow them. Logan did as he was told, and dragged his wheeled suitcase behind his back. Logan was led right into the main opening of the SCP site. A man with darker skin but similar attire to the passengers, met Logan at he entrance.

"Mr. Sanders. I'm Dr. ████, The General manager in this corporation." The man said.

Logan shook the hand. "I'm honored to be here and under your care, Doctor." Logan replied to him.

"How was the flight? Fairly smooth, I hope?" Dr. ████ asked.

"The most smooth plane ride I've ever experienced." Logan replied.

"Excellent. And can you tell me how you got here at all?" the Doctor asked.

"Nope. Not a clue." Logan replied.

"Perfect. This is a very special privilege. We wouldn't want to ruin it with unwanted leaks." Dr. ████ explained.

"Understood." Logan agreed.

"Shall we take you to your room?" Dr. ████ asked.

"Of course." Logan replied.

"24639 and 58227, lead the way." the doctor ordered.

"Yes sir." 24639 and 58227 both said. The two men began leading the way, while Logan and the Doctor talked.

"So Sanders. Are you overwhelmed yet?" The doctor asked.

"A little bit, yeah. But, it's nothing I can't manage." Logan replied.

"You're keeping in good spirits. I like that." The doctor commented. "Say, how many rumors have you heard about?" The doctor asked.

"Uuuuh...A couple. The only rumor I personally knew about, was SCP-173." Logan explained.

"Oooh. What about it?" The doctor asked.

"Barely anything. Just one leaked photo, and that it's dangerous." Logan replied.

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure I clear up some rumors, if you've heard any. But, it looks like you haven't. So, that leaves us a bit more time to talk." The doctor said.

"Okay." Logan replied.

"Are there any SCP's you'd like to look at?" The doctor asked.

"Yes, actually. I'd like to look at SCP 173 and SCP-682, if that's possible." Logan commented. "I don't wanna go into the actual room with them, but I would like to look at them through a window." Logan further explained.

"Aaah...I see. Anything else?" The doctor asked.

"Yes. I also want to look at SCP-067, SCP-294, and SCP-530." Logan replied.

"Okay. So, the World War 2 pen, the vending machine and the dog with multiple limbs. Alright." The doctor replied.

"I really wanna see SCP-131-a and 131-b. And perhaps I could see SCP-999?" Logan added.

"Of course! Those are the most playful SCP's we have." The doctor told him. Logan smiled excitedly. "And, here we are!" The doctor told him. The doctor opened up the door, and allowed Logan a chance to drop off his suitcase.

"I'm gonna let you get comfy in here. When you feel ready, just give us a call on our walkie-talkie." The doctor ordered before handing Logan a walkie-talkie of his own.

Logan looked at the walkie-talkie, put it up to his mouth and pressed the button. "I'm ready now." Logan told him.

The doctor's eyes widened in surprise. Really?! Even after all that, Logan wanted to start now?!

"Okay. Here's your map, and your key-card. Just highlight where you wanna go, and follow the map." The doctor told him. "And don't think of doing anything stupid. I have eyes on the entire building. You will be kicked out of the building site." The doctor warned him.

"I fully understand. No need to worry. I am capable of following proper guidelines and regulations." Logan replied humbly.

The doctor smiled at the man. "Okay. Just be sure to give us updates on your observations." The doctor ordered, before walking away. The Doctor truly believed he could trust Sanders. It was a nice change. Perhaps he had been blessed with a wonderful first-time tourist...

Logan opened up the map and opened up his handbook, and began highlighting the specific SCP's he wanted to check out and/or interact with. It took a few minutes, but Logan soon had a list of SCP's to visit and interact with.

Can you guess which SCP was the nearest to him? It was SCP-294. The vending machine! Logan walked himself up to the door, and used the key card he had been given earlier, to get into the door. When it opened, Logan pulled the door open and walked in. Logan walked himself up to the vending machine, and eyed up the big thing. It looked like your typical large click-and-pour coffee machine, but it came with a keyboard below the touchscreen that presented itself in the top right corner of the coffee machine. Logan walked himself towards the keyboard, and began to think of what he wanted. He could ask for any typical beverage. A soft drink, a glass of milk, an alcoholic beverage, or even a smoothie! But Logan began to wonder what other things can be made with the coffee machine.

Logan decided to test it. Logan typed the following words into the keyboard:

[Chicken nugget smoothie]

When he felt ready, Logan clicked enter. Logan watched as a paper cup fell into the machine dispenser, and produced a orangish-brown looking thick substance. Logan removed from the dispenser, and took a breath before taking a sip...Logan let out a dry heave in disgust, but stopped himself when he realized what he was actually tasting: chicken meat split up, breaded and deep-fried...Also known as chicken nuggets.

Logan threw the rest of the chicken nugget smoothie into the garbage, and smirked as he type in his new request:

[Juiced Strawberry Crofters Jam]

Logan clicked enter and licked his lips as he waited. The coffee machine spit out a paper cup, and dispensed a red-looking liquid with teensy bits of strawberry seeds mixed into the liquid. Logan took the paper cup out of the dispenser, and looked up at the touchscreen. The touchscreen had a few words displayed onto it: 'Crofters, the only jelly I will put in my belly'. Logan giggled at the message, and brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth. "I was able to make liquefied versions of food options from the machine. Not only did I get an actual Chicken Nugget Smoothie, I was also successful in getting a liquefied, strawberry-flavored jam." Logan told the Doctor.

"Crofters?" The Doctor specified.

Oh gosh...He watches the YouTube channel..."Yup. Crofter's jam." Logan replied with an awkward chuckle.

Next: Logan moved onto the next SCP on his list: SCP-067. Logan used his key-card to unlock the door. When it allowed him in, Logan opened the door and looked inside. Inside of the room, was a table with a felt-covered wooden box. Logan looked around the room as he walked himself closer and closer to the middle of the room. In the middle, there appeared to be a wooden desk and a wooden chair. Logan took a deep breath before sitting himself down and opening up the drawer. On the inside of the wooden desk, was a built-in drawer that held pages of lined paper. Logan pulled two pieces of lined paper out of the drawer, and placed it onto the table. After taking one more big breath, Logan picked up the pen. Almost immediately, the pen began moving his hand. This was to be expected. The pen was known for taking over a person's arm until they placed it down. So, Logan allowed the pen to do its thing. The pen began to write in a pretty, but somewhat messy version of cursive. It looked like the type of cursive that had been worked on by a person for decades. This was very strange because Logan has never developed legible cursive of his own style. Logan was simply a printer, who often started every single word he wrote, in all capitals.

Logan watched as the pen continued to write out a long page of writing. As his hand was taken over, Logan skimmed through some of the writing. It appeared to have been school notes Logan could recognize from one of his high school years. The subject appeared to be science, and the writing had also recalled the following units: [DATA EXPUNGED]

When the pen was done, Logan's hand had placed the pen down and gave Logan control over his hand again. It was a strange, but interesting experience. While the pen dried, Logan kept on skimming some of the words on the page. The writing had showed him some of the chemistry and biology he had taken back then. A lot of the notes appeared to resemble Logan's...cheat sheet for the exam. Logan's eyes widened at the unbelievably accurate resemblance of his cheat sheet. Logan nodded his head slowly and nervously, before lightly pushing the paper aside and pulling out his own pencil. Using the second piece of paper, Logan described his science exam and the cheat sheet he had made at the time. He explained how the writing wasn't his own, but that the words written and the format of such words were perfectly replicated by the fountain pen, in great detail and accuracy. It was as if the pen had collected all of his high school memories of the science classes he had taken, had re-entered his mind for a good half an hour! It was strange, but very fascinating. When the ink appeared to be dried enough, Logan put the two papers together and inserted them into a hung up mailbox, for research purposes. When Logan left the room, he told Dr. ████ that the written paper was in the mailbox, and ready for analysis and research.

Next on his list, was SCP-2295. Logan used his key-card on the door, and opened it up. Upon looking inside the containment locker, Logan smiled as he gazed his eyes upon the multi-fabric teddy bear that sat onto the ground. Logan placed the key-card into the slot and removed it as he opened up the door.

"Hello." Logan greeted. The teddy bear seemed to not be asleep, but rather unresponsive. Logan closed the sliding door behind him, and knelt down a few meters away from the teddy bear. "My name is Logan. I believe your name is Kairos, right?" Logan introduced. The bear seemed to stay unresponsive for a bit...Logan slowly sat himself down in criss-cross apple sauce, and gently waited for SCP-2295 to make a gesture. After a minute of waiting, Logan pulled out his walkie-talkie and began talking into it. "This is Mr. Sanders, giving you an update. The bear appears to be unresponsive, which is unfortunate considering I brought it a little gift." Logan said.

"Can you specify what it is? Or would you like me to wait and see?" The doctor asked.

Logan waited a couple seconds for the teddy bear to do something. He was about to reply with a hint, but immediately stopped himself when he saw a small wave from the bear. Logan made a slight gasp, before answering the doctor's question with a small smile. "I'm gonna let Kairos open it up and reveal it." Logan replied. After he placed his walkie-talkie down, Logan decided to open up his backpack and gently pull out a little boxed present wrapped in fabric and ribbon. "I brought you a present. I thought you might like it." Logan told it, before gently dragging it across the floor towards the teddy bear.

Though it took a bit, the teddy bear moved his head! The teddy bear gave itself a scratch on the ear, and slowly brought itself up onto its feet. Logan's smile grew wider as he watched the teddy bear walk over to the present. The present appeared to be more than half its diameter, but quite long and wide. The teddy bear grabbed onto the ribbon with both of its hands fabric hands and pulled the bow on the top free. The bow collapsed onto the present, and allowed Kairos to unwrap the fabricated wrap. When the wrap and the ribbon was removed and pushed aside, the teddy bear opened up the box lid and pulled out the contents inside: It was fabric! Tons of different-colored fabric! The teddy bear's sewed-on smile widened as it looked at around 15 different patterned fabrics. The box also included multiple sewing thread colors! Black, pink, yellow, blue, red, even a light pink-colored thread! Kairos made an excited smile and showed off all the different fabrics he had now!

With his fabric stack all filled up for a while, SCP-2295 placed the fabric onto the floor in the corner of the room, and walked up to the generous man. Kairos reached his arms up, to ask Logan to pick him up. "You...want me to pick you up?" Logan clarified with a smile. The teddy bear nodded in reply, and reached his arms up as high as it could reach. Logan giggled and picked the guy up by the middle, like he would a toddler. The teddy bear reached his arms out in front of him this time, as if to ask for a hug. Logan didn't wait even a second, and happily gave the teddy bear a hug.

Logan had been hugging Kairos for about 2 minutes, when Kairos had taken something out of his mouth and had began...tickling him with it! Logan let out a few surprised giggles, and pulled away with an eyebrow raised in curiousity.

"Whahat are you dohoihing?" Logan asked. The teddy bear had held up a multi-colored feather with yellow at the top, and red and black at the middle and bottom of the feather. It was really pretty. "That's a lovely feather." Logan commented. the teddy bear's smile got bigger as it brought the feather onto Logan's neck and began fluttering it quickly. "Hehehehey! Thahat tihihihicklehehes!" Logan giggled, tilting his head to the side to cover up the spot. Kairos stopped the feather for a moment, and switched hands. With the feather in his right hand now, Kairos started fluttering the feather onto the right side of Logan's neck."Hahahahahaha! Stahahahahap thahahahat!" Logan told him through his newfound giggle fit. If Kairos' button eyes could've gotten bigger, Logan thinks they would've. Kairos must've discovered something new!

Logan stuck his tongue out at the teddy bear playfully. When Logan tried to get a better grip on the bear, Kairos made a jolt and dropped the feather in surprise! "Oh! Sorry, buddy." Logan apologized as he continued to grip the bear better. Amidst Logan's moving and gripping, Kairos started shaking and pushing at the fingers. Logan lifted an eyebrow. What was he doing? Logan paused his gripping for a moment, before continuing with it a second later. Kairos started shaking again and this time, it started covering its mouth with it's left hand! Logan gasped as it all clicked in his mind! "Are you...laughing?" Logan asked. The teddy bear gave Logan a small, but visible nod of the head. As a test, Logan tried squeezing the bear's side. The bear actually jumped again and began shaking with laughter! Logan's smile got wider as more puzzle pieces fit into the puzzle. "Are you ticklish?" Logan asked in a teasy voice. The teddy bear nodded back! He WAS!

Logan cradled Kairos with his left arm. When it was balanced enough, Logan began skittering his fingers all over Kairos' tummy and sides and started making ticky-ticky noises to further tease the bear. Kairos jolted in surprise and began shaking with laughter and squirming back and forth. When the bear wasn't reaching for Logan's fingers, Kairos was covering its mouth with both hand stubs to almost cover up the giggles and laughter. Unsurprisingly, Kairos didn't really have a laugh that came with a sound. Its laughter was merely shaking. Its hand-covering actually helped a little, to prove that he was laughing happily. Logan began to giggle along with the teddy bear as he tried out different spots. Unsurprisingly, the bear's big, multi-colored belly seemed to be the only spot that got it squirming and shaking the most! The sides still kept it laughing, but the squirming would lessen a bit. Logan even gave the ears a few tickles! And amazingly, the bear had covered its eyes and began rocking left and right uncontrollably! It was a very cute sight to see.

After a few more seconds of tickling, Logan stopped tickling the bear. Even though the bear didn't really have a pair of lungs, Logan still wanted to make sure he didn't go overboard. This was only a one time event. When the bear stopped its heavy breathing, Kairos lifted itself up onto Logan's arm and began giving Logan another hug. Logan lifted the bear up a bit, so it could hug Logan around the neck again. Logan gave the bear one last hug before saying good bye. The bear happily waved Logan good bye, and sat back down to resume to its inactive state. With the bear now inactive, Logan put his backpack on and left the room.

Logan pulled out his walkie-talkie as he walked. "It would appear that SCP-2295 has nerves. He's pretty ticklish." Logan told him.

"Interesting...I wonder if SCP-2295 might like SCP-999?" Dr. ████ asked to himself.

"Maybe..." Logan replied before putting away the walkie-talkie.

Walking down the hall, Logan smiled as he looked at the map. It looked like SCP-131-a/b was next! Logan walked himself up to the door, and placed the key-card into the slot. when the door opened, Logan walked into the room and walked up to a vault with a huge window that showed him the artificial teardrop-looking eyeballs. Logan made a smile when he saw that SCP-131-a & b had a Kids Road play mat on the ground. Logan watched as the two eyeballs rolled around on the rolling ball that was attached to them. They were tiny, but quite quick and observant (I mean, they are eyeballs afterall...). Logan walked up to the vaulted door, and placed the key-card into the slot. When given the right code, the door vault slid open on its own, revealing the eyeballs in its full glory. Logan walked in, gave the little eyeballs a cheerful "Hello", and knelt down to look at the little rolling balls. The eyeballs appeared to be teardrop-shaped Cyclopes. One of them was darker orange-colored, while the other was a darker, pretty yellow color. Logan smiled and gently scratched his fingernail around the bottom of the orange one's point on its head. The cyclops creature closed its single eye for a moment, and let out an electronic, cheerful noise in reply.

Wow! The eyeballs really are like house cats!

Logan gave them a small smile and offered a hand to jump onto. The orange one happily rolled itself onto his hand, and looked up at Logan. Logan carefully bought SCP-131-a up closer to inspect it. He tried caressing the left side of the eye pod, to see what would happen. Logan watched in admiration as the orange eye pod's eye dilated happily, and closed a little bit as it melted into the touch. Logan realized the orange eye pod liked to be petted too! Logan slowly moved his right hand away from the eye pod, just to make sure that the eye pod wouldn't try to roll off his hand or something.

When he felt he could trust the orange pod, Logan grabbed his walkie-talkie from his pocket, and clicked the button to talk. "Dr. ████: With your permission, I have brought a few of the safe SCP's little gifts for them to enjoy. for SCP-131-a & b, I have brought a couple customized wooden cars that I made and customized myself." Logan told him.

"Oh wow! You say you made them yourself? Okay. You can give them to the eye pods." Dr. ████ replied.

"Thank you." Logan said, before placing the orange eye pod down. Logan reached into his bag and pulled out little wooden toy cars, little pieces of black shoe lace, and little plastic rings that were meant for a toddler. Logan placed the shoelaces and the rings aside, to see what the were capable of.

"Here." Logan said, giving them each a little toy car. Both cars were a blue color, with black windows, a black windshield and grey small handles painted on. Logan had covered them in clear varnish to make them shine and keep them from breaking down. To encourage them to push it, Logan gave the car a light push. SCP-131-b looked at the car curiously, and tried pushing it with the side of its body. The yellow pod repeated the pushing, and even went as far as to roll itself around while pushing the car to go faster. Amidst the 'running', the car slipped right off the eye pod's body and slowed its rolling almost immediately. But, much to Logan's surprise, the eye pod couldn't stop itself! It didn't have a brake system! Logan covered his mouth as the eye pod hit a glass wall on the other side of the containment room. Luckily for Logan, the eye pod seemed to be okay after it shook itself off. Logan walked up to it, knelt down to the pod's level, and gave it a few pets to keep it calm. SCP-131-b gave Logan a little babble that could've been its version of saying 'thank you'. Logan smiled and began working on the cars.

Logan had a sense that because the SCP's lacked arms, Logan would need to customize the wooden toys further. Logan had actually prepared himself for such a repair. Logan pulled out the shoelace and the plastic rings, and placed them onto the ground. While one set of lace and ring was set out for the eye pods to investigate, the other shoelace and ring was being tied together, and tied the shoelace to the car. Beforehand, Logan had drilled a small hole into the car so that he could do this. But if it ended up not being needed, then it could be left there as a hole.

When he finished customizing both cars, Logan got their attention by waving the rings in the air for them to see. SCP-131-a rolled itself up first, followed SCP-131-b. Logan placed the ring around the little narrow cone on the top of the SCP's. Then, Logan gave the car a little push to encourage them to try it out. SCP-131-a was the first to go. The orange eye pod started rolling around slowly, just to test out the wooden car. When the wooden car started rolling too, the orange eye pod started going faster and faster! When the eye pod would roll itself faster, the car would roll faster as well! SCP-131-b had turned itself around to face the car, and was currently rolling around the room backwards! Logan giggled at the adorable sight, unable to take how cute and hilarious this was!

After a few minutes of having fun with their new wooden cars, SCP-131-a and b rolled themselves towards the door. Logan smiled and pulled out his walkie-talkie.

"Dr. ████, would I be allowed to let the SCP's roam the wider room with their new cars?" Logan asked.

"Of course! These SCP siblings are one of the only SCP's we allow to roam around." The doctor replied.

Logan smiled as he put the walkie-talkie away, and opened up the automatic door. Almost immediately, the two SCP's went barreling into the wider space with their car toys! Logan giggled at the silly eye pod creatures raced each other around the room. They drove around towards walls, and soon learned how to turn themselves around before they hit the wall! It was like seeing Star Wars-looking droids driving around while high on caffeine AND sugar all at once! It was really funny, and slightly fear inducing! But, they seemed to be having fun. After a few minutes of rolling around to the speed of race cars, SCP-131-a and b rolled themselves over to Logan and began babbling to him. SCP-131-a was attempting to fling the toy off its cone, while SCP-131-b was trying to help its twin. Logan smiled and removed the ring from the orange eye pod's cone. The orange eye pod began rolling around again, and brought itself over to the other door. When the yellow pod's ring was removed as well, SCP-131-b followed its twin over to the door. The two pods started jumping on the spot excitedly. Logan bit his lip. He wasn't sure if the SCP's were allowed to completely leave the perimeter...

"Hey Mr. Sanders..." The walkie-talkie talked.

Logan picked up his walkie-talkie. "Yes Dr. ████?" Logan replied.

"I think you should open the door and follow them. They want to show you something." Dr. ████ told Logan.

Logan nodded. "Roger." Logan replied before putting away the walkie-talkie. Logan walked up to the room button and clicked it to open the door. As soon as the door slid open, the two SCP's headed out the door and began rolling down the hall. "Wait up!" Logan warned them. Thankfully, the SCP's stopped and turned themselves around to wait up for their new slow friend. Logan did catch up though, and even kept his map in his bag to keep it a surprise.

Interesting enough, the eye pods stopped in front of SCP-173's door. Logan kept his key-card in his pocket, but did look inside to take a peek. The gigantic baby-looking statue was standing in the corner of the room, with its black eyes staring at him from over its shoulder. Logan's eyes widened at the size of the statue, and became more and more intimidated by it, the longer he stared. Logan took a moment to blink. When he opened his eyes, the statue had turned itself around! Its front was now facing him, and its black eyes were staring directly back at him. Logan gulped and looked down at the eye pods. Both of the eye pods were looking in SCP-173's direction. They were staring at him through the door, and making sure they didn't take eyes off him. When Logan looked at SCP-173 again, the SCP hadn't moved places at all. Logan narrowed his eyes curiously. The eye pods seemed to understand that they needed to look right at SCP-173 to remain safe. While Logan had been gaining fear from staring at it, the eye pods seemed completely un-phased by it. Logan decided to walk away from the window and keep on going.

When Logan started walking, the eye pods took their eyes off the SCP as well and sped right past Logan! They began leading Logan further down the hall, and stopped in front of one of the rooms. Logan caught up to them, and looked at the door label:

[SCP-999]

Logan immediately made a toothy smile. Logan had been waiting to see this one! But, it looked like the Eye Pods wanted to visit the slime as well! Or, the eye pods wanted to introduce Logan to the SCP. Logan pulled out his walkie-talkie. "SCP-131-a and b have led me to the chamber of SCP-999." Logan told the doctor. Logan out the walkie-talkie back into his pocket and pulled out the key-card, before placing it into the slot to open the door. When the door opened, Logan let the eye pods go in before him, so that Logan didn't have to worry about stepping on them by mistake. Logan closed the door behind him, and walked up to the chamber window. It looked like some kind of translucent orange slime. Logan smiled upon looking at the slime, and walked up to the chamber door. Logan placed the key-card up to the door. When it read it, the door slid open to reveal the orange slime. Logan looked down, and watched as the eye pods rolled excitedly towards the slime. The slime turned around to face them, revealing its black eyes and orange mouth, and happily pulled the eye pods into a big group hug. Logan smiled at the cute scene. While he waited, Logan walked further into the room and closed the door on the inside.

He pulled out his walkie-talkie. "I'm in the room with SCP-999 right now. SCP-131-a and b are hugging it happily." Logan updated.

"Do you feel 999's effects yet?" Dr. ████ asked.

Logan smiled and blushed. "I do feel some of the effects." Logan replied.

"A little warning: People have stated that the longer they stay in there with SCP-999, the more giddy and happy they get." Dr. ████ warned him.

Logan nodded. "Okay." Logan replied, before putting his walkie-talkie into his pocket again.

SCP-999 walked itself up to Logan, with the eye pods in its slime hands. SCP-131-a and b hopped off 999's hands, and rolled themselves behind Logan's feet. They began rolling and attempting to push Logan's feet closer, to meet the slime.

Logan giggled. "Okay, okay. I'm getting there." Logan told them. Logan walked a little closer and knelt himself down. "I'm Logan. I'm visiting the safe SCP's for research and tourist purposes." Logan told the slime. The slime didn't seem to get what Logan was saying. What it DID get though, was that Logan is not a very emotional person. Why, how can that be? That just won't due! A person must express their emotions. It's healthy that way!

SCP-999 brought itself closer to Logan with a smile, and brought him into a big hug with its stubby pseudo-pods. After turning himself around to face the front, Logan gasped as a sudden wave of happiness took him over. The slime was cuddling him firmly, giving him nuzzles with its cheek while making gurgling noises. If it weren't for the overwhelming feeling of happiness, Logan might've felt some awkwardness with this hug from an orange slime. But...the slime was giving him so much happiness! To top it off, the smell of cookies was filling the air as he was being cuddled! How can one feel anything but happiness when you're being cuddled while cookies are baking?!

Logan's toothy smile was impossible to wipe off, and it didn't take long for small, joyful giggles to start pouring out of his mouth. the gurgling and cooing noises the slime was making, only added to the happiness! Things got better and a little more silly, when Logan began feeling the slime suck him into the slime's body. Logan's giggles got a little louder as he felt ticklish sensations against his entire upper body, and some of his lower body as well.

"Hahahaha! Hehehehehey! Yohohohou're tihihihicklihihing mehehehe!" Logan reacted. The slime seemed to like this reaction because the tickling sensation got stronger and stronger. "BAAA! NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHI'M TOHOHOHOHO TIHIHIHICKLIHIHISH!" Logan shouted.

The slime began letting out excited cooing noises in reply. He hasn't said stop yet, meaning he could keep going! SCP-999 began enveloping its slime around the bottom part of Logan. Now, his belly to his ankles was covered in orange slime, that was tickling him! Logan let out a long, high-pitched squeal! "WAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WAHAHAHAHAIT! NAHAHAHAT MYHYHYHY KNEHEHEHEES! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Logan yelled desperately. Logan began to lose some of his balance. So, SCP-999 brought him down with its pseudo-pods, before continuing the tickle-fight. With two of his stubs, SCP-999 managed to make them thin enough to tickle Logan's armpits. With another stub, SCP-999 continued tickling Logan's belly and his belly button. "NOHOHOHO AHAHAHARMPIHIHIHITS! GAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAN'T!" Logan begged helplessly. There it was! There's the word! SCP-999 lessened its tickles exponentially, and only continued the tickling on his belly. "HAHAHAhahahahaha! Ohohohohokahahahay...thahahahahat's behehehehetteheheher..." Logan reacted as his laughter turned into giggles.

SCP-999 smiled and got off of him. The slime slid itself towards Logan's backside, and placed its pseudo-pods onto Logan's shoulders. Logan gasped at the touch, but slowly relaxed as the SCP gave it little massages on the neck and shoulders. The massages were really nice. They were a teeny bit tickly, but nothing that Logan couldn't handle. Logan let out sighs of relief as he melted into the touch. It felt unbelievably relaxing for him. It wasn't painful like most massages were. This was just a gentle, slightly tickly massage.

SCP-999 must've noticed the small smile that was showing up onto Logan's face the higher it went, because the moment SCP-999 began to massage Logan's neck, Logan bursted into giggles. "Cahahaharefuhuhuhul. Thahahahat tihihihicklehehes!" Logan told the SCP.

"Hey Mr. Sanders," Dr. ████ said through the walkie-talkie. "I don't know if you know this, but SCP-999 has also been nicknamed 'The Tickle Monster' by the staff." Dr. ████ told Logan.

Immediately following that helpful fact, SCP-999 abandoned its massages and started enveloping Logan in its orange slime! Logan immediately knew what was next. He could already feel the tickle sensations against his ribs. Logan's giggles continued to fill the room as the eye pods watched eagerly. The eye pods seemed to make Logan slightly more giggly. Why, you may ask? Because it was like having an audience! To top it off, Dr. ████ was also watching him get tickled by 'the tickle monster'.

"Ohohohokahahahay, Heheheheheh! Ohohohokahahahahahay! Thahahahat's ehehenouhuhuhugh nohohohohow!" Logan warned. SCP-999 seemed to have thought otherwise, because the SCP made a gesture that was similar to a shake of the head. SCP-999 brought an pseudo-pod up to the back of Logan's neck, and began tickling there as well. Logan let out a squeal and lifted up his shoulders. "NOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIHI SAHAHAHAHAID THAHAHAT'S EHEHENOHOHOHOUGH!" Logan reacted, squirming around as much as he could through the slime. Surprisingly, the slime was thick, but still movable! It...kind of reminded Logan of peanut-butter. Amazingly as well, none of the slime seemed to stick to him or detach from the SCP at all! So, Logan didn't end up with any slime pieces stuck on him.

SCP-999 began letting Logan go and making apologetic gurgling noises. Logan laid himself down on the floor and panted in exhaustion. Worried for their new friend, the eye pods rolled themselves onto Logan and jumped onto Logan's belly. Logan made a surprised yelp from the sudden feeling of pods on his belly, but quickly fell into a fit of giggles as the pods rolled themselves up Logan's ribs. SCP-131-a started letting out electronic babbles in worry.

"Ihihihi'm fihihihine. Cahaharfuhuhul whehehre yohohou're gohohoHOHOHOIHIHING! IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLEHEHES!" Logan reacted, falling on his back as his laughter hot louder. SCP-131-b had started attempting to climb up Logan's body, but was stuck rolling on the spot on Logan's belly. Logan's hands were squeezed into fists, as he struggled to not squirm too much to the point of knocking the pods off him. Now that Logan had let his giggles out of his mouth, he couldn't even try to push them back in. It was impossible. "GEHEHEHET OHOHOHOHOFF MYHYHY BEHEHEHELLYHYHY!" Logan begged. The yellow eye pod didn't seem to understand. So, it just kept on attempting to roll itself off the man's belly. This only made Logan's laughter continue. "THEHEHE ROHOHOHOLLIHIHIHIHING IHIHIS SOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHAHAHAD!" Logan yelled. Again, SCP-131-b didn't understand him through all his giggles. But what 131-b DID understand, was that the blue man's belly was very bouncy.

Thankfully for Logan, SCP-999 seemed to understand him perfectly. SCP-999 slid itself over to the yellow eye pod, and picked it up with one of its pseudo-pods. With the other pseudo-pod, SCP-999 picked up the orange pod. Now that both eye pods were no longer tickling him, Logan could finally get some air. Logan stayed laying on the ground, and kept on giggling amidst his breathing. When the eye pods were placed aside safely, SCP-999 picked up Logan and engulfed him in a big, cuddly, slimy, yet comforting hug. Logan happily took the hug, and began to hug SCP-999 back. SCP-999 began nuzzling its cheek into Logan's scalp, and gently ruffled Logan's hair with a third pseudo-pod.

"Ihi lohohove yohohou too...Ihi lohove yohohou tooho, buhuhuddy..." Logan told him, giving it a few light touches on the cheek. Logan gasped at how squishy and surprisingly soft 999's face was. "You're so squishy! You're such a squishy-squish! You're such a good squishy-squish!" Logan cooed in a high-pitched voice. SCP-999's eyes widened as its smile grew wider. If it were a dog, SCP-999 would've probably wagged its tail and jumped up onto its hind legs in excitement. So in happiness, SCP-999 gave Logan a few more tickles with its pseudo-pods. One of them tickled on the neck, while the other two went for Logan's belly. "Ohohokahahay. Ihihihi gehehehehet ihihit...Yohohohou lohohohohove mehehe toohohohohoho..." Logan replied.

To further prove the SCP's love for Logan, SCP-999 tickled Logan under the chin as well. Logan made a wide smile and let out a cackle, before pulling his chin away. When his chin left the pseudo-pods' grip, SCP-999 made a forth pseudo-pod and tickled under his chin on the other side! No matter where Logan would move his head, SCP-999 would tickle his chin. Soon, Logan was letting out little snorts as well! SCP-999 AND SCP-131 a & b were all excited to hear THAT!

Even the doctor had something to say about it! "Wow! Even serious men like you can snort when tickled hard enough! No wonder SCP-999 loves you!" Dr. ████ reacted through the walkie-talkie. Unsurprisingly, this bit of teasing, along with SCP-999's cooing and gurgling noises, were all making Logan's face turn red! Logan was unbelievably embarrassed. He should've known that something like this would happen. He should've prepared himself for lots of tickles and giggles from SCP-999! But...he didn't! And now, Logan was really regretting it.

"HEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHEHE! IHIHIHIHIT'S *Snort* TOHOHOHO MUHUHUHUCH! *Snort* HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Logan yelled through his laughter.

"Okay, okay, okay. I'll help you." The Doctor replied. Logan let out a breath of relief. He was finally gonna get out of here! He loved it, but BOY, was it tiring! Logan made his body go limp as he believed he was getting free.

But suddenly, a vibrating feeling could be felt! Right on Logan's hip! Logan squealed and attempted to reach for the walkie-talkie that was in his front, right pocket. But, SCP-999 had grabbed his hands and placed them above his head! How DARE HE! That doctor is SO gonna get it!

"WAHAHAHAIT! LEHEHEHET MEHEHE GOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIT DOHOHOHOCTOHOHOHOR!" Logan shouted, hoping the doctor could hear him through the cameras. But, the walkie-talkie didn't stop! It just kept on going and going! The worst part, was that it was right on the hollow of his hip! That's what was making it tickle so much! The walkie-talkie was right on a really bad spot! "PLEHEHEHEHEAHASE STAHAHAHAHAHAP!" Logan begged. SCP-999 looked at Logan with a confused expression. Why was he laughing? What was making him laugh so much? Even though the SCP loved hearing his full-blown laughter, it also wanted to know what was causing it. Thankfully though, the eye pods seemed to have figured it out! SCP-131-b rolled itself over to Logan's pocket and made babbling noises at the slime. When it got the slime's attention, the yellow pod stared right at the bulging pocket. The slime let out a few surprised gurgling noises!

SCP-999 let go of one of Logan's hands, and reached for the walkie-talkie. But, Logan beat him to it. Logan grabbed onto the top of the radio, and clicked the talk button to stop the vibrations. Then, Logan pulled the walkie-talkie out of his pocket, and slid it away from him. As the walkie-talkie slid away, the walkie-talkie buzzed and vibrated all over the ground. To make matters even funnier, SCP-131-a and b took off racing after it! It was like a new toy to them, that they could chase! Logan giggled at the scene, while SCP-999 made little happy gurgle noises.

"Thahahank yohohohou, Nine-nihihine-nihine." Logan said, giving the slime a few light pets on the head. SCP-999 happily melted into the calming touch. It appeared that SCP-999 liked being given touch as well as touching others! Logan smiled at the reaction it gave him. "Ihihi have aha gihihift fohohor yohohou..." Logan told SCP-999. The slime let Logan go, and began making excited gurgling noises while bouncing around excitedly. Logan smiled and opened up his backpack. Excited to see the slime's reaction as well, Logan pulled out a pack of M&M's, and a pack of Necco™ wafers. Upon seeing BOTH of the slime's favorite food, SCP-999's mouth started watering profusely. Logan smiled and opened up the M&M's. When the smell of M&M's filled the air, SCP-999 started bouncing around, clapping its pseudo-pods together and sliding around the room.

"Wow! What a lucky slime! That slime gets to have a bedtime snack!" Dr. ████ reacted from the walkie-talkie. Logan looked over, and noticed that the walkie-talkie was right beside him now. Then, he noticed the pods, happily squirming in place and waiting for a reaction. Logan smiled happily. "Thank you." Logan said before dumping out the M&M's for the slime. After the garbage ended up in the bag, Logan reaching his hands out to give them both 'good boy' pets. Upon the invitation, both pods came barreling over to Logan for pets. Logan giggled and began caressing, petting and scratching the little guys. "You too are such good pods! Yes you are! Oh yes you are! Such good little pods!" Logan cooed in a high-pitched voice. Both pods closed their eyes happily and deeply melted into the loving touches. The hands were so soft, so caring, so delicate! It even got to the point where the pods turned themselves so far to the side, that they just flopped onto the hands. Logan tittered at the reaction, and held them up in his hands.

"You know what? How would you like to come over and visit the safe SCP's more often? I think we need a person like you, who's loving, understanding, and very playful. Often the thing the SCP's miss, is the playfulness. And you seem to have it." The doctor offered.

Logan smiled and looked up at the slime. SCP-999 offered its pseudo-pod to Logan, and Logan calmly placed the orange pod into the slime's makeshift hand. With his hand now free, Logan picked up his walkie-talkie. "I'd love to!" Logan replied.

"Excellent! Would 20 bucks an hour work?" Dr. ████ asked.

Logan blinked, confused. "...What?" Logan clarified.

"Would 20 bucks an hour work? For looking after them?" Dr. ████ explained further. "You're getting paid to play with them. This is a one-time opportunity, that's being extended under the SCP Foundation. You minus well get paid." Dr. ████ further explained.

"I...I appreciate the offer, but..." Logan attempted to reason.

"Is that a yes for hourly pay?" Dr. ████ asked.

"I- No." Logan replied.

Dr. ████ paused his speech. "...What would you like then?" Dr. ████ asked.

"I'd like to play with them for less money. Much less. Heck, I'd love to just volunteer my time." Logan told him.

Dr. ████'s eyes widened. "...Are you serious? You want to volunteer your time to play with a bunch of unknown SCP's for a few days monthly?!" Dr. ████ clarified.

Logan smiled. "Yes. As long as they're safe, I'd love to do that." Logan told him.

Dr. ████ didn't know what to say. "...Wow...I-What can I even say to that? Other than...thank you!" Dr. ████ reacted, unable to properly process the information he was hearing.

"You're welcome. I'd love to help. I love these SCP's. I don't normally form bonds with people very quickly, but this...was an extraordinary experience." Logan told him.

Dr. ████ smiled. "I'm glad you agreed to my invitation." Dr. ████ said.

"I'm glad I did too. Though, who can turn down a chance to visit a predicting pen, a surgeon teddy bear, a coffee machine with endless beverages, a couple eye pods and a happy slime? I certainly wouldn't." Logan told him.

Dr. ████ let out a chuckle. "I'm glad to know." Dr. ████ replied.

Suddenly, Logan was pulled out of the conversation by an alarm clock in the room. Logan looked at the time.

[8:30 PM]

"That's the 30 minute warning for workers. It's their time to ready themselves to head home. You can choose to leave if you want. If you are going to leave though, I'd like you to take the pods back to their chamber." Dr. ████ told him. Logan looked at the pods, and noticed they had woken up and were ready to go.

"Okay. I'm gonna take them back then." Logan told the doctor.

"Alright." Dr. ████ said. "Have a good rest then." Dr. ████ told him.

Logan smiled. "Thanks, you too." Logan replied. Then, Logan picked up his backpack, and began zipping it up. As Logan began to leave, Logan couldn't help but notice that the pods were getting slower and slower. Their eyes were starting to droop as well. So, Logan stopped in front of them, and opened up a small, front pouch. "Here. You guys can ride in here." Logan told them. Logan lifted up the orange pod first, and placed it into the pouch. Then. Logan lifted up the yellow pod and placed it in beside the orange one. When the two pods were ready, Logan carefully carried the backpack up to their chamber door. When the door unlocked with his key-card, Logan opened up the door and walked into the room. After opening up the sliding door with the key-card, Logan walked in and placed the backpack down. Logan carefully lifted each pod out one at a time, and placed it onto the kids play mat they had.

Then, Logan gave them one last good night pet before walking out the door...

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, Ashley, you have been accepted to AL for the role of Alastor Moody (FC: Nikolaj Coster-Waldau). Ahhhh, eeep! Welcome, Ashley! We’re so excited to have you join our group and happy that you’re so enthusiastic about it! I loved your application for Moody and where you see him coming from as a person. I think he’s going to add so much to our group and I can’t wait to see this grumpy gus husband of minnie’s on the dash! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home, we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — Ashley age — 25 pronouns — She/her timezone — EST activity level — My activity ranges depending on the day. I work a full-time job which includes 12+ hour shifts so there are some days when I’m not on until after a shift or only available mobile. However, I’m always available on my days off unless I run into other plans. I would say my activity level ranges on a scale of 5-7. any questions? — Thank you for considering my application !!

IC Overview

name — Alastor Alexander Mcallister Moody faceclaim — (i rly love the idea of Tim Daly, but he has 0 resources, if you have any suggestions for resources let me know !!) Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Ewan McGregor, David Tennant, Oscar Isaac age — 48 years old; 12 April gender — Cismale sexuality — Bisexual patronus — Eagle boggart — Lord Voldemort. If anyone else asked, Alastor would claim that he doesn’t have a boggart because he isn’t afraid of anything. However, his boggart is the one person that Alastor is actually afraid of. The one person that he would have loved to be the one to end himself.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

(+) Brave – Alastor knew from a young age what his future had in store for him and he never once shied away from his destiny. Coming from a long line of aurors, he knew that one day he’d be one himself. His father taught him that fear was a weakness. That it had no place in an auror. Moody faces some of the world’s most dangerous criminals without batting so much as batting an eye. He faces down his enemies and to this day no one has beat his record for the most captured Death Eaters placed in Azkaban.

(+) Confident – He knows that he is the best that there is. Alastor has honed his skill and he has practiced all of his life to do exactly what he’s doing now. There’s a reason he believes that his ideas are (usually) the only ones that matter.

(-) Paranoid – Alastor trusts only a handful of people. Within that handful, the only person he truly trusts is Minerva. He has a very paranoid disposition, rarely trusting others – no matter how dedicated to the cause they may be. He often carries around his own flask to drink from and rarely eats meals that are prepared by others due to a distrust of being poisoned.

(-) Inflexible – That being said, Alastor has a difficult time bending to others wills. Whenever he gets a thought in his head or an idea, he prefers to run with it because he assumes that he knows best. He doesn’t like to listen to others and sometimes feels that it is a waste of time.

character biography — (all of this information is redacted because Alastor destroyed all of his records)

Alastor’s future was decided for him before he was even conceived. Coming from a long line of aurors, he had a lot to live up to. From the moment that he could walk and talk, Alastor was learning how to live up to his parent’s name. He was learning how to be better. It started with lessons from his father. Alastor would sit at his feet and listen as his father told him his most exciting and dangerous stories. His mother taught him how to read and gave him books which taught him more. By the time that Alastor was shipped off to Hogwarts, it was clear that his parents were expecting big things.

When the sorting hat was placed on his head, it had a decision to make. Take this boy’s bravery and place him into Gryffindor or listen to his wit and place him in Ravenclaw. In the end, Alastor was placed in Gryffindor. During his school years, Alastor met Minerva who became his adversary. The two argued about everything and he found her to be a pain in the ass. It was no surprise that years later, he should fall in love with her. In his sixth year, his mother and father were murdered on a mission, but Alastor never showed any signs of grief. He merely put his frustration and emotions into his training. Another reason to persevere. During, this time, he continued to keep his eye on the prize and scored an ‘exceeds expectations’ on five out of 6 of his N.E.W.T.S. He began training as an auror the moment that he stepped out of Hogwarts and into the real world.

With as much confidence as Alastor has in his abilities, to some he may come off as conceded. He doesn’t listen to other people’s opinions, however, and often fights with everything in him. He has a terrible time showing his true emotions and often stands guarded even around those that he trusts the most. He doesn’t cope well and usually uses alcohol to cope. Alastor is considered to be one of the most successful aurors, having contributed to more than half of the population of Death Eaters in Azkaban. He prefers not to kill or use the unforgivable curses, but he does what he has to do.

When Voldemort fell, Alastor didn’t believe it. There’s a part of him that still doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t like peace; it makes his fake leg hurt more. Alastor leads the auror’s office with an iron hand. He doesn’t like the politics of it so much, but he prefers to have a say in how his co-workers are trained. In addition to this, he leads the Order with Minerva and Kingsley. He has opinions which he rarely stays quiet about but sometimes he has a difficult time convincing others to believe in his opinion.

plot ideas — 

(1): I didn’t include Alastor losing his eye because I would love for it to be potentially included within a plot and to get to explore that particular plot !! I think that it would be interesting to see how he deals with losing his eye and then the prosthesis after

(2): I would also love to explore his more paranoid side and possibly see him get into trouble for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong and/or causing trouble due to a miscommunication

extra —

https://www.pinterest.com/galaxiesofmuses/hes-mad-alastor-moody/

here is a mock blog !!: https://auroralastormoody.tumblr.com/

[multiply014]

31 Days of CoAi Prompt Fill 8 of 31:

System Administrator, Multiple Realms, Transmigration, World Hopping

As Shinichi rests in the pure white space between worlds he had since been used to, he calls out to his system, “Hey… Haibara, if I gather enough points, I’ll really be able to go back, right?”

Haibara, his system, answers, “... For the thousandth time, yes, that’s what it says in the shop: exchange 1 million points for APTX-5141, the resurrection pill.”

“Ok, just confirming.”

The day Shinichi Kudo met the men in black in Tropical Land that fateful day that is, for him, literally lifetimes ago, he died. When he woke up, what greeted his eyes was this pure white nothingness. He had thought this was the afterlife. A voice quickly told him no, though.

That voice was Haibara’s. She had introduced herself as his system: a sort-of intermediary to the powers-that-be that are offering him a chance to go back to that day in Tropical Land, doubling as his assistant, his partner in completing missions in the worlds the powers-that-be throw him into in order to collect points.

It’s hard to define her. The closest in his world would be… Siri? Alexa? Sophia? But a million times sassier and saltier.

Sometimes he thinks she’s alive. Or was alive. He had asked that once and she had answered then, “I think I’d remember if I had been anyone or anything but this. But I don’t, so.”

When he asked her again, she had said, “Yeah, right, stop flattering me because I’m not going to help you for free ever again.”

Shinichi would like to say he had lost count of how many lives he has lived by now, but he hasn’t. He has done 142 now, and he has yet to earn even a half of what he needs to get to go back. When he thinks about his end goal, it makes him unbelievably tired, so he asks the same question, over and over again to Haibara. When he hears her tired too, it makes him laugh. Less tired.

Haibara’s voice echoes in his mind as she continues, “I’d tell you if something changed in the shop, so stop asking.”

“Can’t you just give me the pill?”

“If I could have, I would have—”

“For me? That’s so sweet of you!”

“—just to shut you up, since you’re getting annoying with all the repeating questions! Are you sure you’re not the system between the two of us? You talk like an NPC; download some new dialogue, would you?!”

Shinichi laughs, “Hey, hey, don’t be mad. When you’re mad you get extra salty. Your virtual wrinkles are getting deeper.”

“How would you know, you can’t even see it.”

“Oh, I do. In my heart.”

“Ha ha, very funny, now get your ass moving and do some missions so we can leave this blasted space already.”

Feeling rested enough, sadly at the expense of his system, Shinichi switches gears into business mode in a snap, and asks her, “What are the available worlds?”

Haibara, far too used to him by now, not that she ever had difficulties syncing with him, doesn’t miss a beat as she replies, “There are three: a futuristic setup with an intergalactic war backdrop, an ancient setting with magical swords and charms and a crumbling kingdom, and...”

“... And? Why’d you stop?”

“And a modern world, suspiciously similar in terms of time period and setting to the one you’ve come from based on what you’ve told me.”

“Then what are we waiting for? You know what I’ll choose, right?”

“The third world has… special conditions.”

“Just tell me.”

“‘Assistance withdrawn’ is what it says. No further explanations. … Kudo-kun, this doesn’t look good. I advise against it.”

“... Haibara, you’re still not telling me something are you..?”

“... 100 000 points on completion of mission.”

“What’s the mission?”

“Redacted.”

“That’s a tenth of what I need Haibara. I can’t pass it up.”

“... ... Ready to go, then?”

“Yeah, you’ll be there in case something happens anyway, so I’m not really worried.”

“The world literally says assistance withdrawn, genius. I’m not sure if I can even if I would want to.”

“Which you wouldn’t, I know. But you can find a way, I’m sure, if you really need to, since you’re the best system, right?”

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“You’re a genius system, right?”

“Argh, shut up already, idiot, let’s go finish this quick!”

“You say you want me to do missions to get out of this space, then you say you want to complete missions to get back to this space. Women, really..”

“...”

“Nah, I think it’s just you that’s so confusing! You’re so special, Haibara!”

“... Transfer in 3… 2...” “Haha, don’t worry it’ll be fine! I won’t run around so much this time since you’re worried.”

“1...”

Shinichi’s vision goes black.

Shinichi wishes he can say he’s used to the heavy influx of information the moment he wakes as another life in another world, but he can’t. It’s as painful as ever and it makes him dizzy and disoriented.

It takes him a while to get a hold of his bearings. He first checks his surroundings—stuck in the woods at night after orchestrating a car explosion is a fairly new situation but really not something so dangerous once you’ve lived more than a hundred lives in more life-threatening roles.

The silence is something new for Shinichi, though, since usually, by this time, Haibara would be rattling off a list of do’s and don’t’s for this world’s mission already.

Thinking she’s still mad, Shinichi injects as much seriousness as he can when he asks, “Haibara, what’s the mission and what’s the quickest way to achieve objective?” Haibara had always caved when they needed to get things done.

When she still doesn’t respond, Shinichi… blanks out. ‘Assistance withdrawn’ echoes in his mind.

He feels nauseous. He calls out to her anyway, “Haibara, let me know if you’re there. You don’t have to help me. This is not ‘assistance’, just let me know if you’re there.”

An hour passes and she still hasn’t responded. He’s only realized he’s been shaking when he notices he had stopped. He says, as loud as possible in his mind, to her, “Haibara, don’t stop trying, ok? Let me know, as soon as you can. As soon as possible hopefully.”

When Shinichi stands up, an unfamiliar black prompt with green text shows in his vision, “Mission: Take down the Organization.” It’s not the usual dull gray and black he’s used to seeing 142 times now and he hates it.

He accepts.

He’s going to get this done and get them back to that damned white nothingness in record time.

Ah, he’s never felt so angry before.

[katherineshep]

How about notebook, parchment, and dedication? Please and thank you :D

WRITER ASK MEME, PART 1 Notepad: can you write anywhere or do you have to be in a specific place and mood to write? - I used to have the times when the place or means didn’t matter) The ideas just flowed through me and I had to be very fast to catch their tails and pin them to a paper or phone) I could ride some extra train stations if I felt that the idea is too good to let it falter while I’m walking home) I could be awake through half a night, tapping my old 12-digits phone keyboard like crazy. I could write while walking somewhere, write in the middle of the lesson or even in the middle of a talk (my friends showed patience in those moments, because when my mind is on the idea, I’m not able to be fully present in a conversation until I let the idea out and find peace) Then there was a long period of time that made me nervice, and eventually it weared me out physically and mentally. Nowadays I need a silent spot and a comfortable place with nothing to distract me from writing. I can also boost my inspiration with a specific playlist, meant for giving me Mass Effect/Shakarian feels. Parchment: How often do you or your personal life influence your writing? - It would be weird if I had no influence on what I write, because, hey, it’s me writing it)) - If it’s the question about whether I put the experience of my life into the writing, the answer is “on some part” (and anyway every writer, even with the most limited experience in life, puts a part of themselves into the text, because the writing is a product of a person’s psyche and the psyche is shaped with the life circumstances, so any text would be a reflection of a particular writer’s way of thinking). Usually my characters live on their own and they can easily have very little of my own traits, I try to not do self-inserts (it’s great that all people are different: if we all thought as one, it’d be a very boring world, wouldn’t it?). I can use some events of my life as a basis to some character’s decision or reaction, yet it will be only one side of that character. If I lived through something fundamental that my character is about to go through, I can give them the exact view “from the inside” (and it’s always great when you can give a character a very real thing you actually felt once). But the writers don’t necessarily need to live through some events to get the specific emotional state (I had a veeery wide range of the feelings I could just imagine prior to my stressful period of life, now it takes extra effort to get into some very intense condition of mind if the story needs something extraordinary). If I need to write a story with some heavy drama, I extrapolate my feelings about just a similar situation from my life (if I had that similar situation) and usually it works just well. And for the cases of the experience you can’t relate to, there are always imagination and research) - Fun fact: sometimes, when I get stuck on a scene, I voice it or even fully play it through to see if the character’s speech or reaction feels natural and if it’s actually fitting to this character’s psyche. Used to do it waaay before my acting study, intuitively, so I think every writer is a director and the multiple roles actor of their own))) Dedication: if you were to publish a book or multiple, who would you dedicate the book(s) to? - Oh, there could be multiple dedications: to people who helped me with information or redaction of the script, to people who were patient enough to just wait through my writing time (I’m almost non-communicable when I’m in the middle of writing, and that can last for hours) and not to create me distractions or obstacles, to people who contributed the most to me as a person and as a writer (I’m saying about, you know, the important personality changes we go through thanks to some people). If I ever get to do something valuable for the Doctor Who fandom (and I’m saying about something more than fics), I want to dedicate it to one amazing, very kind and very stoic young person who passed away some time ago, but left so much warmth, light and happiness in people around her, including me, forever. She introduced me to this fandom, but also we have known each other through the Internet for years before she showed me DW, and she was a unique person, one of the best people this world has ever known. She left her trace on this planet with her creations and her kindness to people, and I want to commemorate the gift of light she gave me. @ferociousqueak, these particular questions brought me back to some great moments I’ve had in my creative life that had been forgotten until today. Thank you very much, I’ve enjoyed reminiscing on those ❤❤❤

[shared-diaries-online]

Entry 15 - Gifts and Curses (Part 2)

January 1, 2019

Dear “Diary,”

         Happy New Year! … ? I mean, it doesn’t feel like a new year for me. I’m in the middle of this flirtation process with the most beautiful woman in the world who just happens to work in my office, but the office is closed for the holidays. Or not really, close, but it’s easy for “non-essential” staff to get some time off. And maybe I should be concerned for my job that I’m in that category, but I also know A LOT about what the higher ups do on their business trip. And maybe that’s really what’s going on…. That’s not important.

         A "new year” will never feel like a “new year” to someone who is as obsessed with the past as I am. And Ada is a big part of that. We never got any real closure, and I am desperate to hold onto anything that remotely seems like closure. That doesn’t usually work out, but I still try.

         So if last entry cut off a bit abruptly, I apologize. For one, it was getting too long, and two, I still wasn’t quite sure how to handle certain aspects of it.

         I mean, I want to put Ada’s parents on blast, but then again, I never bothered to get their side of the story. Maybe that shouldn’t matter when I’m going to such lengths to shield EVERYONE’s identity, and I have a vested interest in keeping it that way. However, that may only be relevant in a legal case, and I’m more concerned about ethics. And yet, I don’t think they were.

         I’m being judgmental, yes, but at least, I’m aware that my blood is boiling, and I’m inclined to lash out. I went to a Catholic mass on Sunday. I jump around. Like I said, I was religious once, studied religion, and now don’t know what I want to do or where I want to be. But Catholicism lost a couple points with me for the readings last Sunday…. Yes, it was the feast of the Holy Family, so I don’t know what I was expecting, but the first reading was that passage about children honoring their parents, how you have to do it, and how sinful it is not to.

         Here’s the thing: good parents should be revered just like the text says, even if they struggle with modern technology, even if they get sick with something like dementia, even when they struggle. Good parents did everything they could to help you. They taught you things like how to use a spoon, they guided you, they supported you, and they loved you. Also, you probably vomited on them once or twice. But no matter what comical or genuine challenges you threw their way, they endured.

         Not all parents are great parents, though. And that’s a problem we don’t always think too much about. In fact, it was likely something the scripture author didn’t think about. In some ways, it may be understandable. It’s not a malicious denial but a defensive one. Destroying the illusion of safety and perfection may cause an existential crisis of some sort. But Ada’s parent’s were pretty horrible, and you can bet they didn’t deserve one fricking bit of her respect, love, and obedience. They were monsters. Through and through.

         Here’s the thing: Ada didn’t know anything about her disease. Celiac disease is manageable, especially in a gluten-free-fad age. The most important thing is to avoid gluten, but the problem was her parents never explained to her what gluten was. They made it out to be this ever-present boogie man lurking in every restaurant, home, and non-Mormon church. Really, the main things to avoid are wheat, rye, and barley. There are other things, yes, but it’s not a daunting list. I learned it all in one afternoon, and I had a short attention span in those days. They never told her that. Instead, they spent all their time filling her with head with scary stories about a monster that actually wasn’t real. Oh and talking to wait staff? They told her that it wouldn’t be welcomed. She would be hated, which was horrible in and of itself, but they would also spit in her food, contaminating it and making her sick anyway. Because, yes, gluten could make her very, very, very sick. (On this they were right but literally only this.)

         So, yeah, they gave her permission to go everywhere, knowing full well she was too scared to. I think back to their grins when they were pushing her to come with us, and I want to punch their stupid faces. They got off of it, probably. They got off on their daughter’s misery. You can’t see or hear it, but I’m seething.

         Would all Mormons do this? Obviously not, but they used their religion to justify it. I asked them about it. After she died…. They were surprisingly unrepentant for religious people. So no, they weren’t good Mormons, and they weren’t good parents, but I’ll get to that.

         When I came into her life, Ada felt emboldened to go places with her friends. Only if I was there, and that was fine. Because I always wanted to be with her.  She was beautiful, wonderful, and warm. I was drawn to her. I loved her, and in time, she fell in love with me too. I don’t know how it happened, but we were sitting in a diner together, and we were each eating gluten free pizzas. The waiter had complimented her on being so supportive of me. She smiled her beautiful smile. Her eyes twinkled as the nightmare gave way to genuine paradise.

         Ada took a bite, smirking. Then she chuckled nervously. But at first, she didn’t say anything.

         “What?” I asked.

         “I think I love you,” she whispered.

         “Think?”

         “I’m scared,” she confessed.

         “I’m scared of everything,” I hastily replied. She chuckled again. “Really. Anything can go wrong at any time. Like now. In this diner. The ceiling could fall on us. A car could drive through this large window. Anything can happen, but I like being around you. You make me happy. I love you too. So…. whatever.”

         She reached across the table and took my hand. Just for a moment. And then she pulled back. She was always like that. One second she was there, and then she was gone. But not literally gone just emotionally/mentally. I wouldn’t say she was “hot and cold,” but she was hurting. And I understood. The entire world was a new one for her, and after about sixteen years of being told to fear it, she’d need time to get used to this new world. In my mind, I was meeting her half way. And that was that.

         Which is what I should have done for the most beautiful woman in the world who just happens to work in my office, even if she was just a coworker back then.  I shouldn’t have snapped at her in the elevator. Asking me if I had food allergies was the natural course of the conversation. I didn’t need to be rude.

         I wanted to make it right. And in my mind, that meant making sure she could participate in the lunches. I just didn’t know how. It was in the back of my mind as I processed expenses and invoices as they came in. Which is not great. Here’s the thing about accounts payable: if you pay someone too much, they are not going to tell you. Second thing: if you don’t have a contract making sure you can get extra money back, they ain’t going to give you a cent back. So you have to be careful, especially when the organization’s budget is tight, especially when you’re are a new job, and especially when your predecessor got fired for being careless.

         But when guilt demands your attention, you can’t help but oblige. I replayed that conversation on repeat whenever I was sitting at my desk, and still, I managed to catch a mistake on an invoice from one of the restaurants that we buy our lunches from.

         It hadn’t been a particularly good lunch, which might have been why I was so critical of the bill. And this wasn’t me being overly critical, either. Large sections of the pan of pasta were burned. There was no amount of money we could rightly pay for that, but we certainly weren’t going to pay for four pans when we only got (terrible) one.

         The guy (let’s call him Kevin) didn’t answer when I called to get a corrected bill. He returned my call an hour later, apologizing profusely. He might have thought I was a lot angrier than I actual was; it’s just how I come across over the phone. Not that I corrected him at all… Look, I wasn’t that angry. I just wanted a new bill that reflected what we actually got (on a quantitative level).

         But what I said was “Kevin, what would have happened if I actually paid this bill? Would you have done it again?”

         It was a genuine mistake, he swore.

         “How can I be sure?”

         With gifts of course! A free lunch (and a corrected bill).

         I accepted, though it was not my decision to make.

         Our HR department handled the free lunches, and by that, I mean our HR manager, who was the only person in the so-called department. To her credit, she was able to do the work of an entire department, but at what personal expense, I still don’t quite understand. Not that I ever asked, but when she’s snippy with me, I take it in stride and never expect an apology. Instead, I’m just surprised she didn’t do anything worse.

         After I got off the call with Kevin, I called her on the interoffice line. She sounded exhausted when she answered. I don’t even know what she said. It came out far too strangled for me to make sense of it.

         I ignored the plight I could do nothing about. “Did you order the lunch for next week?”

         She groaned.

         “Relax. I took care of it.”

         “Really?” she squeaked.

         “Yeah, one of the vendors messed up our receipt. He thought I was a lot angrier than I actually am, so free lunch.” I paused. “And one less thing for you to do.”

         She thanked me and a number of deities profusely. Clearly, she was having a moment that had little to do with me, so I slowly hung up the phone. It was awkward, yes, so I took a personal moment before I picked up the phone and called Kevin back to go over the menu. I wanted to ask him for things they couldn’t mess up, but I restrained myself.

         “We’re good to go,” I said. “And we really appreciate the gesture. It’s nice to know that you guys are going to make things right when things happen. Because that’s how life works. Things happen sometimes.”

         “We at [REDACTED] aren’t going to let ‘things happen.’ We take pride in our work. How about some cookies?”

         “Well, I’ve been told to not turn down free food.”

         “Gluten free or vegan?”

         I internally groaned. They couldn’t just have normal cookies? If you can’t cook pasta, I thought, you can’t get creative with the cookies. Actually, it was just a decision I didn’t want to make. The words “gluten free” set me off, and now all I wanted to do was disengage.

         “Just send one dozen of each, and label them.”

         My tone couldn’t be argued with, though I think Kevin only wanted to send one dozen cookies. But sure enough, the next lunch came and so did two dozen cookies: one gluten-free and one vegan. They came in white sharpies with large black letters declaring their defining characteristic. The words “gluten-free” are their own were painful to look at. So I turned away just as she—the most beautiful woman in the world who just happens to work in my office—walked in, bag lunch in her hand. She at least glanced towards the food, though the odds were she couldn’t have any.

         I watched her carefully. Far too carefully.  There was certainly no need for me to stare her down. I’d like to think it was because I was just so desperate to come up with some sort of an apology: a week’s old apology. That’s not a great justification for staring. There really isn’t one. But as I watched her, the gluten-free cookies caught her eye. I saw a twinkle therein. She smirked, glanced around (but didn’t see me looking) and grabbed two.

         I relaxed. It wouldn’t be too hard for me to make this right.

Digitally Yours (and may be again sooner than usually maybe…),

Alex

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Find my whole story on shareddiaries.online/red

[smoothshift]

Rental Review: 2019 Infiniti QX80, aka "Shamu" via /r/cars

Rental Review: 2019 Infiniti QX80, aka "Shamu"

I arrived at <redacted> Rent-a-Car at Bradley Int'l Airport on a cold, wet evening, having spent the previous several hours crammed into a series of very full 737's.

I had transitioned from 70+ degrees and sun in North Carolina to 45 degrees and rain in Connecticut.

My patience was already wearing thin when the rental concierge said they had just had a rush and were very low on cars.

In fact, they had no examples left of the compact SUV class that I had reserved. Immediately, the classic rental counter routine from Seinfeld started playing in my head:

"But the reservation keeps the car here! That's why you have reservations!"

"I know why we have reservations, sir."

"I don't think you do! If you did, I'd have a car."

I'd actually been hoping for an EcoSport. I was really hoping to see for myself if it really was as bad as they say. After my detailed exploration of the depths of econobox suckage behind the wheel of a Mitsubishi Mirage last year, I was ready to move up, get with the times, and see just how much hateful incompetence could be crammed under the raised roof of that killer of the sedan market, that automotive symbol of the twenty-teens or whatever we eventually decide to call this decade: The compact crossover.

Now it seemed that my ambitions were to be dashed. The rental rep was motioning at a white Grand Caravan, suggesting I could take that. My in-laws have one, and while it is a perfectly fine appliance, and I would never scoff at a Pentastar V6, a GC wasn't exactly what I wanted to be navigating city streets in. Besides, I've already got significant wheeltime in this generation of Chrysler minivan, along with every other generation going back to the '80s. That option was the polar opposite of interesting.

There was one other option. It was not novel for being a shitbox, not tossable, and probably no better at city driving than the Caravan. But at least it was unlike anything I'd driven before.

An Infiniti QX80. A full-size, old-school, body-on-frame, longitudinal V8-powered luxury SUV. A Nissan Armada in a tux. Even from across the lot it resembled a small mountain on four wheels. The rep offered to knock half off the upgrade. "Fine," I said. "I'll take it." I really just wanted to get out of the rain.

The Infiniti seemed to grow even larger as I approached it.

The gloss black paint glistened in the rain, and the bulbous front end brought to mind the nose of an Orca. I absentmindedly wondered if, made unemployed by the "Black Fish" scandal, Shamu had found part-time work as a model for Infiniti stylists.

I haven't seen a car that resembled a whale this much since the 1998 Buick Riviera.

Climbing aboard the beast, the impression became less like a whale and more like a ship that would have once hunted them for that sweet, sweet lamp oil.

Now I see why they call them Captain's chairs.

You don't drive this thing, you pilot it through the shallows.

I was disappointed to find normal turn signals instead of the semaphore flags I was hoping for.

Okay, that's enough boat comparisons for now, I think.

The odometer read just over 3,600 miles. The average fuel economy indicator read just over 15 miles per gallon. Oh well, I wouldn't be driving it much and the company was footing the bill for the gas I did burn.

Okay, driving impressions: Did I mention the boat thing?

As you would expect, the handling of the QX80 could be described as ponderous. Curb weight is listed as 6,140 lbs, after all. The steering was numb as one would expect, but not necessarily over-boosted. Actually, steering effort at low speed was surprisingly high. No single-finger 3-point turns here.

At higher speeds though, handling was pretty impressive for a 3-ton vehicle. I don't know for sure whether or not this particular vehicle was equipped with the optional Hydraulic Body Motion Control, but given the way it noticeably tightened up as I aggressively tackled an on-ramp, I think it must have been.

Power? No complaints there. The 5.6L V8 is rated at 400 hp and 413 lb-ft, and even in a vehicle this heavy, that'll do the job around town. The 7-speed automatic was a bit slow to downshift when I put my foot down, but once it did the V8 roared and the QX80 took off with authority. The Nissan VK56VD is a DOHC, 32-valve aluminum V8 with Direct Injection and variable valve timing & lift. It's about as advanced as an N/A V8 gets. I bet it's a real blast in a Q70.

On the rainy drive from the airport to the hotel, I came to appreciate the rain-sensing wipers, a feature I had no previous experience with. They actually did work as the rainfall varied between annoying mist and steady, also-annoying showers.

Arriving at my hotel, I discovered that parking Shamu wasn't too difficult, but I did select a spot off by itself to give myself extra room when leaving.

You can imagine my chagrin when the front-desk attendant informed me that hotel guests had to park in the underground garage. This was accessed by a ramp only slightly wider than the Infiniti's six-and-a-half feet, and once inside I observed two facts about squeezing a 17.5-foot long SUV around a tiny parking garage:

1) A good 360-degree camera system is a Godsend, and the QX80's system is good.

2) Every parking spot looks like a "Compacts Only" spot, sign or no.

After a bit of crawling forward and backing up, I managed to angle Shamu into a space. It fit, width-wise, just barely. Length-wise, not so much. After pulling forward toward the concrete wall until the front proximity sensor beeped angrily, I got out to find about a foot of Infiniti ass still hanging out of the space. Well, the best you can do is the best you can do.

Over the next three days I took several drives, and I was able to adjust to the Infiniti's massive size, although I was definitely always aware of it.

You know you're concentrating on driving a vehicle when it takes you two days to notice there's a sunroof.

The leather interior, fold-flat seats and power liftgate were all nice, but the infotainment system was quite cumbersome to use. I quickly gave up on the built-in navigation system and just used Waze on my phone. Since the radio seek button was a long arm-stretch away, I settled on an acceptable station and left it there.

The instrument cluster LCD was a low point. Low-resolution, and with limited functionality, it seemed more appropriate for a 5-year-old Sentra, not a luxury SUV that starts at $65K. The one on my mid-trim '15 Jeep Renegade that cost about a third of that is far superior.

At the end of my trip, I was not sorry to drop off Shamu. Vehicles this size are not my bag, baby, unless they say Chrysler or Cadillac and were built in the '60s.

My wife came to pick me up at the airport in her Fiat 500, and asked me if I wanted to drive, "If you think you can adjust." It was definitely an adjustment, but I managed. By the time we got home, I found I wasn't thinking about the QX80 at all. Instead I was thinking about Abarth 500's and wondering if I could manage to take my daughter camping in one. I reckon I'll just stick with my turbo Renegade for now.

So I didn't get to do another fun shitbox review, like I had planned for the hapless EcoSport. No one would call an Infiniti QX80 a shitbox. A beast, a boat, a whale, a mass singularity that seems like it should possess its own gravity well…all of those apply. But certainly not a shitbox.

Next time, EcoSport. Next time.

[burnsthroughherbookshelf]

So, bearing in mind that for me “years” are academic rather than calendar-this has been literally the worst year ever. Here is the highlights (or rather the low lights) and some lessons learned.

Warning-some of what I will share is a bit graphic and will be embarrassing for both of us…but much like Ilona Andrews I feel that it is important to be a little more honest and open about things in hopes that someone else gets what they need.

At the beginning of last summer my left nipple suddenly inverted. My dad’s side of the family has quite a bit of breast cancer so I am very consistent with my self checks. Since I was 35 and knew my first mammogram was coming soon anyway I called my gynecologist and had her order the test a bit earlier than was originally planned. To be honest, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds, you stand there and get your boobs squished feeling a little awkward and embarrassed and then it is done. Unfortunately for me I have very dense breasts so they couldn’t really see anything so they had to refer me for a fancier mammogram and a diagnostic ultrasound. The fancy mammogram still could not see anything, but the ultrasound showed some simple cysts and a complicated cyst in my right breast, and 8 small simple cysts in my left breast. It also found a 1.5×1.5×0.6 cm mass on my left breast that they categorized as Bi-Rads 3 which they consider probably benign…so I was recommended to have a 6 month follow-up.

While in the waiting game for this, in August Hurricane Harvey hit which completely borked everything up. Lots of stress all around. Our home made it through OK but many of our friends and loved ones were not so fortunate.

Then I tweaked my right hip/glute and gave myself a raging case of sciatica and piriformis (i.e. old lady hip) and spent the next 6 months limping around.

Then my grandmother took a turn for the worse. She died the weekend before Thanksgiving. Now I am not one to go to funerals but the cousin I am closest to called and requested my presence for emotional support. This meant that during Thanksgiving week I had to get myself, one of my sisters, and my mom from SE Texas to Illinois-flights were crazy so we ended up driving straight through for 14 hours. Not good with the raging case of old lady hip.

The funeral was the big catholic extravaganza. Enough said. Got to see family I had not seen in a while so it wasn’t all bad but definitely not the most joyous of Thanksgivings… and I picked up the plague.

SO there I am hacking, wheezing, feverish and limping and that is how December passed.

In the midst of this [redacted1] decided to divorce [redacted2], and [redacted3] decided to sue [redacted4] over [redacted5] so [redacted4] counter-sued over [redacted6]. (Family members have been redacted because I am not ready for more arguing.) Much stress and terror has ensued and [redacted1] not only closed [redacted2]’s bank accounts throwing bills into unpaid status, but apparently has a girlfriend my age now which is creepy and gross.

Meanwhile I was still limping around and trying to find my lost referral for my follow-up diagnostic breast ultrasound.

Lesson #1: When you are supposed to have a 6 month follow-up that requires referral, call the month before it is due to make sure it exists.

I got that referral straightened and finally got a referral for physical therapy for my old lady hip. Went in for my follow-up and started physical therapy right about the same time. Follow up ultrasound showed the mass had grown to 1.8×1.7×0.8 cm which then required referral for a biopsy. In the midst of sending the referral for that, the ice storms hit sending the SE Texas region into an uproar and shutting the cities down for days. Seeing as it was only 17 degrees out for days on end, the warmest we could get the house to was like 58 degrees with all the heaters on. Houses in this area, especially old ones, jsut aren’t built for that kind of cold. The first referral got lost so a second one was sent at which point in time I got frustrated and called the person I was getting referred to and they indicated that they were not in network and that they had faxed that information back to my gynecologist who somehow did not get it.

Lesson #2: Always verify the doctor you are getting referred to is in your network and save yourself some time.

So then my gynecologist sent a referral to someone in my network and it kept getting kicked back from my insurance company. Many phone calls were made between myself, my gynecologist, the doctor I was being referred to, and my insurance company to get it straightened out.

Lesson #3: Always verify WHO can make certain kinds of referrals as per your insurance company’s policies. Turns out while Texas BCBS allows gynecologists to make referrals for ultrasounds and mammograms they do not allow them to refer for biopsies, so I had to call my primary care doctor’s office and it turns out he had not been reading the reports and had no clue what was going on. Finally got that office to send a proper referral through.

So I showed up to the surgeon’s office for what I thought was for my biopsy. Fortunately I was pro-active and brought my scans with me. Unfortunately, the first question he asked me was where my biopsy results were.

Lesson #4: Always make sure they doctor you are being referred to knows EXACTLY why you are being referred.

So once we got that confusion straightened out (turns out other imaging centers often do their own biopsies, mine did not) they got me referred for an ultrasound guided biopsy. Took a bit to get that scheduled and while it wasn’t my favorite thing ever, it wasn’t that bad except for the fact I had a violent reaction to the steritape.

Here is what happens with an ultrasound core needle biopsy. You have to bring someone with you because they don’t want you driving afterward. They may let your companion sit with you through the initial talks and even the initial ultrasound, but they are very unlikely to let that person stay for the actual biopsy. There are likely to be three medical providers in the room with you; the ultrasound tech, a nurse, and the person actually performing the biopsy. They will ultrasound all over and find the best place to keep the ultrasound wand, which is usually right over the mass the closest they can get. This means that the biopsy kind of has to burrow through more tissue than you might expect. This is awkward but not necessarily a bad thing, because you want them to see what they are doing as well as possible. Then they will do a series of lidocaine shots that go deeper and deeper to numb you up. Then they put a giant hollow needle into you (DO NOT LOOK AT IT) and using the ultrasound guide it into the mass. And here is why they have the extra people in the room. They might have one person hold onto your legs and one person hold onto your arms to keep you still. Because what happens next is they slide a weird device into that hollow needle so it goes into the mass and it makes a loud weird snapping noise and it takes a piece of the mass out. They will do this at least 3 times. If you are still then the other people will stop holding you, or at least mine did. Then they put in a little titanium “clip” or BB to mark where the mass is for future imaging. Then they apply a lot of pressure to stop the bleeding and then steritape you up. Then they send you in for another mammogram to check placement of the “clip”. This may cause you to start bleeding again and you can ask for them to redo the steritape because you aren’t allowed to get it wet for the next day or so or to remove it for several days. Also, ask for a boob ice pack. One could wish for black and skulls and cross-bones, but they are the perfect size and shape for this, nothing you have at home is going to work so well…even though it looks like meemaws wallpaper.

Lesson #5: Take a second day off after a biopsy, don’t go to work the next day even if they say you can. You can’t wear a bra, you have to keep using an ice pack on and off, and if your biopsy entry site is in the side boob area, every time you move your arm you will inadvertently smack it. This is not weakness, it is self-care and it will save you time and trouble in the long run.

Also I got released from physical therapy and my hip is feeling much better.

Lesson #6: Don’t assume that pain and discomfort is normal, and if you have something in a place you can’t see on your own, like the side of your boob, have someone else look at it. And if something hurts, and you don’t want to take pain pills, push for other options.

Once the steritape came off, along with all my skin, I started feeling much better. And the result of the biopsy was benign. So one good thing down. Unfortunately, turns out the mass that they were tracking had literally nothing to do with why my nipple inverted. Yikes.

Lesson #7: Don’t ever assume what your doctors are focusing on actually has anything to do with your primary complaint. Stand up and explicitly ask whether or not the thing they are focusing on actually has anything to do with your problem.

So with that being the case they referred me for a breast MRI. I got that scheduled during spring break. Unfortunately, the day before it was supposed to happen they called me to AGAIN ask when the first day of my last menstrual cycle was.

Lesson #8: It turns out that breast MRIs must be done in a very small window, days 7-10 of your menstrual cycle. I don’t know how I could have prevented this scheduling snafu because I had no way to know about that requirement, so just consider this your PSA about breast MRIs, schedule them 7-10 days following the start of your presumed next menstrual cycle (i.e. 7-10 days after the start of your next period).

I got that rescheduled and then the next day (the day I was supposed to be having the MRI) was our 8th marriage anniversary and almost 18 years together which is half our freaking lives so we were all planned up for a fancy night out when I found out once of my best friends since we were 5 years old died.

Lesson #9: There is never as much time as you think there is. Take every chance you have to cherish the ones you love.

We hadn’t talked much the last 8 months because I knew she had a lot going wrong in her life and the last thing I wanted to do was dump on her the misery I have been just dumping on all you readers. Which was stupid, so very stupid, because I know she would have been there for me and maybe I could have been there for her.

This wake I went to of my own accord to try to perform one last service for her.

Which brings me to today. Today was the breast MRI. Let me tell you about breast MRIs. As you may know, MRI machines are uncomfortably small tubes to start with. But for a breast MRI they have this oddly contoured table you get put on which drastically reduces the amount of room in that tube. You can go here to see what that looks like. SO you have an IV in the crook of one arm while you are trying to crawl up on it with a gown that is open in the front to lay down on it. There is an open space where your breasts dangle down and a bar that goes between the breasts. Then once you are lain down and torqued into that odd position they have clamps on either side of your breasts to squish them in together into the bar between them. It isn’t super uncomfortable, mostly it is about like getting a mammogram. Then they slide you into the tube.

As I said though, small tube is made even smaller by this table. They asked me a question and I instinctively looked up hitting my head on the top of it. This made me look to the sides and all I could see was the walls of the tube…which made me try to lift up but I couldn’t because my breasts were clamped to that table. So I ended up a sobbing hysterical screaming mess and they had to pull me out so I could calm down and try again.

Lesson #10: MRIs are hard, breast MRIs are a little bit harder still (I have had both kinds so I know). SO if you have any issues with claustrophobia be, up front and don’t feel like a weeny, lots of people have this problem. Even if you think you will be ok but you sometimes have trouble with enclosed spaces, just go ahead and tell them because they know all the tricks for making this as easy as possible. What they ended up doing was taking all the blankets off me and turning a fan on me very high so I could feel the breeze. Yes it was excruciatingly cold, but it helped a lot. I also declined the headphones because they made me feel even more enclosed. My biggest take-away is close your eyes, breathe, and whatever you do-DO NOT LIFT YOUR HEAD UP. Just imagine it bigger than it really is and do nothing that might alert you to the true size and shape of what you are in.

And I say all that not to discourage anyone from following up. I just want people to know a little bit more about what the process is like. Yes it is scary, but it is less scary I think if you really know what to expect. And nothing about that process, awkward and uncomfortable as it has been, is worse than the worry and the waiting and the not knowing. So if you have been putting of your mammogram, or haven’t gone in for your follow-ups, please do, none of it is insurmountable but the worry will eat you alive.

So right now it is just more waiting. Which sucks. And I’ll admit that it all sucks. But I am putting this out here because almost half of all women aren’t getting the mammograms that they ought to be getting. And while I thus far haven’t had the very worst outcome, I have hit most of the high and low points and I can safely say it is all surmountable. 1 in 8 of us will end up with breast cancer, and your chances of a long and healthy life go up dramatically with earlier intervention.

As for cost, lots of places offer free or low cost screening mammograms, especially in October. Call all the local places and ask what their cash prices are, particularly at offsite imagining only type centers. Yes, based on my experiences you might have to be a bit more proactive with your own paperwork, but the place I went to did every day cash prices of $85. Even if you still can’t afford that, remember that 1 in 8 number, there are almost guaranteed to be people in your life who would be thrilled to pony up the money for you to get tested. And if not, there are organizations where their whole missions are to get people mammograms.

The worst year ever and lessons learned from a balky boob. So, bearing in mind that for me "years" are academic rather than calendar-this has been literally the worst year ever.