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mymistakewriting · 1 year

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i personally agree and relate so much with buck’s adhd + anxiety specifically so i was just wondering if you could go more in depth with those headcanons? adhd buck is so important to me and reading about it and talking gives ME dopamine lol. oooh and the volume control like getting called out on it would so trigger his RSD! and everyone LOVES going to trivia with him for sure hahah sorry this kind of turned into my headcanons but yeah what do you think??!

I'll answer that second ask you sent in separately because Oh Boy do I have some Opinions to share on all of it.

I absolutely adore getting to just sit down and scream about characters and their habits and their mental health and how it all ties together. And Buck has given me PLENTY to work with since I started the show. But specifically focusing in on his ADHD & anxiety & RSD?

Not only does he hyperfixate on random stuff that has no use he CANONICALLY does research on natural disasters after he's lived through them - he did so with the tsunami, he did so with the earthquakes. He even canonically references researching volcanos after the wildfire crossover with Lone Star where he made the trip to Austin to help. This man is a walking encyclopedia of information on natural disasters and traumas. But it's very much a coping mechanism. It's a "I survived this and I have no clue how or why, so I have to understand what the odds were and I need to be able to be prepared and help others better if I ever live through another one of these". It's a "if I understand this and why it happens and how best to survive it, then it holds no power over me". It's a "I can't be scared of this so I have to understand it instead." It's the kind of coping mechanism that I've only ever seen in people who have ADHD or autism - statistics over fear, because fear can only cause harm ESPECIALLY as a first responder. Fear can come later, accept he tries not to ever let it because that makes him weak in his eyes.

The anxiety definitely stims from childhood trauma - look at his parents and Maddie and tell me that their behaviors weren't the root cause of so many of Buck's bad habits and I'll call you a liar. His parents are the reason he's so reckless. His parents AND Maddie are the reason Buck 1.0 was clinging so tightly to the label of sex addict because it was hard for him to admit that he didn't feel good enough after being left behind by everyone he'd ever had in his entire life. And don't take this as me talking poorly on Maddie, but she's also the reason why Buck latched on so tightly to Abby. And Ali. And Taylor. And the 118 crew. She left when he was a teenager, left him with parents that they both knew were awful, and he kind of internalized it and now a few years down the line it's crippling anxiety and abandonment issues and he doesn't have an outlet for any of that. And I could go on for hours about how his childhood contributed to him being semi-verbal at best, and about how much of how he defines himself ties into how he was defined as a kid, but that'll have to be a whole other post because there are so many intricacies to it that it deserves it's own thing.

His RSD. Oh I love the portrayal they give for his RSD. Because it's not just canceled plans and being overlooked that send him spiraling like so many people assume when they hear the phrase. It's someone's tone changing or someone pulling away too soon when he gets comfortable showing affection. It's how he held on so tight until he just couldn't anymore when Abby left because she said she'd come back and she's never lied to me before so she'll come back, everyone else is being dramatic. I just have to wait.

It's how well he just gave all of himself to Ali. She helped him find a place to live. Helped him furnish it in a way that is shockingly out of character for Buck - none of those decorations when he was with her felt like him in the slightest.

It was how he tried to twist and change himself and his relationships to make things with with Taylor. He didn't bring Eddie up to her often, didn't bring her up to Eddie unless he could avoid it, didn't talk about work, let her use his place and his information and his everything to do her job even though it got him questioned there at the end by the Department about who her sources were. And it's there in how hesitant he was to end things. How much he looked like he was fighting himself when he did end things.

His volume control is such a small thing that never gets called out in the fandom posts I do see - the 118 is wonderful at it once they know him, they know ways to point it out without sending him into a tailspin. It's always a gentle cup to the shoulder or elbow or a gentle nudge of shoulder to shoulder or a soft redirection that requires a softer voice somewhere else. It's never a "you're being too loud" or an annoyed glance from them.

From people they save, though? Buck stutters a lot more around people they work to save, he's always trying to be conscious of everything because he's gotten those looks or gotten those annoyed comments time and time and time again until it's become one of his biggest insecurities.

He gives every bit of himself to everything he does, and it definitely makes his RSD worse when that just isn't enough.

#kieran talks #asks #anon #evan buckley #buck #911 headcanons #I had a lot to say about this sorry #I think I still have more to say but this was getting a little long

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mypunkpansexualtwin · 8 months

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This is a big one, going under a cut for several paragraphs of introspection and some brief mention of my last suicide attempt.

Hell of a thing, realizing this time last year was about the start of my Nuclear RSD Spiral that ultimately led to me trying to go play chicken with a freight train back in February with half a bottle of rum and a handful of sleep meds in my stomach to make sure I didn't flinch. Obviously I didn't, but I did get far enough that I had to drag my drunk ass off the train tracks and go stumbling back home to have the rest of my meltdown in peace and un-queue the suicide note I'd had prepped since last November. Fun stuff, crazy to think about.

Especially considering how I'm doing now that I've had the necessary wake up call from that whole situation and have finally started internalizing "hey, letting people see you hurting and hoping they'll decide you've suffered enough to deserve help is not the same as communicating your needs. Talk to people before it gets to your usual Talk About It After You Tried To Off Yourself About It. If it gets to this point again, next time won't be an attempt." (Fun stuff, lots to thank my grandparents for.)

And now I've got the right medication combo to help me keep an even keel. Wellbutrin/Vyvanse? Bad. Lamotrigine/Vyvanse? I might actually be a human being for the first time in my life. I've been getting a shower every night and brushing my teeth twice a day without fail since I started. And trust me when I say that's fuckin astronomical progress for me. Even when I found out it wasn't the case, part of me was still certain it was fake that people could just get up and do things without mentally screaming at themselves for anywhere between 2 hours to 4 months first. Shit, I can do it now and it still feels fake.

Anyways. The ability to Task was an expected improvement, as was the ability to regulate my momentum on said task better than without meds (ie, at fucking all). Although I figured it'd be a ways off to get this much improvement. I can put things down without freaking out (mostly) and I can pick them back up again after an interruption.

Another unexpected bonus too, I hadn't even thought to anticipate any change in another big factor at all. Like, not only did I not realize it was on the table, I hadn't realized that this particular table even existed. I figured this other issue couldn't improve with anything but another two years of therapy.

I've got a lot more control over regulating my emotions and the kind of obsessive, destructive thought spirals (usually RSD or my usual Leech And Burden thoughts or my brain cooking up scenarios to get upset about because they felt too real, or a fun combination of the three) that'd lead to me writing off entire days or weeks until I burnt myself out. Used to be these were so intense it'd just kind of gut me and I couldn't do anything but ride it out. Intense enough that I've had a couple mental health professionals tell me "yeah, no, it's not enough for formal diagnosis, but there's definitely strong evidence for OCD where the autism and ADHD overlap," one of whom went "right, that makes sense with what you've described about the last month, and speaking of the last month, i think we should consider going back to once a week since every three weeks hasn't been helping you." It used to be that the only way I could get these under control would be by heading them off before they got started or getting borderline blackout drunk in the middle of the spiral and distracting myself until I couldn't stay awake to think anymore. Both required sufficient distraction because every attempt at actually trying to take it apart and process just perpetuated it. Healthy, right?

But now, not only do the little things that used to sap my energy for the whole day now just breeze by like nothing (again, hygiene stuff), I can stop the spiral. They're not nearly as loud and sharp as they used to be and I can just... put them down. I've got the energy to do more and the control to just pick something else up until I'm ready. The bad ones still take a few tries, but that's huge after 25 years of "welp this is just the week we're having." And even bigger than that, it's already easier to pick it apart to find what needs fixing instead of just metaphorically cutting myself up while making a bigger mess.

It's also easier to not need my anger as a wall to keep between me and the people who have hurt me. For the first time since my granddad died, I can look at him and my grandmother as people through a sympathetic lense and still be able to say that the bridge there is burned and I won't be going back. I used to need to think of them as awful, irredeemable people just to keep from crawling back for their approval.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed about everything that's hurt me deeply enough for my therapist to go poking at in the wake of a PTSD screener saying "yeah we're not even close to done, try again next year." But it's not the only thing that's there, and maybe someday I might even be able to scrape out my own closure instead of starving myself waiting for apologies that'll never come. Cleaning out the bullshit associated with the hurt didn't kick off the meltdown it would have even a month ago. The little scar from an arm-clawing meltdown last November is just a bitter little emotional bruise that I can push right back to the back of my mind until the dirt-spot mark finally fades out completely.

It's easier to not hate over it now. I've got more energy now and can finally use it for better things. Why waste it turning people into demons when I know damn well even if I wasn't the only one who fucked up and hurt people, I still did exactly that. And yeah, there's stuff I'm gonna stay bitter over, on both sides of things, and probably still mildly bitch about when the irritation of it decides to pop back in for a visit. That feels like a fair tradeoff for something that did still very much almost kill me, but it's not gonna stop me anymore. And it's not even a matter of "the best revenge is letting go and living well" because in the half dozen cases that stick the hardest, that wouldn't even be revenge. Fucked up as things ended, it's not like I was hated. Hell, maybe I'm lying to myself when I go this far, but I'd like to think that most of those people would be happy to see me doing better, even if they'd promptly turn right the fuck around and pretend they didn't see me at all.

Or maybe things did fester to a point where there's just as much animosity as I had for them and they'd rather see me lose a game of chicken a few more times before they can let go. God knows I was bitter enough for a good while to think pretty goddamn frequently that I hoped they were in just as much pain as I was. So yeah, that's also fair. Maybe they don't care either way, and as much as that idea stings the most, it's still entirely fair.

Regardless, I've got better things to do. I've got some self love and self respect to cultivate after realizing I was never given any kind of foundation besides "If You're Not Giving Everything, You're Not Worth Anything." Joked about it for years, but only in the last month did it actually Click. Admittedly I'm still falling into some of the same thinking, although instead of "I don't deserve the love people give me unless I'm Being Useful, I'm a manipulative liar if I get it without earning it," it's more like "I can finally Do Things, so I can finally deserve my own love." It's a brittle crutch, but that just means I know not to give it too much weight while I get my feet under me and start building the foundation I actually deserve. Because people deserve love and I'm a people too, goddammit.

Anyways, this was a big long rant partly for myself and partly for the six of you who've paid attention and might wanna know how I've been doing. I'm still standing, let's see where it takes me. For now, I'm gonna go be gay with my girlfriend of 6 months as of last week.

#answers to questions nobody asked #not sure if i should put this one in the bitching tag just for archival purposes or not #give myself a way to look back on the whole mess and then have one bit like #okay yeah i almost turned myself into half a mile of mincemeat courtesy of the bnsf over the last year of shit trying to kill me #but i didn't and i got better shit now for surviving it #long post #suicide #suicide mention #logan's bitching again

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placeinthisworld · 11 months

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idk it is tiring to see tons of limited editions of albums, merch etc, but she’s a big artist. she wants to break records and have good streaming numbers. i don’t really see it as a money grab necessarily, just a smart decision for being big in the music industry and wanting to make your mark. other musicians do it too. it’s more of an industry problem than a taylor specific problem. and at the end of the day we don’t have to buy anything tbh, I’ve decided only to buy one version of each album on vinyl and am sticking to that. the songs will be uploaded all over anyway

I dooooo, yeah I get she wants to have great numbers and stuff but are 8 vinyl variants of the SAME vinyl for $40+ each really necessary??? What about the signed art cards “only for a limited time” but then are constantly put back on the website after the limited time, the $50 tee shirts that are made of trash materials and often have defects, exclusive CDs only available ONE venue and putting a 4 per person cap on it so scalpers can wait in for for six hours and sell them all on Mercari for $250+ each!!? Like yeah I get she’s a big artist but I also think she’s kinda the blame for this bc she’s been the biggest culprit of essentially sucking fans dry bc she knows she’s a big deal ajdhsjs. Like bestie doesn’t need to sell the CA version of midnights lavender as a whole ass NEW vinyl variant when it has very well been i circulation for months now, this just feels so greedy like girlie has so many fans people WILL buy her products the least she could is either make sure the quality is good or that the customer service is at least DECENT!! I have no idea if this makes sense but like I feel like everything from midnights has been a cash grab and I am SO annoyed by it. As someone who is a huge merch collector I feel like Taylor is just taking advantage of the fact that knows people will buy.

Like I don’t really collect/ care for merch outside of Taylor and Gracie so idk how other artists do for their merch/ cd/ vinyl variants but I feel like Taylor really made them popular (same w RSD ugh don’t even get me started) and it’s just so much less fun than it used to be do do anything :/

#answered #I am so sorry bestie I am a lil high and have gotten 8 hits of sleep within the last two days 🫶🏻#and I’m mad about this cd I’ll prob end up overpaying for #anon

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sadlittleratboy · 2 hours

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As it turns out nueropsychological testing is not an accurate way to test for ADHD alone.

You can't judge the memory of someone who's sitting in front of you for two hours and only focusing on the tests. You can't judge someone's ability to understand directions with ONE test. He tested my motor control with a finger clicking test. I physically lost my balance just from standing up in front of him. It felt off to me then, but I trusted the pros. You think I'd know better. He told me that not being capable of doing something wasn't my ADHD, it was a problem with my thinking. It's not that I can't, it's that I need to change MY perception. "If you can't clean your house hire someone." He says, when I can barely afford groceries. "If you can't afford it get another job." He says to a full-time worker and full-time student with chronic pain.

Of course, just trying harder, why didn't I think about that!? I'm sure a cleaning company will come deep clean my gnat filled house for an amount of money I can afford. I'm sure I can manage a second job when I'm barely managing this one.

Anyway, I got the diagnosis but it's wrong. I'm a mixed type, I fit the criteria, but my symptoms are more female aligned. He diagnosed me inattentive. I literally never shut up or stop moving but yeah, sure. I performed extremely well with motor control and dexterity. I am constantly losing my balance just standing, knocking shit over, and running into door frames. I scored above average at following directions, something I suck at because I get confused. I scored well on memory, but my memory is garbage. If I write something down I can remember it, and a lot of the memory tests were physical. One was drawing, and I'm a fucking artist.

He marked me down as possibly having a developmental or learning disorder. Graduated in the top 20 STUDENTS, not percentile, but STUDENTS, and with honors. I get brain fog and forget myself all the time, I call myself stupid because my ADHD makes me feel that way, but I'm really not. I know why the tests said that. I kept forgetting what I was doing and getting confused on tests that weren't factoring in inattention and struggling to follow directions. Rigid computer tests can't exactly account for human error. Apparently they can't even account for the disorder I was testing for.

What about all of the emotional symptoms of ADHD? The shit you can't observe in one 20 minute test, or in the two hours of knowing me. What about my rotting house, my yellowing unbrushed teeth, and my emotion regulation problems? I paid two of my bills twice last month because I forgot. I continue to lose track of bills and over spend. The sensory issues? The RSD, the auditory processing disorder? Of course he tested for THAT...in a quiet room with headphones and nothing else happening around me.

You know how sometimes symptoms are better or worse? I'm sure one test on the same day we met and nothing else can account for that, right?

I got the meds, I should be happy. As my father pointed out so, so many of us don't get diagnosed despite having it, and struggle for years. I know I'm lucky, but I was terrified of a wrong diagnosis. We shouldn't have to accept "okay". I can't get the accommodations I need because of an inaccurate diagnosis, not that the accommodations would be any good. I'm just frustrated. After years I still feel like I haven't been listened to.

Of course I can't pick them up until Thursday, because my money management is a fucking nightmare. Of course, he didn't test for that.

#adhd #actually adhd #adhd problems #adhd brain #adhd things

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sammygender · 10 months

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it’s impossible to describe adhd because sure if you start to say ‘oh i have trouble focusing’ or whatever it’s like. yeah some people are just like that. so much of the criteria IS stuff that applies to everyone. like everything i guess it’s the point where it becomes dehabilitating that it’s possible to differentiate…. but like everyone procrastinates to some extent and lots of people stress themselves out over work and get into a feedback loop where they don’t do it or put it off or try and do it but get bored. but it’s, like, when at first it’s just a funny little fact about you but soon it’s 2 days before ur exams and you’ve done legitimately nothing even though you’ve tried really hard and everyone around you is SO sick and tired of hearing about how you #didnt revise lol and can’t take the idea that you spent 2 hours staring at a past paper and stayed focused enough to do 2 questions seriously because just, like, put away your phone or tidy your room or WHATEVER. & you can’t explain it to anyone properly. & you literally have never been diagnosed with adhd & everyone these days self-identifies as adhd or something but it’s not like you’re just loud and hyperactive (even though you are and always have been loud and hyperactive) you’re just quite literally going to fail everything bc no matter what you can’t get yourself to work for a multitude of reasons (because when it isn’t the poor time management it’s the lack of focus and when it isn’t the lack of focus it’s the easily fixed mistakes and when it isn’t the easily fixed mistakes it’s the general disorganisation and when it isn’t the general disorganisation it’s the executive dysfunction and when it isn’t the executive dysfunction it’s the easy distractability and when it isn’t that it’s—) anyway whatever. and this isn’t even getting into RSD if that’s a real thing or social or sensory difficulties or WHATEVER. i want to kill myself

#oliver talks #adhd

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violindragon · 1 year

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nothing like being excited for a party and planning a ton of stuff like dinner only for ur closest friend to suggest it being just 2 hrs in the middle of the day ( even worse i just remembered he was at a mutual friends party for like 6 hrs the other day )

extra context / ouch , we used to hang out for multiple hours at a time and still want more time so him being like oh yeah just 2hrs HURTS ( 99% sure its mostly the RSD talking but yeah )

#violindragon.txt #<- new tag for me rambling #i have no irls following this blog and i Will take advantage of it

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msawesomeband · 1 year

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Tmi, but whatever.

My RSD is acting up and I am hoping by just processing it like this at least I can get control of my emotions or at least rationalize them a little bit. She told me that I should stop wearing my earphones at work and generally stop being on my phone. That and that she could sense that the kitchen has become sort of my safe heaven to chill when I'm at work, but I need to start getting it done quicker instead. And she would just advice me to do this because I do get paid by the hour and also, in my future career. That last thing was probably just a nice thing for her to say, I was scared after like: What if I get fired soon? Then I can't go on my trip, all my plans are ruined. I have to apply for jobs again, what if I can't find something I enjoy nearly as much? But here I am rationalising and comforted a little. Because so what? First off, if I was going to get fired, she would have definitely done it there. Or at least my aunt would warn me so that I could start applying for other jobs! Of course any thing else would be stupid! I can and I will just do that a little quicker, I was slow today but I did get a nosebleed and I was feeling a little ill so I have been a little slow in general I felt today. That is not going to be all days. And I just have to look at the clock more and set a timer for 30 minutes, then I still have 10 minutes to panic clean everything else and I can definitely keep that time! And fuck it, so what if I am fired! I can most definitely find another job like this. Especially now that I have experience in this field. And I would LOVE to work at like a warehouse again. There was something so relaxing about just doing that with some tunes or something in your ear. And sure, it might not be perfect, but it will be good. And who knows? Maybe even better pay or something! I can apply for teaching jobs that I am most definitely qualified for in January, and by then who knows? Maybe I will quit around March because by then our TV show will be bought by a network and me and my best friend will have to start writing it! Of course by then my performing career will be taking off, and after I pass the exam I will with all this newfound time on my hands most certainly write my book during the summer break and have that be published by 2024. yeah, that is what is going to happen. That is what I am manifesting.

Long and personal and me disecting my feelings. I dont always post these but I feel like with what I have now decided to manifest, publishing to people will make it true. And still if not, maybe I can still remind future me to stop overthinking it. It was a little bit of criticism yes, but that doesn't mean that it is the end of the world, and even if it was! It won't be the end of the world! I will probably be a blessing in disguise!

#personal #TW

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an-anxious-gay-mess · 3 years

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Here's my headcanons of what neurodivergencies the lab rats (and leo) would have if I had been allowed to write this show

Adam:

-ADHD and Dyslexia

-"What do you mean the letters aren't supposed to move around?"

"Uh"

"Are you telling me most people don't have to read the same paragraph six times???"

"Uh-"

- After he got diagnosed he actually became a bit more interested in learning! It helps that most people are actually working with him now instead of just reassuring him that he's dumb -Chase especially feels really bad for teasing him so much without realizing how hard Adam had to try and researches ways to help people like him study

-Adam still doesn't go out of his way to do well though, he's fine as long as he's passing his classes

- is almost never standing still. He loves swivel chairs and will spend hours just spinning back and forth completely zoned out before he realizes he should probably eat something that day

-the only time you'll see him completely still is when he's sleeping or super upset about something. He gets RSD pretty bad sometimes and will just shut down completely when upset

Chase

-Autism, baby!!

-Gets really bad sensory overload and has a lot of meltdowns if he gets too overwhelmed

-he gets frustrated with himself a lot when he gets sensory overload and will try to ignore it, which usually makes it worse

-He has a lot of stims but he typically will only do the more visual ones when he feels safe (mostly when he's alone or with his family if he knows they won't make fun of him)

-Just. Constant info dumping. If you're going to start a conversation with him make sure you have at least 15 spare minutes to learn about the history of needle work (or whatever he's been researching that week)

-hates eye contact but will force himself for the sake of being Professional, to the point where he makes himself do more destructive stims (like pulling at his hair) or even having a meltdown

-(his family yells at him for doing this A Lot "Chase please just put on the goddamn headphones why do you do this to yourself-")

-he was kind of embarrassed about being autistic at first and still tries to hide it most of the time to prevent people from bullying him about it, but after a while he learns to accept that it's not his fault people want to be dicks, and that autism isn't something to be ashamed of

Bree:

-dyslexia and anxiety

-She's the one I have the least amount of headcanons for whoops-

-i think unlike Adam she's really embarrassed about being dyslexic and goes out of her way to avoid talking about it

-this is partially because of her anxiety too: she doesn't want to bother her teachers or anyone so she never mentions anything about getting accommodations

-because of this she struggles a lot in some of her classes, but she spends a lot of time worrying about them and studying too

-she's had a lot of panic attacks at 3 am over trigonometry

-after a while of her grades getting worse the school guidance counselor probably pulls her aside and is like "you know we can give you extra time to do tests right?" And basically gets her all the accommodations she needs

-Bree is like "wow glad I spent 2 years building that 5 minute conversation up in my head and making myself worry so much I threw up multiple times"

-she generally tries to not let anxiety control her too much, and once she gets some help from her teachers she gets way fewer panic attacks over school work

-she even tries to over compensate by trying to appear like nothing worries her even though Everything does

-she hates when her brother's occasionally go on missions without her (like if she's sick or injured), and her anxiety will scream at her the whole time they're gone

-they're always willing to reassure her that they're okay, though, and will even update her over headsets when they can

-she also worried a lot that people around her are secretly mad at her or don't like her. Her family is usually willing to reassure her that they love her, but it does tend to put a strain on relationships she forms outside of them

-also I think part of the reason she latches onto texting so much (besides the stereotypical Teenage Girl thing) is because spell check is a godsend

Leo

-OCD and autism

-tasha: uh hey buddy what are you doing?

6 year old leo: idk stacking these blocks

Tasha: oh, okay, why don't we work together to make a big tower?

Leo: no. There must be Exactly Six blocks in each tower

Tasha: okay buddy that's great :)

-the lab rats are initially very confused by some of his rituals

-for example: when he turned the lights in a room on or off, he had to flick the switch 5 times. Or at night, he had to check to make sure the door was locked three times

-they asked him if that was something that most people did in the outside world, and he explained to them what OCD was, and eventually told them about a bunch of other neurodivergences

-"wait so you said you have something called autism too?"

"Yeah, it's what makes me do that thing where I flap my hands sometimes. A lot of people with autism will know a lot of stuff about a few specific topics and will hate eye contact and other people touching them, but everyone is different"

Chase: "tell me more right now."

-that's how they end up getting diagnosed too!

-Leo tells them about different disorders (including ones they don't have) and they immediately launch onto the feeling of Are You Telling Me Other People Do This?

-they go to Big D about it and he's pretty accepting right away

-they debate a lot at first whether they want to get professionally diagnosed, but then they decide that it would be a lot easier to get accommodations at school with a doctor backing them up

-where was I going with this I'm completely spiraling

#long post #lab rats #bree davenport #chase davenport #adam davenport #leo dooley #these are kind of ooc but i havent fully watched this show in a couple years lmao

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captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

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In Which I Project

Jon has some sort of neurodivercence and it is making work hard.

@janekfan

cw Jon is really really getting down on himself about what his brain is making hard, so cw for that and internalized ablism relating to things like rsd and executive dysfunction. Jon also takes this out on his coworkers, because that is how Jon can be. This chapter is a bit heavy with a hopeful end. If there is a chapter two, it will have a lot more fluff, promise. (The reason Jon doesn't have a diagnosis is because I am projecting and I am not 100% what all is going on in my brain, this is just my experience.) Also mentions of alcohol and food.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why is he like this? Why can’t he just fucking be a normal, functional person. Why does his brain behave like a backed up, broken drain. He can’t think today.

He’s been staring at his computer since 6:30 this morning. He’s been here eight hours. And it isn’t like he isn’t getting anything done. But it’s not what he meant to do.

He was going to check his email, record a statement, do some filing, check Martin’s work, then do some follow ups and check his email again before going home.

Well. He checked his email. Then he noticed a flaw in what he filed yesterday so he had to fix that. Then the loo was out of toilet tissue and he had to go chase down that, because the building’s maintenance tends to skip the Archives half the time. (Which is usually fine because it’s used by four fairly neat people, but doesn’t help when they run out of things). Then Elias had requested a meeting. And that sent Jon spiraling because he wasn’t supposed to have a meeting today. That was supposed to be tomorrow and while it’s nice that he doesn’t have to do that tomorrow it threw off his whole day and now he just feels like he’s going to cry or pass out or break his jaw by clenching it so hard.

He can’t do it.

He tries to make himself record a statement. He does.

But he can’t open the file.

He can’t.

He wants to scream in frustration. Which, of course, is when Martin walks in.

Jon doesn’t mean to yell. He really doesn’t. He doesn’t know where this vitriol comes from. Was he always like this? He doesn’t even remember what he says, just the acrid taste of bitter words on his tongue.

When Martin flees, he tries to open the file again but the color and whine of the lights breaks down on him and his dragging fatigue.

He tries to loosen his jaw. Wiggles it side to side. It pops, but ultimately goes back to tense. It’s starting to give him a headache.

He can’t do this. It’s barely lunch. He’s gotten nothing done.

He tries to open this statement.

He opens his email instead.

The library wants his books back.

He’s tired. He means to gather his books and bring them up, but he ends up cleaning his desk and making notes on half researched statements he forgot about yesterday.

That puts him off balance. He hates not finishing. It makes him feel on edge. Like the world is going to drop from below his feet at any moment. Like, in forgetting, the world has already dropped from beneath him, and he’s been walking on empty air and delusions. And if this has already happened, how can he be sure it didn’t happen before.

He finishes cleaning and files the loose statements away.

He finally remembers to drink some water.

He rubs his eyes against unshed tears and exhaustion. It’s too bright. Too loud.

He takes his books up to the library.

Hannah in the library tells him to remind Tim to return his books, she he does that.

Jon is. Edging towards …probably a nervous breakdown, if he’s honest with himself, by the time he stands before Tim’s desk.

And Tim isn’t going to relinquish his books without a fight.

“You can give Martin a rest or I’ll tell Hannah that you lost her books.” Tim crosses his arms.

It’s reasonable, Jon knows. He’s behaved childishly. This is more than warranted. But, unfortunately his brain isn’t working. He’s caught up in the disappointment in Tim’s tone, and again, the floor drops from beneath his feet. Stomach dropping. He tries to convince himself that, no, Tim doesn’t hate him. All he as to do is agree or apologize which he should do anyhow. But. But what comes out of his mouth is something along the lines of, “Tim, I’ll thank you not to try to run my department. This is hardly professional behavior. Who do you think Hannah is more likely to believe?”

This wouldn’t have been so bad, if not for the force and anger in his tone. Misplaced confusion and frustration and exhaustion.

He turns on his heel before Tim finds the words to argue.

This is it.

He’s ruined everything.

Tim will never talk to him again and Sasha won’t either because he was rude to Tim. And of course Tim’s mad at him because he was a prick to Martin.

It’s all his fault. He should have been able to stay on task. He’s an adult, damnit!

He finally opens the file but he hitches a sob before he can squeeze the introduction out of his tight jaw.

He can’t do this.

He can’t do this job.

He can’t sleep at night and work all day. Can’t even feed himself or get to the store once a week.

How the fuck did he make it through school. He’s a worthless mess.

Georgie knew it.

He wants to scream.

They’re talking about him. They must be. That shouldn’t matter to him. He’s their boss. Besides, he was right even if he was rude about it. Martin does make irritating mistakes. He could have been more professional about handling it, but he still had to say something. And Tim. Tim had no right to bargain that way. He has a responsibility to the library, and trying to use it as leverage against Jon is ridiculous.

But at the same time. There are the closest he has… had to friends. Tim was his friend. Right?

Had he made that up too? Has some memory of some earlier misdeed fallen out of the torn hole in the pocket of his memory where he looses things like hours, tasks, sleep, meals, meetings, half-finished statements on his desk.

Why is he like this?

He gets some more work done. But none of the stuff on his list.

He tries to make himself read the statement, again. But he doesn’t.

It’s late. He’s left with lingering taste of disappointment and discontent.

Today’s been a wash.

He looks angrily at his scribbled to do list on the neon sticky note, from the stack Tim gave him back in Research. Nothing’s been crossed off. Statement has been circled twice. He rubs at his eyes. Tries to wipe away the tension headache. Remembers to take a drink of water, finally. It’s been hours. It does help, a little, soothes some of the anxious desperation and crushing despair. He wonders how much of it would be soothed if he got himself a hot meal. How would it compare to the relief of finished that statement.

But…. he won’t be able to go home and sleep if he doesn’t finish, because he won’t be able to relax until he gets it done.

He allows himself 5 minutes to cry. He sets a timer.

It doesn’t help. Doesn’t even offer the release he’d been hoping for.

He dries his eyes with his sleeve.

He reads the statement. And scolds himself for taking all day to get to it. It wasn’t hard. It wasn’t even that bad. It was a foolish statement that reeked of mischief and falsehood. And he wasted his whole day avoiding it.

He cries again, then. No timer.

He leaves his office. He’s finally done with the day. It’s edging on 21:00. He feels like shit. Of course he hadn’t brought a lunch, why would he have enough brain cells to do that? He did make a halfhearted attempt at breakfast. But that was a lot of hours ago, and he’d barely managed a few bites before his anxious stomach had stopped him. He doesn’t feel hungry now, but he knows he is by the shakiness if his limbs, the over-lightness in his head, the irritation at himself still thick in his veins.

He still has to get himself home.

Then he hears footsteps on the stairs. He thinks about going back to his office, but the idea of going back in there makes his head spin. He’s spent too long in his office. Christ, he just wants to sleep. Just wants to be in bed without having to get home and make dinner or order dinner or shower or get in bed. He just wants to be there. Just wants to be there and sleep of eternity. He angrily brushes away a stray tear.

Of course, it’s too late now to try to hide, and eh certainly can’t hide how rumpled and tear-stained he is. So he stands there dumbly, some archaic part of his brain reasoning that if he stays still, maybe no one will see him.

Tim sees him. Tim is laughing on his phone, pleasantly buzzed, and fumbling for the jacket he most likely forgot before going for drinks. At least it’s still fairly early. At least Tim still cares enough about his job to wrap it up at a decent hour. He spots Jon, and hesitates. Jon doesn’t look like he’s doing well. He trails off mid chuckle. “Sorry Sash, I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Had fun tonight.”

What does he say to Jon, who’d been a right ass earlier. Jon, who is now teary and frozen, staring at him with exhaustion and mortification.

He makes a decision, making a conscious choice to make himself smaller and softer. “Hey, come back to mine, I’m going to buy you dinner. As my boss, you’re a prick, and I haven’t forgotten that. But as my friend, you need a curry. Maybe we can sort out my asshole boss and my upset friend at the same time, yeah?”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #timothy stoker #my words #my fic #hurt/ comfort #cw food #cw alcohol #cw internalized ableism

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

Note

Basil minnie here, can you make some ADHD Basil headcannons? I have a few, like how Basil will sometimes forget to water one of the plants and then proceed to apologize to it a bunch. Also he goes on long rambles about hyperfixations and things he is very obsessed with! One more is that he struggles with rejection sensitivity dysphoria and gets sad when his friends seem to be ignoring what hes saying even though they arent ignoring him. Most of my headcannons are kinda angsty and I need wholesome ones 🥺

Hey Nonnie! I love me some ADHD Basil (Even though that isn’t what I personally headcanon him having...we might talk about that in the future) for now I really like all the stuff you’ve said so far! Let me add some stuff of my own! Part of this is going to be a TW: Drugs

Basil doesn’t get diagnosed until he’s 18 years old. His parents had always been distant, and they didn’t see an issue. Their unwanted child got good grades and stayed out of trouble, so if he was out of sight he was out of mind.

They ignore the fact that Basil couldn’t focus in on a conversation unless he began it. They ignored that he couldn’t sleep, that his dreams were wild and frightening in their elaborate details. They ignored his bouncing legs, his tapping fingers, just like they ignored everything else about him.

Basil....wasn’t super happy when he was diagnosed. He felt like he had failed some unspoken test. Like he had spent most of his life trying to look just like everyone else, and now here was this obvious way he was different.

After more therapy and talking with some other people (Kel) who have ADHD Basil changes his mind and starts to view himself in a more positive light, but those first weeks are hard.

Kel and Basil are two ADHD BFFs. They can sit together and ramble at one another for hours at a time. Their conversations are so fast paced no one else can keep up, and they tend to interrupt and finish one another’s sentences a lot.

It’s actually a relief to both of them to have someone else that fires as fast as they do. Kel loves his other friends, but Aubrey usually cuts him off and Sunny doesn’t contribute as much as he just listens. Basil adds, changes the subject and leads Kel down roads he never thought

For Basil it’s great just to have someone who never wants him to stop. He’s spent so much of his life being told to stop, or that he’s too much. He’s never too much for Kel

They swap hyperfixations a *lot*. Kel learns all sorts of things about plants, and Basil learns everything about different dog breeds. He quickly is able to get over his fear of dogs, because Kel just babbles endlessly about training Hector, and Basil hangs on to every word.

Basil does have really bad RSD. Like debilitating. He spent most of his life just trying to mitigate symptoms by being the best friend he could be (How you get situations like what happened with Mari and Sunny....)

After he starts therapy and gets his diagnosis, Basil begins to work on his RSD. One of the main things is also working on his codependency, which means that at first, Basil doesn’t talk to Sunny. He doesn’t avoid Sunny, doesn’t try to pretend he isn’t there anymore like he did before, but he doesn’t seek the other boy out.

They’re both healing, and it’s clear that healing is better when done apart. At least for now.

Basil starts off working on his RSD in very small ways, just Kel Aubrey and himself going to get a slice of pizza. They had asked him if he wanted pizza, and Basil’s automatic repsonse was Yeah sounds good but he didn’t want it. He wanted to get something healthier, and a new salad place had opened up down the street from the plaza.

It was a simple thing, just a tiny little thing. No he wanted to get a salad, but the frightened boy inside of him just begged him to keep his mouth shut.

After multiple attempts to speak Basil blurted out his request. He hated himself for it, and he was sure his friends would hate him too, but there was a calm voice in his head that hadn’t been there a month prior. This voice reminded him that speaking up wasn’t bad, and that the worst they could say was no.

He was terrified, and halfway to a panic attack, but if Kel and Aubrey noticed they quietly both decided to keep their mouths shut. They each took one of his hands and began to walk towards the salad place instead, starting up a conversation about school

It wasn’t great, but it was a step towards better. Basil barely ate his salad, but he did enjoy the company of his two best friends.

#asks #anon #omori #omori headcanons #omori headcanon #omori basil #omori kel #omori aubrey #omori sunny #adhd basil #I like this a lot #but I see Basil as bipolar personally #or potentially just dealing with #some pretty severe childhood neglect issues #anywa #hope you liked it nonnie!!

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princeanxious · 4 years

Text

The Royal Librarian- Chapter 1

Chapter 1- “The Road to Perfection is Destructive.”

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Future analogical, future sidelines royality, sidelines established dukeceit, background remile

Word Count: a little over 3k

Warnings For This Chapter: Virgil’s got anxiety and is a bit self depricating, brief mentions of panic attacks, Virgil stays up and works himself for so much longer and harder than is healthy for a normal person in one session, boi highkey overthinks a ton when he’s not occupied. Don’t work yourself for 24 hours straight like Virge does, it’s not good for you.

Minor notes on Virgil’s mental state in this fic: Virgil has ADHD(as reflected by my own life experience) that shows up in different ways here and there, and he suffers from RSD(Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) which drives Virgil’s need to be perfect or fail till he damn near collapses from exhaustion, which also just feeds into his chronic anxiety. Thats all for now!

Chapter one(you are here!)|Chapter two(coming soon!)

Bonus stuff:

-the Rough Library Layout

[[MORE]]

Quiet. Such a word was practically synonymous with Virgil’s existence. The young adult practically grew up in silence, sought quiet spaces out like a moth drawn to a flame. And like a deer spooked by a snapping branch, he often fled from loud groups larger than three. He had been a quiet child, content to lose himself in any book he could get his hands on, reading for hours in any quiet atmosphere he could find. Alone, and content because of it.

So it was really no surprise he picked up a local library apprenticeship when he’d turned fifteen, and was a well-versed and well-read librarian by age nineteen. He had his lifelong friend Patton to thank for making him apply alongside hundreds of others to the opening position of the Royal Astra Family’s castle Librarian position, a year later. And, to be fair? He’d only applied because he’d been sure his resume would never have been seen, let alone selected, if only to simply placate his best friend’s excited begging.

He didn’t account for Patton’s connections as the Royal Head Cook to shift that margine of possibility to reach at least being seen. Though Patton chalked it up to the fact that he’d always talked about Virgil around the royal family anyway, long before the position had needed a replacement. It seemed to be just Virgil’s luck that ‘Virgil’ just happened to be a very uncommon name.

The panic attack that followed after he received a letter that his resume had been selected alongside a select few others for further evaluation had been a rough one. Still, he held out hope that his perceived inexperienced youth would save him, the stress and responsibility of such a serious job couldn’t be trusted with some ambitious kid like him, could it?

And, besides, it’s not like Patton’s constant praises carried that much weight, right? That's just how Patton was, a personified ball of sunshine! It was why Virgil was never surprised to hear Patton mention the royal family and staff by name on accident, or mention a silly story involving them in private, he’d clearly become close to them as the Head Cook. Though, the more he thought about it, he realized that.. Well, it’s not like the royal family had known Patton as long as Virgil had. Patton could be too trusting, and tried to see good in everyone, and well, perhaps the royal family trusted his judge of character over just simple skills. And wasn’t it just peachy that Virgil was lifelong best friends with said ball of personified sunshine? (Not that he’d ever trade their friendship for the world, never. It was just Virgil’s problem that he could never seem to tell Patton no, huh?)

Eventually, a nerve wracking week passed before Virgil finally had his answer in the form of an acceptance letter hand-delivered and an accompanying uniform and granted permissions to traverse and move into the castle grounds, all ordered and signed by King Thomas himself.

Apparently, his suspicions over Patton’s influence had indeed won out.

Three days later, Virgil finds himself silently saying goodbye to the home he’d made on his own, not as terribly forlorn over the loss as he thought he’d be. The small cottage he’d been renting didn’t feel much like home to him, anyway, not like a library did. Still, there was a longing to hide from the large change crashing into his life, and thrice he’d hid under his covers and cursed his weak will against Patton’s puppy eye’d pout. Eventually though, he’d talked himself out of his panicked haze, just in time for his first shift the following day.

“I can’t believe I let Pat talk me into this.” The ravenette grumbled as he leaned to the side. Using his weight and momentum to shift the sliding ladder he was perched on, he slid closer to the next book he’d been reaching for.

“Become the castle’s new Librarian! It’ll be fun, he said! It’ll help sooth my anxiety to work with even more books and even less people, he said, the head cook who works with at least 20 other staff each hour to maintain a steady meal plan for the entire castle staff daily!” The little librarian huffed to himself, resignation seeping out with each controlled breath.

His first day hadn’t been an easy one, and though he hadn’t expected it to go smoothly, he certainly hadn’t expected it to become such a mess. It wasn’t his first time working as a librarian, but leave it to good ol’ Virgil to let life make his days as eventful as possible!

From the moment he woke to the time he had his lunch break, not that he would actually willingly take a break nor need one yet, the day had been.. busy, to put it lightly.

It’d been storming when he woke, and though he was on time to get ready and leave, he’d only realized that his umbrella had broken the month prior. It had left him to make a twenty minute dash in the pouring rain when he found no other options.

He was plenty grateful for a bathroom stationed just inside of the library building entrance, where he hurriedly rushed inside to change out of his soaked attire. He’d been smart enough to pack away his official Royal Librarian uniform into a water resistant bag with a few additional dry essentials, and let his common clothes get soaked instead.

In a short six and a half minutes, Virgil was changed and mostly dry, though there was little he could do about his damp hair aside from comb his fingers through it. With his wet clothes packed away, he made it into the library on time to begin his first very long shift.

He’d already been sworn into secrecy when it came to occasionally dealing with the royal family’s history and artifacts in the future, and with his first and hopefully one of very few ever meetings with King Thomas out of the way, he was officially the new Royal Librarian. And now, also the only. As he was told in no certain terms that the last had retired and fucked off into obscurity before anyone had realized that the library had been left in disorganized chaos.

The old coot had apparently made his own system for everything, and hadn't bothered to write any of it down. From sorting sections to assigning books to genres, none if it clear and often very, very unorganized.

Virgil’s first big task was to comb through the entire damn building and use a new system, one that made sense. He was to reorganize every book and every section, using the appropriate genres and sorting. This way the royal family could actually functionally use the library and not waste time sorting through chaos.

This was where Virgil found himself three hours later, on the verge of a minor mental breakdown as he’d just barely sorted an eighth of the books on the main library floor into the Dewey Decimal system.

He’d had plenty of empty tables at the beginning of his journey, and right now every single one had some few stacks of books on each, labeled accordingly. Aside from his muffled ranting and the pattering of rain, the library was relatively silent.

It was odd, being alone in such a gigantic library. It almost reminded him of home.

He paused for a brief moment, having set down the final few books taken from the bookshelf he’d been working on. He’d gone through just one row of 6 bookshelves, and had 7 rows left to go, and that was just barely counting putting books back in the previous shelves as he went. A whine left him as he realized just how long this project was going to take.

“Fucking fuck.”

Somewhere between the second row and the third, Patton had stopped by to check in on Virgil. He found him hard at work sorting the fiction section on the left side of the building, tables half forgotten as Virgil attached unobtrusive non-damaging number labels to each and every book. Stacks of books lay carefully placed on the floor against each shelf, seperated by label and lack of label.

“You already look so at home, Virge!” The head cook whisper-shouted, though the sentiment was not necessary as the only other being in the library was the librarian himself.

“Yeah yeah, hush you. I’m a bit too swamped for ‘I told you so’s at the moment. So, what's up?” Glancing up at the taller man, Virgil briefly noted a small package wrapped in cloth was held in his hands.

“Can you spare a minute to eat?” Patton giggled, but Virgil knew better. He’d known Patton since they were kids, it wasn’t a question. Or a decision to be made. With a sigh, he placed the book he was holding in its place before turning to the cheery cook. “Yeah, I can.”

“How’s the kitchen today?” He asked lightly, having eaten the light meal quickly in order to get back to sorting. Patton hadn’t commented, nor had he been shooed away when Virgil began sorting again. He contently sat out of the way to finish his own lunch, his original goal having been accomplished.

“Oh! It’s going great today, honestly. Not too many mishaps from the newbies today either, so that's a bonus! And well, you know, making mistakes is in human nature but, they’re learning so quickly, I’m so proud of them! They’ll be taking my place by fall, just you wait and see! And, well, Roman stopped by earlier to swipe some snacks for Prince Logan, his brother, and himself. You know, the usual.” Patton chuckled, and if Virgil had looked, he’d seen the besotted look Patton always had when he talked about the head knight of the prince, he’d seen it a hundred times and was bound to see it a hundred or so more.

“Oh, speaking of,” Virgil butted in playfully, “I’ll finally get a chance to meet this knight and shining armor you’ve been swooning over for over a year now, huh?”

He watched Patton’s freckled face flush bright red, sputtering and then coughing on his mouthful of food. Virgil just cackled delightedly, stepping over to give Patton a few hard pats on the back to be sure his friend didn’t choke.

He laughed again when Patton gave him a pout and a soft “You’re so mean to me, Virge!” Eventually Virgil was able to placate Patton with a gentle hug, and the cook was sunshine and smiles again.

A finished lunch break later had Virgil finally sending Patton off, back to the warm bustling kitchens in the main castle building while he moved on to the next portion of his task.

He quickly found the steady back and forth rythme soothing. Pick a few books up, put them away. Pull a few books out, sort it by number as per their section of genre, set it in the right place. It was a blessing to find that there was just enough of a consistency to the previous plan that he could find up to five to six books in the same category in a row, and each set of books could be similar in subject, usually ending up just one section away. Often was the wayward book that found itself out of place, though he had assumed that these were often books just placed back haphazardly considering their subject patterns.

Often the most scattered and random books had ended up being of a few select categories. Without fail, he found that it would end up being a book on Space and Astronomy and/or Mathematics, in-depth Anatomy of Plants and Animals, young adult Fantasy Adventure novels, or Horror novels. It was.. Sort of odd, how there had been no section for each and all of these books, and yet there were so many evenly scattered. Perhaps that had been on purpose then, not haphazardly placed. But why?

Too busy to think deeply about it, he designated spots fitting each book type, and decided he’d figure out what he’d do with the puzzle later.

It was 6 pm by the time he’d finished the fourth row, and Patton had stopped by briefly to check on his best friend. He watched Patton’s merry expression drop some, concern seeping in as he took in his best friend’s progress.

“It’s almost 6:30, Virgil. Have you had another break yet?” He asked, watching his best friend continue moving back and forth. “Aren’t you tired? It’s been a little under 12 hours at this point, kiddo.. dontcha think it’s time to call it for the day? I mean, you’re already halfway there!”

“Library hours, at least Librarian work hours, don’t end till 9. And yeah, I guess I’m a little tired? But I’m in the zone, Pat. You know how I get when I’m in The Zone. If I stop now, who knows how long it’ll take me to finish sorting the other half?” Virgil rambled, half distracted and still trying to keep a vice grip on his concentration. “And besides, King Thomas said he’d be checking in on me tomorrow.”

“But Virge, you know he doesn’t expect you to have it done in one day. Thomas isn’t like that! That’s why he gave you a whole week to settle in, so you could move into the Library’s living quarters-which you haven’t done yet, might I add!- and get the library situated.” Patton stood stiffly, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. Virgil was as stubborn as he himself was when his mind was made up.

“Look, Pat.. just, I’m sorry. You know I hate to worry you. I’ll try to stop at 10, go home and get some rest, and tomorrow i’ll move my stuff into my new home here. And, i’ll take a break from sorting for a few hours. Okay?” Virgil reached out, taking Patton’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He let Patton pull him into a tight hug, and didn’t resist when Patton briefly rubbed at his tense shoulders.

“Okay. Just, take care of yourself, Virge, okay? If I find out you stayed out an hour later than 11 pm, you’re gonna be in big trouble mister!” Patton giggled, lightening the mood the way he knew how.

“Yeah, yeah, hear ya loud and clear, Dad.” He watched Patton beam at the nickname, and moments later he watched Patton disappear behind the library’s main entrance door as his friend left him be, reassured. Virgil gave a heavy sigh, looking down guiltily at the stray book clutched in his hands.

“Let’s just hope ‘trouble’ just means a week of disappointed reprimands like last time…”

Hours later, Virgil’s head jerked up from his sorting as a father clock somewhere in the library dinged, signalling 10 o'clock. Biting his lip, he walked to the front doors and examined his options. He found he could lock the library from the inside, and pulled down the shutters. Briskly, he moved to cover each large window with their thick drapery, finding the adorning cloth thick enough to keep the low artificial light from seeping out. He dimmed the inner library lights so the library looked closed, but otherwise the building was still functioning from within.

Unless someone else had keys to the doors of the library, no one would know that the librarian was still stationed and working within. No one could see out, and more importantly, no one could see in. Which meant that Virgil was safe from Patton’s wrath if the Cook came to check on him, temporarily at least.

“Fuck, Patton’s gonna be so mad..” He muttered to himself, leaning against the librarian’s desk with a deep sigh. He’d briefly admired the beautiful desk earlier in the day, from the intricate carving to the beautiful dark mahogany. It would serve him well in the future, he hoped, after the thorough ‘grounding’ he knew he was going to get from Patton.

He shook his head to free his thoughts. There was no sense in getting in trouble and feeling guilty about it if he didn’t do anything to learn from in the first place. It was time to get back to work, and if he was lucky, he’d finish the main body of the library by the time his next shift started. Then, he could try and play it off, like nothing had ever happened, he’d just keep Patton out of the library till tomorrow to hide his finished work.

11 pm came and passed as he worked, and when he looked next at the clock, he found it was nearly 4 am. Tired but determined with only one row left, Virgil trekked on with a new vigor. All-nighters weren’t anything new to Virgil, not in the slightest. He was a creature of the night who rarely got a full night's rest to begin with. And sure, it was rare he worked his body so hard and for so long, but fixations were hard to break once in The Zone, it’s not like he could feel it past the hyperfixation haze.

Patton had often told him off for it when they were young, but as time passed they’d come to realize that’s just how Virgil was. Laying down did nothing to lure his mind to sleep on even the tiredest of nights if his insomnia had something to say about it. Better that he used the extra time to be productive, rather than spend 6 hours tossing and turning in bed, numbers and thoughts crowding in his head, and only getting up more restless than before. Patton often just tried to ease the aftermath if he could help it.

Sliding the last book into place was like sliding a final puzzle piece into a massive puzzle. The triumph of accomplishment had never felt so good, not like this.

Though, he quickly found himself aimless not 10 minutes later, seeking errors to fix and lost books to give a home. His brain wasn’t ready to let go of it’s fixation just yet, but as each second crawled by, he found himself recentering into the real world.

His body ached, and he was exhausted. His stomach gnawed at him weakly in hunger and his eyes watered from staring unblinkingly for so long. He eyed the chair behind the librarian’s desk, his desk now, he reminded himself.

“Screw it.. The Library’s sorted enough, I've got the rest of the week to make it perfect. A ten minute nap won’t hurt, right..?” He huffed to himself as he pulled the window curtains open one by one. Shuffling over to the main library doors, he unlocked them and raised the shutters. Soft morning sun rays fluttered into the connected windowed hallway just beyond the doors. He smiled at the tiny beauty of life, spotting the main library windows letting in the same comforting, dappled light.

Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he plopped into the chair at his desk, finding it soft and comforting. Leaning forward, he rested his head on his arms, and under the fluttering morning light, succumbed to sleep’s gentle embrace.

Unknowing of the rude awakening that was soon to come.

Chapter two

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