too tired to google

Random thoughts Slytherins have

• Is it acceptable to say gucci and fam in the same sentence?

• I’m gonna be the most aesthetic

• actually, fuck that

• I just want to go home

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

• I’m just gonna pretend that didn’t happen

• ew look at that person over there… breathing like a bitch

• I’m too tired for this

• I’m gonna shove a cactus up your ass

• Google that shit

• Is it possible to get high off crispy onions?

• fuck this

• Maybe if I say ‘fuck me’ more often when I do something wrong, someone will say ‘I’m trying’

• Why are people so stupid sometimes?

• I’m back bitches, missed me?

• how come no one ever misses me

• you’re all gonna be sorry when I’m richer than you

• CHECK IT OUT THIS CHILD ACTUALLY LIKES ME

• I hate hugs

• If I don’t get a hug in the next two minutes I’m literally going to start crying

• wHy Am I cRyInG

• fuck this, fuck you, fuck that, fuck me

• Your rules don’t apply to me

shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit

• I like being alone

• I hate being alone

• If you tell me what to do one more time I swear I will slap a bitch

• Well fuck me up and call me Florida

Two Nights Stand

Summary: (Modern Au) After a bad breakup, your roommate insists that you need to a one night stand to end your dry spell and take your ex out of your system. But what happens when you forced to spend time with your one night stand?

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1446

Warnings: This is vaguely inspired by a movie of the same name,. Readers thoughts are in italic;

A/n: Thanks to @drinkfantasy for being my beta. You rock.

Originally posted by mebeingbored1

We need to talk.” Your roommate says getting in your room and sitting on your bed “Can it wait a few minutes, Wanda? This episode is almost done.” She groans annoyed, turning off the TV. “No, it can’t, you watched two whole seasons this week. You need to get out more, have fun and get laid. Really, when was the last time you got out of the house?”

You straighten up your sweater, sitting up on the bed, “Yesterday, to go to work.” She rolls her eyes at you and you feel like a kid that talked back to her parents. “Sure, you go to work almost every day, but when was the last time you got out the house to have fun?”

You don’t answer her because you don’t remember. Your life lately has been going to work and going home. “See, you don’t even remember. Look, I know that since you and Nathan broke up things are hard, but you need to go back out there. Have fun, do something crazy.”

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Liberty and Justice (NSFW)

Eggsy Unwin x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Kingsman/Avengers AU - The Avengers are a branch of the Statesmen located in New York, Eggsy and Merlin have come to the states in search of Harry and you have been assigned to work with Eggsy to help find the man who may have kidnapped him causing Bucky (Sergeant) to get a little jealous.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: DONE! If there are any glaring grammatical errors just let me know and I’ll fix it in the morning. I’m too tired right now. I pulled these images off google to make this gif so I don’t know who the original artists are. If you do let me know and I’ll credit them. Glad I finally managed to write this because I honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to do it at first but I’m (sort of) pleased with the result. Also, this is still a reader fic but because everyone in Kingsmen and Statesmen going by code names the reader and the Avengers go by code names. Just trust me on this.


“Are you fucking serious? I have to go back there?” Eggsy groaned, throwing a small tantrum.

“Yes Eggsy, you and I have to go back to see the Statesmen, they are the only ones who can help us find Harry.” Merlin sighed. “But don’t worry, we are going to see the New Yorkers this time, not the mid-westerners.”

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Tumblr translations I've encountered through the past six months...

- “Do you have any proof?”
- “LMAO GOOGLE IT! I’m too tired to educate you 😴😴😴”

Translation: “No, I don’t have any proof, and the fact that you’ve made me realize I have come to this conclusion without any evidence bothers me.”

- “How are you being an activist?”
- “Have you not seen my posts!?!”

Translation: “I either am not able to actually be an activist or haven’t realized that participating in a hashtag isn’t activism.”

- “__________ is a Nazi and a fascist.”

Translation: “This person disagreed with me and I can’t define fascism.”

- “The right to free speech doesn’t prevent you from consequences!”

Translation: “What I’m saying is completely factual but don’t you dare make ME face consequences for what I say.”

- “Go back to Reddit!”

Translation: “I’ve blocked you for making me question my beliefs.”

- “Okay, I might have been wrong here but you are only proving my point…”

Translation: “You might have proven me wrong, but I’m in denial.”

- “That’s (insert prejudice of choice here).”

Translation: “You’ve drawn a character I like in a different shade of color / you disagreed with a minority or a woman / you shipped a character ‘incorrectly’ / I’ve been shown to be uneducated on the topic at hand, but I’m in denial / you listened to someone I disagree with.”

- “Reverse oppression isn’t real.”

Translation: “It’s okay when WE do it.”

- “Listen to minorities!”
- “This minority disagrees with you. Shouldn’t I listen to them?”
- “You have to realize your opinion isn’t the only one.”

Translation: “You’ve made me realize that people of a certain trait do not think the same and I don’t understand how that can be. I also didn’t realize 'listen’ doesn’t mean 'agree’ so I’m trying to block out this dissenting opinion of someone who I believe should agree with me based solely on the fact they are a minority.”

- “Bad post OP. Yikes.”

Translation: “Bad post OP. Yikes.”

im still slightly drunk so before i go to bed im going to categorize what kind of drunks different ds9 characters would be

Sisko: philosophical/giggly drunk. Will go off on a tangent about some idea he’s been thinking on, which you WILL get lost halfway through, ending with a very serious look before dissolving into laughter.

Kira: a danger to herself and others drunk. will become convinced she is invulnerable and capable of anything, managing to rope others into her poorly thought out ideas.

Jadzia: happy go lucky drunk. just glad to be there. smiling all the time. will go along with whatever Kira is up to.

Julian: weepy, emotional drunk. every little thing starts him reminiscing over stuff from years ago. feels the need to tell everyone how important they are to him. huggy.

O’Brien: argumentative/fun drunk. can go either way. get him worked up over something and he won’t let go of it, but is otherwise just there for a good time.

Odo: you’ll never notice drunk. even if he could somehow get drunk he’d be so focused on not appearing to be so that no one can tell. the kind that would blackout before you’d guess he’d had anything to drink.

About Zimbits and Last Names

So I see a lot different headcanons that people have for Zimbits when it comes to mariage and taking the others last name.

People seem to love to imagine who would take the others last name. I’ve a lot or du said where Jack takes Bittys name, some where Bitty becomes a Zimmermann and even some interesting mashup of the two names.

But as a French-Canadian, these all seemed really wrong to me. I’ve lived in the greater Montreal area my whole life and let me tell you: people in Quebec don’t take their spouses last names. No one does that here. I think there’s actually a law against it (but don’t take my word for it, I’m on mobile and too tired to find a source right now, google it)

So it seems really alien to me that Jack would just willingly go and change his last name or expect Bitty to change his because it’s just not in the culture here. Our last names are our own and it would seem strange for anyone to change it. I’m not saying Jack would never agree to changing his name or Bitty taking his, but please consider that being Québécois, Jack probably wouldn’t even think about it and would assume that both would keep their names when getting married.

Please use this information and add more realistic and interesting dynamics when writing about the subject!!! Feel free to message me if you guys have questions

anonymous asked:

olá amo sua arte <3 será que consegues adivinhar que língua é essa? :p

PORTUGESE DETECTED

THANKS GOOGLE TRANSLATE

(I’m too tired to guess lol and I really want to understand what everyone is sending me <3)

uh i really hate how people here judge other people based on a couple of posts they’ve seen. i was called cold and mean just because i was too tired to properly answer an ask about something they could’ve found on google. i was called negative because my mental health wasn’t ok and made a few posts talking about it. but it’s ok i can get over such misunderstandings and i could explain myself back then because people actually messaged me about it. what i hate much more than that is talking about others behind their backs??????????????? spreading rumors and misinformation on purpose??????????????? that’s making me so sad. and paranoid. but also very angry because it’s one of my closest friends on here who people are talking bad stuff about????? i’m just. i have no words.

azlinne  asked:

'It hurts, stop It! STOP IT!' bim goog

((I know you love evil Bim sweetie so…take my evil baby))


The plan was perfect, the participants even more so. Google was an easy target, everyone knew it, because the phrase “Okay Google” made him subservient to any command given by the person who said it. He was also a good target to have, considering the entire security of the ego’s – and Mark – were controlled by the android.

Bim had taken it all into consideration.

When he started following Google, learning his routine, he knew it would be hard to pick a good time. He needed to find a time when Google was alone, but someone would be coming by soon enough that it didn’t go wrong. Google followed a mostly set routine every day, but the egos that he saw during the day could differ drastically.

Chose the wrong ego and the entire plan would go up in smoke.

Chose correctly, and Bim would soon have more controlled than anyone would know.

It all had to be done at the exact right moment.

Bim got his chance after only two weeks of observing Google. Both Fridays in the afternoon he would go to Dr Iplier’s room and take a stock count so he could order fresh equipment for the Doc to arrive the following Monday. It was the perfect time to strike, especially with the Doc so close.

Google didn’t even react when Bim joined him walking down the hall.

“Hey Blue, where are you going?” The TV host asked, falling into easy rhythm with the android.

“To see Dr Iplier.” Google replied, “I’m doing a stock count.”

“Okay, Google.” Bim murmured.

Blue eyes widened and Google stared at Bim, realising what had just been said even as his protocol took over and he went rigid, waiting for a command. Bim watched him carefully, trying to make sure with simple glances that the android was definitely under his control.

“Activate secondary objective against me.” Bim ordered, voice firm with a shake of fear.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Google launched himself at Bim, slamming him into the wall with such strength that Bim felt his shoulder dislocate. The pain was intense, but he managed to just bite back a scream. There needed to be more, more blood, more injuries before he would call out for Dr Iplier to come and save him. Luckily, Google seemed more than happy to comply.

One hand curled into Bim’s perfect hair and Google began to slam his head against the wall, dazing him. When blood began to flow Google turned his attention to Bim’s throat, one hand wrapping around it and choking him. The other hand flew out into Bim’s solar plexus, winding him badly and Bim tried to double over, which only helped Google’s attempts to choke him.

“Don’t…stop me…using my…voice.” He managed to gasp.

Google released his neck immediately and both hands went to hitting Bim in soft, sensitive parts, driving such force into him that there was a flash of fear in Bim’s mind that this might have been a bad idea.

Still, he ploughed on.

“Whatever I say next Google, disregard as an order.”

The android gave no sign he heard him, continuing to drive his fists into anywhere he could on Bim and Bim knew it was time for this to end. Google had done enough damage.

“It hurts!” He cried, “Stop it!”

When Google continued, Bim forced a wry smile. So, the order had worked then.

“STOP IT!” He screamed.

The cries were loud enough to bring Dr Iplier from his office and immediately he ran at Google. Since Bim’s original order had been for secondary objective focused on him, the Doc was in no danger, but he was still no match for bringing Google down. But Bim had accounted for that as well, and as Google grabbed his hair again to slam his head into the wall, Dr Iplier shouted, “Okay Google! Stop!”

Again, the reaction was instantaneous.

Google stopped, releasing Bim’s hair and standing straight, waiting for Dr Iplier’s commands. Bim sank to the floor, allowing the pain to wash over him and sobbing into his knees.

“Okay Google, power down.” Doc ordered quietly.

Eyes dimming, Google stood in the middle of the hallway, completely shut down and waiting for the order to be turned back on. Doc immediately crossed to Bim, kneeling beside him with a worried expression.

“Doc.” Bim gasped, spitting blood out onto his hand as he did, “I think I’m dying.”

“Hey!” Doc protested weakly, trying to force a smile as he helped Bim to his feet to get to him to his room, “That’s my line.”

Bim didn’t remember much after that, passing out before he even made the threshold of the Doc’s room.

When he finally awoke, the pain was gone and his head was clear and Bim felt victorious. The only downside to the plan was the actual pain he had had to go through, but Google had reacted exactly how he had expected, as had Dr Iplier.

The Doctor was standing by Bim’s bed, reading his vital signs, and relief broke on his face when he realised Bim was conscious.

“Bim…I was worried about you.” He murmured, “I need to run some tests to make sure there is no lasting damage, okay?”

Nodding mutely, Bim waited for Doc to come back, and followed every instruction to the letter. In truth he felt fine, knew he would since Dr Iplier could heal the egos should he wish to, and Google was in the corner of the room, charging at a wall socket but still powered down.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Bim asked, his voice raw from the choking.

Dr Iplier glanced at Google, looking too tired and too worried all at once. “We’re going to hold a meeting over it. We can’t understand what happened, why he would suddenly attack you like that. Maybe something in his wiring I’m not sure.”

“I should-.”

“You can’t go to the meeting Bim.” Doc interupted, “You need to rest. Don’t worry…I’m not sure we’ll be powering him back up anytime soon, not with this happening.”

Bim frowned and avoided Doc’s eye.

“Hey,” Dr Iplier said gently, gripping Bim’s shoulder, “Don’t blame yourself.”

“Thanks Doc.” Bim whispered.

Dr Iplier left him alone after that, pottering around until it came time for him to leave for the meeting. As soon as he was gone, Bim climbed from the bed and approached Google. Powering him up, as soon as his systems came online Bim said, “Okay Google, deactivate secondary objective targeted at me.”

When Google didn’t attack him, just watched him with glowing eyes, Bim sighed. That was a lucky call.

“Okay Google. They’re not going to be powering you up for a while. So, I want the passwords to everything in this building. All the access you have, I want it transferred to me. And when I’ve got what I need, I’ll make sure they power you back up.” Bim ordered. He handed Google his phone, and Google reached beneath his shirt to pull a connecting cable from his chest. Plugging himself into Bim’s phone, his eyes dimmed and a sign popped up that files were transferring.

It took longer than expected, but Bim had enough time to power Google back down and climb back into bed, phone now armed with all the security access that Google had, plus any other access too.

All according to plan.


Send a prompt theme and an ego/egos/ship

Send a dark sentence starter and an ego/egos/ship

Decrease, that’s Dr. R. alright…
— 

-a nurse at a mental institution I was in

Dr. R. knew what it was like to have to live most of your life on medication.  He didn’t feel quite like himself on his ADD meds. And he badly needed them in order to work at his job. Even with the meds his secretary had to work harder than most secretaries to accommodate him. Off his meds he literally could not complete a full sentence because his mind and interest raced from one topic to another so fast his mouth couldn’t keep up.  So he took “medication holidays” most weekend where he wouldn’t have to have many responsibilities that required concentration.  And his ADD was more severe than that of most people I met, so it wasn’t just a case of “I could function without my Ritalin, I just choose to take it or not on a whim.”  He could not function without it, he needed constant assistance from others without it.  And yet he still chose not to take it some days, because he found that he felt like too much of a different person on the meds, a person he couldn’t fully recognize or identify with.

As a result, he preferred to give his patients as little medication as he could get away with.  As in, the bare minimum to help the person function, and if it was not helping the function and he knew it, he would taper them off it altogether.

The nurses and psychiatric technicians who hung out behind the nurses station and gossiped constantly (but who suddenly were “busy charting” if a patient needed help)… I spent a lot of time in isolation rooms that had a door opening into the nurse’s stations.  And the nurses and psych techs loved to use neuroleptics (a.k.a. antipsychotics, major tranquilizers) and minor tranquilizers (a.k.a. sedatives, hypnotics, etc. stuff like Ativan/lorazepam) in order to incapacitate patients and make us easier to manage.  So one day, when I was tied down an isolation room just behind the nurse’s station, I heard them talking about Dr. R.’s decision to decrease one of my medications.  

Dr. R. had noticed, and written in his admission and discharge summaries, it went something like… “We’ve found that the amount of  medication required to control Amanda’s destructive behavior is uncomfortably close to, and sometimes exceeds, the amount of medication that renders her completely incapacitated.”  Well, yeah.  Neuroleptics work to control behavior.  And they are now and have been for at least ten years, been recommended for autistic people’s aggressive behavior towards ourselves or other people.  Eventually getting to the point where some doctors only know they’re prescribed “for autism” and prescribe them to all their autistic patients, which is horribly irresponsible.  Anyway, neuroleptics work to control autistic people’s behavior – and other people’s behavior.  They’re rampant in the developmental disability world for auties, people with intellectual disabilities, people with cerebral palsy, people with severe multiple handicaps, etc.  

And they work to control our behavior by disrupting the links between thinking and acting.  A person on neuroleptics may look tranquil, hence the word ‘tranquilizer’.  But on the inside, we may feel lost, confused, as if our mind has been scattered to the winds and we can’t find all the pieces and put them back together again, agitated, restless, furious, terrified, all these things at once.  But it won’t show on our face or body unless we get the side-effect of akathisia.  But so few people know about akathisia (severe restlessness that can escalate to violence) that they’ll take the akathisia as a reason to give more of the drugs that are causing it in the first place.  

Akathisia can become permanent, too – it’s a myth that tardive dyskinesia is the only permanent side-effect of neuroleptics.  (“Tardive” basically means symptoms that appear slowly rather than all at once.  The tardive movement and cognitive syndromes that can occur in neuroleptics are often permanent, even if you remove the drug.  There’s also acute versions of the same conditions, that do go away when you remove the drug.  Acute akathisia vs. tardive akathisia, for instance.)  The tardive syndromes I’m most aware of include:

  • Tardive dyskinesia, which can range from a slight involuntary movement at the edges of the tongue, to full-body contortions that are so severe they can inhibit breathing and kill people.
  • Tardive akathisia. That same psychological and motor restlessness, only it doesn’t go away once you stop the drug.
  • Tardive dystonia.  Any form of dystonia (a movement disorder, I’m too tired to Google it and give you information) that remains permanently after the drug has been discontinued.
  • Tardrive dementia.  Cognitive impairment that does not go away after the drug has been discontinued.

When I say “does not go away”, I don’t just mean the first year of being off of these drugs.  I mean that it doesn’t go away pretty much ever.  It may improve to an extent going off the drugs, but then plateau and stay at the same level.  It may actually get worse going off the drugs, because some of the drugs have effects that mask the full extent of the tardive dyskinesia or other tardive syndrome.

And did I mention that neuroleptics are generally a bad idea for autistic people with catatonia?  Yeah.  Not that they knew that when they were busy loading me full of thee drugs.  Because there were only two papers out on autistic catatonia at the time, and it didn’t even have the name autistic catatonia yet.  The first article that wasn’t a case study, came out about a year after I stopped neuroleptics.  But it explained why (I didn’t notice this, but my whole family did, so it must be real) the moment I went on neuroleptics – not even long-term, just my first dose of Thorazine  and Haldol for behavior control in a (different from the above) mental institution.  The moment I took them apparently my motor skills took a nosedive they’ve never recovered from.  It was like they accelerated the progression of the autistic catatonia.

I know someone else with autistic catatonia.  They were on Mellaril throughout a lot of their childhood.  It was only after someone decided to take them off of it, that they learned to use speech for communication.  They were twelve years old at the time.  In my case, I began showing obvious symptoms of autistic catatonia (not “catatonic traits that exist in all autistic people”, but actual deterioration of my motor and speech abilities) at the age of 11 or 12.  I was first given neuroleptics at the age of fourteen.  Which made me lose skills much faster.  When I went off of them at age nineteen, I had a period where everything got much, much worse, and then a gradual period of things getting better, and then I went back to my previous pattern of one step forward and three steps back, when it came to losing motor planning skills.

Anyway, I just remembered the scorn heaped on Dr. R. by the nurses, because he made it very difficult for them to use chemical restraints for their own convenience.  Shortly after this happened, they resorted to deliberately escalating situations – such as grabbing me and hauling me to the isolation room for no reason at all, with no warning at all – and if I struggled, at all, then I was a danger to others and it was okay for them to tie me down and drug me.  Dr. R. was not happy about this, so he assigned me and another patient who was getting treated similarly, a one-to-one aide from Visiting Nurses, who could take notice of anything the institution staff were doing to control me.  One day one of those aides saved my life, but that’s a long and traumatic story I have no interest in rehashing at the moment.

Suffice to say, for Dr. R.'s patients, “Decrease , that’s Dr. R…” was a good thing.  He didn’t always succeed, and he had all the dangerous biases that decades working as a psychiatrist would give a person.  But he tried.  He tried to give the smallest amount of a medication he could, that would still work, and he’d work with you on “drug holidays” if that’s what you and he felt you needed.  So despite his shortcomings – ones he shared with most in his profession, unfortunately – he was still the best psychiatrist I ever ran into.  It wasn’t just the ADD either – he grew up with a speech impediment and social problems, and he had attempted suicide at least once as a teen.  When he heard about the autistic community’s use of the word “cousins” (people who are not autistic but share many autistic traits, especially perceptual or social traits), he said he was a cousin.

And he’s the one who helped me get off my psych drugs in the end – all of them.  It was harrowing, even tapering slowly.  But we both acknowledged it had become a “the old lady who swallowed the fly” situation – most of the drugs were to treat side-effects of other drugs.  In psychiatry there’s an unfortunate tendency to look at side-effects as “this always existed and the drug just unmasked it”.  Like… my neurologist gave me a migraine drug once, Topamax, that changed my personality in a very severe way.  And when my friends told him what was going on, he just said “Discontinue it, immediately.”  Within psychiatry, those personality changes would’ve been said to be an underlying psychiatric condition that the Topamax unmasked, and I’d be given drugs to “treat” that condition, which would then “unmask” more conditions I didn’t really have, and so on.  So he helped me get off of everything.  He believed in me even when people were saying the withdrawal symptoms were proof I belonged on the drugs after all.  He stuck with me the entire year it took for me to get back to what was now normal to me.  He continued to make some major mistakes, but now that I was a legal adult and off of my meds enough to think clearly, I was able to get away from those mistakes in a way I hadn’t been able to as a child.

I never became the next Temple Grandin, which is what he wanted me to be.  But I think if he’s still around (he was old and had a heart condition, so he may well be dead), he’d be proud of what I’ve accomplished in self-advocacy and research alike.  And he’d be glad that my physical problems were finally being diagnosed for what they were – he’d early on had to help me fend off doctors who believed my physical problems were psychiatric in nature just because I had a developmental disability and a long psych history filled with diagnoses and misdiagnoses.  I hope he got a chance to watch at least some of that unfold.  I lost touch with him after he retired.

Anyway… I’m still proud of him for decreasing my meds and helping me get off of them, and believing in my ability to get off of them, even in the face of overwhelming pressure to do the opposite and have me so sedated (actually, at that point, twice the toxic dose of a neuroleptic, plus another neuroleptic on top of it) that I was falling asleep everywhere and having atonic or myoclonic seizures every few minutes when I was awake.

I’ve always been ambivalent about him – he seemed like a character in a book who is good but has a tragic flaw – but in this area, I am absolutely happy with the majority of decisions he made.  The majority, mind you.  But that’s more than I can say for any other psychiatrist I’ve ever had.  I really lucked out, because he was rarely on duty, and the night I came in I was assigned to him because he was on duty that night.  He instantly figured out that I was autistic (even though I was there for suicidal behavior), he saw me as something akin to an “idiot savant” (his words, not mine), and he developed a strong bond with both me and my family that carried us through some of the worst bullshit we encountered in the system.  Which was good because, as my mother pointed out, my parents were never educated in how to deal with an autistic teen with a seemingly sudden explosion  of neurologic and psychiatric problems.  And he decreased my meds when possible.

anonymous asked:

So you’re probs not gonna see this but I need to thank you for logging Terry’s receipts because I’m tired of pretendians, plus, according to her books, her main character (“sky” I think, lol that’s cringey) unironically goes on a vision quest to find his spirit animal when A - she claimed she was Cree and B - Cree (and Lenape) don’t have spirit animals. I think there were a couple other cheesy tropes with her other books too but I’m too tired to google right now, you’re doing great

Very interesting. Seems she didn’t even research the culture she was meant to be from.

What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?

I present the first half of NicoMaki the Hallmark movie, clocking in at 11.5K. All ye traditional pairings gather around the Christmas tree and Eli returns to her villainous Presidential mode. Enjoy! Ah, almost forgot the playlist.

 Ao3

FF

YOU’D BETTER WATCH OUT

Doctor Maki Nishikino had bought her house in Cherry Blossom Heights in the summer. It was a nice little development, full of professional couples and a few singles like herself. People pretty much kept to themselves, the atmosphere was generally calm and the Cherry Blossom Heights Neighborhood Association kept a close eye on everyone to make sure that nothing really ever got untidy. Maki’s neighbor, Eli Ayase, was a lawyer and the president of the Neighborhood Association. She and her wife, Nozomi, had a little girl, Michaela, 4 years old, who was very quiet and reserved and obviously spoiled. Maki felt comfortable there.

The house next to hers had been empty since Maki moved in, the ‘For Sale’ sign discreet. But today, there was a battered station wagon in the driveway, full of boxes. The car had to be at least 10 years old and was definitely showing hard use. Maki wondered if someone had bought the house and if that was actually their car because surely anyone who drove a car like that couldn’t afford a house even Maki had thought pricy.

A teenager came out of the house, pulled a couple of boxes out of the car and caught sight of Maki as they turned toward the house. The boxes got dropped back into the car. Instead the teen, a small, impish looking girl with black hair and twinkling red eyes waved at Maki while approaching.

“Hi! I’m Nico. Are you the neighbor?”

The teen was dressed in jeans, a red turtleneck and a flannel shirt in holiday colors.

Maki nodded, trying not to clutch her purse too tightly, “Yes. I’m Dr. Nishikino. Are your parents moving in?”

The girl cocked her head at her, eyes very serious, eyebrows lowered. When Maki continued to only look politely quizzical, Nico doubled over, slapped the side of her legs and started laughing.

“Oh, you’re going to be fun.”

Maki took a step backwards and decided to clutch her purse as hard as she liked, politeness be damned.

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