#i can't wait to get my new bed and be even cozier at night

[wyn-n-tonic]

So... I haven't been feeling super great and it could just be because my period is three weeks late and all my hormones are in a pile up causing me to be insane or it could be the 27 years worth of major depressive disorder just chilling in my brain or it could be the EDS and the possible POTS, you know? It could be all of those! It could be none of those! But I will say... I have seen a significant decrease in my stress levels and I would like to talk about the things I'm doing for self care that are keeping me from losing my fucking mind.

Read more because this shit is just me rambling about my favorite self care things. Like I've really finally found a good combo for me and it makes me so happy that it doesn't feel like a chore. It's just nice!!! Also, this is not medical advice, this is just your friendly neighborhood mentally ill girly who deals with chronic illness sharing the things that make me happy.

FIRST OF ALL!!!! WASH YOUR FACE!!!! THEN TAKE YOUR FUCKING MEDS!!!!! I take my meds every single day at 8:10am because it's good to take your meds at the same time every single day *but* I've also discovered that's the best time to take my adderall so that it's really kicking in by 9 after I've done all my emails and things and need to focus on, like, actually doing my job. I've also been taking women's multivitamins and magnesium glycinate supplements. I feel like they've both made me less of a bitch because it's helped with the pain.

I have been eating breakfast! Not just iced coffee and prayers either, I've been eating a real ass breakfast. Everyday I make myself a little breakfast sandwich with an English muffin, egg, sausage and cheese of choice (I like colby jack, do whatever tf you want). This equals out to about 28g of protein and I'm supposed to have at least 30g first thing in the morning so it's pushed to 31g (maybe more) with the oat milk latte I make with my cute little espresso maker and milk frother. I have also limited my caffeine intake to one silly little coffee a day (but I'll have the occasional sips of coke zero when I feel a migraine trying to move in).

I've been working out recently. Even if I don't go to the gym, I try to get up and go for little walks. Which is nice. After I move, I want an under the desk treadmill.

I have a really bad habit of biting/picking my nails, especially when my anxiety is high or I feel the need to fidget but, for about the last few months, whenever I get the urge to bite or pick, I use cuticle oil instead and have been rubbing that into my nails/cuticles and it tastes god awful so of course I do not bite.

After work, I take a shower and I've started using the Saltair body wash in Santal Bloom because it smells very good TO ME. They have a bunch of different scents. But please remember that body wash is only a scent so please wash yourself with actual soap (and use a washcloth too oh my god, why is this a debate??? WASH IS LITERALLY IN THE NAME). Also, wash behind your ears EVERY SINGLE TIME.

ALSO night showers > morning showers. Argue with a wall because why would I want to get in my cozy bed with a body that has been steeped in outside germs all day??? Dirty feet??? ON MY SHEETS?!?! No.

I have *never* liked lotion because it's all too greasy or it smells gross or it's BOTH. I just get the autistic ick. I don't like things that sit ON my skin. But I know I should use it and I know I need to so I keep buying different brands of lotion but then I never finish them because oh my god so so gross and greasy. Anyway, somebody recommended that I try eos brand lotion and I have been using the coconut waters scent and oh my god. I recommend this lotion but use whatever you want and buy whatever scent you want, it's just nice. This lotion pairs very well with the body wash I like and it just makes me feel cozy as I get ready for bed.

Also wash your face again!!!!

(For skincare, I double cleanse with an oil cleanser & then a salicylic acid cleanser in the AM and a hyaluronic acid cleanser in the PM)

And I've been dermaplaning lately. That shit slaps. Why wasn't I doing that before???

And people keep telling me to buy topical magnesium to help with chronic pain but I kept getting links for Amazon and the thing about Amazon is... I don't like to use them if I can help it but I especially do not want to buy, like, make up or food or skincare products or vitamins on there because the amount of unregulated third party sellers freaks me out and I'm not trying to pop a rat poison supplement instead of what i actually ordered. You know? Anyway, my friend told me to get this Being Frenshe soothing stick... besties..... I have been using this shit ALL DAY LONG It's going on my thighs, my neck, my shoulders, my fingers, my knees, my ankles, my shins and it's so good for the chronic pain. And it smells so good and layers very nicely with the lotion and the body wash.

Seriously, my skin is so soft and I haven't really felt the need to pop a pain pill in a bit, my sleep is improved, my ability to calm my heart rate down during the day has improved. Did I mention my skin is soft?

Also, I'm currently losing weight and still healing from my biopsy (yes, I know it's been three months!!!) and I feel like the body wash + lotion combo I'm basically living in daily (sometimes twice a day because the showers are just so relaxing and not a chore to me now) are soooo helpful for my stretchmarks and scars.

Also, I've been turning my computer off an hour before bed to read which has been lovely.

Also, I bought enough lip balm (also eos because it's shea and not beeswax) to keep in different places. So I have a bed lip balm, a desk lip balm and a purse lip balm with one floater just randomly around the house.

And the *ONLY* AI we support in this household is the kind in my fancy little toothbrush that guides me in how best to brush my teeth.

Anyway, I just love being in my bed cozy sleep shirt smelling like coconut and vanilla and watching monster movies while not being in pain and having a resting heart rate that is NOT in the 120s. It's so beautiful. especially because, for the longest time, I couldn't get my resting heart rate below 85 while SLEEPING.

#i can't wait to get my new bed and be even cozier at night #i'm also going to get a water flosser #i actually bought myself some nice earrings earlier this week too #and i'm thinking of buying myself some kayali perfume #y'all i'm liking this less stressed version of me #i do one thing that makes me feel like a human and then it dominoes because i want to do more things that make me feel like a human #suddenly i'm a human again forreal #it's so legit #anyway goodnight #wyn rants

[logicalbookthief]

Hm..83, involving Hunter and Dadrius?

83. Another sleepless night, huh?

Thank you @red-lion-of-voltron for reading my mind and sending a Dadrius prompt lol.

The bed is too soft. Hunter can’t sleep.

Of all the complaints to have about his new living arrangement, that sounds like the most lackluster. He should be thankful he was offered a bed in the first place, let alone one so comfortable it feels like he could sink into the sheets. Darius isn’t the type of man who skimps on the quality of his quilts or pillows. 

The bed is too soft, and his skin chafes under every stitch, unable to shake this restless itch. He shouldn’t be nestled in blankets that're far warmer, cozier than anything he had back at the castle. He should be working. Patrolling, training. Gathering intel for the new government, going on missions for Darius or whoever, anything but this—this foreboding sense of calm.

He knows it won't last. 

Maybe that is why he's on edge, why his body can't settle, even in the depths of night, when exhaustion's tugging at his eyelids, staring listlessly at the dim light of the crystal ball.

He’s waiting for orders that will never come. Expecting a threat that no longer exists.

It begs the question of why he's even staying at Darius's house. It doesn't really seem like he's needed? He would understand if he had something to do, some skill or task so he could be useful to his host. 

However, Darius prefers to have his abominations handle the cleaning and Hunter has barely any experience with cooking, which exempts him from most of the chores. And Darius flat-out refused to give him a job, despite the fact that he does have experience in that.

By his own admission, Darius has grown a little fond of him, but it’s still a stretch to think that is enough repayment for what he’s offering. Sure, he might’ve protected Hunter a few times, and acted a bit distraught on his behalf; all of that could be chalked up to his innate sense of decency. I’m glad you didn’t die is a far cry from I’m willing to tolerate you living in my house for free.

Particularly since Hunter doubts he’s the easiest tenant. Why, the amount he’s woken the house with nightmares alone—

“Another sleepless night, huh?”

Hunter swivels around to see Darius leaning on the back of the couch. His hair looks mussed, his clothes in an unusual state of disarray. He was clearly fast asleep not too long ago and Hunter gets a fresh stab of guilt.

“Sorry,” he says softly, ears flattening against his head. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll go—”

He reaches for the crystal ball screen. His hand pauses midair, started by a blanket unceremoniously dropped over his shoulders. A string of abomination fusses with the fringes, tucking it in around his arms, effectively stopping any movement.

“Relax,” Darius huffs. “You didn’t wake me. Even if you did, I’d be grateful it isn’t Eberwolf running amok at 3am for once. He gets a burst of energy and likes to spend it rolling around, knocking over furniture, scaling the curtains.”

Hunter blinks. “Like a cat?”

“A much larger, more annoying cat.” Darius smirks. “Dare I ask why you’re up this late?”

“Technically, it’s early,” Hunter replies. Just to be contrary.

Darius swats at him for that, which Hunter dodges, more out of instinct than fear. A cheeky smile tugs at his lips.  

The warm, mushy feelings dissipate when Darius prods, “Nightmare?”

He pitches his voice low, gentle. Hunter hunches his shoulders, reluctant to explain that—what? After all Darius had done to earn his trust, his brain refused to believe this was for, that he was safe?  “Not exactly,” he murmurs, shiftily.

“Mm,” Darius hums. “Well, that makes two of us.”

Hunter frowns, suspicious of that. It could be a pretense designed to get him to talk. Leading by example, uh huh. Classic interrogation technique.“Really?” he asks skeptically.

“Not a nightmare, per se. They don’t always have to be,” Darius remarks. “It was more like... A memory.”

Sympathy causes Hunter to wince, recalling too many of his own trips down memory lane. If it’s a lie, it’s a damn good one. “A bad one?” 

“Not exactly,” Darius echoes, smiling wanly. “I dreamt I was speaking with an old friend.”

He doesn’t need a to ask to know which old friend he’s referring to.

“Oh,” Hunter whispers, the exhalation punched out of his chest. He tips his chin, studying his hands in his lap. Suddenly, he wishes he was on his obnoxiously comfy sheets, with only the itch for company. 

Strange to think that Darius has memories of a Golden Guard that aren’t tainted by cracked masks tangled up in dead roots, or left to rot in a pit of bones.

And yet he lives with the very reminder that that Golden Guard is gone.

Silence reigns over the room, the only sound coming from the chatter of the crystal ball. Darius appears to be waiting for Hunter to pick up the thread of conversation, if he wants. Though he seems equally as content to sit here and watch mind-numbing television until they both succumb to sleep.

By the time Hunter summons the nerve to speak, he’s waited too long, the context nearly forgotten.

"I'm sorry."

Tearing his eyes away from the crystal ball, Darius glances quizzically at him. "For what?"

"For replacing him. Your mentor."

Darius jolts as if struck. Instantly the air in the room thickens, almost suffocating with its tension. "You don't have to apologize for that,” he says, quick yet strained, but he’s lying.

Why does Darius look so sad here?

"I know it made you upset,” he insists. “And angry."

Discomfort bleeds into his face. "I—“

"You don't have to pretend.” His voice comes out far more harshly than he intended. "Or always be this nice to me."

Darius looks at a loss for words. His expression twists into something indecipherable, so Hunter doesn’t bother. 

He looks away, his mouth pressed into a firm line. "I'm tired of pretending. I'd rather you be honest and hate me than pretend."

It isn't quite the truth. Because he wants Darius to think he's worthy of his time. Like a child still chasing after the approval of every adult in his life, all of whom ranged from disinterested, disdainful or openly hostile. All except for his uncle, who assured Hunter he could be good if he followed every order without question, who gave chance after chance for Hunter to prove his worth.

But it was all a lie. None of it made a difference, none of it spared Hunter in the end. No amount of loyalty or love could sway his uncle’s decision. His mind seemed to be set from the moment he brought his grimwalker to life.

Hatred is better than a lie. Bitterness is better than a lie. He's sick of the lying, the wondering, the worrying. Second-guessing every interaction, weighing the cost of happiness over the urgency of survival.

The weight pressing against the back of the couch disappears. Darius must be leaving.

Good, Hunter shuts his eyes, ignoring the ache in his chest that disagrees. The waiting is over. The ruse has dropped. Everything can go back to normal.

He tenses as the cushion he’s sitting on shifts, dipping at the additional weight. His eyes shoot open, yet he doesn’t speak, the lump in his throat constricting any speech.

"I never hated you, Hunter."

And he can't help the scoff he lets out at that. Darius grimaces, though he doesn’t defend himself.

"First of all, you didn't replace him. Belos did." Darius rubs the side of his neck, looking as close to sheepish as Hunter has ever seen. "I suppose... I’m the one who needed that reminder.” 

Hunter stares at the man as he sighs, not fully comprehending.

“I let my resentment over his decision influence my opinion of you. I didn't even try to get to know you first. And that was my mistake. I’m sorry, little prince."

The apology hits with more impact than he expected. It sounds like a such small thing — a thing he’s said a million times before, and it never meant much, not to Belos, at least — but he can’t remember when an adult has ever directed those words at him.

"You weren't wrong," Hunter replies solemnly. "I was always doing what he told me. Just blindly following orders I bet your mentor wasn’t that dumb,” he snorts.

“When I met your predecessor, he was already a man. And he’d done plenty of things in the name of the emperor that he grew to regret,” Darius imparts, nudging Hunter’s arm with his own. “Realizing that is the first step to becoming a proper rebel. The courage to fight comes after.”

"I didn't rebel because I was smart enough to realize,” Hunter snaps, cringing at how desperately he’d rationalized his uncle’s actions in the mindscape, even with all evidence to the contrary. “Or brave enough to do what's right. I was just—”

What a shame. Out of all the grimwalkers, you looked the most—

He stops, catches his breath, exhales it. “I was scared. I didn’t want to die.”

There. If the confession doesn’t show what a poor excuse for a replacement he is, what else would?

"Believe me when I say that not dying was pretty high on my priority list, too,” Darius says wryly. “And it became quite a motivator for the rebellion, too.” 

Knitting his brow, Hunter contorts his face into such bewilderment that Darius chuckles. He can’t tell if he’s teasing or serious.

"Self-interest is not a crime, little prince. Your uncle may not have taught you that," Darius goes on, totally sincere. He bumps his hand gently against Hunter’s head, the gesture so well-worn by now that he doesn’t even flinch. "But I can assure you it's the truth."

No more lies. That’s what Hunter wanted, right? Even if the truth confuses more than comforts, or it isn’t the dynamic he’s used to…

He sucks in a breath, slowly letting it go, just like he was taught. Does it until his limbs go lax, until the itch is soothed, no longer the consuming thing it was. His eyelids grow heavier, fluttering as he strains to focus on the crystal ball. 

His head lolls, and he blames it all on gravity, the way his head tips to the side, his cheek landing on Darius’s shoulder. He finds he’s too tired to remove himself. If he want his space, Darius will have to shove him off. 

Hunter may have mumbled that aloud, if the huff of laughter that tickles his hair is any indication.

The couch isn’t as soft as his bed. For tonight, it will do.

#the owl house #toh fic #hunter toh #darius deamonne #dadrius #prompt fic #once again way longer than I intended lol #but I’ve been wanting to a write a scene where they have a conversation about this so here we are