jaimemieux | Reading

jackabbot posting in

He’d always had great vision, but lately it’d been harder and harder to read the tiny print on the charting software they used at DGH and he’d been squinting more and more, which had meant he’d ended more than one shift with a headache. His primary charge nurse Nancy had started looking over her own readers at him with a very particular “doctors are so stupid” look. Lena had given him the same look when he’d been dense. Maybe they taught that look in Charge Nurse School, because he knew there was one. Maybe not officially, but there was one.

Robby had started looking concerned about the persistent headaches too, so Jack gave up and made an appointment with an optometrist for after his post-shift nap one Monday. Dr. Adam had reminded him that age came to them all and then examined him, which consisted of saying that 1 or 2 was better or worse or maybe the same for what seemed like forever. In the end, the diagnosis was that he needed reading glasses. No need to order a prescription pair yet, though, since every pharmacy would have a display of basic readers. Jack thanked the good doctor for his expertise and went to buy some glasses.

There were a lot of what he’d consider more feminine options, which didn’t surprise him at all. He’d resisted getting glasses for probably too long and he was sure it wasn’t an uncommon masculine trait. He tried on wire-framed ones, but those looked too much like he should be wearing a turtleneck and talking about computers. Then he tried on some black acrylic ones with kind of a Buddy Holly vibe, but those were too close to the Birth Control Glasses he hadn’t needed in Basic. Honestly, how did anyone ever decide on this? Fuck it, maybe he’d just close his eyes and point.

The pair he ended up with when he did that wasn’t too bad and he bought it, then went to the coffee shop next door to drink coffee and read the paper, mostly as a test. If they didn’t work, he could go back to the pharmacy and get a different pair.

[[Jack has brand new reading glasses. Find him at the drugstore deciding which pair to get or at the coffee shop getting used to reading with them. Timed to this afternoon, post title from a Mellencamp lyric]]

whenwego posting in

thecityneversleeps

Jade Herrera is rich as shit again.

He’s not a billionaire, he’s not even a millionaire, though he could be again, depending on how well the apps do. But he’s rich enough that he’s already moved out of the shitty Darrow apartment and bought himself a gorgeous fucking penthouse near the park, he’s furnished it, and he’s considered a new wardrobe, but honestly, he’s gotten pretty comfortable with the t-shirt or button down and cardigan combination he’s been rocking since… well, since Tian-Chen gave him his first. The car is flashy, some Darrow model electric in black, with leather interior, and he likes driving it way too fucking fast.

All of this has been done without really telling anyone. The car is a pretty clear indication, but as for the rest of it, he’s just done it.

It’s really nice to be rich. For awhile he’d thought maybe he didn’t miss it that much, he’d been fine in his creepy Bramford apartment, getting places on his stolen bicycle or using ride shares. All he had really wanted was to use his ridiculously big brain to get himself out of Darrow and back… somewhere. He’d never really settled on where he wanted to go. Everything had gotten pretty fucked up, after all, no matter where he went.

But he’s been here for over a year now and so far, nothing. Not the slightest inkling of how he might get out. Over a year and he still can’t figure it out, no matter how many leads he’s followed, how many dark corners of Darrow he’s dug into or how many sleepless nights he’s spent poring over his notes. So instead, he’s built and sold a few apps and now he’s rich again.

Rich enough that he can buy whatever the hell he wants without a thought and now he’s standing in front of a music store, looking through the window, and trying to decide if he’s going to go in. He should. He needs an outlet, a proper one, something other than sex and weed and alcohol, and he hasn’t laid hands on a violin in over a year. Not since Victor’s.

He’s not sure why he feels weird about it.

“It’s just a violin,” he says to himself, but loud enough to be heard. “I want a violin.”

allthelifethereis posting in

thecityneversleeps

He's lost track of how many beers he's drunk, and how many cigarettes he's smoked. The porch steps are littered with empty bottles and butts crushed out under the heel of his boot as he'd lit the next one. Behind him, inside the house, renovations are half done -- the kitchen, an ensuite bathroom for the bedroom that had been Hilde's, a little office decked out with everything she'd wanted to make it a place she would want to write.

There doesn't really seem any point in finishing any of it, now.

Bill bends his head, cupping his hand to light a fresh cigarette. He's fucking freezing, sitting on the steps, huddled in his coat, but he doesn't want to go inside the house. There's a part of him that's tempted to put a match to it, just raze it to the ground. He's lost too much. He's lost Beverly and Hilde and before that there was Neil, which is different, but still a loss, and then there'd been Eddie, even though he's right here, and back and back until it's just Georgie and the rain.

He's done. He's done dealing with it.
As it turns out, the problem with being done is that he's got no fucking idea what he's supposed to do instead, so he sits there, smoking and staring into space, and then he lifts a beer to his mouth, and he drinks.

Because fuck it.
He's done.

ooc: Bill is...not doing well. He could do with some sense knocked into him, honestly. ST/LT welcome.

mark posting in

dw_maintenance

Hi all!

I'm doing some minor operational work tonight. It should be transparent, but there's always a chance that something goes wrong. The main thing I'm touching is testing a replacement for Apache2 (our web server software) in one area of the site.

Thank you!

jackabbot posting in

thecityneversleeps

29 December 2025:

For his fiftieth birthday, Jack Abbot gets ... an argument with Robby. And then some presents, after they clear the air.

[ HERE | complete | none ]

04 January 2026:

Jack has a nightmare. Robby is an excellent warm blanket.

[ HERE | complete | discussions of past loss and trauma ]

08 January 2026:

Neil and Jack meet for coffee and an accidental discussion of the history between Jack and Robby.

[ HERE | complete | none ]

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Revolution, but Civilization

Reading

You better put on your glasses so you can see

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Minor operations; testing new serving path

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