#Best Hip Replacement Equipment

[mobility2you]

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[the-sunflower-room]

scared half to death

🌪️tyler owens x fem!reader 

☆ genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

☆ wc: 2.7k

☆ summary: tyler owens is not easily angered, but when the love of his life runs into an incoming tornado without a second thought, his emotions get the better of him.

☆ warnings: a very upset tyler, yelling, language

note: so i watched twisters and it was actually everything to me! the brainrot is bad and i’ve been wanting to write for tyler ever since i saw it, so here it is! this is very much the idiots in love trope because it’s one of my favorites. enjoy! :)

“Where is she?”

Tyler isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this angry before. He considers himself a fairly easy going man, always quick to make light of a situation and put everyone in the room at ease with his charming, joking nature.

But this was different. This had his heart pounding, his ears ringing. His face is flushed red and he feels like he can hardly breathe.

All because of her.

He slams the door of his truck, approaching his crew in the gas station parking lot with a look on his face that’s so completely un-Tyler that it makes them all shift uneasily.

“Where’s…who?” Boone tries weakly, unsuccessful in his attempt to play dumb. Lily rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare.

Tyler clenches his jaw, for once not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

They all exchange glances, his uncharacteristic demeanor both surprising and concerning. This isn’t the calm, charismatic frontman of the Tornado Wranglers they’re used to.

“She’s in the RV, but I don’t think-” Dani begins, but he’s already beelining for the camper before they can finish. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he nearly bursts through the door, finding her sitting at the small table in the back with her head in her hands.

Her gaze snaps up at the sound of his entrance into the RV, and her face immediately drops when she sees him practically fuming. “Tyler-” she says urgently, instantly on her feet as he approaches as if she’s about to defend herself. But he isn’t having any of it.

“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking out there?” He seethes, suddenly towering over her with his jaw clenched and hands on his hips. She swallows thickly, nervous around this version of him. Terrified to have upset him, disappointed him.

“Tyler, I promise, I was just trying to do the right thing-” she starts again, her tone practically pleading, but he just scoffs. 

“The right thing?” He questions in disbelief, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “You call nearly getting yourself killed in the field ‘doing the right thing’?”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the reminder of what she’d done, at the venom in his voice that’s ordinarily so gentle when directed at her. Memories of what had transpired nearly 20 minutes ago flood her mind and she feels a lump forming in her throat.

“I couldn’t let our data get lost,” she whispers weakly, her gaze glued to the floor in shame. “Bullshit,” he mutters, jaw clenched as his breath picks up. His eyes search her face, grasping to understand why the hell she had risked her life the way she had.

“You don’t run into the path of an incoming EF3 to recover some stupid equipment for our disruption research,” he practically spits, his voice growing louder, more emotional.

“That equipment is completely replaceable. You sure as hell aren’t. So I want to know why on god’s green earth you thought it was a good idea to run headfirst into danger like that.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes welling up with unshed tears at the reminder of her brashness. She feels ashamed and almost embarrassed as Tyler practically berates her.

They were best friends, a pair that the rest of the team liked to call the “dynamic duo.” With a shared passion for tornadoes and a taste for danger, they had instantly clicked from the moment they met during a chase a few years ago, becoming inseparable. Which is why Tyler’s harsh reminder of her stupidity stung so painfully.

She wasn’t used to hearing him so upset, so emotional in the worst way. With her, his tone was always soft, teasing, sometimes so overtly flirty that it would leave her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed.

But this was different. Now his gaze was harsh, curses unnaturally tumbling from his lips as she struggled to explain herself. And she hated every moment of his scrutinizing stare.

“You’ve worked so hard on putting together the equipment for the disruption research. I didn’t want you to have to start from scratch…not after all the effort you went through,” she explains pathetically, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions begin to shine through.

Tyler shakes his head, stepping even closer into her space. “And you thought it was worth risking your life for?” He grits out, his furrowed brow and downturned lips looking so unnatural on his normally smiling face.

Another shuddering breath escapes her as she catches herself from revealing the true reason she’d been so careless, from baring her soul and telling him that she’d run into the path of an incoming tornado because she loved him more than anything. That the thought of his disappointed face, his devastation over months of work lost to an unpredictably large tornado, hurt her so much that she would have done anything to save that equipment.

Anything to make him happy, to be the hero that he was to her.

“I- I didn’t get hurt, I knew I had time to get at least some of it-” she stammers, but she can’t get the words out.

“You didn’t have time!” He practically yells, gripping her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. His eyes are wide, his gaze burning as he stares down at her.

“If Boone hadn’t been close by with his truck, you could’ve easily not made it. You could’ve died,” he chokes out, his grip on her tightening. His eyes are watering now, his anger fizzling out into something more desperate, more panicked.

Tyler still remembers the pure, unadulterated fear he’d felt as she slipped out of the safety of his truck before he could stop her, sprinting out into the open field where the winds and torrential rain were getting worse by the second.

He remembers the devastated scream of her name that had ripped itself from his chest, lost to the howling winds.

He sure as hell can’t forget the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness that overtook him when the rain became so intense that he could not longer see her, no longer assure himself that she hadn’t been sucked up into the raging funnel or hurt by the flying debris.

It was only when he got radio confirmation from Boone five minutes later, stating that she was safe in their truck with some of the equipment intact, that he even knew she was alive.

It had been the most hopeless, terrifying five minutes of his life.

“Don’t you understand what you mean to everyone? What you mean to me?” He rasps, his voice quieter now, more broken. “Some stupid equipment for an experiment isn’t worth your life, Y/N. Not in the least.”

His eyes are tender now as they rake over her face, scanning the scrapes and cuts littering her cheeks, the patch of dried blood clinging to her temple. His heart aches at the thought of her getting hurt, even if the injuries are small.

She notices that nearly all of his anger has left his body, replaced by the emotion that had truly been brewing beneath the surface: crippling fear at the possibility of losing her.

A silent tear runs down her face at his softer, more vulnerable words, her heart breaking as she realizes the effect her thoughtless actions have had on the man she loves. He’s quick to gently wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on her cheek as he gazes at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she chokes back a sob. In an instant, he’s enveloping her in his tight, comforting hold, cradling her head to his chest and pulling her so close to him that their bodies are practically molded together.

“Shhh…it’s alright, sweetheart,” he gently hushes, his hand stroking through her hair as she cries softly against him. He’s back to himself now, all anger and frustration long abandoned in favor of his naturally calm, caring demeanor. Through her tears, she feels herself flushing slightly at his term of endearment.

“I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya, you didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs into her ear, his arms tightening around her.

He internally berates himself for defaulting to anger when she had also probably been scared and upset. But thinking she had died in that tornado just for attempting to recover his equipment had struck something so deep within him that his brain had reacted irrationally.

He stews in his remorse for a moment longer before admitting a truth that might be a little too vulnerable, a little too revealing of his deep and unwavering love for her, but he has to get it off his chest.

“…You just scared me half to death, darlin’. I can’t lose you...I can’t. It would tear me apart worse than a damn tornado ever could.” His whispered words are so raw and tinged with devastation that her breath hitches against his chest.

Slowly, she peels herself away from his comforting embrace to get a good look at him, and what she finds makes her heart clench in her chest. 

His eyes are red and glassy, obvious signs that he’d been crying. His muscles are taught with anxiety, like every fiber in his body had been tense ever since she fled his truck. His hair is slightly tousled and she instantly knows he’d been running his hand through it the way he does when he’s stressed.

The thought that she could cause him this much worry, this much pain, sucks the breath from her lungs and makes her feel dizzy.

“I only tried to save the equipment because I knew how important the research was to you,” she whispers, her voice still shaky but full of sincerity.

“I know how much it means to you, finding a way to keep these tornadoes from causing so much damage to innocent lives. I just- I wanted to do something brave and selfless for you, the way you always have for me,” she admits softly, swallowing as she meets his gaze.

His lips part slightly at her admission, the reverence in her words staggering. Hearing that she cares for him, finds him brave and selfless, wants to return the way he makes her feel, fills his heart with a love so deep he feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Y/N, you’re-” he rasps, pausing to clear his throat when he hears how raw and weak his voice sounds.

“You’re so damn sweet. Your heart is so big. That’s what I love about you. But please, don’t be as stupid as me. I throw myself headfirst into danger so much because I don’t think first…my judgement gets clouded by the thought of helping someone and I get tunnel vision. Which has put me in one too many potentially life-ending scenarios,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her slightly as they rest on her shoulders.

“I can’t- I won’t let you be that careless. You mean too much to me.”

Her eyes widen at the tenderness in his voice, the affection and worry dripping from every word. It feels like their conversation is breaching on something deeper, something much more vulnerable and terrifying.

Her mind is hung up on his soft that’s what I love about you. Even hearing the word love directed at her from the mouth of Tyler Owens makes her head spin and her face heat up, and she’s unsure if she’s even breathing anymore.

“Tyler…” she manages, her voice threatening to break with the overwhelming swirl of emotions running through her. She can’t help herself, knows that she’s finally going to put it out there, tell him how she feels no matter how scary it might be.

“I love-” his lips are on hers before she can even finish. The sensation of Tyler kissing her is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and she’s damn sure she never wants him to stop.

His large hand tenderly cups her cheek while the other snakes into her hair, tangling his fingers through the strands as he pulls her even closer. She gasps softly as his grip tightens, his lips moving against her own with an almost feral desperation.

The salt from her tears mixes with his sweet taste – something like honey and peppermint – and she melts further into him and his warmth. She can feel him pour every ounce of his turbulent, pent-up emotions into the kiss, and it leaves her completely breathless.

He’s waited for this moment for so long, and after thinking he’d lost her today, he’d be content to just kiss her like this for the rest of time. Reassuring himself that’s she’s still there, that she’s his. Showing her what she means to him.

Finally getting a grip on his emotions, Tyler pulls away for a moment, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misread the signs, misinterpreted what he’d felt brewing between them for so long.

But a wide, disbelieving grin spreads across her face as she fights to catch her breath, and he suddenly has no doubt that she’s been his all along.

“I’ve been waiting for that for- well, I don’t even know how long,” she laughs breathlessly, slightly woozy from his intoxicating taste.

He huffs a laugh in return, his eyes shining with an overwhelming adoration for the woman before him. “Yeah…I think Boone might owe Dexter and Lily some money,” he jokes softly, his thumb gently brushing her rain-soaked hair away from her face.

His eyes roam over her, taking in every inch of her muddy clothes, her scraped up hands, the shallow cut on her temple. Regret courses through him at the way he’d raised his voice at her, even if it had been out of fear of losing her.

“Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” He murmurs, his voice lower and more serious than before. She gently nods, her hand moving to rest on top of his own as it cups her face.

“I’m ok, promise. It’s just a little scrape from slipping in the mud,” she reassures him, sensing his lingering gaze on her slightly bloodied face. She can practically feel the apprehension in his stare, his constant worry for her well-being so endearing that she just wants to kiss him again and again.

“I promise, Ty. And I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t think before acting.” He nods slowly, letting the sincerity in her voice wash over her and comfort his racing mind. 

“You’d better not,” he teases softly, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re doing this thing, no more running headfirst into tornadoes, you hear? Can’t have my girl acting like an irrational daredevil like me. I’ve been told she’s smarter than that.”

She feels herself blushing as he calls her his girl, the title rolling off his tongue so naturally that it makes her heart skip a beat. Tyler watches as a hearty laugh escapes her and she leans into his touch, his own smile growing wider.

Suddenly nothing else has ever mattered beyond this moment of her in his arms, blushing and laughing like he’s the funniest damn man in the world.

“Ok, alright,” she giggles with feigned exasperation. “No more running into tornado paths, I swear. Wrangler’s honor. But you have to swear it too. You’re an adrenaline junkie and a trouble maker, even more than I am.”

He chuckles at her playful jab, his body feeling lighter than it has all day as he finally lets the tension within him fade. She’s safe, he tells himself over and over. She’s alive, she’s teasing him like she always does, and she’s got him smiling like a damn fool.

“Baby,” he mutters with that teasing glint in his eye, “you need to get my head checked if I ever run away from you and into a tornado. No man in his right mind would leave a gorgeous thing like you for some wind.”

Before she can reply to his ridiculous comment, he captures her lips once more with his own, relishing in the way she smiles against him as he pulls her closer.

This is all Tyler’s ever wanted - all he’s ever needed. Just her, safe and sound, loving him in all his flaws and worry for her.

If her running into that damn field led to this moment, this reality where she’s finally his, then so be it. He’s never been more grateful for a tornado.

[ntls-24722]

👏 Fellas,

We ALL like a Man in uniform. But is your Man safe in his uniform?

I present to you: Personal protective equipment for construction specialized for the Man of enlightened individuals: Music Man.

the PPE was specifically for construction because construction has the inherently sexiest PPE.

Music Men come in a lot of shapes and sizes and their needs and restrictions change with all of their forms. However, there are many overlaps:

Hard hats: All of the Music Men wear hats. Stupid dinky little clown hats, that is! Their hats couldn't protect their view from sunlight, let alone falling debris. I highly doubt the Music Men actually have any important components inside their heads specifically, but it stands to be protected.

Long sleeved, fitted shirts: All of the music men have exposed arm joints, exposed joints that shrapnel, debris, dirt, rocks - just about anything! - would love to get into and completely lock up your Music Man's limb. To prevent this, although usually OSHA can give leeway with short-sleeved shirts, long sleeved shirts are always recommended and I feel like in this case it is mandatory.

Hi-Vis Vest: 2 of the 395 Music Men are very large. However, ALL Music Men, due to their horror game heritage, are very sneaky, and to counter this, their dress code mandates a hi-vis vest, ESPECIALLY to the 393 "wind up" individuals who, due to their stature, are not very visible.

Safety Gloves: All music men have gloves, and while unlike fanon they all seem to be rubber or some kind of latex that could be protective, their designs were primarily decorative and to be safe, their gloves have padded undersides in order to reduce cuts.

Without further Ado, here are the music men's PPE particularities.

Homo Sapiens' societal courtesies have instructed us to look towards the face of a subject, and when you did, you may have noticed that Music Man has his cameras visible, like a whore.

Much like the situation with the gloves, the safetiness-level of likely decorative aspects of the Music Man's design is ambiguous, and to prevent ambiguity, Music Man and DJ Music Man have replaced their tinted-black eye-lenses with clear, polycarbonate lenses in order to withstand possible debris flying into them. Creepy, but doesn't it make that just make it easier to gaze into his eyes?

Music man, unfortunately, lacks child-bearing hips, and the reason why this comes up is that the lack of a hip makes it hard to put pants on. Pants that are all too needed for an individual whom most of his debris-philic joints are below the shoulders. To combat this, I have given him and the Wind-Up Music Men 8-legged overalls.

Finally, Safety Socks. To be frank with you, this isn't entirely for protection, Music Man's plunger feet would likely take the impact of a vehicle running over them just fine (though the socks would help), the socks are primarily to discourage climbing on his own.

Music Man (Homo Mousike) is a species of animatronic spider that evolved from a basal vent-climbing species, and while he does still have the adaptations for climbing, they have evolved towards more terrestrial adaptations that might endanger Music Man should he fall; Music Man is listed as a Heavy Animatronic and would be in great danger if he were to climb on his own, for if he fell, he would probably implode. If the situation does call for him to climb, Music Man can wear a harness and be hooked up to a fall arrest system just like the rest of us.

I don't care about the infinitely diverse levels of facial injury that the Wind-Up Music Men can have. All of you wear a full-cover helmet, now.

The Wind-Up Music Men were all chucked into a fire and it has absolutely ruined all of their faces: their carapaces or/and internal mechanisms have faced some level of either being melted, torn off, or both, which is why I am not letting any of you motherfuckers have a bare face.

Along with a hi-vis vest, I feel like it's in their best interest to extenuate their visibility with a removable, dinky little flag on their hard hats. It can be plastic or fabric, depending on what level of fire or electrical hazard their work entails. However due to trauma I think it's a good guess they won't be working with fire anytime soon.

The Wind-Up Music Men actually retain the privilege to be able to climb freely, without the need of a safety harness. They seem to be able to withstand falling/landing from incredibly high heights without taking much damage at all, like how you can chuck a squirrel from the empire state building and it'll probably live.

Finally, DJ Music Man. Yes, he still has to wear a vest even though he's the most visible thing on the site.

He has a face mask! DJ Music Man's default mouth position is with his teeth open, and due to the size of his mouth, it is very easy for shrapnel to get in and lodge itself right into the LED display inside his mouth. To prevent this from happening, I gave him a muzzle.

DJ Music Man is completely prohibited from climbing any sort of structure for any reason whatsoever. His habitat inside of the Pizzaplex was built to facilitate his arboreal lifestyle, but construction projects were not, especially not when the structure in question isn't even finished!

I don't know if there's a million tiny little hairs on the bottom of DJMM's gloves that facilitate his climbing, but I still replaced them with safety gloves to discourage this.

Finally, headphones. Every Music Man could change their internal microphone sensitivity, and even if they couldn't, prolonged loud noises are harmful and annoying only to the original Music Man. DJMM just wears them to have a sense of style.

[fenfyre]

The Beast In His Bones - Part IV

Part I

"Tell me more, Chil. Tell me about all the ways you want me to use you." The low rumble of his voice left the hairs along Chilchuck's neck prickling in the best way.

"I want you ... to use my mouth", he admitted after a short breath, still not able to look up again. "Want you to stuff it full ... and fuck it ... and barely let me breathe. No matter how much I squirm and whine..."

Laios reached up with one hand then, brushing curious fingertips against Chilchuck's lips who opened up willingly. Two fingers pushed into his mouth, salty sweet, pressing down against his tongue and sliding all the way to the back of Chilchuck's throat.

"Like this?", Laios asked as he pushed deeper, slowing down as Chilchuck gagged around the intrusion. But not stopping. Allowing him to get used to the pressure, to relax the back of his throat. "Hmm, yes. You love it when I force your throat open with my cock. Do you want to be all nice and spread out for me? With your head hanging off the edge of the bed so I can use your mouth?"

Chilchuck let out a heated whimper that was cut short when Laios pushed his fingers deeper, sliding them right down Chilchuck's throat. He gagged again, the sound of it wet and desperate.

"Do you want to get all light headed when I decide I need relief more than you need air?"

Chilchuck felt himself throb hard and heavy and he could swear he was already getting light headed even though it had barely been a few seconds. With how close they were pressed together Laios must have felt him twitch and he rolled his hips up into Chilchuck's again, pressing their hard lengths together.

The fingers remained where they were for a moment longer, almost long enough to make Chilchuck's heart flutter with an edge of panic, before he pulled them back out, slow and careful. Thick spit was clinging to them, drawing strands between the fingertips and Chilchuck's lips as he coughed, eyes watery and hands shaking.

"Fuck, Laios", he croaked and then watched, wide eyed and frozen, as Laios sucked the fingers between his own lips to gleefully clean Chilchuck's spit away. The sight made his stomach lurch and his cock twitch again. Laios only hummed, smacking his lips as he was finished.

"What else do you want, Chil?", he asked, as if any of this was normal. "Do you want to struggle? Try to escape and find out you can't?"

Their hips had taken up a steady rocking movement by now, grinding together in slow, even motions. For a moment Chilchuck was caught in the teasing grind and the image Laios' words painted for him. Imagined himself squirming and kicking, imagined Laios holding him down with ease. Then his eyes focused again, confused.

"Wait ... why are you so good at this? How do you know that?"

As if having been caught a cheeky smile snuck onto Laios' lips and the feverish heat dusted across his face and down his neck darkened.

"Ah ... well you're not the only one wondering what it would be like ... to be held down by someone ... something ... much larger and stronger than yourself..."

For a moment those words just hovered between them as Chilchuck blinked up at Laios. Then everything fell into place. Of course. He almost laughed, giddy relief flooding his body, replacing the cowering remains of doubt and shame. If there was anyone uniquely equipped to understand just what Chilchuck wanted out of this it had to be Laios. At the same time a shudder ran down his spine, his cock throbbing heavy where it rubbed up against Laios' through the fabric.

Reaching down with one hand he began unbuttoning Laios' breeches.

"Take them off right now."

But instead of following the demand the way Laios usually did when they fell into bed together, large hands came down to cover his own, stopping the motions.

"I ... I'd love to", Laios stammered, breathless and still deeply flushed when Chilchuck looked up at him in confusion. "But I ... also really want to talk about this. And I don't want you to say anything you'll regret, like last night. So maybe ... maybe we shouldn't..."

Chilchuck fell entirely still at those words, staring at Laios incredulously. For some reason his cock gave another heavy throb at being denied. He had never considered Laios being this hot when he was being responsible, of all things. Then he deflated with a huff that made Laios stammer again.

"I-I'm sorry! But I ... need you to tell me about this because you want to ... not because you can't think anymore."

Even though one part of Chilchuck still wanted to climb the man, now even more so than before, another, stronger part of him could admit that Laios was on to something. If they really wanted to try anything like this they needed to discuss it at least somewhat level-headed. As hard as pulling back now was.

But they were still pressed closely together and Chilchuck was happy to wrap his arms around Laios' neck and slip even closer. At least this had to still be allowed.

"You're right", he admitted as Laios arms found their way around him, one circling his waist, the other hand cupping his ass to tip him forward. "Gods, you are distracting sometimes..."

"Sorry", the word was warm against his lips and tasted of mint when they kissed, slow and deep and hot. The feverish heat crawling across Chilchuck's skin cooled down to a gentle simmer, the air between them still buzzing but with less urgency. After they parted from their indulgent kiss Chilchuck had made his peace with holding back. For now.

"Alright", he hummed, tilting back just enough so he could look at Laios. The slow, even grind of his hips did not stop. "What else do you want to know?"

"Anything you want to tell me. Like ... where would you want it to happen? Right here? On this bed?"

The images were immediate and vivid, Laios pushing his face down into these very sheets Chilchuck had fisted helplessly last night, pushing into him without care or mercy. But something about the fantasy was off.

"No...", he mumbled, still trying to find his reasoning. Then it occurred to him. "Too many people. I want to be loud. I want to scream..."

"Oh, yes..." The sigh was dreamy, Laios' gaze softening as he looked at Chilchuck, as if he were already imagining his helpless struggle. His shouts and screams and whimpers. "Somewhere secluded, then. Somewhere nobody can come and help you..."

~

Part V

[cocogrrrl]

amaryllis

you have hanahaki disease, and you're trying to find out who it is you like. it couldn't be your best friend, stan, right?

stan x bsf!reader (hs band + hanahaki au) cw: major character death, not necessarily an ed but mentions of struggles with eating, brief mentions of alcoholism wc: 4542

an: this is part of an sp au where different versions of the reader has hanahaki and is in love with the main three! read the other two parts here!

Hanahaki is a disease something that affects many daily. From a small seed in your lungs, you’ll experience petals and flowers coming out from your mouth. It could take days, weeks, months, or even years to develop. Many hypothesize that it happens because of a love not returned, a love waiting on a bench. 

Fortunately, it isn’t something that everyone will experience in their lifetime, although it is common. For those who catch the illness, you only have a few choices to pick from.

First, the sickness doesn’t last because the affection is returned. Many of those who survive this still need to receive medical attention for the healing process, depending on how severe the sickness had become. Many of these people who experience this are bound to live a happy life, though.

Second, you undergo a safe medical procedure that, while cures you, makes you devoid of any sense of love anymore. These operations usually do not pose many health risks, and the survival rate is high.

Lastly, you could just bear the pain, although you will suffocate to death.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You grew up in South Park. Subsequently enough, your best friend would be from there as well.

Although you weren’t his best friend, you considered Stan Marsh to be your best friend. You grew up stuck to him, always with a bright grin on your face whenever you saw him. You didn’t have many friends growing up, so there honestly wasn’t another contender for who could be your best friend. For you, it’s always been Stan and you against the world.

Back in middle school, the two of you had an undeniably embarrassing pop-punk emo phase. You two were the types to go to school wearing heavy black eyeliner and enjoy literary classics like Unholyverse, The Heart Rate of a Mouse, and the wonderful Petekey Manifesto.

You can recall Kyle and Wendy being somewhat embarrassed to hang out with Stan because of his edgy “you don’t get it” persona he had on. Stan remained close with them, yes, but the two didn’t want to associate themselves with the stupid shit you and Stan were doing. To be honest, you’re pretty sure you two enabled each other to go forward with your endeavors—to put it lightly.

Even so, that awkward and cringe middle school phase wasn’t all for nothing. You and Stan even formed a tiny band with Kenny. Stan was the vocalist and bassist, you were the lyricist and guitarist, and Kenny was the drummer. He recycled the name of his old band, and you guys were called the Crimson Dawn as well.

You didn’t get big or anything, no. You all were just a bunch of 9th graders who wanted to make noise and have fun. You did, however, have a lot of gigs around town. You guys found yourselves performing in bowling alleys, bars, parking lots, and even at a government-planned event (that last one’s because they wanted to be hip and show that they were in with the kids).

You guys received some extra cash here and there, but you all usually just spent it on replacing damaged equipment and for more personal uses. Overall, your band was doing good, and you were known in town as South Park’s little rockstars.

Now, you’re in your senior year of high school. How are you personally doing on the social ladder? Fine. Everyone knew you and thought you were cool, but no one had actually made the effort to get to know you, to be your friend. So, really, Stan and Kenny were your only close friends.

“You got anything new, YN?” Stan asked. Currently, you were in his garage with Kenny coming up with new songs.

Okay, band dynamics rundown first. Stan was the self-appointed leader that didn’t like leading but also secretly enjoyed it. You and Kenny didn’t mind that he was self-appointed because you two didn’t wanna deal with the logistics of contacting business owners for gigs and scheduling practices.

Kenny was the one who usually showed up late for practice and fucked around with your songs to have you and Stan mess up—especially at gigs. He’ll slow down his tempo, do half-times whenever he feels like it, and solo at the worst times possible.

You were kind of the mastermind behind the whole band. You composed the melodies and wrote the lyrics. Often, Stan and Kenny would just edit their parts to shape it to their liking. You didn’t mind that. You were just there kinda doing your own thing, but also having fun while doing so.

“Well, yeah, but it’s extremely bare-bones. I think I have a pretty solid riff for the song, though.” You sighed, playing around with your guitar and your effects. “I think it sounds a little different from our current sound. It also already has a bass part, but they kind of just clash together.”

“That’s fine. You think you can play it?”

“Sure.” You set your guitar settings to something more twangy, fitting it with the vibes your riff had.

“Here’s, uh, the guitar part.” You started to play. It sounded like it had the complexity of something Ray Toro’d write but with Mac DeMarco’s more upbeat songs. You continued with the bass, and it definitely was similar to Stan’s playing style, but it seemed like it would blend nicely with the guitar.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. It does sound a lot different.” He said after you finished.

“Is it bad?” You asked worriedly.

“No, no. Don’t worry,” He smiled. “It sounds fresh and new. I like it a lot.”

“I could put jazz-style drumming over it,” Kenny said excitedly. ”Hold on—I’m about to become Andrew Neiman.”

“Then you’re gonna call me Terrance Fletcher and act as if we’re in an abusive mentor-mentee relationship,” Stan replied dryly.

“Then I’m gonna get in a car crash!”

You essentially went autopilot after that, playing around with your guitar while Kenny and Stan chatted in the background. If you had to recall, you think they were talking about Wendy and Marjorine. You weren’t exactly sure.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It’s about midnight. You were hunched over your desk, currently up writing the song you presented earlier. 

Suddenly, your body caught up to you. You were thrown into a coughing fit. Your throat started to close up on you. You were suffocating.

You thought you were having an allergic attack, which was nothing new. As you were about to drink your antihistamine, you felt like you were about to vomit. You didn’t quite, though. Instead, you spat out Amaryllis petals with strings of saliva attached. You were disgusted but also horrified. What the hell was happening to you?

You wanted to tell your mom but couldn’t since you were scared that you would be rushed to a research center—having to deal with a bunch of needles in your spine. If this was a rare disease then scientists might take you away from your home, you know?

Maybe you’ll head to the doctor tomorrow or rather later. Luckily for you, it would be a Sunday, so you were free to do what you wanted.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“I’m afraid you have Hanahaki disease, Mx. L/N.” The doctor said.

“What?” You asked, confused. You had never heard of it before.

“It’s a condition where a seed in your lungs grows flowers.”

“How could I even have gotten that?” You were even more baffled and confused.

“Do you have a crush?”

Was the doctor literally dodging questions now? When you could have a serious life-threatening disease? “No?”

“Well, you do. The seed is triggered when you develop feelings for someone.”

“That sounds really stupid.” You rolled eyes.

“Sorry, kid,” he sighed, clearly tired. Maybe he was being serious. “You just happen to be the unlucky few who got it.

“What can I do then, doctor?”

“Three things: either your crush reciprocates their feelings back, get surgery, or die of suffocation.”

You were taken aback by the last part. “The dying option sounds a little grim, don’t you think? I doubt people would actually just give up like that. Like, why not take the surgery?”

“Well, you see,” he said, looking at you with pity. “The surgery removes all your hopes, dreams, and feelings. Everything you feel emotionally will be stripped away after the surgery.”

“That sounds stupid. I mean, you’ll literally turn into a lifeless person! A zombie, honestly.”

“That’s why many people just go with death.”

You sat there, feeling absolutely puzzled. Who is it you could have had a crush on?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It was now Monday. You were sitting with Stan and Kenny. They discussed sending your songs to some label or something. You couldn’t focus, the news of yesterday preoccupying itself in your mind.

Okay, you only really talked to about five people a day. Two of those people were your parents, the other is your dog, and the last two is Stan and Kenny.

So you only had two contenders currently, and you were pretty much sure you didn’t like either of them. They both had girlfriends, first of all. Kenny wasn’t the type of person you’d be into. Stan was your childhood best friend, so if you liked him you would’ve already gotten this disease years ago.

So who was your mystery crush?

“YNNN? Hello?” Stan waved his hand right in front of you. You shook your head, snapping out of your thoughts. “Earth to YN.”

“What is it?” You asked with a slightly annoyed tone.

“How’s the song going? Once it’s finished, Kenny and I were thinking we’d send it to this producer that my friend knows. He said that they were looking for more bands currently.”

“Oh, well,” you trailed off. You didn’t get to work on the song at all. “There’s not much progress. Some stuff came up at home.” You casually lied, wanting to dodge what happened.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.”

“You know Kenny and I are here for you, right?” Kenny, however, was busy chatting with someone on his phone—probably Marj. Stan elbowed him on the side as Kenny looked back up at him, offended.

“Yeah, YN. Like, no matter big or small it is. You can tell us.” Kenny chimed in.

“Thanks, you guys.” You smiled. Maybe you could let them in with what was going on instead of brooding around like a jerk. “Actually, I think I may have—”

“Hi, Stan!” Wendy cooed, bending down to him as she gave him a peck on the cheek. He blushed, lightly brushing the area where his girlfriend had kissed him. “Hey, Kenny, YN.” You two greeted Wendy—Kenny with a wave and you with a nod. 

“Stannn,” she hummed as she took his hand to stand. “Kyle and I need you for our Chemistry project. You’ve barely contributed at all!” She lightly hit his arm, seemingly a little frustrated.

“Shit,” he sighed. “Sorry, babe. I’ll go help you guys out.” He looked nervously at you two, silently pleading to have you stay. He desperately looked like he didn’t want to do the project.

You decided it would be best for him to pull his weight right now than later, though. “It’s fine with us. Don’t sweat it, Wendy.” You gave her a polite smile. Kenny joined in with you as well. 

“Thanks, YN!” She beamed, pulling him away from your table.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It was after class. Stan was still busy finishing up his homework, currently being reprimanded by Wendy. So now you and Kenny were underneath the bleachers, passing each other a joint he brought.

“You were about to say something earlier during lunch,” Kenny stated, waiting for the stuff to kick in.

“Yeah?” You raised a brow. “You still wanna know?”

“Sure, if you’re comfortable with it.” He leaned back on the metal pole holding up the seats.

“Well, I think I have Hanahaki Disease and—”

“So you like Stan?” He immediately cut you off.

“No. He has a girlfriend of, like, eight years.”

“If that’s your only reasoning as to why you don’t like him, then that’s pretty stupid, YN. It’s like looking at a cool shirt then going, ‘Oh, I don’t like that shirt cause someone’s already wearing it.’”

“Well, if I do like Stan, why only have the disease now? We’ve been friends for literally forever. Don’t you think I’d have Hanahaki a long while ago already?”

“You’re really in touch with your feelings, YN,” he paused.

“Thanks. I try.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, putting his index against your lips. “You’re really in touch with your feelings,” he paused for dramatic effect. “But it’s hilarious how you can’t even accept that you like Stan.”

“It’s because I don’t.”

“Let’s say you do, though.”

“Which I don’t.”

“You should be a comedian. You look like a clown right now.” You simply dead-panned him. “Anyways, if you had a crush on Stan, what are you gonna do about it? He’s madly in love with his girlfriend, dude.”

“I haven’t thought about it yet,” you paused, seeming worried. “Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like him, dickwad.”

“I’m dead. Your clownery has killed me.” He said sarcastically. “It’s written in my will: if I die at the hands of YN, they have to either pay for my funeral expenses or confront the fact that they like Stan.”

“Can’t you drop it?”

“You know what I can drop?”

“How annoying you are?”

“A new hit single about how much you like Stan.”

“I hope you green out later.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He replied snidely, taking another hit from his blunt.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You were now back in your natural habitat—your room. You sat in the dark, coughing up flowers.

Even if he meant it lightheartedly, you were now thinking twice about what Kenny said earlier. I mean, you could only have just developed feelings for Stan right now. That was possible.

Kenny brought up another good point: if you did like Stan, what were you gonna do then? Stan was head over heels for his girlfriend, so you only had two choices to pick from; death or death.

Either choice sucked, to be honest. You’re an individual who believed in expression, wild ideas, and creativity. To have those stripped away from you would lose all meaning to who you were. On the other hand, you could actually die. Like, literally. That didn’t fare to the other choice much better, of course.

You sighed, pulled out your laptop and your unplugged guitar, and do the only thing you know how to do—write.

Writing gave you the ability to think for yourself, but anyone can do that, though. Writing forces you to think more intuitively and to communicate those ideas onto paper, helping you understand and realize parts of yourself better. Sometimes, you think you already have a full thought, but when you’re writing, more and more things just come out. For you, that was the joy of writing.

Right now, however, you really couldn’t get anything out of your mind. You had some really cool riffs in your head that you’d like to translate, sure, but you had no lyrics. That was annoying.

Anyways, what were you gonna do with your possible feelings for Stan?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It was the next day, and you found yourself with Stan at the edge of your skate park’s bowl. You spent more of the day with him, of course after classes. You guys were record-hunting, thrifting, and even attending a local art show. 

The whole thing was his idea. A few weeks before, he mentioned wanting to spend more time with you again. Unluckily for him, he had been caught up in a lot of things, and so he didn’t really get to spend time with you, Kyle, or even Wendy. So, now, he was making up for it.

“Dude, I submitted the homework on time.” Stan was currently in the middle of a rant about how Mr. Garrison wouldn’t accept his paper. “The deadline was on that day, 4 PM. I visited him in his office at 3:30. He wouldn’t take it!”

“Well, you know how he is,” you sighed, plopping your chin on your knees as your body was sat curled up. “He’s been like that ever since we were kids. Honestly, I still wonder how he’s still allowed to teach.”

“Right? Like, besides the numerous amount bullshit he’s put us through, he’s not even that good at teaching.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, not saying anything else.

The silence was always comfortable with Stan. You could sit there and do nothing but still feel satisfied with the time you spent with him. 

Now, though, slowly coming to terms with your feelings for Stan, everything felt different. It felt weird. You didn’t know how to act or feel around him, knowing you liked him. Yeah, you might really like him romantically, but did that mean you now had to act differently around him? Maybe not, and even if you trying to fight against it, it felt like your whole world has shifted.

It’s even more awkward since he has a girlfriend. You had no intention of being with Stan, you knew how much he liked Wendy, yet how fragile their relationship could be at times. However, since you have feelings for Stan, any time you spent with him felt like you were taking him away from her. You felt awful, but neither you nor Wendy was entitled to his time.

You heard Stan downing a bottle of whiskey by your side. He’s always had a tendency to drink. It used to be a lot heavier when he was around 15, which was scary since he was so young. It’s what happens though in messed up houses like his. “You want some?” His hand out holding the bottle for you.

Just because you were worried over Stan’s drinking didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to do so, either. You were kinda exhausted from the whole ‘possible being in love with Stan’ thing, anyway. You needed something to unwind. “Sure, thanks,” you replied, taking the bottle from him as you took a few gulps from it.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It’s been over a week now since your conversation with Kenny. You certainly weren’t showing signs of recovery soon, so that’s unfortunate. How did you get away with all the coughing? You dismissed it, stating that it was just an allergy—it was spring anyway. The only person who knew the truth was Kenny. There was a chance Stan could pick apart your lie, though, never seeing you have pollen-related allergies growing up. Luckily, it didn’t happen.

Asides from that, you were practically sure that you liked Stan. Your feelings were written all around the small details. You liked when he’d pull his beanie down whenever he’d get flustered, you liked how passionate he often sounded when he talked, you noticed how cute he walks, and you liked a lot of things about him. 

There was this one thing you read online about once. You think it was called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. Most people just call it the Frequency Illusion. It’s where, when you notice one thing, you start to notice that it’s pretty much everywhere. You believe that was exactly happening to you. Ever since it had been brought to light that you may have feelings for Stan, it’s like everything was a sign of it coming to fruition.

Have you told Stan yet, though? Soon, hopefully.

You had somewhat distanced yourself from him because seeing him would probably make a decision more difficult. You’d want to keep him in your life as much as you want, but you knew you couldn’t either way. Would giving everything up to have a completely different version of yourself be friends with him be worth it? A version of yourself that didn’t care about Stan, do note. Seems not, but neither is giving everything up already.

You were hanging out with Kenny behind the school. That’s usually where the goth kids spend their time, but they were busy drinking Irish coffee right now. It was after class on a Tuesday. He hadn’t bugged you about your feelings since then, but he would sometimes hint at it.

“Kenny,” you sighed. In response, he hummed. “I think I like Stan.”

“Shocker.” He replied sarcastically.

“What do you think I should do?” You dramatically wept as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you think is right.”

“I think I should tell Stan.”

“About what specifically?” He scrunched his brows in visible confusion.

“How I’m sick. Maybe even my feelings if we’re at it.”

“Do you know what you’re gonna do first? Like, surgery or what?”

“I’m not sure…” You balled your body up, tucking your head on your lap that was folded up. You two sat there in silence as your mind trailed off, Kenny patting your back as he scrolled through his phone.

You know both situations don’t lead to good endings, but you hated the idea of losing all of the creativity and heart you have. Call you negative, but if there was no hope for a positive resolution, then what would be the point of sticking around?

Yeah, maybe facing your own mortality would be the right decision. It was never your choice to have this illness, to begin with, however.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“Stan.” You called. Currently, you were sinking into the sheets of his bed as you took a deep breath.

“Hmm?” He hummed.

You sat up, looking at him worriedly. “You know how I said that my allergies were reappearing because of the spring season?”

“Yeah, I find it kinda odd,” he replied, sitting up as well and placing his back against the headboard. “You don’t have allergies, yeah?”

“I don’t,” you sighed. “I have Hanahaki.”

“Like the flower thing?” He stared at you in disbelief. You nodded. “That thing exists?”

You clicked your tongue. “Yeah, I’m one of the unfortunate few who got it.”

“What are you gonna do then?” He raised a brow.

“I think you already have an idea.” You dryly laughed.

He immediately knew what you said. You could tell he combed through your options, and, knowing you, knew already what you would pick. “What? Why?” His tone was still calm, but you could feel that he was starting to lose it.

“I mean, it’s either that or I become some hollow shell of a person. You know I’m never giving up my creative freedom for some guy.” You grabbed him by the shoulder, trying to reassure him that everything’ll be alright with just a smile. “I’m better than that.”

“But… you’re gonna die.”

“You think I haven’t thought that through yet?”

“What about our dreams of making it big as a band?”

“I can’t stop the disease, Stan. I’m sure you know that I would’ve tried to get a cure if there was one.” 

As the room fell silent, you felt Stan wrap himself around you. You felt your shirt getting soaked in warm tears. You held him in your arms as well, upset to see him upset.

You never really got to see this side of him growing up. Sure, he was melancholy-ridden ever since you’ve known him. At his core, he was a pessimist. He never really seemed to allow himself to be upset when it came to you, though. It’s like he never wanted to anchor himself onto you. With Kyle, he did it a whole lot. With you, nothing.

You sat there, wondering if you meant anything to him. It’s funny that you still had negative and doubting thoughts like this even when you were sure he loved you unconditionally.

That’s the thing though. Since you only really had Stan growing up, you never really understood how someone could love another person conditionally. You never learned what it’s like to be loved conditionally. You’re sure it hurt, but your lack of experience made you question everything—including the people you love most.

That’s not to negate the fact you loved Stan. Even if you knew you’d never be his in a romantic aspect, you wanted to continue enjoying your time with him. Right now, time was ticking, and you couldn’t just sulk around and contemplate your life. That’s just stupid.

Now seeing him like this, you weren’t going to tell him that you like him. At least not for now. He was most likely in a fragile state, so telling him that you liked him, that he was the reason for all this, would break him. Especially since he’s never seen you the way you saw him.

At the end of it, you found yourself crying as well. You weren’t sure when or how you started crying. It started long before you could process it. 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

After everything was said and done, you spent the last few weeks of your life in your room. You and your parents concluded dropping out of classes, seeing how you were going most likely going to pass away. Your family was devastated, to put it lightly, but at least they knew what was going to happen. At least they had time to prepare for your untimely demise.

Your condition worsened as time passed. You experienced a lot of weight loss because of how difficult it was to eat. Due to that, you also lost a lot of the muscles in your body. Not being an avid daywalker before all this didn’t seem to help you as well.

Your last few weeks weren’t all too gloomy, though. While you still could, you spent many of your last days jamming with Stan and Kenny. Actually, during one of those last few days, you got to record one of your songs in a studio. The producer Stan got in touch with really seemed to like your work.

When you were back home, it was back to writing songs. As I said, it was the only thing you knew how to do. It was your escape. You wrote about your last days, your feelings about Stan, and other things. They weren’t brooding, you didn’t want to sound edgy, but they were genuine.

It was April 25th. You weren’t aware that that day was going to be your last, but you suspected that it would be anyway.

On that day, you were fixing your songs up, giving them an assortment of lyrics and melodies for them to work with. You didn’t write that much at that point because you were just too physically exhausted and weak to do so.

It was around 9:38 PM when it happened. All it took to take you out were just more flowers to block out your airway. You were coughing a whole lot, that’s for sure. Much blood spilled out of your mouth. You didn’t fight any of it though.

Around 10:15 PM Stan received a call from your mom. He already had an idea what the call would be about, but he wasn’t ready to hear it. 

“Stan?” Your mother’s voice is cracking. He hummed in reply, already knowing what was going to come next. “YN just passed away.”

Even if he knew what was coming, he still felt his heart drop. He would never be able to prepare himself for one of his best friend’s death.

[geralt-of-baevia]

Begin Again: Chapter Three

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Summary: When Penny starts working at AFC Richmond as their new head photographer, she catches the eye of a certain mustached, happy-go-lucky, head coach of the team. But can their spark endure through the season’s pressures and the demons of their past?

Pairing: Ted Lasso x OFC (Penny Fletcher)

Word count: 4.5k (YOWZA!)

Warnings: Drinking, flirting, etc.

A/N: Alright, I know this chapter took a while but it's a BIG one. This chapter was so much fun to write and I think you're all going to like it 😍😍😍

Beta: Thank you to @midnightswithdearkatytspb for proofreading and the AMAZING banner! I love it.

Tiny Tag List: @tegan8314 @rosesheerio @eugene-emt-roe @floralsightings @imvibin69 @justsomefunshit (Let me know if you want to get added!)

The next morning I was terrified to go to work. I paced the apartment, looking at my phone every two minutes, counting down until I had to leave. 

“Penny, why are you so nervous?” Jo asked, giving me sarcastic smile. Sometimes I just really wanted to slap her. I narrowed my eyes at her, folding my arms across my chest and shifting my weight to one hip. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Jolene, maybe because my colleague I fancy saw me showering naked-”

“I mean, that’s usually how you shower-”

“-so not only do I have to face Ted over that, but I’m terribly nervous about what Jamie bought as replacements…”  I said, shifting my weight to my other hip. She playfully rolled her eyes at me. 

“Penny, Jamie is loaded. I have no doubt that he got you only the best quality things to replace your equipment,” she told me, “Also, it's nice to finally hear you say you fancy Mr. Lasso because I thought I was going to have to waterboard you or something to get it out of you.” 

I let out a big huff, finally going and deflating in the armchair as an act of defeat. 

“Joey, I just can’t face Ted-”

“Would you like me to drive you to work today? I’ve got the day off so I can take you, Even walk you in if that’ll help?” she offered. I gave her an over-exaggerated pouty face, sticking my bottom lip out. 

“I would wove that vewwy much,” I said in a mock baby voice. She laughed, shaking her head at me. 

“Go get the car warmed up, I’ll get ready really quickly,” she said, walking over to the hallway, “keys are on the hook.”

I squealed excitedly and shot up out of my seat. “Thank you, Joey!” 

My leg bounced the entire way to work, and every so often Jo would put a comforting hand on my knee to calm me. 

“Honestly Penny, I think you’re making a way bigger deal of this than you need to,” she told me as we drove onto Nelson Road. My heart started nervously pounding in my chest. 

“Okay, but what if he doesn’t bring it up? Do I need to? I just don’t want it to be a giant naked elephant in the room!” I exclaimed with a laugh. 

“I mean, you could make it fair-”

“Jo, I don’t want to see him naked-”

“HA, that’s a lie. I know your pervy little mind,” she said as she tapped her pointer finger to her temple, “you’ve already thought of that man naked, plenty. And now probably in the shower with you…” I felt my cheeks burn hot and rosy. She wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t something I wanted to think about as I went into work and had to see him. 

Jo pulled into the parking lot and parked. Once the car was off my body grew hot with anxious anticipation and I could feel my heart beating in my entire torso. We got out of the car and as I was getting my bag from the backseat, I heard my name being shouted. I looked to my left and saw Jamie approaching me, a large shopping bag in his hand. 

He gave me a giant smile once he saw I had his attention. “I got the goooooooods!” 

I giggled a little bit as he jogged over to us the rest of the distance. 

“Jamie, thank you so so much for doing that,” I told him once he was at the car. He scoffed. 

“Penny, it's the least I could do. How else are we supposed to get that wicked sliding shot?” he gave me a friendly wink and I pulled him into a hug. 

“Oi, so you’re the one who broke my little bird’s camera, huh?” I heard Jo ask. Jamie pulled back from our hug and turned to Jo. 

“Now Penny, why haven’t you introduced me to your gorgeous friend here?” he asked, looking Jo up and down. I looked over to her just in time to see her roll her eyes playfully. 

“Jamie, this is my best mate and roommate Jo, Jo this is-”

“Jamie Tartt doo doo doo doo doo doo, oh I know who he is,” she said with a smug smile, also looking him up and down. The sudden tension between them made me feel like I shouldn’t be there. 

“Well, now that this has been such a lovely and not at all awkward introduction, shall we go inside? I’m going to need to set up the camera before I do anything today,” I said with a huff. Jamie and Jo both nodded in agreeance, and we all went inside together. 

We walked with Jaime to the locker room, and the closer we got the harder my heart beat in my chest, and my stomach grew sour. But to our surprise, Ted wasn’t in the coach’s office; only Coach Beard and Roy were to be found. 

“Oi, where’s Coach?” Jaime asked Beard, and Beard shrugged in response. 

“I’m not sure. He just said something came up last night and he wasn’t going to be able to make it today,” he explained before turning to me, “I know we were supposed to get some coach shots today, but maybe we’ll wait until next week?” 

I nodded, my stomach easing a little knowing Ted wasn’t at work today. Jo nudged my side and leaned close to my ear and whispered, “I’m sure something came up alright…” I shot her a look, rolling my eyes at her. 

“Is everything okay, Fletcher?” Roy asked. He had gotten in the habit of calling me by my last name. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t question it. I looked up at him from Jo and shook my head.

“No my friend Jo here was just making an inappropriate comment,” I said, looking back at her and giving her a stern stare. She stifled a laugh before turning back to Roy. 

“And I’m Jolene by the way, so nice to meet you all,” she said, giving them both a small wave. Coach Beard’s eyes grew wide at the mention of her name and I giggled. 

“God, I wish Ted was here so that I could have experienced you two learning her name for the first time together,” I said, causing Roy to break his stony stare and crack a small smirk.

“We’re a fun pair, huh? Best mates who are both named after famous songs. What are the odds, right?” Jo piped in. 

“You’re really named after the song?” Beard asked. Jo nodded. 

“My parents went through a country phase when my mom was pregnant with me,” she said with a shrug, “they had just wished I was born a red head and not a blonde.” 

We all chatted for a few more minutes before Jo and I left the guys to start practice, heading out into the club to go to my uncle’s office. Once the door was shut behind us, I turned to Jo. 

“Okay, but what the actual fuck was that with Jamie?” I asked with a breathy laugh. She threw her head back with a laugh. 

“Oh god, nothing is going to happen with that boy. He thinks he can try, but I don’t think so,” she proclaimed proudly. I playfully rolled my eyes at her. Knowing her as long as I did, I knew when she was into someone, even if she played it cool. 

We made it to our destination, and I knocked on the door after we approached it. 

“Come in!” I heard Uncle Leslie say from the other side. Jo opened the door and my uncle’s face lit up when he saw us. 

“Hello, Penny! And hello, Jolene! It’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” he said excitedly. He closed his laptop and placed his elbows on the desk, resting his chin on his now intertwined fingers. “How can I help you ladies?” 

“Hello Mr. Higgins, it’s very nice to see you as well,” Jo said cheerfully. 

“Well, I don’t know if you heard, but Jamie broke all of my camera equipment yesterday,” I said with a sigh, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and gently setting the fragile bag in front of me. He gave me a forced, flat smile. 

“I did indeed. Jamie came to me after you left to ask what he should get,” he told us, “did he get the correct equipment? I only know so much about photography. But I did tell him the person at the camera store would know best.”

“I mean, honestly I haven’t even looked at it…”  

I pulled over the bag that Jamie brought me and opened it up, my eyes lit up at the site of what he got me. 

“Well? Is it okay?” Jo asked. I nodded as I pulled the box that had the camera body out of the bag, putting it in my lap. 

“Okay? This is like, top-of-the-line stuff,” I said, looking up with a huge smile. I was in disbelief. The camera I was holding in my lap cost more than I was willing to truly consider. 

After we looked over the new equipment together, I got myself set up in a corner of my uncle’s office and Jo left to go get her day started, not needing to stay any longer since Ted wasn’t here.

I spent the rest of the day setting up my camera, replying to emails, updating my computer, and catching up with my uncle. I hadn’t spent this much time with him since I was a teenager, so it was nice to reconnect with him. He was always my favorite uncle. 

“Do you have any fun plans for the weekend?” my Uncle Leslie asked me as the day was finishing up. I sighed, looking at my phone to see if I had any notifcations. 

“Well, I think Jo and I are going to go to the pub. She wants to celebrate my first week at my new job,” I said with a content smile. I was very much looking forward to having a couple of drinks and just shooting the shit with my best mate. 

“Oh that sounds like a good time. You deserve it! You’ve honestly blown all of us away just on your first week. I’m very proud of you,” he said, a sincere grin spreading across his face. 

I felt tears sting behind my eyes. Quickly I tried to blink them away, but it was no use. They spilled down over my cheeks and I hotly wiped them away. 

“Thank you, Uncle Leslie. That means a lot.”

When I got home, Jo was already at least a third of the way ready for going out. I set my stuff down next to the door and she came out into the living room, toothbrush still in her mouth. 

“You need to get ready,” she mumbled flatly around toothpaste. 

“But it’s barely 6 o’clock,” I half whined at her. She rolled her eyes at me before heading back into the bathroom. I followed her, leaning against the doorframe as she spit into the sink. 

“Well, it’s going to take you at least 30 minutes to get ready, and then we have to still get there which will probably take around the same amount of time. So we won’t even get to the pub until like 7. And we can stop at that fish shop you like before we go too,” she explained, “so in other words, get your arse ready. Please.” 

I jokingly rolled my eyes at her and headed to my room to get ready. I threw on something acceptable but still comfy, an outfit that wouldn’t turn too many heads but was still sexy. 

Once I was done getting ready, I went over to Jo’s room and hovered in the doorway again. 

“How does this look? Yeah?” I asked before spinning to show off my outfit. 

“You look fit,” she said with a cheeky grin before turning back to her mirror to finish her makeup, “if only Ted could see you…”

I scoffed at her. “Yeah, well, I’d like to forget about him for an evening and just relax, mmkay? So no mention of him from here on out.”

She turned to me again, drawing an X over her heart with her pointer finger. “I cross my heart and hope to die, I will not mention the mustached coach for the rest of the night.” 

I giggled. 

“You better not.”

After a train ride and a stop at the chip stand, we reached our destination. I was thankful for the little pub that Jo and I always went to. It was small and quaint, in the basement under some other business. The exposed brick walls and dim lighting made it feel homey and comfortable. We found it one night while searching for somewhere to get a drink after work when we lived in this neighborhood a few years back. One visit and we were won over, it becoming our 'usual' spot.

We ordered two pints and a shot of whisky each at the bar, and then went over and sat in a small corner booth by the fireplace. We took our shots and I quickly moved on to my beer. After downing about half of mine in one gulp, Jo shot me a disheartened look.

“Penny, you need to relax-”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” I asked with a sarcastic laugh as I gestured to my drink. 

“No no, we need a toast!” she exclaimed. She raised her glass up and I followed suit.

“To Samantha Penelope Fletcher! The bird who has overcame so much shit in her 29 years and finally got her dream job!” she said with exaggerated enthusiasm, clinking our glasses together. We each took a large swig of our beers, me finishing mine. 

As we set our drinks down on the table, I watched as Jo’s eyes flickered to just behind me, before returning her gaze to me. She raised her eyebrows, a mischievous expression growing on her face. 

“What?” I asked. Her face slanted into a sarcastic grimace, her eyes shifting away as she took another drink of her pint. 

“Jolene, what?” 

“Well, lets just say ‘he who shall not be named’ is sitting over there at the bar,” she said with a nod of her head. My whole body grew hot and my stomach soured. I wanted to turn around and look, but my body wouldn’t move. “And it looks like someone here needs another pint…”

I huffed, my lips trilling. “And you’re not going to go get it for me, are you?”

She shook her head no. 

“You’re going to make me, me, your bestest mate in the whole world go?”

This time she nodded her head. “Go my little nymph, go!” 

I narrowed my eyes at her before gritting out a, “fine,” to her through my teeth. A wicked grin played across her face. 

“Man, I might have to move to a closer booth so I can hear…” I rolled my eyes at her as I stood up, shimming my fitted black dress down to its proper position before grabbing my empty glass and heading towards the bar. 

I felt as though another person was in control of my body, telling my legs to keep moving in the direction of Ted. Once at the bar I stood behind him for a second, trying to figure out the best way to approach this. I decided that buying myself a drink and just 'noticing him' would have to do.

As I took a seat at the bar next to him, I raised my hand up to get the barman Albert’s attention, raising my empty glass once I had his attention. After ordering my drink I pretended to not notice Ted at first, but did a fake double take to realize it was him.

“Ted?" I asked, giving him another look over. He glanced up from his drink, apparently not having realized that anyone had sat down next to him. He gave me a look over, before realizing who it was, or at least I hoped so.

"Oh! Well hello there Penny Lane," he said a bit more cheerfully than his facial expression showed, “I almost didn’t recognize you…”

My face furrowed in confusion. “How so?”

"Well, I'd have to say you're much more dolled up than you are at the club," he said, hiding a grin in his glass before taking another drink. 

I felt myself blush, hoping that the dim lighting would hide that from him, but I doubted it would. Thankfully, Albert came over and handed over my drink, momentarily distracting me from my warm, rosy cheeks. I thanked him, holding out cash to give to him, but Ted stopped me.

"No, no. Put it on my tab," he said. I slowly retracted my hand back away, putting my money back in my bra. Albert gave me a knowing wink before nodding to Ted.

"Well, thank you. You didn't have to do that," I told him before taking a sip of my drink. He shrugged, giving me a small smirk and a sideways glance.

"It's the least I can do. After…you know," he said before trailing off and gulping down the last of his drink. He set it down on the bar, motioning for another. I couldn't read the emotion on his face. 

“Oh, Jesus, Ted, I mean, honestly-”

He cut me off. “I apologize for cutting you off because my grandma taught me you never interrupt a lady like this, but I’m currently the perfect mix of guilty, booze and well, stupidity, and I have to get this out before I burst like a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls,” he sighed before turning to me, our eyes meeting. 

“I need to say how sorry I am about yesterday. I can’t- I can’t stop thinking about how vulnerable and exposed you must have felt. I mean, gosh Penny. I don’t even know what to say. I’m just-I’m just so embarrassed. If I had known that you were in there-”

I put my hand on his forearm to calm him and stop him from rambling on. 

“Ted, first off, please breathe,” I said, giving his arm a soft squeeze. Not breaking eye contact with me, together we took a deep breath through our nostrils and then out, my eyes darting to his slightly parted lips. I nodded in approval, and he nodded back. “Better?”

“Yeah, yeah better,” he said with a sigh. I moved my hand from his arm and picked up my beer, taking another drink. 

“You know,” I said, wiping the corner of my mouth with the pad of my thumb, “I didn’t realize I had a triple threat see me naked…”

His eyebrow knit together and I giggled at his confusion. The booze was definitely settling in my bloodstream. 

“Yeah! Now tell me, how does one become whisky? Exactly how much whisky are you? Is it an even ratio to the guilt and stupidity?” I explained. A stupid grin suddenly appeared on his once forlorn expression at my dumb joke. 

“I’d say it’s probably a 40/30/30 thing,” he replied with a scrunch of his nose. 

“Is the 40% whisky, because if so we have a problem Coach Lasso,” I giggled. He took another sip of his drink, resting it in his hand. 

“Then maybe a 10/40/30,” he corrected. I paused, doing the mental math through my beer fog before laughing. 

“Ted! That’s only 90%,” I joked, pushing on his shoulder playfully. I watched my hand almost like it was a foreign object, it seeming to have done that all on its own. I brought it back to my beer, taking a drink. 

“How did you know this was whisky?” he asked, lifting the glass in his hand. 

I shrugged. “I know I might be drinking pints right now, but trust me, I know a good whisky when I smell one. May I?”

I put my beer down and held my hand out for his drink. His eyes lit up, both taken aback and impressed by my actions. He held his short glass out to me and as I took it, my fingers brushed his. My heart started pouding in my chest at the feel of his skin under my finger tips, and I had to remind my tipsy brain to focus on the drink and not it’s owner. 

I swished the glass around before bringing it up to my lips and taking a small sip. The amber colored liquid stung as it hit the back of my throat, causing my face to wince slightly. 

“Good god Ted, you’re drinking this whisky neat? Like, not even on the rocks?” I asked, making a face at the glass as I handed it back to him. He chuckled. 

“Well, what can I say? I’m a purist at heart when it comes to drinking,” he said proudly. 

“Or your tastebuds are just shot after only drinking something you could sterilize a wound with during WWI,” I said with a laugh. 

As I picked up my own drink to get the taste of the whisky out of my mouth, Ted took it out of my hand, bringing it up to his lips without saying a word. His eyes widened as he realized what I was drinking. His face soured as he swallowed, coughing a little. 

“So you’re-you’re telling me, you just now were talking about how mine tastes like rubbing alcohol, when you’re sitting here in front of me drinking a Guinness? That drink is more bitter than Scar when Simba was born and he knew he was never going to be king,” he said, giving my glass an amusing glare. 

“Um, yes. This tastes like hops and has hints of coffee and chocolate. It’s absolutely delicious,” I stated proudly, taking my beer back from him, “and didn’t your grandma teach you to not take a drink from a lady without asking when she taught you about cutting them off mid sentence?”

The expression on his face was nothing short of impressed. “You have happily surprised me, Penny.”

“How so?” I questioned, genuinely curious for his answer. As I took another drink waiting for him to reply, I felt my body grown warm, my vision getting a tinge fuzzy around the corners. The temperature of my body continued to rise between the alcohol and my nerves, even though those were currently masked by faux confidence from the before mentioned booze. 

He opened his mouth to talk as I began to take my jean jacket off and placed it on my lap, exposing my shoulders to the cool air. His voice hitched in his throat, causing him to cough a little, his eyes never leaving me. 

“Yes?” I pressed, raising my eyebrows at him. 

“Oh, yes, um, sorry,” he said, and I could tell he was fending off embarrassment. “Just that I never expected you to drink pints of Guinness and know whisky by the smell or…”

His cheeks turned red, and after his eyes scanned down my body he buried his nose in his drink, taking an audible gulp. My eyes widened and I couldn’t help but let out a giggle. Ted’s eyes darted back to me as he brought the drink down to the bar. 

“Well, I think there’s a lot that would surprise you about me,” I teased with a smirk, picking up my drink and chugging the last half. I set the glass back down with a loud clang, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. He raised his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side in interest.

Before I could get other word out, I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder. Ted looked over my shoulder at someone and I followed his gaze, turning around to see Jo. 

“ It’s Joey! TED! You have to meet my friend. You’re going to LOVE her name,” I exclaimed a little too loudly. 

“Hello, I’m Jolene, this little blonde bundle of Guiness’ best friend and roommate,” she said, putting a hand out to Ted. He took her hand in his and shook it. 

“Nice to meet you Jolene- wait Jolene?” he asked, it dawning on him. A stupid, drunk, shit eating grin spread across my face. “Wait, you mean like the hit song by our Lord and Savior, Miss Dolly Parton?”

Jo smiled. “That’s the one!”

“Well butter my butt and call me toast. Best friends with names from song titles? That’s pretty gosh darn cool if I do say so,” he said, his speech slightly slurring. 

“Isn’t it the best?!” I stated, still too loudly.

“Alright, well it was very nice finally meeting the man I shouted ‘wanker’ at for a long time, but I do believe I need to get this little light weight home. Did she drink an entire pint while over here?” Jo asked Ted. He nodded. 

“And made fun of me drinking whisky,” he added.

I giggled to myself, thinking back to that interaction. “It was hilaaaaaaarious. You should have seen his face!”

“Ohhhhhkay Penny, let’s say goodbye to Ted,” she said, putting her hands on my shoulders to help me get up. As I stood my knees wobbled, thankfully Jo caught me though. I draped my jacket over my shoulders, it making me want to be in my bed cozy and warm. 

“Are you going to be okay getting her home, Jolene?” Ted asked, a look of concern on his face. 

“That’s very sweet of you Ted, but I’ve got her. This isn’t going to be the first time I’ve had to cart her drunk ass home…or the last,” she said, turning to me and giving me a wink. I scoffed, giving her an over exaggerated face. 

“Alright then. Well, was nice to meet you Jolene,” he said, nodding to her with a large grin, “and it was good seeing you Penny.” 

“It was good seeing you, too, Coach. And thank you for my beer! That was very kind of you,” I said, giving him a smile. 

“Anytime, Penny.”

As Jo and I began to walk away, I stopped, my brain acting before my common sense could catch up and stop it. I leaned in close to Ted, my lips practically brushing his earlobe. 

“I was going to tell you,” I started softly into his ear, “one thing that might surprise you about me is that I didn’t hate you walking in on me naked, and I don’t think you hated it either.” I stepped away, giving space for me to see the shocked but relieved look on his face. 

I gave him a scrunched nose smile. “Goodnight, Coach.” 

Jo and I exited the bar, and the moment we were outside she stopped me, holding me arm’s length. 

“Did you just tell Ted what I think you did?” 

I giggled. “Mmhmm.”

She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and began to walk us in the direction of the tube. “I can’t wait to tell hungover Penny what you just said.”

[blacktofade]

Feb 1 — Touch starved

Hookhausen

People know better than to touch Hook. Which means it almost makes sense that Danhausen doesn’t. Danhausen isn’t people. Danhausen doesn’t know better.

Instead, he pops up when Hook least expects it, eyes always bright, his gaze always far too perceptive. He may bat at and bump into Hook, but he somehow misses the worst of Hook’s bruises and the sorest parts of his body. It’s almost unnerving.

But then Danhausen stops popping up, stops lurking behind equipment trunks as Hook gets ready, stops seeking Hook out for insane vlog snippets. And Hook gets what he’s always wanted because no one touches him at all.

Except for in the ring. Where they make him hurt, leave him with marks across his skin, like that’s all he deserves.

The latest bruises from Ethan Page are fresh and stark across his body. Blending with the lines of his tattoos and still hot to the touch. The insides of his arms hold the worst of it. Where Ethan had held him aloft, fingers so tight that Hook can account for every single one with matching marks.

There’s a scrape on his knee from where he’d been dropped and it stings every time he moves, so he tries not to.

“Hook fought well,” a voice says from behind, almost startling Hook because he’d thought the locker room was still empty. He hadn’t heard the door swing open and closed. He hadn’t heard any footsteps.

He knows who it is, but glances over his shoulder anyway.

Danhausen peers back at him, one hand folded over the other, lingering as though he hasn’t yet made up his mind whether or not he’s staying.

“But Danhausen supposes Hook always fights well,” Danhausen continues, gesturing with one hand like it’s a known fact. “Danhausen would not want him as a tag partner otherwise.”

Hook didn’t ace his English classes in school, but he’s almost certain it’s not past tense. Danhausen wants Hook as a tag partner.

Hook looks away and stares back down at his knee.

Now that Hook’s aware of his presence, he can hear the way Danhausen moves, the light noise of his boots against the concrete floor, the way he mouth-breathes, the sound of his palms rubbing against his thighs as though drying them.

Danhausen climbs over the bench to sit next to him, leg pressing against Hook’s own, as though he can’t quite control all of his limbs. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to.

Not that Hook cares. It’s the first touch that doesn’t hurt and he stares down at Danhausen’s ridiculously glittery leggings and wonders how he’s let this happen.

“Danhausen has heard a rumor that perhaps Hook no longer has a tag partner.”

Jack had said it was one night only. He supposes that maybe the rumor has a little truth to it.

The sweat hasn’t even cooled on his body and Danhausen’s already there trying to fill a gap Hook didn’t really know existed.

After a moment, Hook nods, just once, and Danhausen’s thigh presses just a little firmer against his own.

“Hookhausen was a good team once,” Danhausen tells him. “Unstoppable.”

They were a ridiculous team, but it’s true. Weirdly, they worked well together.

“What about your Best Friends?” Hook grunts and Danhausen shifts beside him, almost seeming surprised that Hook’s said anything at all.

“Best friends are replaceable,” Danhausen tells him without the slightest hint of humor and Hook glances over, frowning.

Hook’s gaze darts around Danhausen’s face, but Danhausen doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move.

“So, what if you decide to replace me?” Hook asks after a long moment, and Danhausen shrugs, like it’s nothing at all.

“Danhausen doesn’t want to replace Hook.” Danhausen says and sets his hand on Hook’s leg, fingertips resting just above the scrape on his knee. Always more perceptive than anyone gives him credit for. “Danhausen knows a good thing when he sees it.”

The warmth from Danhausen’s hand radiates out, spreads up his thigh, across his hip, up and up until it settles somewhere in his chest.

[rhettabbotts]

dilf!Rhett who only wants to take care of you after you’ve had a long week but you’re bad at letting people take care of you. maybe the girls have been acting up some because it’s finally nice outside and it’s the end of the school year and they’re getting anxious for summer. and the nice weather means that Rhett has had to work later so they haven’t seen him as much, all the work in the fields needing his attention at the moment. so you’ve had to give timeouts and take away dessert privileges (something you hate having to do and actually haven’t had to do for months). not to mention you’ve stayed overnight several times the past few weeks, Rhett staying out in the barn until all hours of the night to fix equipment that’s on its last legs, hoping he can get it to squeak through one more season before he has to replace it. but it’s Memorial Day weekend and he’s given his guys a long weekend even though the weather is going to be perfect to get a ton of work done. he misses his girls - all three of them - and he wants family time, just as much as he wants to give you a break. so he sets up a backyard bbq for his little family, keeps your glass full of lemonade and then something a little more fun as the sun sets. he doesn’t let you lift a finger unless it’s to scoop some watermelon into your mouth. he keeps the girls occupied as much as possible so you can relax on one of the lounge chairs he specifically bought for the two of you to enjoy. you spend the afternoon watching him splash around in the kiddie pool he bought for your girls. the one time he actually lets you do something is when you rub sunscreen on to his shoulders and back, and he only lets you do that so he can be spared the skin cancer lecture you like to throw at him whenever he turns up even the slightest bit red. (that may have also been a bit selfish on his part but 🤫) it kills you to let him do everything for you and to not let you help at all. so you start the dishes when he puts the girls to bed and suddenly he’s sneaking up behind you “what d’ya think you’re doing?” his drawl is low in your ear and his hands are warm against your hips. you try to stutter out a protest but he keeps talking, “didn’t want you do have to do a thing today, darlin’. you do so much for us and the girls have been fussy, wanted you to have a relaxing day. I’ll do the dishes tomorrow, let’s just sit outside… nah, no arguing with me. we’re gonna go look at the stars.” and then he plops the two of you in his lounge chair, sharing a bowl of Italian ice he’s produced from god knows where. when that’s gone his cool lips press against the back of your neck, slightly sticky but oh so sweet. nothing happens that night besides some kissing under the stars but it’s one of the best nights the two of you have together prior to officially getting together. (still one of the best after you get together too)

elle oh my godddd😵‍💫😵‍💫

the fact that he still takes care of you even before you’re together!!!! his sticky lips kissing down your neck and then when he turns your around, across your exposed skin on your chest. tempted to get a peek at what’s underneath. just showing his appreciation for everything you do!

[omegaplus]

# FINAL POST.

Ask me if there was one moment in my life that changed everything for the better. I’ll tell you: it was discovering both Cold Cave’s “Confetti” and Prurient’s Cocaine Death. It’s the Summer of ‘11 when the worst decision of my life was still being played out. I was suffering in a place I never imagined I would be; the product of the late Oughts’ economic crash when I went broke and bounced from job to job. I had no choice but to wave the white flag and take the first thing offered to me. I lost everything a few years prior that made me: a radio show, music shopping, graphics design, writing, and more. When I heard the opening notes to “Confetti”, I felt magic. It gave me a vibe and showed me a beauty I was going to look for in the years to come. Cocaine Death was created by Brooklyn noise artist Dominick Fernow who had a vision and aesthetic that intrigued me so much that I was curious to see what other things surrounded his origins. He was the reason why I discovered Cold Cave. Months passed and despite living through a personal hell at work, “Confetti” and Cocaine Death signified a new beginning for me. I got back into the habit of burning music, resumed Photoshop, and started writing again. I had enough momentum that I decided the time was right to get back into radio. I had a show during my stay at Stony Brook University, which ended when my tenure did. I had just enough music to give it another shot. Finds from Geneva Jacuzzi, Washed Out, Asteroids Galaxy Tour, Glass Candy and Italians Do It Better made me feel something. I got in touch with the current general manager and on December 12, 2012 (12/12/12) Omega WUSB was born.

Around that time, I made friends with some of the other co-workers who were more on my side and knew a thing or two about respect, privacy, and personal space. I helped my ex- moved into a new residence, I caught up with co-workers from previous jobs who gave birth to their first-borns with their deadbeat dads nowhere in sight, and re-united with old classmates from the Brentwood era whom I haven’t seen since. If that wasn’t enough, an all-too-special interest during the Stony Brook era decided to reach out to me - by total surprise - wanting to pick up where we left off. I was finally back into it. The following Summer, that potential and I were getting closer, and I finally got myself a second job to leave the consequences of the first. It’s not even halfway into my first year back that I was going crazy with Omega WUSB, and I was already enjoying it; being back in my element of playing music over the airwaves from a tattered control room with broken antiquated equipment which none have been replaced since the late Sixties. It felt great to be back. For the next ten years, Omega WUSB took me places, taught me things about myself I never knew, and showed me what it took to keep ongoing projects running. Since I’d be constantly finding music to keep my show fresh, why not start a blog and tell my listeners how enthusiastic I was about it? On December 2013, I started Ω+. What really made Ω+? It was a literal reflection of myself; a personal music diary of radio shows I played, releases in my library, purchases, mixtapes, live experiences, random things I listened to, listening habits and more. This was the place where I had no shame telling everyone what I was into, and I did it to prove a point. I aimed to make this blog stand out over everything else here. To do that, I posted about every genre I got my ears on because I truly enjoyed everything I listened to. It’s why you saw everything from indie, hip-hop / rap, post-punk, d.i.y, noise, industrial, shoegaze, d-beat, reggae, jazz / fusion, jungle, and much more to list.

There were also other ideas I had that no other music blog had: numbered posts, seasonal mixtapes, extensive year-end lists and best-of posts, personal insights, and tons of candor - much more to my benefit. Our favorite months were our ‘second issue series’ and ‘clearance sales’ where we posted heavily about alternate covers, colored vinyl and cassettes and other rarities which drew our largest amounts of followers. Plus, plenty of receipts of years past and many from two ‘record store victory tours’ (‘18 and ‘22) covered here. Wanted to know what was on a mix cassette or CD-r my friends gave me, or what played off of my iPhone or iPod during a train ride or walk through Central Park? The song that played on the overhead as a potential, and I sat over ice cream? What I listened to during a specific point in time, or what band tees people wore at a certain show I attended? It was all here. It got off to an inconsistent start (one which I’ll never get over when you see the archives), but eventually it got rolling when I made it a point to post consistently and have a presence because that’s how you got likes and followers. And Christ did I hammer at it. But without Omega WUSB, Ω+ wouldn’t have existed, and you wouldn’t be reading this now. For 10 years it gave you something not many or no other music blog gave you. Now, after lots of consideration, I’m making the decision to finally end Ω+ once and for all. This is our final post. ********************** It started during the pandemic summer when someone I met here left a poisonous impression on me. My anxiety and depression came back and totally threw me off. I couldn’t think straight as I was too busy figuring out the hurt and pain she just created for me. I wasn’t focused and wasn’t posting as much in as I used to. The pushback was enough that I started feeling different about lots of things and seriously wondered what I was still doing here. That was when Ω+ started to suffer.

Up until this point I’ve been falling behind and that’s not good. Once you fall behind on a music blog like this, it’s almost impossible and time-consuming to come back. And to come back, you have to short-change yourself. Cheat, cut corners, and be inconsistent with what’s being posted. After posting at least (on average) 38+ times a month, coming up with new ways of saying the same things over and over and over and over and over again, and writing in a way that keeps readers attention, then after all is said and done, what was I / Ω+ getting back in return? It used to get 250 followers a year, and I had to pull teeth in order to get them. When you put in so much work to show your followers how awesome and crazy an album or single is, only to get an average of 10 likes on each post (barring some of Omega WUSB’s playlists), and see others post the same exact thing for ten times the amount, it does get rather discouraging. I always felt, with millions of readers on here and with music being a universal thing, how and why was it so hard to get more out of what I do?

Some say you don’t do it for the numbers, you do it for personal satisfaction. Getting that personal satisfaction was never an issue by simply running this page because I always loved staying in touch and finding things in common with my followers. Only then I wanted all the numbers coming to me. Not getting that consistency that I wanted, even after 10 years of Ω+, feels like a letdown. I was hoping to have exactly 22 entries per month this year. Then, this happens: instead of privately posting entries on the spot before the month was over, I ended up queuing them at the last minute and miscalculated. Only 11 entries for August were posted, with the others after the fact in September, so there’s zero chance of getting the others back. I fucked up. The final straw was when I have seen my perfect format slightly altered as the header images now became smaller and wasn’t fitting the text column width entirely. It’s bad enough having to spend hours trying to find a working theme, only to see it messed around with no rhyme or reason. I reached a point to where I felt I was throwing my time away for less-than-desired gain, and what was once one of my favorite things to do became tiring and heavy-headed. In short: I’m massively overwhelmed with no end in sight. I’m too exhausted and don’t have it in me anymore in this capacity to keep this going. ********************** I’m in a much better place than I was ten years ago, financially and ambitiously. I still have everything I took back and more. I still have the radio show, and still do graphic design, sound editing, and photography. But there are still things left on the backburner. I haven’t written or created anything in months but want to again. There’s a backlog of music I’ve yet to listen to from last year’s massive island- and city-wide record-store shopping spree that left me 560+ vinyl records, tapes, and CDs richer and $3,000 poorer - and also from another shopping spree on top of that.

There are plenty of books I bought that I need to read up on, and tons of cassettes and VHS tapes I need to digitally transfer. I just started learning Italian thanks to one of the best people ever. I purchased a coding book six months ago that I’ve yet to even open. I’m still recovering from the retail-hell climate that took a daily toll on my mental and emotional health so heavy that it was depleting me. Now, I work at home and managed to stay with the company; essentially keeping my 401K, medical, and my time-off. Total game-changer. Since my dad left, I’ve been practicing self-care in ways I wasn’t allowed to. I took the time to step back, re-assess myself, and be the person I always wanted to be, with no constant surveillance of people keeping tabs on me. I’ve enjoyed many moments - arcades, travels to New York City, holidays with my family, live industrial-music shows in New York City, and meeting specific people - when I have them. My company has changed. Though I parted ways from some of the best co-workers I had, I also did the same from separating myself from the daily cast of the undesirable public.

My vision and state of mind have changed due to anti-depressants, focusing on some specific valuable people, and not having to think about the worst as much. Different things made by different people have happened. I’m welcoming and embracing the changes I’ve made for myself, and there’s plenty more I need to do. Right now, I’m still simplifying my life and focus on what I want to do from now until the day I cash it all in for good. ********************** What Ω+ leaves behind is ten years in the life and diary of one person’s lifetime listening habits and acquisitions of music. Decades of personal mixtapes, gifts from friends, giveaways, and the evolution of listening habits. Plenty of quarterly personal seasonal playlists, playlists of the day, and past WUSB shows when they happened. A roadmap of two record store victory tours, various receipts, and almost all live experiences ever attended. How about those ‘second issue’ series focusing on rare, out of print, and mispressed releases plus alternate covers, color vinyl and cassette editions? A multitude of year-end and even end-of-the-decade best-of lists. Documents of Omega WUSB’s anniversaries and all-out Summer broadcasting seasons. Locales, venues, and what t-shirt everyone was wearing. An enthusiasm of hip-hop’s golden age, post-punk / d.i.y., hardcore / metalcore, industrial, sampling culture, and vinyl treasures. Practically almost every genre, decade, and format Ω+ got it hands on.

Every song, album, purchase, listen, experience, interaction, broadcast, mixtape, playlist, purchase, and venture has all been documented here - and with all the utmost honestly and openness. All of that stops here. We (at Ω+) say this right now to save you the uncertainty: we’re not like those other blogs who abruptly stop posting without a heads-up and leave you hanging for months (or even years) waiting for another entry or at least announcing a hiatus, then decide to pop up once more and swear that things get rolling again. Guess what? You never heard from them again after that. What a surprise. Like unreliables, most promise but don’t deliver. Not us. When we say we’re done, we mean it. We’re done. We’re not posting again after this. There’s no coming back. No false hope or waiting for a day that will never come. (I’m sure you wouldn’t like being lied to or short-changed by anyone, either.) But, I’ll still be filling in the blanks from last year for completeness, as lives up to its name with this final post - in its current form. But, here’s a catch… There’s one follower of Ω+ who happens to be as obsessed and crazy about music as I am. Imagine that. She doesn’t have a dedicated music blog like this, but instead, has loads of Spotify playlists, plenty of audio and video posts all across many different accounts and social media. Between us, we’ve given each other CDs, records, and cassettes for holiday gifts and birthdays. We’ve traded MP3’s, and mailed out entire boxes of tapes from personal collections. We’ve been turned on to other’s recommendations. Our enthusiasm with finding and sharing music is unimaginable; perhaps more than what any normal human being is capable of. We have lots of artists, bands, genres, and even specifics in common that it was almost improbable to have found each other, but we did. She started following us not too long ago, so she’s going to be disappointed to learn that this music blog has come to a full stop. But, I’m not the one to disappoint. That is a total non-negotiable. So, I decided to re-invent it. Ω+ is now dead. Long live ΩRMX.

ΩRMX is a revision of the original with all the seasonal mixtapes, Omega WUSB playlists, personal posts, record-store receipts, live experiences, and other important stuff that made it. Instead of reviews, they’ll be replaced with now- or currently-listening. Tagging will be minimal and not specific, and some other details like numbered posts have been left behind. Everyone passing through will know what I’ve been listening to in real time. It’ll be simpler and faster for me to post without having to spend too much time and be constantly under the gun to do so. Problem solved. As much as I’d love to, I can’t continue with this specific music -blr with how it’s currently done. I really don’t want to completely give up on it altogether. I’ll be doing things a little differently. I’m still curious to see who’s paying attention to what I’m listening now or did XX years ago, or if anyone had experienced what I have. I’d also like to know if what I’m doing still separates myself from the others - if those types of -blrs still even exist. ********************** At this point, Ω+ stays here for posterity’s sake and becomes a curiosity for anyone who accidentally discovers it. I only hope future visitors get what I’ve done and how I’ve done it differently than the other music -blrs found here, or anywhere. To everyone who have followed us back, liked our entries, reblogged, supported, or even messaged us to see what happened to us, I appreciate it all. As we always say, we hope you took something with you.

-

Ω+: December 2013-December 2023.

[darkmaga-retard]

Mark Wauck

Aug 21, 2024

First, just to let readers know what’s up with light posting. In a little less than a month my wife will be having hip replacement surgery. We have a variety of things to do to be ready for that. In addition, some dental work for my wife has come to the fore, so we’re trying to get that done before the surgery. I’m not great at juggling things, multi-tasking, so I can only do my best at keeping up.

Now, today, after the grampa stuff I mentioned (very rewarding), I listened to a couple of Danny Davis videos—who’s on fire after his vacation. Both videos are highly recommended. One was with Doug Macgregor:

Col Douglas Macgregor Ukraine BufferZone in Kursk Disaster Awaits

Macgregor made no bones about what he thought of the Kursk incursion by Ukraine. He termed it a complete disaster. He stated that as many as 12k troops may have been sent into the the Kursk region, but that the Russians have already killed about 4k. The rest are largely cut off from resupply, have no effective defensive positions, have lost most of their heavy equipment, and are now being hammered with everything Russia can throw at them—including things like fuel air explosives. He adds that he has heard that as many as 2k of those troops were foreigners. This was a true NATO invasion, and Russians are enraged. They want their army to go all the way west.

Davis and Macgregor also discussed the Middle East. Macgregor repeated his view that Netanyahu is calling the shots, and that this places the US in a precarious position. If Netanyahu’s plan for a major regional war—including Iran—comes to fruition, thousands of US personnel will be at high risk. Macgregor emphasized that US actions in Ukraine give Russia every reason to supply a variety of Middle East actors who are hostile to the US with top flight Russian weapons systems. That means missiles, for the most part. Missiles that can get through to US bases and US ships. In Iran’s case, of course, it also means air defense equipment.

[colourstreakgryffin]

One Piece Treasures: Father! Roronoa Zoro Headcanons

For my little sister! I spent hours working on this! Please enjoy! Dokusha aka Y/N is called Shimotsuki here! The name is referencing Shimotsuki Kuina, the friend that basically shaped Zoro

Just a single set of unfortunate circumstances landed you, a abanonded helpless nameless eight-year-old, in the custody of the one and only Pirate Hunter, Roronoa Zoro

Do you think Zoro is a bad parent? Hope not, because he isn’t. With the way he treats Luffy, he is, without a doubt, a very dedicated and accomodating figure

Overprotective is his middle name. The Thousand Sunny became childproof in mere seconds. All the sharp cutlery and tools, replaced with plastic replicas. All of the Crew’s stock of booze and cigarettes, over the deck in no time.

He can’t stand anybody talking down his cute little swordswoman but keeps all his fury bottled up. Lashing out in front of you will make you cry and Zoro doesn’t want to hurt or scare you so he becomes really good at keeping himself composed for longer periods of time

Zoro’s responsible and surprisingly well-equipped for parenthood. He cuts down his aggression and knocks off the swearing around you. His sense of organisation also jumped, he can look after your stuff alongside his excellently

Zoro has been teaching you his three-swords style. You need to be able to defend yourself when you grow up. It’s not like Zoro will sit down and let threats harm his daughter but he won’t be around forever to protect you

He gets a lot of shit from Nami for letting you handle his katanas. What’s the issue, woman?! He is always watching over you! He will make sure you don’t cut yourself, that being because Zoro will never let you out his sight

Off the grand high seas and at new islands, you sometimes have to deal with mean children and lose fights to them. Thankfully, Zoro will be there to shoo them away, cradle you, wipe away your tears and make you feel better

“Don’t worry, my little Strawberry. I’ll give you my katanas to deal with them next time, okay?”

Aunt Nami spoils you rotten. She takes you to play as girls, to go “shopping” and braid your cute hair! She barks a lot at Zoro for “not treating you like a child”

“Swords?! Are you moronic?! It seems like you’re trying to kill her! She’s only eight!”

“Relax! She can take care of herself and I’m literally right here!”

Zoro got you a carbon copy of his earrings so you’d match with him. He can’t help but feel his heart melt as you wave one of his sheathed swords around on the Poop Deck and yell “I’m trained by the best swordsman ever! I’m Tsuki Zoro!”

Zoro also got you a really cute kimono styled like his! You’re actually the biggest daddy’s little princess ever as you eventually end up matching him in many ways

Zoro is a affectionate father. He loves giving piggybacks, holding you on his hip, he sleeps with you cuddled to his chest, he gives you cheek and forehead kisses all the time. Zoro is especially affectionate after finishing a mission or a duty and returning to the Thousand Sunny as to make up for worrying you and/or not bringing you along

Zoro prefers that you stay on the Thousand Sunny as you’re safer there than with the adventuring crew. You have came along more than once against Zoro’s wishes but having you around raises Zoro’s defensive nature, he hisses at anybody who seems too friendly with you

“I’m sorry for being mean to that kid, little Strawberry. I just don’t trust any of these villagers. Could you stay with Daddy, please?”

Zoro can come back to the Thousand Sunny VERY injured and he will gladly give you piggybacks and/or shoulder rides to make you smile. Your happiness is his fuel and you’re his top priority

Uncle Luffy is your favourite caretaker but Zoro’s biggest headache. Zoro is still quite the overprotective dad and Luffy’s recklessness with you is stressing him out. Fun fact; Luffy got you a straw-hat charm bracelet for your first birthday with the Strawhat Crew! He thought it was cute

“Luffy! PLEASE, be careful for once! Shimotsuki’s too young to be playing up so high!”

“Strawberry! Come here! Give Daddy a hug! What happened? …What?! Uncle Sanji ignored you?! Here, go play with Uncle Luffy. Daddy needs to go talk to Uncle Sanji”

Cut to poor Sanji tied-up to the lookout tower with his mouth gagged as Luffy carries you out from the captain’s bunk to see the pretty waves. When you noticed Sanji, you pointed at him and asked Luffy about it

Zoro cries almost hysterically everytime you successfully perform a move from his three-swords style. He is so proud that he wants to scream it out to the seven seas

“That’s my girl! Go, little champion! Just look at her! …She’s on her way to be the best swordswoman”

Zoro’s crying with Luffy doing his best to comfort him whilst you bounce over to your father and happily babble about that you just performed a move without his help

Zoro is quite emotionally attached to you. To think, he was grossed out by the idea of parenting but in a few months, it all changed. Now, he can’t bare to imagine scouting these grand seas without his little strawberry

Zoro goes murder mode everytime any of the crew’s enemies manages to land a hit on you. You got that small left cheek scar from a Assassin out for Luffy’s bounty and Zoro had to be pinned down by his own team so he wouldn’t dice the assassin into crumbs on the spot

“Little Strawberry! Did that bad man hurt you? what a cut… Aww, go to Aunt Nami, she’ll look after you. Daddy and Uncle Luffy will take care of that bad man but quickly, give Daddy a hug. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop that, love”

[drsanjaygupta-1]

Best Orthopaedic Doctor Vaishali Ghaziabad

Discover Top-Notch Orthopedic Care with Dr. Sanjay Gupta in Vaishali, Ghaziabad

If you’re searching for exceptional orthopedic care in Vaishali, Ghaziabad, look no further than Dr. Sanjay Gupta. Renowned for his expertise and compassionate approach, Dr. Gupta stands out as one of the leading orthopedic specialists in the region. In this blog, we’ll explore what makes Dr. Gupta the best choice for your orthopedic needs and why you should consider visiting him for your hip, knee, and joint concerns.

Why Dr. Sanjay Gupta is the Best Orthopedic Doctor in Vaishali

Extensive Experience and Expertise

Dr. Sanjay Gupta brings years of experience and specialized training in orthopedics, focusing on the diagnosis and treatment of hip and knee conditions. His extensive background includes advanced training and certifications, ensuring that he provides the highest level of care. Whether you’re dealing with a sports injury, arthritis, or need joint replacement surgery, Dr. Gupta’s expertise will guide you through the best treatment options available.

Patient-Centered Care

At the heart of Dr. Gupta’s practice is a commitment to personalized, patient-centered care. He understands that every patient is unique, and he takes the time to listen to your concerns, evaluate your condition comprehensively, and develop a tailored treatment plan. His approach ensures that you receive not only effective treatment but also compassionate support throughout your recovery journey.

State-of-the-Art Facilities

Dr. Gupta’s clinic in Vaishali is equipped with the latest technology and medical advancements in orthopedic care. From diagnostic imaging to surgical procedures, the clinic’s state-of-the-art facilities ensure that you receive the most accurate diagnosis and effective treatment. The use of cutting-edge technology aids in minimally invasive procedures, reducing recovery time and enhancing overall outcomes.

Comprehensive Range of Services

Whether you’re seeking treatment for chronic pain, recovering from an injury, or considering joint replacement surgery, Dr. Gupta offers a comprehensive range of orthopedic services. His expertise spans:

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Minimally Invasive Surgical Techniques

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Dr. Gupta’s dedication to achieving positive patient outcomes is reflected in the countless success stories of his patients. Many have praised his skillful surgical techniques, effective pain management, and the improvement in their quality-of-life post-treatment. His patients often commend his ability to restore function and mobility, allowing them to return to their daily activities with renewed vigor.

Accessible and Convenient Location

Located in the heart of Vaishali, Dr. Gupta’s clinic is easily accessible for residents of Ghaziabad and surrounding areas. The convenient location ensures you can receive top-tier orthopedic care without needing to travel far. The clinic’s friendly staff is also available to assist with appointment scheduling, insurance queries, and any other needs you may have.

What to Expect During Your Visit

When you visit Dr. Sanjay Gupta, you can expect a thorough evaluation of your condition. Your initial consultation will involve a detailed discussion about your symptoms, medical history, and lifestyle. Dr. Gupta may recommend diagnostic tests to understand your condition better. Based on the findings, he will discuss the most appropriate treatment options, whether they involve conservative management, physical therapy, or surgical intervention.

For more: - https://drsanjaygupta.info/best-orthopaedic-doctor-vaishali-ghaziabad/

[theselfshippingwitch]

One time I watched the RGB episode "Dairy Farm" the day after Halloween and so I wrote this

Ray woke up to an empty bed in a pitch black room. He had felt the bed shifting as Violet got up. He closed his eyes again and, half-asleep, wondered if it was still the middle of the night or the early morning. This late in Autumn it was difficult to tell. It didn’t get light out until 7 AM.

Violet walked out of the bathroom, freezing from the cold air on her bare skin, and pulled back the sheets on the bed, revealing Ray’s body, his bare chest and soft tummy, underneath her bedsheets. Even on the worst day of the year, the day after Halloween, the sight exhilarated her. She crawled back into bed and pulled the sheets back over herself, then wrapped her body around his.

Ray felt the sheets on top of him moving and the cold air hit his bare skin as Violet crawled back into bed with him. He wrapped his arm around her, and felt her skin was cold, too. She cuddled closer to him, burying her face in his chest and kissed the skin closest to her lips softly. He was almost asleep again when the phone rang. His eyes shot open, and this time he swiveled his head and shoulders around to check the backlit analog clock behind him. 6:30. Beside him, Violet groaned, and moaned to get up to answer the phone herself. “No, you stay here, honey, I got it.” he said as he put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. He threw the covers off of himself and grabbed his pants from off the floor, pulling them on as he walked over to the phone in the next room over. “Hello?”

“Ray? It’s Sam. I’m sorry to call you so early, but I need a favor. A piece of my equipment just broke, and I need to go a few towns over to get a replacement. I need the machine fixed by tomorrow night, and it’s going to take me two days to drive there and back again. I can’t find anyone else to watch the farm while I’m gone on such short notice. Would you come up and just stay in my house for a couple days and farmsit for me?”

“Sure! I don’t mind…” Ray looked over his shoulder at the still open bedroom door. “But is it okay if Violet comes with me?”

“Yeah, that’s alright with me, but I need you guys up here as soon as possible. Thanks, Ray, you’re the best cousin in the world!”

Ray went back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of Violet’s side of the bed. He put his hand on the other side of her and leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Wake up, love. We’re going on a trip.”

She shifted so she was on her back. “A trip? To where?”

“To my cousin Sam’s dairy farm. She needs someone to watch the place for a couple days.” He got up from the bed and began to gather an outfit for her out of the bureau. She stared at him, still shirtless and with his navy blue trousers hugging his hips, and smiled fondly. He felt her stare and looked over to see her smile. “What?” he asked as he returned her smile.

“We stayed up late last night…” She sat up and let the covers fall off of her. “Very late.”

He blushed, laughing sheepishly as he handed her a clean bra and panties. “You can sleep in the car if you want.”

She took the clothes from him and put the bra on. “Do we have time for breakfast?”

"We can stop someplace with a drive-thru."

-

Four hours later, they were driving down dirt paths lined with long patches of nearly-bare trees broken up only by tall corn fields. “I’m telling you, Violet, you’re gonna love it! The fresh air, the tranquility, nothing around for miles but the beautiful foliage, the fields of fresh grass, and the occasional sound from the farm animals, I think it’s just what you need after that busy Halloween season.”

Violet smiled as she looked out the window. “It sounds amazing, Ray. I can’t wait to see it.” She looked over at him as he continued driving. She put her hand in his free hand, and he immediately intertwined his fingers with hers, glancing away from the road to smile and blush before focusing on the road again.

When they got to the farm, Ray took both his own bag of clothes and Violet’s from the trunk. Sam was there waiting for them. “Ray, you’re here!” She hugged him. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. You’re a real life-saver!”

She moved to hug Violet next. “Violet, it’s so nice to see you again!” They had met when Sam came over to visit for Christmas last year, and Violet had already gotten the speech from her. “Break his heart and I’ll break your face.” Violet couldn’t say she blamed her. There was something about Ray that just made any woman love him to the point of extreme protectiveness right away.

“I wish I had more time, but I've got to get going. I left some instructions for taking care of the animals on the kitchen table. Bye, and thanks again!” Sam got in her own car and drove off, leaving Ray and Violet alone on the farm.

“So, what do you think?” Ray motioned all around him. “Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah! It’s even better than I imagined. It’s beautiful, Ray!” Violet said as she looked to the fields leading up to the quaint little farmhouse with the big front porch, and the woods beyond it. She breathed in the fresh air deeply, and grinned. Somehow, Ray realized exactly what she needed even before she did.

“I told you!”

“I believed you! And you were right.”

He smiled. “You should have heard the reaction when I tried to get the guys to stay here. They all hated the idea so much, I think the only thing that kept Peter from walking back to New York City is the fact that he liked Sam so much.”

Violet giggled. “Well, I can’t see why. I love it!”

“I’m glad you do. Someone else finally sees the appeal of this place!” Ray started making his way towards the farmhouse, and then looked back at Violet. “Now come on, I owe you one actual, home-cooked breakfast!”

[diabolus1exmachina]

Jaguar XK 150 

The XK150 is often unfairly overlooked by enthusiasts.Never truly tested in competition, unlike its forebears, the model lacks something of the sporting appeal that made its earlier incarnations so irresistible.But you don’t have to look far around before you begin to appreciate that this consummate grand tourer is very much standing on the shoulders of giants.While the shape lacks some of the delicacy and raw sporting appeal of the all-conquering 120, enough of the magic remains to seal its place in the list of Big Cat greats.

The family line became increasingly refined from that first groundbreaking 1948 XK120, but while the XK140 of 1954 represented a gradual improvement on the roadster-cum-racer, the 1957 XK150 was a bolder step forward.

Thoroughly modern, the 150’s body was wide and tall, with a higher scuttle and raised waistline that almost completely masked the 120’s elegant hips.

The split windscreen that was a feature of both earlier generations was replaced by a curved one-piece unit, while on coupé models such as magnificent XK150 3.8 SE the entire frame was subtly moved forward by four inches, an almost imperceptible change but one that gives the 150 a purposeful, muscular feel.

Beneath the bulkier bodywork there was a much-improved cabin, but the XK150 otherwise shared a great deal with its predecessors, with little difference to the chassis and running gear of the 140, except for sharper rack-and-pinion steering and all-round Dunlop disc brakes in place of drums. The venerable 3.4-litre twin-cam straight-six that had already proved itself for almost a decade remained and, though it now produced 190bhp thanks to a reworked head, performance was a touch underwhelming until the arrival of the Special Equipment variant.Twin 1¾in SU HD6 carburettors and a big-valve head raised power to 210bhp, while the full-fat ‘S’ – complete with triple HD8 carbs and a straight-port head – put out an impressive 250bhp.The biggest change came in 1960, when the MkIX saloon’s powerful 3781cc straight-six was made available for the first time.With the larger-capacity engine the range-topping XK150S turned out a career-best 265bhp – enough to hit 60mph in just 7 secs.

[dollsonmain]

Washing my new pants and I've run into the same problem with EVERY pair of pants.

Too big in the waist, too tight in the hip.

-

I discovered that Walgreen's is currently mired in an anti-discrimination lawsuit (specifically in California) and I do tick a bunch of the "equal-opportunity" boxes.

female

disabled

veteran

over 40

It's possible corporate's application algo flagged me as a diversity hire.

I've also learned that many, many stores are being closed. There are two Walgreen's, here, and two CVS. There used to be a Rite Aid but it was replaced by the second Walgreen's. Apparently CVS and Rite Aid are closing a lot of locations, too.

Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a list online that I can look at to see if this store is being closed. That would be alright, really. I would have a few months of work and income, insurance for a little while, and then a totally neutral reason for no longer working there.

-

That's kind of weird to me that stores are closing because stocks went down after being high during the height of the pandemic. They're probably still making more money than they did pre-pandemic but it's less than they were making during, so the stores are less valuable and closing, taking all those jobs with them.

Stocks are fucking weird, man.

Looking at the job description and it's basically Do Everything.

Responsibilities

Models and delivers a distinctive and delightful customer experience.

Registers sales on assigned cash register, provides customers with courteous, fair, friendly, and efficient checkout service.

Customer Experience

Engages customers and patients by greeting them and offering assistance with products and services. Resolves customer issues and answers questions to ensure a positive customer experience.

Models and shares customer service best practices with all team members to deliver a distinctive and delightful customer experience, including interpersonal habits (e.g., greeting, eye contact, courtesy, etc.) and Walgreens service traits (e.g., offering help proactively, identifying needs, servicing until satisfied, etc.).

Operations

Provides customers with courteous, friendly, fast, and efficient service.

Recommends items for sale to customer and recommends trade-up and/or companion items.

Registers customer purchases on assigned cash register, collects cash and distributes change as requested; processes voids, returns, rain checks, refunds, and exchanges as needed.

Keeps counters and shelves clean and well merchandised, takes inventory, and maintains records. Checks in and prices merchandise as required or as directed by store manager or communicated by the shift leader.

Implements Company asset protection procedures to identify and minimize profit loss.

Ensures compliance with state and local laws regarding regulated products (e.g., alcoholic beverages and tobacco products).

Constructs and maintains displays, including promotional, seasonal, super structures, and sale merchandise. Completes resets and revisions as directed.

Assists with separation of food items (e.g., raw foods from pre-cooked) and product placement as specified by policies/procedures (e.g., raw and frozen meats on bottom shelves). For consumable items, assists in stock rotation, using the first in, first out method and restock outs.

Has working knowledge of store systems and store equipment.

Provides customer service in the photo area, including digital passport photo service, poster print and creative machine, suggestive sell of promotional photo products.

Assumes web pick-up responsibilities (monitors orders in Picture Care Plus, fills orders (pick items), delivers orders to customers as they arrive at store).

Assists with exterior and interior maintenance by ensuring clean, neat, orderly store condition and appearance.

Complies with all company policies and procedures; maintains respectful relationships with coworkers.

Completes special assignments and other tasks as assigned.

Training & Personal Development

Attends training and completes PPLs requested by Manager or assigned by corporate.

Basic Qualifications

Must be fluent in reading, writing, and speaking English. (Except in Puerto Rico)

Requires willingness to work flexible schedule, including evenings and weekend hours

Preferred Qualifications

Prefer six months of experience in a retail environment.

Prefer to have prior work experience with Walgreens.

Prefer to be fluent in reading, writing, and speaking English. (Except in Puerto Rico)

Requires willingness to work flexible schedule, including evenings and weekend hours.

The following information is applicable for San Francisco, CA applicants: Pursuant to the San Francisco Fair Chance Ordinance, we will consider for employment qualified applicants with arrest and conviction records.

An Equal Opportunity Employer, including disability/veterans.

The actual compensation that you will be offered will depend on a variety of factors including geography, skills and abilities, education, experience and other relevant factors. This role will remain open until filled. To review benefits, please click here jobs.walgreens.com/benefits. If you are applying on a job board or unable to click on the link, please copy and paste this URL into your browser jobs.walgreens.com/benefits

[enigmaticwriting]

Hey guys! Here's the update I promised. :)

Expect a lot of inaccuracies when it comes to the military side of the story! I'm doing research when I can and trying my best to make it accurate and fun, lol. Most of what I know comes from a handful of stories from veteran family members and the internet, and Call Of Duty.

Please let me know if there's any improvements I can make so I can create something everyone can enjoy. DMs are acceptable but please keep it civil. :)

Thank you for reading! Story below the cut.

TW(?): Implied loss

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Eliana sat there. Perched atop one of many ammunition and equipment boxes, waiting out the minutes or hours for the call to load up and deploy.

Holding her right hand in her left, she studied the watch pressed under her wrist as it ticked; the hour hand just barely passing the 0200 mark.

She stared at the watch face, the scuffed timepiece, and twice replaced quartz glass. The few scratches from training bore new scars over the smooth surface. Eliana owned this watch since she was fourteen, passed down to her from someone now lost.

Someone who became nothing but a fuzzy memory.

It didn't matter how hard she tried to remember them. Eliana wished she could remember them. It didn't matter how many dreams she couldn't recall upon waking. It didn't matter with the yelling or the crackling fire and splintering beams of that barn-

Eliana jolted, quickly brought back to the present as a familiar hand pat her shoulder, beckoning her to follow the captain it belonged to.

She scooted off the crate, dropping to her boots as she reflexively made to fall in line. The captain had his eyes on the horizon, his hands resting on his hips. He waited for the sniper to fall into step with him, a glance in her direction from the corner of his eye.

“You ready for this?” He inquired, his Southern accent cutting through the still air. "Yes, sir." Eliana would nod once, adjusting her two-point sling and beloved rifle as they boarded the steel cabin of the aircraft.

She'd have to be ready regardless.