#Health Care center nearby

[reasonsforhope]

Pictured: Luis Cassiano is the founder of Teto Verde Favela, a nonprofit that teaches favela residents in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, how to build their own green roofs as a way to beat the heat. He's photographed at his house, which has a green roof.

Article

"Cassiano is the founder of Teto Verde Favela, a nonprofit that teaches favela residents how to build their own green roofs as a way to beat the heat without overloading electrical grids or spending money on fans and air conditioners. He came across the concept over a decade ago while researching how to make his own home bearable during a particularly scorching summer in Rio.

A method that's been around for thousands of years and that was perfected in Germany in the 1960s and 1970s, green roofs weren't uncommon in more affluent neighborhoods when Cassiano first heard about them. But in Rio's more than 1,000 low-income favelas, their high cost and heavy weight meant they weren't even considered a possibility.

That is, until Cassiano decided to team up with a civil engineer who was looking at green roofs as part of his doctoral thesis to figure out a way to make them both safe and affordable for favela residents. Over the next 10 years, his nonprofit was born and green roofs started popping up around the Parque Arará community, on everything from homes and day care centers, to bus stops and food trucks.

When Gomes da Silva heard the story of Teto Verde Favela, he decided then and there that he wanted his home to be the group's next project, not just to cool his own home, but to spread the word to his neighbors about how green roofs could benefit their community and others like it.

Pictured: Jessica Tapre repairs a green roof in a bus stop in Benfica, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Relief for a heat island

Like many low-income urban communities, Parque Arará is considered a heat island, an area without greenery that is more likely to suffer from extreme heat. A 2015 study from the Federal Rural University of Rio de Janeiro showed a 36-degree difference in land surface temperatures between the city's warmest neighborhoods and nearby vegetated areas. It also found that land surface temperatures in Rio's heat islands had increased by 3 degrees over the previous decade.

That kind of extreme heat can weigh heavily on human health, causing increased rates of dehydration and heat stroke; exacerbating chronic health conditions, like respiratory disorders; impacting brain function; and, ultimately, leading to death.

But with green roofs, less heat is absorbed than with other low-cost roofing materials common in favelas, such as asbestos tiles and corrugated steel sheets, which conduct extreme heat. The sustainable infrastructure also allows for evapotranspiration, a process in which plant roots absorb water and release it as vapor through their leaves, cooling the air in a similar way as sweating does for humans.

The plant-covered roofs can also dampen noise pollution, improve building energy efficiency, prevent flooding by reducing storm water runoff and ease anxiety.

"Just being able to see the greenery is good for mental health," says Marcelo Kozmhinsky, an agronomic engineer in Recife who specializes in sustainable landscaping. "Green roofs have so many positive effects on overall well-being and can be built to so many different specifications. There really are endless possibilities.""

Pictured: Summer heat has been known to melt water tanks during the summer in Rio, which runs from December to March. Pictured is the water tank at Luis Cassiano's house. He covered the tank with bidim, a lightweight material conducive for plantings that will keep things cool.

A lightweight solution

But the several layers required for traditional green roofs — each with its own purpose, like insulation or drainage — can make them quite heavy.

For favelas like Parque Arará, that can be a problem.

"When the elite build, they plan," says Cassiano. "They already consider putting green roofs on new buildings, and old buildings are built to code. But not in the favela. Everything here is low-cost and goes up any way it can."

Without the oversight of engineers or architects, and made with everything from wood scraps and daub, to bricks and cinder blocks, construction in favelas can't necessarily bear the weight of all the layers of a conventional green roof.

That's where the bidim comes in. Lightweight and conducive to plant growth — the roofs are hydroponic, so no soil is needed — it was the perfect material to make green roofs possible in Parque Arará. (Cassiano reiterates that safety comes first with any green roof he helps build. An engineer or architect is always consulted before Teto Verde Favela starts a project.)

And it was cheap. Because of the bidim and the vinyl sheets used as waterproof screening (as opposed to the traditional asphalt blanket), Cassiano's green roofs cost just 5 Brazilian reais, or $1, per square foot. A conventional green roof can cost as much as 53 Brazilian reais, or $11, for the same amount of space.

"It's about making something that has such important health and social benefits possible for everyone," says Ananda Stroke, an environmental engineering student at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro who volunteers with Teto Verde Favela. "Everyone deserves to have access to green roofs, especially people who live in heat islands. They're the ones who need them the most." ...

It hasn't been long since Cassiano and the volunteers helped put the green roof on his house, but he can already feel the difference. It's similar, says Gomes da Silva, to the green roof-covered moto-taxi stand where he sometimes waits for a ride.

"It used to be unbearable when it was really hot out," he says. "But now it's cool enough that I can relax. Now I can breathe again."

-via NPR, January 25, 2025

[swetaroy]

Some Facts that Everyone should Know before having an Ultrasound Examination

A ultrasound imaging centre in Kolkata is used to diagnose many issues with organs like the liver, kidneys, ovaries, gallbladder, spleen, etc. in addition to pregnancy-related tests. Read More >> https://shorturl.at/elAVY

[beatrixst0nehill]

"Just making a little jab at my company. It's soooo frustrating earning a Master's just to wind up at a company that thinks all women are good for is inflating our breasts until they burst! My boss has been aggressively forcing every girl at our company to take experimental breast growth pills which have like a billion different side effects. So I was complaining to one of my coworkers that I'm depressed cause none of my old clothes fit anymore because, you know, I'm not a B-Cup anymore. I'm ...... whatever the hell this is! I don't even want to know honestly, it's too embarrassing. Probably an R-cup or S-cup.

But, well, my coworker ratted me out for complaining and because I said I was depressed I got this crazy letter at my desk saying 'Unhappy? We invite you to Lakehurst Women's Mental Wellness Center'. I cracked up laughing so hard I hard to run to the restroom. My boobs started lactating uncontrollably just because I was laughing SO hard, which they've been doing more and more lately. Hurray more side effects!

But for those not in the know, I'm not shocked Lakehurst is in my company's healthcare network, with how misogynistic my boss is. Basically you go there and they experiment on you to 'break you'. They force you to get insanely pregnant, like humiliatingly big, a dozen kids at once. You're kept naked 24/7 as male interns and students from nearby colleges are trained on you. They get to perform whatever kinky surgeries they want on girls, and fuck them, of course. Gotta make sure guys' dicks don't stay hard for more than five seconds, it's the state's number one priority! I hear they even lobotomize girls there for fun, to 'lower their IQ' if they score too high on tests. Because according to state law a high IQ for girls, or anything above 100 can be considered mental unwellness, and can legally be treated, by force if a partner or parent wants. Oh, and of course they also force you to grow giant tits, because having big boobs is good for a woman's mental health, or something.

Sooooo, I got my stupid letter and now I'm not gonna complain anymore. I just shut my mouth like a good girl and grow these monster tits for my pervy boss, who literally just sits in his office and jerks off all day, very loudly, to porn or he has us go in and strip, 'shake' and 'jiggle' our massive breasts for him so he can cum all over them, which we're not allowed to clean up the whole day if he does. There are already girls on our floor who have boobs so big they carry them in these trendy wheelbarrows or carts. I'm gonna buy one this weekend after I get paid because I'm kind of jealous, they are just soooo stylish and cute, and it'll make walking around so much easier, until they get so big I can't lift them up anymore. Godddd I can't believe I have to grow these stupid things, I hope my future husband really, really likes massive boobs. He's gonna have to get used to taking care of me real quick!"

[crushmeeren]

༝ ᭝ ༝ ARRANGED MARRIAGE AU — PART ONE ༝ ᭝ ༝

⤷ ⋆ ft. itachi uchiha ⋆

⋆ note ; this was inspired by this post. credit to @majesticflyingwalrus ! sfw! small bit of angst!

⋆ note x 2 ; i believe this is going to have to become a miniseries…. so let’s say this is part one — centered around a small snippet of your connection with Itachi before, your feelings on the day of, and the first year of your marriage.

master list ⤷ ⋆ PART TWO

You’d spoken to your husband maybe a dozen times before you were married.

Before you were thrown headfirst into a life long commitment with someone you could only comfortably consider an acquaintance for the sake of your clan.

Itachi Uchiha is polite. He’s collected, calm, rational. As children, he’d never been rude. He was a quiet boy, heir to the Uchiha clan. Someone who understood what it’s like to carry the weight of being the eldest child and all the responsibilities that accompany it, which you found comfort in.

Your families were close - ish, both high up on the social food chain. Whenever you’d been forced to spend time with him as a kid, he’d sit quietly nearby, working on a puzzle or reading some sort of book. Every now and then he’d invite you to join him and complete a puzzle, which featured pretty pictures of crows quite often, but you never spoke much outside of that.

Those memories you look back on with fondness, peaceful moments in an otherwise stress filled life.

As the years passed, and you reached your early twenties, your families renewed their bond, strengthened it. You remained unmarried, and so did Itachi. Your parents gave you grief over it, and when they brought up an arranged marriage, more than willing to give your hand away to Itachi, it didn’t surprise you. You’d been expecting it.

Itachi’s handsome, you respect him, and he’s kind, so you ignored the sensation of the ocean echoing in your ribcage and sucked it up. For your clan, you went along with the proposal. For your clan, you resigned yourself to a lifetime of loneliness.

Besides, you could do much worse than Itachi, right?

The planning was a breeze, over half the preparations being done for you. Your Mother, and Itachi’s, asked for your input considering certain aspects, but this wedding seemed more about the two of them instead of celebrating your union.

You have no clue if Itachi got a say in anything.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

The day of the wedding you sat alone. Your Mother had been droning on and on about “proper etiquette”, and the “importance of sticking to the itinerary”, when the reality of the situation crashed down on you. Hard.

Your entire body chilled, a rush of icy slush replacing your blood, heart caught in your throat. Sweat beaded on the back of your neck, palms clammy. Once your hands started to shake your Mother stared at you in bewilderment, her questions concerning your health muffled and far away to your ears.

You excused yourself without waiting for permission, locating the nearest vacant room to hide, crouch down, and to breathe.

Through the window you gaze at the small children from both families playing in the field. Jealousy burns hot in your chest at their carefree nature, the little ones living in ignorance and bliss. You squeeze your eyes shut to shake off the dark direction of your mind, allowing their high pitched peals of laughter to afford you a moment of calm. Reaching up you wipe the tears off your cheek with the back of your hand, careful of the delicate makeup that’d taken hours to perfect.

A soft knock on the door startles you, both eyes opening wide. You sniffle once and rise to your feet, smoothing out any wrinkles in your outfit, regaining your composure.

“Come in,” you call out, voice scratchy with the evidence of your recent crying. You clear your throat as the door opens and, to your surprise, it’s Itachi who steps in. The door swings shut behind him, not producing a single sound. Your eyebrows shoot up and Itachi gives you a small, comforting smile.

It’s silent as he walks closer, the air around you somber and achy. He sits down with enviable grace in the chair next to where you stand, patting the seat beside himself in invitation.

“I’m aware this day is…difficult,” he begins. He tilts his head up to meet your gaze, eyes warm and calm. “Your Mother told me you were in here. I wanted to be sure you were okay, so, are you alright?”

You sigh through your nose, resigned, and take a seat. Itachi reaches over and hovers his hand an inch above your knee, hesitant, before making the decision to rest it there. You stare at his hand, the lump in your throat returning, only this time it’s due to the sudden surge of affection swelling for the man.

“I’m doing well, all things considered,” you say light heartedly. You sneak your hand underneath his, thread your fingers together, and lift your head to lock eyes with Itachi, the corner of your mouth curling upwards.

Itachi laughs, and for the first time, you notice the movement crinkles the sides of his eyes. How endearing.

His expression switches to something more sympathetic, tender. “I apologize this has been forced upon you. If it helps, I’m very content with you being the one chosen for me. It’s comforting to me that I’m marrying someone who I’m on friendly terms with.”

“Yes,” you agree, eyes twinkling as his sweet words lift your spirits from the floor. “Although, I have to admit I’m heartbroken to be marrying you instead of Sasuke.”

Itachi’s jaw drops open, eyes going round like saucers before laughter bursts out of you, squeezing his hand tight as he rolls his eyes and joins in with you.

“A pity,” He teases. “I know for a fact my menace of a little brother would be ecstatic to marry someone as wonderful as you,” Itachi says, humming as he pretends to be in thought. “Don’t be surprised to find Sasuke waiting for you at the altar.”

You gasp in fake shock, leaning in to bump his shoulder with yours. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The sincerity of the statement leaves you searching for the right response, a small horde of butterflies demanding their presence be known in your belly. Things grow quiet between you once more, the silence comforting rather than awkward while you find your voice. “I am truly grateful that it’s you, Itachi. I doubt I could survive this with someone else.”

Itachi shifts his body to face yours, expression determined and serious. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make our life comfortable. Even if our relationship is not romantic, I’m grateful to be on the receiving end of your friendship. We’ll find our rhythm, promise me you won’t give up hope.”

You do promise, even going so far as to lock your pinkies together. Itachi exits first, and you follow his footsteps a few moments later.

When you leave your heart’s lighter than air.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

The first year of your marriage, Itachi lives like he’s your roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.

You sleep in different rooms, you���ve made your home in separate bathrooms, and Itachi keeps busy enough with clan affairs that his appearance throughout the day is sparse. Somehow, dinner happens to be the time you’ve both allotted for the other. It’s not in writing, and you don’t speak about it, yet Itachi joins you nearly every evening to share a meal.

You’ve created quite a comfortable routine for yourself within your new life as Itachi’s wife. That’s all it is though, comfortable. Just as Itachi promised.

Loneliness is your shadow from day one. On your wedding night, you’d harbored a shred of hope that you’d share an intimate night with your new husband. When you’d kissed Itachi in your bedroom, fumbling to undress him, his response was to break the kiss as gently as he could. He declined with a strained smile and manners that never seem to abandon him.

Crying into your pillow, alone, was not what you expected to be on the table.

Itachi sat prim and proper at the table the next morning when you tried to apologize for making him uncomfortable. He assured you that wasn’t the case, but asked that you didn’t bring it up again, as he felt that enough had been pushed onto your shoulders already. He refused to add sex that you wouldn’t enjoy to the list.

You swallowed your pride and respected his wishes, assuming it was his way of letting you down easy and that Itachi had no real desire for you besides that of a simple companion. Yes, the situation was a blow straight to the gut, but you agreed to this life, so did you really have any right to complain?

Ever since, a distance remained between you. Day after day, you took up new hobbies, doing anything to fill the hole in your heart. As ironic as it may seem, you found yourself spending tons of time with Sasuke of all people. As if you did marry him instead.

You’d decided to start going on more walks, eager to explore and appreciate the beauty the Uchiha compound had to offer, and that’s where you discovered Sasuke.

Halfway through the journey you spotted him relaxing on a stone bench, watching koi fish swim circles in the pond, peaceful as you’d ever witnessed him. You’re sure Sasuke heard you approaching, because he was not surprised in the slightest when you took a careful seat next to him.

Quiet small talk about koi fish flowed through the air, and you mentioned your wish to tend to the gardens nearby. Then, on a whim, and before you could regret it, you asked him if he’d be interested in joining you on your daily strolls. The shock must have shown on your face when he accepted, because he snickered in response.

So that’s how you filled out your days. Occupied with different things such as drawing, gardening, baking, and going on walks with Sasuke. It shocked you to the core as you found a friend and confidant in the younger Uchiha.

A month after your one year anniversary with Itachi, you join him for dinner one night. He sits stiff as a board, shoulders tense when you arrive. A quick uptick of his lips becomes your singular greeting after you say hello.

“Is everything alright, Itachi?” You ask, tone weary as you settle down in your spot across from him.

He nods once, a quick jerk of his head. “Of course, I’ve just been meaning to speak with you about something. Before that however, tell me about your day.” Itachi sets his hands in his lap, waiting for your answer with an unreadable expression.

“Oh, well it was fine. Sasuke helped me —,”

“Sasuke?” He interrupts, voice tight.

Your eyebrow raises. “Yes,” you answer slowly. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned before we go on walks together.”

“Oh, yes. You’re right. I fear I’ve been quite forgetful today.” Itachi does seem distracted, which is odd in of itself. You’re certain you’ve discussed your walks with his little brother before and he never had an issue with it. You blink in Itachi’s direction, the atmosphere turning tense and unsettling. You’re able to hear to the crickets chirping outside.

The silence is awkward. “Is there something you needed to tell me?”

Itachi’s brows pinch together, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. “Forgive me for being so out of it. Yes, something important. I spoke with my Mother and Father today, they’ve informed me the elders have been pressuring them to tell me that I need to fulfill my duty and…,” he pauses to clear his throat, gaze firm. “That you and I need to have a baby, to produce an heir.”

Your stomach drops, body flashing white hot, and your cheeks become hot to the touch within seconds. “Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. Once again you’re smacked in the face with the life you signed up for. If you’re honest, you’d forgotten about having children over the course of the past year. It’s inevitable you suppose, making little Uchiha babies with Itachi, you’re his wife. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Itachi opens his mouth to speak but you hold up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Itachi. I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to be your wife. All I ask is that you be gentle, I’m not so experienced after all,” you try to joke, but it falls flat.

His gaze softens, posture loosening. He remains quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Then guilt appears to be written all over his face. “I’m a virgin as well, so know you’re not alone in this.”

No beating around the bush with Itachi. At least he doesn’t apologize again. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, voice soft. You suck in a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and let it out slowly, steadying yourself. You’ll find time to spiral over this when you’re alone. “When are we going to start?”

Itachi shoots you a small smile, the same one full of comfort and reassurance he gave you on your wedding day. You hadn’t even realized your shoulders were hiked up with tension until they relax under his gaze. “In order to answer that, I have to ask you another uncomfortable question. When does your next cycle begin?”

⋆ ⋆ should this mini series arranged marriage au continue? lemme know what you think! ⋆ ⋆

[rauspberries]

just a friend - s.r.

spencer reid x bau liaison!reader. pt two to still a friend.

summary: you thought love was dead to you, locked away -- until you realized its in all the little things.

tags: afab reader, late seasons reader, mentions of themes present in criminal minds, slight hurt/comfort, fluff, later seasons reid

word count: 2k

notes: part two to still a friend! so much shorter because my brain keeps frying every time i type. not the proudest of it but ohhh well.

hiii @reidswrld

It had been a month since you had gone back to work. One month of countless therapy sessions, one month of reassuring hugs from Penelope and one month of recurring nightmares and panic attacks, much to your dismay.

You thought it would go away with time. That speaking about your experience with friends and a licensed therapist would help release you from the burden your subconscious loved to carry. You wished that you could lock it in a cage, push it to the back of your mind like many members of the BAU had done with their own trauma, but you couldn’t. You had always been too emotional.

Your job required you to look at cases similar to yours on a daily basis. Abductions, tortures, murders, a few done at the hands of spouses, partners. Every time you saw a photo of a victim strapped to a chair, you were reminded of that dreaded night in your kitchen, gun to your head and dread sitting deep in your gut.

While things had surely gotten better, you weren’t at your best. You pasted on a smile at work, fluttering around the desks in the bullpen and trying to hide your feelings from the gaggle of highly-proficient profilers. For the most part, it worked. Despite you knowing that they could see right through your charade, they tended to dial back the amount of concern they showed for it.

Except for Spencer.

Ever since you had finally pulled yourself off of his couch and into a new apartment, he had been watching you like a hawk, and you didn’t mind it. His company had become just as soothing as a warm cup of tea. There was a normalcy about the way he cared for you, so hidden and yet so obvious.

Spencer wasn’t the type to do big displays of affection, nor the largest fan of physical touch. While he had his moments, like his warm thigh pressing into yours on the couch or his hand snaking around the back of your neck for a reassuring squeeze, it was obvious that he preferred small acts of service instead.

He hadn’t stopped giving you annotated books. All of them sat on their own shelf in your new apartment, a shelf he had helped you pick out, carry inside and build. He had insisted on organizing them in some type of order, like alphabetical order or by author, but you refused. You kept them on the shelf in the order you received them. It was like a time capsule, looking at the notes he used to write in the margins and how much more personalized they had become over the weeks you two had spent growing closer.

There were also other things. The vase in your kitchen always had a fresh bouquet of brightly-colored flowers in it, usually centered around your favorite color. He called you at night when he knew you were attempting to sleep, knowing you’d struggle to succumb to your exhaustion, fearing the worst. He had never been a fan of movies that didn’t provoke some type of intellectual discussion, yet watched all of your rom-coms with a furrowed brow and a focused pout of his lips. When you had been particularly upset one day, he had taken you to the nearby animal shelter, watching with a ghost of a smile as you giggled at a puppy licking your face.

For him, it had always been about your happiness. For a while, you thought he was just being friendly. Other than the regulating kiss he had placed on your lips on his couch, Spencer had never shown any interest in pushing you any further, only interested in your well-being and the state of your mental health.

For a while, you would admit that he was right to do so. Calling off dating for years, finally dating just to find out he’s a murderer and then calling off dating due to your trauma was a valid reason to not consider your best friend a viable option for a relationship. But it was hard to ignore his care, his tenderness. The things he said without actually saying them. It wasn’t a question on if Spencer liked you back — the question was when either of you would feel brave enough to act on it.

One night, you slept on his couch. You had spent the evening watching all of the romance movies that made you cry until it exhausted you. Spencer had laughed at your extremely empathetic reactions, causing you to laugh until your stomach hurt, shoving at his shoulder with whiny pleas for him to stop.

Half-conscious yet leaning towards sleep, you recall where you are. Your arm aches slightly from laying on it, a strand of your hair tickles your cheek from where it’s trapped against the pillow, the pant leg of your pajamas is pulled up to the middle of your calf. You’re on Spencer’s couch. You’re safe.

That is until you hear the click of a gun, the cool feeling of metal on your forehead.

You gasp so hard you choke on air as you sit up, blinking rapidly as your heart thuds against your chest. You cough at the sudden intake of oxygen as you look around, taking in your surroundings. Spencer’s apartment. Green walls, dark wood, deadbolt on the door. You’re safe, you’re okay. 

“Hey.” A soft, raspy voice comes from near the foot of the couch. You look up to see Spencer, standing in the doorway of his bedroom with the collar of his t-shirt askew and his long curls a mess atop his head. It’s obvious you’ve woken him, especially with the way the heel of his hand automatically rubs at his eye. “Nightmare?”

You shake your head, guilt eating at you for disturbing him. “No, Spence. Just coughing. Go back to sleep, it’s okay,” you insist, not wanting to be a bother. With your jobs, a full night’s rest was a luxury - you didn’t want to take that from him.

Despite your dismissal, he steps closer, looming over the back of the couch as he looks at you. “You’re cold.” He notices, eyes focused on the slight tremor of your bottom lip and the way your fingers clutched at the thin blanket covering your lap.

Nose wrinkling, he turns to head towards the front door, grabbing a blanket off of the arm chair a foot away from it. He returns to your side just to drape it over your body, his fingertips brushing your shoulders as he pulls it up to your chin. You open your mouth to protest, but Spencer just shakes his head as he taps at your shoulder. “Sit up,” he instructs gently, voice barely above a murmur.

And, of course, you listen, moving your back off of the arm of the couch and giving him enough room to slide behind you. His long legs stretch on either side of you, caging you in, as his hands find your shoulders, guiding you to lean back against his chest. 

You react without thinking. You’re sinking into him like you’ve never felt the touch of another before, knees pressing into his as you lay your cheek upon his chest, letting yourself be soothed by the soft thudding of his heartbeat. His arm wraps around you tightly, one hand lying upon your ribcage while the other slowly traces your spine. 

“You won’t be comfortable lying like this all night.” You mumble, eyes already fluttering shut as you try to commit the feeling of lying against him to memory. “You’re too lanky for this couch.”

Spencer hums as if considering, shoulders raising in a slight shrug. His eyes aren’t focused on your face at the moment, instead watching his hand as his fingernails drag along your spine, goosebumps following in their wake. “I feel pretty comfortable right now, actually.”

Scrunching your nose, you open your eyes, chin tilting up just to look at him. “Liar,” you tease, the corners of your lips pulling up into a soft, sleepy smile. It had taken a while for a smile to appear on your face again after that night. Spencer never wanted to see it go away.

His focus finally moves from his hand to your face, eyebrows raising. “Would I lie to you?” He questions, the same taunting lilt in his tone.

You press your lips together at that, shaking your head the best you could with just how much you had molded into him. There’s an uncomfortable swirling feeling in your stomach at the way he glances down at you, solidifying the fact that was what happening right now was real. It was both a frightening and reassuring thought. “No. You wouldn’t.”

A hum rumbles in his chest in response. The hand on your back creeps up to the back of your neck, slender fingers threading into your hair as his nails brush soothingly against your scalp. You’re not sure if it's the exhaustion that makes him so suddenly touchy, but you don’t mind it. You’re convinced you could lay here forever, just like this.

“Thank you.” You murmur softly, index finger dragging along his skin from his elbow to his wrist. He doesn’t even twitch, just as relaxed as you are. It made warmth spread through your body like wildfire.

“For what?” He responds immediately, although his tone stays just as quiet and calm, a sleepy murmur to it.

The soft material of his shirt scratches against your cheek as you look up at him again, his eyes diverting to catch your gaze. “Being here. Being so nice to me. I know that’s your nature, but I feel like you’ve gone past the requirements for a supportive friend.” You trail off with an amused smile, although Spencer could see the sincerity in your eyes.

His lips tilt up at the corners in a sleepy smile, hand falling back to the middle of your spine. “No problem at all. I’d do it any time, any reason.” 

Looking up at him, you find yourself trying to memorize everything about him. The soft slant of his nose, the stray curl that stuck out like an antenna from his mussed curls, the wrinkle around his mouth from smiling. They’re all features you have found yourself finding comfort in, even before the last few months. He’d always been there, whether you had noticed it or not. Inviting you to movies you had no interest in seeing, even if you really wanted to, or staying late in the office when you did just to spin around in the chair on the other side of your desk while he babbled.

Subconsciously, you’re leaning into him further. Before you can think about it, your chin is tilting up higher, nose brushing against his tentatively. You can hear his sharp intake of breath, feel the heave of his chest underneath you, but there’s nothing that indicates him pulling back. 

So you go for it.

Slowly but surely, you press your lips against his. It’s meant to be quick, fleeting, however his hand is quick to skirt back up your spine, holding you in place with a hand at the nape of your neck. The kiss stays smooth, steady, almost agonizingly slow. It’s stable – you’re not surprised.

It only lasts for a couple moments before you’re pulling away, not wanting to seem like too much. Immediately, you lay your cheek back against his chest, letting a giddy smile twitch at your lips at the sound of his quickened heartbeat against your ear. “You’ll stay right here tonight?”

“Mhm.” He hums in response, fingernails brushing against your scalp again. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

Usually, you’d question a promise like that. Wonder if it was genuine, if you’d wake up to be disappointed. But now, being lured to sleep without a fear that nightmares would follow you, you don’t have the time to question it. 

Frankly, you don’t want to.

[blackenedsnow]

hi! i love your writing :)

i head canon that shadow volunteers for mental health organizations where they help people because he’s been there himself and wants to help people.

can you do a platonic shadow x reader one shot on that? reader is an extremely mentally ill person that shadow finds at the place he volunteers?

a quiet kind of hope

WARNING: Themes of severe depression, intrusive thoughts, implied self-isolation.

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog & Reader

NOTE: Hi!! Oh my gosh, thank you for this sweet request. Shadow volunteering for mental health organizations is such a perfect headcanon—I love the idea of him channeling his past struggles into helping others. Thank you for trusting me with something so tender. Please take care of yourself. Sending love your way <333

SUMMARY: At a community mental health center where Shadow volunteers, he finds himself drawn to you—a quiet, lost soul in need of someone who understands.

The fluorescent lights of the community center hummed faintly above as you sat tucked into a corner, knees drawn to your chest. People came and went, their footsteps echoing against the scuffed linoleum floor, but no one seemed to notice you—or if they did, they didn’t stop.

You weren’t sure why you’d come here. Maybe it was the promise of a warm drink, or the idea that someone might listen without judgment. Maybe it was just somewhere to go when the walls of your apartment felt too heavy to bear.

Shadow walked past with his usual quiet purpose. He didn’t hover or pry, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He was there enough to seem imposing, yet somehow still approachable—his crimson eyes catching the light like embers as he glanced around the room.

It wasn’t until his third lap near your corner that he finally paused.

“You’re not here for the coffee,” he said, his voice low but not unkind.

Startled, you looked up at him. Shadow didn’t sit; he crouched down instead, resting one arm on his knee to meet you at eye level.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

You shook your head. Words felt too heavy to form.

Shadow tilted his head, studying you. There was no pity in his gaze—only patience. He knew better than to push for answers you weren’t ready to give.

“I’m Shadow,” he said after a moment. “I volunteer here. If you need anything—or if you just want to sit quietly—that’s fine.”

His presence was steady, like an anchor. You nodded hesitantly, unsure if he would leave or stay. To your surprise, he moved to sit on the floor nearby, keeping enough distance to give you space but staying close enough to show he wasn’t going anywhere.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

It became a pattern over the next few weeks. Shadow never forced you to talk, never asked for more than you were willing to share. Sometimes, you’d sit in silence while he worked on paperwork or handed out supplies to other visitors. Other times, he’d offer simple observations—a comment about the weather, or a quiet remark about how the coffee was even worse than usual today.

He made it easy to exist without expectations.

One day, when the room was emptier than usual, you finally found the courage to speak.

“Why do you do this?” you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

Shadow glanced up from his clipboard. For a moment, he looked almost surprised.

“I’ve been where you are,” he said simply. “I know what it’s like to feel… stuck. Like there’s no way out. I had help when I needed it. This is my way of paying it forward.”

His honesty was disarming. You stared at your hands, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve.

“It doesn’t feel like it’ll get better,” you admitted.

“It doesn’t, at first,” Shadow said. “But it can. Slowly. The first step is the hardest—you took it when you walked in here.”

His words settled over you like a blanket—not an instant cure, but a quiet reassurance. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt just a little lighter.

Over time, your conversations grew longer. Shadow never pushed you to share more than you were comfortable with, but he listened intently to everything you said. He remembered the little details—your favorite tea, the book you were slowly working through, the things that scared you most on bad days.

In his own way, he showed you that it was okay to take up space in the world.

You didn’t realize how much you’d come to rely on his presence until one evening, when the community center was unusually quiet. You’d been lost in thought, staring at the fading light outside, when Shadow appeared beside you with two steaming cups of tea.

“For you,” he said, setting one down carefully.

You blinked up at him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Shadow’s expression softened, just enough for you to notice.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “You’re doing the hard part. I’m just here to remind you that you’re not alone.”

But one day…

The space you usually occupied in the corner of the center was empty.

Shadow’s sharp gaze swept across the room again, as if expecting you to appear any moment, but the hours ticked by, and the door remained closed.

It wasn’t unusual for people to miss a day here or there—life had a way of pulling people in unpredictable directions—but this wasn’t like you. You came to the center every time it was open, like clockwork, even on the days when you barely said a word.

Shadow couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling settling in his chest.

“You looking for someone?” one of the other volunteers asked as she packed up for the night.

Shadow nodded, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Yes. A regular.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Maybe they just needed a break. Sometimes it’s overwhelming for folks.”

“Maybe,” Shadow replied, but the doubt in his voice was evident.

He stayed a little longer than usual, tidying up stray cups and chairs as an excuse to linger. When it became clear you weren’t coming, he left, stepping out into the cold night air.

The thought of you walking home alone—head down, shoulders hunched—stuck in his mind.

The next day, you still didn’t show.

Shadow’s unease grew, twisting into something sharper. He tried to focus on his tasks, but his mind kept circling back to the hollow ache in his chest. He hated how familiar it felt.

When the center closed that evening, he made a decision. He wasn’t the type to sit around waiting for answers.

He remembered fragments of things you’d shared in passing—your neighborhood, the street you lived on. Shadow wasn’t one to pry, but he had a way of listening closely, piecing together the little details others might miss.

The streets were quiet as he walked, the night heavy with the kind of stillness that pressed against his ears. He found your building easily enough: a squat, aging structure with peeling paint and a flickering light by the entrance.

He climbed the stairs quickly, his footsteps echoing faintly.

When Shadow knocked, there was no answer.

He tried again, harder this time. “It’s me,” he called. “Shadow.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, faintly, he heard movement inside.

“Go away,” came your voice, muffled and small.

Shadow’s ears twitched. You sounded exhausted—hollow in a way he hadn’t heard before.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” he said, his tone firm but not harsh. “But I need to know you’re okay.”

Another long pause. Eventually, the door creaked open just a crack.

You didn’t meet his eyes. Your face was tired, your shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, but the words were unconvincing even to yourself.

Shadow’s gaze softened. “You’re not.”

The door opened a little wider, and he could see the state of your apartment—the cluttered surfaces, the curtains drawn tight against the light. It was clear you hadn’t been taking care of yourself, and the sight of it made something tighten in his chest.

“I didn’t want to go today,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to do… anything.”

Shadow stepped inside carefully, closing the door behind him. He didn’t speak right away, giving you time to retreat to the edge of your bed. You sat with your head in your hands, your breaths uneven.

“I know how that feels,” he said quietly, moving to sit on the floor near you. “Sometimes the world feels too big. Like you can’t face it.”

Your fingers curled tighter into your hair. “It’s not just that,” you said, your voice cracking. “It’s… everything. It’s all wrong, and I can’t fix it. I’m just—” You stopped, choking back a sob.

“You’re overwhelmed,” Shadow finished for you, his voice steady. “That doesn’t make you weak.”

Your breathing hitched.

Shadow leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You’ve survived this long. That means you’re stronger than you think.”

His words weren’t flowery or overly comforting—they were simple, grounded in truth.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice raw.

“I told you before. I’ve been there,” he said without hesitation. “I know how lonely it feels. I’m not going to let somebody drown in it.”

Shadow stayed with you that night. He didn’t push you to talk, but he also didn’t leave. He tidied the room quietly, opened the curtains to let in the moonlight, and made sure you drank a glass of water before you finally lay down.

As you drifted off, his words lingered in your mind: You’re not alone.

For the first time in days, it felt like you weren’t.

[fuck-customers]

This one just made me giggle all day. This was about a month ago

"Thank you for calling Dr. [OB/gyn], how can I help you?"

*very masculine sounding voice but I didn't think anything of it. If you got the parts and need the care, we'll see you* "Hi I need to make an appointment for an extraction consultation"

*SUPER CONCERNED, because maybe this person is speaking in code. Maybe someone unsafe is listening and they're trying to tell me they need something without alerting someone nearby. Panic mode activated!* "Is it okay if I ask specific questions and you answer as best you can?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay, so if you mean (uterus-centered health procedure) say August and if you need (different procedure) say September. If you need something different, say October."

"Huh??? No, I don't need any of that! I'm a man!"

"Oh. Okay, uhh... I'm not sure how we can help with an 'extraction'. What exactly do you need, sir?"

"I got two molars that need to come out! My dentist said to call you!"

"Oh! Okay! Unfortunately, you called an Obstetrician. We can't help you with that. You need an orthodontist."

Poor guy went silent then hung up very quickly

Later in the week we found out there's a new doctor in our medical plaza a couple buildings over with a similar name. He's like Dr. John and our doctor is Dr. John-Jim. We went over there as an office later to trade info with them so we can send mixed-up calls back and forth.

Posted by admin Rodney

[sunshinetomioka]

More Rdr2 modern AU thoughts no "criminality" in this. I just can imagine them living in some sort of commune centered around a ranch. (this was inspired by Dutch talking about the Paris commune) I changed a few ages so it fits more modern society and like most of them don't really have exact ages. Some aren't as fleshed out as the others but it's not cuz I like them less or more.

Hosea(55) : was the one who bought the ranch with Bessie then slowly Dutch, Arthur and John came to live here too. When she sadly passed away he was glad they were here. Him and Bessie were a foster home, which is how Arthur and John met them. He sees Abigail as the daughter he and Bessie would have had and therefore think of Jack as his grandson. Bessie and him were teachers in primary school.

Dutch (45): got elected mayor of the commune somehow, it doesn't actually do anything but feeds his need of power so it's cool. He is the one talking to the law and intruder most of the time if there's a problem, can't deny he has a way with word. Has like 3 accusations of starting a cult. It is unsure how he and Hosea met and when, everyone gets lost with all the stories they tell.

Arthur(36): lived here almost his whole life but can spend months away on some weird roadtrip and then comeback. Learned many different job to help around. Spend his free time either drawing or enjoying nature. Likes shooting competition too. He's chronically ill/ disabled because of tuberculosis, he's doing better than a year ago but the sequel will follow him all his life.

John (26): hated living here at some point, couldn't find anything he was "good enough" at. After taking a self discovery journey (and fleeing the responsibility of being a father this young) he found out he liked herding the cows or sheep. I can't really imagine him and Abigail still being together in a society that doesn't push women to find men like in 1899. I think there would be tension at first but they'd end up sharing "custody" of Jack, after all they live in the same "town" (and Hosea would kill John if he didn't take care of that kid)

Abigail (24): arrived here with luck, mother of Jack she would have probably aborted if she didn't have a pregnancy denial cuz she feels she's too young to be a mother (which she was, she finished high school only a year or two before!) Hosea loves teaching her the rope of the ranch, she is family after all.

Uncle (67): Came at some point, acted like he belonged and never left. Nobody can tell how he arrived. He usually goes into nearby town to buy or sell or... Well avoid work at the commune.

Susan (49): She knew Dutch for a while now and after some health related issues he decided to offer her to live at the ranch, she greatly helped with setting up everything that the commune became.

Bill (31): after getting discharged by the army he couldn't find any places that wanted him, struggled with homelessness for a while until he joined the commune. He's very helpful when it comes to muscle jobs which they clearly lacked when he joined. He probably works on the day outside the commune to make himself some money, it's mostly helping with manual task.

Javier (26): just like in the OG story he got taken in by Dutch, Trelawny somehow managed to help him get documents so he could be legal. He's an aspiring musician.

Karen (24): She was on a roadtrip when she discovered the commune, she stayed for a while before leaving and then returned a year or so later as she couldn't find anything to please her way of living in the rest of society.

Mary-Beth (23): Met Arthur in one of his roadtrip and absolutely fell in love with the stories he told her, she asked if she could join the commune in hope of finding inspiration for her books.

Tilly (21): She got to be in the commune thanks to foster care after losing both her parents. She sort of grew up with John and loves going into the city and meet people, she spends lots of time with Mary-Beth discussing their respective lives. She probably does tik tok videos to explain how they live in the commune. Her, Karen and Mary-Beth probably take Arthur with them when going to protest march and even tho he's not fond of crowds he always come if they ask.

Molly (27): A rich girl who discovered the commune through Tilly's videos. She decided to live there as a way to rebel against her family. Despite her upbringing she loves the place and the people but never shows it.

Lenny (19): studying in the university in the biggest city near the commune, Dutch met him the day he initially got rejected from uni, he said he could use a guy like him once he'd graduate and somehow found a way to have Lenny accepted. Comes in the commune when he's on holidays or to study before exams.

Sadie (30): After losing her husband in a fire she tried to kill herself, thankfully Dutch and Arthur saw her and stopped her. They took her to the commune, she still suffer from depression but is starting to feel like living again. Spend a lot of her time with the animals. She used to live in the ranch her husband inherited.

Charles (28): When he was only a few years old he was separated from his mother, remembering very little of her and her heritage. He was given to his father who became an alcoholic as time passed. He visited a lot of tribe to try and find his heritage, when passing in the region of the commune he met Arthur and they talked for a while as Arthur guided him to the local tribe. He comes from time to time, stay for a while. It's like a second home.

Sean(24): tried to rob them in order to feed himself when Arthur caught him and brought him to Dutch the latter decided Sean could be forgiven by working around in the commune, he hasn't left since then.

Kieran (28): after an incident in the ranch he worked at, Kieran tried to find a new place to live. He first found a job with the O'Driscoll but didn't like it. He accidentally entered the commune and they thought he was a robber. After he explained his situation they let him go and he decided to stay there.

Pearson (38): he takes care of the general store but it isn't really a general store it's more like where everything is centered to make it more accessible to the rest of the commune. He arrived here after hearing about it in a nearby city, thought it might reminds him of his time in the navy.

Swanson (47): Pretty much like in the game Swanson went through a lot and lost his faith, Hosea and Dutch took pity of him and offered to help him find peace again in the commune. After he got better and decided to serve as the clergyman of the group.

Strauss (53): I think that the canon version still work quite well for him, I can see his family being Austrian immigrants in a big city and deciding he should live in a more rural place and that's how he ends up in the commune. He takes care of everything that falls under bookkeeping (be it money, materials or food)

Trelawny (41): doesn't actually live in the commune but he's a long time friend so he comes by often.

Jack (5): everyone's favorite boy, spent his two first years living with Abigail (who was kindly helped by Hosea and sometime Arthur) right now John and Abigail found an agreement and he spent half his time with Abi and the other half with John. They do some activities all together too.

There's probably lots of inaccuraty since I don't live in the US and like unless it's disrespectful I don't really care lol

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 5

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: domestic violence, physical abuse

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Daphne watched her patient across the table. He was bending over two flat boards, gouging out a shallow square in each of their centers with a chisel she'd borrowed from her youngest brother, Mikkos, claiming she needed it to fix a window. Mikkos, ever the dutiful sibling, had offered to fix the window for her, but she insisted she could do it herself, saying she didn't want to take him away from his regular carpenter work. It was such a bad lie that she feared Mikkos might turn up anyway, but it looked like he believed her.

Romulus was trying to make a wax tablet. It had all started the other day, when Daphne came back from her usual rounds in the village to find out her goat, Amalthea, had broken into the garden and was contentedly munching on some of the seedlings she'd just planted. Daphne had given Amalthea a stern talking-to and planned to raise the garden wall so the goats couldn't jump over it—she didn't have to worry about Midas, who was a good boy and knew the garden was off-limit—but what really worried her was that she didn't know what Amalthea had eaten exactly. Some of the medicinal plants were poisonous or at least harmful to a goat, and the poison could pass into Amalthea's milk, harming the kids as well.

"Don't you remember what you've planted?" Romulus asked, when he heard her scold Amalthea.

"Well—yes, usually," she stammered. "But I've been busy taking care of you so I wasn't paying attention." She ran an irritated hand through her hair. "Time like this, I wish I knew how to read, so I can label my plants and medicines."

Romulus stared at her. "You don't know how to read?"

Now it was her turn to stare at him. "Of course not. Around here, one doesn't need letters to be shepherds." The only person in the village who knew how to read and write was the chief, Master Kavos, and even then, only enough to write down thei villagers' names in the tax roll. Daphne had always wanted to learn, but she knew she shouldn't get ideas above herself. She had once been courted by a scribe in the nearby town of Adala, and when she suggested to him that she should like to learn to read, he had only laughed at her, thinking it was a joke.

Thankfully, Amalthea was none the worse for wear, but Daphne had a stressful day watching the goat for signs of poisoning or bloating. That evening, over their meal, Romulus suggested casually, "I can teach you to read, if you want."

"Why?" Daphne asked warily.

"It'll be something to do," he said with a careless shrug.

In the end, Daphne had agreed. She could see no harm in it, and she rather liked the idea of having neat rows of labeled jars and jugs, like the apothecary's shop in Adala she often visited. And Romulus was right, it would be something to do in the long hours when it was too hot to work outside. He was still pushing himself too hard with his exercises, and often Daphne had to remind him to go into the shades and rest or he would have a sunstroke. He struck her as a restless sort of person; no doubt he was tired of being cooped up inside. This would give them both something to fill their time.

So now he was making a wax tablet for their lessons. She could tell he was not used to woodworking, as he held the tool awkwardly and his chiseling was uneven, but he seemed determined to get it done. He frowned over the chisel, sweat dripping down his forehead, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. The expression contrasted with his usual scowl, giving him a rather childish look, and Daphne had to turn away to hide a grin.

She wondered why she kept him around for so long. It had been a month since she brought him back, half-dead, from the Balikh, and he had made a remarkable recovery. Perhaps not enough to walk all the way to Edessa, but certainly enough to leave on a cart or a wagon. Yet she kept putting off his departure, telling him—and herself—that something could happen to him on the road, that his wounds could open up again, that his fever could come back. She could never live with herself if she let her patient die from negligence. But other than professional pride, there was another reason she kept the soldier around, the same reason she'd saved him in the first place—for companionship.

In the years since she received the message that Galen was not coming back from Caledonia, and since she moved into the hut following her grandmother's death, Daphne had been on her own. Of course, the villagers were always around, but they never stayed for long. The only time Daphne had had a patient stay with her was when Ione, the little girl who lived on the next hill, broke her leg running down the hill after her father's goats. After Daphne had set the bone, the little girl had become so taken with Amalthea that she'd insisted on staying, and for the next three weeks, Daphne had had a rather chatty housemate who hobbled around, got underfoot, and made a mess of all her herbs and potions. Daphne had rather enjoyed it. Even now, whenever she had to leave the village for longer than a few days, she still entrusted the care of Amalthea and her kids to Ione.

It was hard being alone. It was the one thing that her grandmother, for all the wisdom she had imparted to Daphne, had failed to teach her. When she first moved into the hut, Daphne had thought she would enjoy it, after years of growing up with two younger brothers and never having a moment to herself. But the novelty had worn off quickly. Sometimes, on winter evenings, when dusk fell early over the hills, her own fire giving up little warmth, she would sit and watch the smoke from the huts down in the valley blend in with the gray clouds, feeling so lonely that she might even risk her father's wrath to come back to the village. But in the end, fear of her father always won out, and she remained in her hut, wondering how her grandmother had managed it all those years.

Now, it was a comfort to return to the hut after a long day to another person, who was waiting for her. It was a comfort to hear a voice other than her own and see another face across from the table during mealtimes. It was a comfort to fall asleep knowing there was another person just on the other side of the wall. A simple sort of comfort, perhaps, and it would not last, but she would take it for as long as she could.

One might say that an irascible, arrogant, and quarrelsome legionary did not make for a very good companion, but Daphne didn't mind. Had he been courteous and good-humored, had he asked for her help with politeness and accepted it gladly, it would have made her nervous, afraid that she would offend the noble patrician with her coarse peasant ways. His roughness put her at ease. It was simply that he, like most men, was used to having his every order followed and his every whim catered to. His undoubtedly high status only made it worse. She had had her fair share of men like him, men who insisted they were perfectly fine until the moment they tumbled over from pain. Patrician or plebeian, at the end of the day, they were all the same. She knew how to deal with them.

The only thing that bothered her was Romulus's reticence. After a month, she knew nothing about him except for his name, and that may not even be real. To all of her questions, he answered none and only gave questions of his own. He'd stopped making her taste his food and medicine, but she knew he still slept with his dagger under his pillow. Well, she couldn't blame him for being suspicious after having so narrowly escaped death. Who was she to judge anyway? She hadn't been exactly open with him either.

That day he walked around and got himself lost on the hillside, it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Galen. When she turned around and saw him sitting at the door with his back to her, dressed in Galen's old tunic, for a heart-stopping moment, she'd thought he was Galen. They had the same build, sturdy and broad-shouldered, the same dark curls and eyes. The difference was that Galen had been quick to jest and to laugh, while Romulus was always scowling. But for some reason, she felt shy about mentioning Galen to Romulus, and so she had kept those memories to herself.

After the boards had been chiseled out, Daphne melted some beeswax and poured it into the hollows, while Romulus fashioned two styli out of twigs, and the lessons began. Daphne took to it with an enthusiasm she didn't know she possessed, and soon learned to write her name, the names of her animals, and the common names of the medicinal plants in her garden. Romulus seemed to enjoy the lessons as well, and she often caught him watching her with a curious expression, without his usual wariness. When they tired of the writing and reading lessons, Romulus made another board, marked off a series of squares on it with his knife, and gathered a handful of pebbles from outside—half of them black and the other half white—and placed each of them on a square. It was a Roman game called latrunculi, or draughts, he said, and proceeded to teach Daphne to play. In this, she proved to be a quick learner as well. Once she'd grasped the rules, it only took her five games to beat Romulus. This brought on another scowl, while Daphne laughed at him for being a sore loser.

With such occupations, the long, hot days of early summer went by quickly. Romulus seemed calmer, though he remained wary, watchful of every little movement outside the hut. One afternoon, Daphne was coming in from the garden with some vegetables. She had just stepped through the door when an arm yanked her into a corner and a hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her half-formed scream. It took her a moment to realize it was Romulus, who was standing with his back against the wall. His eyes were enormous in the dimness of the hut, and sweat was pouring down his face. Daphne tried not to notice how tightly he was holding her, how his arm was circling her, pressing her back to his chest. He smelled of sweat and leather, and for a confused moment, she was reminded of evenings when she went to the edge of the pasture to meet Galen coming back with the goats. They had been courting then, though they had always known they would marry, so it wasn't as if Galen had to do anything to woo her. She would throw her arms around him and press her face into his neck, and he'd smelled just like this...

She twisted out of Romulus's arm and hissed through his fingers, "What in Hades are you doing?"

"Shh!" He held up his dagger, precariously close to her face. "There's a man coming up the path." His breath was hot against her ear.

"One of the villagers?"

"No. I've never seen him before. He looks shifty."

"Stop being so damned suspicious!" she snapped. "You haven't seen everybody from the village. Just go into the bedroom and let me see who it is."

Reluctantly, he lowered the knife and let her go. Once the bedroom door had closed behind him, Daphne picked up the vegetables that had fallen out of her basket and looked out the door to see who the mysterious visitor was.

Her stomach dropped. Staggering up the path was her father, Timon. His robe was disheveled—more disheveled than usual, his head bare, his face bruised. Each of his feet was having a very different idea of where it was going, and she could practically smell the wine on his breath from where she was.

Silently cursing, she went out to meet him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Chaire to you too," said Timon, sounding friendly for once. "You're looking well, daughter."

Her guard was instantly up. Whenever her father was being nice, it was because he wanted something. She eyed his bruises and had a pretty good guess what it was he was after. She asked anyway. "What do you want?"

"Can't I just visit and see how you're doing?" He sat down by the front door and looked up at her with bleary eyes. "Your mother misses you. When was the last time you came to see us?"

"I just saw Mother the other day," she said coldly. She wished he would just get on with it and leave.

Timon peered into the hut. Daphne followed his gaze warily, hoping Romulus hadn't left the wax tablet or the latrunculi board lying around. She knew her father would come down on her with all the wrath of Zeus if he found a man living with her. There were two cups on the table, but thankfully, Timon didn't seem to notice.

"Looks like you're doing well," he said. "Lots of patients, lots of coins..."

"What coin? When have you ever seen any coin around here?"

"I don't need much." And there it was. She knew it had to come out sooner or later. "Just a few coins to tie me over." Always the same. If she had saved all the coins she'd given her father "to tie him over" throughout the years, she would've been rich by now.

Daphne sighed. "How much do you owe?"

"Ten drachmae," said Timon. Daphne groaned inwardly. Ten drachmae was a large sum even by the standard of a sizeable town, where a man could subsist on half a drachma a day; here in their village, where they lived by bartering and some had never seen so much as an obol, it was practically a fortune. "Those snakes at the nomad camp tricked me!" her father snarled. "They said it was just one game, for fun, and before I knew it, they've taken everything I got! It wasn't my fault!"

"It's never your fault, is it?" Daphne snapped. "Mother and Mikkos work their fingers to the bone, and Attikos sends home everything he can, but it's never enough for you, because you insist on falling in with every low-life and criminal you come across!"

"You're one to talk!" Timon stood up, and Daphne had to turn her face away from his wine-sour breath. "You'd never have this place if it wasn't for me! And here you are, living in the lap of luxury, while your family starves!"

Daphne grimaced. Her father's drunken insults were nothing new, but they never stopped grating. He made it sound like she was dining on roast mutton and fresh fish every night. "Go home," she said. "I have nothing for you."

"We'll see about that!" said her father. He stormed into the hut and started going through her herbs and potions, searching for where she might have hidden some money. Jars clattered to the ground. They didn't break on the soft earthen floor, but their contents spilled out, leaves and roots scattering everywhere. Daphne trembled in terror, not of her father's wrath, but of him opening her bedroom. If he burst upon the knife-wielding Romulus, it would be catastrophic.

"Stop it!" she shouted, trying to shove him outside.

"Perhaps I ought to take your goats," Timon said, staggering out the door. "Or that donkey. They should fetch a pretty sum."

"No!" Daphne went cold all over. Knowing her father, her animals would end up at the butcher's right away. She grabbed the back of Timon's robe, and he went sprawling on the ground.

"Is this how you treat your father, you ungrateful whore?" he slurred, scrambling to his feet.

"I will treat you as a father when you start acting like a father!" she shot back.

This earned her a backhanded slap across her face. Timon was so drunk that it didn't hurt much, yet Daphne could feel hot blood dripping down her cheek. Putting her fingers up, she realized the slap had caused the cut on her cheek to open again. She glared at her father. This was routine for him. Once he failed to appeal to her sense of filial duty, he would resort to violence. It had always been the same way in their family, even when she was a child. When one of them didn't do what he wanted, he would hit their mother or one of the children until they submitted to his will. Her grandmother had been the only one standing between them and Timon's beating, and it was only after she took on her grandmother's mantle that Daphne found the strength to start standing up to him. In fact, Daphne was surprised her father had made the trip up here himself. Usually, he would force her mother to go in his stead, knowing Daphne could never refuse her mother anything. Perhaps this time he had realized, and rightly so, that her mother's bruised and battered face would only infuriate Daphne and get him nowhere.

Daphne pressed a corner of her stole to her cheek. If there had only been herself, she would have fought harder to drive her father away. But she wasn't alone. No doubt Romulus had heard their struggle. She had to get her father out of the hut before Romulus became even more agitated and did something foolish.

Going back inside, she gathered up some amphorae of wine that she'd just picked up from the village, a payment for curing a shepherd of his toothache. She dumped them into a basket and pressed the lot into her father's arms. "Here," she said. "It's the only thing I have that is worth something. Take it. Treat your gambling pals to a drink and maybe they'll give you an extension on your debt. Or you can drown in it for all I care."

Timon raised his hand again, but this time Daphne had foreseen his intention and ducked. Losing his balance, her father had to hold on to a boulder to keep from falling over. It took the fight out of him, and he took the basket from her with a brightening face.

"You're a good girl, Daphne," he said as if nothing had happened. "I know you'll take care of us." He reached out to pat her cheek. She flinched away. "Speaking of which, have you given Izkur's proposal another thought? He's very keen, you know."

"No," she said, trying to keep calm. "I've told you, I'm not going to marry again, and certainly not to that old lecher. Go home now. And try to stay out of trouble this time," she added, knowing it wouldn't happen.

Daphne watched until his stumbling figure disappeared down the path, before returning to the hut. She was cleaning the blood off her face when Romulus emerged from the bedroom, still holding his dagger.

"That was your father?" he asked.

She sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"You've never mentioned him."

"What's there to mention?" she said with a shrug. "He's the terror of the village. If it wasn't for my grandmother, our whole family would've been driven out of this place years ago because of him."

"Is that why you insist that I hide?"

"Yes. I would not have him accuse me of misconduct." She didn't say that the secrecy was for her father's protection as much as hers and Romulus's. Then suddenly she realized what she was implying by "misconduct", and her cheeks grew hot even as the pain from the cut subsided. Romulus didn't seem to notice.

"What did he mean when he said you wouldn't have this place if it wasn't for him?" he continued.

Daphne wrung out the bloody cloth and hung it up. "This was my grandmother's place," she explained. "She left it to me on her deathbed, even though I can't inherit. My father is her only son, so it should've gone to him. But I convinced him to let me stay here and continue my grandmother's work."

Romulus was quiet for a moment. "I have some money," he said. "You could've given it to him."

"I'll not touch your money!" She had seen the pouch on his belt since the first day and heard the clink of coins inside it, but had refused to even open it on principle. Then she added, in a softer voice, so he wouldn't think her ungrateful. "Besides, it wouldn't be enough. It would never be enough for my father."

Romulus looked at her strangely. She turned away, not wanting him to see the bruise forming on her cheek, and started gathering up the spilled jars.

"My father—" Romulus began.

Daphne turned back to him with interest, for this was the first time he had ever mentioned anything relating to his personal life. Only whatever it was he had to say seemed stuck in his throat. She waited, but he closed his mouth again. With a sigh, Daphne returned her attention to the jars.

Without another word, Romulus put the dagger away, got down on his knees, and helped her.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, as he handed her a jar.

Her smile seemed to startle him. And then, slowly, hesitantly, a corner of his mouth lifted in return. It was the first smile she'd ever seen from him, and brief though it was, it still lit up his face and wiped away his scowl. It made him look younger and friendlier, and Daphne no longer wondered why she kept him around.

Chapter 6

As you may know, in the "Gladiator II" script, there is a deleted line that reveals Geta and Caracalla's father was abusive. While this has no basis in history (same as much of the movie), it does align nicely with what I already had written about Daphne's own abusive father, so I had to add a little moment between Daphne and Geta as a nod to that. I'd like to think that Geta's childhood trauma made him more sympathetic toward Daphne, though he may not be ready to admit that yet.

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[lokisprettygirl]

Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Summary: In 1985, you were assigned as a custodian in the King's Landing Psychiatric inpatient and wellness center after your mother's passing. Your job was mundane and boring, but that was until a new patient arrived, a young man with a wild and eccentric personality, harbouring a secret that will change your life forever.

Warning: 18+, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking.

“Room 393 needs cleaning up, new guy is coming” you heard your supervisor Mona so you sighed and quickly nodded. Working as a custodian in a mental health facility wasn't ever really a dream job for you but you didn't have any option at the moment. Your mother had worked all her life for the center and when she passed, as per her request beforehand, the job was immediately offered to you, and you had debts to pay so you couldn't really deny that offer.

At thirty you didn't really see your life heading towards anything better anyways and you didn't really despise working here. Helping people feel good at times. Your job wasn't limited to cleaning services, you would often get assigned to patients who needed a caregiver for physical and emotional needs.

King's landing psychiatric inpatient and wellness center was a six floor building at the outskirts of London, it was established in 1955 and your mother had started her job the same year, it's been thirty years now and two years since she had passed, she was living nearby because she was married and had a child, you on other hand didn't want to travel back n forth so you chose to live here itself as a permanent live in staff of the wellness center.

You were accustomed to seeing patients coming in for various disorders, most were delusional at worst or suffered from some sort of dysphoria. However, the patients at the King's Landing Wellness Center were not usually considered dangerous and you had never felt threatened by any one of them except a few women who lashed out at you and pushed you around last year. But with time, you had learned to provide them with the care and attention they needed instead of judging them for the outburst.

“Are you listening y/n?” You snapped back to reality as Mona called your name and gathered your cleaning cart to go fix room 393, there was this girl that had just gotten released from the facility, Tanya, she was a shy, quiet girl in her mid twenties with a debilitating case of multiple personality disorder.

You mostly kept to yourself at the facility as you didn't want to get involved or too overly attached with the patients.

The moment you took the mattress off to deep clean the bed, you discovered a piece of paper underneath. Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to open it. Once you saw the writing on the paper, a feeling of unease coursed through your body, the words seemed almost ominous

“They are going to hurt me. I know, I'll never get out of here, if you find this please make sure to check up on me please”

You sighed before you folded the paper and placed it inside your apron quickly before it would get lost. What did she mean you wondered? The centre was under the supervision of three doctors. Doctor Vis was a man in his early forties and he was the most feared of all three because of his unorthodox methods of treatment but the other two doctors, Lisa and Darren seemed more approachable.

As you made your way out of room 393, you saw Doctor Vis standing in the hallway, having a conversation with another man. The other man stood with his back against the wall while Doctor Vis stood uncomfortably close to him, he was handcuffed so you assumed that he was being aggressive in his therapy session, as you walked past them you looked at the man briefly and normally you'd have looked away but this time you couldn't for some reason, he had a shiny silver hair that you had never really seen on a man before and it caught your eye immediately. The uniform he had on wasn't a surprise as it was a dress code for the patients, a white shirt and same coloured trousers.

His eyes met yours briefly and he smirked so you looked away immediately ,

“You didn't tell me you hired such beautiful chicks around here to be your servant-” Daemon had barely finished his sentence before Vis grabbed his collar to warn him. Vis looked as you walked past them and turned to make left into the hallway, disappearing out of their sight.

“Don't make this more difficult than it already is you moron”

Dr. Vis escorted Daemon into the room where he was immediately uncuffed. With the doctor now gone, Daemon let out an angry roar before throwing the chair into the room's window, shattering it into pieces.

“New guy is here” you mumbled as you reached the canteen. The rest of the staff members, including those from the pantry and cleaning services, were already gathered at the table. Shyla, who was the same age as you approached you. But in contrast to you, Shyla appeared to have a backup plan in mind after her tenure here.

“Oh god have you guys seen him, he's really hotttt in a really weird way”

You gulped as she said that, she always lived on the edge, it was unprofessional and unethical to talk about patients this way. Besides, he wasn't hot at all.

“Cut out with the heart eyes girl he must be a cuckoo to be here”

Another woman, Dina , intervened as she whispered very quietly, you didn't appreciate her language but then she wasn't wrong, sane people didn't come here.

“Hey y/n, new patient broke the window in 393, clean it up”

Mona suddenly entered the canteen so you sighed but then you were left feeling confused.

“How did he break it? Those windows are supposed to be unbreakable” you asked her curiously as the windows in the patient's room were specifically designed to withstand extreme conditions and were built to be unbreakable for security reasons.

“Don't question what's and how's, do your job girl” she glared at you so you picked up your cleaning cart again.

As you entered room 393, you spotted the new patient on the bed, seemingly engrossed in a book. Your brow furrowed as you took in the sight of the debris of shattered glass scattered around the room. Quickly, you grabbed a broom and began the cleaning process, starting from the corners to ensure that you picked up every last shard. As you swept, you couldn't help but feel puzzled as to how the window was broken in the first place,

“You shouldn't be doing such things, they are not afraid of sending violent patients to the lone ward” you mumbled so he looked up from his book and then glanced at you from top to bottom before he let out a snicker.

“Awnnn do you get paid to offer advice around here or cleaning is your only area of expertise?”

You glared at him as he said that but you remained calm, you couldn't raise your voice with patients even though you had been wanting to do it for a long while now.

“Sir im just-” you cringed internally as you addressed him as sir, it wasn't a norm but then you didn't really know his name yet. He had changed out of his uniform so you couldn't even read the name tag.

“Do your fucking job girl and get out”

You cut back on your words as he spoke rudely to you, perhaps he was admitted for extreme anger issues, whatever it was you just wanted to get out and not see him at least for a day.

You missed Tanya, she was a sweet girl, and you hadn't forgotten the note you had found under her bed this morning but then she wasn't exactly stable in her mind, people often scribbled down their most intrusive thoughts in their free time, and there was abundance of that around here. Besides you had bid her goodbye, she had hugged you warmly and she seemed happier for once.

During the lunch service you saw his smug face again as he sat down in the corner of the cafeteria, his eyes met with yours and he gave you a small smile but you didn't return it. Though you didn't want to take his words personally, he was dealing with something and that's why he was here.

“Mrs Rodriguez, are you finished with your food?” You asked the elderly lady so she snapped out of her thoughts and nodded but as you raised your hand forward to pick up her plate she grabbed your hand,

“Simon thinks i should eat less” she mumbled almost fearfully and your heart clenched for her, Simon was merely a figment of her imagination.

“Well he's wrong because you are eating as much as you should” she let go of your hand and smiled as you said that to her. When you reached around his table you noticed that he hadn't even touched his food,

“Are you going to eat sir? Your half an hour is almost over” you asked him so he chuckled. New patients in the center had strict rules and regulations to follow during the beginning of their treatment.

“Who should I be asking around here for a smoke?” He asked you and your brows furrowed.

“That's not allowed, i will help you with a nicotine patch if you're feeling restless -” he rolled his eyes as you said that.

“I don't need that shit” he grumbled under his breath so you looked at the time. Looking at him you couldn't really tell what actually was wrong with him, well besides the anger issues obviously, he seemed almost normal, almost self aware which really wasn't usual around this place.

“Please finish your food, dinner service is around 8 and a man of your size won't get any nutrition from the snacks we offer during tea time” you spoke a bit sternly and the corner of his mouth curved into a small smile.

“What's your name y/n?” He asked you so you looked at him baffled, he clearly read your name on the badge and he said it as well.

“I don't know your name either” you mumbled politely so he gave you a smile

“Daemon”

“Have an easy day Mr. Daemon, first few days are always difficult” you ultimately grabbed his plate as you left because he didn't seem to be in any mood to eat at the time.

Around evening as you finished your shift you made your way to your room at the fourth floor to take a shower and relax a bit. You took out the note you had found under Tanya's bed and placed it inside your cupboard safely, a part of you continued to feel uneasy about this thing, another was thinking about Daemon.

Why was he there? What had he done? You were not allowed to enquire about these things unless or until you were told the information by the authorities.

Daemon couldn't really sleep at night, how could he? He was locked up in here and was being treated as if he was crazy but he knew what he was and he wasn't delusional about it either. Even as sleep came for him he had a horrible nightmare that had him tossing and turning in his bed again so he woke up and stepped out of his room quietly as the room was starting to suffocate him. That's when he found the window at the end of the corridor and that was all he needed.

Around 2 at night, you were enjoying a peaceful moment to yourself on the terrace of the building, taking a break with a cigarette. As you were absorbed in your own thoughts, you heard a loud thud sound from behind you. Startled, you jumped and quickly turned around, only to find the new patient, Daemon, standing there. You couldn't believe how he had gotten there, he didn't have the key to the door and you clearly remembered locking it when you had gotten in. The terrace was strictly off-limits to patients for obvious reasons.

“What..are you doing here, you can't be here mister” you almost sounded frantic and kind of scared to be honest. And why didn't he have a shirt on? It was freaking cold out here. And why was he so freaking ripped?

“Hooking me up with a bloody nicotine patch when you got this sweet thing right here?” he asked you as he approached you so you took a few steps behind you until you had hit the ledge. You quickly threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it under your flip flops before he could attempt to steal it from you.

“Now that's a waste of a good cigarette” he almost seemed offended with his brows furrowed and scowl on his face.

“Look, don't come near me alright?” You warned him so he crossed his arms and stepped closer to you despite your warning.

“I'm not going to harm you, I can, don't get me wrong.. but I won't”

Was that supposed to make you feel better?

“Please come with me, let me take you to your room .. please”

As he heard your gentle voice his teeth gritted together. “Please just listen to me ..it's only best for you” You brought your arm forward to grab his forearm but you flinched away as soon as you had touched his skin.

“Are you sick? You're burning like a furnace” You asked him worriedly so he scratched his scalp before he looked around and took a deep breath “And how did you get here?”

“I'm not sick, do I look sick to you?” He asked you so you shook your head but that was pointless, if he was a regular smoker, perhaps he was feeling the withdrawal.

“Just one puff, I'll be indebted to you forever darling, please, what do you want me to do beg? I can beg on my knees .You want that?..”

“Ohhh shut up for god's sake -” You cut him off mid sentence as he started to ramble but the stupid smirk on his face was still there. “I'll lose my job Daemon -”

“Nobody will know”

“I can't do it.. please understand please..”

He sighed and the pleading look on your face made him willing to listen to you ultimately.

How did he even come up here? You had come via the main entrance and it was locked from inside. As you escorted him back to his room, you mumbled a quick good night but he suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you against the door, your heart was right into your mouth at the moment for several different reasons, you had been pushed over by several women at the facility but never a man, especially not a man like him who seemed so strong and so unstable. If worse comes to worse you knew you wouldn't be able to defend yourself.

“Daemon let go of me” you mumbled sternly but his hands were on your upper arms, holding you tightly still. He wasn't hurting you, not yet at least.

“Shhhhh shhh shhhh” as he whispered in your ear you were going to scream but nothing came out of your throat, not even a squeak, you feared that he was going to touch you inappropriately, if this wasn't inappropriate as it was, but then he placed his nose on the crook of your neck and took a sniff. Like a wild animal he sniffed you, literally.

One sniff, two sniff, and then one two three at once, you couldn't help but wonder why you weren't feeling as uncomfortable as you should have in a similar situation.

“What are you doing?” You asked him gently to not aggregate him so he looked you right in the eyes before he cupped your cheeks and stared at your lips, his nose rubbed slightly against yours before he closed his eyes, grunted a little and finally stepped away from you. His chest was heaving from breathlessness, same as yours as you both stared at each other for a moment. What the hell was that?

“Get out lady”

He mumbled so you immediately got the fuck out of there, you were looking behind every step of the way to see if he was following you but he wasn't. At the end of the corridor you stopped as suddenly, your feet came in contact with a piece of fabric on the floor, and when you bent down to investigate, you realized it was Daemon's shirt but it was completely shredded in several pieces - the same shirt he had worn this evening.

The realization left you feeling even more puzzled and disoriented. How had he managed to enter the terrace when it was locked from the outside. It seemed impossible. It was impossible. Or perhaps there was another way? Or maybe you were going crazy yourself? Now that was possible.

As your head hit your pillow you ran your fingers over your neck, right where he was sniffing, he seemed so...so primal in that moment, so animalistic, if that was the right choice of word. Did you atleast smell good? God you hoped so. Or not. He was a patient, you had to keep that in mind, he had issues.

The next morning while Daemon was away for his therapy session with the doctors you decided to clean up his room, he had left you feeling a bit unnerved last night with his strange behavior but you weren't really scared of him and then you wondered why you weren't scared of him after what he had done.

The iron bars on his window were the first thing you had noticed as you had entered the room. As you heard loud footsteps approaching the room you quickly collected your stuff to prepare to leave.

As Dr. Vis entered with Daemon he looked at you and spoke politely “Will you please step out ?” Vis asked you so you nodded immediately.

“Yes doctor, I'm almost done” you grabbed your cart and walked past them, your eyes met with Daemon and he seemed angry, but also really sad? His eyes were read and teary, such a contrast from his snarky demeanor yesterday.

As the door slammed shut, you found yourself in a state of morbid curiosity. So instead of minding your own business as you should have, you pressed your ear against the door instead, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside. Why did he look so sad?

“You had promised you wouldn't start with the absurdity right off the bat” Dr. Vis yelled at Daemon and that bothered you. Why was he yelling at a patient like this on his second day?

“Absurdity? You think me speaking of my true self is absurd?” Daemon asked the doctor and you didn't understand what was happening, what was he suffering from?

Dazed and confused as you reached the staff area Shyla walked around the table with a smirk on her face so you finally gave in.

“What?”

As you asked her she slammed her hands on the table in a dramatic manner.

“I found out why the new guy is here”

You weren't the one to gossip but you really wanted to know why Daemon was there? Why was he here? What was hurting him?

“How did you find out?” You asked her to seem disinterested as you didn't want to make your interest apparent.

“I have my source girl” she patted herself on shoulders so you crossed your arms together.

“Uhuh and what did your source tell you?”

“Well you're not ready for this-"

“Just spill it already” you chuckled as you spoke but the way she was stalling had only gotten you more curious.

“He thinks..now listen to this..he thinks he's a dragon” she mumbled excitedly so you stared at her all perplexed.

“What?”

“The new guy believes that he's a human dragon hybrid or something like that.. unbelievable right?”

Oh well!! That was a big problem huh.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

[reasonsforhope]

"A newly formed group of women is creating a map of community fridges and neighborhood pantries across Baltimore, the Bmore Community Fridge Network. 

"I am one of four women," said Elizabeth Miller, one of the network organizers. "We are career women, and we just want to see Baltimore do well."

They hope to highlight neighbors looking to serve others, hoping residents living nearby can get connected to the free food being offered to them. Miller said sometimes it can be hard for some residents to travel to local food pantries.

"Some people who are struggling with food insecurity have a lot going on, and it's really hard to get to a pantry on the days that they're open, on the days of the giveaway, navigating bus lines and bringing that food back home with them," Miller said. "Some people simply don't drive."

Miller said the group has connected with about four community fridges and has put them on the network map. However, the group plans to add more locations to the map. They will be at organizations already serving the community.

"...we will provide food for you."

"We provide resources, therapy, and outpatient services," said Nikki Smith, the CEO of The Journey Mental Health and Wellness.

"I don't care who you are, where you are," Smith said. "If you ring the doorbell and you're hungry, we will provide food for you."

The Bmore Community Fridge Network secured a donated refrigerator, which will sit outside of Smith's center, adding it to the community fridge map. Smith adds that other organizations are looking to chip in with donations to keep the fridge stocked.

"I'm hoping that everyone will pay it forward and they will understand that 'Hey wait, there's somebody here that's helping. Maybe I can help too," she said.

The Food Project will also receive a donated refrigerator, which will sit outside of their center.

"I think it's wonderful to have this additional access to food," said The Food Project Executive Director Michelle Suavo. "At the end of the day, we have a pop-up market three times a week, and it's still not enough...Throughout the night, there are so many people coming through that this is really going to help to service that additional need."

As the network grows, they are reminding families of the many neighbors across the city who truly care.

"There's no real rules about how much you can take," Miller said. "Take what you need. You never know what mouths are waiting at home."

Miller said the Bmore Community Fridge Network is trying to get more fridges and searching for more locations to house them.

She encourages everyone to donate to these community fridges by dropping off what you can to a fridge.

"It's spring," she said. "Go through your closet. Do you have canned goods or shelf-stable items that you can donate to one of these pantries? Do you have extra items in your freezer?"

Food insecurity in Baltimore

Maryland Food Bank data shows more than 90,000 city residents are food insecure. The Food Bank said 1 in 3 Marylanders face food insecurity.

The Baltimore Area Survey  (BAS) found 28% of Baltimore area residents experienced food insecurity in 2024, down from 36% in 2023. 

However, the survey showed the region's rate of food insecurity remained nearly twice as high as the national average.

If you or anyone you know are struggling with food insecurity, click here for an additional resource."

-via CBS News, March 28, 2025

[ahmadismaeel]

@90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @sayruq @nabulsi @neptunerings @flower-tea-fairies @appsa @a-shade-of-blue @sar-soor @moayesh @commissions4aid-international @paper-mario-wiki @dlxxv-vetted-donations @gaza-evacuation-funds @writerqueenofjewels @the-ballerina-battle @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @just-browsing1222 @girlinafairytale @khanger @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @maoistyuri @dykesbat @acepumpkinpatrick @thetownwecallhome @tsaricides @feluka @brutaliakhoa @kordeliiius @queerstudiesnatural @the-bastard-king @aria-ashryver @malcriada @vakarians-babe @bat-luun @mangocheesecakes @violetlyra @nightowlssleep @self-hating-zionist @staretes @friendshapedplant @yokohama-crackhouse @omiteo777

Hi! I'm Ahmad Ismail Alhabil, 24 years old. I have a family of 8 members. I'm from Gaza but I've got displaced so many times from Gaza to many cities in Gaza Strip.

Actually I've left my home in the first week of the war cos of bombardments in my neighborhood. I've gone to UNRWA health center as a shelter for a month. During this month I've lost my dear dad, he has got killed cos of nearby bombardment while he was shopping. I've become responsible for my family even though I've lost my work.

In brief, this ongoing war hasn't just taken our lives but it has taken our souls, our happiness, our safety, our peace of mind, our quiet great life, everything!!!

Nowadays I live in nightmares, hoping this ongoing war finishes. We have no water, no money, no electricity, no shelter, no home which has been destroyed, no healthy place, no source of money, no health care. The life became extremely hard!!!

We live very hard circumstances. Unfortunately, we live in an unhealthy place full of diseases. We live in a tent which doesn't protect us from sunshines. We have children in this tent who can't bear this very hot place. That's the terrible place we live in.

Every time I wake up from my dream, I suddenly find it hasn't finished yet.

So please donate helping us alleviate these very hard circumstances. Please donate to help our little children.

Your donation helps us.

[kimingyuslover]

SUNG HANBIN FIC RECS

boys like u! by @seosracha (smau, idol!au, fluff, drama)

synopsis- getting invited on an idol reality show where two groups have to live with each-other for a month seemed.. awful. but at least you got to bond with your long time crush and fellow leader over taking care of your own grown ass members?

only one by @juyomiao (smau, high school au, fluff, crack, some angst, is 'clueless idiots who dont realize their feelings are reciprocated' a genre ? i hope so)

☆ SYNOPSIS: sung hanbin is everyone's dream guy: perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect personality, he has it all. he's even class AND student council president! everyone loves him, and you, as his vice-president, are no exception to that. having been in love with him since you were 12, you try to tone down your feelings "for the sake of professionalism" and claim it's simple admiration for someone who objectively has no flaws. but there is one small detail you missed, in all these years admiring him: he has an even bigger crush on you.

cupid's arrow by @foryiujeans (fluff)

synopsis. a wall full of hearts and arrows written by mysterious cupids of ships around the school, what happens seeing your name with a certain someone?

unapproachable by @harunade (one sided enemies to lovers, only one bed trope)

falling in love with live by @taeraemisu (angst, grim reaper!hanbin, death x life, deaths, not sure if it should count but i read the book thief a couple of years ago and i am not so sure if you can consider this to be inspired by that)

synopsis ; grim reaper hanbin always appears at one’s last moment. that’s just who he is. he never wondered on how it’s like to be alive. but after certain few deaths in a row, he notices how the reader is always nearby, as if they are a sign of death too. curious, he starts to observe you. but what happens when he starts to wonder on how it feels to be alive?

can you hear me? by @taeraemisu (somewhat soulmates au, fluff but angst, different universes, the classic you-can-hear-your-soulmates-voice-in-your-head au)

synopsis ; in which reader thought they were crazy when they start to heart a certain voice in their head, finding out their soulmate is universes away from them.

blooming day by @zerobaseonefics (smau, college au, fluff, my broken sense of humor, mf who just wants to sell flower x mf who can't accept rejection to lovers ig.)

synopsis . . . never in his life hanbin would have expected to be rejected by anyone or anything. so, the day you rejected him with flowers, asking him to pay 12$ for the said rejection, he kind of lost it. alternatively, sung hanbin trying to make you fall in love with him after you broke his heart (and his perfect love record).

The follow-up assignment by @zellypop (fluff, romance, college, social media)

SYNOPSIS During a late-night rehearsal for the upcoming music club concert, Sung Hanbin twists his ankle and is rushed to the university health center. Intern nurse on duty Y/N breaks the bad news to him that his ankle is severely sprained. She advises him to rest up for a few weeks, however, things may not be so simple as the follow-up of his condition could become a graded assignment for Y/N.

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

I was exactly halfway into my second pregnancy, and up until that point, we were so ecstatic to be expecting again — a baby we’d been praying for. We kept talking about and imagining the joy it would be to bring our new baby home to meet our 2-year-old daughter. But at my 20-week ultrasound, a day that is supposed to be full of excitement and awe, we received devastating news. Our baby, a second daughter, had many severe and insurmountable skeletal and organ issues. Fetal specialists told us that it was extremely unlikely she could survive because all her major organ systems had significant development issues. We were blindsided and heartbroken, and yet somehow clear-minded. We chose to do what we believed was best for our unborn daughter as well as for our family; because that is what you do as parents. And we saw the choice we ultimately made as an act of love for her. We respect and honor that other parents have chosen — and will continue to choose — the only other option our doctor suggested to us — to let the pregnancy take its natural course and provide specialist or palliative care as needed. And that is the point. Individuals and their families — no matter where they happen to live — must be able to make the best choice for them. They need to be free to choose their own act of love. I believe now more than ever that anyone’s reason for seeking an abortion is valid. Who are we to say it isn’t? What we didn’t know when we made our decision was that in addition to being so difficult emotionally, it would be made so much worse by the abortion bans recently enacted in Idaho. Because of these cruel laws, my Idaho doctors could not provide me with an abortion — something they could easily have done before Roe v. Wade was overturned — in my own community supported by family and friends. We had to spend the following days cold-calling countless clinics in nearby states where abortion is still legal, but found out that because of all the other new abortion bans in states across the country, many clinics had closed, most had no open appointments for several weeks, and still others considered my pregnancy, at 20 weeks, too far along for me to receive care. The thought of waiting out this pregnancy, possibly for weeks, or however long, while trying to get through the day working as a chiropractor and still being active and present for our toddler was more than I could handle. All I could think about was whether the daughter I was carrying was already suffering; my anxiety and sadness were overwhelming. We both felt hopeless and heartbroken until we reached a Seattle clinic with a last-minute cancellation. Although relieved, there was so much we had to do to get there in the haze of our grief. There were flights to make, hotels to book, a car to rent and medical care our health insurance would not cover because we were going out of state to access and receive it. One of the most tragic — and degrading — parts of our situation was knowing that people in my home state of Idaho believe this is acceptable, denying me bodily autonomy. We will always be grateful to the clinic and team in Seattle for offering us professional, compassionate care. I am a person of faith and for months after my abortion, I kept telling Brandon there had to be something positive that would come out of this experience. Several months later, I learned that the Center for Reproductive Rights was putting together a challenge to Idaho’s abortion laws, and I knew immediately that moving forward as a plaintiff in the case was something I had to do. I’m proud to be one of the many women and doctors challenging and broadening these laws. Physicians in Idaho must have greater discretion over when abortion exceptions are warranted, and the decision should be the patient’s in consultation with their doctors.

[havenscribes]

Only Warriors - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Wakandan!Regent!Reader - Chapter Three

Word Count: 2260 words

Warnings: nothing really but crying and we got the exposition out the way yayy!!

Even after all these years, Wakanda’s skyline still takes my breath away. Moonlight colors the buildings and wells with a blue glow as the shadows lining every structure shift away from it. I lean my forehead down against the glass and heave out a deep breath. Sure, maybe I spend sixteen hours out of the day chasing after politicians and ambassadors, but it’s all worth it to make sure that home is protected from nosy government officials. The second we allow prying eyes into the country, well-meaning or not, they’ll try and control everything we have.

Flying above the city, I see elderly couples enjoying the night air from their porches, and the occasional cat slinking along in the night. The buildings blur together and get so small as we zoom across the water to the Panther statue jutting out of the mountain, its eyes glowing bright indigo as we slide into its maw.

Inside of the Great Mound there's grandeur like you've never seen. Dozens of valleys and ridges hold up metal mining structures and magnets, humming and buzzing so hard you feel your teeth chatter. The farther down you go, the more toxic the chemical levels are, and the more the cobalt lava shines through the rock, wrapping around the walls to the top of the mine. At the center of all this majesty is Shuri’s lab.  I half expect to see her in there tinkering around, and my face falls remembering just how deserted she is. What if she’s in danger? How will we know if Namor takes advantage of her humanity and fights dirty? Why couldn’t I stop him?

Before I know it, the settling of the aircraft shakes me out of my thoughts, rumbling a purr as it slows to a stop underneath the lab. Waiting in the hangar, Ayo walks in a straight line back and forth, shaking her head in dismay. As soon as the doors open, she snaps to attention and salutes me. Aneka sharpens her blades on a nearby table before whipping around to do the same, albeit a little more clumsily. Kena follows me as I drowsily lumber off the ship, and maybe I’m seeing things, but they share a warning look amongst each other as I pass through the doors. 

Before I do any serious business back in Wakanda, I have to be medically and mentally evaluated to maintain my health. It’s a little bit like a post-mission tradition, if post-mission traditions consisted of sitting on a cold metal table as Griot asks me about the food I had in each country. I guess I shouldn’t complain, he’s not the worst company a girl can have, and he doesn’t get offended when I ask him to be quiet. If anyone asks, I won’t admit it, but these evaluations bring me back to myself, in a way. They remind me that I’m not a robot who can work and move with extremely high efficiency all the time, and to cut myself a little bit of slack. 

This time, however, as I lay my head down on the examiner, Ayo and Kena snuck into the room. I jumped in my gown, almost exposing a less dignified area of my body.

“Bast. With all of that metal, you’d think I’d be able to hear when you all enter the room.”

Ayo chuckles smugly, as if scaring me half out of my body was a fun pastime for her. “If you could hear us enter the room, we wouldn’t be very good soldiers.”

“I suppose that’s true. Yes, you both are good, indeed. Maybe the best.” I add, kittenish and sweet, dusting off my gown and crossing my legs. Aneka rolls her eyes playfully at my attempt at brown nosing.

“You know the general has prohibited anyone from disclosing when the Black Panther will return. A little waiting might actually do you some good, Y/n. You never had any patience.”

“Well, why wait when I could just get things myself? And I’m not just a citizen, or some nosy royal who only cares about being in the loop. Shuri is my cousin, and I am the ambassador of Wakanda. The attack started with me. Why am I being kept in the dark?” Maybe I’m overstepping, but at the same time, I’m being disrespected. How dare they keep secrets from me as if I don’t work my ass off for my country every day?

“Please. You’re being so—so stubborn to think that you need to be privy to everything. As general, it’s my duty to make sure that all information is on a strictly need-to-know basis.”

“I need to know!” It comes out louder than I’d hoped, but so be it. There was no point in hiding my feelings in such a stressful position. “I am her right hand. She is my leader. And my family. Is that not enough for you?” 

“Remember your place, Y/n. Yes, you are a part of the royal family, but it doesn’t entitle you to all of the governmental knowledge at all times. There’s a reason why only one nuclear family rules all of Wakanda. Because the more people who are allowed into the important rooms, the more often betrayal happens. Learn from your elders, even if it means you’re excluded at times. We can’t afford for you to throw temper tantrums anymore.”

Suddenly, I feel a whole lot more exposed than when my ass was almost out. I look at the time, it’s 4:06 am. Too early to be called a child after my cousin was abducted. Too late for me to care if I’m being selfish. “Leave me, please.”

Ayo starts, not exactly repentant, but she softens this time. “Y/n, your safety is the utmost priority, you know this—”

“Get out! Please. I need to sleep this off.” I can’t meet her or Aneka’s eyes, and squeeze the examination table. Griot slides the door open for them, and before either moves, a beat passes. I know they know that I’m lying, I probably won’t get a wink of sleep without some powerful batch of herbs.

“As you wish.” 

They sneak off without a sound and I flop down onto my side, still feeling every bit as wired as I did before my speech. 

“Griot, continue.” 

Even though I tried my best to stay awake throughout the rest of the tests, Griot went into lullaby mode, and as soon as he put on ocean sounds and heated the table, I was out like a light.

***

The next morning, the sun shines through the window of my suite in the mountain, glaring in my eye. I’m still in my gown, but my bags and other belongings from the trip are in the room with me. It still looks like it did when we were younger and I’d beg Queen Ramonda for a sleepover every night. She’d put me and Shuri up in the room, one of us on the floor, the other in the bed alternating for fairness. Then we’d stay up till the ungodly hours watching foreign films and sharing our dreams of being something more than royalty.

Luckily, a knock on the door snaps me out of my thoughts. Aneka stands on the other side with a traditional staff in hand, and her body is styled like she could be attacked at any moment, but her eyes are so telling. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks me, hesitantly, like I might snap at her again. My face almost crumples, but I somehow manage a sad smile. 

“Okay. I’m not proud of how I acted last night.” I admit to her, pulling her by the arm into my suite. Never has it been a practice of mine to treat those who ‘rank’ lower than I badly, especially since each and every single Dora is my family. “You didn’t deserve that, Aneka. You or the general.”

“She understands. Last night couldn’t have been easy to process for you. The council has been abuzz all morning, trying to come up with a solution for you both.”

“Us both? I’m home, they shouldn't be wasting time on me when we have clearly bigger fish to fry.” We backtrack as I rush around the suite, looking for an outfit to wear. “I have to get down there, immediately. Do you have a jet?”

“Yes, and they’re already expecting you, so don’t be long.”

“Do you know what they need from me? I have to be in Belgium next week, so I can’t stay and plan with them much longer.” I hop into my jeans, looking around for the purse I had last night. Did it get back on the ship with me?

“Yes, apparently they’re requesting more security with you.” Aneka pulls a stool out from the island and sits down, folding her hands.

“Ah.”

*** The Citadel is abuzz as I walk in, accompanied by Aneka and Ayo, who still won’t speak to me outside of cordial hellos and business matters. In fact, there are more people in the hall than I’ve ever seen, skating around whispering and consulting the members. So much for preventing betrayal. Chief M’Baku sits on his very own hirsute throne, decorated with wooden apes and fur and other things, but shooes his advisors away when his eyes meet mine. 

He stands abruptly, and his entourage stands with him, starting that hooting nonsense to quiet the room. Once all attention is on him, he claps twice to be unnecessary, and sits down with a grunt. “The wanderer is here.”

I close my eyes with effort in order to not roll them, and pull a tight smile across my face. 

“Good to see you all, elders and officials. Thank you for your concern for my safety.” They murmur their agreements and as I shuffle to my seat, I can’t help but feel like something is very, very wrong. The first clue is that my favorite elder, M’Kathu, is not in attendance. In his place is his wife, a slender woman with short hair who scowls meanly at me almost always. Bast, be in my favor today, please. 

“Well, let us address the elephant in the room, ah? The wanderer is vulnerable, to no one’s surprise.” M’baku states, allowing no time for small talk. His flying monkeys hoot behind him.

I move to speak but Ayo puts her hand up quickly. “The security of our most talented ambassador and Queen is the responsibility of the Dora Milaje, and as we are wary of Namor, let it be known that we are in contact with the Queen. She is safe and supports our new efforts in the protection of the ambassador.” New efforts?

“For now. Queen Shuri is safe for now.” M’Baku gestures with his carrot, spewing chunks into the air. Disgusting.

“And what would these new efforts be? What would be enough to aid the Dora Milaje against the Feathered Serpent God?” Shouts Elder Zawavari skeptically.

Contact? “If I may interrupt, how did we get in contact with her?”

General Ayo gives me a look that says Shut up and wait. Everyone else wants to chime in now, and I can’t stop wondering: What did Shuri say? What does Namor want with her now?

“The Queen has enlisted another protector for the ambassador, one that is ruthless and intimidating. She has worked side by side with him and he has vowed to be of use in return for his own life, which Shuri saved as a girl. He has proved himself to be a formidable opponent to Namor, even when surprised.”

The council goes quiet in anticipation. Even I begin to soften at the idea of another protector, if he’s this talented, I definitely won’t be in danger. M‘Baku rises slowly from his chair, his expression darkening. “No. No outsiders. Especially no criminals.”

The General rises to meet his eye, and the Dora Milaje backs her up. “It’s not my decision, but it is the correct one. Sometimes we must look past transgressions to become stronger.”

“Absolutely not. This is a treasonous act and the Jabari Tribe will not allow it. M’Kathu wouldn’t either.” M’Baku booms across to the general. 

“You dare to challenge your queen?” Ayo asks with one raised eyebrow, already knowing the answer. Across them is tension so thick it weighs down our clothes, and I didn’t even notice the Doras’ calling, but it’s not helping the atmosphere. I wonder who could be so controversial to have half of the Tribal Council up in arms. M’Baku holds his tongue and puts his hands up in disappointment. The general nods, “I didn’t think so.”

The suspense is killing me. “So, who’ll be my bodyguard?”

Ayo smiles at me, almost impishly. “Y/n, until the Queen is returned and Namor is quelled, you’ll be escorted in all endeavors within and outside of Wakanda by James Buchanan Barnes.”

Fuck.

[amiaimpxct]

VENTURE.

*+.~ Jiaoqiu x reader

cw: angsty, some kind of comfort, spoilers for luofu quest idk

“Where is he…”

You’ve never felt this much rage, anger, or devastation before; your hands were balled into fists, nearly tearing out the sides of your clothes.

“He’s in the infirmary.”

You nod curly before heading off, eyes lowered as you sprint as fast as you can to the health center.

Usually, Jiaoqiu would be the one working at the health center, on a good day. Today was far from a good day.

You burst through the door, pushing past some of the nurses as you find the room that housed the pink foxian. You take deep breaths as you lock eyes with the well-known Healer Lady and Moze. They say no words as they part the way for you to enter.

“…Jiaoqiu…” You mutter under your breath, scanning over his still body, his breath uneven yet still present.

Numerous scars and cuts littered over his body, dried blood painting his torn shirt in blotches, while a white bandage was placed over his eyes, splotched with blood red.

You hold a hand to your chest, your heartbeat threatening to jump out of your body as you hover your other hand over his form, unable to move or take any action.

“…It will take a while for him to heal.” The young vidyhara states softly, turning around after setting a gourd of medicine on a nearby table.

Moze is silent, staring at a blank spot in the wall, as if he was replaying something in his mind, possibly wondering of an outcome where this wouldn’t happen.

You don’t ask questions. Later, you’d ask someone like Feixiao for the full story, but now, the only thing you needed was to know that he was alive.

“He’s… alive…” Is all you manage to say, a hollow pit in your stomach as you ghost your hand over Jiaoqiu’s.

“Barely,” Moze interjects, “He’s breathing, but he can barely maintain life.”

The room was silent afterwards, perhaps a moment of silence for lost things, feelings, words; that could never be explained. No matter how close you think you could feel, the distance felt further than the horizon, and a sense of crushing guilt had stamped its way across the room.

Alive… but at this cost.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what happened for the reddened bandages to be over his eyes. You felt your eyes water; to weep for him.

An expression he could no longer do.

Without warning, Jiaoqiu’s hand weakly reached out, bumping the back of his hand with yours. At the contact, he immediately clasps your hand with his, albeit without much strength, and keeps it there.

He recognized your touch.

Bailu’s eyes widened at the fact be was able to move, as she immediately got up to put a hand on his forehead.

“Temperature seems normal… no spike in heart rate, but there seems to be a bit of consciousness…” Bailu muses to herself quickly, ghosting her hands over Jiaoqiu, holding back a breath that everyone else in the room shared.

After her small checkup, she dashes to the corner of the room, picking up a bottle of some sort, giving it a small swirl before setting it closer to the patient.

She taps his cheek twice, softly, waiting for Jiaoqiu to respond.

Slowly but surely, he eases himself up with his arms. Moze rushes to stabilize him as Bailu grabs the medicine again.

“I’ll be feeding you medicine, okay Jiaoqiu? Please open your mouth.” Bailu states, a professional tone in her voice, much contrasting the worry and fear she held in her eyes and her tense demeanor, unscrewing the cap with a swift motion, bringing the edge of the container to Jiaoqiu’s lips.

To her surprise, he takes the container himself— albeit sloppily— and gulps it down. Bailu still watches him to make sure he downs the entire serving, but is shocked at his eagerness.

“My…” Jiaoqiu mutters as he finishes his dosage, giving the container to whoever was in front of him (Bailu). “I felt them…”

“It’s me. Jiaoqiu… I’m right here…” You whisper to him, a hand over his as you thumb over his skin with the utmost care.

He smiles, recognizing your voice.

“I’m here too,” Moze interjects, and Jiaoqiu turns his head to the direction of his voice.

“Don’t feel bad about not being able to save me, Moze. I know you’d say it was your fault, but he was powerful.” Jiaoqiu reassures him, before Moze even said an additional word.

“…It’s like you read my mind, Jiaoqiu.”

“I’ve known you for a while. Even if I can’t see you, I know you are the same.”

The room goes silent again, as if its occupants were mourning the loss of his sense of sight.

He would never be able to see his own cooking again.

Even Bailu felt the air tense, as the small vidyhara fidgeted with the container in her hands, unscrewing and re-screwing the container’s lid, a desperate attempt to release her stress.

She reached for a roll of gauze, noticing that the previous layer had most likely bled through.

“Please leave, visitors. I must change the gauze.” She said, still tense, unrolling the white masking while you and Moze slowly get up to leave.

You threw one last look at the two before you dropped the curtain on them; Jiaoqiu lying helplessly as the small nurse worked hard to remove his wrist bandages, her head bent down.