#Home Ventilation Problems

[newshuntermag]

Breathless At Home? Understanding Ventilation Problems

Do you ever feel like you can’t catch your breath when you’re at home? You may be experiencing ventilation problems, which can have a big impact on your health and comfort. In this article, we’ll discuss what causes ventilation problems, how to recognize the signs, and what steps you can take to improve the air quality in your home. What Causes Ventilation Problems? Ventilation problems occur��

[the-busy-ghost]

Constantly forget that the ceiling and windows are lower in the upstairs room, and think I finally know what people over six feet feel like

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

so: masking: good, unequivocally. please mask and please educate others on why they should mask to make the world safer for immune compromised people to participate in.

however: masking is not my policy focus and it shouldn't be yours, either. masking is a very good mitigation against droplet-born illnesses and a slightly less effective (but still very good) mitigation against airborne illnesses, but its place in the pyramid of mitigation demands is pretty low, for several reasons:

it's an individual mitigation, not a systemic one. the best mitigations to make public life more accessible affect everyone without distributing the majority of the effort among individuals (who may not be able to comply, may not have access to education on how to comply, or may be actively malicious).

it's a post-hoc mitigation, or to put it another way, it's a band-aid over the underlying problem. even if it was possible to enforce, universal masking still wouldn't address the underlying problem that it is dangerous for sick people and immune compromised people to be in the same public locations to begin with. this is a solvable problem! we have created the societal conditions for this problem!

here are my policy focuses:

upgraded air filtration and ventilation systems for all public buildings. appropriate ventilation should be just as bog-standard as appropriately clean running water. an indoor venue without a ventilation system capable of performing 5 complete air changes per hour should be like encountering a public restroom without any sinks or hand sanitizer stations whatsoever.

enforced paid sick leave for all employees until 3-5 days without symptoms. the vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through industry sectors where employees come into work while experiencing symptoms. a taco bell worker should never be making food while experiencing strep throat symptoms, even without a strep diagnosis.

enforced virtual schooling options for sick students. the other vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through schools. the proximity of so many kids and teenagers together indoors (with little to no proper ventilation and high levels of physical activity) means that if even one person comes to school sick, hundreds will be infected in the following few days. those students will most likely infect their parents as well. allowing students to complete all readings and coursework through sites like blackboard or compass while sick will cut down massively on disease transmission.

accessible testing for everyone. not just for COVID; if there's a test for any contagious illness capable of being performed outside of lab conditions, there should be a regulated option for performing that test at home (similar to COVID rapid tests). if a test can only be performed under lab conditions, there should be a government-subsidized program to provide free of charge testing to anyone who needs it, through urgent cares and pharmacies.

the last thing to note is that these things stack; upgraded ventilation systems in all public buildings mean that students and employees get sick less often to begin with, making it less burdensome for students and employees to be absent due to sickness, and making it more likely that sick individuals will choose to stay home themselves (since it's not so costly for them).

masking is great! keep masking! please use masking as a rhetorical "this is what we can do as individuals to make public life safer while we're pushing for drastic policy changes," and don't get complacent in either direction--don't assume that masking is all you need to do or an acceptable forever-solution, and equally, don't fall prey to thinking that pushing for policy change "makes up" for not masking in public. it's not a game with scores and sides; masking is a material thing you can do to help the individual people you interact with one by one, and policy changes are what's going to make the entirety of public life safer for all immune compromised people.

[holysmokesblog]

The Gray Reunion

Vi x reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Violence, mentions of illness, blood, slightly spicy kisses ;)

Summary: In the midst of the chaos, you struggle to help the people of the Lanes. The truth behind the disaster sparks a confrontation that will test your bonds

Note:English is not my first language, sorry

In the past few hours, your modest apartment had turned into chaos. At least a dozen people had knocked on your door seeking help, intoxicated by something you hadn’t seen in years.

They could barely fit into the small living room, which also served as your kitchen and bedroom, waiting for you to help them, coughing out toxic fumes. Everyone expected you, just as your father had done in the past, to help or offer a solution, but you were completely lost, fumbling with medical supplies that had been stored away for years.

"The gray," murmured an older woman who was holding her husband as he struggled to breathe.

"That’s impossible," you replied. "We haven’t had problems with that in years, the ventilation system..."

"Then there must be a leak," she interrupted, raising her voice before a violent cough cut her off. You watched as her hand was splattered with blood. She inhaled deeply before continuing, "I’ve been through this before, but we don’t have the years on us anymore. Your father treated it countless times. Doesn’t he have notes somewhere?"

You sighed in defeat. "I’ve lost most of Dad’s things over the years. All I have left is what you see." You placed the stethoscope on a child’s back to listen to his breathing. "There’s nothing I can do. We just have to wait for the lungs to clean themselves... and stay far from the leak."

A collective groan arose from the people packed into your small space. "And how are we supposed to do that? We live there! Where can we go?" Various complaints began to rise.

"I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t. We just have to wait until they repair the leak."

"They’re not going to fix it! It’s those damn enforcers! They’re killing us to get to Jinx!" Another wave of murmurs rippled through the room.

You tried to remain calm. Could that be true? Were the people above really capable of poisoning everyone just to catch Jinx? Those above had taken so much from you already that it seemed entirely plausible. But then an image came to mind—Violet. She was in Piltover now, and she would never let this happen, not to the place that had been her home for so many years and still was yours. Right?

You continued your work, trying to calm the rebellion brewing in your living room, tending to the most severe cases of nosebleeds and eye hemorrhages. But there wasn’t much more you could do. Around three in the morning, the last person finally left.

Exhausted, you collapsed onto your bed, utterly defeated. Chances were, all the patients you’d seen today would return tomorrow with new symptoms. It was impossible to recover from the gray while constantly exposed to it. You knew that if it was a crack, it would take years to fix. And if it was intentional, if they were hunting Jinx... that would also take time. There was no way they’d catch her.

A knock on the door kept you from falling completely asleep. You cursed under your breath—new patients. Your father’s voice echoed in your mind, reminding you how he wouldn’t rest until he’d helped the last person who needed him. You repeated the phrase to yourself before getting up to answer the door, only to be met with a great surprise.

Vi stood there, but the most shocking thing was her outfit. She was dressed as a full-fledged officer, an enforcer. You couldn’t suppress a gasp of utter disbelief. You had spent years of your life together; you knew her story as well as your own, and never would you have imagined the possibility of her wearing something like that—not even as a joke.

"I’m truly surprised," you murmured. She scoffed in irritation. You stepped aside to let her in, and she dropped her new, heavy gloves onto your floor. You bit your lip to keep from scolding her.

The past few days had been madness: Vi’s return, the search for Jinx, and your responsibilities trying to honor your father’s legacy had left you with barely a moment to breathe.

"Lots of patients?" she asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Too many," you replied, collapsing onto the bed again. She still stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "You can lie down if you want... Unless you’re scared of dirtying that pretty uniform." She let out a short laugh before lying down next to you.

"I’ve barely seen you since you came back... I don’t think I ever got to tell you how happy I am that you’re here... Despite everything."

"Yeah, I suppose the first hug you gave me said it all."

"I mean it, Vi," you said, turning to face her. "Everything got so hard, but now you’re here, and I feel like things will get better."

She smiled faintly. "Yeah, we just have to fix a few things, and everything will improve." She propped herself up to sit beside you. "You look really pretty," she added. "Those dark circles suit you."

You couldn’t help but laugh. For just a moment, all the bad things disappeared. It was just the two of you in your small apartment—no Jinx, no gray, no problems in the Lanes. Just you two. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. She froze for a moment.

"I thought you missed me," she teased.

"I did."

"That’s not a reunion kiss. This is." Without warning, she leaned over and kissed you deeply. You welcomed her eagerly—it was like a breath of fresh air, something rare where you’d grown up. The kisses grew more intense, and your hands wandered over her torso and back. Vi positioned herself on top of you, using her hand for support on your pillow. But she quickly pulled it back.

"What’s this?" she asked.

You looked to the side, confused, and saw a large bloodstain. You hadn’t even noticed it. You sighed. "I’m really sorry." You sat up slightly, but Vi didn’t move off you. You grabbed the pillow and threw it to the other side of the room. "It’s been such a complicated day with the ventilation cracks."

"Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not at my best, either."

"Doesn’t seem like it." You kissed her intensely again, and she adjusted immediately.

"When all this is over, we should go on a real date. Like dinner and all that cheesy stuff."

You laughed against her lips at her failed attempt at romance. "I just hope it’s soon."

"It will be," she declared confidently. "Once they catch Jinx, everything will get better, and life in the Lanes will change—just like Vander always wanted."

Vi’s hands slipped under your shirt as you shared another passionate kiss, but her words lingered in your mind.

"Wait, wait, no," you said, pushing her slightly so she moved off you.

"Oh, do you want to take control, doll?" she teased.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" She looked confused, so you pushed her again to sit beside you. "The gas? Was it you?"

Vi stayed silent, hesitant to answer.

"Is this some kind of joke? You’re poisoning us just to catch your sister?" you shouted, furious.

"Hey, hey, it’s not like that... I mean, yes, but not how you think."

"You bitch," you spat, jumping out of bed. "Do you even understand the damage you’ve caused?"

"Listen to me. We used the gray to clear the streets, to keep people safe," she tried to explain.

"Used? Who’s ‘we’? You and your new enforcer friends? Well, you didn’t protect anyone!" You exploded. "Do you have any idea how many people you hurt? At least fifty came here today!"

"She’s a murderer! She killed half the council, she—"

"She’s not a traitor," you cut her off sharply.

The room fell silent as you watched Vi clench her fists in anger. You’d struck a nerve.

"Did you really do this for her? Or did your new enforcer friend convince you?" you spat, unable to hide your disgust.

"Don’t call her that!" Vi’s hands grabbed the collar of your shirt, pushing you against the wall.

You stayed inches apart for what felt like ten seconds before she let go, though she didn’t step back. Her heavy breathing mixed with yours, and you could smell the perfume from her uniform—a scent impossible to find down here.

"Get out of my house," you whispered.

"You have to understand—"

"Get out!"

Vi sighed loudly, grabbed her heavy gloves from the floor, and walked to the door. You opened it for her, stepping aside. She crossed the threshold without meeting your gaze but stopped in the doorway.

"I hope your new friend is worth it." She didn’t turn around, just kept walking down the dark street, away from your home.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

What had you expected? Nothing had stayed the same over the years.

You locked the door before collapsing into bed. Tomorrow would be another hard day in the Lanes.

[satoshy12]

Arkham Baby Danny

Danny was sent to Arkham Asylum after being found de-aged by a group of private Ghost Hunters.

The G.I.W. was smart enough not to touch him. It was very bad PR and similar, and they would have more problems from the public and similar and all the organizations who would attack them.

But these Ghost Hunters didn't think much about it; they would just send the "Meta" to Arkham until he was old enough for a buyer. It's not like among the crazy it would be something bad; they take care of him. until the lab is ready to cut him open and sell him.

Well, someone should tell the hunters that while the inmates are crazy, even they knew something was wrong. The ghost hunters had no idea, as the staff put them in Arkham as inmates too. The poor four Ghost Hunters were hated by inmates and staff alike and didn't survive the first few days.

While that time Danny formed an unlikely alliance with the inmates and still was planning his escape. True the inmates didn't fully understand him, but Freeze liked to show the child ice sculpture and Bane and rest playing Poker with Danny.

The Arkham Asylum Guards like Aaron Cash had no idea what to do with the toddler and just waited for Batman and Gordon. If you have a problem, wait for Batman. He should know what to do with them.

Well as Batman came, Danny had escaped through the ventilation shaft. As Danny remembered he was kidnapped, he would miss this place and people but time to leave back to Amity Park. Danny was out of Arkham, time to find a way home. In this new city, how hard can it be.

[lotus-tower]

it is horrific what we’re allowing to happen to children right now. if covid causes cognitive dysfunction and decline in adult brains, what impact will it have on small brains that are still developing? many children who are too young to even be vaccinated are catching covid, as well as a whole host of other opportunistic infections. children can get, are getting, long covid. children aren’t sick often because it’s “normal” or “good” for them—they’re sick often because they’re more vulnerable than adults.

children have no choice but to be sent to schools where they get sick again and again. they don’t have the ability to distance themselves from their parents and establish boundaries, they’re entirely reliant on their carers. if their parents do not believe in covid prevention, they have no means to protect themselves. they don’t have the ability to consent to what is happening to their health.

schools are not just allowing children who are sick to attend class anyway, they’re borderline mandating it. schools as an institution care more about meaningless attendance records than about students’ wellbeing. the classroom is an environment where all factors incentivize students coming to school sick.

there are horrific accounts from parents about kids being sick 24/7, never having energy, struggling with schoolwork. there are horrific accounts from teachers about their young students being different these days, unable to handle the usual schoolwork, showing signs of that classic covid “brainfog.” i’ve seen evidence of schools making their tests and criteria much easier in order to maintain an acceptable pass rate instead of addressing the actual core problem in the slightest.

i often think about a comment i read once about how someone knew it was fucked when no change happened after sandy hook, when the US decided and enshrined the fact that children were acceptable sacrifices. this is how it feels. this isn’t just about the US though. children are getting reinfected with covid again and again worldwide. this is about the entire next generation.

they didn’t choose any of this. they have no power to stop this whatsoever. none of us consented to this, obviously, but children most of all. most of them don’t even have any idea what’s happening to them, and won’t for years.

there needs to be a push for schools to adopt better covid prevention measures, like better ventilation and air filtration. but even more crucial, and much more difficult, is to do away with the ideology at the core of how schools are designed. just like how workers deserve sick leave, children need to be able to stay home when sick. no jumping through hoops for a doctor’s note to be accepted, no strict time limit. schools obviously know that 1 student staying home sick is less disruptive than 20 students being sick and unable to do their schoolwork. they know the math, but they aren’t after efficiency. just like companies know that happier workers are more productive. that’s not the point. it’s more obvious than ever what is choking our societies to death on every level.

i’ve seen university unions who’ve won teachers the right to demand masking in their lessons, the right to have air filters installed in their classrooms. the same needs to happen for K12 schools, especially since young children can’t advocate for themselves. parents could theoretically wield a lot of influence as well—but let’s face it, most are uninterested in or actively hostile to the idea of better air for their children. efforts to combat this need to be organized, sustained, and coordinated.

imagine how current children will feel once they grow up and look back and realize that their health was compromised before they even learned to speak, that they were born into a sick world, that they were born to be sick, not inevitably but because people preferred things this way.

[tinydefector]

Rut Cycle- Jazz

Jazz x human

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

Rut cycle masterlist

Jazz masterlist

Warnings: Smut, Size difference, Alpha/Omega hinted, Heat/Ruts, creampie, Oral

Other info: I've got a vote going for who you guys want next but this is a full on Gen 1 ones hot series I'm making.

__________________

The whole autobot base is on high alert due to everyone's rut cycle hitting. The multiple meeting between the Autobots and Decepticons over a ceasefire truce for Rut cycles. Jazz's Engine lets out a churn of noises as he leans back against his berth, he had decided it was for the best he retire after the meetings, it meant he was less likely to have problems with the scent of the human allies that also roamed the Ark, most of the humans had been asked to go home for the next week and a bit but a few still hung around. 

The soft sound of knocking breaks Jazz out of his thoughts as he moves towards the door to see who it is. Jazz’s visor flickers as he sees his favourite little human standing at his doorstep with a cube of energon on a cart for him. They smile as they look up at him. “Boss bot said you'd be back here, thought I'd drop you off a cube and come hang out if you're up for it” they state while pushing it into his room. 

 Primus they weren't helping the situation despite how much they tried to assist the bots, how close they came To nearly being snatched up by starscream in their meeting early, he knew it was just the rut and how sweet their scent was to the bots but even he was getting close to his limits with how much he could handle before he eventually succumb to the old coding. 

He cycled a deep ventilation, savouring the sweet crystal high grade smell wafting from their form. It makes his sensors ache and his engine whine in need. “ thanks Lil’ Bit. Yer always lookin’ out fer us bots.” He hums as he leans down to grab the Energon Cube. Primus, they stirred circuitry like nothing ever had. 

“Reckon ya better skedaddle now, ‘fore things get outta hand round here. We’ll be right as rain once this wave passes... but it ain’t no place fer a little sweet thing like yerself,  while tension are High with the Cons.” Most of the Bots hadn't Told the humans the reason as to why they had been asked to leave, many believed it was because of the Decepticons, and the Autobots not wanting any harm to come to them, in truth that was only part of the reason, the other part was how their scent made the cybertronians Rut worse and many of them weren't willing to risk hurting any of their allies Due to it. Didn’t stop Jazz from wishing, though, just for a taste, but he knew it wouldn't stop at just a taste.

Slight worry crosses their face as they look up at Jazz.  "Robo flu?, you didn't get that static bug again, or that little critter the Cons made which caused so much issue in the base last time" They teasingly inquire as they press a hand to his plating as if to check him for a fever out of habit. 

a ragged vent of air leaves him at their touch, joints locking to steel against surging charge and wanting to grab them. Plating heated beneath their hand. His visor lit with barely-restrained longing as azure optics peered down at their concerned face. "Ain't no bug, cher," he lamented softly. "Jus' a bit of a... condition we bots get sometimes. Nuthin' t' worry yer pretty headplate 'bout." 

Gentle digits itched to trace the curve of their cheek, taste their skin against glossa sensors gone mad with need. But he'd offlined his hardsuit protocols, locking down his traitorous system until after they left the room. His frame grew hotter with each passing breem. 

"Ya best skedaddle now, sweetspark." His field pulsed bittersweet promise of a raincheck, "And leave you by your lonesome while Prowl's even more foul?, could keep you company and get you energon when you need it, plus don't need you having a short circuit while i'm gone, cant have my favourite DJ sick can i?" The sweet scent on their skin has Jazz nearly drooling as they offer to stay with him and keep him company. 

Jazz cycled a shuddering vent engine whining loudly in need, grip creaking upon his half-empty cube as lithe form crossed their arms as they moved to make themself comfortable on his berth that was now piled with Blankets, tarps, polish clothes. 

His systems flashing warning as the magnetic field begged surrender to baser instincts, he desperately wanted to interface or at least let off some steam before he lost his mind and control. "Gonna hafta refuse that favour, li'l sweet. Y'got no idea ... th' things ya do t'me right now." His digits flexed, aching to caress them, claim. He walks to the other side of the room as if an injured animal that's cornered.  

Optics linger over their temptin' outline, memorising every curve as if famine-struck. "Please, lil' spark. F'r both our sakes." His Field pulsed apologetically for cutting their visit short, but he couldn't risk them. They stand up on the berth as he walks around in circles. 

Worry lingers on their face as they try to calm him down. “Jazzie talk to me, you're walking around like a cornered animal and you're worrying me” they state as he stops in front of them, his frame stiff as he holds off one last attempt to let them leave before he does something he would regret. Jazz nearly purrs as they cup his face looking up at his visor. Their hands feel divine against his faceplate. 

 The last shred of Jazz's ironclad control sheared away as they ran their fingers across his faceplate holding his face as they stared into his optics as sparked couples would. Tender servo curls around their waist as he uses a digit to lift their chin as a rumble resonated from his cracked spark.  "So sweet t'care... but ya jus' don' understand, li'l sweetspark." Trembling digits traced the fragile line of their face, unable to withstand their pull any longer. 

A deep, subsonic field pulsed from his frame. “I think I've got enough of an idea” they state while pressing their lips to his. A thundering roar leaves his engine as he grabs hold of them pulling them up against his frame as his lips desperately move against theirs. Tasting the sweet yet sinful flavour that is their skin. 

 He cycled his systems,warnings flashing critical. but Primus, how he ached to finally seize what haunted his every fantasised line of code...They whined loudly against his lips, his name muttered between breaths.

All of Jazz's fraying restraint snapped like cheap cabling. A strangled keen tore from his vocalizer as delicate grip yanked them flush against Plating as he eagerly pressed them down against the berth. 

He seized their jaw in a trembling servo, glossa delving past yielding lips with a starved groan. They taste like ecstasy and Rust sticks. Another rumble left deep from his frame. 

His other servo scoured down their back in rapture, digits aching to rip through their clothing and discard it across the floor. "Cher..." he gasped against their mouth. Name spilled like prayer as his interface panel snapped open his spike snaking out, straining against their covered form. 

Whimpered moans leave them as his servos grip thier clothing, dragging it off their body as he throws it across the room, glossa tracing down their form as he eagerly laps against their skin. 

At their little nosies Jazz’s Optics flared, visor blazing, Trembling servos gentled spead their thighs, pressing gentle kisses along them before he bites down and sucks a mark into the skin. “H-hold on t’ me, li’l one,” he rasped out as his glossa traces along their sex “Jus’ hang on tight. Lemme take care’a ya...” 

Slowly, with far more grace than rationality warranted, Jazz began to rock his Glossa against their pulsing warmth with aching care. A loud groan and engine roar leaves him at the taste of them. His optics drank in every flicker of pleasure stealing across their face as the arch and rock against him.

 His spike aches and leaks against the bedding as he slowly works his little human open with his glossa, preping and readying them.  

Jazz burrowed his faceplate between their quivering legs, purrs interlacing pleasured moans dragging from his vocals. His servo curled beneath their legs, hitching them higher. "Primus, babydoll.. so perfect..." He gasped prayers and profanities, they arch and grip his helm as his glossa continues to drive into them. Their gasping cries, have his engine roaring louder.

He pulls away for a moment as he flips them lifting their hips up as he grinds his needy spike against their back, a guttural moan leaves him before he snarls, gripping their waist firmly. Jazz shuddered out a keening groan as he slowly presses his spike into them, stretching them to accommodate his size. 

so tight - so hot and sweet he feared offlining upon first plunge into their sweet little form, their scent driving him wild as his field lets out pulse of energy.  

He curled his servos around their fragile hips, grinding slowly into them, helm tilted back as he clenchs his denta from how tight of a fit it is. "Frag, yes!" he bellowed, slowly picking up pace as he drives into them. Their hands grip onto the blankets as needy moans and cries fall from their lips each time Jazz thrust back into them, grinding his spike into their Smaller form. 

" So beautiful, so perfect...mmm, my Lil mate..." He gasped brokenly, intake clenching.

His thrusts turned feral, spike swelling. He dragged their joined frames up. Holding them to his frame as he goes into frenzy, slamming brutally home again and again.

"Mine," Jazz snarled ferally. "Gonna overload ya so fraggin' good, li'l cher..."

Another savage buck of his hips sent them keening, body pulsing and bucking as they cry out from pleasure. “Jazz oh God!, Jazz!” They claw at his plating desperately trying to grab hold of his arm as he drives into them as feral snarls leave him. A guttural groan echoed from Jazz's intake as their clamp and fluttered wildly around his spike, 

"Frag, li'l bit-, that it, mmm so good" he moans, His spike throbbed mercilessly within their small channel, Another ragged groan was wrenched from depths of his frame as their orgasm hits, his name falling from their lips as if it were a prayer.

He tenses, another guttural moan leaves him and he presses them back down onto the berth, frantically griding into thier tight body. spike pulsing frantically. With a static-laced keen, Jazz finally tumbled over the edge, filling their much smaller body to the brim with bright pink transfluid. Jazz threw back his head with a roar as their tiny frame rolled back to meet each piston in desperation as he pumps more and more into their needy hole. "Frag, yes sweetspark - take it, take m'transfluid, take it all!" 

He rolled deftly within, overload ripped through wiring in a cascade. Transfluid spurted from them as it rolls down their  thighs onto the berth as Jazz holds them close, smaller whines leavign his intake as he grinds into their shuttering body.  

With one finally thust he settles, fan systems on full blast as his frame desperately tries to cool down as he rolls to his side, cradling their body against his, holding them close, his other servo piles the blankets around their exhausted body as he keeps them plugged with his spike. Little whimpered whines leave them as he leans his helm down to press a gentle kiss to their forhead. His systems are slow to reboot, but one thing was for certain,  he wasn't finished with them and he would be damned to the pits if he let them leave his berth until after everyone's rut had subsided. “don't move Babydoll, ain't done with ya yet” he mumbles voice still static laced as his optics shutter behind his visor. 

___________

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[cod-dump]

If Price retired he would open his curtains one morning and see Soap (Captain MacTavish now) with his face plastered on the window sobbing.

Soap: How did you do it?! How did you control us?!  How do I get Ghost to stop stabbing walls when he loses something? How do I make Gaz stop hiding my journals? HOW DO I GET ROACH OUT OF THE VENTILATION DUCTS?! Price, sipping his coffee: Not my problem. *closes curtains* Soap: Wait I didn’t ask how to get Ghost to stop sneaking into your house and planting glitter bombs! Price: Glitter bo- Graves, from somewhere else in the house: YOUR CHILDREN ARE DEAD JOHN Nikolai: *ugly laughing in another room as Graves scream-swears*

Retirement was supposed to be peaceful.

He was supposed to settled down with Nik and Graves, work on his property, and do retirement related hobbies. Price doesn’t even know any hobbies he could start because he didn’t think he would get this! But Soap keeps calling him. He’s handling the promotion worse than how Price is handling retirement.

He asks two dozen questions each time he calls, each call almost always ending with him near crying and asking Price to come back just for a day to show him how to do things. He’s even showed up a couple times at Price’s property, unannounced and almost getting taken out by a either very surprised Nik or by Graves who shoots first and asks questions later when it comes to strangers showing up at his property in the middle of the night. Soap’s lucky he’s still alive!

Tonight, something is moving downstairs. Nik heard it first and soon all three men were out of bed and ready to take out whoever was in their home… then they heard Soap’s hushed voice and the three groaned in unison.

“John, get your man out of here before I shoot him!”

Graves doesn’t make threats, so Price assured his husbands he would deal with it before heading downstairs. He made his presence known, turning on the light with a sigh before looking for Soap. Oh, he’s hiding now. Great.

“Johnny, get your ass out here.”

Soap slowly raised from behind the couch, looking sheepish. Price just stared at him before looking at the clock. Way too fucking early for whatever this was.

“Johnny-“

“I wasn’t trying to wake you guys! I just wanted to get them and leave!”

Price felt his heart drop, “What?”

“Uh-“

“Who is here, Soap!?”

Price almost lost his fucking mind when he saw Ghost and Roach in the kitchen. Roach was stealing food while Ghost looked to be rigging something up in the pantry. Both froze when they saw Price and Soap in the doorway.

“Hey, cap! And captain… Heh,” Roach was putting food back into the fridge as Price stared at him.

Soap just stormed over to Ghost, “What the fuck is this!?”

“A… gift.”

“Take it back, I don’t want it,” Price muttered while continuing to stare at Roach. He wasn’t letting this shit take any of their food, Nik would lose it.

Ghost grumbled and started carefully removing wires and a box from the pantry. Price didn’t want to know what it was, he just wanted it out of his house and away from his husbands. They were both already pissy about Soap’s constant pestering, he didn’t want to know how they would react to whatever shit Ghost was planning.

“I’m going to get a restraining order on all three of you, I fucking swear.”

“Hey, what about Gaz?”

“GAZ ISN’T HERE!”

“Uh, yes he is! He’s in the car!”

Price had to take a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he willed himself to not beat any of his former team’s ass.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Yes, captain.”

So much for retirement.

[ms-demeanor]

Okay but also putting the panic aside part of what is going on here is that I'm feeling stressed because I'm feeling helpless; I could be cleaning right now but I am at work so it's just a thing that's sitting there hovering over me and filling me with anxiety so ignoring the specifics of my weird timing and odd mess situation, here's the "So You're a Disaster Guide to Preparing Your Home for Guests"

Here are the things you should be able to offer your overnight guests:

A clean and comfortable place to sleep with clean sheets, pillows, and blankets.

A clean and sanitary bathroom with towels (and, optionally, toiletries)

Depending on the space you've got, a comfortable place to spend time outside of the area they will be sleeping in (this may also be your primary socializing or relaxing space)

Access to clean dishes and a source for (at the very least) water (and possibly snacks/drinks/meals depending on the length of the stay and your relationship to your guests).

Here's a quick guide to providing those things in the shortest amount of time possible based on order of importance.

Make sure that you've got clean bedclothes and towels for your guest; if you do not have these things immediately at hand your first priority is doing a load of laundry to get clean towels, sheets, and blankets for your guest [and wash bath mats if necessary].

Tidy the area they will be sleeping in by clearing away clutter. Your goal is to achieve an unobstructed sleeping surface (so if they're sleeping on a fold-out couch or a futon in a shared space make sure that it will require minimal effort to turn into a bed when they are ready to sleep; if they are sleeping on an air mattress move any furniture blocking the mattress out of the way and inflate the mattress then make the bed; if they are in a guest room make sure that anything stored on or near the bed is cleared away then make up the bed). Provide a space for your guest to put any travel bags and provide a place near their sleeping area for them to put their phone/medications/glass of water/etc. that they may need in the night. [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time. If you have lots of time, completely sweep or vacuum the floor of your guest's space, dust the room, and ensure that there is a power strip or phone charger handy for your guest]

Make sure the bathroom they will be using is clean and functional (it's actually a tossup for me about whether you clean the bathroom or the sleeping area first; I'm less willing to clean a bathroom while guests are present than a sleeping area so I'd say bathroom first honestly). My recommendation for this is to do things in the following order (make sure the space is well ventilated): - Spray a cleaning solution in the tub or shower, focusing on any problem areas. - Let that sit while you spray the same cleaning solution in the sink. - Let that sit while you use a brush and your preferred toilet cleaning solution to scrub the toilet bowl. - Use a brush or sponge to scrub the shower/tub then rinse the shower/tub. - Use a brush or sponge to scrub the sink then rinse the sink. - Use a cloth with a cleaning solution or a cleaning wipe to clean the exterior of the toilet - Use a cloth to wipe down any surfaces like the countertop - Place fresh hand towels in the bathroom - Sweep and spot-mop the floor then empty the trashcan and spot clean the mirror tada clean bathroom [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time; if you have lots of time do a full mop of the bathroom floor, clean the mirror, and dust any surfaces that need it]

Clean the kitchen in the following order: - Put away any clean dishes - Clear countertops of clutter - Wash any dirty dishes or load them into the dishwasher so that the sink is clear and rinse the sink - Use a cloth with a cleaning solution or cleaning wipes to wipe down countertops, dust appliances, and do a quick wipe-down of the range. - Place fresh hand towels in the kitchen - Sweep the floor and empty the trash [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time, if you have lots of time mop the floor, do a deep clean of countertops, clean and sanitize the sink, check whether your refrigerator needs to be cleared of aging food or have any spills cleaned up, clean the kitchen range, and clean the oven door]

Prepare a living room for your guests in the following order: - Make sure there are clear seats available for at least every adult who will be in the household; pick up and put away crafts, toys, or projects that may be in the way of visitors. - Clear the surfaces of tables next to any seating options so that a seated person could easily set down a drink; consider placing coasters on each of these surfaces so they are handy if someone wants one. - Sweep or vacuum the floor as needed. [This is where you stop and move on unless you have lots of time; if you have lots of time consider vacuuming the creases of furniture, dusting shelves and surfaces in the room, and possibly cleaning the windows.]

My approach to this is basically "if you were picking someone up from the airport at midnight and bringing them back to your home, would they be able to get ready for bed and comfortably go to sleep right away?" which is why things are prioritized the way they are. Things would be different if I were cleaning in preparation for a party or if I were having people over for dinner, this is just the 'clean a house after you get off work and before you get in the car to go to LAX' list.

[torasplanet]

❝𝙄 𝘽𝙀 𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆𝙄𝙉 𝘼𝙏 𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙆𝙄𝙉' 𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙄 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙃𝙀𝙍.ᐟ❞

H. RINDOU + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; rindou never thought he loved you despite what everyone said but when he saw you drinking and talking with fucking nahoya kawata, he can't help but be upset.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, maybe a little angsty or sappy, slight degradation, public sex, alley sex, drinking, clubs, reader standing on business!!, manwhore!nahoya, toxic relationship, rindou being a bitch, toxic!rindou, slightly toxic!reader, bonten au but like combined with the 14th timeline (with straight hair smiley), yes i did write this because i heard this song, petnames (baby, babygirl, rinnie, etc), guns, rindou shooting a guy bc of yalls public indecency, he says i love u for the first time, uneditedd, rinnie makes no sense at all, skin color not mentioned

‘I love you’

Three words that rindou has never said, to you at least.

He never thought he’d say it because he didn’t think it was true, he didn’t love you. He would kiss you, hug you, treat you well and he enjoyed your company but he’d never think he actually loved you outside of your body and how good of a fuck you were and maybe your personality too but Ran would disagree. 

Ran always said that hook-ups and friends with benefits existed for a reason and if that was true, and that Rindou didn’t have to ask you out and share an apartment with you. The younger haitani would always just brush it off telling him that he didn’t understand but, to be honest, Rindou didn’t really understand it either.

He never had the desire to tell you he loved you and he never really thought that he did but rindou did everything with you that any normal person would do with your significant other, he bought you stuff, very expensive stuff I might add, you two had sex, you two went on dates, he’d cuddle if you wanted to and many other things but every time you’d tell him that you loved him, it was always hum or a grunt in response but never those three words you’ve wanted to hear since the start of your relationship.

And of course, you noticed, you noticed really early actually but constantly brushed it off as him being too nervous or too scared. After all, he and his brother had no one but each other when they were younger and their parents weren’t really in the picture so telling someone that you love them must be hard so you stopped worrying too much about it but after a couple of months, you started to get really upset…he didn’t love you and it didn’t take you multiple people to tell you that, only one. Ran told you, he said that Rindou said he didn’t love you but he highly doubted that but you didn’t care what Ran thought. Rindou said he didn’t love you and that was enough to break your heart.

You cried almost every day when he wasn’t home with your tears and drool dampening your pillows and sheets as you hyper-ventilated and when Rindou was home, you’d just go and cry in the shower probably harder than you did when he wasn’t there.

Although, eventually you stopped being a little bitch and grew up. If he didn’t care about you, you weren’t going to care about him or his feelings and started to do what you wanted, ignoring him, not cuddling, not doing anything you two would normally do and this obviously caused problems between you and him leading to lots and lots of arguments that always ended with either you walking out of the house and him following you telling you to get your ass back inside while firing a gun at where you were stepping to prevent you from walking further or you lying in the bed on his chest after make-up sex and either way you’d still end up crying because you kept falling for his false apologies and going back to him instead of leaving.

That still didn’t stop you from doing whatever the fuck you wanted though because you were always reminded of that he didn’t care so you still didn’t care. No, you didn’t care about how he felt about your short dresses when you went out, no you didn’t care when you’d walk away from him in a club instead of staying. You certainly did not give a fuck about him sitting mere inches away from you while you talked with Nahoya who you knew he fucking hated. But you weren’t doing it to spite him, you were doing it because it’s what you wanted to do and someone who couldn’t even say he loved you wasn’t controlling your actions anymore.

“Bad girl, flirting with me right in front of your boyfriend,” Nahoya said with his usual smile while his arm snuck around your waist with his hand resting right above your ass while your handheld onto his bicep “Don’t talk about him right now, he got on my nerves before we left.” You muttered getting closer to him with a smile creeping onto your face, Rindou had yelled at you nearly putting a whole into the wall because he didn’t like your dress and how short it was but you stood your ground, it was an Embroidered Tulle Illusione short dress from Valentino and you thought it was extremely cute even though with a small bend of your body your panties and ass would be on full display.

You found it idiotic how he was so mad at you for wearing something that he bought, the dress was around 13,900 USD and it hadn’t even been released yet so he had to pay extra to get it for you and now he didn’t want you to wear it? Did he just want to make you miserable? “That’s why you want me huh?” The peach-haired man questioned with a tilt of his head as you let out a giggle with his hand drifting down to cup your ass, rindou watched this entire scene play right in front of his eyes from his spot on a sofa next to his brother and sanzu while a stripper tried to flirt with him with her hand on his chest.

His grip on his glass cup tightened and it felt like he was close to shattering the cup as he glared at the two of you “You can’t even get mad at her.” Sanzu said smiling at his friend’s scowl “Yes the fuck I can.” He couldn’t. He was the one who always denied loving her yet when describing her to anyone, he’d sound so in love “Yeah she’s real pretty, funny too. Sweet girl with an even sweeter ass and fuck, I love her tits.” Sanzu laughed at this any time he could, how could you say that you only love her for her body when you start with how pretty she is and her personality before you even get to her body? Rindou was probably the stupidest man alive and Sanzu had not dropped dead yet.

“No the fuck you can’t. You yelled at her from the house to the car and expected her to not wanna get back at you?” Ran chuckled as he sipped from his wine glass with an evil grin on his face matching the pink-haired man’s “Shit, I don’t even think she doing it to get back at him. Babygirl look like she enjoying the shit outta herself.” Sanzu laughed as all three of them watched as you cuddled up to Nahoya, that stupid fucking nickname Sanzu and ran gave you pissed Rindou the fuck off but you all up on that curly-haired fuck made him even more pissed off than he was before Sanzu even said that.

Were you really that mad at him that’d you go over there and practically fuck that whore of a man? Rindou kept himself seated but his eyes didn’t leave your form for a second, he wasn’t going to get up and cause a scene for nothing because you knew better. But at the sight of Nahoya’s hand drifting up your short dress and onto your ass while showing your lace panties that he had bought you and his hand cupping your ass, rindou knew that apparently, you didn’t know better.

He threw back what was left of his drink before tossing the cup against a random wall and hearing it shatter as he pushed the prostitute off him. He stomped toward you grabbing you by your arm making you drop your glass onto the floor breaking it and spilling the Hennessy all over your feet heels “Fuck are you doing!?” You yelled as you tried to pull away from him but his grip on your arm was tight as he dragged you out of the club not caring about you stumbling over your feet because of his pace and your resistance “I should be asking you that.” The purple and blue-haired man grumbled as he pulled you out of the doors of the club and onto the sidewalk into the night.

“Was just talking! Let go of me!” You shouted as he pushed you against the brick wall of a building after dragging you into a nearby alley, he did what you asked but stopped all of your attempts to leave “Yeah so now whoever you talk to gets to put his hand all on your ass practically fucking you in front of everyone!” Rindou yelled into your face as he got closer to you feeling his breath on your face as he yelled but you didn’t flinch and just looked back at him with a frown “Like you give a shit, thought you only were with me ‘cause I’m a ‘good fuck’?” You replied pushing him away from you as you stood up straight getting your back off the wall as he continued to glare hatefully at you. “Yeah, and you’re still mine.” His words were confusing you, he was glaring at you with so much hate and disdain in his eyes but then again, it looked like he cared and his words showed that too.

Rindou got closer to you again as you pondered what to say “Smiley would fuck me better anyway.” You replied nearly spitting into the taller man’s face but he did nothing but crack a grin and laugh at you “Now you’re just trying to be mean. Sure he’ll probably do good but I doubt he’ll be better, I know all your spots and he couldn’t even find them if you pointed them out.” Rindou teased as he poked your side a bit making you jerk your body away from his hand earning a giggle from him at your sudden jumping “He’d love me.” Rindou felt his heart crack a bit at your words, you really thought Nahoya would love you?

Manwhore, player, slut nahoya? The one known to be a cheater? Had he really hurt you that bad that you thought that Nahoya would love you more than he did? He loved you. He may have just figured it out in this second but he did and he thought you were fucking crazy if you thought that serial cheater would actually want more than your body. It was crazy how he figured out he truly loved you because of your pettiness. “I love you.” Rindou replied after a few seconds of silence his eyes a bit softer but your glare stayed with a scoff accompanying it “You really think I’m gonna believe that shit? After everything you’ve done to me?” That’s what you always said when you two argued. Rindou never said ‘I love you’ during these arguments but you somehow always managed to bring up all the shit that he’s done to you and how you’ll never forgive him but you always do.

Tonight you don’t think you would though. He’s now telling you that he loves you? When he’s jealous and has been yelling at you with his alcohol-laced breath that matched yours. How dare he try and use that shit against you to make you stop talking to Nahoya, that’s low even for him and the idea that he might actually be telling the truth (which he was) never crossed your mind, he’s never said those words before so why would he now?

Rindou’s hands were now planted on the wall caging you in between his arms giving you no way out of this conversation “I expect you to know that he won’t love you. You know just as well as everyone else that he’s fucking a new girl practically every two days and you can either be one of those girls or be the girlfriend who’s sleeping alone in bed because he’s fucking some other bitch. Either way, he won't give two shits about you.” His words were harsh as his lilac eyes narrowed at you glowing in the dim fluorescent light of the old and nearly broken lights that were on the building he had you pressed up against, your manicured fingers gently pulled at the end of your dress attempting to pull it down lower to cover the heat growing in between your legs as you rubbed your thighs together. Rindou hadn’t noticed it yet and you didn’t want him to. You were still mad at him. “I’d rather that than be with someone who can’t even tell me they love me.” You spat continuing to look up at him with your brows furrowed in anger and your lips turned into a frown.

A grin returned to the haitani male’s face “You’d rather be cheated on than be with me? Wow, you really are a petty bitch. Or maybe you’re just a whore.” He said rather loudly making you embarrassed as you glanced away from him for a second, this situation started with you doing whatever you wanted but now, you were just saying shit to piss him off more, and for a second, it was working but now, he just didn’t care because he knew how stupid you sounded and was making you realize that too with his mocking laughs “Don’t call me that.” You managed to sputter out from your embarrassment as he continued to laugh and smile at you as if you were the main punchline of a joke, one of Rindou’s ring-clad hands went to your face and held your jaw his sweet smell of caramel mixed with alcohol filling your nose as he looked at you with pure amusement in his purple irises “Why? That's what you are, aren’t you?” He replied tilting his head slightly with his eyes drifting down to your thighs that were still rubbing against each other before making eye contact with you again.

He really was making fun of you and now that he knew of the rubbing of your thighs he’d keep doing it if this argument continued. You stayed silent and didn’t reply to his question and looked down telling him that he had won the argument as you were too embarrassed to say anything else and that if you had anything else to say to him, you were turned on, embarrassed and a bit drunk so you just accepted your defeat not wanting this to turn into another argument that ended in you started to walk home and him shooting bullets at your feet and at you purposely missing while screaming at you to get your ass back in the club. You were too tired to deal with another situation like that.

“That’s what I thought.” Rindou said tilting your head back up and forcing you to make eye contact with him before he pressed his lips against yours while also pressing your body against the brick wall, your features creased at this action and you raised your hand before slapping him across his face separating your lips and leaving a bright red mark on the side of Rindou’s face “You think that just because you gave me a fake ass ‘I love you’ and a kiss, I’m just gonna become your mindless whore and follow you back into the club?” You said prodding your finger into his chest and roughly pressing against the custom Saint Laurent tuxedo jacket he wore. 

Rindou didn’t even acknowledge the pain in his face nor the action that caused it and just lustfully smiled at you “I have to fuck you too?” He added to your question, that he knew you wanted him. It was obvious from how you were nearly creating a fire with the friction you were creating with your thighs rubbing together and how you peered up at him with those wide eyes he always saw whenever you wanted something from him. Specifically, him in between your legs.

You just blinked at him taking in what he said before grabbing the collar of his white button-up and yanking him down sloppily kissing his lips. He let out a laugh in the kiss as you had given him the answer he knew you were going to say, his hand rested on your hip and his other hand released its grip on your jaw before heading down to the back of your thigh before moving up to your butt being squeezed between the fat of your ass and the brick wall and his other hand on your hip repeated the same motion as you two continued to make out “Jump.” He whispered as he held onto your butt and you did as he said, it was so hilarious how just a few minutes ago you were screaming back at him and telling him you didn’t care about what he had to say and now he was telling you to jump and you were doing it, the only flaw was you didn’t ask how high because you already knew how high.

Rindou held you up against the wall and your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively while your hands remained in their place gripping his collar. You whimpered as you broke the kiss before trailing your lips down to his exposed neck kissing and sucking all over his neck and his bonten tattoo. You liked putting hickies there because you knew you weren’t supposed to, he told you not to so it could be visible and that just made you want to do it more after all, you were still pissed at him.

Rindou’s hand crept up your dress to your inner thigh but you glared at him “Make me cum and that’s it. I’m still not talking to you tonight.” You said rudely and rindou smiled as his fingers glided over the wet patch on your panties, the same panties he saw Nahoya reveal to the entire club “Whatever you want baby.” He replied pushing the lace fabric to the side making your back arch slightly from the gush of cold wind hitting your core.

“But you better not go back to that curly-head fuck.” 

“You’d rather I go to Sanzu then?”

“You don’t remember when he almost lost all his fingers ‘cause you tried that shit?”

A small smile grew on your face at the mention of that situation, of course, you remembered. Sanzu wouldn’t stop laughing about it for weeks but he never stopped calling you baby girl even after that and it was most likely because he knew it pissed off Rindou and he loved to piss off Rindou. “I do but maybe I just like his hand on my ass. Maybe he likes it too.” You responded as you watched as Rindou’s hand worked at his belt while he continued to hold you up against the wall with his other “That’s what I’m for.” The hand he had on your ass to hold you up groped your butt as the words left his lips dripping with honey as you watched him lower his pants, not enough for them to pool around his ankles but just enough for him to free himself from the confinements of his boxers.

His cock stood up straight, tip bright red. He angled himself as he moved his hips forward before pushing himself in your leaking cunt “Slid right in huh?” Rindou commented as he watched as you huffed with your mouth opening slightly, he didn’t waste any time and immediately started thrusting inside of you “S...shut up.” All rindou could do was laugh at your stammering while you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

He let out groans as he felt you biting and kissing at his neck while he continued to hold you up against the cool brick wall, your dress shining in the fluorescent lights as you rocked back and forth with his hips meeting yours. 

The usual cycle of your relationship had continued. You and Rindou get into an argument, you say something about fucking another guy, he laughs and it ends in him fucking all of that confidence out of you and you cursed yourself for allowing it once again but with every hit at your cervix, you cared even less because at the end of the day. You loved him, even if you thought he didn’t love you and he never said it, you still loved him. If you didn’t, you would’ve left a long time ago “I love you.” You said as your nails dug into his shoulders, he didn’t respond and just grunted. Like usually.

His thrusts were getting sloppier as he threw his head back letting you deep moans, his Adam's apple bobbing with every voice crack and grunt as your pathetic moans echoed into his ear. Your back harshly hitting the wall repeatedly while you felt your dress bunching up to your hips, was sure to give you a few bruises along with some fingerprint-sized bruises on your ass from how his fingers were digging into the fat of your bottom but this time it was different. He was rougher than he usually was and that’s saying a lot considering he was pretty rough during make-up sex.

Rindou reached one of his hands up to grab your face and he pulled you out of his neck and forced you to look at him, tears in your eyes from the harsh thrusts and slight pain in your back as you looked at him with his purple irises peering down at you softly, instead of anger and lust you expected, love and lust were swirled into the lilac color of his eyes “I wanna…see you. Keep–fuck–looking at me.” The haitani man sputtered out as he breathed heavily, his chest rising up and down quickly with his deep breaths. His hand slowly made its way back to your ass and pushed you up higher as you were slightly leaning down and you kept looking at him resisting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut.

“I fucking love you too,” Rindou said and your eyes widened a bit at this, you didn’t believe him the first time he said that but now, you kind of did. It sounded like he meant it, like it was coming straight from his heart because whenever rindou was having sex with you, he mainly kept quiet unless he was dirty talking or calling you pretty and it was because everything he said in this moment of vulnerability he had with you came from his heart. When he called you pretty, he meant it. When he said how fucking good you felt, he meant it and him telling you that he loves you…well, he meant it and you saw it.

You saw it in his eyes, his roughness, the sound of his voice when he said it, you could tell but there was still that little part in your brain that was somehow still intact while the rest of your mind had gone dumb at this point, told you that he didn’t mean it. He had never said it before so why was he saying it now? He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t have but maybe he did.

Your mouth opened to ask him about it but quickly closed at the sudden flash of light making you and rindou both squeeze your eyes shut. You fluttered your eyes open before turning toward the direction of light shielding your eyes with your forearm and you saw a man, he had his phone up with the flash on laughing as he pointed it toward you and rindou “No fucking way, bonten boss rindou fucking some prostitute?” Did he have a death wish? He sounded like some stupid fanboy.

Rindou let out a grunt of dissatisfaction and annoyance but his thrusts didn’t halt, he reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a gun aiming it toward the phone and he didn’t waste any time pulling the trigger right in front of your eyes with smoke leaving the gun and a loud bang echoing in your eye ringing slightly. You and Rindou watched as the guy fell to the ground a bullet hole in the middle of his face and threw his phone “Oops. Didn’t mean to shoot him.” Rindou said carelessly, you doubted that he actually didn’t mean to do that, you knew that rindou and the rest of Bonten had no issue killing. Obviously.

And rindou had no issue whatsoever shooting someone dead for calling you out of your name which this man had foolishly done “See what I do for you baby?” Rindou said bringing your attention back to him and you didn’t say anything but let out a couple of moans as he continued to thrust inside of your sloppy cunt with squelches and wet sounds echoing into the empty alleyway along with your high-pitched slutty moans. “You gone dumb already? Can’t speak?” You whined at his words as he put his face to your neck sucking at the fleshy skin and pulling at it with his teeth.

“Y-You meant whatchu’ said? T-That you..ngh, love me?” You asked completely dismissing his question and only wanting an answer to why he would tell you that he loved you, but he didn’t respond. Not right away at least and you felt his thrusts get softer and a bit slower which was easier for you to take “Yeah, I do. I love you so fucking much, that’s why I stay with you. That’s why I fight for you, that’s why I kill for you.” Rindou answered in your ear raising his face a bit so you could hear his words clearly but it didn’t sound like he was telling you that, it sounded like he was telling himself that. Telling himself how stupid he was for not realizing his love for you earlier while he reminisced about all the things he had done for you and because of you.

You stayed silent as you moved up and down the wall with your back now fully pressed against the wall so there was no need for your back to feel that pain anymore, your eyes were wide and your lips were parted slightly at his words and your face stayed that way as he pulled his face completely away from your neck to look at you with his lidded eyes “I love you.” He repeated this time staring dead at you and your breath hitched at the sudden rough thrust but you remained with your eyes open as you held eye contact with him. He meant it, he really did. Rindou told you he loved you and…he meant it, it’s all you’ve ever wanted from him.

Your eyes watered as you brought your hands to the cheeks of his face before pulling him in for a gentle kiss closing your eyes as you did so, your tongues fighting for dominance as you and him both moaned and groaned into the kiss. His lips were soft against yours as he practically shoved his tongue down your throat while leaning his body even more into yours, one of your hands went to his hair running your fingers through the multi-colored locks making a mess of the previously tamed and combed strands. Fuck not forgiving him tonight. You knew you would anyway.

When Ran and Sanzu both told you they loved you and just didn’t want to admit it, you didn’t believe them. Not for one bit. Not even when they managed to get Kokonoi, Mikey, and Inui, who could not care less about whatever you and Rindou had going on, to tell you that he talks about you almost all day damn near every day whether it be how much you were pissing him off or what kind thing you did for him that morning. You didn’t believe any of it and said you wouldn’t until you heard those words come from Rindou’s mouth and now that you had, you felt stupid for not believing anything those two said because it was true. For once in their lives, they were telling the truth.

Maybe you would’ve believed them in the slightest if they weren’t such fucking liars.

Your cunt tightened around Rindou’s cock making a groan escape from his lips as he broke the kiss throwing his head back and messing up his hair even more than you did “Gonna take all of it?” He grumbled out as his pace quickened he was getting close and so were you, you were on the verge of spilling everything in that knot inside of your stomach out onto this filthy ground “Mhm!” You hummed in response while violently nodding as tears spilled down your cheeks from the emotional overload and the pleasure in your stomach that caused you to arch your back.

“N-Not gonna spill any? Fuck...!” Rindou continued to tease “No! Just…please rinnie!” You whined out loudly, everyone inside of the club could probably hear your pleas even over that loud music but no one would care. They were all probably too drunk to care in the first place and this wouldn’t be the first time you and Rindou had angry sex outside or inside of the club very loudly. Rindou didn’t say anything and just grunted as he delivered one more harsh thrust colliding his hips with yours for a final time before the knot snapped and you came screaming as you did so. Your cunt tightening around him once again as you did this made Rindou cum right after you emptying himself all in you with a moan following.

You two stood there in that position for a while catching your breath as you peered up at him in all of his post-climax glory with purple and pink strands sticking to his sweaty forehead while he glowed in the lights from above your head. He dropped your legs allowing you to stand on your own stumbling a bit from your heels before his hands went to fix your hair as you fixed your dress “You good now? Not gonna be a bitch or do I need to do s’more?” Rindou asked as he pulled up his pants buckling his belt and smoothing his palms down his tuxedo while watching as you fixed your panties before any of his cum could leak out and onto the floor or down your thigh.

You smiled at him sloppily before nodding earning a tired smile from him, you clung to his arm as you both began to walk back to the club ignoring the lifeless body that rindou had shot dead a minute ago while you smiled dumbly happy with the events that had taken place while rindou’s cum dropped onto the ground blew you as you walked leaking out of the sides of your panties. 

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[vibing-lizard-nose]

"You're allergic to that?"

So I have this scenario in mind: TW allergies, a bit of mess.

Character A comes from a family of metalworkers, their whole family has worked on a blacksmith making iron tools for decades. A is the youngest of their family and moves out to study/work on the city, away from home.

Some days later, they meet Character B who, much to their surprise, come from a line of carpenters. A moves in with B because they both go to the same college/workplace and living together is convenient.

There's one catch though: B does their wood related projects on their shared living room. A doesn't particularly mind this as they're used to the noise of electric tools going on and off all the time.

But as time goes by, A realized there's something off about this place. Ever since he moved in with B, they've been feeling weird.

The first sign was the weird pain in their ears, almost as if they were blocked and pulsing. They thought it was a tooth cavity, but upon coming back from a check-up they were sure that was not the reason.

Then the pain migrated to their face, and they found themselves congested beyond explanation. Might be a cold, moving from one place to another makes travelers sick as far as they know. But weeks go by, and there was no fever or another symptom that suggested the presence of a viral infection.

Except… the sneezing. They had never in their life experienced something like this. In a small town with only their family around, they had only ever seen people get like this when they got sick. But they knew there were more hints of a cold than just sneezes and sniffles, specially if they were the ones that made the person lay in bed for weeks.

But this was different.

And only then did they realized something else.

The day that everything stopped. The uncomfortable feeling on their ears and face, the unceasing drippy nose, the congestion. Everything stop almost too quickly. They might've gotten used to it by now.

Up until this point, they wasn't been a word about it with B. When they manage to have a bit of a chat one day during B's day off, B brings up the fact that they had finish working on those wooden crockery. The client had been very specific about the wood kind and shape of the cups. But at least it was over and they could rest. A congratulated B for finishing.

Although, internally, they had the brief thought that maybe this had something to do with the weird ordeal they had been dealing with, but they quickly brushed the idea off.

It wasn't too long until this idea sparked in them again after they woke up one morning, feeling worse than they had ever felt, the electric chainsaw a faint rattle in the living room.

Now this had to be some sort of wicked prank someone has playing on them, they didn't have a single week of freedom for this curse and the bloody thing came back? Unbelievable.

A decides is time to ask B about this. Maybe there was something in the apartment ventilation that was not functioning correctly. Or maybe they had some sort of pest that was going around spreading gems and gross stuff. They weren't sure but they knew B must knew a thing or two about the house.

As soon as they open the door of their room and step out to head into the living room, a scent flooded the air.

Wow. A was not away that carpenters had to use chemicals THIS strong, it was only wood for someone's sake! Unbelievable.

A aproches B and this hints B to turn off their tools, take off their mask and face their housemate for whatever inquiry they had.

A takes a breath, ready to unravel the secret of their mysterious problem to the only person that might give them an answer. It takes just one breath for chaos to break out.

The familiar tickle of a sneeze overwhelmed them, but instead of feeling like a small mouse softly trailing around, It felt like a stampede of elephants running eagerly to escape out of their nose. One sharp hitching breath later and a loud, obnoxious, desperate sneeze rushed out of them like it had been waiting to be let free for ages. It took them their last bit of control to turn their head as to not spray snot all over their companion.

This was ridiculous. THEY were specially ridiculous. And if they weren't, they sure looked like it.

They tries to say something, to apologize for their lack of manners when another sneeze, equally scandalous, came out like trying to catch up with the first one. Then followed another one, and another one. Soon it looked like they had only came to sneeze in front of their housemate who, needless to say, was slightly confused by what was happening.

A was running out of air. Oh shit. But every little breath they took in, it came right off with double the force. This was an unstoppable cycle of gasping and sneezing, and they were growing more worried about it not ending with every passing sneezes.

Finally, after witnessing enough, B takes A by the shoulders and guides them towards the kitchen. They help A by turning on the water on the sink and pressing on their back, a sign for them to bend and rinse their nose and face.

That was instant relief. Not that they hadn't tried this before, showers tended to ease whatever was bugging them. But in this particular moment and very particular situation, it felt like heaven for a second. After a few minutes, they had regained enough strength and air to straighten and grab the towel that B was offering them to dry their face off.

"Well, that was something." B started, arms crossed and a look of their face that was a mix of concern and a bit of a smirk. "I got worried when you reached the 20th one, thought you would faint or worse."

"You were counting?" Said A, baffled. "You're a bit of an ass."

"What? I needed to make sure you were actually dying or something, and not having really bad seasonal allergies." Argued B, rolling their eyes. "Coffins are hard to make and you don't get a free one just for living with me." There's a hint of sarcasm to the way B said that, and this made A stare at him for a moment.

"I don't have allergies-" Said A, sounding very much congested. They winced at the quality of their own voice and sniffled. "At least, not that I can think of."

Unbelievable, thought B. They looked A up and down, and went back up to scan their face. B took a moment to specially take in the red-rimmed, puffy eyes and the flush on their face that seemed to concentrate the most on the tip of their dripping nose.

B raised an eyebrow at A, like pointing out something obvious. "Are you sure about that?" came out in a more condescending way than they had wanted to, but really now. This was all too silly to be true.

"I've lived near forests my whole life and never have I ever felt like this!" A protested. "I never showed any sign of allergies or anything when I was a kid, I can't have any now." They looked too sure of themselves.

"You do realize that you can develop allergies later in life?" Explained B. "And you don't have to live in the forest to know if you have any allergies, you go to the doctor for tests. That's how it works." And B didn't want to brag about knowing basic biology knowledge, but this really felt like teaching a caveman complex calculus.

A remained silent for a moment, processing what had just been giving to them like a slow-running computer.

Eventually they looked up. "But what would I be allergic to? Any kind of metal? Can't be. Worked with those my whole life." They looked more confused now.

B hummed, a naughty idea forming in their head. "Since when have you been like this?" They said, rubbing a hand under their chin.

"Since I moved in." Said A, looking like they probably should've said this earlier. "Oh- but it stopped like a week ago, a bit less probably." They interrupted their own silence. "And I woke up feeling like shit again this morning, that's what- uh... what I wanted to tell you before."

B hummed a bit longer, although they were not thinking anything this time, they were just considering if they could get away with their idea without getting beaten up. "I think I know what it is." They said, smugly, then took out one of their dirty woodwork cloths out of their pocket.

Before A could even ask what were they doing, B shook the cloth right in front of A's face.

The reaction was immediate.

A loud gasp just like before, and a big, rattly sneeze surged out of them. Then followed another one, and another one. It looked like there was a fourth on the way and was getting stuck. Being a bit of a bastard, B delicately swiped the cloth under A's nose. A's nostrils grew wide as their eyes shut and one last powerful sneezes finally came out.

As pathetic as this seemed, B seemed to be enjoying this all too much. They helped A to do the water rinse again, just like the last time. Afterwards, they seemed a bit more relaxed about the whole situation and giggled.

"I think it's the pine sawdust." Said B, handing B a tissue when their nose started to act up again.

"But I've been out when pines bloom and that has never done something nearly as bad as this." Remembered A. "Sure it does tickle a little, but- it's pollen. Everyone feels like that around it."

"Oh I should know, I'm allergic to it." Said B confidently like it was something to brag about. "But not everyone is affected by just the pollen." And with that, B takes a small 10-unit blister pack of allergy medication and hands it to A.

"You're allergic to that?" A scoffed, before lowering their eyes to inspect what they had been handed.

"It's perfectly possible to have little to no reaction to pine pollen, but having a disaster with the sawdust. It comes from the wood, it worked a little different." Said B, kindly. The shift on behavior seemed a little weird to A, but nevertheless sweet. Maybe this was something someone else had told them when they discovered they had allergies.

"well... thanks." A looked at the blister pack, motionless. They stared at it like it was going to bite them. "And thanks for the help. I had no idea about these things, y'know?" A hint of a smile, but they were clearly embarrassed.

"No biggie, it's all cool." Said B, ready to open the kitchen door back again. "I think I'll stop the work on that table for today, that little brat of a customer can wait an extra day." This brought a smile to A's face, and their smile brought an even bigger one to B's face. "Do try to get a mask when you're around the house though, and go get your allergies checked by a doctor when you can." Said B, finally putting their mask back to leave the kitchen, closing the door behind them.

There A sat, on a kitchen chair. Only thinking how could such a messy and unpredictable thing as a weird allergy could bring someone you had barely talked with to form a kind of bond with you. It did felt nice though, now thinking about that too. To feel taken care of an not just another one of the dozen on siblings on a house. It felt special and unique to have this kind of attention.

And to think all it took was a bit of sawdust and a sneeze.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Rebound 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Curtis Everett

Summary: after a divorce, you try to start over.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The village talks. Anyone passing through might see Hammer Ford as a sleepy hamlet nestled amidst rolling hills. They might call it quaint, they may even mistake the whispers for wind. But the town is anything but quiet.

As loud as any tongue are their eyes. You know their names and they know yours. They watch as they pretend not to, looking for fuel for the mill.

You know that Lynette was staring at your ring finger, barren but marked with the imprint of a band. As much as you want to just forget the past, it's not quite over yet. The papers are signed but it's not sealed away. Back to square one, almost.

But there's no starting over here. There's always reminders. Familiar faces, listening ears, and loose lips. You put your head down and ignore them. It's about time you live for yourself and not anyone else.

The library drones with the noise of the ventilation and the hushed voices of those browsing the shelves. The soft click of the outdated mice on their pads and the flutter of pages fill the din. You stamp the returned books and set them on a cart.

The job isn't very much. It's never busy. Not so dully and lifeless as the years you spent at home living a lie.

You close another cover and slide the book aside. A tread squeaks and draws your gaze up. You greet the man approaching the desk as he offers a single book.

"Find everything okay?" You ask. You know him, just like everyone else. Curtis works down at the lumber mill.

"Sure," he answers as you stamp the book and write in the due date. Everything in Hammer Ford is antiquated and dead.

"Alright, three weeks," you say as he offers his library card. You key it in with his name and the call number into the old PC. He watches silently and you hand back the book. He accepts it with a soft thanks.

"It's a good one," you say.

"Hm," he furrows his brow before looking down at the book in his hand.

"Yeah, I read all his stuff when... well, I had a phase," you shrug, "anyways, have a good day. Sorry."

He pauses and considers the book, "I read at the yard. On my lunch."

You're surprised. You don't know much about Curtis, no one does, but he's never been very talkative. You don't even know why you tried.

"Hard work," you comment, "lot easier than this place."

"Eh," he claps the book in his hand and looks away, "well, have a good night."

"You too," you echo back.

You watch him go and don't think much more of it. You assume it's the same pity everyone else treats you with. Your husband left you and now you're working in the library, living in your sister's basement, and all alone. Compared to your ex, you're not exactly thriving.

And who wouldn't feel bad for you? You're over the hill, you're used, and you have a bit too much love in your handles. You feel bad for yourself.

You huff and carry on sorting books. No use dwelling on it all. You're no one's problem but your own now so it's up to you to do something about it.

🌲

On your day off, you wake up at the same time. You're already conditioned to working hours. You have your coffee on the small sofa and watch the local news. Not anything exciting.

This is the first day of your new life. You made up your mind as you lay sleepless at midnight. You're going to make a change.

So, you put on a pair of sweats and a loose tee and that ratty old pair of sneakers you've worn to tatters. It isn't a big leap forward but it's a start. Just a walk. You'll make an effort to go every day, after work during the week, and in the mornings on the weekends.

And the food. You have to rein that in. Just a little less pie and no sugar in your coffee. A decade of bad habits won't be put to rest in a single day but you'll at least try.

You leave out the basement door, mindful not to make too much noise as you do. You woke up your sister's kids once and haven't heard the end of it. You put in your wired earbuds and hook the tiny mp3 player to your waistband. You don't even think they make these things anymore.

You head off down the country road, hills sprawling before you. Just up the rise and you'll turn off into the woods. There's a walking trail that circles back around near Mr. Howland's. It should be too far.

You're proven wrong as you're breathless by the time you reach the treeline. You slow and find a stump to sit on just a few feet down the path. You fan yourself and mourn your own thoughtlessness. You should've brought water.

You get up and stretch your legs, already tired from the walk. You press on. You'll feel even more rotten if you turn back now.

You follow the winding trail around the trees and through the brush. Twigs snap under your soles with a peculiar echo. Critters rustle in the leaves and scurry into burrows. The sunlight shifts above as a shadow ripples over you.

You turn suddenly and look around, paranoid. It could be a bear but they don't often show themselves. Nothing. You're being stupid.

You turn up the music and fall back into step. You see the clearing just ahead and Mr. Howland's rotting shed. Halfway there. You don't think you'll be doing much more when you get home. You might just have a nap.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 23 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - penultimate chapter.

Summary - Spencer’s navigates being in alone in the ICU with his ghosts. Luke tries and fails to get through to him.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - hints at sexual activity (m/m), swearing, DID, talk of antipsychotic medication, a lot of internal monologging, mentions of urine, UTI, respiratory problems, suicidal ideation, mention of past sexual assault, past near relapse, heavy talk of hospital related things.

WC - 6.6k

Chapter 23 - Only the Lonely

It was unlikely you would have been able to sleep given everything that was running through your exhausted brain. With Spencer back on the ventilator in the ICU, succumbing to multiple personalities when he was awake, the fear was consuming.

You still hadn’t seen him, not even stepped in the room while he was sedated. Your time left together was getting shorter by the day and you knew it would soon be over. You shouldn’t be wasting a second away from him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him yet. 

Even if your mind hadn’t been awash with thoughts of him in the hospital, you wouldn’t have gotten much rest anyway, given the activities taking place in your guest room next door. Luke and Grant had been going at it all night long, their moans and the banging of the headboard enough to wake the dead. 

Copper had been perturbed by it too, deciding to sleep in bed curled up with you and occasionally barking if the noise got too loud. The men next door didn’t seem to notice.

You stifled a yawn as you leant against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee from a mug cradled between your hands. Copper was eating his kibble you’d put down for him and would no doubt need letting out for a good run considering he’d mostly been cooped up in the house for the last few days.

You needed to sort the horses too, Willow and Rusty had been extremely neglected recently and you were sure they both needed out of their stable for an hour or so to meander in the field. 

You heard footsteps on the stairs and you braced yourself to face one of the men staying in your guest room. You sipped more coffee as Grant strolled into the room, a small, slightly sleepy smile on his lips. 

“Morning,” he nodded his head at you.

“Morning, coffee?” You motioned to the freshly brewed pot and empty mugs on the counter.

“Please, I’m plum tuckered.” He headed past you towards the coffee and poured himself a mug.

“Hmm I can imagine.” You barely hid the bitterness from your tone.

Grant slid into one of the stools at the counter with his coffee and looked a little guiltily down into it.

“Ah, I guess we weren’t all that quiet, huh?” 

“Oh you were the very opposite of quiet.” You clucked. “I mean don’t get me wrong it sounded incredibly hot the first time but after the third it was a little grating.” 

Grant’s cheeks flushed red and he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. He continued staring down into his mug. 

“I’m sorry. This is your home and with Spencer the way he is…it was inconsiderate.” He mumbled. 

“Don’t sweat it, it’s okay. Can’t say I blame either of you, a couple of handsome studs.” You teased and when Grant looked up at you winked at him. 

“You know he doesn’t know about our kiss, right?” Grant whispered. 

And I assume you don’t know about my kiss with Luke. Jeez this is like a fucking soap opera.

“I figured as much. Don’t plan on telling him, don’t worry.” 

“Thanks.” Grant smiled softly, raising his mug to his lips. “I, uh…can I be honest with you ‘bout summin’?” 

“Uh, okay?” Your brow creased. 

“I know your name isn’t Elizabeth Parker. You’re that girl that Luke’s old partner has been hunting. The fugitive.” His words almost caused you to choke on your coffee.

You coughed a little, staring at him in wide eyed horror. 

“I…I’m sorry?” You choked. 

“I saw a file in his office. How does this work? Why hasn’t he arrested you?” Grant leant his elbows on the counter. 

“We have a deal.” You huffed out a breath. “He can take me in once he helps Spencer. Once I know he’ll be okay, Luke can slap the cuffs on me.” 

“Holy cow,” Grant pulled a face. “You must really love him.” 

“I do.” You nodded, trying not to look at the ring adorned on your finger. “I want him to be okay, I want to know that he’s going to get better. I don’t care what happens to me after that.” 

You sniffed back tears as you heard another set of feet on the stairs and you focused back on your coffee and not on the pain in your chest at the thought of leaving Spencer. 

Luke traipsed into the kitchen and offered you a small smile before sidling up to Grant and wrapping his arm around the other man. You turned away to give them a moment's privacy, not able to look at them like this without hearing the sounds they’d made last night. 

You heard some whispering transpire between the two of them before Luke cleared his throat.

“Uh, sorry about last night.” He spoke, his words heavy with guilt. 

“Just, uh, try to keep it down next time?” You turned back to him with a shrug. 

“Duly noted.” Luke blushed slightly. “So, uh, the hospital called and said Spencer is exhausted. He was up half of the night vomiting. They gave him medication through his IV for the UTI but he’s still struggling to empty his bladder and it's causing him a lot of pain. 

“On top of that his lungs are extremely sore and even with the ventilator it’s likely still putting pressure on his chest. They’re worried about the state of his lungs. He’s developed some scarring and it could lead to any number of respiratory illnesses. But Doctor Ryan was able to carry out some more neurological tests this morning and he was pleased that he doesn’t appear to have any brain damage or deficits. He’s still a little hazy in places but they think that could be a symptom of the DID.”

“So it is DID?” You asked, clutching your mug tightly.

“Doctor Vikram believes so. But she can’t say for sure if it’s permanent or just a causation of his sudden lack of medication combined with the alcohol. She has some new meds she wants to try him on - olanzapine - it's an antipsychotic used to manage symptoms of DID. It blocks some dopamine receptors in the brain, correcting the overactivity of dopamine. But they want to get his respiratory distress controlled and have him breathing on his own first. So he may have a few more days where he’s unsure of who he is and even who we are.” Luke took the mug Grant was offering him and sipped from it. 

“So we could do him more harm than good?” Grant asked, looking up at his boyfriend.

“Possibly,” Luke nodded sadly. “I didn’t tell either of you this but when he first woke up, he thought I was…he thought I was one of the men who abused him in prison.” 

Grant clutched Luke’s arm, looking at him with a sorrowful expression. You pouted, putting your mug down before you smashed it and wrapping your arms around your waist. 

“Jesus,” you hissed. “Luke I…that must have been horrible for you.” 

“It, uh, was not great.” Luke down played it. “But he’s sick, I understand that. I have to understand that.” 

The three of you fell into a stilted silence after that, letting it all wash over you. You had to take the good with the bad, try and focus on the fact there could be a light at the end of a very long tunnel for Spencer. 

***

The haze of sedation hung around him, clawing to every corner of his fractured mind. He wasn’t entirely pacified, but not yet completely in tune with his surroundings. 

The first thing he became aware of was the tube in his throat, threaded down his airway. His initial reaction had been to remove it but he’d reminded himself he was in the hospital, it was supposed to be there. Thankfully the sedative medication he’d been prescribed stopped him from panicking at the strange intrusion.

He could feel the air being pushed into his lungs via the ventilation machine and down through the tube. His natural instinct was to try and breath on his own but the machine wouldn’t allow it. Sometimes he would feel ready to take another breath but couldn’t until the ventilator was ready to pump that beautiful oxygen into him. 

He was hooked up to so many machines he couldn’t move more than a few inches without tugging on a wire here or a tube there. He was being fed liquid or medication, he wasn’t sure, through his IV in the crook of his arm, the suprapubic catheter was still lodged in his stomach.

There was something in his nose too which he could only assume was sending nutrition to his painful stomach. The little tacky pads on his chest were hooked up to the heart rate monitor which was beeping steadily, probably because he couldn’t succumb to his fear while sedated like this. 

He’d gagged initially when he’d come around after the general anaesthetic. He’d tried to cough, tried to speak but of course he could do neither. The doctor - Doctor Wells he thought he remembered - explained everything to him although a lot of it got lost in his foggy brain.

Gave me diuretics to clear the fluid in my lungs. Sedated. Ventilator. Need to monitor my blood, oxygen levels, and respiratory rate. Other things. She said other things…

Can’t move without help. Nurse will sit me up. Might make me walk. Something about bronchoscopy? Multiple of them, frequent. A camera down my throat to check my lungs. 

I know what this is. Think, think Reid. You know exactly what this is, Doctor Ryan said your brain wasn’t soup so just think…

ARDS? Acute respiratory distress syndrome? Even with treatment only 25 to 40 percent of people survive. If I’m one of the minority it’s likely I won’t ever retain full lung function. I’ll need physical therapy. Might never live a normal life again. 

Goddamn my stomach hurts, why does my stomach hurt so much? Am I still not fucking peeing properly? More comfortable than the one in my dick though, that’s for sure. 

You had surgery, it hurts because you’re probably bruised around the incision site. Don’t need to urinate, don’t think so anyway. Must have been. Must be working. 

No wait. Fuck, no I do need to go. Feels like my bladder is vibrating. What the fuck do I do? How do I make this thing work? 

He ran his fingers over the tube he could feel beneath his gown, trying to convey to his bladder and the catheter that he needed them to work together. 

What is happening, what is happening? Is it…oh my gosh its leaking…no that’s gross, it hurts! Oh so gross, this is a living hell. Someone please just put me out of my…

The door opened and a nurse he didn’t recognise walked in. He made eye contact with her, frantically pointing at his stomach. She frowned at him a little, coming closer to the bed.

“Is everything okay?” She asked softly. 

He whined around the tube in his throat, pointing again at the catheter insertion site beneath his gown. The woman followed his hands and rolled down the bed sheet, rolled up his gown and Spencer tried not to be embarrassed about being naked from the waist down but it was ingrained in him.

“Oh it’s okay, it’s just a little leakage. It might happen from time to time as you get used to the catheter.” She cleaned him off before going about replacing the dressing holding the tube in place. 

Time to time? No, no please this should never happen!

“You’re probably experiencing bladder spasms which is a normal symptom of your UTI. It will pass, sweetie, the antibiotics will just take a little time.” 

Normal? How the hell is any of this normal? 

She finished redressing his incision before standing back and smiling at him. 

“Aside from the bladder discomfort are you okay? Can I get you anything?” 

A shotgun with one bullet or a bottle of your strongest pills? How the FUCK am I supposed to answer you? 

He simply shook his head against the pillow, closing his eyes as he no longer wanted to partake in this incredibly one sided conversation. 

Soon he heard her leaving, humming as she went. When Spencer opened his eyes again the tears came streaming out. 

Is this just my fucking life now? Am I destined to forever be hooked up to a series of machines? Can’t eat, can’t talk, can’t even having a fucking a piss out of my cock. 

Jesus Christ why am I not dead? How the fuck did I end up here? I was alone, how could I have survived? Someone must have…

As the realisation started to present itself in his thickly veiled brain, those eyes he remembered seeing when he’d been spitting up water and turned onto his side, the door opened again and suddenly Spencer found himself looking into those same eyes that had saved him. 

Luke? Luke, are you really here? Luke please tell me I’m not dreaming. Luke! 

“Hey, you.” Luke croaked as he stepped into the room. “Wasn’t sure you’d be up for visitors but I couldn’t stay away. You mind me being here?”

Mind? Do I mind? Of course I don’t mind! Oh Luke this is so horrible, you have no idea. I feel like I’m trapped inside my own body, I hate it, I HATE IT. Please stay, please don’t ever leave.

Oh right, I can’t speak. 

Spencer shook his head instead. 

Luke smiled sadly and padded across the room, he slid into the chair next to the bed and Spencer rolled his head to the side to look at him. 

Spencer’s fingers twitched at his side, alerting Luke’s attention. He looked like he was trying to mime something, holding a pen? Writing?

“You want to write?” Luke asked and Spencer nodded. 

For lack of a pen and paper, Luke pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the notes app before handing it to Spencer. Spencer fumbled a little with it, his hands weak and shaky. It took him a few minutes to write out a simple message before showing the screen to Luke.

Why are you here? 

“Uh, Y/N called me.” Luke rolled his lip between his teeth.

Spencer’s eyes grew wide and the heart rate monitor picked up to show his signs of distress. Luke gently placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, thankful the young man didn’t try and push him away this time and didn’t seem to think he was someone else.

“It’s okay, Spencer, just breathe.” Luke realised his error as soon as he said it Spencer attempted to type out another message while his heart continued to race.

Can’t breathe, machine is doing that for me. 

“Yeah, that was a dumb thing to say. Sorry. But don’t panic, please.”

Spencer frowned back at the phone and typed furiously. 

How can I not panic? Why would she call you? Why would she put herself in danger like that?

“Spence, it’s all gonna be fine, I swear. You just need to focus on yourself right now.” Luke tried to calm him.

Little hard to do that when you’re going to arrest my fiance. 

Luke sucked in a deep breath at the sight of the word fiance. Clearly he still had a few things to work through. 

“Everything will be fine, I promise you.” Luke smiled shakily.

You saved my life? 

“Uh, I guess so. Do you remember anything?” 

Spencer frowned deeply at the phone, fingers still trembling and causing him to make multiple mistakes which he insisted on correcting before showing Luke.

Kinda remember you being there when I was on the floor in the bathroom. Everything else is a blur. Not sure what’s real and what’s not.

Luke nodded slowly, inhaling shakily. 

“I was here when you first woke up, I think you thought I was someone else.” Luke glanced down at his lap and Spencer frowned in confusion. 

He wasn’t even sure when he first woke up, his dreams and his reality blurring into one. Was he awake when he thought he was here? When he ripped off what he thought were restraints but must have been…his catheter. He was awake then, but who was…oh.

Frantic tapping at the phone caused Luke to look back up at Spencer’s pinched brows and his flying fingers.

Oh fuck Luke I am so sorry. I was delirious. I wasn’t with it. I’m so, so sorry. 

“It’s okay,” Luke waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it cari…Spencer.” 

Are the rest of the team here? 

“No, they’re on a case. I didn’t think you’d want them to see you like this either.” 

Thank you. Where is Y/N? What happened after she left the ranch?

Luke inhaled again before telling Spencer everything he knew of what had transpired to lead you to New Mexico where he met you and the deal the two of you had made. He ended things with saying you were back at the ranch taking care of the horses but he could call you if he wanted to see you.

Spencer shook his head. He didn’t want you to see him like this, even less than he wanted the rest of the BAU to see him like this. His tears rolled down his cheeks as he slowly typed out another message. 

I love her Luke, please don’t take her away from me. 

Luke’s lips puckered, his eyes sad and downturned as he took the device back which Spencer was handing over to him.

“Just don’t worry about it for now, you have to focus on yourself. Are you, uh, are there any…voices right now?” Luke dared to ask.

Spencer closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. 

“Good, that’s good. I know Doctor Vikram wants to give you some medication to help but maybe they’ll go away before then. Perhaps it was just temporary and maybe they’re gone now?” 

Spencer nodded, rolling onto his back and keeping his eyes shut tightly. Oh how he wished Luke was right. But he knew he wasn’t.

“Lying is a sin, boy.” 

“Just because you can’t talk right now, doesn’t mean they won’t find out. You’re as crazy as your mother, and crazy always finds its way to the surface.” 

Goddamnit, please? Please just let me rest. I just want to rest. 

“He really does look similar to me, aye cariño?” 

Stop please, please don’t call me that? You ruined my relationship with him, was that not enough? Do you have to ruin all my memories of him too? 

“Spencer? Spence, are you okay?” Luke’s voice cut above the racket in his head and he opened his eyes suddenly. Luke was standing, leaning over him. “Your heart is racing again, is everything okay?” 

Spencer lifted his hand, made a grabbing motion and thankfully Luke realised what he meant and handed him back his phone. A few moments later he turned the screen back to Luke and the words staring back at him on his own device shattered the older man to his core.

For the rest of his life, Luke Alvez would never get over reading those words typed at the hand of the man he still held so much love for. If his own heart rate were being monitored, the machine might just malfunction given how frantically his heart beat seeing those gut wrenching words looking back at him. 

Nothing is okay. I wish I were dead. 

***

“Still not sold the old ranch?” Grant’s voice carried across the stable from where he was filling Rusty’s food trough. 

You glanced up from where you were shovelling hay in the next stall. 

“How could you possibly know that?” You cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“My place hasn’t sold, it was an educated guess.” His lip quipped at the corner. 

“I guess people just aren’t in the market for all that land these days.” You sighed wistfully. “I’m gonna miss this place.” 

“I don’t think you gotta worry about that, little lady.” He walked out of the open paddock, past you towards Willow’s where he started replenishing her food. 

“What do you mean?” You followed him with your eyes curiously. 

“Contrary to popular belief, me and Luke did find some time to do some talking last night. All he wants is for Spencer to be happy and he knows you make him happy. I’m not making no promises or nothin’ but Luke’s a softy, a romantic at heart. I think you might find yourself able to stay here longer than you planned.” Grant smiled knowingly at you but it only added to your confusion. 

“I’m a fugitive wanted by the FBI. He’s not just going to give me a pass because I’m in love with Spencer.” You scoffed, leaning against the fence that separated you. 

“You willingly put yourself in danger for him. You put Spencer’s needs above your own freedom. It might not be ethical or hell even legal, but Luke is a kind soul and he can be awful forgiving if he wants to be.” 

“Don’t say things like that.” You sniffed back your tears that had suddenly accumulated. “Don’t say things like that and get my hopes up. It’s his job to arrest me. He’s not just going to let that slide.” 

“Hmm,” Grant shrugged. “Whadda I know, I’m just a simple cowboy?”

He smiled at you before turning away and going back to his task at hand. You stared at the back of his head as he acted as if nothing had happened. 

You couldn’t get your hopes up. There was no way Luke was going to let you off the hook for murdering your step father and escaping prison. 

But he had proven he would do just about anything for Spencer. Would that go as far to include allowing you to get away so the two of you could have a life together? 

You couldn’t even let yourself entertain the idea for fear of everything coming crashing down around you. 

***

Time is moving so slowly. Does time always move this slowly? Need something to do, a book or a chess board or something. Anything. I’m going to lose my mind. 

The nurse comes in every half hour give or take. It’s been twenty two minutes since she was last here, suctioning my airway. God I hate that, makes me feel sick. Makes me want to cough but I can’t cough because of this fucking tube.

Checks my blood, my oxygen levels. Checks my heart rate and my respiratory rate. Medicine every few hours, that horrible aerosolized spray through my breathing tube. Hate it. Hate everything. 

Doctor comes every hour. When was the last time she was here? Probably give me another bronchoscopy, maybe take some tissue samples. 

I’m so tired. Didn’t I just sleep? Why am I so damn tired? How long has it been since Luke was here? Hours, it’s been hours. Days? Guess he’s not coming back. 

Spencer had well and truly lost track of time. His medicine had him in and out of hazy sleep and he had long ago passed the point of knowing what day it was. In reality he had been back on the ventilator for six days, and just because he didn’t remember seeing Luke again after his first day back in the ICU, Luke had been to visit every day.

Most of the time Spencer would sleep during his visits but even when he was awake he was never lucid, and never Spencer. One day Luke had an entire conversation via his phone's note app with Cat Adams. Another he had a very confusing exchange in which Spencer flitted between Benjamin Merva and Raphael. 

The most horrifying experience had transpired yesterday when Spencer presented solely as one of the men who had attacked him in prison.

He’d gone into hideously gory details about the assaults he and his partners had inflicted upon Spencer. Luke wanted to smash his phone into tiny pieces by the time the man who wasn’t Spencer typed out, don’t you remember how good he is at sucking cock? Ay dios mio, it should be illegal. 

It had taken everything in Luke’s power not to vomit reading those messages typed by Spencer’s hand but not his mind. 

You and Grant went with him everyday but Luke was the only one who braved going in his room. 

“You told him you wanted to die, of course he’s not coming back, estúpido.” 

Oh god not you again. Why are you always here? Send someone else, Tobias, Cat, even my dad. Not you, please. 

“I’m always going to be here. Why would I ever leave you?” 

I can’t do this, I can’t spend the rest of my life seeing you., hearing you. I thought it might be temporary, but you’re never going away are you? 

“I’m not going away because you don’t want me to go away, cariño.” 

Please stop calling me that. Please? 

Tears snuck from his eyes as he laid there in the shell of a useless body, allowing his breathing, the one thing he’d always been in control of, be dictated by a machine. 

This was an all time low for Spencer Reid. If he couldn’t even do something as simple as pull oxygen into his lungs, what was the fucking point of anything? 

“You did this to yourself. I told you, suicide is a sin and you’re being punished for trying to take the cowards way out. It’s God’s will.” 

Tobias? Tobias, please don’t leave. 

God I never thought I’d say that. 

“How many times did you think about doing that after what we did to you? How many times did you want to kill yourself after prison, querido?” 

No, no I didn’t. Wouldn’t let you win, couldn’t let you win. 

“Hmm is that why you brought that dilaudid two weeks after you were released? Just enough to end it all. Woulda taken it too if you hadn’t found that ring. He saved your life and he never even realised, hijo de puta.” 

A phantom memory encased him then, the dilaudid vials in one hand, needle in the other. He’d been looking for something to use as a tourniquet when he’d opened a drawer and found the ring box hidden inside. 

He never told Luke that he’d seen it and no surprise, Luke had never given it to him. But it had been enough for him to want to try. He’d flushed the dilaudid down the toilet before Luke had any idea. 

It was my fault. All my fault. Would have married him in a heartbeat. Still would, wouldn’t I?…

No. No I wouldn’t. I love him, I’ll always love him. But she’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. 

“Not gonna happen now though is it? Because of you, you idiota. Because of your stupid decision to stop taking your meds she had to seek help from the only person she could. And now he’s going to arrest her and you’ll be all alone again. Well, apart from me. I’ll always be here, mi corazón.” 

Goddamnit I wish you wouldn’t be. How do I make you go away? 

“I’m a part of you. I’m in arraigado - ingrained - in you. I’m just as much a part of you as you are me.” 

Fuck, this is so unfair. Fucking Christ the nightmare will never be over, will it? 

“Shh cariño, it will be okay.” 

Spencer’s tears continued to roll down his hollow cheeks, focusing on the discomfort in his dry throat at the tube lodged inside it. 

He laid there in his husk of a body, listening to the steady beep beep beep of the heart monitor, the loud pumps of the ventilator as it kept him alive when his uncooperative lungs wouldn’t work for themselves. 

The almost imperceptible drip drip of the IV as it delivered antibiotics and fluids to his spent frame. The soft spasming of his stomach as the catheter worked constantly to remove every drop of liquid from his bladder before he could even register the need to urinate. 

How long could a person live like this? At least when they had him in a coma he wasn’t aware of all these things being done to him, wasn’t coherent of his total lack of autonomy over his own body. 

This must be what hell is like, surrounded by ghosts and being able to do nothing about it. Maybe I am dead after all, maybe this is just what death feels like. 

The door opened almost right on cue and the doctor walked in, followed closely by a nurse. He knew the drill by now and laid back and allowed it to happen, not that he could do much else. 

“Are you feeling okay, Doctor Reid?” Doctor Wells asked as she glanced at his vitals. 

By way of communicating he tapped the bedrail once. Once meant yes, twice was no. It was a lie and they probably all knew it. 

The nurse set up next to his bed, a small silver tray of instruments. A catheter was threaded down inside of his breathing tube so she could suction out any mucus that might have gathered in the tube and impede the machine's ability to do its job.

As always, he gagged at the intrusion, tried to cough but couldn’t. He laid back and took it, hating the way it felt and knowing he would never get used to that sensation even if he was on this machine the rest of his life. 

After suctioning came the medication, the spray which was administered down his tube and also made him gag furiously. He knew the bronchoscopy was coming, that was why Doctor Wells was here. She finished noting down his vitals before she turned to him with the tiny camera in hand. 

“We’re just going to take a few more tissue samples okay?” 

Tap. 

He closed his eyes while she went about her business and tried to ignore the way it made him want to vomit. It was all over in no more than five minutes but Spencer hated every second of it. 

“Your respiratory activity has been improving greatly, I’m hoping once we get the results back from these samples we might be able to start weaning you off the ventilator. Does that sound good?” 

Tap. 

The nurse was cleaning him with a damp cloth, he always tried to go to another place for this. His dissociations usually happened so easily he wasn’t even aware of them but this was one mortifying task his brain would not let him detach from. 

She moved him around like a goddamn rag doll manoeuvring him so she could remove the clothes he’d been dressed in, he assumed brought in by Luke in a last ditch attempt to help Spencer feel something akin to human. 

He had to admit it was better than the scratchy hospital gown, his flannel pyjama pants were soft and cosy and the t-shirt he wore he had a suspicion was one of Luke’s old FBI Academy shirts although he couldn’t really see it over all the equipment he was plugged into. 

He could have been more help, he could move his limbs and make the whole thing slightly less degrading but he didn’t. Instead he allowed her to lift his shirt, wash under his grossly smelling armpits, over his chest, around his catheter insertion and then his neck. 

Replacing the shirt she gave the same gentle attention to each of his arms, careful not to disturb his IV port. 

It was what came next that Spencer found incredibly dehumanising. 

The sheet was removed from the bed and his pyjama pants tugged down his legs. The way in which she cleaned his genitals, lifting his sad, flaccid penis as she wiped the cloth in those hard to reach places made him shudder. 

It felt like a violation and tears never failed to leak from his eyes but there was nothing else he could do. 

It was clinical, of course it was, she was a professional. But it didn’t stop Spencer from screaming internally at what his ravaged brain perceived to be an assault. 

Stop touching me! I don’t want it! Don’t want it! Please stop touching me! 

They’d noted early on that this part of the cleaning ritual caused his heart rate to skyrocket. It was understandable given what they knew about his traumatic past. No one had said as much but the doctors had all seen his full medical history, including the reports from Milburn infirmary. 

All they could do was to try and keep him calm, Doctor Wells mumbled soothing epitaphs while the nurse went about her business in an attempt to distract him. Judging by the heart monitor, it never worked. 

Finally she was finished and redressed him, covering his lower half with the sheet and steadily his heart rate lowered again once he was no longer being touched. 

“We want to try and get you moving, is that okay? We don’t want you to develop bed sores or for your muscles to atrophy.” 

No, no please don’t make me move. I’m so tired, so, so tired. Don’t want to move, just leave me here to die. 

Tap. Tap. 

“Doctor Reid, I’m sure you understand that once we can get you moving and off the ventilator you will have a lot more freedom. You might be able to wash yourself. The swelling in your urethra is settling nicely too, you might even be able to use the bathroom. But you won’t be able to do any of those things if you don’t first let us help you move.” Doctor Wells was no nonsense. He liked that about her. 

She’s right, dumbass. You wanna be stuck in this bed forever? At least once you’re back on your feet you can put yourself out of this godforsaken misery once and for all. 

Tap. 

“That’s what I thought.” Doctor Wells smiled. “Okay, we’ll start by raising the bed and then we’ll help you up okay?” 

Tap. 

Doctor Wells nodded to the nurse who was suddenly back at his side, pressing the button on the side of the bed to raise it. 

Spencer felt the bed shudder and jolt a little before his top half was being lifted so he was in more of a seated position. 

From this angle he had a direct line of sight out of the window into the corridor. A set of beautifully familiar eyes were staring back at him, hidden deep inside an oversized hood.

He blinked multiple times in quick succession as he tried to ascertain whether or not he was imagining things. But he wasn’t. You were really there. 

His heart monitor started frantically beeping again and Doctor Wells glanced from the machine to Spencer with a frown on her face. Spencer was staring out the window, one weak arm raised a few inches off of the bed as he tried pointing to the apparition in the window.

He made a pathetic whimpering sound through his tube, trying to explain without his words what he was trying to communicate. 

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. 

Please someone get her, I need her, please someone understand. 

Doctor Wells looked out the window and saw you standing there, arms hugging your waist. It was the first time you’d ventured out of the waiting room, the first time seeing Spencer since you’d found him in the tub. 

Doctor Wells nodded to the nurse to wait a moment while she made her way across the room and out of the door. Spencer stared dumbly through the window as he watched the two of you conversing but couldn’t hear what was being said.

Your body trembled and he saw you shake your head a few times. He felt more of his own tears falling. 

“She doesn’t want to see you, of course she doesn’t. She hates you, you put her through hell. She wants nothing to do with you.”

Then why is she here? 

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the pillows, not wanting to know what was going on. He’d only be disappointed and he’d dealt with far too much disappointment in his life. 

“She’ll never look at you the same. She hates you, she’s terrified of you. You tried to kill her, do you remember?”

No, no that wasn’t me! That was you, one of you, not me. I would never…I love her. I wasn’t myself, wasn’t me. I would never hurt her.

“You were very much you when you threw her up against the wall and slapped her, Spencie.” 

I didn’t…didn’t mean to. I was a wreck, my mind wasn’t working properly. I didn’t mean to hurt her. 

“But you would probably do it again. You aren’t well, you can’t be trusted to be around her. She’s too good for you.” 

The voices were once again blurring into one loud tone, he couldn’t decipher who was who. 

She is too good for me, of course she is. But I would never hurt her again, I wouldn’t, I WOULDN’T.

“It doesn’t really matter either way. She’s going to prison and you’ll never see her again.” 

He didn’t hear the door open again over the barrage of voices in his head screaming for attention. He didn’t realise Doctor Wells had returned until he felt a soft hand on his forearm, immediately silencing all of the yelling and throwing him into a deep quiet. 

The hand on his arm wasn’t sheathed in a latex glove like he’d grown used to from the doctors and nurses. It caused him to still, his heart monitor betraying his viciously thumping heart. 

He knew that soft touch, he would know it anywhere. It was emblazoned in his mind, solidified to his memory. He swallowed around the tube and almost gagged at the feeling. His forehead creased deeply in thought.

Y/N, is that you? Princess, are you here? Please say something, let me know it’s really you.

As if you could somehow read his thoughts he heard a breath being sucked in and then your shaking voice met his ears.

“S-Spence? Spence, it's me. Can you o-open your eyes?” 

Yes, yes I can do that. 

Slowly he lifted his lids and there you were at his bedside, gently brushing your fingers against his arm and staring down at him from the large hood hanging around your face. It didn’t take his full brain capacity to figure out why you were hiding yourself in this way. 

More tears fell from his tired eyes and he tried to smile at you but it was just a little too much effort. He wanted to speak, needed to speak but the apparatus keeping him alive dictated he couldn’t. 

Instead he shuffled a little, rolling his arm on the bed so his palm was facing upwards. You glanced at it with a soft frown but it didn’t take long for you to realise what he meant. You cautiously slid your hand in his, his weak fingers curling around your own as his heart monitor continued to beep frantically.

His fingers twitched against your hand, you didn’t understand why. You didn’t realise that he was trying to communicate with you the only way he knew how. His fingers tapped and brushed against your own in a strange series of what seemed to be dots and dashes, as though he was trying to tell you something. 

He knew you didn’t understand morse code, but he allowed himself to pretend as he spelled out the only thing he wanted to say to you in that moment. 

dot-dot. dot-dash-dot-dot. dash-dash-dash. dot-dot-dot-dash. dot. dash-dot-dash-dash. dash-dash-dash. dot-dot-dash. 

I love you. 

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling @pleasantwitchgarden @djsjjsjsjsjsnsnsns @bringitonhomejohnb @chineray1234

[todaysdocument]

Some handy tips from the War Department’s “You’re Going to Employ Women” pamphlet, April 1, 1943. 

Unfortunately, this is not a joke. 

Record Group 407: Records of the Adjutant General's Office

Series: Central Decimal Correspondence Files

File Unit: 291.9 Status of Women 1-1-42 THRU 12-31-45

Transcription: 

(a pamphlet with single staple on left side, off-white paper)

You're Going to Employ Women

WAR DEPARTMENT

WASHINGTON, D. C.

(In pencil along right side)  WGCS  17, 291.9,  (4-1-43)

[page 2]

(left page black and white photo)  woman filing a piece of metal

_______________careful...

(right facing page)  

(title)  When Training Women

ORIENT her more thoroughly than a man on health and safety rules, plant layout and production, company policies, job techniques.

Give her a preliminary training course to get the feel of work.

Relate her job training to past experience, usually domestic--interpret machinery operation in terms of household and kitchen appliances.

Arrange for continuous upgrading and train her for higher grade jobs.

Use community training facilities when necessary--trade schools, vocational classes in colleges and universities.

[page 3]

(Left side same woman)

_____________and conscientious...

(Right side)

(title)  When Working Woman

LIMIT her hours to 8 a day and 48 a week.

Schedule short morning and afternoon rest intervals on arduous jobs.

Have diet-balanced luncheons available--and  extra food on exhausting jobs.

Provide ample clean toilets and rest rooms--good plant ventilation free of dust, fumes and drafts--work seats and benches at proper height--clean orderly surroundings--safety devices on machinery.

Insist on proper work clothing, safe shoes.

Promote adequate local housing and transportation.

And…

[page 4]

(Left side of page)

(title)

Use a Trained Personnel Woman

She can counsel with management on training, job simplification and all general employment policies.

She understands women-worker needs.

She can give sympathetic attention to home problems.

She can be told personal difficulties that would not be confided to a man.

She can arrange for child care.

(right facing page)

-Women are pliant--adaptable.

-Women are dexterous--finger nimble.

-Women are accurate--precision workers.

-Women are good at repetitive tasks.

-Women are fine color and material observants.

Women CAN BE TRAINED TO DO ALMOST ANY JOB YOU'VE GOT.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Cautionary Tale on Carbon Monoxide

So, for the last 2 weeks or so my smoke alarm/carbon monoxide alarm has been beeping sporadically. I paid it no mind because there was no smoke, nothing was burning and I did not think it could be anything else. I assumed the alarm or batteries were going bad because they had been here forever ago.

So, we changed the batteries and bought a new alarm, and installed them through the house a week ago. The beeping stopped. However, a few days ago while I was cooking the beeping came back. Again, no smoke in the home and nothing was burning. We are searching trying to figure out why it keeps going off.

I constantly have my essential oil diffuser plugged in and running so some searches came back saying certain essential oils might set off the alarm if strong enough and my 16-year-old has been fear rubbing herself with Citronella essential oils(repellent for mosquitoes) because whenever the door opened these new breed mosquitos fly in and she is terrified if her face and body looking like a swollen pepperoni pizza🙄😂. (The concerns of a 16-year-old who was looking out for her upcoming first day of school face card status lmao)

Finally, after some YT videos and Google searches, we began to suspect it was beeping because of carbon monoxide. So we hurry and get out of the house, food still on the stove half cooked, and wait for the gas/electric company to come to investigate and fix the problem.

When the tech comes he walks inside the house and instantly the machine he carried to check the PPM set off a reading of 41. This level is highly dangerous and prolonged exposure can result in health risks and possibly death.😳

He continued to walk through the house and found pockets in the house where the PPM was 38-41(still dangerous). He goes into the kitchen and instantly says, I see your problem. He goes to the stove and points to my favorite, can't live without have used almost every time I cook 11" Copper Chef casserole pot and says this is the culprit.

Apparently, the size of the pot covers my entire burner so there is no ventilation happening under the pot which is bad. He then points to another favorite pot on the back burner and says this one is also bad because of the size of the pot. He turned on the fire under the Copper Chef pot and instantly his machine went up to 144 PPM😳.

I was appalled. He asked about how we all were feeling and asked who the cook in the house was and of course it was me✋🏽. I felt fine. I usually always have headaches and feel tired, he said I could be suffering from long-term carbon monoxide exposure and should go to the hospital to be sure.

To make this longer story just plain ol' long, I say all of this to caution you guys on pot sizes for your gas stove burners and to say it could be the things/ways you least expect.

Tips from the gas/electric company tech

-Make sure your pot is not bigger/wider than your burner flames.

-Turn on your overhead vent or open your kitchen windows when cooking for either or both of these: 1) If your pots are bigger than the burner flames or 2) To take an extra level of safety.

-If you are using bigger pots try to open closet doors throughout your home because the carbon monoxide can creep into the closed closet and remain there for hours.

-In your gas using ovens do not have any liners or protectors(the ones you put down to prevent spills or drips as you bake) on the bottom of the oven if they come anywhere near the two ventilation slits in the oven(where the flames/heat rises).

-If you have done all of the above and constantly feel lightheaded, dizzy, persistent headaches, fatigue, sleepiness, be safe and just get it checked out in the ER or Urgent Care.

Be safe out there y'all. Carbon Monoxide is known as a silent killer.

[floral-force]

Saddle Tramp - Chapter 1

ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST

simon "ghost" riley x f!reader - old west/cowboy/western au

summary: Anything is possible in the American West--unless your destiny is predetermined. When your fate as the heiress of a railroad magnate becomes entangled with that of a drifting bounty hunter, you ride into a world of opportunity. Despite your differences, something blooms between you and the masked man that is truly once in a lifetime. Saddle up for a journey west full of rugged terrain, kisses under the stars, smoky saloons, and finding love when you least expect it. (Loosely based on spaghetti westerns and the myth of Hades and Persephone.)

words: 2.7k+

warnings/tags/disclaimers: my work/blog is always 18+ only. I do not own any of the media I reference. alcohol and tobacco use, VERY brief and mild sexual imagery, cowboy ghost does something to me, bounty hunter/cowboy task force 141, references to westerns/media in western settings

a/n: at last...I RETURN!! and I come with the first chapter of a fic that has been bouncing around in my skull for nearly a year. I listened to saddle tramp and I finally fleshed it out. I hope y'all enjoy the ride <3 series masterlist | read on ao3 | join the tag list

The hiss of steam and excited chatter hit your ears as soon as you stepped off the train. The trip from Chicago to Denver was comfortable, but nothing beat stretching tight muscles on solid ground. You ached at the thought of sitting again soon and considered yourself lucky to have such a problem. This trip had been a long time coming, but now that you were standing in Denver and faced with its new terrain and the prospect of your fate, a pit grew in your stomach where a flower should be. The sun late-morning sky and the crisp air refreshed your eyes and lungs after nearly five days of gas lamps and poor ventilation. A luxurious trip came at a cost greater than money, you thought, wincing while rolling your shoulders.

You heard a man call your name and snapped your head to the right as he approached you with the two bulging leather bags you’d packed. You walked towards him, picking up your skirt so you could increase your pace. Despite the cool spring air, beads of sweat formed on your skin as you hurried towards the end of the train. You wiped your dewy forehead with the back of your hand and huffed, hoping nobody could discern your discomfort. You stopped at the middle of the train to meet the man carrying your bags in his crisp blue uniform. As he came into view, you recognized his short brown hair and lean frame—it was Douglas, your father’s assistant.

“Miss, you didn’t need to meet me here!” 

You politely smiled and smoothed out your skirts. “Well, here I am, sir.”

He cleared his throat and looked to his right at the bustling station. “The stage is waiting for you.”

“Here, let me take these off your hands,” you said, reaching for the luggage.

“No, miss, I couldn’t let you carry them! Your father would murder me if he found out.”

You yanked them out of his hands and met his wide green eyes. “He won’t, Mr. Douglas. Now, I’d really love to get the last leg of my trip over with. Traveling is hell for my head.”

“Right this way,” he sighed, motioning for you to follow him through the throng of people.

This wasn’t your first time in Denver, but it was a one-way trip. Your rigorous education groomed you to take over your family’s business, and your father finally decided it was time to begin the hands-on portion of your training. Responsibility made it slightly easier to pack your bags and leave the bustling city you called home, but the expectations on your shoulders weighed your feet down. The only people waiting for you in Denver were Douglas and your father, and you doubted you’d be allowed to visit your aunts and cousins in Chicago within the next six months.

At least Colorado had scenic views and the scent of opportunity. It helped distract you from the bumpy ride in the stagecoach; the first-class passenger train car spoiled you more than you realized. 

“Only a few hours before we reach town, miss.”

“I don’t know how you stand this, Douglas. This is worse for my nausea than a choppy day on the lake or at sea.”

“You’ll adjust in time.”

“I hope so,” you grumbled, “because this is unbearable.”

Finally, the stagecoach came to a stop. Douglas exited and helped you step out, then gestured to the wooden posts framing a dusty main street. 

“Welcome to Steel Run!”

You forced a smile, then grabbed your bags from the driver. Just ahead of the posts, you saw your father speaking with another man on the shaded porch of what you assumed to be the sheriff’s office. Squinting up at the awning, a large sign confirmed your guess. Douglas snatched your bags before you could protest, then urged you to follow him towards your new life.

“Mr. Clarke!”

Your father turned at Douglas’ call, then beamed when he saw you. He abandoned the conversation and walked towards you with his arms out. You fell into his hug and savored the small comfort despite the conflict in your chest. He said your name and planted a kiss on the top of your head. You looked up at him when he pulled away, hoping that your expression gave nothing away.

 “I’m so happy you made it here safely. I trust the journey here was enjoyable?”

“It was, until the ride in the stage.”

He laughed. “You’ll become accustomed to it.”

“That’s what I told her, Mr. Clarke,” Douglas chirped.

“Good man!” 

Your father’s hearty laugh echoed in your head and bounced off the buildings. You leaned to the left and looked past your father’s shoulder at the man standing awkwardly on the porch. He met your eyes, his hair cut short on his head and his clothes perfectly tailored. A badge pinned on his vest glinted when he shifted towards you. You furrowed your brow and nodded your chin at him.

“Who is he?”

“Oh, that fellow?” Your father twisted to look back, then gestured for the man to join your clump. 

When he finally reached your father’s side, he gave you a slight bow. “I’m Phillip Graves. It’s a pleasure, miss.”

You gave him a weak smile. “How do you know my father?”

“My father used some of the profits from his fur trade to fund much of your father’s railroad company. When he passed a month ago, I took over and I’ve been working closely with Mr. Clarke ever since.”

“Phillip, please call me George. We’ll be closer than business partners soon.”

Closer than business partners? What in the hell was your father implying? Your hands grew clammy.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Graves.”

“Please, call me Phillip.”

Your father clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your duties as deputy. I wouldn’t want you to upset Sherriff Ryan.”

“I will see you later then, George.” He gave you a nod and took your hand, kissing your knuckles. “It was a pleasure. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Phillip turned and marched into the building. Your father watched him, then snapped back to focus his wide grin on you. 

“I apologize for the short notice, but I’m hosting a welcome party for you tonight.”

“Tonight?” Your eyes widened and you groaned. “Father, you cannot be serious. I look a mess and the clothes I packed need to be ironed!”

“I went to the trouble of having the seamstress sew something together for you.”

“You didn’t have to—"

A sudden hug forced the air out of your lungs with an oof. “Consider it a welcome gift.” He pulled back and sighed. “Now, let’s head home.”

As you marched down the road towards your father’s property—no, your new home—Douglas pointed out a few notable storefronts. The seamstress on the right, the general store on the left, the saloon on the corner where a new street intersects the main road—“We named it Providence Street,” your father noted—and the doctor just across the street from it. How convenient, you mused as you passed the door. You peered down the street while you walked through the intersection. Meek dwellings peppered it, the short, small cabins housing hopeful prospectors. The buildings lining the road started to spread apart from each other, only one property claiming the very end of main street. 

Finally, your trio approached the two-story home, its slanted roof and warm brown wood suddenly imposing under high noon. You stopped to stare when your toes reached the brick path leading to a shaded porch, the awning supported by four solemn cedar posts. In the distance, mountains scarred the sky; scattered around the home were the trees you’d watched crawl higher and stretch wider throughout the years. Your eyes flitted over the rope swing you’d abandoned after adolescence as a gentle breeze swayed the wooden seat. Lush green leaves offered shade around the property and wildflowers dotted it with splotches of color—you were glad you’d convinced your father to let nature take its course.

“You’re staring as if you’ve never seen it,” your father chuckled, snapping you out of your daze.

“Just savoring the moment, Papa.”

“There will be plenty of time for that later, my dove. For now, let’s go inside—you’ve had a long journey.”

You nodded and followed him, Douglas trailing behind you. Your father opened the front door and held it open for you with a wide smile. Your knees were weak as you crossed the threshold, the sweat on your skin and soaking into your clothes suddenly overwhelming. Excusing yourself and promising your return soon, you hurried up the plain white staircase with Douglas following in your frantic footsteps.

Immediately to the right at the top of the stairs was the door to your room. You turned to Douglas and held out your hands for your bags; he obliged with a nod and rushed back downstairs.

As soon as you stepped inside your room and shut the creaky door, your bags slipped out of your hands and hit the floor with a thud. Afternoon sun flooded the room through the windows in front of you and to your right, its burning light filtered by sheer white curtains. The chestnut armoire in the middle of the wall on your left faced a matching bed with plush sheets and pillows. A sweet siren song called you over and pulled you onto the mattress, finally relieving the fatigue you’d been fighting since morning. It bounced as you flopped belly-first onto it with a groan and a curse. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed rich purple fabric draped across your reading chair in the corner, and something sparkled on the side table next to it. You decided to investigate later as your eyes fluttered shut, the siren of sleep pulling you into the sea of dreams.

A clang filled Simon’s ears when the bars of the town jail cell closed, the air thick under the bandana hiding half his face. Outside, there was a muffled whinny—probably Johnny’s impatient Pinto, Eejit. On his left stood Price, stroking his beard and watching the sheriff like a hawk as he counted out their reward. Johnny leaned against the doorframe with a hand in his pocket while Gaz looked over the wanted posters nailed into the back wall. The deputy stood over the sheriff’s shoulder across from Simon to observe the transaction. The bounty they’d brought in muttered in the cell, no doubt sending curses their way.

“Eight, nine, one thousand.” The sheriff slid the stack of bills across his desk. He tipped his hat. “Thank you kindly, gentlemen.”

“Happy to help,” Price said, pocketing the money.

“Bastards! My men will kill you!” The bounty yelled, knuckles white as he gripped the cell’s iron bars. The unbothered sheriff lit a cigarillo and offered one to the deputy, who turned it down.

“Not if we get to’em first, mate,” Gaz responded. Simon turned to see him rip a few posters off the wall and hand them to Johnny, his careful hands folding them one by one.

Price turned his back to the sheriff. “Let’s go, lads. Saw a pub down th’road.”

The deputy interrupted their exit with a scoff. “The saloon is at the corner across from the general store.”

Simon turned on his heel and sent a hidden scowl his way, eyebrows pressed together. The deputy withered under the searing gaze but to his credit, he barely showed it. 

“I don’ give a fuck what you Yanks call it. If it serves whiskey and I pay for it, it’s a fuckin’ pub.”

He stormed out of the sheriff’s office and joined his group outside. Gaz and Johnny smirked at him as they untied their horses’ reins from the hitching rail, but Price shook his head. He started to count the money out and met Simon’s eyes under his hat when he gave him his cut. Even though no words were said, Simon could hear the older man scolding him for mouthing off. He smirked under his face cloth; Price knew that even a smack with the butt of his pistol wouldn’t change Simon. They joined the other two at their horses, untying them and urging them up the road single file.

A short walk up the road, and they were tying their horses up and then entering the town saloon. Jaunty music paused when Price parted the swinging doors and led the other three men inside, and it resumed once they swung closed behind Simon. Johnny wasted no time sauntering up to the bar and ordering a bottle of whiskey with four glasses while the others staked their claim on a table along the wall across from it. It was livelier than Simon had expected it to be in the late afternoon; the sun could still cut through the hazy, smoky air and shine on their sins. Gaz waved off a saloon girl and settled into the chair facing the wall, making sure not to block Simon’s view of the street outside.

Johnny arrived and set the whiskey and glasses in the center of the table with a grin. “Drink up lads, firs’ one ‘s’on me.” 

Price poured the amber alcohol, and each man took a glass. He raised his in the air and said, “Cheers to a job well done.”

“May the next one be even easier,” Gaz added.

They shared a chuckle and clinked their glasses. The whiskey burnt Simon’s throat, but it was a welcome change from stale canteen water. The longer he lived in the States, the more he got used to their pathetic excuse for whiskey. Johnny refilled his glass as soon as he set it down. Simon raised his eyebrow, and the Scot only shrugged before taking a sip of his refreshed drink. He supposed this was Johnny’s way of telling him to relax—maybe tonight, he would.

But it would take more than a bottle of whiskey, that was for bloody sure.

“I’ll be right back,” Simon flashed his container of tobacco as he stood up.

Gaz looked up quizzically. “Why won’ya smoke in here, Ghost?”

Simon shook his head and pushed his chair in. “Too many people in here starin’.”

He cut off any protest before it could begin with hurried steps back outside and onto the creaky wooden porch. A deep breath of fresh air instantly calmed his nerves. He turned to the right where there was shade and leaned against a sun-bleached post in front of where their posse’s horses were tied up. After calming his flighty eyes, he tugged his face cloth down and under his chin. Finally, he placed a cigarillo he’d rolled just the night prior by the campfire light between his chapped lips and lit it with the steady hand he used to fire the pistol on his hip. The first drag was smoother than the ride into town, an unexpected treat. He was going to make this last and blame the long smoke break on the distant mountains piercing the sky.

He'd be lying if he said American scenery was blander than boiled potatoes.

Shadows grew longer as the sun descended towards the horizon, late-afternoon light trickling over the land. Another deep inhale numbed his mind, a smoky exhale danced towards the blue sky. Two men in crisp suits walked past and glanced at him, then quickly returned to their lively conversation after noticing the holsters on his hips. This town was perfect for a quick bounty and a drink, but not much more, Simon decided, flicking ash on the ground. He watched the smoke rise as the gray bits fluttered down and landed on the porch, robbed of the chance to meet freedom above, doomed to a fate they couldn’t change. He put the rolled tobacco back in his mouth and looked up. 

Then, he saw her.

She stood in front of the general store fiddling with a piece of paper. The cigarillo nearly fell out of his mouth when the clouds parted and doused her in golden rays. She held her hand over her eyes and turned to her right, briefly scanning her surroundings and stopping on him. She returned his stare and made Simon her captive. If she walked over and demanded that he get on his knees and get under her skirt, he’d happily oblige. He shook his head and got the image out of his head—it was wrong to think of a lass like that, even more so when she looked that damn angelic.

When he opened his eyes, she had vanished, and his cigarillo was burnt out. He dropped it to the ground and snuffed it with the toe of his boot until it was ashy mush. He yanked the cloth back up over his nose and pushed the saloon doors open with a bang. His posse turned where they sat, watching him march to their table. His proposition would be a tough sell, but he had money in his pocket and would waste it all on squeaky beds and shitty whiskey if it meant they’d agree to it.

“We have to stay another night, lads.”

next

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