#The next rush magazine health

[thenextrush]

How To Use Breathwork To Master Your Emotional State

It’s a New Year and no doubt you might be worried about returning to the new year with the same problems of feeling stressed, burnt out, and anxious on a daily basis, or maybe not and if thats the case, exit out of this article it’s not for you… However if it is then it’s now time to learn how to control your state and shift from a “surviving” to a “thriving” state.  “Sounds like a vibe if you…

[not-sleepys-blog]

Wolf!Nanami in heat

Content: Wolf hybrid Nanami who is have a rough time with his heat, !escort freader, masterbation, sex, size kink?, unprotected sex

Word count: 1,595

A/N: I made reader black because me too sis

“I don’t need help” Nanami grumbles into his phone, the voice on the other end sighs. “You can’t keep pretending that you can handle your heats by yourself, Nanami” Satoru, Nanami’s friend co-worker at the office he works at finally says. He can already imagine the shit eating grin on Satoru’s face as he continues talking. “You know this service is legit, they have all kinds of escorts, hybrids, sirens, succubus, and I’m pretty sure they even have humans working for them! Maybe I should try out a pretty little human.” Satoru giggles mischievously, earning an annoyed groan from Nanami as he hangs up on Satoru. Nanami tosses his phone on the couch next to him alongside balled up  tissues and ripped up porno magazines that didn’t help satisfy his heat. His hand moves up to his hair, his nails digging into his scalp as he struggles to fight off the urge to punch a hole into his wall near his tv.

Nanami’s heats have always been bad but this never this bad. Satoru was right even though he didn't want to give him that satisfaction of being right. Nanami is at his breaking point, he should've known that the back alley doctor’s heat suppressants he’s been taking would eventually fail him.

He can feel his cock hardening again, basically pulsating in between his thighs as he’s sitting on the edge of his couch. He groans rather loudly, the overstimulation almost painful. He’s already come six times, maybe eight. He stopped counting being too lost in the temporary relief of jerking off to care. But no matter how many times he cums it still doesn’t ease up his heat and he knows he can’t do it alone anymore. It’s been proven that going heats alone puts the body through stress and causes health problems. It’s gotten to the point that the government legalized escort services, for all the lonely and single hybrids that didn’t have a partner to ease the heat. 

The last thing he’d imagined himself doing was ordering from one of the many relief services he heard from Satoru and Suguru. He pushed it off for as long as he could but as the troublesome duo sent him links to various websites just as the haze of his heat came over him. By the time he realized he ordered an escort it was too late and there was no damn way to cancel. The worst part he didn’t know who he ordered, what he did know was that next time he saw Satoru and Suguru he was going to grab them by their tails and jump rope with their annoying asses.

The front door rings, his fluffy ears perking up as he’s pulled out of his thoughts. He stands up from the couch, his rock hard cock slapping against his thigh, dripping pre cum onto the floor beneath him. He doesn't even have enough common sense and mental capacity to put on pants or boxers, his breathing is ragged and heavy and his vision is blurry as he reaches the door to his apartment, yanking it open. He feels embarrassed when the cool air from the night time blows in from his doorway, the heat and musk of his more apparent but he’s too busy looking at you. His pupil dilating as a damn near debilitating rush of heat washes over him, his bushy tail swaying behind him, He wasn’t expecting a cute, petite human. He could probably break you in half if he wasn't careful. Your brown skin, curly hair, and curvy body was driving him crazy, well in his current state any woman would drive him nuts, but you were just… something else. Everything about you made his cock throb, the scent of your perfume and the way your hips moved as you rubbed your thighs together trying to hide your own arousal. “Fuck me” he muttered under his breath unable to tear his eyes away from you curvy figure. He wanted to break your tiny frame. 

His hand reached out, grabbing your arm roughly, yanking you inside before slamming the door shut behind them. “You’re going to do as I say, understand?” He growled as he grabbed your face, squeezing it slightly, not enough to hurt you, he didn’t want to damage your pretty face. You nod, whimpering as your breath catches in your throat. Your nod satisfied him, he licked his lips as he imagined how good you would taste, how good you would feel around his cock. He imagined your soft moans and whines as you claimed his thick cock wouldn’t fit in your pretty little pussy. He shook his head to focus on the pretty little thing in front of him, making his tail wag. “On your knees, doll. You’re going to suck me off.” His voice, low and husky. You drop down to your knees taking his already hard cock into your hands, kissing the shaft before you licked a small lick along one of his veins. You open your mouth wide, taking his cockhead into your mouth, you swirl your tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive spot beneath his foreskin. You sucked on his cock, your lips moving up and down his shaft, earning a groan from him as you massage his heavy balls. Nanami’s eyes glazed over with pleasure, his giant hands braced against the wall, his hips rocking slightly. “Fuck, thats a good little slut.” He praised.

You suck in your cheeks making your already tight mouth, more snug. Your teeth gently grazed against his shaft, you moaned around his cock as you took his full length. His eyes widened as you took his entire length into your mouth. He couldn’t help but moan, his hips rocking faster, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. His hands gripped your beautiful curls, holding your head steady as his fingers tangled into your locks. Nanami’s cock throbbed in your mouth, his cum building up inside of him ready to come out. He pulled out of his thick cock glistening with your saliva. “Stand up” he demanded as he pulled you up to your feet. He pulled his shirt off, revealing his muscular body. His wolf ears twitched  and his tail flicked behind him, the tip twitching with excitement. He stepped closer to you, his cock pressing against your pussy. Without any kind of warning he lifted you up, pinning you against the wall with one hand while using his other hand to yank down your skirt and panties. His cock rubbing against your sensitive folds, teasing your entrance. You whine in response to his teasing, he responded to your whines with coos “Shhh doll, be patient. You’ll get it soon enough.” He groaned as he rocked his hips back and forth, rubbing his cock against your wetness. 

“I’m going to fuck you so hard” He groaned, thrusting his cock into your pussy “Ahh, fuck you’re so fucking tight babydoll” he moaned as he began to pound into you, his hips moving in sync with his thrusts. His cockhead hitting your G-spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands slide down cupping your ass, squeezing it before giving it a slap, while his other hand grips your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your neck and collarbone.You let out a series of loud mewls, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “It’s too big… can’t take it, won’t fit.” You whined into the wall, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth. Nanami growled, his wolf instinct taking over as he felt you clench around his cock. His ears perked up, and his tail swished back and forth. He couldn’t help but bite down on his lip, his teeth scraping against his skin as he thrust harder and deeper. The scent of your arousal filled his nostrils, your sweet moans and whimpers filled his ears, driving him to the brink of madness.”You feel so good around me” he growled, his voice filled with lust. “I’m gonna make you take every inch of my cock, and you’ll love it like a good little whore.” His hand slid down to your clit, rubbing it in circles, his thumb flicking over it with the write amount of pressure. His other hand tightened its grip on your hair, pulling your head back even further. He leaned in, his fangs grazing your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys as he whispered into your ear.

“Mine. You’re mine now doll, I’m going to fill you up and breed you yeah” He grunted his voice rough with desire as his own climax building rapidly. His cock twitched violently inside you, hitting your g-spot again and again. “‘M gonna cum” you babbled, his cock has you seeing stars as he rammed into you. “Gonna cum f’ me? Cum for me doll” A string of mewls leave your lips, squeezing your eyes shut as you come around his fat cock. Your vision became blurred as he thrusted into you repeatedly.

 His cock twitched violently inside you as he felt you hitting your peak. He thrusted into you, burying his entire length inside her, his cockhead hitting your cervix. He grunted as his knot formed before his cum spilled into your tight hole, filling it to the brim. His hand moved back down to your clit rubbing faster, milking every last drop of your orgasm from you. His hips sputtered, his cock still buried deep inside you, as he continued to pump his seed into you, claiming you as his. <3

[theclearblue]

I think with the JJK ending I'm not in the camp of thinking the final chapter or even a lot of the resolution of the Sukuna fight was bad. I like the final panel of it circling back to the shack and the finger as a ward, I liked the introspection of Sukuna to choose a different life for himself this time with Uraume, instead of embracing himself as "the strongest" and playing out the part of a curse. I liked that it was a team effort to take down Sukuna ultimately while also giving Yuuji a chance to shine in those final moments. I'm also glad Gojo did not comeback to life, he should be able to rest and the new generation gets a chance to take charge.

However, a final chapter was never going to fix the myriad of problems and unanswered questions that roughly the last one and a half years of JJK has had. Pacing I think is what ultimately hurts this series, with the Gojo and Sukuna battle stretched way out, the Kenjaku fight only taking four chapters, and then a way over extended fight with Sukuna with a rushed resolution concerning the return of Nobara and, more glaringly, not focusing on Megumi at all and his development during this time. Chapter 269 is still one of the most baffling chapters I have ever read, giving us answers to questions nobody asked or could of possibly foreseen, and that really don't matter. Spending this time on a secret shadow society that was draining the life of simple domain users, but don't worry! It's all taken care of instead of on the merger, Tengen, Megumi, Nobara, how the jujutsu society would move forward, a solution to cursed energy, the whole cursed corpses plot line, the American military plot line, grieving the people they lost in this fight, etc.

I enjoyed and liked parts of the final stretch of this series, but I think Yuki's death, the American military plot line, and the reintroduction of Gojo into the series with a month long timeskip is a turning point in the series for the worse. The Culling Games introduces a lot of really interesting lore and theory about the Heian era and cursed energy which feels like it dies with Yuki. The American military thread is still bizarre seeing as it drops out of the story as quickly as it's dropped in, and then after Gojo's return, instead of letting the characters breath a little bit after the shakeup of Gojo returning and Megumi being taken over, we jump straight into the dragged out Sukuna fight.

And ultimately I find it somewhat strange to end the last chapter on a benign mission the trio goes on that is similar to something we would of seen at the beginning of the series, like after seeing this system wear down the Hidden Inventory cast, and then we see throughout this series that the cycle continued with wearing down the current students, it's insane to me that they are still going on these missions. Sure the old higher ups are dead, but....what replaced it? It doesn't seem to have really been dismantled if they're just going on missions again. I really would of liked to have seen the merger affect the story more (as was implied tbh) instead of "Yay Sukuna was defeated, time to go back to what we did before." The next generation moves forward, but what are the systemic changes that take place? We'll never know.

I hope Gege finds a different magazine to publish any future series he does, I do think he's a good writer, he's still young, and I hope he does a series that isn't crunched under the weekly schedule of Shonen Jump. he had health problems throughout the latter half of the series and it's not hard to imagine why. A monthly schedule for manga should be the standard, not the exception, and I think a lot of my frustrations with the writing would have been remedied if Gege simply had more time to write the series he wanted to write.

[weixuldo]

Linecook Anakin HCs

pleaseeee i cannot get this idea out of my mind (maybe i’m just tryna romanticize my job lol) also lemme just say this list is hella unorganized ( just like my brain lol)

warnings: cursing, ani is a typical horny young adult, smoking; weed

Muscular arms, veins!!

Beautiful blue eyes look up at the screen to see the next meal prep (you imagine those same eyes looking up at you like that if you ever get him on his knees)

He always finds something to compliment you on (even though there’s not much room for expression due to the standard comply uniform)

He’s almost always working cause he wants money and honestly doesn’t mind the atmosphere of the kitchen. 

Plus weed isn't cheap and he likes to smoke :)

On breaks you’ll often see him out back smoking a cig or a vape (depending on his mood).

“You know that stuff is bad for you right?” 

“Yea, i dont really give a shit tho”

You roll your eyes, “well don’t tell me I didn’t warn you when you’re carrying around an oxygen tank in thirty years”

He sent a play sad face your way and exclaimed “That’s so sweet, you’re looking out for my health”

“You’re so full of shit Skywalker” you say as you go back inside.

Though, after that encounter you notice he started to chew a lot more gum and smoke a lot less

He flirts with other waitresses too, but you are definitely his favorite

Reaches stuff on the top shelf when you can't. 

“Need some help princess?”

Winks at you from behind the window

Before you got to know him, you were a little afraid of him

He’s honestly so good at his job that it’s scary- he rarely messes up an order and if it's messed up it’s usually ‘cause someone rang it in wrong.

He’d be messing around one minute then barking orders at people when it got busy- he was always so focused on whatever he was doing whether it be cooking the meat, tossing salads, making desserts, etc

You used to see him roll his eyes or talk shit to other waitresses when they didnt do something right. 

“There’s a button for that ya know-”

“You didn’t tell me no onions”

“Ring it in if he wants it that way- I got too many orders to keep up with the shit you’re tellin’ me”

But he seems to be nicer to you…

“Hey Ani- could I get no tomatoes on this please”

“Sure thing, sweetheart”

“There’s my favorite girl” he says when you walk into the back. 

Some servers get jealous of his blatant favoritism (he takes longer on their orders when they’re nasty to you)

The other cooks get along with him fine

You can often find them goofing around in the back

But they think he’s waaaaay too handsome for his own good.

“Why you workin’ here when you could be on the cover of a magazine?”

“He’s here cause Skywalker’s got terrible manners and no game” another cook laughed.

“the fuck I dont” Anakin responded as the rest of the cooks all laughed along. 

His coworkers like to tease him when they see how flirty he gets when you come around. 

Nicknames include: “Pretty boy”, “player”, “heartthrob”

The heat of the appliances mixed with the rush of the night end up giving him a sheen of sweat and a warm blush to his pretty face. 

Ngl, this man would get greasy by the end of the night…

Dried food, condiments,and oils staining his black shirt

By the end of the shift he would have a lingering smell of char from the grill as well as a combined smell of all the food in the kitchen and his own musk from his sweat.

But the blend of labored scents mixed with his cheap cologne and deodorant made for an oddly enticing aroma.

You would joke with him during closing about how bad he smelled, though deep down you knew you liked it. 

“Yea, well we can’t all be in the front smelling like daisies and sunshine” he joked. 

He thought you smelled nice? You had worked a full day too- there was no way.

You insisted you didn’t smell much better than him but he shook his head, “nah princess, I could breathe you in all day”

That may have been a little creepy coming from anyone else, but it was anakin… the hottest guy in the restaurant, the talented cook, the guy you had a huge crush on. 

He’ll saunter into the back while you’re rolling your silverware and chat with you

“Ugh, I’m so ready to ge the fuck outta here” he sighs.

“Tell me about it, today has been so long” 

“Have you atleast made decent money?” 

“Yeah”

He laughs

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know why I even asked if you made good money- I should know the answer to that when talking to a girl with such a pretty face,” he says, before slipping back into the kitchen, leaving you with a heavy blush. 

He loves when you’re on ice for side work because the ice machine is right by him in the kitchen 

He likes to watch your ass as you bend down to shovel the ice- if he’s lucky he catches a glimpse of your lacy panties as they ride up your hips. 

When it’s not busy he carries the bucket for you and revels in all of your adorable “thank you’s”

His least favorite side work for you is when you are assigned to the front house because that means you’ll be spending most of the night in the dining area rather than in the back with him. 

Asks what you’re doing on your day off. 

“Probably gonna get high with some friends”

His eyes widened, “you smoke?!”

“Occasionally”

“Weren’t you the one who told me i’d be toting around an oxygen tank?” he quipped and you rolled your eyes. 

“Chill out pretty boy, I mainly just do eddies”

“And you never told me this?!” he grabbed at his heart with a dramatic expression. 

With the new info he spends the next few days working up the nerve to ask you to smoke with him sometime. 

Lucky for him, you’re closing on Saturday and so is he. 

After you check out all of the other servers and do your side work, you head to your car but Anakin calls your name before you leave the kitchen. 

He invites you to hot box in his car before you go and to his surprise you agree (you had a rough night, so why not? plus he is your crush after all)

You get into his car and unbutton your top a bit, it was hot in the restaurant today. 

He turns on the AC and steals a glance at the lacy bra you have on. 

After passing around a blunt the two of you are getting up there; maybe it’s the delirium or maybe it’s the weed, but he is looking finer than ever

you can’t help but hold the blunt between your fingers as you lean across the center console and press your lips against his

he sucks in a breath in surprise before he returns the action.

soon you’re on his lap, grinding on his growing bulge as he runs his strong hands through your hair and all along your body

tbh, you don’t even care that you have open shift tomorrow- this is worth being sleepy

[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia is Officially Ending and I'm Fucking Coping 😭

So, it was officially announced early today, June 24th, 2024, by Shueshia and mangaka, Kohei Horikoshi, that My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia will officially end in 5 chapters on Chapter 430. The last chapter will be released at the beginning of August after 10 years of publication in Weekly Shonen Jump magazine if all goes well.

I woke up to this news. I'm sitting here on my laptop typing this as a way of coping tbh. On the outside, I'm numb and stunned. On the inside, I'M SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP, MOURNING LIKE I LOST A LOVED ONE WTF 😭

*sigh* But, this was going to happen eventually. It was only a matter of when. When Horikoshi said that we would have more epilogue to cover, I thought "Maybe he'll give us 10 more chapters!" Turns out it is 6-7 chapters instead... In Horikoshi's defense, 6-7 chapters are much longer than what most mangaka have given us for epilogues to their stories. I'd rather have him give us 5 more chapters of an epilogue than rush it in 1-2. Plus, if possible, we could potentially get 19-20 pages per chapter which might be just enough to wrap everything up. And since final chapters of manga tend to be longer than usual, we could get extra pages in the last chapter to finish everyone's arcs and the story properly.

Still, it's so wild to see a series I have loved for years and have such a strong attachment to end as I am following it. I have been a part of many fandoms before and have stuck around them for years (Pokémon, Supernatural, Doctor Who, Breaking Bad, and many more), but it's not often that I've been there there to see a series come to it's conclusion. Sometimes that can turn out well (Breaking Bad) and other times I've seen it end badly (Supernatural; only read about it and it was not great. I bounced after season 13? and I am so sorry to the fandom). My Hero Academia is one of the very few series I will see through to the end.

I'm really coping here, honestly. I've been a fan of My Hero Academia since 2018. I first heard about the series randomly through the internet, but I didn't fully introduce myself to it until I listened to a cover of The Day on YouTube (I forget the artist, I'm so sorry). I thought the song was so cool and that led to me listening to more covers of MHA OPs (Peace Sign is still GOATed btw). This eventually led me to the manga and the anime where I became truly immersed in the series. I started reading the manga around the Joint Training Arc (I think) which was definitely an interesting time to read the manga because the chapters where so short due to Horikoshi dealing with health and I think moving conflicts at the time. It was still an enjoyable arc and enough to keep me interested in reading from the beginning. I want to say I started the anime around season 3?, but I started at the beginning and worked my way up from there. "Shoto Todoroki: Origin" was the episode that finally solidified my love for the series and is still my favorite episode of the series.

To say that MHA has an important place in my heart is an understatement. (⚠️Warning: very quick mention of suicide) I was very sad and depressed in the latter half of 2018. My life didn't feel like it was going anywhere and I was close to giving up entirely. (⚠️ ). Finding and loving MHA during that time honestly might have saved my life. As strange as it sounds, it was one of the few things that brought me genuine happiness at the time. I had something to look forward to every week and it was thrilling. I still remember debating whether Deku or Shoto was my favorite character. Shoto took the top spot in my heart, but Deku is a very close second 🩵💚.

Seeing MHA end is heartbreaking, honestly. I'm watching something I truly love come to an end. We'll still have the anime, movies, and spin-off series to keep us busy for the next few years, but the manga that started it all is coming to a close. It feels so, so surreal. God, is this how the Haikyuu fandom felt when it’s manga ended? My hope is that this fandom can be kept alive long after the series is over. The MHA fandom DEFINITELY has it's flaws, but it also has a lot of good in it too. I have seen incredible art and fanfics come from this fandom. I have laughed and hyped up some of the best moments of MHA with people who love it too. I know that the fandom is collectively mourning its end and I know we'll all cry bittersweet tears when it ends. If anything, I am glad to see Kohei Horikoshi end his momentous story on his own terms. I hope it ends up being one of the best manga endings in recent Shonen Jump like how Haikyuu's was. I think Horikoshi can do it. Regardless of how it ends, My Hero Academia will be one of my favorite pieces of fiction. I am really glad to be here to celebrate it.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I'd like to thank Sports Illustrated for signing me on to model in their Health and Beauty Awareness Issue. I've got to admit I didn't quite know what I was getting myself into. My agent said it was a really good opportunity and I signed on without reading much of anything.... Come to find out after I do a pretty standard bikini modeling shoot, the article written about me alongside my pics was..... very different than I'm used to. It was sort of eye opening.

They started off by describing me as an obese model with severely unhealthy breasts that weigh 30lbs each. The article went on to outline the harming effects of being as obese as me and 'letting' your breasts get so unsightly and large. I couldn't believe what I was reading as the article rattled off symptoms and health complications, describing my breasts as being 'likely full of cysts and budding tumors already', calling them cancer bags that urgently needed removal, warning any and all readers to force their big-breasted daughters, girlfriends, coworkers, etc to get their breasts reduced or removed. I swear it's a miracle I got to keep mine, kind of.

As soon as the article got published, as stated in the contract I never read, I was to be rushed to surgery. I emerged a B-Cup. My boobs were totally destroyed, basically gone. Sports Illustrated hired me a personal trainer and I lost an additional 20lbs of fat..... The next photo shoot was far more flattering, the article praising me for making positive changes for my future, like my boobs were a crippling drug addiction I kicked. The article repeatedly called them cancer bags and 'grotesque', claiming all girls above a D ought to consider getting their shameful, unflattering 'fat sacks' removed. My agent seems really happy with this gig and wants me to do more like it, even though I told him I'm kind of reluctant. He says not to worry, telling me my next job will be with Modern Romance magazine, that they're having a whole issue about getting limb amputations to please a romantic partner's fantasies. I asked how many they'd need to remove and my agent just says not to worry, that I'll look 'adorable' after I do this series of shoots. I'm kind of excited, not gonna lie.... Might be fun, plus, guys love girls that are helpless. ❤️"

[coffeedepressionsoup]

Somebody Does Love | MYG - They Meet Again

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage. This is the one where fate plays games and Sammy plays Cupid. Part 3 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 2.2k

Warnings - lil swearing, SMOKING IS INJURIOUS TO HEALTH! nothing else I can think of

Ratings - 13+

Taglist: @majiiisstuff @starlighttaek8 @yoongrace @proudnoona

A/N - I have been in some of the worst times folks. Slipped back into depression. Lost people. Learnt lessons. Still very much in love with our honey boy though. The day I wrote this was one of the very bad days and I am typing this note through my hazy glasses because of these bloody tears. Excuse the typos, and grammar errors. Do not have the energy to proofread. Please be kind. Do like, comment and reblog. Thank you! Here goes nothing.

What was he thinking? Just how drunk was he? Why is he considering going? It’s just a jacket. He has dozens of those. Yoongi nervously bounced his legs as the rest of his body sat very still on the dressing room chair. Two different brushes - no one brush and a sponge - were being lightly tapped against his face now and a pair of hands were insistently tugging at his half-wet hair trying to style it. This was the last look for a magazine cover shoot. Even as he stared straight into the mirror, he thought back to a small cat and their rescuer. 

The next hour and forty minutes passed agonisingly slow. As soon as the director announced wrap, Yoongi was up and halfway out of the satin shirt he was in. By the time he reached the dressing room, he discarded it completely. Soojin, his manager, rushed in after him and asked as he shut the door, “You are really going?”

Yoongi placed the rings and earrings he had taken off on Soojin’s extended hands and nodded as he put his own t-shirt on.

“It is too public, Yoongi-ah…” the older gentleman tried to reason one last time as he saw the other scrub his face hastily off with a few makeup removal wipes.

“How will they know?” the rapper turned around, now having completed his outfit with a cap, a sunglass and a mask.

“They know you by the shape of your head and the size of your shoulder. You really want to risk it?”

“I am not risking anything. You are driving me there,” Yoongi said with a smirk evident in his tone. 

Soojin was left looking at the open door of the dressing room that now had the stylist and a couple of other members of the crew walk in. He handed over the jewellery he was holding from earlier, bid goodbye and jogged off to his car. 

---------------------------------------------------------

You were sat at the cafe sipping on your second latte of the evening. Tapping on your screen to check the time, you let out a yawn. 6:53. Well, maybe you could excuse an hour’s delay. Weekend traffic. Maybe he overslept? As much as you were grateful to Yong-ho, you were also hoping to see his face today. There are not many things you know about him. He has a deep, soothing voice. He smells nice. He is rich enough to casually wear designer jackets. He is kind, helpful and polite. Thoughtful. He is also quite patient. And his eyes. His eyes were beautiful. Solemn but with a shine that could make someone comfortable. 

Comfortable. Why did a stranger you met for half an hour register as comfortable to you? Your phone chimed. A message from Sammy. - Done yet? “Still waiting” - Wtf

- I don’t think he will show up then - I told you it’s a perfect fit for me

- Let me keep it

You chuckled at the series of messages.

“I will wait till 7:30”

- Then meet me directly at Hajoon’s place

- I will put out food for Ash

“Thanks, man. See ya soon” You closed the chat and smiled down at your wallpaper. Ash fast asleep on Woolfie’s back. The kitten and the dog had gotten along exceptionally well. After Woolfie peed on the kitchen floor when baby Ash hissed at him from Sammy’s lap on the first night, there had been no major issues. Ash had tried once to drink from the dog’s bowl the next day and had fallen into it. You fetched her out and dried her up with a hand towel, and the rest of it, Woolfie had licked clean. That night was the first time they napped together.

---------------------------------------------------------

Yoongi sat on the floor near the sofa where Yijeong and Hoseok were playing FC24. Hoseok was leading by 3 goals. Yijeong almost threw his controller at him in frustration, as the rest of the small group around them chuckled and watched the game progress. 

Yoongi also stared at the screen but his mind wandered far away from the game and his friends. His hands absent-mindedly tugged at the inseam of his jeans. 

As Soojin pulled up in front of the cafe earlier that evening, he could feel the sweat drip down his spine inside the air-conditioned car. He stared for a few seconds at the road in front of the car before turning his head towards the cafe you had agreed to meet at. As if it was an attempt to allow himself to catch a breath and just appear cool, just in his own head. A failed attempt at that. 

Even though he turned to look at the cafe from his car seat, he had not expected you to sit right at the window from where he was parked not even 4 whole metres away. Thankfully you were facing sideways, staring at something inside the cafe that Yoongi could not see. If only you were to turn towards the window to your left, your line of vision would directly collide with the tinted window of Yoongi’s car. 

Soojin coughed lightly from beside him. Yoongi only blinked a couple of times before he shut his slightly agape mouth and swallowed the breath that he didn’t know was stuck at his throat. He saw your face move down towards the table, presumably where your phone was. Phone. Why didn’t he exchange numbers back then? He knows why. Well, he could have given Soojin’s number at least. They could arrange for a more discreet pickup. 

Fuck the pickup. Yoongi had half forgotten that this meeting was about picking up the jacket he had lent you to wrap the rescued kitten in. Sure, that was the reason he gave Soojin that morning when he said he had to make a stop after the shoot. But for the whole weekend, his head had been clouded with your face. And your cooing voice at the kitten. And your bright smile as you introduced yourself. And the smell of your perfume and/or your shampoo that encircled you.

Looking forward to Sunday evening, he felt a tightness in his chest and stomach that could have been mistaken for trapped gas. But he knew this feeling all too well. It was anticipation. He has felt it for years ahead of each show or some big live interviews. He would also feel it once for someone he used to date. But that is what is odd. 

Sunday evening was not a date. Hell, he even felt creeped out by the fact that his feelings mirrored something akin to what he would feel like in anticipation of dates. Of course, it wasn’t even his intention to turn a simple transaction meeting into a date. But he had also not expected the sleepless nights that followed meeting you. And the half-written lyrics of a song on his phone. Nor did he expect the feeling of missing somebody he had exchanged less than 20 lines of dialogue with. 

When you had asked how to return his jacket, he almost wanted to say that you didn’t need to. Luckily, even within the first second, his mind deemed it too off-handed of a statement to make and he saw the cafe logo in his peripheral vision. Before he started overthinking and/or asked to exchange numbers, he pointed at the cafe and said, “How about we meet at that cafe on Sunday evening?”

And there he was. Outside the cafe. On Sunday evening. Almost having a panic attack in the safe confines of his car.

He could walk out of the car and into the cafe. He could walk up to you and say hello. He could make small talk for a couple of minutes. He could take back his jacket and thank you politely. He could then walk back out. 

He could. But he didn’t want to.

He did not want to make small talk with you. He wanted to know how you were doing. How your days have been. If you have spent the three nights just as sleeplessly. He also wanted to know how the kitten was doing. How the two of you were getting along. If you had any other pets. If yes, how many. If all of them were getting along. If the pets had another parent. He wanted to ask you so many things and he wanted to hear you say so much.

The cafe was not at its busiest. Even from where Yoongi was, he could see a few empty tables. He drew in a deep breath and placed his fingers lightly on the door, preparing to open it. 

It was at that very moment that you turned to your left, looking out of the cafe through the window you were sitting next to. You glanced down momentarily at what presumably again was your phone and looked back out the window. 6:18. You looked at people milling around the street outside the cafe. 

But to Yoongi, you were looking right at where he was. The concept of his tinted glass windows disappeared from his comprehension as he (seemingly) held your gaze and fluttered one of his hands over Soojin’s arm, urging him to drive off. Alert as ever, the elder man started driving promptly. Yoongi “held” your gaze for as long as he could till he bumped his head against the car window, closing his eyes, inhaling and exhaling in quick succession trying to even his breathing.

He slowly slumped back down against the passenger seat of the car and unclenched the hand that he did not realise until now was clamping down on one of his knees. He stared ahead at the Sunday evening Seoul traffic, shivering a little from feeling some of his sweat dry up. Soojin turned to him at the next red light and said, “Don’t worry, Joon will understand.”

Nothing more was said in the whole car ride up to his friend’s place. Soojin dropped him off and went back to drop the car off at Yoongi’s building before heading to his own place. Yoongi had planned to drive back home with Hobi. They lived in the same building after all. 

Joon will understand. Joon will understand?Joon will not even know that the jacket he gifted his hyung last year was missing unless Yoongi told him so.

He wasn’t thinking about Joon. Nor was he thinking about the jacket. Of course, he wasn’t.

He was thinking about your slightly impatient gaze. You bun sitting lightly at the nape of your neck. Your hands that you briefly rested your face on. Your face. You. He was thinking about you. Like he had for more than than the past two days. 

He was thinking about where you were now. What you were doing. What you were thinking. What you decided to do with the jacket. If you threw it at a random trash or kept it with you. If you were cursing him. If you were complaining about him to a friend. 

He felt a cramp in his stomach that is usually indicative of nervous diarrhoea. He felt like a dick. For having stood you up, yes. But he was also disappointed at having chickened out. Maybe if he had not waited in his car at all, it would have gone over smoothly. Maybe if you hadn’t looked out at him (his general direction) he would not have freaked out. He tried to tell himself that it was too crowded. He was too tired. And not a coward because of his stupid, random, huge ass crush on Y/N Y/LN. Someone he only met for half an hour. And spent almost all of it watching her bond with a stray kitten by her side.

He looked up as he felt a slight kick on his back. He realised he was staring at a static screen and that his friends had all gathered over the pizzas that had now arrived. He had not noticed when even though he was the closest to the door. He got up and was making his way towards the rest of the group when the doorbell rang.

Yoongi stopped and turned around. He was the closest to the door after all. None of the others seemed to bother reacting to it anyway. He walked to the door and froze as he saw the person on the ring machine. He knew he was supposed to press a single button to unlock the door. He knew which button it was. But his head and his hands refused to cooperate. He stood frozen for a couple of seconds, staring at the screen in front of him, until the bell rang again.

Yoongi thought he heard this ring in a more muffled way as if it was coming from far away. 

It wasn’t until the third ring that someone else left the group, half a slice of pizza stuffed in his mouth and half in his hand walked towards the door, that Yoongi could hear everything normally again. 

“Must be Y/N,” Hajoon called out, patting Yoongi on the back, and reaching over his shoulder to open the door.

After the small beep, you walked in, almost bumping into someone’s chest.

[ratatatastic]

"you had that kind of backpass that slipped past bobby and then a few moments later you scored" EROD. EROD SWEETIE. STOP LAUGHING. STOP IT. STOP LAUGHING AT YOUR SPOUSE TEAMMATE POOR MIKKSY IS SO RED. STOP IT. PLEASE CAN WE BE SERIOUS HES GONNA ERUPT YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE STOP BEING MEAN roddy you do such a piss poor job to hide your amusement as if your hand can cover that huge ass grin that streches from here to the damn pacific

you cannot block the sun with a single finger...do not hope that your hand masks THE WAY YOU ARE CHEESIN SIR.

mikksy nodding at the "backpass" like yes yes i did do that yeah it- it almost went it. yep. in the finals of the tournament for the hardest trophy to earn. yeah most mortifying moment of my life that will be talked about for the rest of the finals can we please- *succumbs to the mortfying ordeal of having to talk about it to media* yep.

erod keeps chuffing to himself that mikksy keeps glancing at him from the corner of his eye as he tries to focus on the english being said to him i know his ears started burning BAD THEYRE PRACTICALLY RADIATORS (ears so big they become thermoregulators i learned that in natgeo magazine once ☝️) RODDY YOURE SUCH A DISTRACTION BEHAVE. BE NICE.

you know mikksy isnt so big and scary when you have a tiny man next to him laughing at his misfortune as he turns the brightest red known to man that if he stood in the middle of an intersection cars would stop

"i was going...high and lows on that one shift that- well i tried to go d to d pass..." poor mikksy trying to explain his thought process but hes stumbling through it like is the room getting hotter? i think the room is getting hotter- yeah uh d to d pass um yeah is it normal to hear the pulsating in your ears or is that a medical issue i should be worried about- ah no thats just the embarrassment isnt it. ah. yeah that would do it.

and little miss chuckles next to him is not helping at all GIRL HES TRYING TO ANSWER STOP IT

school presentation esque dynamic here... when its your turn to talk but suddenly your bestie erupts into laughter because you opened your mouth and youre like shut up SHUT UP ITS NOT FUNNY. SHUT UP. so youre trudging through it because you need a good preformance grade and just SHUT UP.

"bobby was awake so it was good for us" YES HE WAS guys its okay mikksy was being silly doing a think fast exercise and bobby passed with flying colours we love when our d gives bobby his enrichment time its important to their health as a species

rushing to say "and then the rest was nice." you mean your goal mikksy you mean your AMAZING SNAPSHOT OF A GOAL THAT FIRED UP THE WHOLE TEAM??? THAT WAS NICE YEAH IM SURE IT WAS. im gonna shake him violently please PLEASE IT WAS SUCH A GOOD GOAL IM STILL FEELING THE HIGH OF IT COME ON also roddy looking over while mikksy shrugs off his goal like it was footnote and not a big deal like yeah its nice ig... that goofy grin that damn goofy grin...babe lets try to be a little subtle here...looking at him like he hung the moon and all the stars in the sky ffs

edmonton oilers @ florida panthers game 2 postgame interview | 6.10.24 (x)

and because i love mikksy heres one of the most embarrassing moments of his career forever immortalised you go big guy <3

[dwellordream]

A British Nurse Was Found Guilty of Killing Seven Babies. Did She Do It?

Rachel Aviv, The New Yorker

“Last August, Lucy Letby, a thirty-three-year-old British nurse, was convicted of killing seven newborn babies and attempting to kill six others. Her murder trial, one of the longest in English history, lasted more than ten months and captivated the United Kingdom. The Guardian, which published more than a hundred stories about the case, called her “one of the most notorious female murderers of the last century.” The collective acceptance of her guilt was absolute. “She has thrown open the door to Hell,” the Daily Mail wrote, “and the stench of evil overwhelms us all.”

…The public conversation rushed forward without much curiosity about an incongruous aspect of the story: Letby appeared to have been a psychologically healthy and happy person. She had many close friends. Her nursing colleagues spoke highly of her care and dedication. A detective with the Cheshire police, which led the investigation, said, “This is completely unprecedented in that there doesn’t seem to be anything to say” about why Letby would kill babies. “There isn’t really anything we have found in her background that’s anything other than normal.”

The judge in her case, James Goss, acknowledged that Letby appeared to have been a “very conscientious, hard working, knowledgeable, confident and professional nurse.” But he also said that she had embarked on a “calculated and cynical campaign of child murder,” and he sentenced her to life, making her only the fourth woman in U.K. history condemned to die in prison. Although her punishment can’t be increased, she will face a second trial, this June, on an attempted-murder charge for which the jury could not reach a verdict.

Letby had worked on a struggling neonatal unit at the Countess of Chester Hospital, run by the National Health Service, in the West of England, near Wales. The case centered on a cluster of seven deaths, between June, 2015, and June, 2016. All but one of the babies were premature; three of them weighed less than three pounds. No one ever saw Letby harming a child, and the coroner did not find foul play in any of the deaths. (Since her arrest, Letby has not made any public comments, and a court order has prohibited most reporting on her case. To describe her experiences, I drew from more than seven thousand pages of court transcripts, which included police interviews and text messages, and from internal hospital records that were leaked to me.)

The case against her gathered force on the basis of a single diagram shared by the police, which circulated widely in the media. On the vertical axis were twenty-four “suspicious events,” which included the deaths of the seven newborns and seventeen other instances of babies suddenly deteriorating. On the horizontal axis were the names of thirty-eight nurses who had worked on the unit during that time, with X’s next to each suspicious event that occurred when they were on shift. Letby was the only nurse with an uninterrupted line of X’s below her name. She was the “one common denominator,” the “constant malevolent presence when things took a turn for the worse,” one of the prosecutors, Nick Johnson, told the jury in his opening statement. “If you look at the table overall the picture is, we suggest, self-evidently obvious. It’s a process of elimination.”

But the chart didn’t account for any other factors influencing the mortality rate on the unit. Letby had become the country’s most reviled woman—“the unexpected face of evil,” as the British magazine Prospect put it—largely because of that unbroken line. It gave an impression of mathematical clarity and coherence, distracting from another possibility: that there had never been any crimes at all.

Since Letby was a teen-ager, she had wanted to be a nurse. “She’d had a difficult birth herself, and she was very grateful for being alive to the nurses that would have helped save her life,” her friend Dawn Howe told the BBC. An only child, Letby grew up in Hereford, a city north of Bristol. In high school, she had a group of close friends who called themselves the “miss-match family”: they were dorky and liked to play games such as Cranium and Twister. Howe described Letby as the “most kind, gentle, soft friend.” Another friend said that she was “joyful and peaceful.”

Letby was the first person in her family to go to college. She got a nursing degree from the University of Chester, in 2011, and began working on the neonatal unit at the Countess of Chester Hospital, where she had trained as a student nurse. Chester was a hundred miles from Hereford, and her parents didn’t like her being so far away. “I feel very guilty for staying here sometimes but it’s what I want,” she told a colleague in a text message. She described the nursing team at the Countess as “like a little family.” She spent her free time with other nurses from the unit, often appearing in pictures on Facebook in flowery outfits and lip gloss, with sparkling wine in her hand and a guileless smile. She had straight blond hair, the color washing out as she aged, and she was unassumingly pretty.

The N.H.S. has a totemic status in the British psyche—it’s the “closest thing the English have to a religion,” as one politician has put it. One of the last remnants of the postwar social contract, it inspires loyalty and awe even as it has increasingly broken down, partly as a result of years of underfunding. In 2015, the infant-mortality rate in England and Wales rose for the first time in a century. A survey found that two-thirds of the country’s neonatal units did not have enough medical and nursing staff. That year, the Countess treated more babies than it had in previous years, and they had, on average, lower birth weights and more complex medical needs.

Letby, who lived in staff housing on the hospital grounds, was twenty-five years old and had just finished a six-month course to become qualified in neonatal intensive care. She was one of only two junior nurses on the unit with that training. “We had massive staffing issues, where people were coming in and doing extra shifts,” a senior nurse on the unit said. “It was mainly Lucy that did a lot.” She was young, single, and saving to buy a house. That year, when a friend suggested that she take some time off, Letby texted her, “Work is always my priority.”

In June, 2015, three babies died at the Countess. First, a woman with antiphospholipid syndrome, a rare disorder that can cause blood clotting, was admitted to the hospital. She was thirty-one weeks pregnant with twins, and had planned to give birth in London, so that a specialist could monitor her and the babies, but her blood pressure had quickly risen, and she had to have an emergency C-section at the Countess. The next day, Letby was asked to cover a colleague’s night shift. She was assigned one of the twins, a boy, who has been called Child A. (The court order forbade identifying the children, their parents, and some nurses and doctors.)

A nursing note from the day shift said that the baby had had “no fluids running for a couple of hours,” because his umbilical catheter, a tube that delivers fluids through the abdomen, had twice been placed in the wrong position, and “doctors busy.” A junior doctor eventually put in a longline, a thin tube threaded through a vein, and Letby and another nurse gave the child fluid. Twenty minutes later, Letby and a third nurse, a few feet away, noticed that his oxygen levels were dropping and that his skin was mottled. The doctor who had inserted the longline worried that he had placed it too close to the child’s heart, and he immediately took it out. But, less than ninety minutes after Letby started her shift, the baby was dead. “It was awful,” she wrote to a colleague afterward. “He died very suddenly and unexpectedly just after handover.”

A pathologist observed that the baby had “crossed pulmonary arteries,” a structural anomaly, and there was also a “strong temporal relationship” between the insertion of the longline and the collapse. The pathologist described the cause of death as “unascertained.”

Letby was on duty again the night after Child A’s death. At around midnight, she helped the nurse who had been assigned to the surviving twin, a girl, set up her I.V. bag. About twenty-five minutes later, the baby’s skin became purple and blotchy, and her heart rate dropped. She was resuscitated and recovered. Brearey, the unit’s leader, told me that at the time he wondered if the twins had been more vulnerable because of the mother’s disorder; antibodies for it can pass through the placenta.

The next day, a mother who had been diagnosed as having a dangerous placenta condition gave birth to a baby boy who weighed one pound, twelve ounces, which was on the edge of the weight threshold that the unit was certified to treat. Within four days, the baby developed acute pneumonia. Letby was not working in the intensive-care nursery, where the baby was treated, but after the child’s oxygen alarm went off she came into the room to help. Yet the staff on the unit couldn’t save the baby. A pathologist determined that he had died of natural causes.

Several days later, a woman came to the hospital after her water broke. She was sent home and told to wait. More than twenty-four hours later, she noticed that the baby was making fewer movements inside her. “I was concerned for infection because I hadn’t been given any antibiotics,” she said later. She returned to the hospital, but she still wasn’t given antibiotics. She felt “forgotten by the staff, really,” she said. Sixty hours after her water broke, she had a C-section.

The baby, a girl who was dusky and limp when she was born, should have been treated with antibiotics immediately, doctors later acknowledged, but nearly four hours passed before she was given the medication. The next night, the baby’s oxygen alarm went off. “Called Staff Nurse Letby to help,” a nurse wrote. The baby continued to deteriorate throughout the night and could not be revived. A pathologist found pneumonia in the baby’s lungs and wrote that the infection was likely present at birth.

The senior pediatricians met to review the deaths, to see if there were any patterns or mistakes. “One of the problems with neonatal deaths is that preterm babies can die suddenly and you don’t always get the answer immediately,” Brearey told me. A study of about a thousand infant deaths in southeast London, published in The Journal of Maternal-Fetal & Neonatal Medicine, found that the cause of mortality was unexplained for about half the newborns who had died unexpectedly, even after an autopsy. Brearey observed that Letby was involved in each of the deaths at the Countess, but “it didn’t sound to me like the odds were that extreme of having a nurse present for three of those cases,” he said. “Nobody had any concerns about her practice.”

…At the end of January, 2016, the senior pediatricians met with a neonatologist at a nearby hospital, to review the ward’s mortality data. In 2013 and 2014, the unit had had two and three deaths, respectively. In 2015, there had been eight. At the meeting, “there were a few learning points, nothing particularly exciting,” Brearey recalled. Near the end, he asked the neonatologist what he thought about the fact that Letby was present for each death. “I can’t remember him suggesting anything, really,” Brearey said.

But Jayaram and Brearey were increasingly troubled by the link. “It was like staring at a Magic Eye picture,” Jayaram told me. “At first, it’s just a load of dots,” and the dots are incoherent. “But you stare at them, and all of a sudden the picture appears. And then, once you can see that picture, you see it every time you look, and you think, How the hell did I miss that?” By the spring of 2016, he said, he could not “unsee it.”

Many of the deaths had occurred at night, so Powell, the unit manager, shifted Letby primarily to day shifts, because there would be “more people about to be able to support her,” she said.

A week later, a mother gave birth to identical triplet boys, born at thirty-three weeks. When she was pregnant, the mother said, she had been told that each baby would have his own nurse, but Letby, who had just returned from a short trip to Spain with friends, was assigned two of the triplets, as well as a third baby from a different family. She was also training a student nurse who was “glued to me,” she complained to Taylor. Seven hours into Letby’s shift, one of the triplet’s oxygen levels dropped precipitously, and he developed a rash on his chest. Letby called for help. After two rounds of CPR, the baby died.

The next day, Letby was the designated nurse for the two surviving triplets. The abdomen of one of them appeared distended, a possible sign of infection. When she told Taylor, he messaged her, “I wonder if they’ve all been exposed to a bug that benzylpenicillin and gentamicin didn’t account for? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, just don’t want to be here really,” Letby replied. The student nurse was still with her, and Letby told Taylor, “I don’t feel I’m in the frame of mind to support her properly.”

A doctor came to check on the triplet with the distended abdomen, and, while he was in the room, the child’s oxygen levels dropped. The baby was put on a ventilator, and the hospital asked for a transport team to take him to Liverpool Women’s Hospital. As they were waiting, it was discovered that the baby had a collapsed lung, possibly a result of pressure from the ventilation, which was set unusually high. “There was an increasing sense of anxiety on the unit,” Letby said later. “Nobody seemed to know what was happening and very much just wanted the transport team to come and offer their expertise.”

The triplets’ mother said that she was alarmed when she saw a doctor sitting at a computer “Googling how to do what looked like a relatively simple medical procedure: inserting a line into the chest.” She was also upset that one of the doctors who was resuscitating her son was “coughing and spluttering into her hands” without washing them. Shortly after the transport team arrived, the second triplet died. His mother recalled that Letby was “in pieces and almost as upset as we were.”

…Brearey, Jayaram, and a few other pediatric consultants met to discuss the unexpected deaths. “We were trying to rack our brains,” Brearey said. A postmortem X-ray of one of the babies had shown gas near the skull, a finding that the pathologist did not consider particularly meaningful, since gas is often present after death. Jayaram remembered learning in medical school about air embolisms—a rare, potentially catastrophic complication that can occur when air bubbles enter a person’s veins or arteries, blocking blood supply. That night, he searched for literature about the phenomenon.

He did not see any cases of murder by air embolism, but he forwarded his colleagues a four-page paper, from 1989, in the Archives of Disease in Childhood, about accidental air embolism. The authors of the paper could find only fifty-three cases in the world. All but four of the infants had died immediately. In five cases, their skin became discolored. “I remember the physical chill that went down my spine,” Jayaram said. “It fitted with what we were seeing.”

…After Letby returned from vacation, she was called in for a meeting. The deputy director of nursing told her that she was the common element in the cluster of deaths, and that her clinical competence would need to be reassessed. “She was distraught,” Powell, the unit manager, who was also at the meeting, said. “We were both quite upset.” They walked straight from the meeting to human resources. “We were trying to get Lucy back on the unit, so we had to try and prove that the competency issue wasn’t the problem,” Powell said.

But Letby never returned to clinical duties. She was eventually moved to an administrative role in the hospital’s risk-and-safety office. Jayaram described the office as “almost an island of lost souls. If there was a nurse who wasn’t very good clinically, or a manager who they wanted to get out of the way, they’d move them to the risk-and-safety office.”

…The Royal College team interviewed Letby and described her as “an enthusiastic, capable and committed nurse” who was “passionate about her career and keen to progress.” The redacted section concluded that the senior pediatricians had made allegations based on “simple correlation” and “gut feeling,” and that they had a “subjective view with no other evidence.” The Royal College could find no obvious factors linking the deaths; the report noted that the circumstances on the unit were “not materially different from those which might be found in many other neonatal units within the UK.” In a public statement, the hospital acknowledged that the review had revealed problems with “staffing, competencies, leadership, team working and culture.”

…In May, the police launched what they called Operation Hummingbird. A detective later said that Brearey and Jayaram provided the “golden thread of our investigation.” That month, Dewi Evans, a retired pediatrician from Wales, who had been the clinical director of the neonatal and children’s department at his hospital, saw a newspaper article describing, in vague terms, a criminal investigation into the spike in deaths at the Countess. “If the Chester police had no-one in mind I’d be interested to help,” he wrote in an e-mail to the National Crime Agency, which helps connect law enforcement with scientific experts. “Sounds like my kind of case.”

That summer, Evans, who was sixty-seven and had worked as a paid court expert for more than twenty-five years, drove three and a half hours to Cheshire, to meet with the police. After reviewing records that the police gave him, he wrote a report proposing that Child A’s death was “consistent with his receiving either a noxious substance such as potassium chloride or more probably that he suffered his collapse as a result of an air embolus.” Later, when it became clear that there was no basis for suspecting a noxious chemical, Evans concluded that the cause of death was air embolism. “These are cases where your diagnosis is made by ruling out other factors,” he said.

…Evans relied heavily on the paper in other reports that he wrote about the Countess deaths, many of which he attributed to air embolism. Other babies, he said, had been harmed through another method: the intentional injection of too much air or fluid, or both, into their nasogastric tubes. “This naturally ‘blows up’ the stomach,” he wrote to me. The stomach becomes so large, he said, that the lungs can’t inflate normally, and the baby can’t get enough oxygen. When I asked him if he could point me to any medical literature about this process, he responded, “There are no published papers regarding a phenomenon of this nature that I know of.” (Several doctors I interviewed were baffled by this proposed method of murder and struggled to understand how it could be physiologically or logistically possible.)

…Nearly a year after Operation Hummingbird began, a new method of harm was added to the list. In the last paragraph of a baby’s discharge letter, Brearey, who had been helping the police by reviewing clinical records, noticed a mention of an abnormally high level of insulin. When insulin is produced naturally by the body, the level of C-peptide, a substance secreted by the pancreas, should also be high, but in this baby the C-peptide was undetectable, which suggested that insulin may have been administered to the child.

The insulin test had been done at a Royal Liverpool University Hospital lab, and a biochemist there had called the Countess to recommend that the sample be verified by a more specialized lab. Guidelines on the Web site for the Royal Liverpool lab explicitly warn that its insulin test is “not suitable for the investigation” of whether synthetic insulin has been administered. Alan Wayne Jones, a forensic toxicologist at Linköping University, in Sweden, who has written about the use of insulin as a means of murder, told me that the test used at the Royal Liverpool lab is “not sufficient for use as evidence in a criminal prosecution.” He said, “Insulin is not an easy substance to analyze, and you would need to analyze this at a forensic laboratory, where the routines are much more stringent regarding chain of custody, using modern forensic technology.” But the Countess never ordered a second test, because the child had already recovered.

…The police consulted with an endocrinologist, who said that the babies theoretically could have received insulin through their I.V. bags. Evans said that, with the insulin cases, “at last one could find some kind of smoking gun.” But there was a problem: the blood sample for the first baby had been taken ten hours after Letby had left the hospital; any insulin delivered by her would no longer be detectable, especially since the tube for the first I.V. bag had fallen out of place, which meant that the baby had to be given a new one. To connect Letby to the insulin, one would have to believe that she had managed to inject insulin into a bag that a different nurse had randomly chosen from the unit’s refrigerator. If Letby had been successful at causing immediate death by air embolism, it seems odd that she would try this much less effective method.

In July, 2018, five months after the insulin discovery, a Cheshire police detective knocked on Letby’s door. …Inside, she was told that she was under arrest for multiple counts of murder and attempted murder. She emerged from the house handcuffed, her face appearing almost gray.

The police spent the day searching her house. Inside, they found a note with the heading “NOT GOOD ENOUGH.” There were several phrases scrawled across the page at random angles and without punctuation: “There are no words”; “I can’t breathe”; “Slander Discrimination”; “I’ll never have children or marry I’ll never know what it’s like to have a family”; “WHY ME?”; “I haven’t done anything wrong”; “I killed them on purpose because I’m not good enough to care for them”; “I AM EVIL I DID THIS.”

On another scrap of paper, she had written, three times, “Everything is manageable,” a phrase that a colleague had said to her. At the bottom of the page, she had written, “I just want life to be as it was. I want to be happy in the job that I loved with a team who I felt a part of. Really, I don’t belong anywhere. I’m a problem to those who do know me.” On another piece of paper, found in her handbag, she had written, “I can’t do this any more. I want someone to help me but they can’t.” She also wrote, “We tried our best and it wasn’t enough.”

After spending all day in jail, Letby was asked why she had written the “not good enough” note. A police video shows her in the interrogation room with her hands in her lap, her shoulders hunched forward. She spoke quietly and deferentially, like a student facing an unexpectedly harsh exam. “It was just a way of me getting my feelings out onto paper,” she said. “It just helps me process.”

“In your own mind, had you done anything wrong at all?” an officer asked.

“No, not intentionally, but I was worried that they would find that my practice hadn’t been good,” she said, adding, “I thought maybe I had missed something, maybe I hadn’t acted quickly enough.”

…After more than nine hours of interviews, Letby was released on bail, without being charged. She moved back to Hereford, to live with her parents. News of her arrest was published in papers throughout the U.K. “All I can say is my experience is that she was a great nurse,” a mother whose baby was treated at the Countess told the Times of London. Another mother told the Guardian that Letby had advocated for her and had told her “every step of the way what was happening.” She said, “I can’t say anything negative about her.” The Guardian also interviewed a mother who described the experience of giving birth at the Countess. “They had no staff and the care was just terrible,” she said. She’d developed “an infection which was due to negligence by a member of staff,” she explained. “We made a complaint at the time but it was brushed under the carpet.”

In September, 2022, a month before Letby’s trial began, the Royal Statistical Society published a report titled “Healthcare Serial Killer or Coincidence?” The report had been prompted in part by concerns about two recent cases, one in Italy and one in the Netherlands, in which nurses had been wrongly convicted of murder largely because of a striking association between their shift patterns and the deaths on their wards. The society sent the report to both the Letby prosecution and the defense team. It detailed the dangers of drawing causal conclusions from improbable clusters of events. In the trial of the Dutch nurse, Lucia de Berk, a criminologist had calculated that there was a one-in-three-hundred-and-forty-two-million chance that the deaths were coincidental.

But his methodology was faulty; when statisticians looked at the data, they found that the chances were closer to one in fifty. According to Ton Derksen, a Dutch philosopher of science who wrote a book about the case, the belief that “such a coincidence cannot be a coincidence” became the driving force in the process of collecting evidence against de Berk. She was exonerated in 2010, and her case is now considered one of the worst miscarriages of justice in Dutch history. The Italian nurse, Daniela Poggiali, was exonerated in 2021, after statisticians reanalyzed her hospital’s mortality data and discovered several confounding factors that had been overlooked.

Burkhard Schafer, a law professor at the University of Edinburgh who studies the intersection of law and science, said that it appeared as if the Letby prosecution had “learned the wrong lessons from previous miscarriages of justice.” Instead of making sure that its statistical figures were accurate, the prosecution seems to have ignored statistics. “Looking for a responsible human—this is what the police are good at,” Schafer told me. “What is not in the police’s remit is finding a systemic problem in an organization like the National Health Service, after decades of underfunding, where you have overworked people cutting little corners with very vulnerable babies who are already in a risk category. It is much more satisfying to say there was a bad person, there was a criminal, than to deal with the outcome of government policy.”

…For one baby, the diagram showed Letby working a night shift, but this was an error: she was working day shifts at the time, so there should not have been an X by her name. At trial, the prosecution argued that, though the baby had deteriorated overnight, the suspicious episode actually began three minutes after Letby arrived for her day shift. Nonetheless, the inaccurate diagram continued to be published, even by the Cheshire police.

Dewi Evans, the retired pediatrician, told me that he had picked which medical episodes rose to the level of “suspicious events.” When I asked what his criteria were, he said, “Unexpected, precipitous, anything that is out of the usual—something with which you are not familiar.” For one baby, the distinction between suspicious and not suspicious largely came down to how to define projectile vomiting.

…Toward the end of the trial, the court received an e-mail from someone who claimed to have overheard one of the jurors at a café saying that jurors had “already made up their minds about her case from the start.” Goss reviewed the complaint but ultimately allowed the juror to continue serving.

He instructed the twelve members of the jury that they could find Letby guilty even if they weren’t “sure of the precise harmful act” she’d committed. In one case, for instance, Evans had proposed that a baby had died of excessive air in her stomach from her nasogastric tube, and then, when it emerged that she might not have had a nasogastric tube, he proposed that she may have been smothered.

The jury deliberated for thirteen days but could not reach a unanimous decision. In early August, one juror dropped out. A few days later, Goss told the jury that he would accept a 10–1 majority verdict. Ten days later, it was announced that the jury had found Letby guilty of fourteen charges. The two insulin cases and one of the triplet charges were unanimous; the rest were majority verdicts. When the first set of verdicts was read, Letby sobbed. After the second set, her mother cried out, “You can’t be serious!” Letby was acquitted of two of the attempted-murder charges. There were also six attempted-murder charges in which the jury could not decide on a verdict.

…The public conversation about the case seemed to treat details about poor care on the unit as if they were irrelevant. In his closing statement, Johnson had accused the defense of “gaslighting” the jury by suggesting that the problem was the hospital, not Letby. Defending himself against the accusation, Myers told the jury, “It’s important I make it plain that in no way is this case about the N.H.S. in general.” He assured the jury, “We all feel strongly about the N.H.S. and we are protective of it.” It seemed easier to accept the idea of a sadistic “angel of death” than to look squarely at the fact that families who had trusted the N.H.S. had been betrayed, their faith misplaced.”

[amaretigris]

Knock-down, Drag-out

Taglist: @luna2034 @notagreekgal28 @mylittlemermaid221 @justagirlthatlovedtoread @daydreamerwithnohobbies @hopeisrising @freyagallileaevans

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Ch. 9 | 2k words | Fluff & smut suggestions

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The next morning, you slowly woke to sunshine, sloppy kisses, and lazy cuddles. Jonah made you eggs, bacon, and toast for breakfast. Setting a cup of coffee down in front of you, Jonah kissed your forehead before sitting down at the kitchen table with his own plate.

"So you slept well?"

You nodded with a mouthful of eggs.

"Yeah, I was pretty tired. Your mattress is like a giant pillow," you smiled.

Jonah smiled back at you, dipping his fork into his eggs.

"What'll you do today?"

"I should go see my mom again before work. I need to find out what time she's being discharged today. I don't have to be at the fitness center until nine."

You gulped down a couple sips of coffee.

"That's good. What if she asks you what you did last night?"

You grimaced for dramatic effect.

Jonah chuckled.

"I told her you were coming over, love."

You dropped your fork onto the table.

"What?"

Jonah gave you a lopsided grin before biting into his bacon.

"We're both adults. My mom has no illusions about dating. Besides, she thinks you're great."

Picking your fork back up, you looked down, picking at your food.

"So, are we dating?"

You held your breath while waiting for a response. Jonah set down his silverware, and grabbed your hand.

"I'd say so, yes. You're magnificent, (Y/N). The reason it's taken this long is because of me, not you. I want to be clear about that. I'm still not sure I deserve you, but I can try."

Your heart skipped in your chest at his words.

"I think you're more deserving than most people. Thank you for letting me in," you fluttered your eyelashes at Jonah.

The two of you finished breakfast, saying your reluctant goodbyes.

"I'll see you tonight," Jonah whispered, kissing you softly.

You hugged him tight.

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Back at the hospital for the day, you walked to Eleanor's room. You lightly knocked on the panel wall, and opened the curtain.

"Good morning. How are you feeling today?"

You walked to the side of the bed. Eleanor smiled at you, and sat up. She had glasses on as she had been reading a magazine.

"I'm ready to go home," she huffed.

"But other than that, I'm fine deary. How was your night?"

You gulped.

"It was nice. I caught up on some much-needed rest," you smiled awkwardly.

"Good. I hope the two of you had a nice time," she grabbed your hand, and patted it.

"Do you work all day today?"

You nodded, grateful for the subject change.

"Yes, and then I head to the arena tonight."

Eleanor nodded.

"It puts me at ease knowing that someone who actually cares about my son is there to watch out for him," she squeezed your hand.

You sucked in a breath. Why did that statement tug at your heart? You get the feeling that Jonah's been so focused on taking care of his mother, and she's obviously going through some health issues. Who's taking care of Jonah? Who's checking in on him? You determined that it would be you from now on.

"I'll always take care of him, Eleanor," you brought your other hand on top of hers.

You saw Eleanor's eyes light up at your words. She seemed genuinely happy.

"I know he's been ready for you to come home. What time do you get discharged?"

"They said I'll get discharge papers at 11 a.m.," Eleanor beamed.

"Wonderful. I'll text Jonah and let him know," you patted her hand before pulling away, heading for the exit.

"I'll see you again soon, dear," Eleanor chimed.

You turned to her with a smile.

"I'll see you soon."

Leaving her room, you pulled out your phone to text Jonah.

Your mom is doing great this morning. She will be discharged at 11 a.m. ❤️

Hitting send and sliding your phone back into your pocket, you waited for the rush of the day to start.

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That night at the arena, your muscles tensed every time Jonah took a hit. You shouldn't let it affect you so much, and you shouldn't be so terrible at hiding it. You hadn't exactly told people you were dating. You were a fairly private person who didn't enjoy advertising every new development in your life. You prefer to keep things to yourself and your small circle- relationships included. By the end of Jonah's fight, however, you were sure that anyone who was actually paying attention to you would've seen you flinching.

Waiting at the front desk for Jonah as you always did, a warm smile slid onto your face at the sight of him. With damp hair and his gym bag thrown over his leather jacket, you wondered how you'd ever caught the attention of someone so beautiful. Jonah walked you to the parking lot, stopping at your car. You saw that he made no move to climb into the passenger seat this time. Perhaps you were past the car hook-up phase of your relationship now. You threw your medical bag in and turned back to Jonah.

"Are you headed home to go check on your mom?"

Jonah nodded.

"Yeah, I brought her home, and cooked her food this afternoon; made sure she had everything she needed."

You let your arms come out to brush Jonah's sides.

"That's good. I'm sure she appreciates it."

Jonah wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He kissed you delicately.

"If you're off tomorrow, you could come by the house," he mentioned as he pulled away.

You bit your lip with a nod.

"Okay."

"Okay," Jonah echoed.

He flashed his adorable dimples at you, giving you one last kiss before he left.

"Good night, baby. Text me when you're home."

"You do the same," you called after him.

He replied with a cheeky grin. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you got into your car. You didn't know what the hell you'd actually do with Jonah and Eleanor tomorrow, but you were excited nonetheless.

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The next day, you drove to the house in the early afternoon. Knocking on the door, you smiled when Jonah answered and you heard him gasp at the sight of you. You were wearing your cutest summer dress, and you'd actually taken the time to style your hair and do a little makeup.

"Good morning, beautiful," Jonah motioned for you to come in.

He grabbed you for a quick kiss as you passed him. He closed the door behind you.

"You look amazing," he whispered, catching a whiff of your perfume.

"Thank you. It's nice to feel pretty sometimes," you shrugged.

"You know I always think you're pretty, but I like you in that dress. I could hike it up, and take you right now," Jonah spoke in a low voice.

His insinuation spiked your adrenaline.

"Is (Y/N) here?"

You heard Eleanor call, snapping both of you out of your bubble.

You cleared your throat, and looked in the direction of her voice.

"Yes, she is. I was just telling her how pretty she is," Jonah replied.

Pressing another kiss to your lips, Jonah grabbed your hand, and led you to the kitchen where Eleanor sat at the table.

"Oh my! You do look very pretty today," Eleanor chimed.

She moved to stand, but you quickly stepped over to hug her, keeping her in her chair.

"No need to get up for me," you smiled.

"Are you doing well today?"

You pulled the chair beside her out, tucking your skirt under your bottom to sit down.

"Yes, I'm doing well. This one won't let me move without checking on me," she pointed to Jonah.

He stood at the counter making sandwiches from the looks of it.

"I only want you to be careful, is all. You need to rest, and not push yourself," Jonah remarked.

You looked at Eleanor and nodded. Jonah turned from the counter.

"How would you like to go on a picnic with us today, darling?"

"A picnic? That sounds wonderful," you clasped your hands together.

Eleanor chuckled beside you.

"Well, aren't you adorable. I'm running to the restroom and to change before we leave," she looked pointedly at Jonah as she stood from her seat.

Jonah held his hands up innocently, watching his mother retreat to her room. Eleanor patted your shoulder as she walked past your chair. You stood up, walking over to Jonah at the counter. You looped your arms around his neck while his hands came to rest on your hips.

"I love picnics. Whose idea was it?"

Jonah smiled, brushed his fingers across your cheek.

"My mum used to take me on picnics growing up when she could afford the extra snacks. We still try to do it from time to time."

You leaned your cheek into Jonah's hand.

"That's really sweet. Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course, my love."

Jonah leaned down to kiss you again, settling his forehead against yours. You two stood like that for a moment, simply breathing in each other's air. You felt such a calm sensation with Jonah.

"Alright," Eleanor clapped her hands as she reentered the kitchen.

The sound made you jump in Jonah's arms, while he lazily looked over.

"Ah, you two lovebirds. Come on, it's a beautiful day," Eleanor smiled.

You smiled back. Jonah's arms pulled away from your waist. He turned back around to finish packing the picnic basket that you hadn't seen behind him on the counter. You helped him finish filling it while happily chatting with Eleanor. The three of you loaded up in Jonah's car, and he drove to a nearby park. Once there, you helped Eleanor climb out of the passenger seat. You grabbed the picnic basket from the back, and you and Jonah walked on either side of Eleanor, all joined by the arms.

The three of you sat at a picnic table. Jonah pulled out the paper plates and food. He settled down to eat across from you and Eleanor. You felt the sunshine soaking into your skin. It really was the perfect day for a picnic. After you all finished eating, you spent the next couple of hours walking a trail at a leisurely pace. Eleanor stopped to admire many flowers, and you pulled out your phone to take photos of her with some. She picked a bright, pink flower, and put it behind your ear.

"There. A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady," she explained.

"Okay, I have to get a picture of you two like this in front of the wildflower field. Say cheese," Jonah instructed.

Pulling up the photo on his phone while you and Eleanor looked at more flowers, Jonah smiled to himself. You looked beautiful with the flower in your hair, and his mom looked giddy beside you. He set it as his lock screen image, and slid his phone back in his pocket.

The three of you slowly made your way back to Jonah's car. Eleanor was becoming short of breath, and it was time to leave. Jonah handed her a pill to take in the car, along with her water bottle. The drive back to their house, you listened as Eleanor chatted about the flowers she'd seen today. It was relaxing.

Unloading everything into the house, you stuck around for a couple more hours before taking your leave. You hugged Eleanor goodbye, and Jonah walked you to the door. He adjusted the flower still behind your ear. It was wilting, but he thought it still looked just as beautiful on you. You pulled him in for a kiss.

"Thank you for today. I had a great time."

Jonah squeezed you to his chest.

"It's no problem. I almost don't want you to leave."

He hooked his chin over your shoulder and sulked. You giggled, gently rubbing his back.

"I know. Don't worry, I'll come over again soon."

"Or I could come to your place," Jonah stood back with hopeful eyes.

"If you want to come tour my tiny apartment, be my guest," you laughed.

"It's a date."

[the-wintershade]

sleep companions

pairing: jacob lee x reader summary: black irons is a hard place to break free from; its roughness seeps into everything. But sleep helps brush off the hard edges and allow for a tenderness found in napping. wc: 1.5k+  genre: COMFORT, soft!Jacob, a lot of fluff, napping, caring for each other!! a/n: i too am a sleepy one; hopefully, this piece brings you wonderful dreams.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

“Jacob!” His name rushes past your lips as he stumbles into you. Exhaustion steals his energy. His steps drag against the ground and his breaths are slowing.

Your arm reaches to curl around his side, pulling his armored body into your own. You try to compensate for his lack of coordination as best as you can, walking slower and leaning into him so he can prop himself against your body.

He grunts as you weave his arm around your shoulders. “Sorry,” he huffs, voice right near the shell of your ear, “I just can’t get my feet to act right.”

The last few battles between those weird mutated creatures must have worn him out. Jacob took more hits to the stomach and torso than usual in your last skirmish. You had done your best to give him as much covering fire as possible, but eventually, you were tackled to the ground and forced to concentrate on saving your own life.

You haven’t seen many of those creatures in the last hour or so. Maybe it was about time to give yourselves a break before moving on to the surface.

“Let’s rest for a bit,” you adjust your grip on his torso. There are a couple of crates in front of you. He could rest there while you count your ammo, medical supplies, and other trinkets you’d picked up along the way. “Give you a chance to sleep for a bit.”

Jacob hesitates before continuing, your momentum dragging him along. “No. I’ll be fine. We should keep going.”

“You’re not. Besides, you’re not in any condition to fight should those things come back.” You lead him over to the crates and help lower him to the ground so he can rest his back against one. “We’ll be safe here, for now. I’ll keep look-out. Go over inventory.”

You slip Jacob’s arm, originally on your shoulders, over your head. Before you can drop it into his lap, his hand curls around your arm. “Really. We should keep going.” His eyes are wide and pleading, but the corners around them droop and his gaze is slightly unfocused. 

There’s no way you should keep going. The longer you take in his features, the more relaxed his body becomes. According to your calculations, he’ll be asleep in a few seconds.

“Sleep, Jacob.” You place your hand over his hand and squeeze it. Gently, you pry it off and carefully place it in his lap before moving up to check his health status. It’s green but teeters on yellow. He’ll need a med pack before you move to fight again.

You feel his gaze as you inspect his armor. “Hey.” His call is gentle and you meet his eyes with a softness you haven’t been able to muster in a while. Between the fights and general fear for your life, there hasn’t been much room for tenderness.

Jacob takes a deep breath, letting his eyes linger closed for a moment before he opens them, looking considerably closer to dosing off. A small grin crawls onto your face. He scoffs at your new expression but a light lingers behind his eyes. “You hear anything and I mean anything,” he leans over to nudge your shoulder, “wake me up.” 

You chuckle before tapping him on the shoulder. “The world will still be here. I promise.”

“Whatever,” he grins before closing his eyes. As he relaxes, his body learns toward where you’ve perched on the crate next to him, as if instinctively wanting to be closer to you.

A small, shy smile spreads across your face as you start to count your magazines for the second time. 

…

You jolt awake, frantically brushing off clawing hands and faces with sharp teeth. They felt like they were all over you, but now that you’re looking around, you realize you are inside the lab.

Jacob said he wanted to go over some upgrades. You only remember sitting down before blinking awake, arms swinging and flailing. 

The weapon machine’s whines mix with your cries of fear. As much as it grounds you, the noises combine in an overwhelming combination of sounds and you clench your eyes shut, trying to fight through the lingering screeches of the creatures in your ear.

Jacob’s voice cuts through it all, concerned and gentle. “Hey, hey, hey. You’re alright.” You hear him getting closer, now sitting next to you, body angled toward you, his hands automatically reaching for yours. “You’ve only been asleep for a little bit. Figured you needed the rest.”

You take a deep breath and slowly open your eyes, focusing on the ground first and then on his gently determined gaze. It made your stomach warm. It made being vulnerable easier. “I saw those…things. It was like they were all over me.”

He squeezes your hands. “I get what you mean. I see them too.”

You nod, both saddened that this horror-filled place still follows you into your dreams and comforted by Jacob’s presence and admission. At least if you both have to witness deadly beings, you don’t have to do it alone.

You try to blink away the sleepiness, but it doesn’t work. You can still feel sleep’s pull.

Jacob picks up on the way your body slouches over and your responding grip on his hands weakens. “Come here,” he mumbles, wrapping his arm around your waist and drawing you into his chest. 

Your heart picks up before a sense of comfort douses any rising anxiety. His head curls into yours. His lips ghost over the crown of your hair. “I’ll be right here. Go back to sleep.”

It takes no time for your eyelids to droop closed as you relax into his torso. It’s the first time you can remember Jacob being so physically affectionate with you but you’re not complaining. You like it, being close to him like this.

Before you sleep, you register a dorky smile on your face and a feeling of gratitude that you have each other.

You don’t have any more dreams of creatures. 

…

You’re on the tram, traveling between the colony and the inner lab. Wind rushes past as you sit with your back against a stack of boxes. They buffer the wind while your blinks start to slow into sleep. 

Absentmindedly, you register the cut along your cheek but you don’t think much off it. Your body is too tired to worry about wounds right now.

Jacob’s hands against your shoulders and cheeks slowly close your eyes as you absorb his tenderness. His thumb ghosts along your cheek as he tilts your head.

“You look alright. We’ll see what they have back at the lab to cover that.” Jacob sounds focused but you know he’s as drained as you are. Another stint with the creatures always does this. The only difference is this was the longest battle you’ve had yet, and there was one much larger than the rest this time.

It took almost everything you both had to beat them all.

Your eyes flutter open before you muster a weak smirk. “You look as tired as I feel,” you mumble, reaching up to grasp his arm before tugging him over near you.

He crawls so he’s next to you, resting his shoulder against yours. A painful grunt echoes off the box as he tries to get into place. You keep ahold of his arm, sliding your hand down to interlace yours with his.

Your squeeze is answered by him. A relaxed breath slips through his nose as his grip carefully tightens. 

“We should rest for a little while.” You whisper, already starting to lean your head toward his. To your pleasant surprise, your head brushes against his less than halfway. He must have been leaning toward you already. 

You feel him rest his cheek against your head, bringing your joined hands closer to him. “Yeah, good idea.”

“Jacob?” He adjusts his head so his cheek brushes tenderly against your head. 

He hums, “Yeah, (name)?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

“Yeah — yeah, of course. And thank you. You know, when we get out of here, let’s make sure we sleep on some actual mattresses.”

You chuckle and his giggles blend with yours. “Sure. But we have to sleep near each other. Just to make sure we hold up our side of the bargain.”

“Of course. I mean, that’s only fair. Have to make sure everything’s been honored.” 

You blush and shake your head, leaning into him further. You knew just as well as he did that the chances of you getting out were slim, but you also knew that you would not sleep nearly as well if he wasn’t there with you, right near you. Somehow, you think that Jacob thought about the same.

…

After a few years of being separated, fighting your way around other planets and new people, your paths meet again. For a minute, it’s awkward and you both stumble over words, but soon, it’s like you both were never separated.

And you get that nap. Together. Except, instead of separate beds, you both lay near each other, facing each other’s chest. 

Jacob reaches out first, an arm tentatively wrapped around your waist before drawing you gently closer until your hands are curled against his chest. He presses his cheek into your head as before and you press your nose into his collarbone.

You sigh and feel his smile as he does the same.

Finally. 

[winderlylandchime]

I’ve seen you every once in a while mention your partner and I was wondering if you could (would want to?) tell us a bit about them/you guys? Obviously by still being as much private as you’d like to be. Swear this is not meant in a creepy way but more in a ‘awww’ type of way because they sound like a very lovely person through the little moments you’ve shared. But also if you don’t want to, that is completely understandable :)

Oh dear sweet anon! Thank you for this question. I am happy to share a bit about me and my spouse and our relationship. I’m very proud of them and who we are as a couple. It hasn’t always been easy and we have been in couple’s therapy at difficult points in our relationship. But for now I’m just going to gush. Sappy shit under the cut.

My spouse and I met in graduate school. They’re older than me but a year (kinda) behind me in school. We bonded over a shared love of music and values around social justice. Plus they are a hottie and the funniest person I know. As a result, we are both in the same field - I work primarily in the applied part of the field and they teach. Since the pandemic, they teach from home so I get to hear them lecture whenever I’m not in an appointment during their class. Um, hi, they are so talented and also the best professor.

We have been together for 16 years (17 next January). We were engaged after a year and a half together but (if you’re doing math) that was in 2008 and we had plans to move to CA but then Prop 8 passed so we had to wait until it was overturned (as well as DOMA - I don’t know if many people know this but things like health benefits got taxed at the federal level as part of income so when we were still struggling financially and domestic partners, we couldn’t shared insurance because it would have bumped us into another tax bracket). So we have been married 9 years (we didn’t immediately rush to get married as our eldest nieces had just been born and we wanted our siblings to be able to come to the wedding). Anyway! That’s the time line.

We love many of the same things. We watch most of the same TV shows and movies and we do so together. There is A LOT of pausing so we can Seriously Discuss what is happening on the screen. Together, we love Brooklyn Nine Nine, Schitt’s Creek, Drag Race (and going to live drag shows!), Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, Heartstopper. And pretty much all the fandoms you see me scream about on here.

Queer As Folk. When I met my spouse, I hadn’t fully identified my sexual orientation. I came out as lesbian and then queer as part of being with them. When I met them, they had a chubby one-eyed cat named Kinney. Their walls were decorated with cut outs of Gale Harold from magazines. They had watched most of QAF as it aired (you know the scene in the bar where they’re watching Gay as Blazes? that was their experience watching QAF). So immediately, they sat me down and had me watch the show. They gave me a kitten for our first Christmas together and I named him Emmett. I did a rewatch in 2018 (?) and remembered that fanfiction exists and the rest is history. Unlike many couples, my spouse fully knows I read and write fanfiction. They have read some of my fanfiction and enjoy it. They think I’m talented and that I should write book (?). They buy me candy to eat when I’m writing, they let me close up for hours on end to write.

During the pandemic, we spent every day together in our apartment and we did so for longer than most folks. I have mentioned that they have a chronic pain condition and it appears to be autoimmune in nature and I have a heart condition so we’ve been especially careful (we haven’t totally avoided getting COVID which goes to show how transmittable it is). During lockdown, they also pursued top surgery and came to the non-binary identity (we’re in our 40s, identities are understood now that we didn’t have words or options). I think we became even closer during this time. I can honestly say, my spouse is my very best friend and also the cutest non-binary-bunny.

All the sappy stuff I can’t stand in fic? Tons of I love you’s, tons of (non-canon) nicknames? Ugh I make myself a little sick with how much we do all that. (Btw that is an individual fic preference)

It’s not to say we don’t have problems and we don’t argue. Of course we do. But overall they’re the best and I’m super lucky and we have worked hard to get here. Everyone who wants a partner in life should be so damn lucky.

[iamvegorott]

Meeting A Magical Man Pt. 12

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

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“Sugar!” Robbie cheered as he ran into the house, holding up a bucket of ice cream. Henrik followed him in, getting bumped by the door. He could not get the door himself due to holding multiple grocery bags. 

“Robbie, you were supposed to hold the door,” Henrik grunted. 

“Sorry!” Robbie rushed back over and grabbed the door so Henrik could walk in easily. 

“It is all right. You got a little excited there.” Henrik chuckled. 

“Did you bring the whole store with you?” Mavin asked with a laugh as Chase went over to grab one of the bags. 

“I wanted to be sure I had a good variety. According to this one article I read in Faze, it said that after a heartbreak, it is customary to eat an excess of sugar and talk poorly of men in general.” Henrik said, heading over to the couch and unpacking what he had bought. There were gummies, chocolates, hard candies, weird candies Chase didn’t know how to describe, and some he had never seen before. 

“Faze? Isn’t that a teen girl magazine? We’re grown men Henrik, and I’m not heartbroken.” Marvin scoffed, and Chase did notice how his eyes widened and immediately grabbed one of the sleeves of Oreos and helped himself to the cookies.

“Aren’t you usually yelling at me for eating too much sugar?” Chase asked with a chuckle as he grabbed a bag of sour gummy worms. He and Marvin sat on the couch, watching Henrik take out more treats. Now there were boxes with labels that Chase had no idea what they meant and looked too fancy for his budget. 

“A night of enjoyment will not ruin your health.” Henrik paused his unpacking when he looked at Robbie. “Oh dear, you need a spoon, not your hand.” 

“I’m good,” Robbie said, sucking the chocolate from his fingers. Chocolate was also all around his lips.

“You are such a mess.” Henrik chuckled and pulled out a package of wet wipes. 

“Is the kid sticking around?” Marvin asked as Henrik cleaned Robbie up. 

“He will not. I am letting him get a treat in, and then he will head to a friend’s house for the night. I do not think he will be growing spontaneously anymore, and I feel confident in him spending time at another’s home. Coworker’s child.” Henrik added the last part when he could tell Chase wanted to ask. “She will be over to pick him up very soon.” 

“Thank God,” Anti said as he appeared in the room, sitting on Chase’s lap with his feet on Marvin’s. 

“I-uh-hi?” Chase’s instinct kicked in, and he held Anti’s waist with a hand to ensure he didn’t fall.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Marvin asked, shoving Anti’s feet off of him. 

“Oh yeah. Took a fat nap on your bed.” Anti wrapped an arm around Chase’s neck. “It’s sad you didn’t go through with that ‘giving head’ comment. Could have made it a very fun threesome~” He walked his other hand up Chase’s chest. 

“There is a child present.” Henrik grabbed a nearby spray bottle for the plants and sprayed Anti.

“Fine, fine.” Anti waved a hand and suddenly went from Chase’s lap to one of the chairs. “Better?” He scrunched his nose at Henrik. 

“I need-I need to uh-I need the bathroom.” Chase awkwardly got up and left the room. 

“He’s gonna rub one out,” Anti stated. 

“Stop that!” Henrik scolded and sprayed Anti again. 

“I’m just being honest.” Anti tried to slap away the water. “I’m wearing skinny jeans. So I was able to feel everything, and I mean everything.” He looked at Marvin and grinned. “Marvin sure is lucky.”

“Robbie, I think your ride is here.” Henrik sprayed Anti one more time before walking Robbie to the front of the house.

“Don’t take too long, Daddy~” Anti giggled, quickly ducking to avoid the spray bottle Henrik tossed at him. He giggled some more and returned his attention to Marvin. “Since you aren’t dating Chase, surely you don’t mind if I take him for a ride, do you? That grip he had on my waist tells me he’d be a lot of fun.”

“I don’t care,” Marvin said through a mouth filled with Oreos, hunched over a bit as he ate. 

“Really? Because you’re never one to stop caring about manners unless you’re upset.” Anti grabbed a Lemonhead, opened the wrapping, and popped the sour candy into his mouth. “Reminds me of when I told Jackie he had great abs, and you looked like you wanted to tear my eyes out.” Marvin refused to react, continuing to eat the cookies instead. “So you’re not going to deny your jealousy?” 

“I am not jealous,” Marvin stated flatly.  

“Sorry about that. Did I miss anything?” Chase asked as he came back into the room. 

“Nope. But I do have a question for you.” Anti bounced to his feet, and he went over to Chase. 

“What’s up?” Chase hadn’t noticed the tension in the room and definitely didn't notice it when Anti wrapped his arms around his neck and moved in close, practically pressing their bodies together. 

“Are you free this weekend, darling~?” Anti’s voice had changed. His tone and the way he spoke sounded different than how he naturally did. Chase didn’t pick up on that. It didn’t click that he was speaking the exact way Marvin does.

“Am I-Am I free?” Chase thickly swallowed and looked to Marvin as if aiming that question at him. Marvin turned his own gaze away. He sat down the now empty sleeve of cookies and grabbed one of the boxes of assorted chocolates. “Yeah. I am.” Chase smiled at Anti, a small, almost shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up Friday night at six. Dress nice.” Anti poked the tip of Chase’s nose, and he let his arms drop as Henrik rejoined them. 

“What did I miss?” Henrik asked. 

“Just setting up some plans.” Anti returned to the collection of treats and opened up one of the boxes, seeing chocolate-covered strawberries. “You were always a fan of these, Henny.” He said as he picked up one. 

“I don’t get the whole chocolate-covered fruit thing,” Chase said, trying to bring the mood back, finally catching on to the weird feeling in the air.

“Have you ever had one?” Henrik asked. “They are always tasty.” 

“I haven’t. Never really thought I’d like it.” Chase shrugged. 

“Oh, chocolate makes everything taste better.” Anti went back to Chase with a strawberry. “It makes it all so much more fun. Maybe we can give it a try Friday~” He whispered the last part and popped the treat into Chase’s mouth, giggling when his cheeks went pink. “I should go. See you guys later.” Anti did a little wave and winked at Chase before snapping his fingers and disappearing. 

“What in the world was that all about?” Henrik asked. 

“What else did that magazine say to do?” Marvin quickly asked before Chase could say anything since he was finishing up the strawberry. He found himself liking it a lot. 

“Um…it said things about face masks and painting nails?” 

“Nails. Perfect. I have polish.” Marvin snapped his fingers, causing nail polish to appear, but it came in as a ball in the air and landed on the empty chair, clanking together but thankfully not breaking. “We can give you a clear coat if you don’t want a color, Chase.” 

“I don’t mind a color. Do you have green?” Chase asked with his classic, goofy grin that made Marvin smile back, shoulders relaxing. 

“I have so many shades of green.” Marvin giggled and got up, waving a hand over the chair. The polish bottles moved on their own again, sitting upright and organizing themselves by color. “Sparkles or no sparkles?”

“Surprise me.” 

“Dangerous choice.” Marvin hummed playfully and picked up a bottle before guiding Chase to sit on the couch with him. 

“I think sparkles may be too much for me.” Henrik chuckled, grabbing himself a strawberry and munching on it as he sat on the other side of Chase on the couch. 

“We’ll make sure you look stunning, Hen.” Marvin gestured with the nail polish brush as he spoke. 

“I am more than sure that you will.” 

----------

Tags: @brokentimewatch @bookwormscififan @d-structive @rainymae523

[lildevyl]

Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic, Chapter 12: Tubbo, You're Going!

Summary: Tubbo gets his letter from the Esempi Tech School. Tommy tries to figure out how they are going to pay the rest of the tuition.

TW: I don't think there's any in this chapter!

A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter and this focuses more on some Character Development with the Bench Trio. So, I'm trying really hard to start writing again and I do apologize for the long a waited wait for the next update! Will try to write some more chapters before school starts then try to update when I can!

Enjoy the story! HAPPY CREATING!

(Bench Trio Apartment)

Things at the house between Tommy and his best friends/roommates have been tense.  Tubbo kept checking his phone as if he was expecting a call of some sort.  At first, Tommy thought that it was a client that had hired Tubbo to make them something for the up-and-coming Robot Wars.   But the way Tubbo was acting it didn’t seem like that was it at all and there was no way that Tubbo would be this tense or worried about work.  So something clearly was bugging Tubbo but every time Tommy brought it up, it was met with a flimsy excuse or another until Tommy dropped the subject altogether.

Ranboo wasn’t doing much better.  Ranboo kept up with the news more often than he usually did.  Normally, Ranboo would just turn on the news station to see what the weather was going to be like or just catch the morning show that he loved so much.

But recently Tommy noticed that Ranboo has not only been keeping an eye on the news channels but also any sightings relating to the Syndicate.  Including the app that was preloaded on every phone on the Heroes & Villains Alert.  It was strange, Ranboo never showed a huge amount of interest in the Heroes and Villains before.  So why the sudden change?

It had been over a month since Tommy healed Siren and Tommy gave them his number.  So far nothing.  No phone calls, no text messages, nothing.  Tommy allowed himself to relax after about a week of silence.  He still had a lot of fun at the Café with Wilbur and occasionally Techno would come in too.  Tommy loved to banter with Wilbur and Wilbur had no problem in talking with Tommy about anything and everything.  Tommy still smiled when he remembered their encounters.  It was special to him.

As Tommy went through his daily routine of getting ready for the day during this late morning.  Tommy decided to head down and check the mail.  Junk mail, junk mail, a letter for Tubbo, junk mail.  A new restaurant called Vulpes just opened up and was having its grand opening.  Junk mail, a letter for Ranboo from work, a letter to Tommy from work, bill, bill, rent’s due soon, a catalog and magazine for Tubbo.

Tommy didn’t really pay much attention to the mail as he sorted it.  When he was done he just took his letter from work and began to read it and a smile appeared on his face.  Tommy would be eligible for benefits here soon!  Great!  He could easily sign up for Health Insurance and will really help them out in the long run! Checking his watch, Tommy saw that he had some time to grab a quick lunch before he had to head out.

(Bad’s Café)

The Café was buzzing with people!  People came to get their coffees straight from work, and the evening crew got their caffeine before heading out.  School kids came in to hang out with their friends before school started in about a month.  College and Tech stunts piling in and getting their favorite snacks before heading off and grabbing their dorm rooms.  Tommy honestly didn’t mind it.  He loved the busy rush between afternoon and evening.  It made the time go by faster and if he was lucky.  Tommy would be able to get out a bit early.

The mad rush soon died down, and Tommy was finally able to breathe for a bit and have a little fun bantering with Wilbur.  Right now, he was currently in a debate with Wilbur about, believe it or not, sand.  Sand!

“Oh, my Primes!  Wilbur!  You eat sand?!”  Tommy exclaimed, hoping he heard the brunette wrong.

“What’s wrong with sand?  It’s crunching, it’s nice, it’s good.”  Wilbur explained like he was talking about the weather and not eating sand.

The two went back and forth for a while on this topic before the doorbell chimed again and in walked a solemn-looking Tubbo and a concerned-looking Ranboo.  Tommy stopped his banter with Wilbur when the two walked in to give a heartfelt greeting and was suddenly concerned when he saw the look on Tubbo.  Tubbo and Ranboo grabbed a seat at a nearby corner table and Tommy quickly excused himself to see what was up with his two roommates.

Tubbo and Ranboo rarely came to the Café when Tommy was working.  They stopped by every now and then and Tommy had no problem with it.  What concerned Tommy though was just how down Tubbo looked when the two came in.  Tommy walked over to the two with drinks in hand.  Tommy knew their orders by heart and Tubbo looked like he could use a pick-me-up.

“What’s wrong Tubbo?”  Tommy asked when he came over and set the drinks on the table.

“Take a look,” Tubbo said, gesturing to the letter on the table.

Uh oh.  Did Tubbo get rejected from one of the Tech Schools he applied to?  Tommy hoped not but the chances are that that’s probably why Tubbo’s so bummed.  Tommy picked up the letter and began reading it.

“ Dear Mr. Tubbo Underscore,

We appreciate you applying with us here at Esempi Tech School.  And would like to congratulate you on getting in. ”

Tommy read the first line and practically threw himself at his friend.

“Tubbo!  You got in!”

“Keep reading Tommy, it gets worse.”

Confused, Tommy continued.

“ We looked over your application and you requested financial coverage. We would like to inform you although you did not qualify for the full scholarship. You have been approved for a partial scholarship.  If you can cover the rest of the tuition we will be seeing you this fall! ”

The rest of the letter talks about sign-in dates, orientation, dorm rooms, and how everything you needed, including a food budget for groceries and/or lunch specials would be provided.  Along with all the materials including textbooks and the materials that would be used in the labs.  Then Tommy saw the bill that they had to pay and understood why Tubbo was so stressed.

Five thousand dollars.  That’s the part that they had to pay.  Tubbo was able to get a particle scholarship and all that was owed was five thousand dollars.  To some that wouldn’t be a problem but for someone like them?

“Tubbo,” Tommy said after a few minutes of reading the letter.  “You’re going.”

“But Tommy!”  Tubbo tried to protest.  “Five thousand dollars?!  You might as well make it fifty thousand dollars!  There’s no way we can afford that!  Let alone find a way to pay for it!”

“Tubbo,” Tommy grabbed Tubbo’s hands making the brunet look at him.  “You’re going!  You’ve been dreaming of going to this school since you were thirteen.  You’ve been applying and trying to get into Esempi Tech School for the last two years, Tubbo.  You’re going!”

“H-how?  We can barely afford, spending money for Birthdays and Holidays as it is.  How are we going to afford something that’s three months' rent!”

“Tubbo, you’re worth it.  We’re going to find a way, trust me.  You’re going!  This has been your dream, Boss Man.  I’m not going to let you throw it away.”

Tubbo gave a small smile.  Hey, Tommy will take that as a win.  Tommy had to head back and return to work now that a few more customers started to come in.  Tubbo and Ranboo finished up their drinks before they went back to their apartment.  Tommy looked around the Café and he didn’t see Wilbur anywhere.  Huh, that’s strange where did Wilbur disappear to?  Shrugging his shoulders thinking that Wilbur probably ducked out when he was busy with Tubbo and Ranboo and headed back behind the counter.

It was an hour left before closing and Tommy was starting his closing routine a bit earlier than usual seeing as how slow they were.  Tommy kept going back to the conversation before with Tubbo and Ranboo.  How were they going to afford that?  Tubbo has been trying to get into the Esempi Tech School for over two years now.  Working on his application, on his resume, and his portfolio.  Tubbo even sent in some How To Videos showing how he built some of the Robots he got commissioned for.  And some gadgets too.

Ever since Tommy met Tubbo, he had been planning on going to the Esempi Tech School and then being the Lab Assistant to the Warden.  Tubbo can try to hide it all he wants, but Tommy can still tell that Tubbo is still a big fan of the Warden.  Tubbo’s opinion of the Heroes might have changed over the years. But that gleam in Tubbo’s eyes when he gets started on some contraption that Tommy couldn’t even pretend to follow along.

Yeah, Tommy was going to make sure that Tubbo got into his dream school so he can get his dream job.  Now the question was, how?  How was Tommy going to find the money to help pay for Tubbo’s tuition?  The answer came to Tommy when he took his phone out and was about to open up his Spotify App.

Tommy completely forgot that he had it on the L’Manburg News when he was scrolling through the free apps.  There on the front page was the most recent report of a Villain sighting.  Erinyes.  Tommy saved Erinyes and gave Orcus and Siren his number if they ever needed a Healer.

The Syndicate said that they owed Tommy two favors and Orcus did say they could offer him protection and money.   Money that Tommy could use to pay for Tubbo’s tuition.  Money that Tommy could use to help get a better apartment for the three of them and to pay for Tubbo’s tuition!

Now, the question was, how did Tommy get a message to the Syndicate about wanting to cash in that favor or at least possibly talk about being their Healer?

****

Tagging: @weirdmixofweirdness, @nightfuryobsessed, @ashedflower, @ghostsknewmynights, @luna-moonblood, @tracobuttons, @isa-ghost, @m4delin, @a-humble-narcissus

****

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1: Head Wound Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 2: Nuke and Ender Tumblr Here A03 Here

Chapter 3: Some New Faces Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 4: Some New Places Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 5: Unexpected Visitors Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 6: Getting Help Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 7: Group Home Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 8: Michael's Birthday Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 9: Tommy's Healing Power Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 10: On Patrol Tumblr Here AO3 Here

Chapter 11: Attempted Kidnapping Tumblr Here AO3 Here

[graceandfamily]

ALS signed “Grace,” two pages both sides, 6 x 7.5, personal letterhead, September 2, 1978. Letter to Gwen regarding flowers, a photo shoot and other matters. In part: “Am rushing to get off to Rome this afternoon…What bad luck you have had with health this year…I hope all will soon be well & that you will be feeling perky & strong. Sister Meinzad’s story is very nice & interesting but I don’t think it is for us. Do we really want to get into trees? If so it means so many other things. I do think the magazines exaggerate on the amount of photos they want—The book is on flowers & not on me! I was not happy with the first pics I had taken & did some others this week. I should be able to send them off next week—Hopefully one will be right for the cover…Rocazel has been beautiful—lovely warm sunshine—soft days—our fruits & vegetables have been marvelous. Have just had the visit from one of my nieces with husband & three boys—aged 10-11-12—The trampoline had a good work-out!…I think of you often especially when nibbling a zucchini flower.” Under her signature, Grace adds a brief postscript: “Caroline was in school with Forte’s daughter.”

[ilkajanka]

10 Brain Health and Fitness New Year's Resolutions: Train Your Brain

Let me suggest 10 New Year's Resolutions that will help you make 2024 a year of visit site here Brain Health and Fitness, based on three key guidelines for brain health: the need for novelty, variety and challenge.

You have survived the 2023 shopping and eating season. Congratulations! Now it's time to shift gears and focus on 2024…whether you write down some New Year resolutions or contemplate some things that you want to let go of from last year and set intentions and goals for this year - as is a friend's tradition on the winter solstice.

To summarize the key findings of the last 20 years of neuroscience research on how to "exercise our brains", there are three things that we can strive for: novelty, variety and challenge. If we do these three things, we will build new connections in our brains, be mindful and pay attention to our environment, improve cognitive abilities such as pattern-recognition, and in general contribute to our lifelong brain health.

With these three principles of brain health in mind - novelty, variety and challenge - let me suggest a few potential New Years resolutions, perhaps some unexpected, that will help you make 2024 a year of Brain Health and Fitness:

2024 Primaries and Elections: If you haven't yet done so, register to vote - active participation is good for your brain health. But, before rushing out to vote, take some time to think through the criteria you want to set up to evaluate who deserves your vote. Don't let politicians and their spin doctors set your agenda. Ask yourself, what matters most to me? What type of President do I think we need? Why? I personally find it quite intriguing that no candidate so far is resurrecting the "It is the economy, stupid" mantra, and proposing solid plans to get our economy back on track.

Next time out shopping: Don't let advertisers treat you as if you were Pavlov's Dog - remember the dog that was trained to salivate automatically every time a bell rang. There is a whole industry out there trying to make you buy stuff on impulse. Notice your reactions to a movie trailer or a TV ad Resist. Be the true "Decider". For bonus points, once you learn to identify and manage your own buying impulses, try explaining this to your kids…

Reading habits: If you usually read non-fiction, try something new this season. Pick up a good fiction book. Or vice versa. For bonus points, subscribe to or simply read a new magazine, perhaps one that your partner craves? It will help you understand another perspective.

Learn about the Brain: Pick up one of the books in the Science section in your bookstore. In the unlikely scenario that you read as many brain-related books as I do, pick up some Russian poetry book and let's discuss this instead.

At work: Find, or create, an intellectually and socially stimulating new job for yourself at your current workplace or a new one. Engaging work has been shown to contribute to lifelong cognitive performance. At the very least, go out of your way to make whatever job you have more stimulating: try talking to a new colleague or client everyday and learn a new thing about them. You will not remember everything, but surely more than if you don't even try.

Gratitude vs. the Subprime mess: With increasing coverage of economic woes, the subprime mess, recession risk, the falling dollar and a ballooning deficit, it is easy to lose perspective and become depressed. Which doesn't help anyone, much less our brains. To put things in perspective, it pays off to devote some time to keep a Gratitude Journal and simply scribble a few notes a day. For bonus points: do this while you are watching TV news and share your notes with your partner.

Cultivate your Critical-thinking abilities: Ask yourself, "Where is the evidence?" at least once a day - see points 1&2 above. Don't just believe this article. Even if it had been endorsed by 20 Harvard Medical School researchers and doctors, nothing substitutes your own brain in action. And the more you practice, the more you refine your judgment.

Participate in creating a better environment. Our planet, our families, our communities, our schools, all can benefit from our help. What project do you care enough to commit some of your time to in 2024? If you have school age kids, have you considered joining the school board?.

Computer-based programs: With the growing number of "brain training" products, you may be thinking of giving one a try, either for you or for a loved one. As mentioned in point number 2 above, it makes sense to do some research before making a purchase.

Where to start? OK, now you have read many suggestions, resolve to keep at least one of them…which one will you choose?.