#Wearhouse Shifting

[foxaftershocks]

First off I wanna say I love your writing!

So basically the read would of had been haunted by the ghost of their childhood best friend after the had accidentally coursed their house to catch on fire (they would been 5 when this happened) and every since they have been trying to find a way to help them move on, especially since the friend does not understand that the fire was an accident. they have by some miracle kept this a secret from everyone but after they get called to a abandoned wearhouse the secret is revealed, the friends ghost tries to hurt the reader after separating them from the group but lars manages to save them and fianlly they come clean about it all.

I hope how I've formatted this makes sense:)

Thank you!!!! It made total sense and I really hope you like what I did with it.

Fog was rolling across the huge expanse of the floor. It didn’t feel real, like a movie set with the shadows and the fog and the swinging chains as you passed. Your heart was hammering in your chest, loud in your ears. Your breaths were unsteady and you could feel yourself tremble in the cold air. Gripping your proton gun harder, you took a hesitant step forward.

“Careful,” Lars said, a large hand closing over your shoulder.

“This isn’t my fist rodeo,” you said, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He was staring at something in the distance, squinting behind his glasses. You tried to see what he was looking at but it was all roiling shadows and darkness reaching out. Or maybe that was what he was looking at so intently.

“Alright, you guys take upstairs and we’ll sweep down here,” Callie said, turning her head as she took in the whole abandoned warehouse.

On quiet footsteps, you and the younger Spenglers made your way up to the upper levels of the warehouse, peering down into the wide expanse below you. The teenagers peeled off, leaving you with Lars to prowl through the offices.

You’d been with the Ghostbusters for a few months now, having shown up on their doorstep one day demanding a job. Your experience with ghosts got you through the door, your refusal to say no keeping you. And yet guilt dogged your every step.

You hadn’t told anyone why you were so desperate to work with them. Your late nights were less about your passion for the Ghostbusters and more about your need to find answers. Answers you thought only they would have.

Lars’ shoulder brushed against yours, walking beside you towards the first door. Maybe there was another reason you wanted to stick around too.

“Ladies first,” he said, motioning to the door for you.

“Coward.” You smirked at him.

You pushed the door open, gun raised, sweeping the room. He followed behind, watching your back, calculating gaze investigating the shadows. Checking under the desk, you let out a relieved breath.

The call had come in the middle of the night. Weird noises and ghostly spectres in the warehouse. Loud noises had been scaring the night watchmen in the area, a few even quitting after being chased from the building. Being awoke in the night, groggy and unsure, Callie telling you to gear up, was hardly normal and yet it was hard to hate it. Excitement around every corner and all that.

“Clear,” you said.

You straightened, taking a step back from how close he was. You hadn’t been expecting it, thinking he was on the other side of the room. A hand shot out, grasping your elbow before you could lose your balance.

“Next room?” he asked.

“Sure.”

You only got a few steps before you heard something shifting in the darkness at the end of the hall. A flash of a familiar face faded into the shadows. Your heart stumbled before pounding hard against your ribs. Taking a deep breath, you schooled your features.

“How about you do this room and I’ll do the next one and then we’ll be done in half the time,” you suggested to Lars.

“We’re not meant to split up,” he said, “in case something happens.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Don’t you want to get out of here quicker?” you asked.

He considered you for a moment before he gave a slow nod.

“I’ll only be next door. Scream if you get attacked,” you said.

He rolled his eyes but you could see the way he was trying to suppress a smile. You waited until he’d slipped through into the next room before high tailing it down the hall on tip toes. Gaze darting around the hall, you tried to find her.

“Lizzy,” you hissed, trying to stop any of the other Ghostbusters from hearing you, “I know you’re here.”

An echoing giggle lured you further, chasing a ghost. Darting from shadow to shadow, gun held in your hand, you hoped this would be the time you could finally help her move on. It had taken so long to realise that when you saw Lizzy and no one else could that it was because she wasn’t really there. Your parents had been so worried when you insisted Lizzy wasn’t dead because you could see her, standing at the end of your street or following you around school.

Eventually, after the first time she’d scared you, you realised something wasn’t right. That your parents had been right. That she had died that awful night and you were being haunted by her ghost. That she wouldn’t move until you could help her.

Another giggle drew you further into the shadows. This was your chance. You’d spent months working with the Ghostbusters and this was the first time she was letting you get close again. You could help her. She could move on if she would only get a chance.

At the end of the hall, the familiar figure of Lizzy floated, a few inches above the floor. She looked exactly the same as she had that night, a young girl, caught in amber, nothing but a memory torn from your childhood. You took a shuddering breath in.

“Lizzy,” you breathed.

On hesitant footsteps, you approached. Any time you’d gotten close to her, she’d erupted in anger, always ending with you cowering in a corner, begging her to leave you alone. But you were stronger now. You were better. You could fix this.

“Hi,” she said in that sweet little girl voice that was burned into your brain, “this place is kinda scary.”

“That’s okay. I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen to you,” you said.

“But something already has happened to me,” she said, so matter of fact.

Your breath froze in your chest, the air growing colder again. You held out a hand to her, wanting her to trust you. Wanting her to believe you.

“I’m so sorry, Lizzy. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

A few more steps towards her and you thought you might freeze. It was so cold and every drag of breath hurt. And yet the hope kept you going.

“How?” she asked, sounding so lost.

“I can help you move on. We just need to figure out what your unfinished business is,” you said.

“I know what it that is,” she said.

You knelt down in front of her.

“What’s your unfinished business?” you asked.

“Making you pay for doing this to me.”

Wind slammed into you from behind. You fell forward, your hands coming up to catch yourself before your face could slam into the floor. Rolling onto your back, you found her floating above you. You scrabbled for the gun you’d dropped but something stopped you. This was Lizzy, your best friend, you couldn’t do something that hurt her. Again.

You scrambled back, scared as her face began to morph into something from your nightmares. Elongating, teeth growing, eyes flickering like fire, no longer was she the sweet little girl caught in your memories. Before your eyes, she was turning into a demon, fuelled by rage and revenge.

Your hand came down, expecting to feel more floor but only finding empty space. Turning, you found broken off railing, the hall hanging over empty space, the concrete floor of the warehouse so far from you. Another gust of wind slammed into you, pushing you closer to the edge. A low moan came from deep within your chest and you found Lizzy floating closer.

She swooped down at you, a scream bursting unbidden from you. Raising your arms to cover your head, you felt yourself teeter on the edge. Another scream. You knew you wouldn’t survive that fall, smashing against the concrete like a broken door.

“I’m going to hurt you like you hurt me,” Lizzy said, her voice high and sweet, such a difference to the words coming from her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you babbled, gasping for breath.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks. Another crash of wind slamming into you. You teetered, before falling backwards. It felt slow motion in your mind. The knowledge you were about to die was all you could focus on.

Then a hand grasped yours, holding on so tight you thought your blood supply might cut off. You cut off a sob, grasping onto the warmth, almost burning after the chill of the air. Inch by inch you were dragged back up, the metal walkway the greatest thing you’d ever felt.

“What happened?” Lars asked.

He was crouched next to you, still holding on while you panted, gasping for breath, the sobs not abating. You shook your head, not able to answer. The truth too much to spill.

“You’ve made a new friend.” Your eyes squeezed shut at the sweet voice, “that’s not fair.’

Lars was slow to look up, attention shifting from you to your ghost. You whimpered, crawling further from the edge, fingers curling into the back of his uniform, clutching at it hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.

“Don’t hurt him. Please,” you begged.

“You mean like you didn’t hurt me?” A high childish giggle, “I don’t think so.”

Lars grasped his gun, pulling it free. Levelling it at Lizzy, he was slow to stand, pulling you with him. Standing close, you wanted to stop him but you were terrified she was going to hurt him.

“Alright, there’s no need to get aggressive,” Lars said, clearly trying to calm the situation.

“She hurt me,” she said, “now I’m going to hurt her. And then she’ll be with me forever just like she promised.”

He raised his gun higher, keeping himself between you and her. She rose higher, then, using the same move, swooped down. He didn’t hesitate, firing the proton stream at her. It wrapped around her, holding her in place. The enraged scream that came from her hurt you, like a brand burned on your inside.

“I need the trap,” he said, glancing back at you.

Sweat was beading at his temples as he held her and you felt frozen. Her anger was so visceral, struggling against the proton stream. Her scream was pure rage.

“Hey.”

He finally caught your attention, his voice softened as he looked at you from behind glass.

“Trap,” he said.

You fumbled with the trap hanging from your belt. Sliding it along the floor, you looked up at Lizzy, knowing this would be it. She wouldn’t move on. She’d be trapped, kept in storage to be studied by people like Lars. And yet you had to, if you wanted to keep her from hurting the people you cared about.

“I’m sorry,” you said to her.

His foot slammed down on the trigger, opening it. Her rage was like a physical thing, her struggle increasing. And she looked like a little girl, scared, terrified, of where she was being forced into. Lars dragged her down until the trap’s vacuum sucked her in.

It closed with a snap and you were left in silence. You fell, knees slamming into the metal walkway, your sobs loud in your own ears. You pressed the heel of your palms to your eyes, trying to stifle it all.

A large hand landed on your shoulder, offering the stability you didn’t have. Lars was kneeling in front of you, ignoring the smoking trap behind him, his eyes focused completely on you. You took a deep shuddering breath in, trying to stop crying. He waited, patient until you were calmer.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes sweeping over you.

“No.” Your voice was so small.

“This ghost seemed to know you,” he said.

You gave a small nod, scared what admitting your past crimes would do. It terrified you.

“You’ve met her before?” he asked.

You gave a wet chuckle. His thumb gently brushed the tears away.

“Lars, I created her,” you said, “I did that to her.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

And just like that the whole sorry story tumbled from your lips, words tripping over themselves in their haste to be told. The fire when you were five, consuming the house, burning it to the ground. Lizzy caught inside, you pulled free, your best friend gone. The fact you caused the fire. Your haunting. Every attempt to help her move on and the anger at your part in her death. The resentment in the assumption you’d done it on purpose. The guilt you carried with you every day. The fear of who you were, if you were a monster, if you were an awful person.

And once the words had run out he did the one thing you couldn’t have expected.

His lips were soft when they pressed to your forehead. You froze, not sure what to do, heart fluttering. Large hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“It was an accident. You’ve been trying to help her move on. You’re not a monster. You’re trying your best to make it up to her,” he said.

You fell forward, sinking into him, face pressed into his shoulder. His arms were hesitant as they came up, circling your body.

“I couldn’t save her,” you said, muffled against his shoulder.

“We’ll help her move on,” he said, “I promise.”

You pressed harder against him, hugging him tight, surprised by how light you felt after your confession. A problem shared was a problem halved. His lips pressed to your temple, soft and comforting and making you feel something addictive.

“I promise,” he whispered.

You turned your head, nose brushing against his. He froze, those beautiful blue eyes looking at you, something in them different. You lent forward, pressing your lips to his for a moment. It might have been the wrong time, but you’d almost died that night and you needed him to know. You drew back, worried about his reaction but the look on his face was like he’d just been let in on all the secrets of the universe. Like he was full of wonder. Like you’d given the greatest gift in the world.

He pulled you closer again, lips brushing yours with a sweetness that made your heart squeeze. You sighed into his mouth, clutching at his uniform. He was so warm under your hands and he was so beautiful and you couldn’t work out why you’d taken so long to kiss him.

“Oi, what’s this?”

You startled, pulling back from him. Trevor was looking less than impressed at the two of you, glaring down the walkway to your bodies curled into one another.

“We’re doing all the work over here and you’ve snuck away to hook up. Typical.” You could just tell he was rolling his eyes.

“I almost died. Give me a break,” you called back at him.

Lars froze in your arms. He pulled away, standing up, offering you a hand to help you to your feel. Your knees still felt unsteady, his arm around your waist helping you along. Plucking the smoking trap from the ground, he attached it to your belt.

“I promise,” he said again, confirming he wasn’t going to be spilling your secrets to the others.

You offered him a small smile, your first since the attack. He pulled you closer, another kiss pressed to your temple. You could have just melted from it.

The extra squeeze he gave you was exactly what you needed.

[ohgoditssnek]

Honestly, i get why Lawrence kills people.

I, too, want to commit murder, get high and pray to an eldritch diety for a chance to see the line between life and death after a night wearhouse shift.

I get to have McDonald's breakfast, though.

Chicken McMuffin is the only thing that currently stands between humanity and it's terrible agonizing demise.

[masr356]

Logistik – Transport & Logistics WordPress Theme | masr356.com

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[darkseraphscorner]

I will admit, I am mixing CoH lore with shit I ripped from Arcane Season two for this. Enjoy.

Boomtown. Neph tapped her head set. "Vanguard HQ, this is Nephilim Blade, another dead end." She says over the com, the tinny reply coming in her ear.

"Some one has been collecting and stockpiling Preatorian clockwork besides us agent Blade, we have tracked them down to the Boomtown area, we have called in reinforcements to aid you."

Neph snorted as she bent at the knee, cybernetics legs putting before she bounded over the street, landing with a crack of pavement, she didn't need help, this was Preat clocks, she was breathing them into scrap when she was just a lowbie, looking around she brought up her mini map and looked it over, still some abandoned buildings to check out before it got dark, she could hit them up easily.

Reaching her next search location, she looked at a battered Wearhouse, looked like it had been hit by a hammer, the building leaning to one side as she walks up, finding the padlock on the door melted to slag. "Come in HQ, think I found something, a busted door that looks to high tech for the locals."

"Proceed with caution." The voice crackled back as Neph pushed the door open, looking into the gloom, only illuminated by shafts of light from the sky light, Neph cracks her knuckles, energy flickering into life around them as she steps in.

Walking in, she squinted into the gloom, her eyes adjusting to the dark as she saw figures piled up like fire wood, clock works. "HQ, I found the place... HQ?" She tapped her coms, only getting a squeal of feedback.

"No no, we can't have you talking to medelsom outsiders, Neph Seraph." A voice echoed from the dark, accented, but familiar, hauntingly so.

Neph slowly turns around, looking for the source of the voice. "Who's there?" She called out.

"Oh my dear Neph, we are not strangers you and I, our paths crossed before." Metal foot steps echoed as a figure stepped into the light, it was a clockwork, but not like any she had seen before, it's body more elegant, more streamlined, a make shift cloak hangs from its back, a metal plate fastened over its face, a violette glow coming through the eye holes.

Neph squinted. "Who the fuck are you tin man?"

The clockwork laughed. "Tin man, yes.... I am the tin man, lacking a heart... I have lacked a heart for a long time Neph, but you might know me as a King."

Neph blinked. "The...the clock work king? But you are in the Zig."

He chuckled. "Ah my primal counterpart languishing in prison, for he still has some of his mortal form, I have transcended the need for flesh, I am purely of the mind."

Rolling her shoulders, Neph glares. "And this is the part where you tell me your evil plan?"

The Clockwork king stops. "My plan? Continue what you stopped in Preatoria my dear, my glorious evoluation."

"Your evolution? You ripped people's minds from their bodies and shoved them into clockwork, how is that evolution?"

Woodkids To ash and blood

He clapped his hands, clockwork around the warehouse starting to stir, all eyes glowing violet as the started towards Neph. "To be free of death, of hunger, of aging, of sickness, I will create a new race, and my princess will be the pinnacle of them, my perfect creation... And you will not stop me this time."

Neph growled and leaped for him, glowing fist swinging as a clockwork throws itself in the way, shattering it's torso and more ran up, mechanical bodies twitching like puppets on strings, she was quickly surrounded, her fists slamming out in empowered hammer blows, but more and more ran up, swarming her, grabbing her and punning her to the ground.

She snarled and struggled as the King walked up, his hand glowing with psychic energy. "Maybe you just need to see things from my point of view." He says as he leans in, energy starting to probe her mind as she gritted her teeth. "Soon you will awaken to your eternal firm Neph, do not resist."

There was a shatter of glass as a red and gold blur slammed into the floor, scattering clock work before bounding over and ripping clock work off Neph with an impressive display of strength.

"Gir?" Neph blinked, looking up at her sister in full costume.

"Hey sis, HQ sent me in the second your radio went down, lucky you." Gir said, Neph could tell she was smiling under that helm. "What's the situation?"

The Clockwork king staggered back, the glow of his eyes flaring. "One of Cole's puppets, I'm shocked there are any of you left after the war.... But your kind had one weakness." He holds out a hand as a wave of psychic energy slammed into Gir, staggering her. "For all your might, your mind is weak."

Neph pounced, at him, knocking him to the floor as struggling with him. "Get the fuck out of my sister's head!" She shouted.

The King clucked his fingers and more clockwork poured in, hundreds of them, metal hands grasping as he tried to buck Neph off himself.

Gir recovers, looking at the oncoming hoard. "Wanted to try this." She said softly, the eye holes of her helm glowing before twin laser beams lash out, cutting through the mechanical bodies like a hot knife through butter.

The king struggles under Neph, before going limp. "Destroy this hold out, I have many more hidden around your city, you can not stop my quest, I will free, perfect Penelope Yin." He hisses before the light leaves his eyes, the surrounding clockwork dropping like puppets with their strings cut. "This is but the beginning." His voice echoed in their mind.

Neph slowly got to her feet, Gir walking up and patting her back. "You okay sis?" Gir asked, pulling off her helm and shaking out her green/grey hair.

"No... I think I just gained a nemesis... And not the steam powered one." Neph admits, looking around. "You realise we have to make it so her can't use these things again?"

Gir sighed. "So we are busting them up?"

"Safer that way."

[leelee120000]

Looking Back On: Twenty One Pilots, “BLURRYFACE”

June 15, 2020

On May 17, 2015, Twenty One Pilots’ (TOP) released their album “BLURRYFΛCE.” (Blurryface) wasn’t the first TØP album that I had listened to. Back around 2011, when Tyler Joepsh’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” cover was virial on Tumblr, was the first time I ever heard him. Then in 2013, I heard “House of Gold” as a suggested song on Google Music, and it was the first time I knew that I was listening to a TØP song. 

I’ve loved them since 2013, but “BLURRYFΛCE” in my opinion, is the most essential version of TØP. It highlights both the band’s iconic genre playfulness alongside their religious and philosophical themes. So, with its fifth birthday recently passing, what is a better time to remember its impact than now?

The story of the album’s central character, Blurryface, is indirect. It is more of a lyrical concept than a fully-scripted story, however the story can bring to mind tales such as “Jekyll & Hyde” with its theme of duality. 

This album begins with the absolute slap-to-the-face that is “Heavydirtysoul” reaching a rapid pace of 129 beats per minute within the first few words, it is nauseatingly fast and is the fastest rap for TØP. (Beating ��Levitate” and “Ode to Sleep” by just a few beats.)

That speed is almost a distraction from the lyrics, which originally was slam poetry from 2013 in which Tyler asks the listener to save his heavy, dirty soul from himself during the repeated chorus. Similar to its swift beat, its music video shows the viewer a car speeding fast and swerving. It is easy to assume that the driver is Blurryface himself. 

The car is deteriorating represents Tyler’s mental state. Tyler’s hands and throat are also darkened, this represents Blurry poisoning his music. 

Next is “Ride.” If you had listened to any radio stations in the mid-2010s, you heard “Ride”; however, it’s arguably the weakest song. Its video was filmed in a forest, an important recurring symbol of childhood in TOP lyrics and music videos. 

An argument could be made that Blurry is stalking from the trees. Right before the lyric “I’ve been thinking too much. Help me,” Tyler wraps his fingers around his throat. Then, we are greeted with an isolated and snow-covered wearhouse for the video to the song “Fairly Local.” 

Josh and Tyler stand back-to-back; as Josh walks away, the camera shows Tyler’s red eyes. This is Blurry’s song. It’s cocky and unlike Tyler’s regular singing style, emphasized with aggressive lyrics such as: “I’m evil to the core, what I shouldn’t do I will… What I wanna save, I’ll kill. Is that who I truly am?” 

Tyler is silhouetted behind glass while he talks about fans, showing him to be trapped. It cuts back to Blurry, stumbling drunk with power. Then, it cuts to a red room, where the viewer is unable to tell if Tyler or Blurry is in control. Until the camera shows Tyler’s eyes, he grabs his throat and Blurry’s eyes appear, mocking Tyler’s verse. The lights rapidly switch on and off as the two fight for control of the body. Blurry pulls a dark cloth over their face, until Tyler rips it off. However. He ultimately succumbs to Blurry. 

“Tear In My Heart” shows Tyler trying to perform as his mind, Blurry, morphs the world around him. His wife isn’t morphed and he chases her to a restaurant, where she beats the absolute…um…crap out of him. It’s nonsensical and probably a visual representation of how Blurry is making Tyler fear those he loves. 

“Lane Boy” starts off intensely by talking about how some of the songs on Blurryface’s namesake album might feel basic and how it’s an uphill battle to create different music in the industry. He lifts a cloth over his face before the rap begins, signaling that Blurry is there. He mentions the kill list from “Ride” and how he’d do anything to protect his brother. He scribbles on two men wearing hazmat suits with a black marker. 

It shifts to a concert where waves of fans kneel and the two men in hazmat suits are wearing the words “fame” and “success.” Tyler asks, “Why do I kneel to these concepts? Tempted by control, controlled by temptation. ‘Stay low,’ they say. ‘Stay low’.” He screams and jumps to his feet.  

As the music bombastically explodes, he jumps and faces the fans. It cuts to Blurry for a split second, kneeling on the lane. Back onstage, Tyler is frantically rubbing his eye. The cockyness is back as Fame and Success kneel before Tyler, and it can be assumed that Blurry is back in control. The rest of the album is without music videos, relying on lyrics and sound alone for storytelling.

My interpretation of the intro to “The Judge” is that it is Tyler’s prayer to God for a release from Blurry, whom he is referring to as the devil. Soon after this, the song suddenly becomes happy and gospel-like in its tone. 

“Doubt” begins dark and pressing, later using the lyrics “shaking hands with the dark parts of my thoughts, no. You are all that I’ve got, no.” The tune is a darker, more desperate prayer. Tyler is pleading with God to remember and save him. He mentions wishing the markings on his skin meant something to him again. 

This is the first time I believe he isn’t referring to Blurry’s iconic darkening of his hands and throat, but rather his real life cross tattoo. His relationship with God is strained by the mental struggle he is having and the fear of losing faith is extremely horrifying to him.

“Polarize” talks of splitting oneself in two behind a disguise. Tyler sounds as if he’s losing his mind, screaming “find me.” The chorus asks for help for his friend’s problems. But, he messes up, saying “we have problems,” referring to Blurry and himself. He talks of wanting to have been a better son, and losing his halo, as if he’s already dead.

“We Don’t Believe What’s On TV” talks about the death of dreams and fears of abandonment. Blurry is further twisting the knife of insecurity. “Message Man,” I believe, holds the implication of Tyler explaining his fight with Blurry. He is outright called a loser for hiding in the song. Tyler starts talking about using his music to fight Blurry, directly addressing fans (referred to as “you”) within the song. 

“Hometown” feels like a reflection, but of a different sort than “Ride.” Tyler literally asks for his soul to be repaired. I think Tyler is acknowledging that those who have grown up with him don’t understand his struggles. The song talks about abandoning tradition and how the spirits back home are waiting. 

“Not Today” feels like the fight between Tyler and Blurry, as Tyler is contemplating sucide by jumping out of his window. “Goner” is Tyler praying before his sucide attempt, attempting one last time to beat Blurry. Judging by how Tyler diminishes at the song’s end, I fear that Blurry won. 

That ambiguity is one of the best parts of this album. The fact that the battle has no clear end and is unsatisfying and leaves the listeners waiting more. It’s such a good metaphor for the uphill battle mental illness and is almost  upsetting that the listener can’t tell who won. It’s fear inducing that there’s an ambiguity that exists. Yet, it’s perfect.

LeAnne McPherson

[nemorialex]

GUEST NUMBER ONE

Sami was minding her own business, walking down some random street in the City. Capitol C, no... Other name to it. Which was weird. At least Austin had a real name, and the Falls had a title at LEAST, even if it was kind of dumb.

Weird name or not, the City being a concrete jungle RIGHT NEXT to a pine forest left her with a sense of comfort she wasn't quite sure she'd find again.

Other things she wasn't sure she'd find again (though in hindsight, was probably inevitable) was her mom. Or more accurately, her mom found her. She scoffed and turned away from the glowing light even before the redhead emerged.

"Sami! Wait!"

"What do you want?" She slowed, but didn't feel like stopping. If Alex wanted to talk so bad, sh- they'd keep up now wouldn't they?

"Please, just- Stop! A moment, please." Alex reached out and touched Sami's shoulder, but didn't grab or pull or anything. Insistent, but not demanding. So, Sami stopped and turned, crossing her arms.

"Listen, I don't know what you even want from me. I thought we were both cool just minding our own shit, doing our own thing. I'm out here having the time of my goddamned life being a juvenile delinquent. You've got no idea how many spray painted murals I've got going on in this town. Dumpsters, trains, the sides of abandoned wearhouses that probably made rubber shoes at some point but then was closed down because who the fuck wears rubber shoes aside from clowns, and we all know that clows are bullsh--"

"Sami..."

"... Even spraypainted the side of a cat once. That shit was hard. Took a lot of practice. Practice that I've honed out here on the street, or should I say Street with a capitol S--"

"Here." Alex interrupted the spiraling rant by handing her a piece of paper.

Sami slowly took it, as if the pages were going to come to life and bite her arm off. Hell, with the crazy magic shit Alex (this one AND the one she knew) played with, there was a 50/50 chance of that happening.

It didn't bite her. It was just a letter. A letter from Zack, apparently? About...

"'Thanksgiving'?" Sami asked incredulously.

"I'd... Like you to come... If you want." Before Sami could respond with either snark or word vomit, Alex continued in a rush. "I know our first introduction has not been... We've not got off on the right foot, with one another. But, I'd like to do better. You, deserve, better."

Sami… Didn’t have a response to that. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, looking down at the letter, glancing up at the stranger, then looking back again. 

“... You don’t have to come. I know that our… Relationship, is complicated, to say the least. And tossing you in the midst of a big family gathering isn’t usually the ideal situation to–”

“Yeah ok.” It was her turn to interrupt the ramblings now.

“I’m… Sorry?”

“Okay. I’ll be there. 3 o’clock, right?”

“Ye-yes! Yes, 3 o’clock at… Cafe Calest’s, I believe? It should be the little family restaurate on the corner of–”

“Yeah, no, I. I know.” Sami turned away and started walking down the street again, staring at the paper in her hand in bewilderment, kind of wondering what she just agreed to and kind of- Oh shit! “Hey, mo- Alex?”

Alex looked up and gave a small smile. “You can… Call me mom, if it’s still comfortable for you and all… Sorry about that…”

“Ok. Yeah, um… Thanks.” Sami spun around and walked JUST A BIT QUICKER away from the situation, hearing a soft “you’re welcome!” trailing behind her before turning the corner.

Cool great awesome, this was going to be a fucking NIGHTMARE, wasn’t it? Maybe she could focus on something better, like the fact that she could wear a new dress and eat some free food. Then it would only be a nightmare (lowercase n and i and all the rest) but while wearing a new dress and eating free food. That’s as good a compromise as any.

Thanksgiving Invitations

Alex stared at the 3 identical envelopes in front of them, neatly laid out on the coffee table and took a deep breath. One was already missing, sent quickly off in Corintha's direction. The Marketplace had a slightly different reality clock to Haven's, so she had a good... Week? Or so? To prepare and make her way here.

Alex leaned forward and slid one of them forward and out of consideration. They'd see Jay soon enough, and if not he was getting the much less formal text notification and could collect the paper version at the event itself for his personal paper trail.

No... It was these two that was giving them a headache currently. It was entirely too tempting to just... Not send the invitations out. Oops oh no! Two less guests how sad oh well... But no. Alex had asked Zack for these invitations, and they intended on following through.

They sighed an even deeper sigh and stood, taking the envelopes and tucking them into the inner pocket of their coat. They'd get the more troublesome one out of the way first, and by the time their portal cooled down, they could figure out what in the hell to say to the second...

[specialagentlokitty]

Gibbs x reader - under the skin

I think it only applys to the werewolf form. . . But it could apply to human form. I honestly don't know. So the idea was The readers werewolf form comes out on a case infront of the team while protecting Gibbs. . . Possibly set after under the skin? What do you think? - Werewolf!reader/Gibbs anon💜

Part two:

At first gibbs had been reluctant to let you back in cases, especially on field duty.

You spent a good few months proving to him that you would be find, and you’d been working with him for years, that you could easily control yourself.

After answering all his questions and showing him everything he wanted to see, he finally let you back in to the cases.

Standing with your gun in hand, you had your eyes locked on gibbs who was being held in the suspects arms, gun aimed right at his head.

“We need to back up.” McGee whispered.

Everyone nodded and took a few steps back, but you didn’t.

You stood there, your eyes fixated on Gibbs as heavy breaths wracked your body.

“(Y/N).” Tony hissed.

You ignored him, trying to ignore the rushing inside of you.

You prayed I’d you ignored it long enough it would eventually leave, go away and you’d be able to contain yourself.

But as you looked at the blood running down the side of Gibbs’ head, you had little control, you had the urge to turn, to rip the suspect apart.

You needed to protect gibbs, and you couldn’t fight the battle that was raging inside of you.

“Step back or I blow his head off!” The suspect yelled.

“(Y/N)…” Gibbs warned.

You looked at him, giving him an apologetic shake of your head as you slid your gun behind you.

Everyone was yelling at you and the suspect seemed confused but he was yelling at you to back up.

You felt the familiar feeling under your veins, and you let it take over, bones snapping and within a second you stood tall, letting out a howl as you stared at the suspect.

In shock, he dropped his gun and Gibbs, and he fell backwards.

You charged forward, but you slid to a halt just in front of Gibbs who was stood in front of the trembling suspect.

“Go.” He ordered.

You growled lowly.

“Go.”

Growling again, you looked at the suspect and snapped your jaws making him scream.

Satisfied with this you turned around and ran, heading to the other end of the wearhouses.

You just paced back and forth, grumbling and growling to yourself.

You were clawing and the floors and walls, worked up and angry.

Not long after, you heard steps and you spun around, coming face to face with gibbs.

He dropped a bag on the floor and sat next to it, letting out a heavy sigh as he watched you carry on digging at the floor.

“You now have to explain this to the others.” He said.

You huffed. Still digging at the floor, leaving large claw marks.

“I expect you to tell me what happened.”

You looked at him.

He knew you could understand him, and he knew you could turn back when you wanted to.

“are you going to turn so we can talk about this?”

You didn’t, you carried on doing your own thing. You circled gibbs and he just watched.

He knew you weren’t going to hurt him, but he could see you debating something.

“If you run out that door (Y/N) you’ll be on desk duty.”

You grumbled and sat in front of him which made him chuckle.

He smiled at you and you grumbled again, laying yourself down.

You closed your eyes and after a minute you shifted back.

Your clothes were torn, and gibbs handed you the bag and spun himself around, letting you change.

“I don’t know what happened.”

“You said you had control.” He replied.

“I did! I do! It’s…”

You sighed, dropping yourself to the floor as you looked the at the torn clothes you’d taken off.

Gibbs turned around and rose a brow at you.

“It’s just… I saw you bleeding.. I was scared for you… and I couldn’t help it…”

Gibbs blinked before he smiled softly.

“You were trying to protect me.”

“Yeah…”

Gibbs sighed, standing up he shoved your now ruined clothes into the bag and tossed it on his back as he held his hand out to you.

“Yes, but now you’ve got to explain to everyone what you are.”

“Yeah… I know…”

You didn’t know how to explain it, but you did know one thing.

If anyone even so much as tired to hurt gibbs you wouldn’t hesitate to turn and show them what a real nightmare would look like

[keepcalmandcarriefischer]

I know how to solve everything! Country music! We all know how country shifted post 9-11 to pro-gov and pro-cop and pro-go-to-the-"country"-themed-nightclub-and-get-laid. Well that has the country listeners all right where the right wants them.

Step 1: We remake all the old songs about workers rights and fuckin the police from Dolly Parton, Johnny Cash, and Willy Nelson. These covers have to be FIRE. The absolute top stars need to do em.

Step 2: These stars need to put out songs with lyrics like

They said we cannot form a union

Well what would granpaw say?

He'd say "never cross a picket line!

God Bless the USA"

The U in there stands for "United"

It also stands for You and Me

So we'll stand together fightin!

An together we'll make em see

Then the catchiest chorus ever about how this country was built by those who were willing to work hard and get their hands dirty and how we need to fight back against billionaires trying to "tell us how to live our lives"

Then a verse that talks about how "they say our kids are lazy and never play outside, but they take all they time I want to spend with them, cut down all the trees, poisoned the ol' fishing hole, and built wearhouses all over the amber waves of grain. My son can't change a tire or throw a football, because I was at work instead of teaching him how." And that kind of thing

Step 3: we all play the hell out of these songs. Stream em. Download them. Buy em. Call every radio station (all of them) and demand the songs get played.

Don't worry about turning red states blue. Turn em pissed off at rich people and their bosses and politicians who claim to represent them, and news outlets who tell them what to think, and cops who harass their kids

[bekaroth-reads]

Viktor Vector x V

V sat in the chair trying desperately to avoid any sort of eye-contact with the ripperdoc that was digging through the small medical supply drawer next to them. Neither of them was talking to each to each other at the moment; the silence was only broken by the sounds of the assorted supplies rustling in the drawer and the hum of the many monitors in the background, many of which showed different aspects of V's vitals. After what seemed like an eternity, Viktor finally said something. "I want you to head home and take it easy after this. No excitement for a few days; no more dangerous outings for a while." There was a scolding tone to his voice that V did not appreciate.

"It isn't that bad. I just got in a bit of a scuffle." V huffed almost like a teen that was busted for smoking behind a school. "No, what you got," Viktor paused his thought as he started to patch up a cut on their arm, "was your ass handed to ya." V scrunched their nose not only at the burning from the anti-septic touching the wound but at the admonishment they just got as well. They didn't respond though; not wanting to put the effort into arguing and knowing that they really couldn't. There was another bout of silence between the two of them as he finished his task. He sat the tools he was using in a metal pan on top of the drawer before giving a heavy sigh. "What were you thinking taking such a dangerous gig by yourself? And, knowing that wearhouse would be full of scavengers too?" V rolled their eyes at his question. "Eh, they were just a bunch of gonks. Nothing I couldn't handle." This response caused Viktor to snort back a bitter laugh and glare at them. "There was defiantly one gonk in this situation and it was any of them! You're lucky that you got out of there with all your chrome still in your body!"

V glared back at him in turn. "Alright, Viktor! Why are you coming for my throat like this?" Vik heaved another heavy sigh as he closed the door on the drawer a bit harder than he meant to. "Look, I don't mean to be a mother hen. But, I hate to see you all banged up like this. 'Specially when it's because you're bein' reckless. We both know you're smarter than that." The two of them stared at each other for a tense moment, silently finishing their argument with frustrated glances. Vik knew that V wouldn't budge and they knew the exact same thing about him. When they had both accepted this fact they finally moved on.

"I really care about you, kid. Ya know that right?" V gave a defeated sigh at Viktor's question that was so full of raw emotion that they couldn't help but admit that they were being a jerk. "Yeah, I do. I'm sorry for being such a jack-ass." They offer apologetically as they lean fully back on to the chair. "Hey, you've had a tough day. Just don't go making it a habit." He tried to lighten the mood by teasing them a bit. Vik gave the screens one more glance over before started pushing them out of the way. "Anything still bothering you that I haven't checked yet?" V gave a groan and shifted in the chair. "Nothin' major. Hands still hurt a bit from having to take some swings when I ran out of ammo." Mentioning the burning in their knuckles seemed to make it flare up more. "Well, not much I can do for that other than the pain killers I gave ya."

After thinking for a moment a smile tugged ever-so-slightly at the corners of his mouth as a great idea suddenly popped into his mind. "Ya know... There is one more thing I could try. Somethin' I learned before I even became a doctor. Bit of a long shot, but it just might work." At this point, V was achy all over and willing to try just about anything that Viktor suggested. They shrugged their shoulders and mused, "Sure. If you think it'll help." At this Vik took their hand into his and moved it closer to his face to inspect it. He gently ran his thumb over their finger and they figured he was going to do pop their knuckles or something of the like. They almost passed out when he took their hand even closer to his face and placed a gentle kiss on it. "There. That make it feel any better?" V stammered over all the words that they wanted to say, but nothing cohesive came of their endeavor. Vik gave a chuckle that sat deep in his chest and V swore they could feel it reverberate in theirs. "Seriously, though. Is there anything else I can do for you while you're here?"

By this point, the initial shock of the situation had started to wear off and V saw an opportunity they were not about to pass up. "Actually," V started slowly as they were still trying to work out exactly how they were going to go about it without being too incredibly forward and ruining things, "My arm kinda hurts too. Not too bad, but might need to be checked out." Viktor quirked a brow, but the devious smile on his face told that he didn't actually mind. "Right here?" He questioned as he kissed their arm right above their elbow. "A bit closer to the shoulder." V corrected. Viktor hummed in acknowledgment before kissing a trail up their entire arm making them practically melt into the chair from just how gentle he was.

"Any other trouble areas?" Vik asked almost expectantly. V decided to take a chance. "Got hit on the lip pretty good and-" Before they could even finish Vik had already started to kiss them fervently; a gesture they happily returned. He pulled away a bit too soon for V's liking, but they were sympathetic when they saw him straightened in his chair with a groan and a series of pops. "Sorry, back can't take that angle for too long." He huffed as his back cracked once more. V moved themselves to sit on the edge of the chair. "Do I need to call a doctor for you, old-timer?" They teased him and he tried to give them a stern yet secretly playful look. "Watch it there, small fry." V chuckled and leaned in closer to him to kiss him again. "Say," Vik pulled away to look them in the eyes, "how about we move this somewhere a bit more private?" V rested their hand on his forearm, "Viktor Vektor!" they pretended to scold and leaned close to him and whispered, "Now, I thought you said no excitement for awhile." He pulled them off their chair and onto his lap causing his chair to slide back and spin around a bit. "Well, maybe some excitement is alright." He purred against their lips before passionately kissing them again; both of them grinning the entire time.

[werenzki]

so ready for this ufc crap at rogers place to be over cause then it's all hockey hockey and hockey baby 😎

[wolfliving]

Old People Housed in Former Malls Afraid of the Sky

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/24/business/senior-housing-retail-redevelopment.html

(…)

There is little denying that a vast amount of retail space is emptying during the coronavirus pandemic — 25,000 stores may close by the end of this year — all while the over-65 population is increasing by about 10,000 a day. So even though arena-like malls and strip shopping centers might never see another Sears, J.C. Penney or Lord & Taylor store, some are being transformed into something more interesting: comprehensive upscale retirement complexes.

(…)

The factors driving retail-to-housing transformation were set in motion years ago but have been accelerated by the pandemic. The demise of malls and shopping centers has also been amplified by the shift to online retailing in recent years.

The crisis in mainstream retailing has become an outsize challenge and opportunity for municipalities, real estate owners, managers and developers. More than 8,000 stores have closed so far in 2020, according to Coresight Research, after 9,500 shut down last year. Mall stalwarts like Bed Bath & Beyond, GNC, Pier One Imports, Men’s Wearhouse, and New York and Company are in various states of bankruptcy and reorganization. Department stores such as Neiman Marcus and Lord & Taylor are on a long list of retailers going through shutdowns.

Ellen Dunham-Jones, a professor at the Georgia Institute of Technology, has researched the repurposing trend. Retail closings across the country have led to 400 proposals for retrofits, with some 315 projects completed or in progress. Notable examples include the Ridge House Apartments in Wheat Ridge, Colo.; the PathStone Skyview Park Apartments in Irondequoit, N.Y. (occupying an old Sears site); and Aljoya Thornton Place, on the former parking lot of the Northgate Mall in Seattle, which was one of the nation’s first regional shopping malls and is still in business.

Professor Dunham-Jones writes about Folkestone in “Case Studies in Retrofitting Suburbia,” her upcoming book with Prof. June Williamson of City University of New York. She noted that the complex, in addition to occupying a former retail site, took a more progressive turn in its design.

Seniors are increasingly demanding more activities and environmentally sensitive and walkable communities, rather than sequestered, gated or golf course developments that require driving everywhere, Professor Dunham-Jones found.

“Baby boomers don’t want to be isolated,” she added. “They want to be connected to the community.”...

[duhragonball]

🌻

So I finally remembered to order some new T-shirts.   I used to buy blank T-shirts at the store, but for a while Target used to carry Gildan brand T-shirts which I found more comfortable for some reason.  Then they stopped carrying them for no apparent reason, and I realized that I didn’t need to put up with this bullshit anymore because I could just order Gildan shirts on the internet.    This was what led me to blankshirts.com

I always hated shopping for clothes as a kid, because all I wanted to wear were blank t-shirts, and my mom would drag me around making me look at all this useless horseshit with stripes and paisley patterns and button-down stuff and I hate all of that, I just want solid colors with no long sleeves or any other bells and whistles.  So now I just place a bulk order for forty Gildan T-shirts, and I wear them for like 18 months until I get sick of them and want to order new ones. 

I see people wax nostalgic about their childhoods, and I almost never get it because everything was a pain in the ass when I was a kid.  You couldn’t just get new pants, you had to go to the store and try them on.    Now I just know what number Levis I like and the two numbers that go with that, and I can order them over the computer.  I don’t need to clear any of this with my mom, or listen to her tell me “that’s tacky” or “you can’t just wear the same five colors of T-shirts over and over”.  

You know, I used to wear only black T-shirts for a few years.   My apartment got flooded and I was in a mood over it, and I started buying new clothes and figured “Well, I’ll just stick to one color for a while,” and the world didn’t end and the fashion police never found me.   Eventually I expanded the palette to stuff like “forest green” and “maroon” but it’s not that complicated.   I could have done this all along, but I had to get old enough to figure out how. 

I do like going to the Men’s Wearhouse, because even though I’m not a suit and tie guy, they talk to me like a peer and they don’t waste my time with stuff I don’t care about.   They’re like, here’s three shirts that would go with this, and I pick two.   Here’s some tie options.   I’ll take that one.    Done.  It’s doesn’t have to be this weird guessing game where you hope that “the right answer” and “what you actually want” are the same thing.  

I was reading about Donald Trump’s shitty Boeing 757 plane and he got like gold-plated everything.   To me, that’s stupid, because the place still looks like a jet airplane with couches in it, but now all the door handles and faucets are gold-plated, and then some bulter comes out serving Fillet O’Fish sandwiches, probably.   But I can respect having things your own way.   In the end, nobody really cares, so if you can afford it, go for it.   If I had my own private jet, I guess I’d have some cool Dragon Ball Z shit painted on the side, and maybe the airplane painting people would exchange funny looks behind my back, but they’d shrug and do it anyway, because I’m paying for it.  

I’m sort of shifting subjects here, but Trump’s plane reminds me of how I used to look up superyacht photos because I wanted some inspiration for Luffa’s spacship.   In the fanfic, she... ahem... acquired a pleasure craft from some rich dude, and the whole gag with that was that it was far too luxurious for her to appreciate.   I considered having her rip out all the plush decor, except she wouldn’t even care enough to bother with that.    Rich Corinthian leather sits just as well as cheap upholstery.  If she was running low on cash she could rip out some of the gold-plated decorations and sell it for scrap, but otherwise it’s just there, unappreciated. The new owner sleeps in the fitness center on Deck 4 and she spilled barbecue sauce on the 90000-count silk sheets.

The thing I quickly learned about super-yachts was how utterly unimpressive they really are.   You expect to see something mega-fancy, like a James Bond movie hideout, but it just looks like stuff you’d find in a moderately fancy home, except they put it on a boat, so that makes it more luxurious.   Oh, here’s a movie theater on this yacht.  It looks like a bunch of armchairs and a big screen TV like I’ve seen in furniture stores and electronic stores, only someone bought all that stuff and put it in one room and it’s on a boat.    The closest I ever saw to a truly fancy thing was a bay inside a superyacht where other, smaller boats were kept.   Which sounds cool, at least, but why would you want to leave your big fancy boat to screw around in smaller boats?

You read about this stuff, and it starts to feel like rich people already have it their own way, and they’re so used to it that they don’t know what else to want, so they start buying stuff like boats with smaller boats in them.   Muammar Gaddafi used to have this all-female boyguard staff, which sounds like this cool, over-the-top supervillain thing, but he probably got bored with it after a while, and where do you go from there?

Anyway, I’m just glad I can order these blank shirts without having to beg a Target store to carry them.    I’m simple that way.

[fuck-customers]

I work at a store that orders product from wearhouse after they have already sold to other stores and sells them for slightly cheaper, witch means when we get something in there is a high likelyhood we will get three or four then never get the same product again. What also makes it difficult is I work in the home wears store, (the franchise has a clothing store that functions the same way,)

So normally I work in the small appliances, food and kitchen stuff section, but I am 17 so I help with lifting and moving the furniture,

The amount of people who ask me “do you have —— I saw it here last month” or “could you order us another one of this” NO WE CANT, the store actively advertise it self as “offline shopping” and “buy it when you see it so you don’t have shoppers remorse”

This one customer, really just got on my nerves, they hunted me down, they very clearly where looking for someone younger because my co-worker said the woman passed her twice, and kept asking about this basket, what ever I don’t care I show her to where the baskets are (witch I’m not technically supposed to do I’m just supposed to point them in the right direction) and try to show her ones that sound like her description,

And of course there’s something wrong with all of them but I go to make my leave and she asks about towels, not my department so I point her over to where they are and get back to my stocking,

Ten minutes later I get called for a price check, and low and behold it’s the woman, I find a similar basket and take the price, while of course she argues I wrong and it should be cheaper, but I’m working a 6 hour shift and I’m only 2 1/2 hours in, so I stuck to my gut and get my co-worker who has more experience.

And this fucking bitch tries to pull the “I thought she was scamming me” and “I don’t really always trust kids, you know they are just in it for the money” but I don’t work commission I don’t give a rats ass if you buy it or not, the chain is pretty successful, how ever she pays and leaves and my coworker turns to me a goes

“She’s done this eight times in the pass three months”

Apparently she finds younger workers who don’t know her and bullies them into giving her a better price on things.

[bisquett]

I work at an amazon wearhouse and i have night shifts which are 12 hour sleeps and honestly. You just go to bed late the nightbefore so you sleep in the day i usually get up at hour before i have to leave so night is like my daytime and a red bull 6 hours in. Honestly you just need to adjust your sleep schedual the day before

12 HOURS?!!!!

The thing is, my boss asked me. I normally do the morning or the afternoon shift, there’s no way I can do night shift all the time.

ALSO, are you like on your feet the 12 hours? Because I really don’t mind the actual work on itself and I wasn’t really sleepy it was actually fine, I was tired ofc bc it’s like 3 am and you’re working BUT my FEET GIRL my feet were KILLING ME. Do you have any tips??

[gotham-and-arkham]

The mission had gone horribly wrong, and Akira and the bats had gotten caught in a wearhouse ready to blow. They definitely wouldn't get out in time, and with no other options, Akira did the only thing his could. He pulled them too the metaverse. This shift wasn't as elegant as it usually was, and even Akira who was used to entering the multiverse, stumbled a bit.

Jason was the first to come too out of the knocked out bat family

“Christ what did you do?” Jason asked slightly delirious

[nohumansonlyunicorns]

I wanna say something.

Now, I don't really pay attention to the news or riots or protests. Mainly because I hate the violence and the pain that comes from them. But I want to give my opinion on them. If anything I say in incorrect or seen a different way, please let me know.

These protests will get somewhere, eventually. They always have. The Revolutionary War was started as a protest against the British. The Civil Rights Movement was a peaceful protest (on the protesters part).

I completely agree that those Minneapolis police officers most likely had no grounds to have George Floyd. They definitely had no right to have their knee on his neck. Those four officers have since been fired and put under investigation and one on trial for murder. I want to know if they have been fired and the police chief had personally apologized the the family, why did the protesters feel the need to attack the police station. And Target. You have now put people out of work in a time where working is rare.

That leads me into the second thing. These protests are blocking my co-workers from getting to work. We work in Southern Jersey on the third shift in a wearhouse. But they can't get here if the bridges are closed off.

I don't know. If anyone can give me some insight to these events that would be greatly appreciated. Where I live, you only have trouble with the police if you haven't lived in the town your whole life and that will just end in favoritism. We don't get many protests down here.

If you are going to a protest:

~stay safe

~quarentine yourself for a bit cause COVID-19 is still a big problem

~don't do anything to put yourself or others at risk

This has been my rant on things I know nothing about. Hope you're all healthy and happy. Love you all.